#like the death penalty make it as quick as possible

[alittlemoth]

Vent post kinda

People treat plants too much like objects. Yeah they might not have the same awareness as an animal but they're still alive. I saw a painted succulent and I felt horrible for it it was essentially being suffocated. You wouldn't paint a dog and people who do are seen as weird and potentially abusive.

Plants are alive. If you want something that you can do whatever you want to with no consequences get a plastic plant cuz even plants can only handle so much abuse before they die

Plants and animals are alive they're not toys. Life is precious. Please show life respect it's not going to be around forever.

[dcxdpdabbles]

need more mr flavor im thorsty

"You want to buy my soda?" Danny asks again as the man in a suit across from him smiles sickly sweet. They are crammed in the left-corner booth of Anthony's Pasta, with a stack of paperwork on the table.

Danny had just been getting ready to open a shop when this man strolled in wearing the same waxy grin Vlad wore whenever he spoke to his Dad. Danny had been on his guard as the man introduced himself, and while his smile and mannerisms were pleasant, Danny could tell by his eyes that he could not trust the other.

There was no emotion in them.

"That's correct, Mr. Flavor. You see, your brand is starting to stir quite a ruckus. But it's unfortunately, on such a small scale, the trend's popularity will lead to your brand dying out. We at Zesti want to help you reach a bigger audience before that happens. I personally think you have so much potential and I wouldn't want to see it go to waste." The man, Oscar, tells him. He leans back, open body language to try to put Danny at ease.

Danny frowns "My soda is a trend?"

"A passing one unless we don't make the smart choices now. Zesti can help with that," Oscar hinted. He pushes the contract he brought along with him towards Danny. "We'll handle the marketing, distribution, and you will make sixty percent of all final sales. All you need to provide is the tasty beverage."

Danny quickly glances over the contract. At first glance, it seems to be in his favor. But it's dragged out in a package of twenty pages where the wording slowly takes away from his own benefits.

They would handle marketing, but the funds would come from his sixty percent of profits—not all, but a good twenty percent. This left him with forty percent of sales.

Then, Zesti would cover the distribution outside of Gotham. Within Gotham, they would use his money again. That left Danny with only twenty percent of the sales since the other twenty would be used for Gotham distribution.

Since Zesti was going to help him start up, they would ask for a ten percent deposit for the first five years. That way, the sodas could help build a customer base to fund the other two costs.

By page eighteen, Danny would only be making ten percent of the promised income. He thought it was unethical business practices, but the conditions and wording they added to the contract made it legally possible.

Danny just had to sign, and he would agree to the horrid conditions. Now, he didn't really care about the soda. It wasn't like he invented it; he merely brought it over from another world, but it was the fact that they were trying to trick him that upset him.

If he could spot this in a quick read-through, what would he find if he had someone professional look over the contract? Danny bets there would be wording that made him irreverent and legally made Zesti the owner of his work.

They also sent a company representative to discuss legal details in a restaurant. Danny doesn't know the laws of this place (He thinks a lot of Gotham's issues with the Rouges could be solved if they were to include the Death Penalty, but that's just him) He feels a minor shouldn't be making legal decisions without some kind of lawyer.

He knows Oscar is clicking his pen to pressure him to sign as he reads. Jazz would do it whenever she wanted him to sign on for whatever community service she needed.

It was laughable to think that this man was attempting to use the same business psychology that his sister had trained him to notice. Zesti must believe he was an easy target.

"It says here that I would give Zesti complete creative freedom over my soda. How would that stop you from changing a thing about the recipe and then claiming I have no right to the new recipe?" he asks, flipping to page twelve and watching Oscar's oily smile never slip.

"That's just about the bottling and design of the brand. The leaping boy is nice, but we want to clean it up and give it more attention-grabbing details." Oscars assures. He failed to address Danny's concern, which told him everything he needed to hear.

"I'm not interested in selling. Thank you for the offer, though," he tells Oscar, pushing back the contract.

The other man laughs as if Danny has said something amusing. There is a bit of condensation in the undertones of his laughter as if he were speaking to a toddler and finding their confusion entertaining. "I'm not sure you understand, Mr. Flavor. This is an amazing opportunity that others would kill for."

Danny shrugs. "Then offer it to them."

Oscar sighs loudly, shaking his head. "Mr. Flavor, I don't think you understand. This could be what makes you a millionaire, and it's your only chance to make that dream a reality."

"What makes you think being rich is my dream? What if my dream is to become a ghost?"

That finally made the other man lose his smile for only a second before Oscar leaned forward. "Please think carefully. This is the best for you and your brand. Gotham makes people like you disappear from the public eye when a new trend comes by."

"Disappear?" As in intangible? As in ghost? As in Phantom, what part of himself has he been searching for?

Oscar seems to think Danny's wide eyes were because he was frightened instead of excited. Oscar leans back with a smirk, his eyes still hellishly cold and emotionless. It is strange to now always glance into a person's eyes to learn of their true intentions.

No matter how well a ghost hides among humans, they can never disguise their otherworldliness if Danny watches their eyes. He read somewhere that the eyes were the doors to the soul, and after being Phantom, knowing his eyes actually flash with his emotions, he knows it's true.

Oscar may appear human, but whatever humanity there was in him is long gone.

"It would be safer to sign, young man." He says again, this time in a mocking tone.

Danny laughs. "If I was worried about my safety, I wouldn't be jumping off buildings, would I? Have a good day Oscar."

He stands up, leaving the contract on the table, ignoring the stuttering man. Danny has other things to worry about like the restaurant is open for an hour and a line forming at his foldable table.

It wasn't that his soda was that personally important to him, but it was his main source of income. Phantom was still well out of reach despite the amount of life-threatening activities he was getting up to.

Danny even tried to bother the more violent ghosts of the area by strutting into their space while carrying a stupid little tea cup set. He figured they would react to a perceived attack on their pride—instead, the ghosts were so touched that he thought of them.

He tried to get hit by five more cars. One notable incident had him flying into a light pole. He had mistaken the feeling of finally getting his flight back until the ache in his back started.

Danny had even thrown himself into the Gotham River after being told by multiple people that it was filled with chemicals from illegal dumping from some local faculties.

He was starting to think he would never get his ghost side back until a mugger stabbed him in the stomach. Danny had been counting his bills while walking away from a lovely ghost couple in an alley by the old movie theater when the man had jumped out of the shadows, stabbed him, and ran off with his cash.

Danny had fallen to the ground, aware of Martha's scream and Thomas' swear as he choked on his blood. The ghosts were bound to the alley, but they had walked to the edge of it to watch him and felt horrible that they could do nothing for him.

Thomas had looked up at the sky, screaming, while also trying to push against the barrier that keeps anchored ghosts to their death space. "Bruce! Bruce! Please come here! Bruce! He's dying! He's just a kid! Bruce!"

Not sure who Bruce was or how he could help didn't mean anything to Danny when he felt a sort of burst of power from deep inside his chest that suppressed the pain.

The ghost couple had been horrified when Danny's blood had turned green and his hysterical laugh as his wound closed the second he ripped out the blade.

Phantom had healed him, which meant Danny just had to find a way to get Phantom to come back from whatever lock he was behind.

"Are you okay, Danny?" Heather asks him once he walks past the waitress. She glances at the table where Oscar sits, a wide customer smile still firmly on her friendly, open face, but her eyes are guarded. "He said anything strange to you?"

"Nah, he just wanted to buy my soda before Gotham made me "disappear" and die from lack of trend," Danny laughs, swinging open his little cooler. He ignores how she stiffens, and the first customer in line throws a wild, horrified look in his direction.

He lines up his flavors with a bit of hum, ignoring the tension growing in the restaurant. Oscar makes a show of leaving as if Danny will call out to stop him before he slams the door on his way out. Everyone breathes a sigh of relief when he vanishes, but Danny doesn't mind.

He continues on with his day. Let Oscar try the fear tactics- what is he going to do? Kill him? Ha.

Danny misses the long conversation Heather has with Anthony, who later asks Danny if he wants him to inform Red Hood of the threat. Danny laughs it away, packs up his things, and stores the table and cooler in Anthony's space closet.

Despite the warnings of the concerned staff- Danny had grown quite close with everyone there but not beyond occasional coworkers- he left for his motel. Danny attempted to get hit by a bus on the way home and nearly did had it not been for a driver's fast reflects.

The bus driver had been distracted by his phone- which is why Danny had targeted him- but he had waved away his horrified apologies. As Danny entered Crime Alley, he figured being loud and rumbustious like his Dad would hopefully get him shot.

Gotham had a limited amount of patience for loud people. He picked a silly gum commercial jingle popular in his home dimension and skipped down the sidewalks, yelling the lyrics at the top of his lungs.

Danny didn't even reach the end of the street before a van rolled up next to him. He had enough time to look at it curiously as the van door was flung open, and a group of masked men jumped out. They yanked him inside, throwing a gag over his mouth and slamming him onto the floor.

The wheels scream as the van speeds away, leaving Danny at the mercy of his kidnappers. He tries to wiggle up, but a hard thump against the back of his head- likely from the butt of one of their guns- causes him to crumble down.

"This isn't his usual mark." One commented, looking down at Danny with a cold indifference that he could make out from his eyeholes. "They're usually brown-haired, aren't they?"

"Who cares?" Another answer is, "Just as long as we get paid, who cares what they look like?"

Danny stares at him, wondering if anyone in the van knew this person cared very deeply. Their eyes showed concern, guilt, and the right amount of protective intent, and he felt he wasn't in danger.

He had regrets about what he was doing, to the point of betraying everyone here, or he was an undercover cop. Either option ruined his plan of being shot, though, so Danny wiggled about, ignoring the more hits it got him before he was able to have the gag fall down.

"Are you going to kill me?" He asks the group of four.

"No." One laughs. "But by the time the boss finishes with you, you will wish you were dead like all the others."

"Oh, so it's a waitlist kind of thing?" Danny asks, "Is the list by order of arrival, or did the others make appointments?"

There is a moment of stunned silence. Danny swings his head, looking between everyone, waiting for an answer, but when he receives nothing, he sighs, leaning back into a more comfortable position. They didn't tie him up or anything, so he easily crosses his legs under him and cracks his neck. "If we could kill me first, that would be ideal."

"You want to die?" The guilty one asks.

"Correction, I want to be a ghost."

"Damn, the kid is crazy." The last one- the driver- laughs. "No wonder the boss wanted him."

"By boss, you mean Oscar, don't you." Danny shakes his head. "No, wait, don't answer that. I already know it's him. He has the eyes for it. He's the reason the light-brown hair people are missing, huh? Cyrus mentioned it the last time we talked. Bet you he kidnapped that lady in the antique shop. He stared at us for a long time; Susan had to point him out; Susan is the ghost outside the shop. She taught me how to make the most delicious fudge from the rain of Gotham's downdraught youth- which reminds me of the nickname they gave Baja Blast."

No one speaks after his long-winded rant before Danny leans forward, locking gazes with the guilty one. "Have you ever had your Baja blasted?"

"Um, no?"

"You need to man."

"I can't listen to this shit anymore. Knock him out, but watch the face. The boss likes his merchandise clean."

Danny scoffs, twisting his head to snark at the one sitting in the passenger seat. "Just say, Oscar. We both know it's him."

He feels a hard thump on the back of his head, and the words turn dark. He prays that when he wakes up, he'll have snow-white hair and glowing green eyes.

[blasphemecel]

Michael Kaiser, Alexis Ness — Fanned Out

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader/Alexis Ness WORD COUNT: 2.1k TYPE: Humor, Bad flirting (it's getting worse somehow) NOTE(S): This happens directly after Dog Walking. Another one shot with this reader character is Wardrobe Malfunction (U don't need to read either to know what's going on)

You thought after Ness gave you that sermon earlier, trying to indoctrinate you into the Kaiser cult or whatever, the topic would be over and done with. But no, he’s still going. You wonder how he can go on and on, and on, and on, and on about something so worthless.

Maybe you’re becoming a part of the problem, though, and this isn’t a notion that occurs to you often. You’re sitting next to Kaiser of your own volition, after all, leaving you between them while Ness lectures you from the other side.

In your defense, your plan seemed like it would have a high chance of success. You assumed for sure Ness would be too embarrassed to keep talking about that stuff right in front of Kaiser, and here you are, wrong.

Kaiser also appears to still be half-asleep or something because he’s just picking at his breakfast without paying any heed to either of you. His movements are sluggish and he’s unresponsive, which makes his company about fifteen times more pleasant than it usually is.

“I mean, it’s just- How dare you take Kaiser’s first kiss so carelessly?! If you’re going to do that, it’s at least worth a confession.”

Your abrupt laughter results in you choking on your food and sends you into a severe coughing fit, to the point you’re slapping the table with too much force and gasping for breath. You knew it. This man is going to put you in the dirt.

It takes Kaiser precisely two blinks to register what Ness just blurted out, and it does a great job of shaking the drowsiness out of his system. The two of them are ignoring you as if you’re not on the brink of asphyxiating, and Kaiser seethes, “Ness, you shithead! Just because I fucking tell you something doesn’t mean you need to announce it to the world. What the hell?”

“Sorry, Kaiser,” Ness says, flinching. Apparently he has ordained that your offenses haven’t yet stacked up to deserving the death penalty, though, because he takes mercy on you and smacks you on the back until you spit out whatever got stuck in your throat.

Kaiser stares at you as if your hacking was in some way inconvenient to him. Ness is still babbling, muttering apologies both of your ways (though the ones directed at Kaiser are, of course, more fussy).

Despite the post-almost dying haze, you speak in your typical derisive fashion, “You can’t be serious? That was your first kiss? That’s just pathetic.” For good measure, you add in another cackle at the end.

“It’s not like I’ve never had the opportunity to kiss anyone,” justifies Kaiser. What to make this sentence any sadder than Ness nodding in agreement in the background, like he feels the need to provide some kind of confirmation? “I don’t care about useless gestures like this. How many people have you kissed before, anyway, huh?”

“A profitable amount.” You shrug.

“What does that even mean,” Ness asks in the most incurious tone possible.

“Honestly a little disappointing you’d waste your time on stupid shit instead of giving football your all. I expected better from you.”

Wow, leave it to Kaiser to try and make you look like a loser for this. You kind of respect the move, but you won’t admit it to his face.

“I guess it’s a little wild I have experiences outside of football. Wanna know what’s wilder, though?”

“No. Talk to the-”

“How quick you folded even though you’ve never done it before. That's crazy.” Kaiser rolls his eyes, but it doesn’t discourage you from continuing, “Don’t worry, I don’t blame you. I tend to have this effect on people.”

“Shut up! Kaiser is not easy.”

“You’re such an embarrassment,” Kaiser says, looking at Ness with a very pronounced lack of amusement.

He is about to apologize again — what is he even sorry for? existing? — but this brings your attention back to him, and you swing an arm around his shoulders with a look of intrigue. “You seem like the kinda guy who's never kissed anyone before either. Want me to remedy that for you, too?”

“N-No! Why would you even want to do that with me? You’re sick.” With these final words, Ness proceeds to… hop out of his seat and run off to a different table. Overkill much? Does he have no self esteem at all?

You stare incredulously at the spot he was previously sitting in along with Kaiser, and then you turn to look at each other with a vague sense of confusion as if you’re both unsure you actually witnessed this happen.

“So,” Kaiser begins, fumbling around his food with his fork in a manner he probably considers nonchalant, “if you didn’t notice it was my first time kissing someone, that means it was good and you liked it.”

You smile at him. “With how skilled you are at jumping to conclusions, you should consider a career change to obstacle course racing. Would you like a performance review? Constructive criticism? A rating from one to ten?”

In an impressive show of restraint, Kaiser doesn’t throw any of the bowls in your face.

___

Kaiser has been staring at himself in the mirror for more than thirty minutes with a thoughtless smile on his face.

You’re getting this estimate from the fact he was doing this when you first walked in, and the shit you were taking was on the tougher side, and now you’re done and he’s still at it. He does this nonsense every morning, though, so you’re about to leave him alone… until an idea crosses your mind.

You approach, your reflection coming closer and closer ominously. “Kaiser.”

“Go away. You’re interrupting me,” he says, despite not doing anything you can see at all.

“Hear me out for a second. You can go back to psychotically talking to yourself after.”

“I wasn’t ‘psychotically talking to myself.’”

“Really? Because it looked to me like you were giving yourself a motivational speech in your head.”

“What the fuck do you want? Just get on with it. I don’t have time for this.”

“Clumsy topic segue. But anyway, I’ve been feeling kind of bad about the stuff with the kiss.” Just the mention of it is enough to make him pull an annoyed expression, but you disregard it. “I wanna do something nice for you.”

He looks at you in a way someone who just swallowed an entire lemon, with the exocarp and all, might — weird, but unmistakably thrown off and irked. In a sarcastic tone, he asks, “Why would you want to do something nice for me? Since when are you such a good samaritan?”

You turn around and pull yourself up over the vanity, unfazed by his attitude. “Let me do your eyeliner thing for you.”

…?

It is obvious you have an ulterior motive here. Kaiser’s eyes dart between you and the make-up appliance. He only has his curiosity to blame when he hands it over to you after a while of paranoid scrutiny.

You lean in and push his hair aside with your fingers, using your other hand to draw the usual wing under his waterline. Despite the lack of suspicious or otherwise unusual movements on your end, Kaiser is tense. Nothing sinister is happening and it’s weirding him out.

You finish and switch to the other one. This is unsettling. A sense of foreboding looms over him, and though you’re being prompt about it, the process seems long and arduous in his mind.

Once you’re done, in one swift motion — as if you’ve practiced before — you press the tip of the pen against his forehead and scrawl something, before backing off and beaming at him with smug satisfaction. It all happens so quickly, he doesn’t react with more than a blink at first.

Kaiser’s brows furrow and he glances at himself in the mirror, confirming the unthinkable. “Did you just sign my fucking forehead?”

“For my biggest fan.”

“I’m not your fan. Get over yourself. You’re not Drake.”

“I figured it was fair you’d get my first ever autograph, since I got your first kiss.”

“Go to hell and burn while you’re at it! I have to clean this now.”

“Why would you clean it?” you ask. What kind of moron are you, Kaiser wonders. “I think you should get it tattooed. It costs millions, you know? In fact, you should show it off in front of the others.”

“Please. Whatever I wipe myself with would cost ten times more than your signature ever will.”

“If it helps you sleep at night, Kaiser,” you relent, still coming off as very pleased with yourself, which makes this whole thing more annoying than it needs to be. Though he looks like he’s about to bite your face off, you invade his personal space even further and inch closer, your nose almost brushing against his. “You can say anything you want. Doesn’t change the fact that you’re my little bitch.”

“Stop calling me that! What’s wrong with you?!” he fumes, reaching to grip your waist and attempting to push you off the countertop.

You almost fall despite resisting, too, but you throw the eyeliner at his face, and it creates enough of a diversion for you to slide down without accident. You’re at the door by the time you turn around to address him again. “I have to admit, the elephantine size of your forehead is what really made this possible for me. Thank you for this opportunity.”

Ele- ele-what?

He clenches his fists, grits his teeth, on the cusp of a hypertension headache. You’re so going to get it! Kaiser doesn’t know yet how he will go about hiring a hitman to kill you while you’re both still stuck in Blue Lock, but Ness is here, which means murder isn’t entirely off the table.

___

Kaiser relays the story of your little bathroom encounter to Ness with the seriousness and urgency of a kidnapper laying down ransom demands. Another person’s name on his- his- his… royal but not at all big forehead, it’s sacrilegious. He’s getting pissed off all over again thinking about it.

Of course, Ness, too, treats the matter as deserving of the gravity Kaiser is giving it. “Don’t worry,” he says. But Kaiser isn’t worried. He is bloodthirsty. “There’s only one way to deal with inflated balloon heads like that. I’ll take care of it.”

“How? You know something I don’t?”

With his usual guileless smile on his face — reminiscent of a frog — Ness leads the way and, in an uncharacteristically confident manner, promises you ‘will be very embarrassed.’

By now Kaiser is following him just because he wants to see whatever is about to go down. It doesn’t take them long to cross the field and reach you.

You’re bouncing a ball on your foot, and once you notice them, you wave with grandiosity. “Hello, numbskulls. Did you come closer so you can admire me better?”

Kaiser doesn’t even know where to begin with this statement, but Ness spares him the effort because without any hesitation, he says, “Yes.”

Snapping his head to stare at him with offense, Kaiser now has to wonder if Ness was the real maniac all along.

You seem to share similar sentiments because your eye twitches and remains stuck half open after. The ball rolls away when you fail to catch it. “What- huh? Huuuuh? You’re just gonna agree with me?”

“Yes. You’re an amazing player with exceptional abilities,” Ness says pleasantly. Candidly. “Not to mention how clever you are. You’re also really good at thinking on the spot. I don’t just mean on the field, but in general, too. Your wit is impressive.”

These compliments are way too upfront and honest. A chill goes down your spine and you gape at him, disturbed. Then your expression morphs into something more awkward — nonplussed, maybe, nervous in some manner — and you say, “I-I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I don’t like it.”

Probably realizing your usual poise is ebbing away, you grimace, cover your face with your forearm as if you are doing a bad job of shielding yourself from imaginary sunlight and pivot around before sprinting away from them at max speed while screaming something incoherent in terror.

“What?” Kaiser yells, gesturing at your fleeing figure. “What’s with that reaction?! No way? What? Over a few nice words? What the hell? What!”

As usual, Ness’s appearance is innocent enough, but there’s a certain glint in his eyes now, like he’s hungry for more power. “Kaiser… Kaiser, I… I did it!”

Kaiser considers making a getaway, but he already saw how unbecoming it is.

___

Oh I know you guysare sick of me...

My sheltered no life experiences outside of kicking a ball Kaiser agenda. With the way he acts I wouldnt be surprised if his mother didnt hold him after giving birth to him

[dolphin1812]

We now turn to revolutionary groups like Les Amis de l’ABC!

The Faubourg Saint-Antoine was a primarily working class area known for its revolutionary sentiments. That combination of ideological motives (its revolutionary history) and economic ones (its working class inhabitants would be more affected by the financial turbulence of the early 1830s) helps explain why it would be the focus within Paris (and Paris, of course, would be the focus in France because of its history and its status as the capital). Hugo addresses this later on in the chapter as well.

Another quick historical note: some of the lines in this chapter come from actual documents! According to the notes in the Donougher translation, the section on “The passages which touched the crowd most deeply” draws heavily on a judicial inquiry into the events of April 1834 (government troops fired on the inhabitants of a building). This is also true of many of the references to committees. By mixing real quotations with documents of his own making, Hugo lends legitimacy to his historical claims as he further immerses us in the atmosphere of the time.

Part of that atmosphere was the constant fear of being caught by the authorities. The reference to “Babeuf” really being “Gisquet” is an allusion to the prefect of police; we can also see that fear in accusations of some being “spies,” and the implication that organizations kept an eye on their own members. Secrecy was necessary to operate, but it was stressful, too. Those organizing couldn’t be too lax in who they trusted with the real possibility of arrest being ever-present. This isn’t to say an atmosphere of total suspicion prevailed – Les Amis clearly all trust each other, as a “family,” and discontent was commonly spoken of in the street – but that was all combined with caution. It’s less “no one trusted each other” and more Valjean’s porter being suspicious of Marius; there was plenty of solidarity between workers especially and people disfavored by monarchy more broadly, but there was also an awareness of what could be unsafe and who looked suspicious.

We also get a better notion of the range of ideas! The man accused of being a spy is more economically radical than we’ve heard so far, and is suspicious of republicans. Of course, we don’t know if this specific man is trustworthy, but it does suggest that people were questioning the existence of private property and similar ideas, and that republicanism itself came under suspicion in some circles (probably because of the “compromise rule” of Louis Philippe). (There are also explicit references to communists later on). These groups are also very working class compared to Les Amis, who are mostly defined as students (with the notable exception of Feuilly). They could have origins in the working or middle classes (Bahorel was a student, but from a peasant background!), but these organizations are definitely of the working class. There are allusions to bourgeois joining in, but they’re not the main focus here.

Hugo’s use of the word “savage” at the end of the chapter is uncomfortable, but it’s an intentional discomfort. For being violent (and lower class), that is exactly the kind of language that would have been used to describe them in critical writings at the time. Many in Hugo’s audience, for instance, may have found their specific ideas (like greater democracy, less poverty, an end to the death penalty, etc) quite convincing, but may have disagreed with their means (rebellion). Hugo ends on a Combeferre-like note of gradual progress that is less violent, but we should keep in mind that both of them end up affiliated with republicans here on the grounds that their violence is the better option. The “civilized men of barbarism” look peaceful, but are ultimately more harmful, allowing injustices as long as they are out of sight. Hugo’s use of “savage,” then, was intended to push his audience to question who was really “barbaric”: a person rebelling because their rights were denied to them, or someone denying the rights of others?

[monstersdownthepath]

Monster Spotlight: Grendel

CR 19/MR 7

Chaotic Evil Large Monstrous Humanoid

Bestiary 4, pg. 145

Hideous, terrible, and almost unstoppable, Grendel is described by the book as less of a creature and more of a force of nature, but a quick look at his lore block (especially his 2e one) reveals this not to be the case. If he were a force of nature, he would be an impartial destroyer! Instead, though, he specifically targets locations where joy runs high and celebrations ring out into the wilderness, seeking to crush as much happiness as possible with his every foray into civilization. Despising the sounds of happiness and revelry, Grendel attacks such settings with all the brutality of a tornado and the spiteful fury of a demon... After he sneaks, ever so quietly despite his bulk, into the settlement to murder its greatest warriors while they sleep so that no survivors could ever come close to opposing him. He does not seek a fair fight. He’s not even in it for the thrill of battle; he exists to cause pain, spread misery, and remind humanity that death is the only constant in life. Little else brings him more joy than watching the aftermath of his own carnage from afar, seeing the survivors sob over the broken and shredded bodies of their loved ones.

If you’re wondering just how a lumbering goliath like him can be sneaky, look no further than Mythic Skill Focus (Stealth), which allows Grendel to take 10s and 20s on his Stealth checks even while under duress. Without rolling a single dice, Grendel can have a flat 34 to Stealth no matter what the situation, making him all but invisible to the societies he preys upon as he slips behind houses, between shadows, and even across rooftops with no more noise than the wind. If he’s not in any particular hurry, that’s a 44 to Stealth instead, letting him scout out his prey in advance with little risk of being detected. A civilization may be be visited by this horror for many days before he decides to strike the moment they’re at their weakest, slaughtering as many warriors as he can under the cover of night before roaring in rampage to scatter the rest like roaches caught in the sunlight. Unfortunately for him, he NEEDS to be sneaky, because he has only meager resistances (10 each of Cold, Acid, and Fire), no resistances or immunities to any status ailments, and low saves for his Hit Dice.

Against non-Mythic targets, Grendel can certainly feel like a force of nature. He rolls all Fortitude and Will saves against the abilities of non-Mythic foes twice and picks which result he wishes to use, and he has 7 charges of Mythic Surge to use each day as he sees fit to add +1d10 to any d20 roll he feels like. While saving throws are nice and all, Grendel is built to attack, and his Brutal Surge ability emphasizes that better than any: Whenever he Surges on an attack roll, the 1d10 is added to the damage roll as well. He ALREADY has Mythic Power Attack, allowing him to take a -6 penalty to his attack rolls for +18 to damage, so his Surge has a decent chance of negating the penalty altogether and letting him pile sky-high damage... if he doesn’t just opt to spend a Surge point to eliminate the attack penalty completely for 1 whole minute, letting him tack +18 damage to his Full-Attack without worry.

Grendel’s sole means of offense is his raw, physical power: His gigantic claws and his gnashing jaws. Unusually, his jaws are less dangerous than his claws, dealing only 4d8+6 damage compared to 3d10+13 (these are just base numbers; remember he tends to have 18 extra damage!). Those nails also have a critical range of 19-20, and he’s got Bleeding and Exhausting Critical waiting to ruin a melee fighter’s chance of hurting him at all. His claws also Grab onto anything they manage to strike, and more than just about any monster in any book, staying free of Grendel’s grapple should be your highest possible priority. If you don’t have Freedom of Movement or couldn’t cast it before he dropped in and ambushed your party, the casters need to put it on whoever he’s closest to as swiftly as they possibly can, because anyone who remains in his grip when his turn rolls around again is subject to very literally being torn limb from limb.

There is no saving throw a victim can make to prevent their Gruesome Dismemberment, ONLY breaking out of his grapple or not being grappled in the first place can avoid it. Otherwise, Grendel can spend a Surge point to immediately and unavoidably tear off one of the victim’s arms or legs, potentially robbing them of their weapons or shields if they’re a martial character, their somatic spells if they’re a caster, or their mobility if they’re... anything that doesn’t want to be anywhere near Grendel, which should be everything. The agonizing pain inflicts the sickened condition and the cruel tearing deals 2d6 extra bleed damage, both of which last until magical healing is applied, but of course healing the damage is meaningless if the victim can’t break free of Grendel’s grip, because then he can just do it again.

While your options for reattaching severed limbs are plentiful by the time you can expect to fight something like Grendel, your options for doing it mid-combat are basically next to nothing. Regenerate takes 3 rounds to cast, Trollskin Tourniquets take 24 hours to work, and Rings of Regeneration (alongside the regenerative Ioun Stones) take hours or days to restore lost limbs, so none of those options in particular do much to undo the damage the lumbering sadist does. The party’s frontliners are one failed grapple check away from becoming dead weight, and while Grendel is no genius by any stretch of the imagination, he’s smart and wise enough to recognize two-handed weapons or two-weapon fighters, and cautious enough to scout the party ahead of time for priority targets like casters who need both their arms for somatic components, mobile midliners who he can pluck the legs from, and--again--frontliners whose builds rely on them having all their limbs.

Not that those builds would have done much good, anyway; the legends say that Grendel cannot be slain by any weapon or spell, and they’re right. He’s not only Unstoppable, able to expend Surge points to shrug off an enormous list of status ailments (and can do so even if those ailments would have kept him from acting), but he flat out cannot be killed by weapon attacks! Is this a unique ability or power he has?

Nope!

It’s Regeneration 10. Humble Regen 10, which can only be suppressed if Grendel is attacked by a natural weapon or unarmed attack. Depending on your party composition (mainly whether or not there’s a Monk or Brawler present), you’ll either be howling in frustration as the beast refuses to die and slinks back into the swamplands to heal after tearing your arms off, or you won’t notice he even has Regeneration. While this may seem like a pretty glaring weakness, and you may think to yourself ‘so all we have to do is slap him really hard to suppress his healing?’ you’re falling into a terrible trap. Grendel’s DR 10 can only be bypassed by an Epic-quality weapon, so unless you can throw a punch with the force of a greataxe rolling max damage, this is a job for Monks, Brawlers, Wild Shaped Druids, and Animal Companions. Y’know, provided he hasn’t torn off their limbs.

You can read more about them here.

[stardustbarbarians]

Even Sinners Drink the Wine

A Too Pretty For War Prologue

A Samuel Kiszka / Daniel Wagner fic

Summary: Years before he became the king of Athens, Prince Samuel risked his life in order to save his best friend.

Tags: Prince!Sam, Court Member!Daniel, life or death satiations, Savior Sammy, Sam-centric

Trigger Warnigns: mentions of torture / death penalty

Words: 4.2 k

A/N: Last part! Sorry this took a second to upload! But thank you to everyone who's read and enjoyed this! This truly was just a little passion project of mine and I'm glad that other people enjoyed it, too. But, enough from me. Let's get back to Athens. As always, enjoy! <3

+++

Knowing his way back better than the trip to the cave, Samuel was able to make it to the castle twice as fast. As much as he wanted to have Althea race home as fast as possible, it was nearly impossible with his injury and he would never push her that hard. That being said, the sun was setting by the time he returned, the sky burning in vibrant oranges and pinks. 

Just when he saw the palace peaking through the trees, Samuel dismounted - with difficulty and biting back his noises of agony - and led Althea quietly to the stables. This was a part of Jake’s plan as well. A servant was waiting for Sam in the stables, ready to help him sneak back into the castle. 

“Rest now, girl,” Sam soothed, petting her side before handing her reins to a stableboy. 

“This way, your majesty. Quickly,” the serving girl - one of the ones tasked with maintaining Jacob’s chambers while he was away - waved towards a passage that Samuel had never seen before. 

“What is this place?” he inquired after stepping inside.

“These are the servant’s passages. It is how we travel so quickly between rooms,” she answered, attempting to keep a pace that was quick but still accommodated Sam’s lack of mobility. 

He was beyond confused, believing he knew every nook and cranny of the palace. He and Daniel used to explore the place when they were children while the twins were off getting lessons. They had found more than a few secrets that Sam knew his parents would not want him knowing. How had these passages managed to slip his and Daniel’s notice? 

“This door will lead you to the hallway next to the healing ward,” the woman told Sam, pushing open the heavy false wall all by herself and making it seem easy. 

“Thank you for what you have done for us,” Samuel spoke genuinely, offering her a sweet smile that most likely looked off-putting considering his haggard appearance. 

Returning the smile, she stepped out of the way of the prince after checking for any signs of guards or other things that would hinder Sam. 

Sam slipped out into the corridor as best he could, trying hard not to make any noise as he stumbled a few steps. With a grunt, Sam heard the servant closing the passageway behind him as she slipped away. It felt strange having to sneak around in his own home, but he had to. He was too close to the end to lose now. And while he could technically do this part without the sneaking, it was rather hard to explain away his grime and wound if he had supposedly spent all day in the castle. 

Finally, Sam entered the healing ward. As he pushed open the heavy doors, the youngest royal saw Giatrós patting Daniel’s brow with a damp cloth and, most surprisingly, his sister. Both of them raised their heads at the disturbance, their eyes widening at the sight of the prince. 

“Oh, gods,” Giatrós exclaimed before getting up from his stool, the wooden furniture clattering to the ground in his haste. If Sam wasn’t so thoroughly focused, that would have made him jump. 

Removing the bag from his shoulder, he lifted it triumphantly in the air. “I succeeded.” 

“I-” the physician started, his mouth gaping as the royal’s words sunk in, “hand it over, if you would.” 

Samuel did so, forcing his eyes to stay on the man in front of him rather than on the sickly man in the bed. Just out of the corner of his eye, Sam could see him writhing and fussing under his sheets. It made his mouth dry out in worry. 

“Samuel, what happened to you??” Princess Veronica asked, disbelief, worry, and a hint of disgust mixing on her face. 

“Sammy.” 

Every head in the room turned towards Daniel. It was so quiet that it was impressive they had even heard it. Truly, it was just a puff of breath. But, right as rain, he said Samuel’s name. Finally seeing him for the first time in hours, Sam felt his knees nearly buckle beneath him. He had turned a ghostly pale, sweat coating every inch of his skin. He had since been changed out of his armor, a thin silk clinging to his sweat slick body. His eyes, though shut, were bruised and sunken in. 

“He has been doing that since your departure, your majesty,” Giatrós informed over his shoulder, rifling through Sam’s bag, “almost as if he knew you were in danger and had left.” 

“Which causes us to circle back to my initial question,” Veronica interjected, grabbing her brother by the shoulder and turning him to face her, “what in the name of the gods happened to you?” 

“I had to save Daniel’s life. That is what happened to me,” Sam curtly answered, frankly not all that into talking about his experience quite yet. 

“Oh, that will not do, Samuel.” She had employed a tone that he had heard their mother use when she caught them in a lie. Sam winced as he realized how blatantly rude he had been to his older sister. 

With a sigh, Samuel walked over to the abandoned stool next to his best friend, trying his best to hide his limp. “I shall go into more details later. As of now, I fear I am too drained to recount everything.” 

“You are hurt,” she pointed out, her voice catching in her throat as she said the words. Her face had gone pale, a hand flying to her mouth as her eyes widened at the sight.

“My gods, you actually did it,” Giatrós exclaimed, hoisting the wretched plant into the light to examine it closer. 

“Try not to act so surprised,” Sam grumbled over his shoulder, lacing his fingers between Daniel’s and taking over dabbing his brow with the abandoned cloth. 

“Giatrós! He is injured!” the princess repeated, not content to be ignored. 

Finally, the physician glanced over towards the prince. He had his leg stretched out so his knee was unbent, alleviating some of the pressure from where it was swelling and turning red on his thigh. 

“What caused that?” the healer inquired, his hands lowering the Asclepius’s Lament onto the work bench. 

“I am far from the top priority right now! I thank you for your concerns, both of you, but might I remind you that Daniel is fighting off death!” 

He had not meant to shout like that, but he felt it was necessary. Both Veronica and Giatrós snapped back into themselves, having realized the gravity of the situation. With a softly muttered apology, the princess offered to help the physician. 

Sam went back to wiping the sweat from his friend’s face, clinging to his hand as if it were the only thing keeping Daniel’s shade bound to his body. HIs entire body continued to be wracked with these tiny convulsions, never able to stay perfectly still. The man kept muttering various iterations of Sam’s name under his breath, sometimes even vocalizing them in groans of what Samuel could only assume were pain. Each passage of his name through Daniel’s lips caused Samuel’s heart to painfully contract. 

“Sammy, we need you to move,” Veronica gently ordered, a hand placed on his shoulder. 

Looking over at them, he saw that they were hovering just behind him, Giatrós holding a bowl of what Sam could only hope was the cure. Moving away as swiftly as possible and retracting his hand, Samuel let them have the space to work. 

He paced off to the side, watching the two of them like an eagle circling its prey. 

“You utilized only the roots, correct?” he asked worriedly, remembering that very vital piece of information from the scroll. 

“Indeed I did,” the healer patiently answered, pouring a thick, yellowish paste into Daniel’s mouth. “Your highness, please place your fingers on his neck and check his pulse.” 

That statement only caused the prince’s worry to spike. He had taken to plowing his fingers through his hair, pulling more than a few webs out of the strands and causing chills to crawl across his skin. 

“His heart is beating stronger,” Veronica informed, a hopeful smile on her lips. 

“Excellent. Now, all we need to do is wait for Daniel to awaken,” Giatrós added, pressing a hand onto Daniel’s brow to check his temperature. 

There was no change. 

Minutes passed and nothing transpired. Samuel had begun to think he failed, that he had taken the wrong plant back and had sealed his best friend’s fate. 

After what seemed like an eternity, the bed-ridden man gasped quietly before his eyes fluttered open. 

“DANIEL!” Samuel cried, all but flying over to the man in question. 

The princess and the physician had barely enough time to retreat before the young royal was wrapping his arms around his best friend’s neck and burying his face into his chest. Daniel, although confused from Sam’s action, had immediately returned the gesture. Sam’s chest swelled with so many positive emotions they began to overflow. He felt tears streaming down his cheeks as his entire body shook with the force of his sobs. 

He was alive. He had done it. Daniel was healed and he would survive. Samuel could not help but inhale his scent, reassuring himself that this was no hallucination and that his best friend was, indeed, wrapped in his arms with his heart strongly beating within his chest. Despite the sweat and grime that had accumulated onto him, Sam considered it to be the sweetest smell to ever pass his lungs. 

“Are you alright?” Daniel whispered, his mouth hovering closely to Sam’s ear. His breath was warm as it tickled his ear, another indicator that this was real and that he would not wake in a slimy puddle in that reprehensible cavern. 

“I-I was… I was worried sick about you. Giatrós said you had hardly any chance of survival and I just-” more sobs overtook Sam’s body as relief crashed into him. 

Daniel’s arms wrapped tighter around Samuel’s body, practically smothering the prince. But he had far from any qualms over it. Sam was pressed so hard into Danny’s chest that he could feel that strong and steady heartbeat in his own rib cage. He wished - prayed, you could say - that it would be possible for him to slip between Danny’s ribs in order to keep that thrumming close to him at all times, to have it as a keepsake for when life became unbearable. 

“I am alright now, Sammy. There is no need to worry any longer,” the ward reassured, his voice a gentle rumble in Sam’s ear. The prince felt it in his own chest, causing his heart to lurch forward as if it were attempting to get physically closer to Daniel. Never one to ignore his heart’s desires, Sam nestled even closer to Daniel, somehow breaching the limit of what he thought was possible with that action; he was already clung so tightly to Daniel, yet he managed to get even nearer. 

“Promise me you will never fall ill like that ever again. I cannot lose you,” Samuel whispered, his words catching in his throat from how much pure emotion was intertwined with them. His tears were still falling down his face, warm against his skin as they flowed endlessly like a stream. 

“I promise,” Danny swore, his tone soft as he nuzzled his face deeper into Sam’s neck. “I promise.” His hand had reached up to tangle into Sam’s hair, smoothing it in a slow motion as his fingers ran through the locks. 

It had fallen silent in the room after that, save for Sam’s subtle cries. As far as either Sam or Danny was concerned, they were the only two shades left in the whole of the world. Zeus himself could descend from Olympus and strike them both down and they would not move. Nothing could get them to remove themselves from the other… save for one thing. 

Sam was vaguely aware of the doors to the infirmary opening, numerous footsteps following. 

“SAMUEL FRANCIS!”

The youngest royal’s head shot straight up, his arms still entangled with his best friend and still held in a rather intimate embrace. Standing at the entrance of the healing wing, surrounded by guards and his older brother, was Samuel’s father. 

Sam’s stomach had not dropped so quickly in his entire life. He had wanted to run, to hide, to do something other than stare dumbly at the king while in an incriminating position with Daniel in his arms. A healed Daniel, while he was obviously covered in grime from venturing outside the palace grounds. 

“Arrest him,” the king growled, pointing at his youngest. 

“Father, please!” Veronica cried. 

Samuel gulped nervously, eyes going as wide as the moon. He was certain he looked pale as a shade as all the blood drained from his face. 

The only thing that snapped him from his panic was the tightening of Daniel’s grip as he attempted to pull Sam closer to him in the desperate hope that it would save him from the guards attempting to pry the prince from his grasp. It was no use, Daniel was still weak from the poison and there were too many soldiers. 

“Sammy, no!” the ward cried, arms reaching out towards him from his position in the bed, a distraught look written all over his face. Samuel also attempted to reach for him, but it was useless. The guards had wrestled and pinned his arms to his sides. 

“Your highness, what was that for??” Daniel demanded, his voice rough and gravelly as he yelled. 

“I am overjoyed that you are well, Daniel, but Prince Samuel needs to learn his lesson and not defy me,” Sam overheard the king say as he was being dragged away, kicking and screaming like a wild animal caught in a trap. 

“Unhand me!!” Samuel demanded, knowing it was for naught. These soldiers were the king’s personal guards. To them, there was no higher authority than his father. 

Off to the side, jogging alongside the burly men to keep pace, was the crowned prince. 

“Sam, I apologize. This is my fault, I attempted to keep Father from the infirmary, but he-” 

“It is not your fault, Jake. It is far from it. I only blame that VENOMOUS CUR WHO FANCIES HIMSELF AS KING!!” he bellowed, knowing that his voice carried down the sandstone halls and into the open doors of the infirmary where his father still stood. He was still struggling against the bruising grip the soldiers had on him. 

Jacob winced at Sam’s words, knowing he was only causing more trouble for himself. But the young prince did not care in his blinding rage. 

“I shall talk to Mother. Perhaps she will be able to sway the king,” Jake offered, slowing down when they came to the split in the hallways that led down to the dungeons and the other towards their mother’s chambers. 

“I doubt he will change his mind, but I thank you all the same!” Sam called as he was dragged further and further away, down towards the bowels of the palace where the dungeons were. 

+++

“You cannot house me here forever,” Samuel spat, his arms crossed over his chest as he paced in his cell like a caged animal. 

“I never intended to, but with your attitude worsening, it becomes more and more a tempting offer,” the king shot back, standing before his son in his full regalia, cape and all. 

“It has been a week, Father! A whole forsaken week I have been locked in this slum! So, forgive me if I seem a little irate, but the rats here are hardly good company!!” 

The king closed his eyes, seemingly attempting to keep his temper in check. Sam wondered what the special occasion was considering he never stopped his rage before. 

“Are you willing to apologize, Samuel?” His words were slow, deliberately measured to keep his anger from entering them. 

At that, Sam lunged at the bars, wrapping his hands around them as he came face to face with his father. He bared his teeth in pure rage, feeling just like the lions his father locked into cages for his entertainment. 

“I will never apologize for saving Daniel’s life,” he hissed, venom dripping from every word he spat. 

“Then you leave me with no choice,” the king growled, leaning in towards his son. He would not be sized up by an eighteen year old, let alone his own blood. 

Turning on his heel, the king made for the door. Samuel had to resist the urge to hiss at him as his brilliant red cape billowed out from behind him. 

“I shall see you again in a month when your sentence ends. You should mark yourself thankful, most men who are charged with treason would be hammered to a cross by now,” his father called over his shoulder. 

“Perhaps you should! I am certain it would save you and the kingdom much grief!” Sam yelled after his father, unwilling to be intimated by the man and his threats. 

“Do not tempt me!!” 

Sam, unable to help himself, performed an obscene gesture towards his father when he heard the door slam. With an agitated huff, he plopped himself down onto the uncomfortable cot he had been sleeping on. The action caused the pain in his leg to flare up, the prince smoothing it with his hand. It had healed significantly over the past week - Giatrós had managed to convince the king to allow him to treat his son’s wound, using leeches on the wretched thing - but it was still tender. 

It was not much longer that Sam heard footsteps descending the stairs towards his cell. Rolling his eyes, he assumed it was the king once more. He kept his eyes trained on the floor, unwilling to give him the satisfaction. 

“Finally cave into temptation and come to crucify me, Father?” 

When there was no answer and the footsteps ceased right at his cell door, Samuel lifted his head up and looked over at the visitor. A bright and involuntary smile crept its way across his face. 

“Daniel,” he breathed, the smile evident in his words. He looked so much healthier, his skin nearly glowing. Sam immediately sprang to his feet, all but racing over to the bars to be closer to his best friend. “What a pleasant surprise.” 

“I imagine so if you believed me to be the king,” Daniel said, a smile of his own featured prominently on his lips. Though it was considerably less bright, weighed down by concern. 

“How are you feeling?” Sam asked, resisting the urge to reach out and play with a curl that fell onto Daniel’s cheek. 

“I am doing alright, but I should be the one asking you that,” Danny refuted, that concern coming to the forefront. 

“I was not the one poisoned,” Sam argued lightly, his smile faltering. 

“According to Giatrós, you were poisoned when you got that bite.” The ward pointed at the prince’s wounded leg. 

“Oh, please, it was nothing. Just hallucinated a few things and felt a little pain. Nothing I cannot handle,” Samuel joked, flashing his best friend his most charming smile. He had made his way back onto his cot, unable to look Daniel in the eyes for long. 

The smile did not work. 

“You are an idiot and a fool for having risked your life like you did. I do not know whether to congratulate you for your sheer dumb luck or reprimand you for your stupidity!” 

“Like I told the king, I will not apologize for saving your life!” Sam had shot up from his seat once more, coming face to face with the ward as his anger spiked. 

“What if you had gotten killed?? Would that have been worth it?!” 

“I WAS NOT ABOUT TO SIT THERE AND ALLOW YOU TO DIE!” 

A silence befell the two, both unimaginably angry for the wrong reasons. They searched one another’s eyes, rage burning within them. 

Finally, Daniel let out a long sigh. 

“I suppose I do owe you my life,” he muttered quietly, his eyes darting off to the side as he rested his head on the bars. 

“Some gratitude would be appreciated,” Sam grumbled, resting the back of his head against the stone of the cell wall he leaned on. 

Reaching through the bars, Daniel grabbed his best friend by the hand. Sam had not been expecting the contact, surprise causing him to look down. He looked from their intertwined hands to Daniel’s face, seeing a watery smile on it. 

“Thank you,” he breathed, appreciation and genuine gratitude flowing with the words. 

Sam returned the gratitude with a squeeze of his hand. But Danny did not drop his. They stayed like that for an awkward moment, not knowing how to handle the emotions either of them were experiencing. 

“Oh, your mother wished for me to give you this,” Daniel quickly spoke, removing his hand from his best friend’s and removing a cord that hung from his neck. Dangling off of the dark leather cord was a glass pendant that Sam could not make out what it was.

Gently, he took the necklace from Daniel and studied it. It was forged from a clear glass, the pendant no bigger than the nail of his thumb. As he examined it closer, turning it over between his fingers, it had finally clicked. 

“She wanted me to tell you it is a token of how proud she is of you. She would give it to you in person, but she suffers a terrible headache right now,” Daniel informed, a small smile pulling at his lips. 

“It's… a swan…” 

Tears welled in his eyes as he slipped the necklace on, very careful not to damage it in any way. 

“I never knew why she referred to you as that,” Daniel admitted, leaning against the bars to better look at his best friend wearing the necklace. 

“Oh, it is quite amusing, really. Veronica and the twins used to tease me for being an odd looking baby… this was before you began living here. And I used to cry and cry to my mother, telling her how mean my siblings were being to me. And then she would stroke my hair and tell me that I would one day flourish into a beautiful young man; just how swans grow beautiful as they age.” 

“She was right, you know,” Daniel shyly admitted, looking at Samuel through his eyelashes as color flushed his cheeks. 

Sam suddenly felt color of his own flood his face. He could not look at Daniel for long, clearing his throat and darting his eyes away. The air once more became awkward between them, nervous laughs emitting from both parties. 

“So, how long are you stuck in there?” Daniel asked, finally breaking the tension between them. 

“A month,” Samuel grumbled, that sour mood filling his veins once again. 

“And there is no way to get you out sooner?” 

The young royal gave Daniel a long suffering look. He was, very unfortunately, at the mercy of the king. And both father and son were stubborn as mules. It would take interference from the gods in order to get one of them to budge on any topic they were on opposing sides of. 

“Right,” Danny sighed, brushing his curls behind his ear. 

“W-Would… would you mind keeping me company down here?” Sam stuttered, unable to look at Daniel as he spoke. 

Able to take on venomous spiders and death-defying heights, but unable to look your best friend in the eye 

With that thought creeping into his mind, Sam forced himself to look at Daniel. Immediately he felt a jolt run through his body. There was a look on the ward’s face that Sam could not place. 

“Uh, only if you wish to, that is. I would not want you down in this decrepit place against your will. And, even then, you do not have to show up every day-” 

“Samuel,” Daniel gently interrupted, placing his hand back into his best friend’s. It worked like a charm. The prince snapped his mouth shut and watched Daniel carefully. 

He offered Sam a smile, a warm one that reached his eyes and caused them to sparkle despite the horrible lighting of the dungeon. It caused butterflies to set loose within Sam’s stomach, their wings beating rapidly inside him. 

“I would love spending time with you. And it would not be a chore to do so,” Daniel reassured, talking in very blatant terms so that his meaning would not be misconstrued. 

Samuel finally wore a smile of his own. Suddenly, a month’s time in his dingy cell did not look so bleak. 

Daniel kept his promise, visiting Samuel every day for a month’s time. They never ran out of topics to discuss, oftentimes just expressing their thoughts aloud. And upon his release, this behavior did not cease. Neither person tired of the other’s company, always choosing them over solitude. And for years, that was the case; prince and scholar attached at the hip. 

Until their peace was interrupted after Samuel turned twenty-three. 

But, that story has already been told. For now, we leave the two in peace, unintentionally planning for a future that featured the other prominently. 

+++

Tag List: @doodle417 @sammykiszkasunusedshoes @jmks-housewife @ageoferin @alwayssotiredbutneverofyou @etoilesnoor @ascendingtostardust @godlygreta @s0livagant @gretavanflowerpower @morganic-goods @dannythedog @baguettejuliette @fan-girl-97 @gaby-gvf @age-of-nyahh @mzbrightside @myownparadise96 @xserenax-13 @sammysvanfeet @loofypoofy @chalametpwk @seventieswhore @razorbladekiszka @capturethechaos @unfortunatelykristin @welightthefire @gretavanfleas @sammiejane22 @satanplayshisfluteforhim @starsasone @mintysammykiszka @writingcold @tearsofbri @gretasmokerising @streamofstardust @lunaindigoraven @jakeydoesit @tripthelightfandomtastic @sunfl0wer-power @wingedgardener2000 @gretavanbitches @teddiie @gardensGateDaisy @sparrowofthedawnsworld @angelbabyyy99 @sammysprincess @whollyfreeamongststars @gretaswhore28 @l0rdoffli3s @kay-jordan @lightmyloverry @kenzie18 @gotavansleep @roosterbbradley @freckled-wonder @flower-power-anthem @Gabyvanfleet @Sarakay-gvf @Mamalikes-gvf @josh-iamyour-mama @st4rdust-ch0rds @pr41sethemoon @fallonfatality @earthlysorrows @jessicafg03 @rossy1080 @hippievanfleet @spark-my-nature @hayley1623 @schleeble @gretavanflipflop @candycigsonacolortv @lyndszee @malany-gvf @demolitionndann @ofthecaravel @t00turnttrauma

[idridian]

I would love to hear about your crime=queer reading of The Hoodlum Priest!

the simple answer is that it's exactly what it says on the tin: i watch the film and pretend like the way the ex-convicts - and, to some extent, father clark, as the only person who is willing to engage with them on their own terms - are treated is a metaphor for the way queer people were treated by society in that era. namely they're outcasts, denied work and housing and legal representation, treated with extreme prejudice, existing on the edges of society and othered by 'squares' (non-criminals). the entire plot centres around clark's attempts to carve a safe space for convicts in this world - the halfway house where they're among people who share their experiences and have an actual support network

(and like. obviously this film isn't actually doing queer subtext. it's very straightforward about its message re: crime and rehabilitation and death penalty and what have you. but it just so happens that all the struggles that the ex-convicts go through are ALSO things that apply to queer people)

then of course we have the main thing that makes me eat queer drywall about hoodlum priest, which is the entire dynamic of the relationship between father clark and billy. it's... a lot

pretty sure this was more a limitation of them not being allowed to have anybody say swearwords (bc it's the 1960s and they would have gone directly to movie jail for it), but i have to mention this because it made me do the most hilarious double take when i watched the film. so basically the criminals all talk kinda weird, and when billy and his friend pio first visit clark, he grills them about their (really bad and not well thought out) plan for a heist, to the point where billy gets pissed and runs off. at which point pio turns to clark and goes "you queered it. you queered it; what'd you do that for?" and listen, i KNOW they mean it in the sense of "you messed with him/annoyed him" but COME ONNNNNN

there's the obvious one, of course: "preach to me, daddy," billy says snarkily, with his shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, while in a crowded elevator with clark standing directly behind him. what a normal and heterosexual thing to do

in turn, clark affectionately calls billy "little guy" throughout the film. it's kind of adorable right until the point where it becomes THE MOST HEARTWRENCHING THING IN THE UNIVERSE

"little guy" is a nickname he seems to use for all the young ex-convicts who come to him for help. as evidenced by the fact that he also calls pio that when he and billy first visit. and by this i mean that clark opens the door for them with his shirt partially unbuttoned, not in his Priest Outfit, and goes "heya, little guy~" in the MOST suggestive tone possible i stg. like the vibe of it is straight up that he thought pio was there for a quick dicking

after the aforementioned Preach To Me, Daddy incident, clark takes billy under his wing and helps him find proper work. the first step to this is taking billy clothes shopping and buying him a nice shirt. sugar daddy behaviour

also jsyk billy pulls his old shirt off to try on the new one in the middle of the store with clark right there and watching. again, a very normal and heterosexual thing to do. zero qualms about undressing in front of another man (side effect of two years in prison, perhaps. but also prisons are kind of notorious for homosexual activity, aren't they)

i'm not sure how to categorise the watermelon thing. it's very odd and whimsical. but i'm putting it up for consideration. fellas, is it gay to break open a watermelon on the fuckin pavement and eat it while crouching next to another man and you're both smiling like goofballs?

every single (antagonistic) character in this film spends a significant amount of their screentime side-eyeing the clark/billy situation SO incredibly hard. at the fundraising party for the halfway house, the reporter guy whose name i refuse to remember runs into billy and comments "ah, so you're the one father clark has on display today, huh?" (and then proceeds to write an article trying to ruin clark's reputation by insinuating really bad shit about him based on his association with the criminals he tries to help)

mario, the brother of the guy who owns the produce market billy gets a job at thanks to clark, calls him "priest boy" at one point. correction: multiple times, actually! again the implication that there's something to their relationship that others consider strange/suspicious. mario also just generally spends all of his screentime making billy's life difficult - he's the one who accuses billy of stealing stuff which leads to him getting fired and kickstarts the downward spiral the plot goes into

billy theoretically has a heterosexual love interest (a woman whose name i'm not sure we are ever told in the film, but who i think is called either helen or ellen if i remember imdb correctly), who could in fact provide him with an alibi for when the theft at the produce market happened because he says he was with her at the time. and then he... refuses to give her name and address when they want to confirm it with her. you can read this as him being cagey and defensive bc he doesn't trust 'squares' and just wants to be left alone. OR you can interpret it as him having been with someone else that night (and if they question helen/ellen, they'll figure that out)

the finale is incredibly sad and upsetting, yes. but also billy is almost entirely naked, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily and clark is constantly VERY, VERY CLOSE to and touching him

"father? too tight" - again, sad and upsetting and i am screaming & crying about it. still very horny when taken out of context though

(on that note btw, it's genuinely insane how much this film invites us to look at billy's body. he's constantly exerting himself, sweaty or in various states of undress. "on display", as the reporter guy would say)

anyway, that's the gist of the 'crime = queer' reading. thanks for coming to my ted talk

[paperanddice]

Death worms may not have the sheer terror behind them that purple worms carry, but they are somewhat more common due to their smaller size. They don't need the same amount of food and hunting space as the much larger worms, and so multiple can live in a territory that would be stripped bare by a purple, making encountering one a more common possibility. And while they may be less dangerous, that doesn't mean people want to encounter them still. Wielding acid, lightning, and poison as weapons, they are hard to prepare for or counter. Bolts of lightning and a heavy spray of acid kill those who try to stay out of the worm's reach, and those who it catches succumb to its poison if they're not simply ripped apart by its vicious bites. Even its blood is dangerous, corroding metal that comes in contact with it, dulling blades and pitting hammers.

The decapus looks like a ten-armed octopus, except it has a full face with a fanged mouth on its side, rather than a beak at the center of the tentacles the way an octopus or squid does. They can be found mostly deep underground, but have been encountered in tangled forests on the surface. They are clumsy on the ground, but quite agile to climb and swing from elevated surfaces, and use this underground and from trees to spring vicious ambushes. They are actually quite intelligent, though rarely have interest in negotiating with other creatures. In fact, they seem to prefer devouring humanoids over other prey, gnomes in particular. They use their ability to replicate any sound they've heard before and clever illusions to lure prey in before dropping from above in attack, occasionally coordinating with other decapuses or natural hazards to better distract potential meals. Some decapuses will gain a sort of god complex though, and take violent control of whatever creatures they can force to obey them, using their followers to gather food, and eating them if they don't supply enough.

(I still misread the decapus every time I see it. It's supposed to be pronounced like "octopus" except with deca instead of octo, but I always read it like "decapitate")

Inspired by the Pathfinder 1e Bestiary 2. This post came out a week ago on my Patreon. If you want to get access to all my monster conversions early, as well as access to my premade adventures and other material I’m working on, consider backing me there!

Death Worm  Large 5th level troop [beast]  Initiative: +9 Bite +10 vs. AC - 28 damage. Natural Even Hit: The target also takes 10 ongoing poison damage. Miss: 14 damage. R: Lightning Jolt +10 vs. PD (one nearby enemy) - 20 lightning damage. Natural Even Hit: The death worm makes a second lightning jolt attack against a different enemy as a free action. C: Acid Spray +10 vs. PD (1d4+1 nearby enemies in a group) - 18 acid damage. Limited Use: 1/battle. [Special Trigger] Corrosive Blood +10 vs. PD - the target takes a cumulative -1 penalty to damage with the weapon it used to make the attack until the end of the battle. If this penalty reaches -5, the weapon is destroyed. Limited Use: 1/round, as an interrupt action when an enemy makes a melee weapon attack against the death worm and rolls a natural odd hit. Burrow. Resist Acid and Lightning 16+. AC 20 PD 19 MD 14 HP 166

Decapus  3rd level spoiler [aberration]  Initiative: +6 Swarming Tentacles +8 vs. AC - 6 damage. Natural Even Hit: The decapus can grab the target. Bite +8 vs. AC - 6 damage. Quick Use: 1/turn, as a quick action against an enemy the decapus has grabbed. R: Confusion Illusion +8 vs. MD (all nearby enemies) - The target is distracted (save ends). A distracted enemy takes a -1 penalty to AC and all defenses, and if it rolls a natural 1-5 on an attack roll or saving throw it becomes dazed until the end of its next turn. Wall Climber. AC 18 PD 16 MD 15 HP 44

[pathfinderunlocked]

Storm of Darkness - CR5 Elemental

A minion for darkness-themed bosses.

Artwork by YaensArt at DeviantArt.

This creature is designed to be a minion that appears alongside a boss fight against some kind of boss with darkness powers.  The boss might be a creature with a connection the Shadow Plane or the Negative Energy Plane, or something more unusual.  My recommendation is to have several of these appear during the fight, though exactly how many and how often is reasonable depends on how hard you want the fight to be.

This is a good minion for a boss that you’re worried players will just stand in place and full-attack to death, since a storm of darkness focuses on screwing up the battlefield and forcing players to move.  It’s extremely easy to deal with if encountered by itself, so it really only makes sense in the context of a boss fight.

It should move its full move speed and then attack on each of its turns, forcing players to chase it.  Although it has a fly speed, it’s most useful to the boss if it’s standing in places the players need to stand, turning as much of the ground as possible into comet AOEs.  Therefore, it should stay on the ground unless the players are flying.

Because this creature can choose to exclude up to 1 target from its Dark Comet ability, the boss doesn’t actually need resistance to electricity or negative energy damage.

Storm of Darkness - CR 5

What looks like nothing but a storm of dark energy floats in mid-air, swirling with shadowy essence.

XP 1,600 N Medium outsider (elemental, extraplanar) Init +2 Senses darkvision 60 ft.; Perception +2

DEFENSE

AC 18, touch 18, flat-footed 15 (+5 deflection, +2 Dex, +1 dodge) hp 57 (5d10+30) Fort +9, Ref +6, Will +5 Defensive Abilities phase movement, shadowy deflection DR 5/— Resist force 5 Immune electricity, elemental traits, negative energy

OFFENSE

Speed fly 40 ft. (perfect) Melee none Ranged dark shock +7 touch (1d4 negative energy plus 1d4 electricity plus dark shock, see text) Special Attacks dark comet

STATISTICS

Str 8, Dex 15, Con 21, Int 1, Wis 14, Cha 7 Base Atk +5, CMB +4; CMD 22 (cannot be tripped) Feats Dodge, Iron Will, Toughness Skills Escape Artist +17, Fly +22, Stealth +10; Racial Bonuses +8 Escape Artist, +8 Fly, +8 Stealth

SPECIAL ABILITIES

Dark Comet (Su) As a free action at the start of each of its turns, a storm of darkness can summon a comet-like blast of dark energy that slowly descends from the sky onto its current location.  After 1 round, the comet strikes the targeted location and explodes.

Any creature standing directly in the space where the comet strikes must succeed on a DC 17 Reflex save or take 4d6 negative energy damage and 4d6 electricity damage.  Creatures within 15 feet must succeed on a DC 13 Reflex save or take 2d6 negative energy damage and 2d6 electricity damage.  This negative energy does not heal undead; they instead are immune to it.  The save DC is Constitution-based, and the save DC for the area effect includes a -4 penalty.

A storm of darkness can choose to exclude up to 1 target from this effect.

Dark Shock (Su) As a standard action, a storm of darkness can make a ranged touch attack against an enemy within 80 feet, dealing 1d4 negative energy damage and 1d4 electricity damage on a successful hit.  This negative energy does not heal undead; they instead are immune to it.  On a critical hit, before the target takes damage, it temporarily loses any resistance or immunity it has to negative energy, and instead gains a vulnerability to negative energy damage.  This effect lasts for 1d4+1 rounds.

A storm of darkness does not provoke attacks of opportunity for making this ranged attack.

Phase Movement (Ex) When a storm of darkness moves using its fly speed, it does so only partially in its current plane, and partially on the border between planes.  Its movement is visible, but quick and distorted.  It does not provoke attacks of opportunity when moving in this way.

Shadowy Deflection (Ex) A storm of darkness gains a deflection bonus to AC equal to its hit dice.  This is already included in its statistics.

[todayisafridaynight]

NO YEAH IF ANYONE'S EQUIPPED TO KICK ASS IN THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE IT'S THE ARAKAWAS LMAO

Okay, in terms of Aoki's actual arrest, that would've been chiefly for (as the news ticker says) incitement to murder and, y'know, taking a police officer hostage/assaulting a police officer.

I believe incitement is weighed the same as perpetration. While the gang survived the explosion, Ishioda didn't (I think?), so it's more than "attempted" murder. And because of the number of people involved, it would probably be considered incitement to aggravated murder, which narrows the options to a life sentence or the death penalty (or, at the very least, marks them as strong possibilities).

While normally incitement is difficult to prove (as it would be for most every other instance he did it; Jo would never talk, Ishioda is Kind Of Dead, and for Arakawa Tendo was, yeah, acting of his own accord), they have some pretty solid evidence + probably a confession, given Aoki's intentions to turn himself in.

So in terms of the original question, there isn't really much else that needs to be considered, since it's not like it can get any worse than a life sentence no matter what else he confesses to… Aside from the death penalty, but if Jo managed to avoid one, Aoki probably could? Unless Jo's age was a consideration since realistically a life sentence would probably kill him in the same amount of time it'd take to carry out an execution.

But for the sake of completionism, Suzumori's murder could very much be argued as a case of self-defense. Being assaulted after his body had already been pushed to its limits absolutely could have resulted in his death, so it'd probably be down to possession charges. I can understand Arakawa and Jo being dead set on keeping him out of prison even with that being the case, though; prison lowers the average person's lifespan as-is, and it could very well have killed Masato.

After that it's mostly a laundry list of collusion and corruption charges I'm not crazy enough to unpack, but. Yeah. I think Aoki and Jo would've been in for life… Kinda makes me wonder how it all would've played out if Aoki'd had that change of heart and they spent those last years together and Jo inevitably died first...

essentially, for the Quick Byte version for the mate who initially asked: life sentence if not the death penalty

[cyanobotcodes]

Major Update to Cyanobot's Genes

Mod page, documentation: genes, xenotypes

So a late night whim to invent a few new xenotypes for my own use turned into a couple of months worth of project. I kept stumbling into things I wanted my new xenotypes to do, but couldn't find genes already out there that did exactly what I wanted, and going “well, I could just code that real quick…”

Cut to 7 new xenotypes and 46 new genes, plus one extra side mod.

Changelings/Fairies

Changelings are precocious. They have no parental care, so the baby changeling wanders off in search of other adults to take care of it. They are adorable, charming, and lazy. Everyone loves them, but they’ll eat you out of house and home. They also age slowly and stay children for what feels like forever.

Then they hit puberty.

“Fairies” (you know. what changelings grow up into.) are carnivorous, hulking, aggressive and extremely dangerous. They have toxic spittle and are both hard as nails and thick as two short planks.

New genes of interest:

Offspring/Metamorphosis : these genes self-generate from a template so that one of each is created for each xenotype loaded in the game. They let you create two-stage life cycles like this one, where the childhood xenotype metamorphoses into the adult form at puberty, and the adult has offspring of the child xenotype.

Afamilial : afamilial pawns are incapable of Childcare, and get none of the thoughts triggered by blood relations, including: grief, bonuses/penalties from happy/unhappy parents or children, relationship bonuses with blood relatives, etc.

Precocious : precocious babies enter the Child life stage from birth, meaning that they can move around, feed themselves, dress themselves, etc. They can’t fight or work until age 3.

Delightful : other pawns love Delightful pawns. While this is a “positive” gene, I confess I mostly made it while cackling about how it just makes Changeling children more awkward to get rid of.

Glimmer

Glimmers require Outland - Genetics for all their cosmetic genes, because I’m just in love with the range of gene graphics Outland provides. (There’s an optional version of the Glimmer without the graphics for use without Outland.)

Glimmers are descended from glitterworld utopists who revamped their own genomes to fit their own moral and aesthetic ideals. While they might be ideally suited to living in some utopian post-scarcity commune somewhere, they are fish out of water on a rough and untamed frontier.

Upsides: friendly, cheerful, kind, empathetic, smart, and long-lived. You know, things nice people might want to be.

Downsides: clumsy, herbivorous, and really, really upset by violence.

They are not gonna have a good time on the Rim, poor dears.

Psycrux/Thrall

Depends on VRE - Archon for the innate psylink and a bunch of other genes. I should probably separate them out, but it feels a lot like reinventing the wheel, and frankly by that point I just wanted to get the damn thing published…

Psycrux are horrible, super-potent, slave-taking psycasters who parasitise the minds of others to fuel their psycasts. 

Thralls are their victims, implanted with a xenotype that suppresses their independence and makes them easier to control as slaves or prisoners, while reducing their need to sleep and eliminating the need for recreation so that they can work long hours. They are however rendered slow and stupid, so their work isn’t necessarily great.

New genes of interest:

Psyphon : drain the psyfocus or raw consciousness of others to regain psyfocus. Can cause permanent brain damage or death, but if the psyphon is careful to only sip from the minds of others, it is possible to avoid permanent side-effects.

Implant Xenotype : Allows a pawn to implant others with a xenotype other than their own. Like the Metamorphosis/Offspring genes, one gene is generated for each loaded xenotype.

Domineering (Ideology only) : increased suppression power and arrest chance

Docile (Ideology only) : fewer prison breaks, less suppression required, more easily converted to another ideoligion

Shulk

Shulks are super-weird, nearly bestial xenohumans designed specifically for colonising deep subterranean biomes. Absolutely inspired by me playing a lot of Biomes! Caverns. 

Shulks are solitary, mute, and highly light sensitive, but they are specialised for survival in resource-scarce environments. Quintessentially they are survivors.

Their extremely high metabolic efficiency means they don’t need a lot of food. Strong Stomach and Robust Digestion allow them to eat pretty much anything, raw, while claws and fangs give them a chance of hunting for their food without access to weapons. Expansive Stomach allows them to glut on food while they have access to it and then digest slowly.

Tough Skin, Strong Immunity, and Superclotting protect them against a harsh environment where they may not receive medical attention. Their children grow up fast.

Most of the work for these guys went into their big ol’ leathery tails, which have no mechanical benefit whatsoever. The tails are lightly animated, swapping periodically between a handful of different poses, which required really getting my teeth into the graphics code.

New genes of note:

Expansive Stomach : eat up to 5x as much food and digest slowly

Light Sensitivity : while inspired by the similar gene in VRE - Lycanthrope, I wrote my own version because I wanted it to be slightly more complicated. Bright light causes a larger penalty than dim light, and the light penalty is calculated while on caravans from the biome and the time of day.

Darkling (Anomaly only) : immune to Unnatural Darkness. I wanted Shulks to be able to live entirely without light, which poses a few problems with some of the Anomaly content…

Wist

Wists were engineered by a corporate interest to serve as specialist battlefield medics. They’re hemogen-powered bloodfeeders, but with a very different vibe to (and far fewer superpowers than) sanguophages.

Their main powers, in addition to medical aptitude, are Coagulate and a new bite laden with pharmaceutical venom that fights infection and also serves as a battlefield booster, numbing pain and boosting mood to prevent awkwardly timed mental breaks. It’s also highly addictive. You wouldn’t want people deciding they don’t need their company medic after all, now would you.

Wists are very sleepy (after all, you only need their services some of the time), but have an Endostimulant Burst ability that wakes them up when needed. All three primary abilities are hemogen powered -- but what’s more abundant in the middle of a battle than the blood of your enemies?

They’re also tiny and purple, because I don’t know. Brand image?

New genes of note:

Endostimulant Burst : consumes hemogen, self-only, immediately reduces Rest need, buff that temporarily boosts consciousness and reduces Rest fall rate

Wist Venom Bite : delivers a drug that boosts Immunity gain, reduces Pain, and boosts mood. Highly addictive.

[mhaynoot]

ch182

oh cheongryeo my little psychopath you really are a psycho

he's so red flag red flag im so in love alslkd i didnt expect a whole ass kidnapping scene but like damn thats good pay off considering the sprinkling of foreshadowing, building tension and bait with the fake de-escalating "im sorry" part

listen i like my ships as messy as possible. the more they bring out the worst in each other to the point it loops back into actually making them better is so Peak Ship Dynamic

warning: my opinions and some personal critiques on dod here

i think im gonna take a break on reading this though and just wait for manhwa updates instead because the novel is very ... slow? or maybe i should say its a bit too light hearted for me i dunno

i think it would have been a little more interesting if the other members of testar were also part of some other system or if there was just a lot more drama in genera. i dont know but considering what i know of irl kpop and the really messy fights that happened, the internal and interpersonal character conflicts here are just the slightest bit too tame for me personally and, while that isn't necessarily bad thing, its just not to my drama loving taste. also the external conflicts aren't all that spicy either to act as a counterbalance.

well tbh, i was already very worried when i saw the survival show format and the first debut or die mission because thats a very short term conflict. and the back to back missions, format and tension of the survival show is incredibly good for creating escalating high stakes and, combined with the death penalty, it has a natural development for consistently high tension and lots of potential drama and conflicts. and the novel hit those points very well. and while i think they definitely could have potentially made this arc a little longer and explore different aspects, it does end as a satisfactory first arc. but now there's the rest of the 600 chapter story which will have to match that level of tension. and so far i dont think it really has? at least until cheongryeo LMAO which is why i love him so much!! he makes things interesting and the novel isnt afriad to make him villainous and start shit up and do actual things that really fucks up moondae and has like some future consequences like oh no whats gonna happen to their relationship, whatll they do in the future when they meet, whats happening to the other members and their relo with this sunbae who they admired

i just feel the novel is really fluffy and light hearted for a death scenario concept. and even if it didn't want external conflicts to be too heavy, a way to keep the stakes might have been to shift focus onto interpersonal conflicts instead. like i really thought they'd continue to do that when the keun seijin and bae seijin arc happened. and then the chungwon arc too! but it feels like its been twenty small online conflicts in a row between them. i just want stuff with like actual group breaking, and potentially friendship destroying conflicts that they have to work through.

yes the testar members are wholesome and nice and they love moondae and...? that's about it right now for the last some chapters now. they dont have arguments, they dont even really properly talk to each other. i know moondae treats it like coworkers and professionalism but maybe bring up more of the other members perspectives. like i know we're in moondae's pov but like considering the consistent pov shifts, it wouldn't be too bad to at least make it so that we can flesh out the other members and their relationships with each other too?

but like what do i know?

maybe i should've seen moondae's easy rise to platnium and quick skill up as an indicator that this novel isn't really focused on drama and breaking the kneecaps of its mc like what i prefer. i dunno i just thought that was a bait or smth and things escalate hard later or smth HAHAH yeah i guess when i saw the death failure, i jumped to conclusions and thought this novel would be a really gritty one that might touch on and explore the messed up behind the scenes of kpop

[gertlushgaming]

Aliens: Dark Descent Review (Steam)

For this Aliens: Dark Descent Review, where we drop into the gripping journey of Aliens: Dark Descent, a squad-based, single-player action game in the iconic Alien franchise. Lead your soldiers in real-time to stop a new and terrifying kind of Xenomorph outbreak on Planet Lethe.

Aliens: Dark Descent Review Pros:

- Decent graphics. - 55.26GB Download size. - Steam Achievements. - Graphics settings - resolution, display mode, AMD Fidelity FX super-resolution, Resolution scale, v-sync, gamma, and color vision. Graphics preset including custom for - anti-aliasing, texture, effects, post-processing, geometry, shadow, foliage, and shading. - Full controller support. - 3 save slots. - Action shooter gameplay. - Gameplay settings - how pause works, continuous camera rotation, vibration, movement speed slider, camera zoom speed slider, Invert axis, dynamic tutorial, when to show enemy and player health bars, and display mini-map in motion tracker. - Difficulty settings - preset (story/medium/hard/nightmare/custom), enemy health points, enemy detection time, aggressiveness gain delay, death clock campaign days, and how the save system works (permissive and no one can hear them scream). - The Codex menu keeps all tutorials and helps text in one place. - You get the obligatory this game is hard to text pop-up when starting a new game. - Excellent soundtrack. - Cutscenes are a mix of FMV and in-game. - You can skip the cutscenes. - A new unique story within the Aliens universe. - When in a level you get the main missions to further the story and then secondary optional missions for bonus rewards and lore. - Fog of war is in play where the world shows itself as you travel/explore. - The game plays like an RTS in that you move around by selecting it with a cursor and your characters follow the line. - Brilliant voice work throughout. - Decent loading times. - The camera control is full 360 degrees but you can also zoom in and out. - Handy icons on the screen to help with objectives and Interactive parts. - The torch helps illuminate in front of you but holding the button down for it allows you to see more in one area and highlight anything Interactive. - Dripping in the atmosphere from the music to the game flow but especially the shadows. - Doors can be welded shut if you have the right tools to do so. - Enemy detection works as in there is a delay and for anyone near detection, the movement line will go from yellow to red, and once fully red you are detected. - Green grids coming off the movement line show cover that can help avoid detection. (you can crouch when in cover) - Your squad moves as one unit, and actions within it like interactions are assigned to a random squad member to carry out. - The motion tracker works the same way as I'm the film, it will show movement within a 60-meter radius by white dots. It makes iconic noises and pulses. - Having the motion detector as part of the mini-map is a stroke of genius making it really easy and quick to use. - Marines in your squad shoot automatically when detected and can even shoot when walking, just not while running. - Command points are regained over time and you spend them on abilities like grenades or suppressive fire etc. - Mission completion percentages show on loading screens. - Getting injured and losing health is one thing but if say your leg gets wounded, then the whole squad gets a movement penalty. - When activating skills like grenades and shotguns you can set the game to pause or go into slow-mo. (can be changed whenever) - Full dismemberment is possible and you get a text pop-up to tell you. - USS Otago is the crash ship that you are now using as a base. Within the ship you do your upgrades, fix the ship up, and handle deaths and medical needs. - The ship stuff is like the Headquarters in X Com where you do all your behind-the-scenes stuff. - The workshop is where you go to research and build new weapons. - All the classic and now legendary sound effects are in the game from Alien screams to the pulse rifle noises. - The game breaks you in overtime into the mechanics and unlocks. - Combat is broken up in such a way that you can play how you want whether it be more of a shooter or you can go do the tactics route. - The command deck is where you choose your mission, build the team of marines and change their load outs, and take any supplies like medkits and tools for sealing doors, etc. - A squad is made up of four marines. - Loot boxes can be found within the game as can looting dead people. - When you hack into other places you can use supply points to have all items and locations revealed immediately. - When a squad member is doing something (hacking/looting etc) you can still move the rest of the team around without affecting them and they will then join afterward. - The lighting works really well and adds a lot to the immersion and atmosphere. - The story tells it as if they are learning about the Aliens for the first time. - Resting lowers the squad's stress level and can be done by sealing all doors in a room. - Mark an Alien to have concentrated fire on it. - If you stay in a room too long or stay in an ambush circle too long then you will get attacked. - If you continue to stay in an area after stopping the ambush attack then you can trigger it again and this time the Aliens will be stronger and then again and again. - You can also increase the Alien threat by just killing them over and over. - Noise, explosions, and Gunfire can all attribute to Aliens finding you. - Retribution is a gauge that fills up as you kill Aliens and once full you can trigger it causing all marines to be stronger and better for a short time. - The ARC vehicle can be called in and this lets you quit the mission, put survivors in it, and also use the fast travel around the location service. - Loacatiojsnare huge and with that you can explore at your heart's content. - Many secrets and Collectibles to find. - At the end of a mission your team gets exp, you get a stats page, all supplies brought back get added and you have an overall breakdown. - When in Otago you have to at some point advance the game via the next-day command. - Multiple choice encounters in between days passing. Green and red text act as a warning as to what the outcome can be. - Anything from building upgrades, crafting weapons, and healing soldiers are timed by in-game days. You can at times assign people to bays to speed up the number of days. - Planet infestations grow every day and fill a gauge showing how much harder the planet is to navigate etc. - Once you have visited a location, any return visits allow you to choose where your team deploys. - Such a great genre to fit the universe. - The gameplay has a bit of everything. - You don't get bogged down in politics and base building as it's very streamlined. - I like how you can go in and do what you want regardless of the mission, it's handy when it all goes wrong or you find a load of supplies and want to bank them. - Drops some lines and sayings from the film. - Hack into cameras and use them to survey the land. - Your squad members can actually get grabbed so you have to act fast or you lose them. - How the game plays out is you have a huge list of objectives both main and side, you can then go through them how you want and leave and return when you want. Your only enemy with this is the infestation level. - When a big event is about to happen, you get a pop-up warning to say all about healing and getting ready. - Marines level up and you pick one of three random upgrades, sometimes the marine can have a class assigned to them. - As you unlock new abilities it makes more of the area open to you if you want to explore more than it is. - Constant feeling of being chased, watched, and under huge time pressure. - I just love how over time the planet becomes more and more infested making it harder but also forcing you to punch through and prioritize runs. - When on the ship you get helpful text prompts showing if you can use a medic or build a new weapon etc. - Marines can get all sorts of conditions that affect them in battle like increased stress around fire or every combat encounter decreases stress. - Big boss encounters. - Nerve shredding set pieces. - Cool cutscenes before a big fight or introducing a new enemy type. Aliens: Dark Descent Review Cons: - Cannot rebind controls. - Slight stuttering as the game transitions from cutscenes to gameplay. - No way to change the text size of menus and in-game text. - Slow starter. - Checkpoints are far apart and you never really know when you trigger one, this is a big deal as you use these when respawning. - Camera control can get very awkward especially if you need to sneak or stealth around, the camera just doesn't fit the purpose. - No way to zoom in and out of the mini-map. - Not always sure when it saved or if it saves when you close the game. - A lot of the graphic details pop in and out. - Again we have to sit through the opening parts where the team learns about Aliens again. - Resting always triggers the same cutscenes. - Cannot skip the fast travel animations. - So much to take in. - The weakest part of the game is the camera. - A mission complete pop-up isn't a checkpoint and in boss encounters this is frustratingly bad as you have to replay so much of the fight or set piece. Related Post: Katana-Ra: Shinobi Rising Preview (Steam) Aliens: Dark Descent: Official website. Developer: Tindalos Interactive Publisher: Focus Entertainment Store Links - Steam Read the full article

[simpliao]

it's over, isn't it? ; (irl) schlatt x reader

summary : an occasion for celebration ! a year and a half after the initial incident, y/n's murderer has finally been charged and sent away for their crimes. with trials ended and justice served, it still hadn't filled the gaping void left in her absence.

info : murder (being murdered), angst, swearing, brief implied suicidal thoughts, light drug usage (alcohol and cigarettes), she/her reader that is described as a woman, and based off of the song by bruno mars (talking to the moon) and the one by steven universe (same title as this one shot).

a/n : i've been watching a lot of true crime recently, and it's been mentioned that it always tends to be about the murderer than the actual victim. I thought about how terrible it was to lose someone in that way and just kinda turned it into a oneshot. also quick announcement to say thank you so much for ten followers !

Closure, justice, and his darling: those were the three things Schlatt wanted since the beginning. Today would be the day people figured he'd get what he'd wanted, minus getting Y/n back. Him and the other families of the bastard's victims stood their ground, gave their testimonies and said their peace. He was there since the beginning, showing up everyday and being as involved as he possibly could. Today was the day he'd been sentenced, and yet it left the brunette dissatisfied. The fucker evaded the death penalty. Taking a plea bargain, and only getting life without the possibility of parole.

The New Yorker was about to tear out his own hair, even giving a chaste interview after leaving to the media vehemently calling for the death of the one who took it all away from him. Twitter had essentially clipped that and sent it everywhere, being that him and Y/n were public figures, the case was highly popularized and viewed from everywhere. Now that it was over, it didn't feel like it. No, not when her name still trended on Twitter and that suffocating vacant space in his heart and soul still only seemed to grow.

Arriving home later that evening, what used to feel like home, he lazily kicked off his shoes and kept his gaze down. Since that night, the night his life went to hell, he refused to put away her things from their once shared apartment. And now it made for reminders of what was lost, but he wouldn't dare let them be stored away in a storage unit to be forgotten; he absolutely loathed the idea to let her be forgotten. He let himself turn into a mess, he'd stopped taking care of himself and survived off instant noodles and alcohol. All while keeping fresh ingredients and produce that he never used stocked in the fridge and cupboards. Y/n was the one who loved to cook, and he made sure to go out to the grocery store every week to replenish the food he let rot. It was a cope, a part of him pretending like she was just away for a while, out to LA or Europe to see friends, she'd come home any day now and make anything for the pair to enjoy. To eat as they sat on the balcony, laugh and joked around as she told him about her trip and how much she wished he came with her. He yearned for one last chance to share one of her home cooked meals under the light of midnight stars.

That day would never come, he knew this. And yet every week he still played this fantasy of going to the Whole Foods and pretending like everything was okay. He'd even had to give up Jambo while he dealt with this, which had been for almost about a year now, to friends he knew would take good care of him. He'd visit but the poor, confused cat would always snuggle up and look around for his other owner: his mom, unknowing of the fate that fell upon her. He shrugged off the blazer, a part of one of many suits he'd wear to the courthouse, unbuttoning the tops of the buttons of his shirt as he was quick to fetch what he needed: cigarettes and whatever cheap beer he kept off hand. He briefly met the gaze of cleaned dishes that were set to dry beside the sink so long ago, the night she was supposed to come home. While waiting anxiously he had washed the dishes and guessed she'd been coming home from their rented out office overworked and tired; the last thing he wanted was to stress her out more. But she never came home, and he never put up those cleaned dishes.

Retreating to the balcony, bistro styled furniture awaited him. Two chairs and a table, where they'd share romantic dinners and he'd watch her eyes twinkle under the blanket of stars. That second chair now cold and empty, pushed into the table and just like him, waiting for her to come. He never touched it, just like most (if not close to all) things in the apartment. She had moved those things into place, her touch still lingered on these items and he'd do his damnest to preserve it. Like he was still trying to keep a part of her alive.

He opened up the can, setting it on the table as he took the minute to alight the end of the cigarette; a habit he always had but had sharply taken over his life when he find no other way to cope without her. He knew she hated seeing it, but what else was he supposed to do when her touch and embrace couldn't calm him down anymore? Taking one long drag, and returning to pick back up the cheap beverage, he sat, waiting patiently for the moment the flurry of warm colours slipped beyond the horizon and the moon had come up in the sky. And when it did it was like a pressure lifting from his chest.

"They caught him." He began, speaking whist grey smoke slipped past his plump lips. "...But not good enough. They took a plea deal and the bastard isn't even facing death, just boredom." The scoff that came out of him was imbued with fiery abhor, disgust for the man that from what evidence showed, made his lover cry and feel unimaginable fear, pain and suffering. Life behind bars wasn't enough, no, he wanted that fucker to feel the same way he made all his other victims feel. He wanted him afraid and anxious as he would know the exact date and time of his death; forcing him to live out the rest of his pathetic life with a countdown always in the forefront of his mind. He got away with it in Schlatt's mind.

With a swig that more seemed like a chug, he didn't even process the taste of the beer; he just wanted some kind of buzz to lessen the pain. "...He gets away with it, while me and the other families have the rest of our lives to process the loss. If only they'd let me go in there and let me kill him myself." Somber eyes fixated upon the orb hung in dark skies, holding onto hope as to who resigned there. The woman who adored its beauty and gentle light every night, that's who he knew he was looking at. "You'd hate that though, and I know you would sweetheart. You'd try and defuse my anger, run those slender fingers through my hair knowing just how addicted I was– am to your touch."

"But now what? It should be over, the case is done, people are already beginning to forget... But what is justice if you can't be here beside me?" He questioned out to the heavens, always met with painful silence in return. His eyes always managed to well up, another painful drag taken to numb the pain; it never fully did. "I just hope to whatever god out there that you're finally okay. You've always talked about wanting a better view, I guess now that you're amongst the clouds you've gotten the beat seat in the house." A bitter grin and laugh left his throat, drowning out his pain with whatever remained of the can and subsequently tossing it over the ledge into the city without a second thought. "It won't hit anybody, and if it does they'll be fine toots." He assured her knowing how she'd react, undoubtedly would scold him for his carelessness.

"Ted's been up my ass too, you remember when he came to visit us a few weeks ago? He keeps telling me I should seek counselling, or therapy or whatever... He doesn't get it, I don't want to talk to anyone else. I only want to talk to you darling." A pang crushed his heart, you know he's right Schlatt, you have to move on, would be her exact words. A gush of wind that had his silk blouse rustle did manage to make him softly chuckle, she loved going on about how hot she thought he was in a suit. Maybe it was his mind still in this cope, or maybe it was her way of sending the message that she was still here. He knew she was right and one day he'd have to pack away her things and kiss her goodbye for the final time, but today wasn't that day yet.

"I get the message sweet cheeks, give me some more time. It's your fault for being so damn unforgettable." He uttered, acting as if these kinds of instances were cosmic signals she was sending. He knew if she was still out there it's what she would have done, she never really did stop worrying about him. "I'll get some flowers for you grave, how's about that? The pretty ones you've always wanted to have at home but neither of us were exactly green thumbs." He smiled through bittersweet memories, if he could go back, if only he could go back, he'd make sure he'd find her sooner, he'd make every moment of their fleeting time together even happier. He'd make sure she wouldn't go out to the office that day to stream.

...

"...I should get some sleep, can you believe I woke up at six this morning to get ready for court? I'll keep the window open, maybe you'll show up as some kind of ghost thing and everything can be alright again." He knew sooner or later this façade would have to fall, and that settling of dread for what was yet to come overcame. He had to keep living for her sake, as much as he wanted to throw himself off and join her if she was even still out there. He never wanted to upset her anymore than he is now. But he knew from the depths of his heart he would, he'd been babbling so long to her that he's been watching the moon slowly set and tangy oranges make themselves known from the distance.

He turned around to return back inside, and yet still he hesitated after having one foot through the door. And even though it was practically early morning he still spoke a chaste goodbye, "goodnight darling, I'll speak to you again tomorrow." It was like his heart tore out of him when he could see his beloved moon, his beloved Y/n, slip behind the silhouettes of skyscrapers and disappear again. He'd grown such an attachment it was like he lost her again.

To everyone else this book was over, the chapter read and the 'the end' already spoken out and forgotten. To Schlatt he never left that night of misery, of worry and panic when she'd first gone missing. He'd never left that phone call where police informed him that they'd discovered a body. And he sure as hell will never move past the instant he learned the gruesome details of her death, a fate she never deserved. But it all was supposed to be over now, she was gone and her perpetrator (with a name he refused to remember as to not give him that satisfaction) served justice and would pay for his crimes.

It was over, and yet, he couldn't bring himself to move on.

[jimblejamblewritings]

snakes & bets | part 7.

Summary: Social outcast suddenly makes friends? And those friends are Hogwarts’ most notorious pranksters? Despite being entirely suspicious, Y/N doesn’t question any motives. The world can’t possibly come crashing down around her…

Warnings: This whole story is angsty, hurt/comfort, smut, will end in fluff but goes through all the other stuff first.

Pairing: Marauders x black!reader, eventual Sirius Black x black!reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

Professor McGonagall was seriously contemplating telling students that they could no longer knock on her door. Whoever it was kept knocking incessantly, refusing to go away. She didn’t want to hear anymore questions about if Voldemort’s reign was over. The Daily Prophet had dropped off the papers earlier that morning. It was all over the front page. Young upstart Auror, Alastor Moody, helped capture Voldemort and bring him to the Ministry of Magic.

McGonagall didn’t want to entertain her students who were wondering if this was truly the end. She didn’t want to speculate sentences about You-Know-Who. Death penalty or forever in Azkaban, she didn’t care and would rather enjoy her free time in peace. The old woman finally gave in and got up to open the door. She raised an eyebrow at seeing Sirius at her door.

“She hates me.”

McGonagall sighed. “She doesn’t hate you, she’s afraid you’re making a joke of her again. Quite frankly, I can’t blame her for thinking such a thing.”

“I’m not. I swear, I’m not. I love her.”

“Mr. Bla—”

“I mean it.”

“Sirius,” McGonagall said, quickly. “I know. I’ve seen a black dog following her around.”

“Professor, please help me.”

McGonagall found herself taking tea with two students twice a week. She had her normal tea with you. Then on a different day, she would Sirius and maybe one of the other marauders as they came up with a plan. You actively ignored them now. They couldn’t even give you a wave. Remus tried to thank you for the wolfsbane potion but you said that you weren’t interested in talking to him before he could even get out a word.

Sirius even waited half a day in the bathroom that Myrtle usually stayed in, hoping that you would come in. You never showed that day. He ended up talking to your aunt who had a few choice words for him. Myrtle told him the same thing that McGonagall did: Don’t be surprised if you’re too late.

Sirius was well aware of the fact that he might have missed his chance with you. But he couldn’t stop trying. Not until he said everything that he had to say. If you didn’t want him afterwards then he would leave you alone. But he had to tell you how he felt and he had to do it correctly. Sirius stopped listening to other people. Every idea failed and you didn’t like talking to anyone. He wasn’t using the girls, or his friends, or even McGonagall. He was just going to do it his way.

“Ow, fuck.” Sirius sucked on his fingers.

This was the fourth time he had pricked himself with the needle. You made embroidery look so easy but it took him just an hour alone to get the hoop correctly on the green sweatshirt that he bought. He tried to crochet you a skirt at first because it seemed the easiest. However, the pile of yarn that was shoved under his bed quickly proved him wrong. He looked up when the door to his dorm opened.

“Wormtail, does this look alright?”

“Decent.”

“Decent?”

“It’s not as good as (Y/N)’s if that’s what you’re asking. It looks fine, Pads.”

Sirius examined his work in the embroidery hoop. He nodded to himself. It was decent. However, it wasn’t quick. He thought he would be done before the end of February and before another Moony Night. Maybe if he had just done your name and a rabbit in the silver thread, he might have been done early. But, Sirius wanted to add little flowers on the sleeves and around the collar. He tried to mimic the style that you embroidered most of your clothes in. Finally, a few days into March, Sirius held up the sweatshirt in satisfaction.

“Prongs, I need your help.”

Remus and Peter insisted on taking a picture after James managed to get Sirius in his sweatshirt that you made for him. It took a while to get his front paws through the sleeves. James scratched behind his friend’s ear.

“Don’t you look adorable.”

Sirius growled, not that the other three cared. He picked up his gift in his mouth and started to leave, looking back at Remus when he realized that he needed one of them to open the door for him. With one more howl of laughter, his friends let him leave.

The weather was no longer freezing so you were outside underneath your favorite tree. The gnomes were back. They were laying flowers in your hair and trading their old hats for new ones. They were also swiping bread from your basket but that was to be expected. The last of the gnomes put on their new hat and ran off.

You looked over to see if they left any bread in your basket so you could have a piece. As your head turned to the side, you saw a large black dog in a red sweatshirt bounding over to you with something in its mouth. Shaking your head, you got up to leave before Sirius could reach you.

He ran faster. Thanks to the whole four legs being faster than one thing, Sirius overtook your pace and stopped in front of you. He quickly turned back into human form, dropping the sweatshirt from his mouth before he got drool on it.

“(Y/N).”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you said as you began to turn around to leave.

“Please! One talk. One conversation.”  

“Please just leave me alone, Sirius. I’ve already cried my eyes out over you in the past, I’m not doing it again. And I don’t want to be the punchline anymore. It wasn’t funny the first time and it isn’t funny now.”

“It’s not a joke.” Sirius grabbed your hand. “That list was worse than a bad prank, I know that.”

“Yeah, it was. I just wanted friends.”

He could hear the desperation in your voice.

“I know, Bunny, I know. I’m sorry, I’m genuinely sorry. We should have never done that to you.”

“Apology acknowledged.”

Sirius gave you a smile. He started unfolding the sweatshirt. “I got th—”

“Sirius.”

“Yes?” He stopped what he was doing.

“I acknowledge your apology, that’s it. I don’t accept it.”

The green fabric dropped from his hand. “What?”

“I don’t know if you’re lying to me. I meant what I said, you all aren’t allowed to make a joke out of me anymore. I’m done being a punchline.”

“(Y/N)—”

“I’ll ask the professors about ending detention, I know that all of you are cleaning the school. Thanks again for the apology, I appreciate it. That was all I wanted from at least one person.”

You left Sirius dumbfounded as he watched you walk away. This couldn’t be it. He couldn’t lose you like this. Sirius gave out a dry laugh as he picked up the sweatshirt. He never even had you to begin with. But still. He didn’t want it to end like this. The other marauders asked him about it as they sat down in the Transfiguration classroom— all the sixth and seventh years had once again been called to the room. The raven-haired boy shook his head.

“It was a failure. I don’t think she believes me.”

“You can’t blame her,” Remus reasoned.

“I know. I just… I can come up with every gift, gesture, apology in the world but I don’t know how I can make her believe me.”

“Maybe you have to let her go?”

“No, I can’t.”

“Pads—”

“Moony,” James cut in. “How long did I chase after Lily? Let him have this, just a little longer.”

“Okay.” He sat back.

The rest of the students slowly piled in. Sirius still looked for you. As the professors came in, he knew that you wouldn’t be there. None of the professors seemed to be too pleased at telling the students that they were considering ending detention. As far as they were concerned, none of them had truly learned respect. They didn’t care what you told them.

If the professors had their way, the students would be cleaning until the school year ended. They didn’t feel comfortable just letting the students off the hook. Every sixth and seventh year’s eyes went wide as McGonagall presented them the ultimatum.

“You can clean in detention for the rest of the year or write to your parents about your actions. And we will be overseeing each letter before you send them. You must all remember that actions have consequences.”

James searched his school bag for a self-writing quill and some parchment. “Already told them, easiest choice ever.”

Most students were still trying to process what was just presented to them. Surely, their parents probably had scores of consequences waiting for them. Most of them weren’t sure. A lot decided that they would revisit the idea later and, for now, would rather continue with the detention. Remus and Peter had already told the Potters, telling their parents was significantly easier.

“What are you doing, Padfoot?” Peter asked.

Sirius scoffed. “I’m not telling them over a damn letter.”

“You’re going to keep cleaning?”

“No. I need to talk to Minnie, don’t bother waiting for me after class.”

Remus, James, and Peter didn’t listen. They grabbed lunch, saving some for Sirius, and waited outside McGonagall’s door until their friend came out. Sirius was holding several letters and papers in his hands when he left. He had a lot of things to give to a lot of owls. The boys followed him to the owlery.  

“Oh, Prongs, I’m missing your game next weekend. It was the only time the Professor said I could go.”

“Okay, but go where?”

“I have a dinner party to attend.”

“What?”

Sirius explained a bit more as he gave the first letter to his owl. The marauders praised Padfoot on his idea. It was actually a step up from waltzing alone. Regulus approached his brother like he was insane when he saw him in the corridor the next day. He held up his invitation.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? They’re going to eat you alive, Siri.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“I’m not joking.”

“I know. You’re coming right?”

Regulus scoffed. “Of course, I’m not letting you die alone. They’re already pissed they chose the wrong side of the war.”

“They should be glad they aren’t being put on trial.”

Both Black brothers laughed. Regulus tucked the invitation back in his pocket. He was about to make another joke when you passed by. You were reading an invitation that your owl delivered. It wasn’t an invitation for you but your parents. They had been invited to something and were requesting that you come as well. It was less of a request and more of a command considering they told you that they already discussed getting you out of class with Slughorn.

You already knew that you were getting no say in this. That was fine. It had been a minute since you had to perform the duties of old pureblood families. It was probably because of Voldemort’s downfall. So this was either a dinner party to celebrate or it was a party where the families that were on the wrong side tried to rebuild their social status and worm their way back into high society. Every family had bad people. You didn’t think a dinner to try and join the right side again was necessary. They could just denounce their views publicly.

But purebloods had traditions and this was one of them. So you met your parents outside the gates of Hogwarts late Friday night. The dinner was on Saturday but you had to get a dress. Well, you had to pick up a dress. The hosts insisted on buying something for you. You were getting more suspicious by the minute when your parents wouldn’t say anything. They still wouldn’t offer details even when your grandparents came over or your mother’s eldest siblings— they were a brother-sister twin pair.

This seemed like more than a dinner party. You were starting to feel like this was going to be a sit-down dinner between two families, not a party with several. The thought made your upper lip curl. You only relaxed when your uncle brought his children. This must have been for Mary. Pureblood families and their traditions. Mary must have gotten into a serious relationship.

You still rolled your eyes. Only purebloods would go all out for a simple boyfriend or girlfriend. This dinner party was like the pre-promise to the promise to a potential engagement. It was extravagant for no reason.

You piled into the carriage with Mary and your other cousins— the parents and grandparents were in the one up front. The carriages sped through the streets of London. So the family lived close by? Usually, you would need to apparate somewhere or take brooms to a station and then get in the thestral-drawn carriages. You all exited the vehicles and stood on the steps of some building. Your mother put her hand on your father’s chest as he pressed the bricks on the building.

“Don’t be so nervous, honey, you’ve done these things a million times.”

“Well, Walburga and Orion apologized for their comments but I still feel like they look down on me.”

“Well, they would prefer purebloods to stay pure and I don’t think that will change but I think they’re trying on their more extreme actions. They’ve even invited Andromeda and her husband. They just had a baby, you know?”

Your ears perked up. “I’m sorry, did you say Walburga and Orion? Walburga and Orion Black?”

Your grandfather chuckled. “Still playing coy. This is why you’re my favorite grandchild.”

You were ready to run down the steps, manners be damned, when the building started to move. A house elf opened the door that suddenly appeared with a number twelve on it. He ushered everyone inside and then escorted you from the corridor into a sitting parlor with dark green walls. This house was full of Slytherin pride to say the least.

The Black family— technically Tonks since Andromeda and her husband were there too— were already waiting and talking. They were dressed just as fancy as your family was. Andromeda and Ted stuck to speaking with Sirius. Walburga was fawning over the baby. Orion took the first step by greeting your father after greeting your grandparents and mother.

The two men were awkward with each other. It was clear that getting over blood purity was difficult but something that they were actually trying to do. Sirius stood up from the couch when he saw you. You had never seen him so dressed up— his hair was actually gelled back instead of being long and free.

“You look beautiful,” he commented when he got in front of you.

“Thank you,” you said in the most curt voice possible.

Walburga chuckled. “Sirius never showed us a picture of you so we had to go off of his descriptions for a gown. See, Orion, I still have style.”

The adults laughed at the joke that you, the Black Brothers, and your cousins didn’t think was all that funny. Their house elf informed you all that dinner was ready. Like you expected, you were sat right next to Sirius. This stupid dinner was for you and not Mary. You wondered why your parents kept it a secret? It wasn’t like they knew that you weren’t on speaking terms with everyone at school and that included Sirius. You suspected the invitation said to do so for whatever reason.

Dinner was full of small talk. The Zabinis and Blacks knew of each other but were never really in the same circles. Since both families had roots that were from elsewhere, when they got to England they had focused on establishing connections with UK wizarding families. They just never got around to becoming familiar with each other. You tried to avoid immediate discussion with Sirius and Regulus as much as possible. When dessert was brought out, Sirius stood up.

“First, thank you all for being here. I know we normally do these dinners a bit differently but this had to be done,” he started, nervously.

“We could all use a good shake up in tradition,” your grandfather added. The others laughed and Sirius just chuckled nervously.

“Right. Well, I would love for this to be one of those traditional dinners but it’s not. This is an apology dinner. I did something awful at the beginning of the school year.”

He turned to your parents. “And I would like to formally apologize for having hurt your daughter.”

Sirius brought out the parchment list. His parents’ face grew redder with anger as he explained everything. Your family was a range of anger, confusion, pity, and more. You went back and forth between watching Sirius, his family, and yours. You actually continued to look at him as he met your eyes.

“We weren’t kind to you and I should’ve said something the moment I started liking you. No, I should’ve said something before the list was even finished. I can’t take that back and that’s something I’m going to always regret. I will always be sorry for treating you how we did, (Y/N). Everything I said when I asked you to the Yule Ball was real. I meant it. I swear you aren’t a joke or a stupid punchline. Not to me.”

“Siri—”

“Regulus,” Orion cut you off. “Did you know about any of this?”

He hung his head down. “Everything he said was true. The, uh, the whole school doesn’t talk to (Y/N).”

Walburga’s jaw ticked. “Kreacher! Please show (Y/N) the room she’s staying in for the night.”

“Of course, Mistress Black.”

The little house elf took your hand and led you upstairs. The room was covered in posters and full of stuff that you were only used to seeing when you went to visit your cousins on your dad’s side of the family. Kreacher showed you the bathroom and handed you some towels.

Before you turned on the water to take a shower, you could hear Walburga and Orion yelling at their sons. After you got out, you could still hear them. When you got back to your room for the night, you could no longer make out exact words. You could tell the difference in voices based on pitch but had no clue what was being said. At some point— after you heard a voice speak that sounded like your grandmother— the volume went down considerably.

You could hear the clinking of silverware and the shuffling of several pairs of feet. The shower at the end of the hall started. Whatever conclusion had been reached, you weren’t sure. But a conclusion had been reached. Your family came upstairs as you began to braid your hair for bed.

“I have a game tomorrow, so we’re going to head out,” Mary said before leaving with most of the family.

Your parents gave you the very vague answer that they supported whatever you did and couldn’t wait to see you when Hogwarts got out before leaving with the others.

You finished braiding your hair when Sirius knocked on the open doorway, holding a bundle of green fabric. He tried not to stare at your body through your satin romper pajamas. It had been a while since he saw you with such little on. Sirius picked at his flannel pants, trying to will away certain thoughts of you before he got a hard-on at a very inopportune time.  

“Can I come in?”

You nodded. He sat on the edge of the bed, giving you some distance.

“This is your room, isn’t it?” you asked.

“Yeah. I guess all the stuff gave it away.”

“Where are you going to sleep?”

“I’m sharing with Reg.”

You both pursed your lips, not having anything else to say. You looked at him.

“It sounded pretty bad down there.”

“Not the first time they’ve told me I’m a disgrace to the family. The public shaming was new,” he tried to joke. “It could’ve been worse. Reg and I are still in the will.”

“Sirius, I accept your apology.”

He breathed out a sigh of relief. This was really his last attempt. There was nothing he could do after this if you didn’t want to talk to him. He took a chance and scooted closer to you, moving even a bit closer when you didn’t move away. He picked at the green bundle of fabric in his hand before lifting it up.

“I actually planned on giving this to you when I first apologized. You make it look so easy, I don’t know how you finished one at Prongs’ matches.”

You looked at the green sweatshirt with your name and a rabbit embroidered in silver thread. Sirius tried to make it match the sweatshirts that you made for them as close as possible. The needlework was kind of sloppy and there was a clear difference in your handwriting. But considering he started over four times, he was proud of himself for finishing. He was a bit over-excited, going to put the sweatshirt on you.  

You flopped the sleeves around. Sirius broke out into the dumbest looking smile when you flapped the extra big sleeves in his face. You suddenly pulled back, thinking he would see you as weird again. His smile dropped when he noticed you overthinking and analyzing everything. Sirius quickly grabbed at the sleeves, only getting fabric in his hands. He swung them around a little before cuffing them so they fit better.

“I bought it in my size… so we could switch sometimes.”

“So, we’re friends?” You asked.

Sirius looked down at you. “I was thinking more.”

“Oh.”

You leaned back as he leaned forward. The marauder pouted and tilted his head. His hand reached out to hold your chin until you looked him in the eyes.

“I’m a bad kisser,” you said.

Sirius just dropped his head. At least now he had confirmation that you had heard some of the stuff they said about you. You poked at Sirius’ head until he looked up. His eyes fluttered closed when you held his face in your hands. He opened them to see you looking at him. You gave him a small side smile.

“Friends, for now?”

“Yeah, friends.”

Regulus leaned against the doorway. “Siri, get your ass inside. I’d like to go to bed.”

The older boy groaned, wanting to spend more time with you. You looked past Sirius to meet Regulus’ eyes.

“He can stay with me, go on and sleep.”

Both boys blinked in surprise. Regulus gave his brother a thumbs up, closing the door and leaving. Sirius looked at you.

“Are you sure? I’ll go sleep on the couch when we finish talking.”

“You can stay, mister.”

He laughed, catching on. It was his turn to be the punchline for once. Except this was harmless and he was willingly entertaining it. The two of you talked well into the early hours of the morning. It was more on Sirius’ side than yours but there was clearly some tension that was past friendship. He wasn’t sure how long being just friends would last. It probably wouldn’t even be a problem if they hadn’t made fun of you.

The conversation stopped after you yawned, making him yawn which just made you yawn again. You both agreed that it was time to go to bed. Sirius transformed into his Animagus form, curling up near the foot of the bed. It might have been a bit creepy but he waited for you to fall asleep before doing the same.

Breakfast at Grimmauld Place was a very awkward affair. Walburga and Orion felt the need to apologize again for their sons’ behavior. In the kitchen, Sirius was told that he should consider himself lucky you saw something in him. He kept poking your foot with his underneath the table, enjoying watching the smile that came to your face. Regulus was mildly disgusted as he watched Sirius rest his chin on his hand and just stare at you. He had never seen his brother so in love before. Even their parents melted a little.

As you all left Grimmauld to go back to Hogwarts, Sirius grabbed your hand. His thumb rubbed over the back of your hand and he held on the entire time. You let Sirius lead you to Gryffindor Tower. He only let go of your hand once the two of you were inside the dorm— he had wanted to make sure the entire common room saw you with him.

“Prongs, the game, how was it?”

James couldn’t speak. Neither could Remus or Peter or Lily who had come up to relax with her boyfriend in a more private space. Sirius wanted to pull you in for a cuddle but wasn’t sure how comfortable you were with that. Instead, he handed you one of his pillows and you both sat side by side while resting against the headboard. Remus recovered first at the sight in front of him.

“It worked? You two are—”

“Friends for now, Moons.” Sirius couldn’t stop himself from grinning when he looked at you. “But yeah, it worked. Bunny’s back.”

(end)

[thatfanficstuff]

Impossible - Chapter 24

Pairing: Eric Northman x Reader + Godric

Warnings: description of death

A/N: Sorry for the delay. I had a flareup and haven't written in like three weeks. Everything I've been posting was pre-written. We're nearing the end.

***

Your visit to Sophie-Anne two days later was unannounced. Your father led the small group consisting of yourself, Eric and the Magister through the grounds, dismissing Sophie’s guards as he went. His own men trailed behind you silently taking their places to secure the property.

As usual, Sophie was found lounging in what she called her day room. Your father glanced around and arched a brow. Obviously he found it a bit much. You agreed completely.

“A bit ostentatious for one so deeply in debt. Wouldn’t you agree, Magister?” Roman asked, sounding bored.

“Absolutely, sir.”

Sophie, who up until this point, was ignoring all of you, was on her feet in a flash. Her gaze darted to you and Eric briefly before focusing on the other two men again. “Hailey, leave us,” she said to the blonde that had been lounging beside her. Hailey was Sookie’s cousin and didn’t know when to keep her mouth shut. It was how your friend had ended up on Sophie-Anne’s radar to begin with.

Once her lover had left, the queen put her attention back on your group. “Magister, I wasn’t expecting you. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Try as she might, the queen couldn’t keep that tremor of worry from her tone. That alone conveyed her youth. Frankly, you weren’t certain how she’d come to the position in the first place. Politics.

Alonso scoffed as he smirked. “I believe we can all agree it is rarely a pleasure when I become involved, your majesty.”

Her smile dropped before instantly finding its way back to her face. “And who is this with you?”

Now your father smirked as well. “Just call me an interested party.”

You rolled your eyes and elbowed Eric in the ribs when he huffed a surprised laugh at your father’s words. The noise caught Sophie-Anne’s attention and she glared at your mate. You fought the immediate urge to smack her. As if sensing your irritation, Eric grabbed your hand in his. If nothing else, his touch grounded you.

Her eyes flicked down to your joined hands and you would have sworn she turned just a bit paler. Sophie-Anne knew who you were and knew you used to work for the Authority. Now, here you were holding hands with the person that had knowledge that could bury her. She wasn’t a stupid woman, she knew where this was heading. That didn’t stop her from trying to talk her way out of trouble.

“I’m not quite sure what is going on here, Magister, but I assure you if any of my subjects have stepped out of line and fabricated some treasonous lie in an attempt to cast doubt on my loyalties, I am more than capable of punishing them without the Authority’s interference.”

“Not your subject and not a lie,” you piped up.

Alonso stepped forward, one hand in the pocket of his immaculate suit. “You have been accused of conspiring to sell the sacred blood for your personal gain. How do you plea?”

As Alonso took another step, Sophie stepped backward. “Not guilty of course. I would never do anything so heinous.”

Roman scowled. “Ordering your subjects to do it on your behalf doesn’t absolve you of your culpability.”

“What-what did she tell you?” Sophie stuttered as she took another step back. “It’s not true. Any of it.”

“How would you know if you aren’t aware of what has been said?” the Magister asked, a smirk curling his lips.

She held out a hand as if that would protect her from the judgement coming her way. “Now, just a minute.” Her eyes found you. “What is this? I trusted you. Why are you doing this? You don’t even work for them anymore.”

“Because it’s shit, Sophie. You’re trying to set him up to take the fall when this inevitably goes horribly wrong. If you were the leader you were supposed to be, you would have at least cut out the middle man. Taken some responsibility for your own actions. But that’s never been your strong suit, has it?” As much as you liked Sophie-Anne, she had some serious faults as a queen.

The Authority had been aware of her failings, but until this point, they’d been able to look the other way to keep from stirring things up where they didn’t have to. Despite all appearances to the contrary, the Authority was very into maintaining the status quo when possible.

Not getting the response she wanted from you, she looked at Eric. “And you? This is treason.”

“Speaking of concerns with my mate is not treasonous. It was she who reported you to the Authority. My apologies, my queen.” He sounded so sincere but he wore that familiar smirk as he lifted your hand to kiss the back of it. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Barely.

“Enough,” your father interrupted the conversation, clearly bored with the theatrics. “Magister?”

“Sophie-Anne Leclerq, you have been found guilty of the charge against you. The penalty is the true death.” He flicked his fingers and Eric stepped forward to carry out the sentence.

“Wait!” Sophie yelled.

Alonso held up his hand to bring your mate to a halt. “What is it?”

“I demand a rehearing. I want a hearing in front of the Authority.”

You arched a brow. You weren’t certain anyone had ever tried that before. But she was a queen, so if anyone was going to try it, it was fitting that it was her.

“You are aware that I am the voice of the Authority in matters such as this?” the Magister asked with a quick glance to your father. “However, given your status, the request is not unreasonable.”

Elation flickered across Sophie-Anne’s face. It lasted about two minutes before your father spoke.

“The Authority has heard your case and affirms the Magister’s decision. Sorry, Ms. Leclerq, but there are sins that even the worst of us can’t overlook.” He straightened the cuffs of his suit as he stared at the queen as if she was a bug beneath his shoe.

“Who are you?” Sophie asked.

“I am the Guardian,” he answered with an arched brow. He glanced at Eric and gestured to the queen. “Mr. Northman, if you would.”

Sophie-Anne shook her head and backed away but Eric was on her in a flash. She attempted to fight but he took her down easily, forcing her onto her stomach. He placed a foot on her back to hold her down while he grasped her head in his hands and yanked upward. A second later and Eric was dropping the late queen’s decapitated head on ground as she dissolved beneath him.

You’d stayed behind your father and Alonso so they were between you and the mess but you still stepped backward. Vampire deaths were so disgusting. “Well done, Mr. Northman. You’ll forgive me if I don’t offer you a ride back to your home,” your father said and you frowned. Yes, Eric could get himself home, but it still annoyed you. Of course, he hadn’t bothered to mention his plan for your mate to play executioner until you were almost there so you hadn’t brought anything for Eric to change into even if he cleaned himself up.

“Understandable, sir. I’ll meet you there.” He may have been talking to your father but he was looking at you. He was letting you know it wasn’t worth the fight. You ran your eyes over his blood-soaked form and gave him a nod. He’d make it home before the three of you anyway.

Roman took your arm in his hand and steered you to the exit. His steps were long and quick until he was practically dragging you behind him. You scowled and pulled against him but he didn’t slow down. Finally, you planted your feet and jerked your arm. He stumbled to a stop and turned to frown at you.

“Why the hell are you in such a hurry? Is there something I should know?” Your gaze shifted between him and Alonso. The latter looked amused as his lips twitched. Your father closed his eyes and sighed.

“I’m sorry. There’s just a phone call that I need to make as soon as possible. Why don’t you and Alonso take the car back? I’ll ride with some of the men.” He didn’t wait for a response before disappearing into the dark.

You licked your lips and shook your head before glaring at your friend. “And just what do you think is so funny?”

He chuckled and held up his hands in surrender. “I was wondering how long you were going to let him drag you along until you said something.”

“You have any idea what that call’s about?” you asked. Roman was up to something.

“Not a clue, sweetheart.”