#me and my hoarding problem against the world

[sunlit-mess]

it's not even half the percentage

[ultravi0lence14]

BORDERLINE

SOLDIER BOY X SWEETHEART!READER

WARNINGS: soldier boy as a whole, mentions of drugs, crude language

SUMMARY: in a feeble attempt to thwart your crush on soldier boy, you decide to practice shooting a gun with him, realizing that the crush you have on him is on the borderline of obsession.

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

the attraction you held for soldier boy was starting to become a problem.

it had been two weeks since you helped the boys rescue soldier boy from his cold induced sleep, and each waking second you were with him was getting worse and worse for your sanity.

although the man was a grade A jackass, he had this whit and charm about him that had you falling at his feet. it didn’t make it any better that he was totally hot. who cares if he was technically a grandpa, you were so far gone no one could bring you back.

you were gracing the borderline of obsession, and soldier boy would be a fool to have not noticed.

how could he not? you were always batting those pretty lashes at him, staring with those wide eyes when you thought he wasn’t looking, and always nervously biting your lip or stuttering over your words when he spoke to you.

ben thought you were adorable; with your glossy waves, short skirts and tight fitted tops. you were everything he found attractive, your personality just being the cherry on top.

so when he saw you, small denim skirt and tight tank top, making his dick harden, he realized that it was time to make a move.

you were staring down at butcher’s desk, looking at the gun he had given you to protect yourself. though there was a slight problem; you’ve never shot a gun in your life, and there was no way that butcher was going to teach you, even if you asked nicely.

“the guns not gonna bite ya’ babydoll,” the sound of soldier boys smug voice rang from behind you, making you stiffen. “c’mon, pick it up, i’ll teach ya’ how to use it.”

the apples of your cheeks reddened, slowly looking at the weapon and back at soldier boy. “you don’t need to do this ben, i don’t want to inconvenience you.” your words made his jaw clench. it wasn’t even the fact that you used his real name — a small gesture that made his stomach tighten. but it was the fact that you thought the mere idea of him helping you would be annoying to him.

you could never annoy him.

never.

you were the only person in this stupid group he could stand to be around.

“you could never annoy me, babydoll. now c’mon,” he spoke, reaching across you to grab the gun and stopping a breath away from your face, his nose basically touching yours. “you need to learn how to shoot, protect yourself from the fuckers out in the world.” he implemented his words with a sultry kiss on your cheek, the smell of weed and something distinctly soldier boy hoarding your senses as he pulled away and walked towards the shooting range in the building.

standing in place, your eyes were wide as you recounted what just happened. did he really just kiss you on the cheek? face so close to yours you could taste the earthy drug on his breath? it was all so intoxicating. so much so you didn’t even notice the man in question standing by the office’s entrance, a smug smile on his face.

“you comin’ babydoll? or do i need to haul you over my shoulder and carry you myself?” the imagery of your ass on full display as you were flung over his shoulder made the knot in ben’s spine stiffen, having mentally stop himself from getting a hard on as you walked sheepishly closer to him.

the walk to the secluded gun range was silent, your brain running ramped with how close soldier boy was to you; while ben tried to stop himself from pushing you against a wall and kissing you senseless.

as the two of you walked into the stuffy room, your eyes instantly roaming around to notice multiple targets with an onslaught of bullet holes in them. a long, stretching metal table to stand behind was glaring at you, glass panes dull without light reflecting off of them.

with a breeze of nonchalance and arrogance, solider boy walked over to the table and adjusted the gun in his palms. he fiddled with the clip, smacking it on the table and making sure all the bullets were in perfectly.

when he clicked it back into place, the man of the hour in your mind adjusted the safety off before aiming the gun upwards and shooting a couple of bullets at the target.

the loud sound made you plug your ears and jump in shock, but you also couldn’t help but notice how he landed his shots perfectly on the targets skull each time.

it was hot, watching him shoot a gun so effortlessly. yet you also couldn’t help but scold yourself at the thoughts twirling around your brain. how you wished he would kiss you senseless, be as reckless with you as he was with that gun while he pounded into your-

“get that pretty ass over here babydoll,” soldier boy grinned out, crooking a finger in a come hither motion. “gonna start our lessons nice and easy”

timidly, you walked over to the smirking man, gasping as his one arm snaked out and gripped your waist to pull you into him. your noses were brushing each other, breaths mingling as ben leaned forward and quickly nipped at your bottom lip.

no time to even react, soldier boy maneuvered your bodies so he was caging you in between the table and his body — his big arms wrapped around you in a snug and protective shield.

“first of all,” he started, whispering in your ear as you looked down at the gun in front of you. “this is how you grip a gun.” he showed you the proper ways to hold it, demonstrating and explaining through the proper technique as you tried to listen and not let your brain explode. “does that make sense, babydoll?”

his question caught you off guard, for you’d been staring at his veiny arms instead of listening.

with a sheepish nod, you grabbed the gun and held it in the same position he had. the feeling of his hands gripping tightly onto your waist made you coil tight in anticipation, and the ragged pull of his breath against your ear had yours catching in your throat.

“good fuckin’ girl.” he rasped out, the feeling of his smirk tickling your earlobe. “such a good listener for me, hmm?”

a sheepish nod filtered from your bones, leaving soldier boy to playfully kiss at your neck as his arms wrapped around yours. “now this is how ya do it.” he murmured in your ear, lifting your arms up while his big hands encompassed yours. “keep steady, aim straight at your target, and squeeze the trigger. though be careful ‘bout the recoil pretty girl. as much as i’m always here to catch you, i don’t want you hurting yourself.

nothing came from your parted lips as you focused solely on aiming at the target. nog even the feeling of ben’s hands gripping yours and his arms intwined around your body could shake the wave of concentration that coursed through your body.

with a shaky breath, your finger jumped to squeeze the trigger. a jolt thrummed up your arms, the ricochet from the shot jolting your bones.

you hadn’t even realized you’d closed your eyes until you felt ben’s hands untangle themselves from yours, palms going to your shoulders and squeezing tightly.

“look at you, babydoll!” he praised, lips brushing the shell of your ear as you peaked your eyes open. “that’s my fuckin’ girl! right on the money!”

it took you a while to realize that your shoot had pierced directly through the targets chest, hitting exactly where their heart would lie beating in their bones.

letting out a deafening squeal, you jumped slightly on the spot, turning around and throwing your arms around soldier boy’s neck. “i did it!” you squeaked, feet lifting off the ground as ben spun you around in his grasp. “holy shit ben i did it!”

“yes you did baby” he murmured in your ear, placing you down on the table and spreading your legs so he could fit in between your thighs. “and now it’s time for your reward.”

his skillful tongue dove into your mouth, lips mashing against each other as the both of you indulged in a heated kiss. whatever crush you had on this man turned into full blown obsession as he gripped your hair in one hand, using the leverage to pull your head back and leave trails of kisses down your neck.

this maddening lust you held for him wasn’t going away soon. especially after you learned what his tongue and fingers felt like exploring your pussy.

TAGS: @starzify @titsout4jackles @floralscented @deansbeer @bluemerakis @gibson-g1rl @deanangel @whisperingdaze @figthoughts @honeyryewhiskey @haunteres @foolinthera1n @ilovedeanwinchester4

NAT BABBLES: first soldier boy fic. . . pls be nice to me🥹

DIVIDER CREDS: @adornedwithlight

[inkyrainstorms]

The Martian Stan AU - The Beginning

“Is that it?” Stan asked, his voice burning and rising like the coming tide, vicious and overwhelming and inevitable. Ford’s shoulders tightened involuntarily, and he threw his brother as scathing of a glare as he could manage. Couldn’t Stan see that this, Ford’s problems, were important? “You call me all the way here after ten years, just to tell me to get as far away from you as possible?!”

If Ford was any less exhausted, if the hole in his left hand and the hole in his heart  were any less gaping, and the fresh scrapes and cracked fingernails ached any less, he might’ve taken a step back to apologize. To explain that it wasn’t about what Ford wanted, or what Stan wanted. It was about stopping Bill, and saving the world.

If Ford were a different man, he’d reconsider his approach and find a way to fix the chasm that seemed to yawn wider with every word that came out of each of their mouths. But as it was, Ford was not a different man. He couldn’t even fix himself.

So Ford instead felt indignation sting like hot coals in his gut and urge him to step forward, closer to Stanley. His brother took an involuntary half-step back. “Stanley, you don’t understand what I’ve been through!”

“What you’ve been through!” Stan kept talking even as Ford pushed past him, fury etched onto every word like a brand. “No, no, you don’t understand what I’ve been through! I’ve been to prison in three countries, and I once had to chew my way out of the trunk of a car!”

He got up in Fords face when Ford turned back, his brows drawn low and finger jabbing into Ford’s abdomen. He didn’t realize it, because of course he didn’t, but he’d pressed right into one of the bruises on Fords ribcage from his trip down the stairs earlier that day. Ford grit his teeth and glared back.

“You think you’ve got problems? I’ve got a mullet Stanford!”

Why couldn’t Stan take Fords problems seriously? Was he really cracking jokes at a time like this? 

Ford couldn’t take it anymore. 

Oblivious to the dangerous precipice Fords stability had drawn close to,  Stan got bitterly sarcastic. “Meanwhile where have you been? Holed up in your fancy house in the woods and living it up, selfishly hoarding all—“

Ford went still. If he’d been a slightly different man, a slightly more composed man, perhaps, he’d have fired back another jab at his twin, because how could the man that ruined Fords life and betrayed his complete and total trust call him selfish?

There was a different voice, at a different time altogether too recent and a lifetime ago. His monstrous Muse, his most trusted friend, taking his body on a fucking joyride and then having the gall to look him in the eyes and say “YOU’RE PRETTY SELFISH IQ”. 

Ford had just kept on weeping blood. 

As it was, Stan didn’t get a chance to finish his rant. He was much too busy receiving a solid punch to the face and staggering back against the force of it. For a moment, all was quiet. Ford was shaking, he realized distantly, staring blankly at his brother. His knuckles stung from the impact.

Stan took more time to recover than Ford would’ve thought, but when he finally did, it was with a new layer of dark fury that Ford hadn’t ever seen from him before. Stan lowered the book from where he’d clenched it to his chest, and pulled out a lighter. “Fine.” He whispered roughly, though it echoed in the cavernous room anyway. Louder, then, “Fine! You want me to get rid of it so bad? I’ll get rid of it right now!”

A challenging fire burned in Stan’s eyes, and with a flick, it burned in his right hand too. Ford’s journal dangled above the hungry, all consuming light. 

Ford couldn’t breathe. Every piece of himself he’d had to let go of, that he’d lost to Bill and all that he was giving up to rectify his own mistakes, all to see Stan get rid of part of his life’s work right before his eyes. 

How dare he.

Ford let out a guttural shout and lunged for the book. Stanley, evidently not expecting this, stumbled back and tried to move the lighter before Ford and him could get burned from it in the tussle.

He only partly succeeded. Ford hissed at the momentary new pain shooting up the underside of his hand as he tried to grab for the book and Stan flat out dropped the lighter in response. His brother faltered for a split second, his brow creasing. 

“Sixer, I—“

Ford didn’t let him finish. The second he heard the nickname, some part of him blanked out entirely, and the buzzing in his ears sounded like an angry hornet in his skull. “Don’t,” he grit out, and he’s sure his voice was much too thick and angry and he wasn’t being rational but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Call me that!” 

When Ford lunged for the journal anew, he tackled Stan to the ground as his brother instinctively tightened his own grip on the book. Ford’s book.

“Why not?!” Stan cried out, trying to pry Ford off of him and only succeeding in rolling the two on the ground away from the portal. Ford couldn’t figure out if he sounded more hurt or concerned. The hurricane in his chest kept him from thinking on it too much.

Ford let out a wordless grunt in response, as the two of them, having grappled up to stand, slammed straight through the door and Stan tried to pin him down onto one of the control panels, before Ford managed to gain enough momentum to roll Stan off of him. They were throwing punches and shouting insults they probably didn’t mean, and after a minute long struggle where they surely broke every damn thing in that control room —and good riddance, Ford tried to think but he was too tired to think much at all— Stan had shouted with all the ferocious desperation of a drowning man, “why can’t you listen to me, damnit! You ruined my life!”

Ford had retorted, because of course he did, with “You ruined your own life!” as he finally got a good grip on the book and kicked Stan away with enough force to shove him against the side of one of the control panels. 

Stan’s scream was abrupt and guttural and horrifying. It cut through the haze in Fords mind with all the precision of a scalpel, dropping a rock of dread into his gut. Ford backed away as quickly as he could, and didn’t even register his journal slipping through his slack fingers to land facedown on the ground. He felt sick.

“Stanley! Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” 

For a few, horrible, horrible seconds, Stan laid there, slumped and unmoving from where he’d hunched onto the floor. The burn— the brand on his shoulder looked angry and hot against his skin. It had burned clean through his coat and shirt.

Ford took a few hurried steps closer, shaking so hard he could barely walk, when Stan groaned. “Stanley…” he started, but trailed off as Stan pulled himself to his feet. His eyes were darker than Ford had ever seen them before. Stan was shaking too.

“You really want your dumb mysteries that bad?”

And Ford wanted to say, no, no he didn’t, because Stan still held his shoulder stiff as he could and his grip was knuckle-white where he’d used it to brace his arm against his side, because Ford had branded his own twin.

But the words stuck in his throat, because he realized with a start that Stan and him weren’t the ones shaking. The room was. His eyes shot to the portal.

His magnum opus and his curse, his Dadaleus’s Labyrinth, was activating. 

A sudden movement from Stan snapped Fords attention back to his injured, angry brother. Ford took a few cautious steps out of the control room and held up his hands placatingly as Stan advanced. His brother was blocking the doorway, but Ford needed to get in there, he needed to activate the shutdown procedure. “Stan, please,” he said weakly, not sure what exactly he meant. Let me through? Wait? Let me help you?

He didn’t get the chance to find out, though, because Stan continued talking, hefting up the journal he’d evidently picked up from the floor while Ford was distracted. “Well you can have ‘em” Stan said viciously, and Ford could hear the pain in it clear as day as he moved to shove the book into Ford’s hands.

Ford dodged Stan attempt, careful to not touch Stan’s injured shoulder, and weaved around him. “Stan, please, wait.”

Stan laughed, turning around. His grin looked��painful. “I’m tired of waiting, Si— Stanford. I really am.”

Ford didn’t have time for this. His heart ached in ways Ford didn’t have the time to decipher as the humming in the room got louder, and he turned to move back to the control room. “Just a moment, Stanley, I just need—“

When Stan latched onto his arm and tried to whirl Ford back around, Ford reacted on pure instinct and deep seated paranoia, that kind that can only be born from aftermath of pure devastation. He followed the momentum and shoved Stan back as hard as he could, turning and sprinting to the control room before Stan could recover and try to stop him again.

“Stanford?”

He never got there. Stan’s voice, suddenly small and scared, ground Ford’s pace to a halt. The humming was louder now, reverberating through his chest. 

“Ford, what’s happening?”

For a terrible moment, Ford didn’t turn around. He just stared at the door of the control room as if he could stop time if he tried hard enough. He didn’t want to see. Seeing made it real. It meant his worst fears had become true, it justified the cold sinking in his chest. 

“Ford!”

Ford whirled around and let out a hoarse cry. There Stanley was, greasy hair floating in a halo around his face, one hand outstretched and the other holding Ford’s journal tight to his chest. Ford had pushed him over the danger line.

The look on his twins face was worse than Ford could’ve ever imagined. 

The anger had drained out of him, the closer he floated to the all consuming blue light of the portal. The was naked terror in his eyes, and he cried out for Ford again.

“Stanley! Hold on, please!” Ford said, before making another break for the control room.

He needed to shut it off right this instant.

“Hold onto what, brainiac!?”

“I don’t know, Stanley! Anything within reach, just don’t let yourself go through the portal.”

Ford input the shut down code. He input it again. He then realized that they’d knocked the cords out of alignment and frantically began adjusting them from where they were wired into the top of the control panel. Shit, they really broke everything in this room, didn’t they?

The third time he input the code, the light flashed green, and the keys made themselves known on a panel adjacent to Ford’s position by the window.

Three keys. Of course. Why did he have to make it three keys, all turned simultaneously?

Metal screeched in the portal room, and when Ford dared to glance up between trying to maneuver himself to turn all three keys, a jolt of horror swept through him and nearly knocked him off his feet. 

Stan has nearly entirely consumed by the light now, clawing at the edge of the portal he’d managed to reach. Ford cursed himself when he realized that the metal plate Stan was holding, as well as  over a dozen others, were loosening to the point of nearly falling off entirely from the main frame. The other objects he’d scattered across the floor of his lab, everything from basic tools like screwdrivers to bigger machine parts floated through the portal at increasingly high speeds.

Ford wouldn’t need to do anything, he realized, and it wasn’t the comfort he wished it was. The portal was destabilizing. Judging by the erratic pulsing the portal light was doing, it’d be closing soon.

Ford ran out of the control room and stopped short just as Stan locked eyes with him again. 

“Stanley!” he called, another desperate idea beginning to form in his panic addled mind as he scanned the room for spare rope and found none. The spare rope from the first portal test must’ve gotten caught in the portals expanding gravitational pull. His brother was barely a shadow in the light now, but Ford knew Stanley had heard him. “If you toss me the journal, I can—“

“The journal?” Stan gasped out, frenzied. “Is that still all you care about!?”

“No, no, if I just had the instructions, I could fix—“ this, fix everything. 

The screeching of metal and thundering of the portal reached a deafening crescendo, and Ford could see Stan open his mouth to interrupt, to say something, assent or argument or—

But Ford didn’t get to find out what Stan would’ve said. A particularly violent jolt shook the metal frame of the portal, and Stan, with a wide-eyed final look that Ford didn’t know how to decipher, slipped.

His brother disappeared into the light just as the portal collapsed in on itself with enough concussive force to send Ford crashing to the ground. He slammed onto his back hard enough to knock the air from his lungs.

Silence fell over the room. It was dark.

Ford stared at the ceiling above him, then dragged his eyes, slowly, painfully, to the portal. 

The deactivated, half missing and half obliterated portal.

For a long, long time, Ford sat in the dark under the full weight of every bruise and scratch and burn he’d sustained, and it was like he was underwater, head swimming with nausea and pain and bewilderment. He was numb. 

A faint plip-plop sound echoed suddenly through the deathly silent basement, and Ford squinted at the sound through his crooked glasses, trying to identify the source. 

A dark substance stained the edge of the portal, right where Stan had been holding on. Ford watched blankly as the liquid slowly rolled along the curve of the portal entrance, before reached a jagged gap in the perfect circle and slipping through. It slid down the jagged and crumpled panels, weaving until it gathered at the tip of a particularly jutting sheet of metal. 

Another drip.

Another.

Ford shifted closer, simply trying to breathe. He pointedly didn’t think about how the other side of the portal had driven Fiddleford to seemingly the brink of madness in moments, he didn’t think about the glimpse into the Nightmare Realm Bill had given him when he first revealed his true hand, and he certainly didn’t think about the final look Stanley had given him, grief and rage and betrayal all rolled into one.

He finally got close enough to see the liquid for what it was. It wasn’t oil, like he’d figured, like he’d hoped and prayed with every inhale and exhale to the gods he didn’t believe in. It was too thick, congealing with familiar splatters on the floor. It was a deep crimson.

Stan must have cut his hand on the metal with how hard he’d been holding it, Ford realized, and the thoughts were the first crack in the dam Ford had buried himself beneath. This was Stan’s blood.

Stan was in the Nightmare Realm, bleeding from one hand and burned on the other shoulder and begging for Ford to do something, asking Ford what was happening because he didn’t know, because Ford didn’t tell him, and—  

It was all Fords fault.

All of it.

Oh Moses.

The dam creaked with warning, a death rattle and a laugh rolled into one, before Ford was swept into the undertow.

Ford had killed his own brother.

All alone in the dark basement with the machine he’d turned into his brother’s grave, Ford buried his burnt, bloody hands in his hair and bowed his head until it hit his knees. All alone, Stanford Pines cried for the first time in years.

Alternate Titles: The Worst Conversation Ever

Or: Ford started disassembling the portal early and everything went to shit accordingly.

Tags! @aroace-get-out-of-my-face @pleasantartisanhottea @empressofsamoyeds @littlelilliana15 @pinefamilycatsau @thejaxindianrizzler (I saw your comment in the og post and it made me laugh cause I was in the middle of working on this when I noticed it) (I hope you don’t mind the tag :))

if I missed anyone I’m sorry about that! The tag is always a fair option to follow too (#martian Stan au)

[messydiabolical]

i’d once read a Mass Effect take that has been stewing in my melon ever since, about Wrex and him demanding a cure for the genophage during the war in 3. (I think it was on twitter but I can’t remember for sure. Just the idea of it stuck with me.) The general sentiment was that this was a dick move on his part, that there were “bigger problems” and this wasn’t the time and it was cruel and manipulative of him to put Shepard in that position. He should have helped out first and Shepard would have helped him back once the war was over. A lot of people chimed in agreeing, saying how they stopped liking Wrex after that. It bothered me for a bunch of reasons I didn’t feel I could adequately articulate, but i’m gonna try now. Prepare for my meandering thought style! The governing bodies of the Mass Effect Galaxy have repeatedly proven that they believe themselves superior to other species and know what’s best for everyone. They don’t let all species have a say in the council, always look out for their own species’ interests in so much as it pertains to keeping things as they are, and will happily go along with literal genocide to aid this. They approve of secret police and biological warfare espionage tactics. They weaponise bureaucracy to hide their cruelty behind ‘oh red tape has us bound, sorry uwu’.   I’m going to try to remain pertinent to the Wrex subject but as one great example of these governing bodies ways of dealing with percieved outsiders: The first contact war is a great example of how ludicrous and fascist things are.. ‘It’s ilegal to use this thing so we’re going to kill you for it’ without so much as a heads up. How were humans supposed to know that, exactly? The governing bodies of this place do not care about anyone outside their own self interests. Fall out of line and they will work to end you. Until you prove you might be useful or of interest to them in some way (or a threat). And then of course we later learn the asari were breaking these laws themselves, hoarding this tech to stay superior. Classic. Anyway, back to Wrex. Wrex knows this. Wrex has seen how the krogan are regarded and treated, the dangerous monolith species, outsiders who can never be let in, never forgiven, never given a chance to grow or change. For a long arse time. “But the krogan were getting out of control and also committing genocide, the genophage was a last ditch resort to stop a galactic war” … And it’s been hundreds of years since then. That 'last ditch resort' wasn’t used as a stop gap, a reset to even out the playing field so that new negotiations and relations could be developed. It was used to end the krogan, and has been actively maintained to continue that, ever since. Do you really, truly believe that if Wrex petitioned the council/ world leaders to negotiate reversing the genophage, they’d even let him have an audience with them? And if they did, do you really think these people, with their history and all the shit they pull, would listen and be reasonable? I can already hear the responses, that weaponised bureaucracy (“you raise an interesting point Mr Wrex but unfortunately we are recovering from a war don’t you know, please come back in 300 years for review, we are very interested in discussing this further then!”) Wrex is old, wise and knows exactly what is up. The only way the governing bodies of power were ever going to have a listen, was if he had something they needed. The war with the reapers provided that. And even then, he knew that they wouldn’t listen outright; having Shepard’s voice was a way to get the foot in the door. It makes my heart hurt to think about that honestly; how dehumanising (dekroganising?) it must feel to be the ruler of your people and know that you have to rely on your alien friend to even get someone to listen to you, when what you want to say is an extremely reasonable “hey committing genoicde against my people sucks, stop that now”. Anyway, Wrex was right, this was his one chance to save his people and he took it. Good for him.

[thescarletnargacuga]

IT'S ME AGAIN! BACK AT IT AGAIN WITH ANOTHER KINGDOM AU REQUEST!

Could you do one where Pomni gets kidnapped by the gummi bandits and taken to the dark lands where the Ether dragon (sun and moon) is? And then have Caine come in to rescue her?

And have a romantic ending? 👀👀👀

ALSO BUBBLE TRANSFORMING INTO A HORSE BECAUSE CAINE NEEDS A NOBLE STEED HEHEHE

A/N: a classic fairytale setup, I like it!

MY HERO

A KINGDOM AU SHOWTIME ONESHOT

AU credit @allisonraeyt @tadk-ask-blog

WARNING: fantasy action

~~~

Pomni felt dizzy as she slowly came to consciousness. The world was still dark when she opened her eyes. She tried to move. Only to find that her hands and ankles were tied. She let out a gasp and her voice was muffled by the rag tied around her mouth. Her heart started to race and she struggled against her bonds.

Torch light blinded her against the night when the bag over her head was violently ripped away. "Knock it off!" A gruff voice barked in her face. Pomni flinched away and froze in place, breathing heavily against the gag. "Cooperate, and you won't get hurt. Understand?"

Pomni had no idea where she was other than some cave. It smelled dank and reeked of animal filth. Three anthropomorphic gators stood over her. The largest held a bright burning torch that lit the whole cavern.

"Boss," The smallest of the three gators spoke. "When is the dragon gonna be here? The longer she's with us, the more likely-"

"Shut it. They'll be here when they get here. The amount of gold from their hoard they're offering for her will be worth the wait." The largest gator pointed a jagged knife in Pomni's face. "And once you're no longer our problem, you can scream and struggle all you want. No one gets past the Ether Dragon."

~

Gangle knocked on Pomni's door not long after sun up. "Princess? Are you awake?" The bedroom was silent, so she opened the door carefully. "Princess Pomni? I'm terribly sorry to-" The room was completely upturned. "Skies above! Guards! GUARDS!! PRINCESS POMNI HAS BEEN KIDNAPPED!! GET PRINCE CAINE!!"

Not even a minute later, Prince Caine rushed into the bedroom. He was just as taken aback as Gangle was on first entering. "What...!? How did this happen!? Did none of the patrols hear anything!?" He roared at the guards that followed him.

"No, my liege. We had no reason to believe anything was amiss." One guard answered quickly.

Pink magic glowed along the edge of Caine's pupils. His mystic sight scanned the room. The room was a mess, but jewelry and expensive silks were still there. Pomni fought back. She had to have cried for help.

There was a strange aura to the room. He could feel it. He kicked aside a broken drawer to find the source. A piece of scroll parchment covered runic symbols was stuck to the floor. "A silencing seal. That explains why no one heard her, and tells me they don't have natural magic."

He went to the open window. It was a long drop from her bedroom. Claw marks scratch the strong stone wall. "Strong enough to climb several stories without rope." Caine commented to himself. At the bottom of the tower, something glistened.

Caine vaulted out the window, much to the shock of everyone else in the room. He let himself freefall most of the way down before teleporting short range to the ground. He knelt down to inspect the shining magic only he could see. A single drop of water, sparkling on a single blade of grass.

"A tear!" Caine elated. "Well done, Pomni!" He looked ahead and saw another shining tear in the distance. Caine whistled loudly and Bubble flew to him as quick as a lark. "I need you to be my wings! The princess is in danger!"

"Right away, your majesty!" The tiny voice of the bird shapeshifted into something much larger and more regal. A pegasus. His bright white coat shined in the morning sun as he pawed the ground, eager for take off.

Caine mounted bareback, no time to saddle up. "Ya!"

Bubble reared, flaring his wings and galloped into take off. His powerful wings putting distance between him and the ground quickly.

Caine watched for tears on the ground, steering Bubble to follow. "I'm coming, Pomni."

~

Pomni wiped her cheek on her shoulder. Her face was still wet with tears. She hoped the spell Caine taught her worked, even when they knocked her out. She and her three captors sat in silence for a long time before a booming echo came from the entrance. Something huge landed at the entrance to the cave.

With each rumbling footfall, Pomni lost more and more hope that it was Prince Caine. From the dark emerged a two headed, dark blue and bright gold dragon. Its colors split down the middle like the horizon at twilight. The golden head glared down at the group. The dark blue head gazed down with indifference.

"We got your prize. Hand over the gold and we'll be on our way." The leader of the three bandits boldly states to the Ether Dragon.

"Stifle your arrogant tone, mortal. Or I will burn it away." The eyes of the golden head flared like stoked flames.

The two meeker bandits backed up. The leader stood steadfast. "This mortal successfully stole from the High Prince himself. I have every right to be arrogant, but we're not here for me. You want to Princess? Hand over the reward."

The golden head huffed angrily, but remained silent when the dark blue head looked at her. The blue half clutched a large chest and set it down in front of the bandits. "As honored."

The lead bandit kicked open the chest. It was full of treasure from the dragon's horde. He gestures to his lackies to bring Pomni forward. "She's all yours. Pleasure doing business with you."

Pomni fought the grip of the bandits, doing everything in her power to stay out of the dragon's clutches. She screamed against the gag as the clawed hand of the golden dragon reached for her.

A pink bolt streaked through the air and exploded on impact against the scaled hide of the dragon's claw. The Ether Dragon roared in pain and turned to the entrance of the cave to see a winged horse and rider swooping into the cavern.

"UNHAND HER!!" Caine held up a shining silver sword, blazing magenta with magic.

With all attention on Caine, Pomni headbutted the bandit lacky next to her. He doubled over and dropped his knife. She awkwardly hopped over and managed to get a hold of it. She struggled to try to cut her wrist bindings as the cave shook with the movements of the huge dragon.

The golden head immediately shot a stream of bright orange fire that heated the whole cavern. The blue head tried reaching for Pomni again.

Bubble flew forward bravely headlong into the wall of fire. Caine pointed his sword straight ahead and a powerful beam of pink magic split the dragon's fire.

Pomni barely dove out the way in time to avoid the pearly white fangs of the blue dragon head snapping at her. Her ankle bindings held tight but she was making progress on freeing her wrists. She squirmed away as fast as she could out of reach of the reaching dragon head.

"Foul light bringer." The dark blue head bared its fangs, unable to reach further without the cooperation of its more temperamental half.

The bandits sheltered in place the best they could. The packed treasure chest was too heavy to move quickly and they were staying out of this fight.

The golden head roared and snapped its jaws at Caine as he flew into range. Caine lashed his sword and pink magic flared out in a wave, slicing into the dragon's face. Both heads felt the pain, and the dark blue head turned to fight Caine as well.

Caine was waiting for that. He has Bubble swoop down and he reached out for Pomni. Pomni had just got her wrists free and dropped the knife and rope as she reached out for Caine with both hands. Caine grabs her wrist and hoists her up in his lap on Bubble's back.

Bubble double timed it out of the cave. Both dragon heads roared as the dragon gave chase. Once outside, the massive wings folded to the dragon's sides unfurl and the Ether Dragon takes to the skies. Both heads release a breath attack, orange fire and light blue lightning merge to create an overpowered blast of elemental energy.

Caine held his sword out vertically behind him and shielded Pomni with his body as the energy hit the sword's defensive aura. Fire and lightning blazed around them with terrible force. Bubble's wings were singed but he kept flying as fast as he could.

Caine's eyes went completely pink as he whispered to his sword. The sword sang with a metallic ring and he threw it. The sword flew like a guided missile and sliced through one of the dragon's wings multiple times. The dragon rapidly lost altitude, despite its best efforts to stay in the air.

The sword boomeranged around to Caine's open hand. He blinked the light like from his eyes as he watched the Ether Dragon crash-land on a hillside, roaring furiously.

Caine tapped the rope around Pomni's ankles with his sword and the binds disintegrated. Things were finally calm enough for Pomni to pull off the gag in her mouth. "Blegh!" Her mouth felt horribly dry, so instead of speaking, she buried her face in his chest in a right hug.

Caine snapped away his sword and hugged Pomni back. "Thank the stars you're okay."

Pomni looked up, tears of overjoyed relief walked in her eyes. Caine gently caressed her cheek. "The tears shall lead you to the Kingdom. I'm proud of you for remembering."

"I had a good teacher." Pomni said quietly.

~

The three gators bandits. Slowly carrying their massive box of loot, the smallest makes conversation. "Why didn't the Ether Dragon steal Pni themselves? Aren't they super powerful?"

The other lacky answered. "The castle has special defences just for ol' two face. They can't get close, but even if they could, they're massive! Caine would see them coming miles away and he's quite powerful himself. He's High Prince for a reason."

"Oh."

They stop when the ground starts shaking out of nowhere. It's not until they look behind them, they see the massive enraged Ether Dragon sprinting right at them.

"No Princess. No deal." Stated the blue head.

"I'M GOING TO DESTROY YOU FOOLS!! YOU LED HIM RIGHT TO US!!" Screamed the gold.

[mllemaenad]

Why so anti-Brotherhood?

At their best (Roger Maxon, Elder Lyons, Paladin Danse) they're massively effective humanitarians; even at their worst (Father Elijah, Paladin Casdin) they posess admirable traits (valour and determination); and most of the tine they are somewhere in the middle (Arthur Maxon, Knight Maximus): flawed but ultimately well-intentioned men and women trying to stop humanity from repeating its biggest mistakes.

They helped out in the early days of California, and when the NCR began to start following in the doomed footsteps of the old world, the Brotherhood tried (unsuccessfully to stop them). On the East Coast, they helped to save the Capital Wasteland from drought, and they stood up to the reckless experimentation of the Institute. In Filly, Lucy Maclean would probably have died without Maximus's intervention.

They can be unsubtle, and heavy-handed, and sometimes almost arrogant, but they ARE good people.

Hi, Anonymous person.

It feels like ... maybe you have the wrong end of the stick here? It sounds like you think I've got some kind of specific grudge against every individual member of the Brotherhood. And I ... don't. That would be silly and unfair. The Brotherhood has existed for a couple of centuries now. People are born into it, or indoctrinated as children. That's ... sort of the point Fallout: New Vegas is making with Arcade and Veronica – the forward-thinking children who have to contend with the mistakes of their very backward parents.

My issue is with the institution, not some random guy in power armour.

I'm not going to go through that whole list, because that's a lot. But – well, Maximus, since the TV show is going to be the hot topic.

Maximus is a refugee from a recently fallen civilisation who joined up with the Brotherhood of Steel because he was briefly impressed by the image of a knight in very literal shining armour, whom he saw breezing safely through the destruction of his home.

Then he found out that they are a group of militant cultists who use brutal beatings and ritual humiliation to "condition" their recruits (and possibly force them to take on new identities, as Maximus seems to be a name they "gave" him). His friend Dane is so frightened of going out on a mission with one of these knights that they actively injure themselves to avoid it, and Thaddeus's experience confirms that Maximus's treatment is completely normal.

When he is assigned to a knight, he quickly discovers that literally all of Titus's dignity comes from wearing a helmet that makes his voice sound deep and commanding, and underneath all that armour he is a bully and a coward. Not just a bully and a coward, but the kind of bully and coward who can't figure out that specifically bullying the only guy who might be able to save his life is a really fucking stupid move.

Nothing in that series made me think "Wow! The Brotherhood are good guys!" It made me think ... "Get out now, kid. Run as far and as fast as you can."

It is true that Maximus steps in to protect Lucy. It is equally true that Maximus would have very much died of dead-battery-in-soldier-suit had Lucy not intervened to help him. I'm not sitting here wishing ill on Maximus. But this ain't a story about how the Brotherhood are worthy saviours of the wasteland; it's the story about two lost kids (and one embittered pre-war Ghoul) finding their way together through hard won trust and understanding, which are pretty much always presented as the hopeful counterpoint to Fallout's grim "war never changes" theme.

I mean ... Maximus also falls uncritically in love with Vault 4 because they give him oysters and slippers. This is his standard for joining up with anywhere. He is a starving refugee whom the Brotherhood exploited.

I have no patience for The Brotherhood of Steel because they are violent, bigoted, technology hoarding isolationists whose defining trait is their extreme arrogance. They treat every problem as a nail and themselves as the hammer, and even when individuals in the organisation are actively trying to do good it's astonishing how ineffectual they are. I'm not sure they've had a relationship with another organisation they haven't poisoned.

They are actively genocidal towards Ghouls, Super Mutants and Synths. Owyn Lyons is undoubtedly one of the more open minded members, but a) one of the reasons they are able to appear as "the good guys" in Fallout 3 is because the particular nature of the FEV disaster going on in the Capital Wasteland means that there are virtually no non-hostile Super Mutants b) even Lyons' people still just shoot indiscriminately at Ghouls, an attitude that is simultaneously so morally bankrupt and tactically stupid that it makes me tear my hair out every time I think about it.

Also: The Brotherhood of Steel kills Danse. I don't think you can reasonably put Danse on your list of reasons why they're worthwhile without also noting that they, you know, send you out to murder him because he's a Synth.

And ohhhhhh they are so very bad at everything. It's actually quite difficult for me to think of things they've done that don't piss me off.

In the original Fallout they're sending aspirants off to die in The Glow because they think it's funny.

Lyons may be the (relatively) benevolent protector of the wasteland in Fallout 3, but he's also responsible for The Scourge: the wanton slaughter of half the population of the Pitt, the looting of their technology, and the kidnapping of their children. Undeniably conditions in the Pitt were awful, but this was no mercy mission: it was more of their mutants-aren't-people-and-all-your-stuff-is-ours bullshit. And they leave a guy behind who starts a raider gang and is basically the reason slavery exists in any large scale form in the Capital Wasteland. I'm not sure it's possible to fuck up worse than that.

Even in Fallout 3 ... they are not what you'd call an inspiration. Half of Lyons' forces threw a hissy fit and went off to sulk in Fort Independence because apparently obsessively hoarding laser riles is infinitely more important than helping people. By 2277 no one's even looking at the water purifier. That situation gets resolved because James finally decides to get off his arse and finish the project (I respect the man's commitment to procrastination). They don't manage to deal with the source of the Super Mutants. They basically spend a couple of decades mostly adequately guarding GNR – while places like Big Town get overrun – and tinkering with their stupid robot. They don't even fix the stupid robot. You know what the answer to fixing the stupid robot was? "Hey, did anybody think to ask Madison how the power supply works?" Useless.

In Fallout 4 they roll in and start extorting the settlers, like those people don't have enough to deal with, and the things they say if you bring Nick or Hancock with you to visit them are appalling.

I've recently been reminded of them threatening their allies at gunpoint in Fallout 76 because they think they have the right to steal everyone's research.

Okay. Enough ranting.

What's my problem with The Brotherhood of Steel? They are the walking definition of "following the doomed footsteps of the old world". They are just about Vault-Tec: military edition.

So we have to grab every schematic, every holotape, every book, and every goddamned note that holds the building blocks of the Old World before it's too late. Our Scribes will hold onto them, preserve them, perhaps even progress beyond them. And the Knights will protect them. Like a hard shell around a precious seed. One day, when the time is right, that seed will grow. And a new civilization will be born. – Fallout 76: Preservation of Technology

They think that somehow they are the true last bastion of civilisation, and that they have the right to decide when the world will begin anew. They can't even deal with the idea that there are different kinds of people in the world these days that your standard homo sapiens. They hoard, and they look backwards, and for all their self-righteous we-are-protecting-the-world propaganda, in practice all that means is that they get to keep all the big guns and threaten everyone else with them.

But civilisation has always just been people choosing to collaborate and help each other. And they have zero right to interfere with that.

Also: I think power armour is stupid and no fun at all to play in, and I am sitting here judging the Brotherhood for their obsession with the stuff. :)

[blouisparadise]

Today we have the fifth part of our short fic rec list! All of the fics on this list are a nice quick read that is less than 10k. If you missed the other parts to this rec list, you can find part one here, part two here, part three here, and part four here. Happy reading!

1) Shut Your Mouth, Baby | Explicit | 3,028 words

While fooling around in a closet at a New Year’s Eve party, Louis can’t seem to keep quiet. All he needs to do is hold off until midnight, when Harry will finally uncover his mouth and let him come at full volume.

2) Heaven In These Sheets | Explicit | 3,557 words

Bunny Hybrid Louis has it out for his boyfriend’s phone.

3) Tide’s Deathless Death | Explicit | 4,350 words

The Red Serpent gleamed in all of her marvellous glory from where she was anchored a meagre few miles away from the land. Her flag waving proudly in the afternoon sun. The image was certainly memorable, of the flag, that is; a serpent coiled viciously around a human heart, fangs sunken into the organ and blood oozing from the very spot. If not for the ship herself, the flag had its own repute of conveying the message that the captain was not to be trifled with. There was no single man who had survived after taking up arms against the captain. Well, there was one man, but including him amongst the hoard of common faces would be a foolishness on the feared-by-all captain’s part. That man currently stood silently staring after the captain, palm curled around the handle of his blade, and teeth clenched in anger. He was certainly going to relieve all the navies of their plight by taking down the captain. At least then, in his relatively newfound life of piracy, he would have done one good deed.

4) Always Tell The Truth | Not Rated | 5,027 words

Harry is Louis’ dentist and getting a wisdom tooth removed shouldn’t be the end of the world.

5) I Knew It From The Start | Explicit | 5,233 words

Louis starts calling Harry ‘daddy’. Consequently, Harry discovers that he has a daddy kink.

6) Spaces Between Us, Hold All Our Secrets | Not Rated | 6,441 words

The thing about Harry is, is that he is the most wonderful guy you´ll ever meet. He is kind, compliments you on things you are usually insecure about, which shows he truly pays attention to who you are as a person. And he befriends everyone. Except Louis.

7) Outline Of My Sins | Explicit | 6,551 words

Prompt 453: AU where alpha Harry is an art student who is taking a figure drawing class and omega Louis is the nude model. In the many years that Harry has taken art classes, he has never been more hot and bothered than now, having to stare at a beautiful nude omega model for hours.

8) Shouldn’t Cry (But I Love It) | Explicit | 6,586 words

They're roommates. They're quarantined. There's a small problem coming up.

9) Your Name Is Tattooed To The Bottom Of My Heart | Explicit | 6,613 words

Prompt 114: a PWP where Louis gets an arse tattoo with Harry’s name for his birthday.

10) Leave Like The Summer Breeze | Explicit | 6,551 words

When Louis and Zayn are stranded in Alabama, a farmer offers them shelter. He just asks for one thing in return.

11) Smile for the Camera for It Knows Everything, Hollywood Star| Mature | 6,676 words

Prompt 132- The story of Nancy Reagan being called the blowjob queen of Hollywood but it’s Louis.

12) The Writing On the Wall | Explicit | 6,705 words

When BookToker Louis receives a gift basket filled with all his favorite sweets, wines, and stuffed animals alongside the new Harry Styles book, he’s shocked at the story he finds in the pages.

13) Muffins & Cigarettes| Mature | 7,591 words

Louis pouts. “You can’t pout your way into this, Louis”, Harry said as he was fixing his tie, watch and rings glinting against the soft sunlight filtering through the window. “Of course, I can. Watch me.”

14) The Knothead Neighbor| Mature | 8,058 words

Prompt 3: Neighbors AU, preferably ABO! Harry works evenings/nights (maybe like a surgeon something that requires him to be gone for long hours) and has a cat. The cat has a little kitty door at the back so that it can explore and such. Louis just moved next door and the cat seems to always end up at his door. Eventually, Louis lets the cat in, as he’s new and he’s feeling quite lonely. They become fast friends, so much so that the cat prefers to stay with Louis rather than go home. Harry gets concerned that the cat starts to stay out all day/night so he eventually leaves a note attached to the cat’s collar with its name and phone number. Louis texts him telling him he’s his neighbor and not to worry, the cat just likes to hang with him as it might be lonely. Harry gets pissed that this stranger is stealing his cat so he goes to confront Louis and tell him to stop stealing his cat. Of course, as soon as he sees Louis, he falls in love with him and the rest is history. (If ABO could be cute that both Harry and Louis like to cuddle with the cat because it holds the other’s scent)

15) Kiss It Better | Explicit | 8,080 words

Harry shakes his head with a light laugh and leans down to kiss him again which Louis happily accepts even if he is a little confused by the reaction. "Baby, not a night has gone by that I haven't thought about you in my bed, naked, and begging for my cock." Blinking up at him with wide eyes, Louis opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out. While they did flirt a lot over the last few weeks, Harry had never said anything like that. It shocks him as much as it turns him on. "News to me." "I won't lie and say I like random hookups or casual sex, but to me this isn't what that is." Louis swallows thickly, unsure of what to say to that but once again Harry gives him an out. "So, If you want we can stay up here and I can show you all the things I've thought about doing to you." Another kiss, quick and sweet. "Or, we can go back downstairs and we'll dance all night."

16) Could Start A Cult | Explicit | 8,750 words

He lowers down the top that Louis is wearing, successfully unclasping his nursing bra as well, letting Louis’ tits bounce at the sudden movement. Harry massages both breasts to stimulate the milk flow, and he can feel his cock hardening inside his pants.

17) Should Be, Meant To Be | Explicit | 9,174 words

Prompt #65: Louis signs up for a Sugar Daddy dating website on a drunken dare. He forgets for a while, until one night he gets a notification for a message request from none other than his really hot (really rich) boss, Harry Styles.

18) Into It | Explicit | 9,197 words

Louis meets Harry. They hit it off.

19) Something To Prove | Explicit | 9,425 words

Louis is the first and only omega to work at Red Valley Medical Center. Despite being more than qualified, he still faces prejudice for his career choice everyday. From patients refusing his treatment to condescending alpha doctors intervening with his work, practicing medicine in Boston is more challenging than Louis had ever thought it would be.

20) Sugar Water | Explicit | 9,454 words

When his most familiar begins to feel all too unfamiliar, Harry finds out what it means to love like real people do.

21) Hook You Up (Charm You Down) | Explicit | 9,600 words

Swiftly, Harry raises his right hand to his head. Bringing two ringed fingers up, he touches the brown hat sitting on his head, tipping it with a raise of eyebrows in the direction of Peter Pan. He punctuates the whole action with his signature smirk. The reaction is almost immediate. Like Harry hoped it’d be. Though he expected the grin he received, he can’t say he directly expected the man to come forward his way. But he surely isn’t going to complain. “Captain! Fancy seeing you there,” Peter Pan says when he reaches Harry’s space. And wow. Seeing it from up close, Niall was right. Face of an angel, totally Harry’s type and all that. 

22) Poppies In May | Mature | 9,603 words

And maybe he deserves it, Louis thinks bitterly. His hand curls around the fence tightly, and he feels like if he lets go he’ll slid onto the cold ground and never fucking get up again. Maybe standing here, staring at Harry’s hunched over, retreating back is what he deserves.

23) Wanna Do Nothing With You | Explicit | 9,606 words

The accident happens in the stupidest way possible. One minute Louis is demonstrating a skateboard trick he’d just learned for Lottie, the next he’s waking up in a hospital. He’s told that he wasn’t unconscious the entire ride, but he has absolutely no recollection of it. One second he’s fucking around in his own garden and the next he’s being assaulted with the strong sterile scent of a hospital. So. There’s that.

24) Hello, My Name is Louis | Explicit | 9,686 words

Louis hurried to hang up the phone and take off his headset, throwing it away as if it was burning hot. He hugged himself by the shoulders and hid his face in his knees, sitting in his desk chair like a swimmer ready to dip into a pool, a pool of embarrassment. Not many people got past "Hello, my name is… " and even fewer engaged in a full conversation with him. And if they did, it usually went better than this.

25) Got It Right Such A Long Time Ago | Explicit | 9,699 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

There are a lot of people Harry might expect to find on his doorstep at three o’clock in the afternoon these days. It could be the delivery man, come to drop off the pair of boots Harry impulsively ordered online last week. It could be one of his neighbors, dropping by to complain about how a party he’d thrown weeks ago had clogged up the street. It could also be any number of his friends in L.A., who stop by unannounced most days to mooch off Harry’s food or whisk him away to try some new yogurt shop.    As a rule, it definitely cannot be Louis Tomlinson, although Harry’s blinked at least three times now, and it’s still Louis standing there, a backpack slung over his shoulder and a duffel bag at his feet.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[witsserviceablesubstitute]

I really appreciate Taash and the bond that they and my nonbinary Rook have developed, but I didn't like the decision I had to make for them. Nor did I believe the dichotomy needed to be as stark as it was, especially given how the Antaam are in DATV.

As a whole, DATV is up there as one of the better games I played this year. It's a lot of fun, especially when the world opens up. I love the characters, environments, humour, puzzles, and Rook. Too, the narrative framing around some of the companions is cinematic in a way rarely seen in videogames. A moment during Emmrich's quest had me laughing in delight as they deliberately used the techniques of old horror movies... because that's what genre Emmrich is in, he's the protagonist of a black and white horror movie. (Knowing that, do I think it's a good idea to let him become a Lich? 🤔). It was theatrical, experimental, a little campy, and I loved that they could play around with genre and narrative this way.

But I understand some of the criticisms. The world of Thedas is still complicated but much is hidden in text. So while I don't feel the loss as others do, I read everything and there are also things I don't actually want in the games ever again (broodmothers, for example), I can see how DATV would feel far from its previous worldbuilding if you rely on environmental storytelling. Especially with how the Qunari have been handled. The Antaam is a fascist sect that broke away from the Qun, but without more Qunari to balance them, it does feel like an excuse for the game to have a faceless hoard of othered enemies.

Taash's quests were a good opportunity for a counterbalance against the Antaam but I feel like their conclusion made the problems with the Qunari worse. Maybe The Iron Bull needed to be there in some capacity to fill that whole situation out properly?

[alessiathepirate]

Resident Evil 2 - Resident Evil 4

SHARED WOUNDS HEAL TOGETHER THE BEST: Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

Summary: Relationship development through nightmares and shared trauma.

Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistake I made while I wrote this short story.

Warnings: swearing, referenced PTSD, trauma, mentioned death, described violence, hurt/comfort

•••

Half a night full of nightmares

Escaping the unsurvivable doesn't come with good feelings at all.

It didn't fill her heart with pride or joy after she survived all those monsters in Raccoon City, even though she almost laughed from relief when she found herself far away from that God forsaken place with Leon, Claire and Sherry on her side.

No. The aftermath wasn't happy and it definitely wasn't fun. It was sad, insufferable and painful.

The mornings were alright - she didn't have any problems with those, especially when she could talk to either Leon or Claire, or take care of Sherry. But the nights - the nights were horrible and the first few after the incident were the worst.

She saw hoards of the undead in her dreams, attacking her or killing the people she cared about. She heard the noises of the lickers and the turned dogs, but the worst were the loud steps, making the walls and the ground she was standing on shake.

On the first night she relived the journalist's death so vividly, she didn't know where she was when she woke up. She saw him backing away and then the strong arm of the tyrant pushed through the concrete wall, it grabbed his head and crushed it like it was nothing. She remembered how the blood dripped down to the floor, how his eyes popped out of their places and how they were hanging out of his eye sockets, only a few weak muscles keeping them attached to his body.

When she woke up she couldn't breath, her chest was heavy, her throat felt both tight and dry and she was crying, the tears quickly running down her cheeks. She didn't know where she was or who she was, her mind was too far gone, still living in the world of the nightmare, not finding the way back to reality.

Two sudden hands on her shoulders pushed her back to the present, to the dirty motel room with the lights on, but with the curtains closed.

"Hey, hey! It's okay, it was just a nightmare! You're safe, I'm here. Do you hear me?" Leon's voice was full of fear, but he did his best not to panic as he tried to calm her down. His words made her breathing slow down and she felt like she can get some fresh air in her lungs again. "You have to take a big breath with me, okay? In and out." She followed his instructions as he brushed a few locks of hair out of her face, which got stuck to her forehead from the sweat. "Again- breath in... and out." He made eye contact with her, making sure she's feeling better. "You can calm down, it was just a bad dream."

She nodded, now understanding the situation she found herself in.

"Thank you." her mouth felt dry as she said those two words out loud.

"You have nothing to say thank you for." Leon smiled at her reassuringly. "Do you feel better now?"

She just nodded again, not trusting her voice this time. Leon backed away and sat down next to her on the bed.

She felt awkward as she sat up, leaning against the bedframe as she pulled the duvets to the side, because she felt like she was burning alive under them. She hugged her knees to her chest as she looked at Leon again.

"You can talk about it if you want to. I had one too, you know... a nightmare."

She stayed quiet as she thought about what to do, but then her strength to keep all the fear in herself broke.

"I had a dream about the journalist's- about Ben's death... It was like I- relived that moment, you know. When the tyrant killed him." she explained as a shiver run through her spine at the memories. "What was yours about?"

"That we never made it out alive." he started. "That every one of you died right before the finish line and when I tried to get back to you I got attacked as well."

"I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"I don't know." she answered after she realized how stupid it would be to apologize for the whole Raccoon City incident, when it wasn't her fault - nor their fault at all. "For scaring you because of some shitty dream I had... For what happened or- I don't know."

"It's not your fault. You can't do anything against the dreams you have and I'm sure you did your absolute best in Raccoon City. We all did."

They smiled at each other, but it was a very broken, pitiful smile.

"I'll always be here if you want to talk about, you know- what happened."

"The same goes for you." she said. "Where are the others? Claire and Sherry?"

"Claire wanted to get something to eat and Sherry wanted to go with her. You fell asleep so I didn't want to leave you alone." Leon explained and then added jokingly: "And then I fell asleep as well so I guess we were both too tired to care about food. They should be back in a few minutes."

"Thanks for staying with me."

Leon just smiled and then stood up, walking towards the only table the cheap motel room had.

"Claire was able to get some tea from that nice lady at reception. Do you want some? I mean, it's already cold, but-"

"It's perfect. Thank you."

A few moments later they were both sitting on her bed, drinking that ice cold tea as they made sure the other was feeling better after half a night full of nightmares. Neither of them knew how important that little gesture will be in their shared future.

•••

The already full jar of trauma

The moment she heard Leon's voice from his bedroom, she was up, her bare feet were on the cold floor, not caring about what she had on or how low the temperature in their apartment was. Her reflexes, which became quite sharp after that horrible night, acted on their own accord, and the next thing she knew she was running to her flatmate's bedroom, not bothering to knock.

Just like she thought - Leon's body was sweaty and he was tossing and turning in his bed with an uncomfortable look on his face. All the tiredness was gone from her eyes as she sat down next to him on his bed and put one of her hands on his chest while the other was gently caressing his face.

"Leon?" she spoke up kindly, her voice rough from sleeping beforehand. "Leon, please wake up! It's just a dream. Leon?"

He suddenly opened his eyes as he sat up so quickly she had to lean back so he won't bump into her.

"It's okay!" she tried to reassure him as she touched his arm. "It was just a bad dream."

He looked at her, his eyes teary from both dream and sleep and the next thing she knew, he hugged her, his arms keeping her in place tightly, afraid to let go.

She was shocked at first, that moment being the first time ever he hugged her or was that close to her, but she didn't complain. She knew how bad a nightmare can be, how bad of a reaction it can get out of someone. So she hugged him back and stroked his arm as his breathing became more even.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she said, her face still pressed against his shoulder.

She felt him swallow.

"Do you remember Marvin?" he asked even though he knew the answer.

Marvin was still a fresh wound and a painful topic - especially the way he died and the why he died. The man was a hero; he saved them from getting eaten and he gave them the right weapons and best gear they could ever find.

She nodded, but the memories still hurt.

"I had a dream about him."

"I'm sorry. You had to shoot him because of me."

It was true and she'll probably always feel guilty because of it. It was her fault - her fault that Leon had to shoot him dead and with that add to the already full jar of trauma.

She wasn't careful and let the turned Marvin attack her. His hands were already on her and if Leon doesn't react quickly, he would've bit her right in the neck.

"It wasn't your fault." Leon said and after taking a long breath he continued: "He was already gone. It was between you and him, and he was already gone."

Even if it was a painful topic, she knew she can be thankful that Leon was there and acted quickly.

"Thank you for being there that day." she said after she pushed Leon back so she can look him in the eye. "But you can't blame yourself either. I hope you know that."

He nodded, silently saying that he does.

"Are you tired?" he asked.

"Not anymore, no."

"We can watch something if you want to."

"Yeah." she answered, knowing none of them would be able to fall sleep again. "That would be great. A shitty comedy would be great."

•••

Keep on talking

She was so tired she felt like she could cry at any little thing - yet sleep stayed far away from her. It didn't want to come, it didn't want to give her what she needs and covets.

Her whole body hurt from that morning's obstacle training and hand-to-hand combat - both lessons left cuts and purple, blue or even yellow bruises on her arms, legs and stomach. Her muscles were aching, screaming for even a few hours of sleep, but both the sleep and dreams stayed away.

"Are you still up?"

Leon's question was so sudden in the darkness that it gave her heart an ache from fear, her heartbeat becoming faster.

They shared a bunk bed together. Leon chose the lower part so she owned the upper one - but deep down she knew Leon made that decision so he can look out for her and be her guard dog until the end of the damn training.

"Yeah." she whispered back, not wanted to wake up the others.

"You can't sleep?"

"Exactly, but I want to." her voice became high pitched, so she had to swallow to keep the tears back. "God, I really want to."

Leon whispered her name, his voice was full of worry and that was what broke the dam. The tears started to fall from both mental and physical pain, tiredness.

"Are you okay?"

She didn't answer. She couldn't without waking the others up, knowing her voice would be rough and high pitched.

She heard him pull the duvet to the side, she was sure he sat up on his bed. Then his bare feet made contact with the floor and in the next moment she could see Leon's face as he grabbed the side of her bed. His expression was full of sadness.

"Do you want to sleep next to me tonight?" he asked quietly, gently touching her hand.

She nodded.

"Come here..."

She did her best to stay silent as she wiped away her tears and then climbed down, her arms shaking as she did so. Leon was there to help her, holding her, keeping his hand on her back as support.

When she was down he turned her towards himself, wiped the remaining tears away and gently stroked a bruise on her collarbone. She only then noticed that he had a few bruises himself as well, a purple one hiding right under his jaw, but she could still see it in the moonlight.

"Who did you fight with?"

"Why, you want to beat him up?" he asked teasingly, trying to crack a joke.

She didn't giggle, caring about his health and well being too much to take it as a joke.

"Of course I want to."

"You can have one guess." he sighed.

"Krauser?"

"Who else?"

"What an asshole." she whispered.

"What about you? Who do I have to beat up?"

"You can have one guess." she quoted him. "I had hand-to-hand combat right after you."

Leon didn't say anything to that, he only stroked her cheek reassuringly and then gestured towards his bed. She lay down on his bed and tried to find a position where she leaves place for Leon as well. He joined her moments later and pulled the duvet over the two of them.

"Try to rest, okay? You need it." he whispered.

"I know." she started. "I just got to a point where I'm too tired to fall asleep."

"Do you want me to keep on talking?"

"If you want to."

One of his hands found her waist and pulled her shirt down to cover her skin, and then through the material he started to draw different shapes into her. First a square, then a circle, a triangle, a star and then a smiley face.

"Did I tell you that Claire called right before we had to come here?" he asked.

"No."

"Well she did. She told me all about what she wants to do" she closed her eyes as he started to talk. "and about who she met. She asked about us. She was surprised that we became flatmates, joking that that's how dumb romance books start..."

She fell asleep right after that, her mind finally finding peace at his words. What she didn't realize was how she was admired while she was sleeping and how well Leon slept next to her that night.

That was the first time they asked themselves if they are really just friends or something more.

•••

You'll always have Prince Charming, cariño

Their first night together as a couple shouldn't go like this - with this heavy, burning feeling inside their chests.

The well known feeling of guilt made that night harder than ever. It's been a while since they were this afraid of falling asleep and it wasn't easy to get used to again, even if they both got a routine for those nights.

Taking a shower, getting dressed for bed, cooking dinner and then watching something on the TV - trying to do everything slowly to avoid going to sleep, trying to keep their eyes open so they can concentrate on the crappy movie, trying to not think about who they lost.

"We should go to bed or you'll fall asleep on the couch." Leon was the first to break the silence and the tension in the air.

They were both watching some stupid comedy on the TV, but while Leon was sitting with tired eyes, she was resting her head on his thigh. Her eyes closed a few minutes ago and she almost fell asleep when he spoke up.

"I don't want to." she started. "I'll have nightmares and I really can't deal with them tonight."

Leon's hand started to stroke her back and she sighed - being there with him gave her a peace of mind, but it also made her really sleepy.

"I know what you mean - but we have to give it a try. We've been a through a lot and we need to rest."

"I know. I just-" she sat up so she can look at him. "I just don't want to relive Luis' death... I just can't."

Leon looked at her like she said the exact thing he had been feeling and thinking about. He gave her a sad smile and took her hand in his, drawing the usual shapes into her skin with his thumb.

"Luis didn't deserve to die." she continued, trying to get everything what hurts off of her chest. "Even if he was always flirting or being annoying; he was nice. And he was really trying to do the right thing."

"And he was your biggest supporter." Leon added with a small, honest smile.

"No, he was our biggest supporter." she corrected him, letting out a giggle as she remembered all the things he said to her. "He was trying to make me see what our relationship truly is- that what you and I have is more than friendship."

"He was right, wasn't he?"

She nodded and the smile she had disappeared as she got back to reality. To the reality where Luis Serra is dead no matter how hard she tried to save his life.

She thought about the memories she shares with Leon and realized that no matter what they do or where they go, they always meet with tragedy and death. Those things overshadow their relationship and its development, not letting them fully enjoy what they have.

Luis would've loved to see their confession. He would've loved to see their faces when they realize they both feel the same way about the other. He would've wanted them to be happy.

Even if it's hard to be happy and smile.

What would he say? Something cheesy and romantic. Something like: You'll always have Prince Charming to make you smile even on hard days, cariño.

And he'd be right. She'll always smile when she sees Leon. She'll always laugh at his jokes. She'll get through everything if he's by her side.

"All right." she spoke up suddenly, making Leon stop his movements. "We can try and get some sleep- together."

"Together." he agreed and then leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead.

God, Luis would be smirking with that proud, annoying smirk of his.

A few moments later they were cuddling under the duvets in Leon's room; her head was on his chest as he was stroking her back. She didn't dare to close her eyes yet, but she enjoyed the closeness with her lover.

Lover, she thought. It's good they had Luis to make them see they are better lovers than friends.

That's how she should remember him. Luis Serra, the best wingman the world has ever known. The bravest, kindest wingman the world has ever known.

"Leon?" she spoke up in the darkness as she closed her eyes.

"Yes? Is something wrong?"

"No. There's nothing wrong. Everything is fine when I'm with you." she explained when she heard the fear in his voice. "I just wanted to say I love you."

For a moment Leon's heartbeat and breathing changed, and his hand stopped.

"I love you too, darling. Now try to get some sleep, okay?"

"Promise me you'll wake me up if you have a nightmare..."

"I promise, but the same goes for you."

Leon pressed one last kiss to the back of her hand and then they both closed their eyes, trying to enjoy the other's presence, knowing they don't have to be afraid of nightmares. Not when they have the other.

•••

[kirbybecomesastarwarrior]

To Lady Celestine, from Magopon

Bonjour, I suppose? I don’t really think I know you yet so.. I was wondering, why not do an info exchange with each other I guess. Though I do know about you and Arthur. I do think it’s cute. So my barrage of questions starts now. First question, how did you get to know each other? Second, what is your favorite misadventure? Third, what do you like about Arthur, don’t think that I can’t see you two being lovey dovey. Well, I suppose I should keep my end. Things to know about me: I was the feared (yet cute) ogre of Kitakami. Next, uh let’s see, umm… Oh! I’m with Meta! And um, probably the easiest to provoke within my group I suppose. Well that’s all, I guess. Signing out, Magolor! -Magolor/Ogerpon

Such wonderful questions~

They don't deserve merely simple answers, how about a story instead

Truth be told my acts of vigilantism weren't for the fame or the glory... it was to atone what had happened to Shiver Star. Had I not told Absolum & Uther my vision...

Shiver Star wouldn't have had an... even worse fate than I had originally seen... Then I started to question everything... I had come to find out that all my visions of warning were ignored (by other Heroes of Yore & the Ancients) unless there was a benefit to them.

They didn't care about people who suffered from their acts, unlike them, I could see them... I could feel their pain too... I couldn't help but think that I had made everyone's life worse...

Until one day I just had enough.... I was done crying over my mistakes... I had to do something!

So the moment Triple Star was created I vowed I'd make up for all the damage I did with my visions. I'd "my future sight" to hunt down Nightmares monsters before they'd even had the chance to do any harm. I'd use my magic & alchemy to fix all the damage the GSA did to civilian planets.

(Basically, she did the same thing of what Edward did here but in secret)

But I will admit I did have my own little fun when I was out there as well...played a practical joke here or there swindled some swindlers... unleashed a hoard of flying pigs every time I played a prank but you get the idea.

My actions did go unnoticed... people could tell that someone in the night was fixing their homes & cities. Someone was taking out the monster even before Uther's soldiers (and Sir Uther didn't like that.) All they knew was a mysterious old mage wearing a blue cloak was helping them.

The people were starting to rely on me... I didn't want that to happen.

I wanted to stay anonymous but with how things were going to be difficult to hide myself for very long... there was another problem I was not long for the world

But that was around when I got Kirby's prediction.

There was a glimmer of hope left in the galaxy... Nightmare terror against the galaxy would end along with the Ancients & Uther's reign would end however there was a catch...

For those of you who haven't read (The Wart of Them All)

My visions were vague in nature but this one carried the most uncertainty.... I had no idea what wild goose chase this vision was leading me on... especially after I saw all my options...

I just needed to find the match; it didn't tell me how they fit into Kirby's prediction, nor what role they played in all this. But I did know this... I WAS NOT GOING TO MAKE THE SAME MISTAKE AGAIN AND TRUST ANYONE WITH MY KNOWLEDGE!

I needed to exhaust every avenue and be sure I was making the right choice... So I had to reveal myself to them as "Merlyn."

Actually, I didn't name myself Merlyn just yet... that'll have to come up in the next part.

To be continued~

Prev. ((The Wart of Them All) -

Next. ("The Start of Something Great")

@kirbyoctournament

Shoutout to @poyoofthestars Thank you so much for giving me such a great question it gives me all the power to lore dump!

I know what it looks like I did this on purpose: (For you those of you who aren't familiar with the Pokemon games: at the start of your journey you are given three choices as you're starter )

Basically, what Celestine was doing was choosing "the right starter Pokemon... to kick start Kirby's journey." But the main difference is that if she chooses the wrong one the galaxy is royally screwed! OUR GIRL WAS UNDER A LOT OF PRESSURE

Also, another fun lore dump Celestine never actually called herself Merlyn... it was actually Arthur who accidentally named her Merlyn.

Hope you guys enjoyed it see you in the next part.

[yellowocaballero]

isgbtw?

This is the story I am working on right now! It's the Immortal!Gojo story. It was inspired by a misconception, and the very concrete idea that Gojo seemed to understand what a high school was exclusively through television. The center of it is Geto and Gojo, but I don't really respect Geto as a person, so whenever I write Geto/Gojo it always ends up....uh, interesting.

A little bit for you:

Gojo identified the problem quickly.

Granted, this was partly because he created the problem. That was Geto’s stance, and Gojo reliably found Geto fairly wise for his age. Gojo argued that the Council of Elders had basically committed suicide by proxy by aggravating him. Geto had said that there was no use arguing that sentence, which Gojo interpreted as admitting that he was right. 

“The world of sorcerers has a manpower problem,” Gojo said, sloshing around his imported tea in his finely painted cup. Servants skittered around the edges of the courtyard, heads ducked. Civil servants and advisors pressed their ears against paper doors. Holding this meeting in the Gojo clan compounds would have been less ostentatious, but it wouldn’t have been as fun. “Sorcerers are always dropping like flies, and our noble families constantly waste burgeoning talent in their own families. We kill each other in constant infighting and do the curse’s job for them. It’s just a waste.”

Geto just sipped his tea, prim and unflappable. He could walk into any room and make himself seem like he belonged. Gojo had hoped that walking into the Emperor’s palace as if he owned the place and casually using his private tea garden would impress him just a little, but he barely blinked. “Agreed. Murdering each other through infighting is certainly a waste.”

“Suicide by proxy.”

“As you say, Gojo-sama.”

“I do say,” Gojo said, a little huffily. He jabbed a finger at Geto, who only raised a single eyebrow. “You’re part of the reason I began thinking of this at all, you know. How many incredible talents like yours slipped completely past us just because there was no sorcerer in their boring village to train them?”

Quietly, Geto muttered, “Or because their boring village killed them for being different.”

Geto had barely survived his own village, which was one of the funnier origin stories Gojo had heard lately. “And what happens if the civilian-born sorcerer does manage to survive and find a community of sorcerers? They’re shunned! The powerful turn up their nose, call them garbage, and treat them like burakumin. The amount of valuable sorcerers we’ve lost to pride, exclusivity - the elders just feel threatened by newcomers, you know. They were threatened by you. If it wasn’t for me, nobody would have ever picked you up and trained you.”

Geto sipped his tea. “I’m very grateful.”

“Of course you are, I saved your life. And you made me think about how many more lives I could save.” Gojo leaned forward, tilting his head and flashing a winning grin. Geto arched a second eyebrow patiently. “I can only take so many apprentices at once. Teaching children one or two at a time is just too slow. So do you know what my idea was?”

“What was your idea, Gojo-sama?”

Gojo leaned back, adjusting his loose kimono and gesturing vaguely in the air. A servant dived in instantly, bowing her head and topping up their cups of half-drunk matcha. Those Tokugawas really hoarded all of the good stuff.  “I’m going to found a monastery. An active, worldly monastery, in the heart of this new capital. The first generation of the Sect of Gojo! What do you think! Doesn’t that have a nice ring to it?”

Disappointingly, Geto just looked amused. He was impossible to impress these days. He had been far more impressionable a few years ago. He acclimated to Gojo quicker than most. Most sorcerers had known him their entire lives, and a few reds and blues were still enough to dazzle them. Not Geto. He was a unique boy. “With you in the place of the Buddha, I presume?”

“Obviously.”

“Say that a little louder, Gojo-sama. I’m interested.”

“Anything to amuse my ferocious student.” Gojo cleared his throat, raising his voice until he could be heard clearly across the entire courtyard. Knowing the impressive sound of his own voice, probably much further. Maybe even the Emperor was listening? “Gojo Satoru is the next Buddha! He possesses the mandate of heaven!” The words echoed across the courtyard, and Gojo waited patiently for the sound to die down. If Geto thought that the Emperor might pop up to - what, scold them? He was sorely disappointed. “See? Nothing happened. You’ll be my first student, right?”

“I’m already your student.”

“You can be my first priest. Never mind, priests are a pain. It’s not about the monastery aspect, Geto. I don’t care about that. Being worshiped grows dull quickly. I want to train the next generation of new sorcerers.” Gojo broke into a smile, jabbing a finger at Geto. This was the fine point on the idea. This would really interest him. “I’ll train those who the old clans won’t touch. Any undesirable, any rejected or exiled progeny, any commoner-born sorcerer - I’ll take anybody who nobody else wants. And they’ll all be loyal only to me. What do you think?”

Strangely, Gojo found himself holding his breath. Geto didn’t outwardly react or say anything for a long time. He just took a sip of his tea, eyes closed in thought. Geto waited until five exact seconds before Gojo’s patience wore out before he spoke. 

“It sounds perfect, Gojo-sama.”

Gojo beamed. Mission accomplished. Geto wasn’t a completely controllable factor - a compliant one, yes, but not controllable - so he always felt accomplished whenever he successfully made him do or feel something. It wasn’t even a guarantee: sometimes Gojo entered a conversation with Geto meaning to convince him of one thing, only for the conversation to end turned around on its head with Gojo believing something completely different instead. It was mostly fascinating and occasionally annoying. 

“So you’ll join, yes?” 

Geto replaced his cooling cup on the tea table. A carefully manicured stream coursed in front of them, and shafts of bamboo waved in a cool wind. It was a good day to co-opt the Emperor’s palace. One ought to take tea with their favorite apprentices when possible. They wouldn’t be around forever. 

“Of course I will. You aren’t done training me yet, are you?”

“You have a lot left to learn.” Gojo mock-wagged a finger at him. “I won’t let you go until you reach your full potential, Geto. You could approach my power one day. People like you shouldn’t go to waste just because others feel threatened by you. You’re too entertaining.”

Geto smiled, eyes creasing shut. “I hope to continue entertaining you for a long time, Master.”

“That’s what I like to hear!”

It hadn’t been for Geto. It had been for Gojo. Geto had only given him the idea - shown him how talented the overlooked could be. He had seen too many driven, intelligent, and kind children reduced to servitude within their clans for the crime of being ‘untalented’. 

A good master could take even the lowest potential student and make them a powerful sorcerer. By throwing out children with low potential, the other masters were just admitting their limitations and incompetencies. Gojo - who had no limitations, no incompetencies - would always be capable of doing what they were too short-sighted to even see could be done. Gojo operated on a different plane of existence, and within his six sights he could see the long centuries stretching out before them. 

The curses were only growing in strength. The world of the sorcerers could not afford to cannibalize forever. Through weakening themselves by tearing out their own flesh, they would be consumed. And the sorcerers would…and Geto would…

Maybe Geto had a little to do with it. Maybe it had been for Geto just a little bit: to assuage his troubled heart, his nightly confessions that he couldn’t watch any more sorcerers die. Gojo didn’t tell him that for a very long time. But Gojo was sure that Geto had always known anyway. 

Geto was a little omniscient like that. Of course, not as omniscient as Gojo. 

[franki-lew-yo]

Let everybody be messy

So Primos is coming out in a few days. It looks bland (I've never seen Loud House or Casagrandes); mostly I'm still mad at how the main voice actress spoke about the controversy. There is, however 'good for children' it may be, one thing that stood out to me about this show and what it was being criticized for and that's the backgrounds.

Tater and her family have a very messy, unkept house. Not hoarder bad but messy. Among the talk of the show being racist and making latinos look bad, this was one talking point I remember people harping on: that the messy house was demeaning to hispanic people and made them look ''dirty''.

The thing is, while I don't condone things like unsafe plugs being shown on screen, I myself have grown up in and around a lot of messy homes. I don't think it's inherent strike against the show to have the reality of messy homes be a part of the visuals - or, to put it another way, I think it's sad that me and my white family can be messy and get nothing for it but a latino home gets deemed 'gross' or 'unsanitary' for the same thing. Messy homes happen. Especially when you are busy and ESPECIALLY if you have kids.

My paternal grandma was a dean of graduate studies at a university. It was a prestigious job and she was the matriarch of our family because of it, but she did NOT have gigantic house. She was busy grading essays, dissertations and finals in her room all day. She also had SEVEN kids and lots of grandkids who were all trying but unable to truly clean after themselves all the time so the house was always cluttered. Because she was always so busy and so was every one of her children, we didn't eat luxurious things and her kitchen was especially wrecked.

I don't have pictures, but to put it a different way I'm not ashamed of that reality. It wasn't hoarding, it was just what being in a house owned by that person and filled up with my whole family was like.

My grandma was Polish-American. I just find it sad that for any non-white family this real-but-expected outcome of living is seen as making you look bad. That's just not fair.

There's a lot of things that should be seen as universally quirky or just part of living that I see people of color get judged for. (cw: non-mutilated but still very much human-corpse) Caitlyn Doughty did a whole video about it with a rapper who wanted his body propped up like he was DJing at his funeral. A white biker got to be buried on his bike; it's unfair that we see it as 'creepy' or 'gross' if a BIPOC person does it. It's not creepy and gross. There are customs in world cultures that ought to die because they are bad for everyone (Russia and circus bears; east Asia and Ikizukuri, cockfighting anywhere, America and rattlesnake roundups, something that's not animal-related but I'm stuck on the animal ones rn sorry, ect) but then there are customs which are not fair to judge or rule as evil because they aren't 'yours'. In other news, water is wet. And, if it isn't customs, it's double standards.

Let everyone be their own trashy. You don't know their lives. Leave people with messy homes alone. If it's not hoarding or distinctly unsafe it's not fair of you to judge. And if it being grubby or messy around a person's home leads you to think less of them as people and as a culture, get a life! That's a you problem!

[hildegardladyofbones]

It is so fucking baffling how little care people have when talking about the ussr, even when they're the same people that are super respectful about imperialism, genocide, etc. Not saying they shouldn't be, I'm just wondering where it all goes when the soviet union comes up. Like sure, we're white people, the world isn't systemically against us, not arguing against that, but that doesn't erase the 51 years of dictatorship that we had to live under.

People that barely even know what was happening behind the iron curtain make jokes about stalin, lenin and brežnev. Whenever someone said the word "us" the replies were always "*communism intesifies*", though luckily thay trend seemed to die out. It was disrespectful nevertheless. And if you're from an ex soviet country and say that you don't mind them, good for you, idc. Your opinion doesn't invalidate mine. This not a joking matter. I'm not calling you a bad person if you like those jokes, but the discussion about what was going on is seemingly non existent and we need to have it! People need to at least be aware when they talk about these topics!

I may not have lived through it, but my mom, and her mom did. My grandma has serious hoarding problems now because of the trauma of not having anything. People were afraid to help each other because if you help the wrong person you'll get labeled a traitor. You couldn't escape because you would ruin the life for people that you left behind, because if a family member was against the system then you couldn't get permits for buying cars, let alone moving. There were fucking book burnings. People got sent to siberia for looking at someone wrong. And this is just the tip of the iceberg.

What it was was not communism, it was a dictatorship. So don't call me an anti communist. Instead of doing that, pick up the beauty of history by viivi luik. The English translation is free on the Internet archive. If you can get on your hands on it, read the seventh spring of piece and pay attention because that book you have to read in between the lines.

Tl;Dr respect my (and other people's countries') country's trauma and learn what the school didn't teach you because there's no way that this disrespect would exist if people knew.

[bethany-sensei]

Y’all voted yes and now no one can stop me, so

Welcome to Pride Month 2024 featuring my

Weird Queer Characters

As today is International Aromantic Visibility Day, I’m going to talk about one of my favorite aros

Tempest:

Hahaha, Tempest is a study in how overpowered a character can get without breaking the narrative, and his answer is “it doesn’t matter if he has all the magic all the time more than that I really meant all, as long as he’s far too lazy to cause problems with it.” The thing with Tempest and magic is 1.) it got him out of a very bad situation when he was very young, so always learning every new type of magic he encounters is a trauma response, and 2.) the first type of magic he mastered was time magic. Since what humans* have the potential to learn is limited mainly by their lifespan in this setting, Tempest basically unlocked the ultimate cheat code to becoming the worlds’ most terrifying sorcerer**, and occasionally the people around him get reminded of that.

Nobody actually named him Tempest, he came back from nowhere with no social skills and a strong need of a new name. Someone misheard him, and he decided to keep it. Afterward he met Caspar, a prince who was on the run from assassins at the time. Tempest became Caspar’s bodyguard, Caspar did a decent job of domesticating Tempest, and the rest is history.

Tempest is somewhat romance repulsed but likes to joke about it (he openly calls his friends gross for doing romantic stuff). He has an expanding polycule and a wing kink. He tears pieces off of people who try to hurt anyone he considers his. (So not 100% domesticated, no.)

Tempest has appeared in four volumes so far.

*he starts out human and has an out-of-species experience, which happens in Balances

**he argues against being called a sorcerer, since he hoards magic and never uses it professionally

[penny00dreadful]

Return of The King - Part 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 AO3

Eddie closed the back door quietly behind him and sat down in one of the lawn chairs, tipping his head up and staring at the scattered passing clouds as he smoked.

He could hear muffled conversation and an awful lot of tears from the house behind him and it nearly made him want to cry himself. There was so much relief filling him up both from Steve being back and finally getting to do what he’d been planning to do to him since he first got to know him but also that the healing within the Fellowship could begin. He just hoped it didn’t damage anyone further.

He had no idea how he was going to do it. How the both of them were going to do it. How on earth were they going to tell all these extremely broken people that the reason they were broken wasn't a reason anymore. That he was back? And how were they going to explain that he was back different but not bad? 

It could go so very wrong.

But maybe it would be enough comfort to them to know that Robin was talking again. Hell, not even just that she was talking again but that she was even… conscious again. That she was existing in the world again rather than around it.

He must have been ruminating in his own head for at least a half an hour vacillating in between smoking and worrying about the fallout of all this and watching the clouds and feeling that giggly excitement that comes with a new relationship and all the things they had left to do to each other and experience together when the door creaked open behind him and a pair of thin arms wound their way around his shoulders.

“You’ve been hoarding him.” Robin’s voice came soft and thick from the floods of tears she’d no doubt shared with Steve inside.

“Hoarding, Buckley?” He reached up to grasp her wrist. His heart was soaring. It was so good to hear her voice again. “I wouldn’t call it that. Though I suspect my Stevie exclusivity is coming to an end now that he has you back in his life.”

She hummed into his hair and tightened her arms around him, gently rocking the two of them back and forth as much as she could without toppling them over. “If I was gonna share him with anyone, I’m happy for it to be you.”

Eddie smiled to himself and tipped his head back onto her shoulder. “Awh, you’re gonna make me all misty eyed.”

“Join the club,” she let out a wet laugh, rubbing her eyes against his shirt, “it’s what the rest of us are doing.”

“Where is the man of the hour anyway?”

“He’s giving us space to say my ‘thank yous’ for taking care of me and everyone else for the last month or whatever.” 

“Ah.”

“So like, thanks or whatever.” She whispered, her levity coming through clearly despite her humour.

“Not a problem, Buckaroo.”

She gave him one last squeeze and placed a kiss against the side of his head before disappearing back inside.

Eddie followed not long after, desperate for a shower and to finally get back into his own jeans. The pair he was wearing last night hadn’t been his favourite but they were a worthy sacrifice especially considering just how they were destroyed. How Steve's supernaturally strong hands had effortlessly gripped onto the tough denim and ripped them clean in two right below him, all the little noises he'd managed to work out of him with his tongue and his hips as he'd slowly, torturously slowly, sunk in-

He turned the shower water icy cold, he needed to keep his head clear for the next few hours ahead and he definitely wouldn’t be able to do that if the only think that was knocking around his brain was the continued idea of fucking around with Steve.

When he came back downstairs, he and Robin sat Steve down and tried to summarise everything that had happened in the last month. The complete and utter fuckery that the California crew went through, Joyce and Murray’s little vacation to the Soviet Union where, oh yeah, Hopper was alive but imprisoned, the cracks in the earth that had split the second Steve died, inadvertently saving Max from mutilation, the wide open gates that creatures would crawl through every so often, the fact that Hawkins was half abandoned, his parents…

It was a lot to take in and Steve took it all surprisingly well, almost like he’d been waiting for some catastrophic events to hit Hawkins for a few years now.

The next challenge that was presented to him was just how they were going to tell everyone. If they just sprung Steve on them out of nowhere it would be disastrous. They could all collapse into grief, they could run scared, they could attack him, believing him to be some fucked up trick of Vecna’s, there was so many things that could go wrong.

At the very least Wayne was going to be out of the house for the rest of the day so he couldn’t accidentally get caught in the crossfire.

Eddie sat at his kitchen table bouncing his leg so quickly his whole body was jiggling. Robin and Steve had helped him write out what to tell the others over the walkie to get them to arrive.

It wasn’t easy.

He needed them to know that it wasn’t a world ending Code Red but at the same time wasn’t it? Steve was back and that was a huge thing on its own but definitely didn’t warrant sending them all into a blind panic and putting them on edge, especially when the thing that was waiting for them was enough to implode everyone in the worst ways possible if handled incorrectly.

So he had to tell them it was urgent without skyrocketing everyone’s collective stress levels.

“Eds, it’ll be fine.” Steve tried to soothe him as the three of them sat waiting. He had a gentle grip on the back of Eddie’s neck, rubbing his thumb in small circles. It wasn’t working. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Eddie and Robin shared a look for a long moment while Steve glanced between them.

“Okay, I don’t love this,” he said, pointing to each of them in turn, “whatever this is.”

“D’you think you’d be able to dodge a bullet if it came down to that, Stevie?” Eddie asked from behind his hair with his head hung low.

“Nance wouldn’t shoot me.”

“Yes she would.” They answered at the same time.

“She’s gonna think you’re some Vecna trick like I did.”

Robin nodded, agreeing. “Yeah, and you can’t fuck the doubt out of her like you did with Eddie.”

Eddie lifted his head just a fraction to glare at her but she didn’t back down, just raised her eyebrow.

“That’s not what happened.”

“No?”

“No, I wouldn’t have let him fuck me if I still thought he was the spawn of Satan.”

Robin scoffed with a cheeky smirk on her face. “That’s a lie. But maybe it’ll be Hopper who’ll try to shoot you, Steve.” She blinked innocently over to him. “You could try to fuck some sense into him?”

“Robin.” Steve hissed, his whole face turning red.

“You had a thing for Hopper?” Eddie couldn’t help the shit eating grin that started to pull at his mouth, quickly joined by Robin as Steve tried to glare at the two of them with as much venom as possible.

“You never heard those words come out of my mouth.”

“No, but Robbie insinuated which is as good as a confession.”

“I hate the both of you.”

Eddie and Robin shot to their feet, cooing and crowding around Steve, squeezing him tight in between the two of them with a downight dramatic level of sarcastic comfort and affection. Steve just scowled harder but wormed his arms around the two of them squeezing back, unable to hide the upward curl at the corner of his mouth.

They only broke away from their mocking ‘you love us’ ‘you looooove uuusss’ when they both felt Steve tense under their arms.

“They’re here.”

Eddie shot to his feet, his adrenaline and anxiety coursing through his whole body. He needed to move, he needed to get it all out somehow. Fuck this was it. Everything was about to change. Again.

God, it could all go so wrong.

But it could be so good too.

It could fix everything.

“Are you hidden?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. Only you and Robin can see me.”

“Okay good, you know them, they'll just burst in-”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the front door was thrown open and a gaggle of teenagers spilled into his hallway. Eddie felt a short kiss be pressed to the back of his head, just a silent reminder I’m here before he took a deep breath in and tried to steady himself as best he could.

There wasn’t the usual noise and chaos that used to be so normal with the kids, there were no childish arguments or rapid fire discussions. They filed into his house quietly and without bluster, each finding a spot to sit around the dining table or lean against a kitchen cabinet looking at him expectantly, barely sending a glance in Robin’s direction who had marginally retreated back into herself. Whether it was the pressure of the situation or so many people around he didn’t know. He couldn’t really blame her or the group for their reactions.

Steve was staring around at all of them with wide eyes, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. But instead of any kind of delight or smugness or smart remark about finally getting them to quieten down, he looked heartbroken. Like he hadn’t realised just how changed everyone was.

“Well?” Nancy snapped. Short and eager to get to the point as she always was these days and Eddie could never hold it against her.

He realised he’d been watching Steve’s reaction too closely. It probably looked like he was staring off into space while they all filled in around him. 

So he took a deep breath in and began.

“Okay, uh,” he started to thread his fingers through his hair, picking out individual curls and twisting them, anything to keep his hands occupied, “it’s not bad news. It’s actually good news, or it might not be good news depending on how you view it and how we had to get here, but it’s news! I’m gonna be honest, I’m having a bit of trouble trying to figure out how to tell you all because it’s gonna be really hard to swallow at first-“

“Eddie.” Dustin interrupted, his voice lacking its youthful energy and his face as grim as it had been for the last month. “Does Robin really need to be here for this?”

Robin startled at the mention of her name and seemed confused for a second. Eddie supposed it was a fair question, Robin hadn’t exactly been present in the last month and the rest had mostly gotten used to talking like she wasn’t in the room. Most of the time she wasn’t, really.

Eddie looked over at her along with Dustin who’s eyes widened at the sight of any emotion on her face apart from blank despair.

She looked up to meet Eddie’s eyes and gave a small nod. The whole room seemed to have caught the tiny movement, automatically straightening up and becoming much more engaged. Because if it was something that had the power to pull Robin out of the pit of her mind, it must be something extreme.

“Get on with it.”

“I’m trying, Nance, but this is actually very nerve wracking-”

Nancy glared at him, hard and cold. None of the warmth he’d seen in her before was present now and it hadn’t been for a while. She crossed her arms before speaking in a very stern tone of voice.

“Eddie, I don’t have time to waste with this bull-” she stopped herself short, swallowing harshly before continuing, “with this nonsense. So just-”

“It’s Steve.” He blurted out before he could stop himself, sudden and loud and impossibly catastrophic.

Silence crashed in around all of them in the wake of his statement, filled with so much tension he could feel it tingling against his skin. They were all staring at him, some with anger, some with devastation and some with just blank expressions that hurt more than anything.

The sound of a chair scraping against his tiled floor screeched loudly through the kitchen, almost too loud to bear. Dustin stood and without a backwards glance, began to walk away.

Eddie opened his mouth to call after him, his heart breaking in two but before he could say anything a voice made itself known from behind him.

“Dustin!” Steve called out to him, cracking through the air in the kitchen like a hammer against stone. 

The air was sucked out of the room like they’d all entered a vacuum chamber. Dustin stopped dead and the silence that permeated around all of them felt both fragile and immovable at the same time. 

The delicate click of a gun being cocked echoed around them and there was a heartbeat where nothing happened before the room erupted into chaos.

Eddie whipped around but it wasn’t Nancy that had drawn her weapon, it was Hopper. He couldn't even make the appropriate salacious jokes at Steve's expense about that because such a panic had gripped him at the room's collective response, he found himself frozen solid. 

This wasn't going well.

Shit.

Shit!

Robin threw herself in between Steve and Hopper with her hands out, screaming at him to wait! 

Everyone else looked a mix in between terrified and shocked. Like Vecna himself had just manifested in front of them, Max and Lucas were shouting, their heads ping ponging between Steve and Hopper, Mike and Will were shouting questions at Eddie. Joyce had pulled Will back, trying to push him behind her, Jonathan and Argyle were trying to stand defensively in front of Joyce but Jonathan also had a hand fisted in the back of Nancy’s shirt, who was pulling a pistol out of her bag, El was staring up at Steve, silent and considering, Erica oh god Erica was crying, she was just a child, Hopper was barking at the kids and Robin to stand down and Dustin…

Dustin hadn’t moved. He still had his back turned to everyone, both fists clenched so tight the colour had left his knuckles. 

“Shut up!” He screamed, high pitched and cracking, somehow making himself heard over the cacophony of noise that swiftly came to a halt at the sound of his voice.

Steve had an arm around Robin’s waist, having pulled her out of the line of fire while she scrambled against his immeasurable strength to try and get back in front of the barrel of the gun but he too froze at the sound.

Dustin took a deep breath in. “Eddie. What makes you so sure?”

Eddie looked in between Steve and Dustin. What could he say? He couldn’t exactly tell everyone what had transpired in the last twelve hours, he definitely wasn’t going to mention the sex. What had originally convinced him? Would it be enough?

“He…” Eddie swallowed. Somehow he’d never felt more vulnerable than right now, every single eye in the room was on him and he had the power to make or break everything. “He laughed at me? I insulted Vecna to his face and he… he thought it was funny.”

It sounded stupid, it sounded so stupid when he said it out loud. He couldn’t even bear to look up at them all to see how that explanation landed.

After a few seconds of heavy silence, El spoke up.

“What was your insult?”

Eddie glanced at her, she had her head tilted slightly to the side and her face was calm but curious. “I, uh, I called him a lump of unseasoned bolognese.”

“A dickless lump.” Steve interjected, a small smile on his face despite the tension in the room. Like a spell had been cast through the group at the sight of that smile, the strain on them seemed to lessen. Steve probably didn’t even realise he was doing it, there was just something about him now, something about his smile brought calm to them all. Maybe he’d always been that way. Eddie couldn’t really be sure.

Dustin whirled around and stomped his way over to Steve, the rest of the group parting like the Red Sea for him.

He stared up at Steve, an angry tilt to his brow and his jaw set, like he was ready to punch him in the face if he moved wrong.

“How many puffs?”

Eddie supposed the question must have been some kind of test, he certainly didn’t know the answer to whatever the fuck had just been asked, and no one else around him seemed to know either. No one else except for Steve.

“Four.”

Dustin’s lip quivered for just a second before he gathered himself, slamming his eyes shut again and turned his face away.

“El.” He called over his shoulder.

“Dust-” Steve started, reaching out, but was cut off.

“No!” Dustin yanked his shoulder away, his voice sharp and cutting. “I can’t- St-” swallowing harshly he continued a little quieter. “I need to be sure before I can- I need to be sure.”

Steve retracted his hand slowly, letting it fall to his side where it was quickly snatched up by Robin.

“Okay.”

El took a step forward but was halted by Hopper’s hand on her shoulder.

“We don’t know if this is safe.”

“I’ve been inside Vecna’s head.” El took her fathers hand and gently lifted it away. “If Steve is an agent of Vecna he will not be as strong. This is not the most dangerous thing I have ever done.”

“And that makes this okay, does it?”

“What else would you rather do?”

Hopper scowled at her, the downward tilt of his mouth making it clear he didn’t have an answer.

“I still don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it.”

El stepped out of Hopper’s space and towards Steve, holding her hands out and waiting.

Steve nodded down at her before leaning forwards, effectively slotting his head carefully in between her hands and they both closed their eyes.

For two and half long, long minutes the room collectively held its breath, waiting in anticipation for her to draw down her verdict.

Eddie was sure as shit that he hadn’t had sex with Vecna in Steve’s body but god damn if the thought still didn’t make his skin crawl.

El’s brow furrowed and her grip tightened around Steve’s head as though she was trying to burrow her fingers into his skull. Steve grimaced as she dug in hard but held himself steady, his hand still clutched in Robin’s.

Dustin had moved to stand beside Eddie, staring wide eyed at the scene before him. Eddie had never seen him look so young, so small, so lost. He slung an arm around his shoulder and pulled him back towards his chest, holding him firm, trying to impart comfort in any way he could. Dustin sagged into him, barely holding on by a thread.

A small hand slipped into his. Erica refused to look at him but the shake of her hand and her silent tongue told him all he needed to know. For all her bravado and all her snark she was still the baby of the group and by a long shot too. While she protected herself and made herself seen with her attitude, it often made them forget that she was barely out of elementary school.

In some ways she was the biggest victim of all of this, no one else had been thrust into this apocalypse as young as Erica Sinclair.

And based on the little he had heard about how she had gotten introduced to all this, Steve was there. Steve, Robin and Dustin were the ones around trying to keep her safe against some kind of underground Russian spy operation or something. No wonder she was affected by all this.

Eddie pulled her back towards him too, his other arm around her shoulders, all three of them huddled in close together, watching and waiting.

“There’s something else there.” El muttered as her fingers relaxed, gently combing through the parts of Steve’s hair she’d messed up. “This is Steve. You are Steve. You are here. But there is something else here too.”

Steve’s face paled just a fraction. “Vecna’s not in my head.”

“No, it’s not Vecna, it’s something else. A cloud.”

“A good cloud?”

“No.”

The tension in the room ramped straight back up.

“A b- a bad cloud then?”

“No. It’s just a cloud, but pushed and tugged. Made into long legs-”

“The Mind Flayer?!” Will shrieked out in a burst of panic.

“El, is he Flayed?” Joyce asked, somehow calm but straight to the point.

“No. No it’s not like-” not like Billy. “The Flayed were Vecna. Vecna puppeteering The Mind Flayer. This little bit in his head… it’s free.”

“So he’s…” Dustin huffed, his voice cracking again. “El, please, in plain English? Is he safe? Is he Steve? Is he- is he back?”

El nodded. “He is safe, he is Steve, he is back.”

She barely had the words out of her mouth before Dustin had ripped himself away from Eddie to throw himself at Steve. Steve unwound himself from around Robin quicker than should have been possible to be able to catch Dustin in time but catch him he did.

“You- you died. You died! You told me you loved me then you just went and died on me like an asshole. How could you- please, please don’t ever do that again. Swear to me, I can’t… I can’t-” Dustin was screaming, wailing into Steve’s neck, the sound echoing loudly around the room while everyone simultaneously tried not to intrude on their moment while not being able to bear the thought of leaving Steve.

“I know, I’m so sorry, Dusty. I’m so sorry. Never again, I swear on your mother.” Steve tried for humour but even he couldn’t push past all the emotion in his voice. “Never again.” He had his own face buried into Dustin’s hair, his arms wound tight around him, unable to keep his voice from wobbling.

Once Dustin had stopped screaming and cursing and was able to take a few deep breaths, he loosened his arms slightly, allowing Steve to glance up towards the other kids. 

It was all the invitation Max needed. 

She threw herself against Steve and Dustin, clutching on to them for dear life. She had barely made contact before the rest of the kids were rushing forward, grabbing onto any piece of Steve or each other they could reach.

Dustin unwound an arm from around Steve’s neck, opening his body up, looking back towards Eddie and Erica.

She shot forward, being pulled right into the centre of the group hug, right up against Dustin, Steve and Robin.

Robin still had herself pressed in close, her arms around Erica and Dustin while the kids all muttered and cried and punched and breathed. They told Steve they couldn’t lose him again, they practically fell all over themselves to tell him how much they appreciated him, how important he was, the guilt at thinking him dead and having never told him how much he meant had been eating away at all of them for a solid month. They even turned to Robin and told her how happy it made them to have her back too. They’d missed their Aunt Buckley. 

That started a fresh round of tears from everyone.

Movement to his side caught Eddie’s eye. Nancy was standing a little bit away, pale faced and swallowing repeatedly, trying to keep her emotions in check. She looked like she was desperate to throw herself into the fray but didn’t know if she’d be welcome, didn’t know if she was allowed. 

Her eyes were shining and her mouth was tight as Eddie approached her. He took her hand in his and pulled her forward. She turned her wide gaze on him as he led her closer, scared and apprehensive but Steve raised his head and held his own hand out to her. Will and Mike almost immediately shifted to the side, pulling her into the group with them.

Steve sent a short thankful glance Eddie’s way before turning his watery attention back to that wild eclectic group of people that loved him so incredibly.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 AO3

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[frogmagog]

Some Thoughts on Demonic Cults

I have a certain fascination with the ideology underpinning demonic cults in fantasy worlds. I won’t claim there’s any terribly profound reason - I don’t think imagining a cult of Juiblex really says something meaningful about the darkness in our souls or the underpinning psychology of real-life cults or anything like that. But I find it a very fun exercise, in the pure sense of fantasy imagination, to consider what circumstances, ideas, or experiences would drive someone to embrace values usually seen as perfectly evil.

It’s also just good game design. To illustrate why, I’m reminded of a campaign I played in sometime ago, running Out of the Abyss. We entered a city, and we were warned of The Pudding King - a gnomish acolyte of Juiblex who was threatening the city. I was playing a manipulative, cunning, and incredibly physically fragile (I had specifically taken lower Con than was usually allowed) Warlock. For several sessions after learning about our upcoming enemy, I worked to learn more about the man who became The Pudding King - his motives, his past, and his possible weaknesses. I was excited to take advantage of planning and manipulation to get the better of the enemy, where sheer force might put me in danger. But the Pudding King had no past. 

Now I don’t blame the GM for this really, it was their first campaign, and they simply ran it according to the book. And the book gave absolutely no reason behind The King’s turn to worship of ooze. He is simply insane (even listed as a feature in his statblock) and so he worships demons. My problem here is not that a demon worshipper needs complex, sympathetic, richly-realised motivations - it could be as simple as wanting power, or revenge, or wealth. But if you don’t give them something, then you totally cut off the potential for player interaction. If a cultist wants bloodshed, that informs what distractions, persuasive tactics or threats will or will not work against them. If a cultist wants nothing, then the cultist can only be overcome with bloodshed. To put it simply - this is boring.

Reading Against the Cult of the Reptile God, I was struck with how deep back this goes into D&D’s history. In this adventure, the Reptile God (a Spirit Naga named Explictica Defilus, which to be fair does rule as a name) is charming villagers into joining her cult. Through the device of supernatural charm, no other motive is necessary. This serves to keep the situation nice and tidy, more Invasion of the Body Snatchers than The Wicker Man - there are Good Villagers, and Evil Cultists. The former must be protected, and the latter must be defeated. This keeps the focus of the scenario straightforward, and avoids getting bogged down in the history of Orlane, the faith of Merikka, or any of the other things I’d probably spend far too many sessions on.

Still, I found throughout the whole module the only character who caught my attention in any real way was the one willing cultist: Derek Desleigh. He’s not the deepest character; he is evil, he is scarred, and he very much enjoys killing people. Despite this the very fact that he has chosen to work with the cultists makes him fascinating to me. His motive seems to just be hoarding embezzled funds from the town while he can, and getting out when the going gets tough. But it raises so many interesting possibilities - is he disgusted by Explictica? Respectful? Dismissive? Do any of the other cultists suspect his dubious motives? Could he be persuaded to aid the PCs, if convinced it was the safer bet? Even the sliver of a motive and a background adds so much potential intrigue. Its not about moral nuance - Desleigh is probably the most personally evil character in the village - but it provides texture, and I believe texture is the essence of good scenario design.

Even Explictica herself is given no real motive for her actions. She collects treasure, and feeds, and is growing her cult, but whether she collects treasure for hoarding or for use is unclear, as is her endgame once she owns all of Orlane. Again, this is fine, I don’t need her to be much more than a boss, and the simplicity of this kind of adventure can be pleasantly straightforward. Still, I find I wish we got just a little of what worship she demands.