#on the bright side I have in fact mapped out how I can get to where I need to be

[blu-bat]

Nothing like listing out your expenses vs how much you get paid and seeing how that sure isn't close to adding up to a livable anything.

[steviewashere]

Pumpkin Pie

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Recreational Drug Use (Marijuana), Alcohol, Inebriated Steve Harrington Tags: Post-Canon, Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Sad Steve Harrington, Insecure Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Kisses, Cuddling, Sharing Food, The Intimacy in Sharing Pie From the Same Tin on The Same Fork, Sappy Ending For @steddie-spooktober Day 24 Prompt: Pumpkin (My probably only fic for spooktober because it got away from me)

🎃—————🥧 Eddie wakes up to a cold bed next to him and a bladder that’s screaming.

It’s not unusual for Steve to get out of bed in the middle of the night. Sometimes from a nightmare. Maybe because he needs a glass of water. Occasionally for the bathroom. But for his side to stay cold? That’s what’s unusual.

He pulls up his pajama pants, washes his hands, and makes it out of their ensuite bathroom. Well, it used to be just Steve’s ensuite and bedroom, but it’s theirs now that his parents have completely moved out of Hawkins. Leaving their too big house in a trust fund—the only thing that’s in the trust fund, it seems. Steve agreed that he’d pay the bills, so long as his parents didn’t fully sell it; surprisingly, they gave in.

The downstairs is completely dark. No life in the living room. No flushing toilet from the downstairs bathroom. Nothing. It’s almost as if Steve isn’t even home. Though, the back porch light is on. And in the light layer of autumn fog, glowing from the pool lights, is Steve laid back in one of the pool loungers.

Heaving open the heavy sliding glass door, Eddie chances stepping outside. The cold bites him—teeth marks, flesh missing. His t-shirt and fleece pants aren’t going to fend off the chill. And Steve’s outfit won’t do any better either. Considering the fact that he’s in nothing but some ratty sweatpants. How can he sit out here, Eddie briefly wonders. A waft of something skunky and earthy flares his nostrils alive. He shuffles over so that he’s in the adjacent pool lounger, sitting on the edge, arms wrapped tight around himself. Looking on at Steve’s profile, who is completely zoned out, bringing the joint to his lips mechanically. There are goosebumps on Steve’s shoulders, his cheeks bright red, the area under his nostrils a little shiny. He’ll get sick out here.

“Steve?” Eddie softly calls. Though, it startles Steve anyway. Hazel eyes meet his: bloodshot, glistening, his pupils expanded to their full extent from how dark it is. There’s dark circles under his eyes, heavy eye bags. His skin is pasty underneath the flush. Already looks sick. “What’re you doin’ out here, sweetheart? It’s warmer inside.”

A sniff. Shrugged shoulders. Steve looks back out towards the pool, but his eyes aren’t bouncing over the water—from where Eddie follows them, they appear to be mapping out the horizon line, a blue expanse coated with fog. “My parents called”—he takes a deep pull from the joint and the cigarette paper crackles into use, breathing it into his lungs, puffing it lightly from his nostrils—“they aren’t coming,” Steve croaks, the rest of that smoke billowing from between his chapped lips.

“They called at midnight?”

Steve gives a heavy nod. Another drag. Billowing smoke. “Motherfuckers are in London right now, livin’ it large with all their stupid business friends. Mom’s tryin’ to keep Dad from chasing tail.” He blinks slowly and lets out a longwinded sigh. “It’s whatever. Tried to keep in touch with my family, made them a bunch of nice food, and this is what I get. Fuckin’ whatever.” Steve’s smiling by the end of that sentence, this humorless, lifeless thing. He goes back to the joint again on autopilot, lips wrapping around the end, taking in another big hit, letting it settle, and blowing it out with his next sigh.

Eddie looks around Steve, the crumbles of burnt joint on the lounger, what looks like a near empty glass bottle resting near one of the legs, another smoked roll but it’s just the filter at this point. He purses his lips and furrows his eyebrows. Looks at that bottle again—Smirnoff. He takes a deep breath, oh boy. “Don’t you want to go inside, sweetheart? We can talk about all this in bed, y’know. It’s warmer,” he tries again.

“Nah,” Steve drawls. “I’m warm already”—another fucking hit—“’t’s fine.”

“How much have you had to smoke, Steve?”

He shrugs again. Nonchalant like none of this is worrisome. Whatever that phone call was must’ve shaken him up pretty bad. Especially for him to come out here and party like it’s 1983? Yeah, must’ve been pretty fucked.

A cloud of smoke. “Dunno,” Steve says, “put some money in your…your lunchbox. Gutted some of my cigs. Bada-bing, bada-boom, right?” He puts the roach out on the arm of his chair, leaving a shallow crater in its wake. Steve points loosely towards the leg of his chair. “Hand me the…the uh…the drink?”

“No, Steve,” Eddie responds firmly, “I’m not gonna give that to you. We should go back to bed. Talk about that phone call in the morning.”

Steve scoffs and hefts himself up enough to come off the back of the chair, just barely reaching over into Eddie’s space. His eyes are glossier than they were before, heavy lids, Eddie can smell the alcohol on his breath when he speaks. “What’s there to talk about? They don’ fuckin’ love me. ‘M not enough for them to stay and now they’re startin’ over without me.” He collapses back. A wet breath from between his lips. “It’s whatever,” Steve spits. Swallows and sniffles and—

The first tear rolls down his right cheek.

“Steve,” Eddie breathes.

“Nothin’ to talk ‘bout.” He wipes aggressively at his cheeks with the hilt of his palms. Mutters, so quiet Eddie almost doesn’t hear him, “Don’ fuckin’ love me.”

Eddie’s silent for a few minutes. Sour in his stomach from Steve’s soft sniffles, the tears he won’t admit are there. He looks out at the forest, the dark expanse of sky. Lets out a calm, solid breath. “Are you hungry?” Eddie asks quietly.

“Sorta.”

“You want some of that pumpkin pie I made?” Steve nods to that. “Okay,” Eddie whispers. “M’gonna get you some water, too, alright? Enough of the weed and alcohol for tonight.”

“But”—

“No, Stevie, baby,” he shoots down as gently as he can. “It’s not gonna help.”

Before Steve can protest again, Eddie swipes up the bottle of vodka and retreats back into the kitchen. He pulls the tin of pumpkin pie from the fridge, grabs a fork, a bottle of water, and heads back outside. Along the way, though, he snatches a hoodie of Steve’s and some socks for the both of them.

The water and pie are set in Steve’s lap, fork laying gently across its top. He scrunches up the hoodie and pulls it over Steve’s head for him, guiding his arms through, letting it fall loosely over his stomach. And he treats the socks with the same reverence, a pair for each of them. Finally, he digs a bite from the center of the pie tin—a hideous scrape of fork prongs in the center of what he made—and brings it to Steve’s lips, who takes the scoop gingerly.

Steve hums with his eyes closed. “You’re a good baker,” he mumbles with a full mouth, “best…best boyfriend in the world.”

He snorts. “Mmm…that’s funny, I was gonna say that you’re the best boyfriend in the world. My favorite person, too.”

“Really?” Steve looks to him with his eyes as wide as they’ll possibly go, pupils still dilated, still glossy, but surprised. “Am I really?”

Eddie combs his fingers through the front of Steve’s hair, swooping it back off his forehead. “Yeah,” he murmurs, “sweetheart, you are more than best to me. You’re everything, Steve.” He offers another bite to Steve, watches as it disappears behind his lips.

There’s a small, pleased smile on Steve’s face. The corner of his eyes crinkled lightly, sparkling. He looks down at the pie tin, a crease worming between his eyebrows. Gently concerned, “Are you eatin’, too? ’T’s your food.”

“Two for you, one for me. I’m not that hungry.”

Steve hums. Still watching Eddie, as he finally takes a bite for himself. And then watching with more intent as he gets another bit of pie. There’s a smudge of pie on the corner of his mouth. Eddie wipes it away reverently with the tip of his thumb. He receives a kiss to it for his efforts, which he chuckles at.

“I love you,” Eddie breathes—easy as pie. “Love you so much, it’s almost ridiculous.”

There are tears in Steve’s eyes again. When he’s inebriated, his emotions are practically free flowing. They always are. It’s a shame he only allows himself to be this vulnerable when he’s like this, but it’s all the same real. Wetly, “Love you, too. You know that? Don’…don’t forget that. That I…I love you, Eds. So much. Love you so much.” His next breath comes out as a little, weak sob. A hiccup, this gentle burble.

He pets his hand through Steve’s hair again, gently swiping it down the side of his head, and cupping his cheek. His face is warm and his eyes are shiny and he’s still so beautiful—so wonderfully Steve—even when he’s like this. “Shh,” Eddie whispers, “I know, baby. I know. And I’ll remember, promise. Because I’m gonna love you for forever, Stevie. Just you and me.”

Another soft cry—delicate. “Kiss?” Steve asks quietly, “can we kiss?”

Instead of answering verbally, Eddie deposits the fork into the well of missing pumpkin pie. He cups Steve’s face with both his hands and gently invites himself in. Steve isn’t very coordinated, his lips too pursed, and his whole face scrunching in Eddie’s palms, but he makes do. It’s a saccharine kiss all the same—no tongue, just their lips, more smear than anything. But when Eddie pulls back a few inches, Steve is still positively dazed. As if it’s the first time they ever kissed, in which Steve looked the exact same: in love, entirely surprised his tactic worked, and still completely pleased with the results.

“I love you,” Eddie murmurs against Steve’s lips, mingling in the same breath, “no matter what, I’m gonna keep loving you.”

Steve rests in Eddie’s palms, going lax into his left hand. His face is squished, he’s flushed and warm. There’s a goofy, lopsided, syrupy smile on his face. “You…you taste like pumpkin, Eds.”

“Yeah?” he laughs out through a breath. “You do, too. You’re my slice of pumpkin pie, Stevie”—he pets his thumbs over Steve’s temples, down at the corners of his eyes—“slice of heaven right here in my hands.”

“Mm,” Steve hums. He moves forward in his chair, coming up off the backing again. This time, though, he wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist and squeezes. Snuggling in as close as he possibly can with Eddie still holding onto his face. There aren’t anymore tears, on his cheeks or waiting in his eyes—the best thing Eddie could’ve hoped for. With the way he moved, Steve’s cheeks are pushed flush to his eyes. His lips are pouty. Eddie can't help it, he plops a kiss to Steve's forehead, right between his eyebrows. Steve's voice is distorted and mumbling when he speaks, “You make me happy, Eds. Make me so, so happy. Love you. Don’ forget, m’kay? Always…always love you.”

For a few minutes more, they’ll be sappy like this. Slow and soft in each other’s space, sharing bites of pie off the same fork, exchanging the same words. They’ll hold close, forgetting about that stupid phone call. And eventually, they’ll head back to bed. Fluttering against each other under the blanket, Steve nestled against Eddie’s chest, drooling onto the same pillow.

In the morning, Steve will wake up, hungover. But Eddie will be right there, a glass of water and some painkillers in his hands. The same words again, “I love you.”

🎃—————🥧

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the soaring arrow

fused with the foe, chapter two

a/n: we getting somewhere in this one... progress... and by progress, i of course mean that we are one chapter closer to when they finally get to be happy and in love.

summary: “…do you still wanna learn?”

warnings: king!steve rogers x reader, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, slow burn, innocent!reader, violence, gore, injury, weapons, big scary dire bear, a bit of a cliffhanger of an ending to this chapter (the drama is here, it has arrived, in the majestic for of [spoiler])

word count: 4706

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Rising yet again from the plush stool, your feet carried you the short distance back around to the opposing seat. Your elbow came to rest against the edge of the small games table as you glanced down at the chequered board and your chin swiftly found your propped-up palm as a bored breath seeped from your lungs. 

As you moved one of the ivory pieces, the thoughts you’d been trying to keep at bay for weeks slipped through ever so slightly. The king hadn’t talked to you since the wedding, in fact, whenever you’d been in the same room with each other, his gaze never found you. 

You might as well have been invisible.

The arm beneath your face slowly melted down till it layed flat against the table and you let your head follow along. Slumped over, your cheek pressed against your forearm. 

Raising your gaze from your up-close perspective of the chess pieces, it fell upon the man leaning 

against the wall by the exit. Dark locks only half tied up, a crossbow was strapped to his broad back as his stormy gaze stayed low and locked on the small dagger he absentmindedly twirled and flipped in his fingers.

Letting out another sigh, you didn’t bother straightening out before you asked, “so, is this just how it’s gonna be?”

Halting his fiddling, Barnes’ eyes met yours, “pardon me, your majesty?”

“You just lurking wherever I am, is that how it’s gonna be for the rest of my life?” you lifted yourself only slightly so that both of your palms pressed into your soft cheeks to prop it up. 

“No, I’m just here till you get settled, then I’ll go back to my usual business,” the advisor stated. 

“And when will that be?”

“I don’t know, your majesty,” he sheathed the short blade at his side, “why? If it’s because you don’t care for my presence then please just say so, I won’t be offended if you’d rather have a different warden looking out for you.”

“No,” you sat up properly, “it’s not that, not at all, I just–… could I maybe go for a walk?” the question hesitantly left your lips. 

“Sure, you can,” he nodded slightly, “where do you wanna go? I could show you the Valarian Ward in town, there are lots of museums there you might like–”

“No,” you cut his offer off, “I meant if I could go for a walk on my own.”

“Oh… well, I’m not entirely sure that’s the best idea…” he uttered carefully. 

“I am your queen, aren’t I? So, can’t I just command you to let me go by myself?” you tried, blinking up at him like a little puppy, “please, Barnes.”

A low sigh then flowed from his lips as his stare raked across the floor. A moment passed before he opened his mouth again, slowly saying as his gaze stayed averted, “your majesty, I am gonna leave for a moment, I suddenly remembered that I forgot something in my chambers this morning. Please excuse me as I momentarily won’t be here watch where you go,” his eyes flicked up to meet yours, “you got that?” 

“Yes,” a bright smile stretched across your features, “I understand what you’re saying,” as you instantly shot up to your feet, “thank you, Barnes.” 

Though half regretting his choice already, he still offered you a half-hearted smile, “you’re welcome, your majesty.”

Bending down, you plucked a long-stemmed daisy and added it to the bouquet of wildflowers your left fist was tightly enclosed around. As you lifted yourself back up, your vision washed over the blossoming meadow you stood on, located on the hill directly north of the castle. From here only parts of the seaside community were perceivable, as from this angle the mountainous fortress blocked off the vast majority of Borün city, only the edges closest to the main road, like the city stables and the water mill, caught your gaze. But the farmlands that curved over the rolling hills west of the town had no obstructions in their path. The vision of golden fields as well as wide pens that housed both fuzzy brown cows and round little sheep, that blissfully soaked in the mild afternoon sun, couldn’t help but bring a smile to your lips. 

Peeking over your shoulder, the warnings of the king’s right-hand man faintly echoed in your mind as you glanced at the thick forest. Temptation had swayed your feet to carry you dangerously close to the edge. The Noll woods didn’t seem that dangerous from this angle, perhaps it was safe enough on the perimeter and it was just the dangers deep within it that they were so terrified of. So, the next thing you knew, your leisurely stride had crossed the meadow and the dark wilderness had swallowed you whole. 

Extending an arm as your feet slowly walked over the crunchy leaves and the pillowy moss clusters, you felt the cool leaves brush against your open palm, almost as if you were greeting each and every one of them as you passed. The chirping birds high up in the dense treetops sang a pleasant melody that caused a bright smile to bloom on your lips. 

You weren’t sure how long you ventured forth, deeper and deeper into the twisted forest, but eventually, a small and speckled bush caught your eye, ripe with the vibrant berries you recognised from the layered cake that you had been served for tea just a few days prior. The fabric of the long burgundy cloak you wore billowed behind you as you rushed to pluck the small fruits. A soft hum vibrated at your lips as you tasted their tart sweetness, popping them in your mouth one by one. 

Though just as your head was up in the clouds, over the moon about this little slice of paradise you had discovered, a low growl emanated from the tall shrubs just behind the berry bush. Your fingers froze in an instant and the fruits in your berry-stained palm rolled to the ground. Slowly, you raised your gaze as a giant snout pushed through the dense plants and the creature’s rotten breath fanned across your cheeks, causing your stomach to churn. 

Holding your breath, petrified with fear, you willed your feet to shuffle back at a terrifyingly slow pace. Your entire body trembled like a leaf on the wind as your eyes stayed glued on the dark animal slowly creeping into the clearing. 

A bear, though at least three times the size of any normal one, came stomping into the light. Its footsteps were heavy enough to make the forest floor quake. Long and gnarly teeth curled up over its drooping lip as viscus slobber, and what looked like blood, dripped from its gums, staining the blades of grass below with every hefty step. Nowhere on its scarred skull were something that resembled eyes, so as it sniffed loudly, your hair nearly rustling in the gust, the blind monster detected precisely where you stood.

A snarl rumbled out from its toothy maw as it clawed closer to you like a predator playing with its food just before it pounced. Eclipsing the dabbled sunlight that streamed in through the tree canopy, the massive creature blocked off any chance you had of escape. The petrifying roar it then let out caused your hands to instinctively shoot up in front of your face. 

Falling back, you collided with the thick tree trunk right behind you. Adrenaline pumped so furiously throughout your body that the tree almost felt like a pillow, as your body was so filled with terror that it didn’t let you notice any of the pain. 

Through your shielding fingers, you caught sight of a swift movement, though it wasn’t the ravaging bear before you. From out of nowhere a broad figure suddenly appeared, slipping in between you and the creature. 

Your eyes widened as you saw the king hold a shield up high, groaning from the strain as he blocked the monster’s mighty attack. Drawing a stout axe at his belt, he sliced it low, catching one of the bear’s legs and causing it to reel back enough for him to bash the shield against its snout, sending it back a few paces. The arching blows he then landed on the gnawing beast were a brutal blur to your eyes as he didn’t yield till the monster was slain and its blood stained the mossy forest floor. 

Slowly turning to face you, crimson dabbled his features and tainted his beard as he stared you down and roared, “what the hell were you thinking?” his broad chest still heaved from the battle as he took a step closer to you, “you’re not in Obelón anymore, you can’t just wander off!”

“I–… I’m sorry,” you said weakly, your eyes felt heavy as you stumbled to distance yourself from the tree trunk, “I didn’t–”

“You didn’t what?” inching closer, he sheathed his weapons, “think you’d bump into a dire bear? What if it had been something worse, huh? What then? Do you have any idea of what kind of dangers lurk in these shadows?”

Black spots dappled your vision as you just managed a faintly utter, “I’m s-sorr–,” before you collapsed. 

As the king caught you in his arms, your cloak unfurled to reveal the silks of your gown ripped and peeking out from the shreds was a grave wound on your waist. 

When you finally woke up, you weren’t in the forest any longer, but warm under the covers in your own bed.

You weren’t sure what you noticed first, the familiar surroundings or the sharp sting that throbbed at your side. Wincing silently, you pulled down the blankets and saw the clean cloths that bandaged the injury. As you carefully ran a fingertip over the dressing, a figure at the foot of the bed caught your hazy gaze. 

Slumped over on a small stool with his head resting against his folded-up arms, there sat the king, completely out cold. 

A clay pitcher of water stood on the adjacent bedside table beside a few empty cups that had a deep green tint to the glass. Carefully, as to not rouse the slumbering monarch, you reached for the jug in order to quench the thirst that scratched at your throat. As your fingertips brushed against the handle and moved it just a tad, an aching wave suddenly washed over you as the attempt stretched and disturbed your injured waist enough for you to recoil back, accidentally tugging at the decanter in the process and retroactively knocking over one of the nearby glasses.

As soon as it smashed to the stone floor, the king bolted up like he’d been struck by lightning. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” you rushed as you clutched your throbbing side and leaned back against the pillows, “I just wanted something to drink.”

Still groggy, he sucked in a breath as he squinted over at you in the bed, “don’t move,” his voice was deep from sleep, “I’ll get it,” and he reached over to fill up the glass that didn’t fall to its doom, “here,” handing it to you, his eyes stayed on you as you took a sip, “how are you feeling?”

Lowing the drink to your lap, you watched the water ripple gently in the glass as you uttered, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking I’d run into any monsters, I just wanted to see the forest. I’ve never been in a real forest before, so I just–… I’m sorry…”

A low sigh flowed from the king’s lips before he asked, “how are you feeling, dove? Does it hurt badly? Because I can fetch you some herbs if it does.” 

“It’s not pleasant, but I’ll manage,” as you always did. Your pain tolerance was through the roof when it had to be, “I’m sorry.”

“Would you please stop apologising?” your tense gaze finally flickered up to meet his, “I understand you wandering out on your own, I even understand you wanting to explore the forest, but what I don’t understand is why you didn’t bring a weapon with you. I know you don’t know too much about this kingdom, but you must have a basic understanding of just how dangerous it is, especially The Noll Woods. So why didn’t you bring anything to protect yourself with?”

“What?” you blinked, “I don’t own a weapon.” 

Eyes widening, his brows shot up, “you don’t?” 

“No…” you shifted lightly under his gaze, “why are you looking at me like that?” 

Leaning forward slightly, he asked, “dove, do you not know how to fight?” 

“Why would I know how to fight?” 

“Why would you–…” he echoed faintly before lowing his gaze to the blankets spread out on the canopy bed, “gods, I knew that Obelón’s high walls helped protect its people from many creatures, but I know even that doesn’t stop the citizens from knowing the basics at least. Why didn’t you ever?” he found your eyes once more, “you’re of royal birth. Why haven’t you been in lessons since you were a child?” 

Shifting your grasp around the glass, you uttered, “…my father wouldn’t let me…” your brows were still deeply knitted as you said, “I thought it was improper for fine ladies to have such skills.” 

“It’s not,” he shook his head, “trust me. Some of the best fighters I’ve ever known were fine ladies such as yourself.” 

“Really?” you couldn’t help but inch forward a bit. 

“Yeah, my mom for one taught me a lot of what I know, as well as–…” an unreadable expression briefly washed over his features as his sentence suddenly crumbled, “well, others…” 

“I always wanted to learn,” you thought back, “used to spy on my brothers when they were training, even tried to convince Callum to teach me in secret, but none of it ever worked out… my dad always found out and then he’d–…” your gaze stayed locked on the outline of your legs beneath the covers as you felt a shiver run down your spine, “I, uhm… I learned to stop doing that. Going against his rules.” 

After he helped you place the glass back beside the pitcher, the king’s deep timbre filled the chamber once more, “…do you still wanna learn?”

The gentle wind kissed your cheeks as you squinted your eyes at the circular target close to the ivy-covered outer wall of the front courtyard. Though the training area stood nestled between the warden’s barracks and the royal stables, the king’s right-hand man had ensured that there wouldn’t be as many people crowding the common area as there usually were, a gesture you’d become thankful for as the act of learning an entirely new skill was intimidating enough without having the added commotion of experts in the field directly next to you, granting you the perspective of just how green you were. 

Over countless days, bedridden in your chambers, the wound to your side had scabbed over and healed nearly completely. Though the wait was significant, it hadn’t felt that dreary, since at the first dawn you woke, the king’s presence had been exchanged for a tall stack of meticulously selected books. The majority of them were factual records about Eflorr, the land, the history, everything that had been out of your fingertips in the library of your birthplace. But occasionally in between the tomes of the kingdom were books of completely different genres. There was a wide and worn book of fables that had whimsical illustrations on each page, a pocket-sized novel counting the mystery of a fictional rogue, as well as a collection of flowery poems. 

Letting the nocked arrow fly, it didn’t pierce itself into the bullseye your eyes were boring a hole into, but instead joined the cluster lodged in the ground. 

“I am never gonna get this,” you muttered, nearly tossing the training bow from you. 

“Oh, don’t lose hope yet, your majesty,” you twisted your neck to see Barnes standing by the small, open-style stables adjacent to where you stood, petting the cheek of the black horse that stuck its head over the fence, “you’ve only been going for a few days.” 

Drawing another arrow from the quiver not yet strapped to your back, but simply resting on the small stool scooted close, you attempted once more, and though it didn’t hit the target, the arrowhead did wedge itself in between two of the stones on the wall behind it. 

“Not bad,” your body jumped at the unexpected voice, “you’re getting closer.”

Spinning around, you saw the king, arms crossed and leaning against the building directly behind you, “your majesty!” your eyes grew to the size of saucers, “h-hello.”

“You need to relax your bow arm more,” he pushed himself off of the wall and walked up to you. 

“What?” you blinked, still slightly stunned and scrambling to catch up to the fact that he was even there. 

“Here,” he stepped up behind you and a sharp breath of air filled your lungs as his touch found the limb clutching the bow, “you need to relax this arm,” his presence ghosted against your spine as his touch adjusted your appendage to the proper angle, “and lower it just a bit,” plucking up an arrow, he too nocked it for you and let his fingers linger over yours as you drew the string back tight, “use the corner of your lips as an anchor,” as the feathery fletching tickled your cheek, you could have sworn that you felt his curled knuckle shyly brush against your features as well, “and since you’re not very brawny, try and keep a bit of tension right here, it’ll help,” his hand slid down to your waist, the other palm briefly joining on the other side before he let go of you. You could feel the gentle gust of his breath on the shell of your ear as his low voice instructed you, “give it a try.”

The arrow then soared through the air and lodged itself into the outermost ring of the target, “oh my gods,” you squealed, your body victoriously wiggling at the sight, “I did it!”

“Atta girl,” he smiled at the result, and you turned your head to gaze back at him, the fact that he hadn’t shifted back yet caused a shiver to crawl up your spine, “see? I knew you could do it,” his eyes finally flickered down to yours, though when the close proximity dawned on him, only a second passed before his feet began to move, “anyways,” clearing his throat, his vision now seemed to wander over anything but you, “uhm… good job,” he offered your upper arm a small pat, “keep it up,” then turned to the high warden still off to the side, “Buck, I need you to take a look at something for me, up in the war room.”

Giving the horse one last scratch, Barnes answered his friend, “sure thing.”

“You know the king well, correct?” you asked the soldier as he walked with you down to breakfast. At this point, you’d gotten fairly used to Barnes acting as your shadow.

“You could say that,” the corners of his lips curled up in a soft smile, “my mom was a servant here at the castle, so I essentially grew up alongside him. Then as soon as I was old enough, I joined the wardens, partly just to stay at his side. So yes, I do know him well,” he nodded slowly, “I know him very well.”

Rounding the corner, you walked down a long hallway with windows facing out toward the sea all along the right wall. Motes of dust hung suspended in the morning sunbeams that spilt into the hall, perfectly still, like flakes of gold leaf trapped in resin.

Glancing over at him once more as you stepped through one of the golden rays, you slowly opened your mouth once more, “can I ask something?”

“You can ask me anything you’d like,” he met your eye. 

“Does–…” you hesitated a moment before averting your gaze to gather up the courage to utter, “does the king have someone else?”

Gently cocking his head, Barnes echoed, “someone else?”

“Does he have someone else?” you repeated, sensing heat creep up in your cheeks.

“Oh, uh,” he breathed as you reached the end of the hallway and he stretched out his arm to push open the door you’d arrived at, “no, not that I know of.”

As he opened the door to the smaller of the dining rooms for you to enter, you noticed that you’d been unconsciously gnawing at the inner part of your bottom lip till it nearly bled and you forced yourself to stop, “alright…”

When you crossed over the threshold, Barnes stayed put on the other side, though offered you a small nod before the heavy doors fell shut behind you. 

Turning to face the long table centred in the chamber, your eyes suddenly grew wide as an unexpected figure sat on the far end. 

“Good morning,” the king glanced up at you as he popped the piece of strawberry lodged on the tip of his fork into his mouth. 

“Your majesty! I–, I–…” you blinked a second, finding it impossible to get your feet to move the last few paces over to your set place, “I thought you took your breakfast up in your personal chambers.”

“Felt like a change in scenery today,” he plucked up a porcelain cup filled with steaming tea and brought it to his lips, though paused before taking a sip, “is that alright?”

“Of course, it is,” a shudder ran through you as you shook yourself out of your stupor and sat down at the table. 

A generous spread of options layed arced around your empty plate. From seasonal fruits, cut up and arranged on an oblong platter, to hearty bread, sliced and toasted, propped up for it to stay crisp, the selection never ceased to make your belly rumble in want. 

When your plate was filled up and you slowly began to pick away at it, the king’s voice suddenly echoed from the other end of the table. 

“Are you busy this afternoon?”

“Busy?” you lifted your gaze and sent it down past the short floral centrepiece to look at him, “no, your majesty, not in particular. Why do you ask?”

His elbow was propped against the edge of the table and his hand gently rested against his beard as he continued to stare at you, “I was wondering if you’d care to promenade with me.”

“I know it doesn’t look like much from this angle,” the king pointed to the dark cave entrance on the cliff that the castle stood upon, “but that emergency exit has saved countless monarchs.”

“So, the tunnel leads up to the basement?” you glanced down to the part of the coastline still a ways further down the pebbly beach.

“Yep, opens up into the wine cellar, it’s actually one of the racks that’s concealed as the door down.”

Glancing up at him as you slowly walked beside one another, an amused smile curled up on your lip, “clever.”

“Yeah, my mom thought so, she was the one who implemented it.”

The corners of your lips then dropped back down, and you waited a second before asking softly, “when did she pass?”

“A while ago now…” his vision briefly flickered down to look at the waves foam at the shore, “anyways, I’d recommend taking a guide with you if you’re gonna go exploring in the cave because it can be easy to get lost if you didn’t grow up with it as your playground.” 

“I’ll remember that,” a faint chuckle bubbled out of you.

The pebbles crunched beneath your slow stride as you made your way down the beach, closer and closer to where the fort loomed and the docks beyond flourished into the bustling city. 

After he’d bent down to pick up a smooth, dark rock, the royal then spoke in a slightly apprehensive tone, “hey, I actually wanted to talk to you about something…”

Noticing that his stride had halted, you stopped as well, “yes, your majesty?”

His gaze stayed on the small rock in his palm as he turned it a few times, “I know I haven’t exactly been the warmest towards you, I haven’t given you any solid reason to trust or even like me,” his ocean eyes then lifted to meet yours, “but we are supposed to rule together, be a team. So, I propose that we call a truce. Let’s start over and try and be friends,” his broad hand then extended. 

Clasping your fingers around his palm, you shook on it, “truce,” and a small smile bloomed as you then returned to your walk.

Your eyes didn’t stray long from him, staring at him inquisitively till he, on a glance, noticed.

“What?”

“It’s just,” you squinted over at the man walking beside you, the water gentle and calm behind him, “I don’t even really know you…”

“Well,” he breathed, as if that setback was easy enough to remedy, “what would you like to know?”

“I don’t know…” as you continued to stare at him, your fingers absentmindedly fiddled with the opalescent stone attached to the chain hanging from your neck, “tell me everything.”

“Everything?” his eyebrows raised a second before he exhaled lowly, “alright… uhm,” he then lowered his gaze as he scrambled his brain, “my favourite colour is blue. I can’t stand pears,” he began to list off, “I know I don’t look it now, but I was a very scrawny kid, sick all the time. I’m excellent at skipping rocks, actually learned how to just down there from an old family friend. What else… uh, I don’t have a lot of free time, but the little I do, I tend to either read, history in particular, as well as draw or paint, whenever I have the chance.”

“Paint?” you chuckled as that was one of the last things you thought he’d say. 

“Yes,” he nodded, “not many, but a few of my pieces are strung up around the castle.”

“I will have to keep my eye out for those, your majesty,” you smiled. 

“Oh, and please, no more of that,” he pleaded, “you shouldn’t call me your majesty any longer, we’re friends now,” he momentarily turned to toss the rock into the rippling sea, and a small ring bloomed on the surface as it delved in, “you are my wife,” the corners of his lips tugged upwards as he faced you once more, “you should call me by my name.”

“Alright, Steve,” the name felt oddly intimate on your tongue, “I’ll try my best to do better.”

As he smiled down at you, a shadow suddenly soared across the sky above both of your heads. Lifting your eyes to the clouds above, they swiftly went wide in fear as you saw the creature that flew straight towards the village. 

“Oh gods, is that a–”

“Dragon,” Steve uttered before you could. 

The winged behemoth of a beast had scales like the darkest tree bark, but in the sunlight it soared through, they shined regally like an oil spill. 

Grabbing you by the hand as warning bells rang out over the seaside community, Steve dragged you with him and he addressed the two wardens that had lingered a few paces back while you both were out, “take her inside, through the cave, stay low, away from any windows.”

“Yes, my liege,” they swiftly replied and moved to defend you, but as the king’s grasp left yours, you reached out to halt him.

“Wait!” your fingers rushed to snag your lucky charm off, “here,” and you layed the fine necklace into his open palm before finding his eyes one last time and uttering, “please don’t die.”

Closing his fist around the jewel, he offered you a grave nod before the wardens led you into the cave and the king rushed down the banks and up the algae-slick steps that led up to the harbour. 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[xo-cod]

omg more soft Simon pls😭💗 maybe sth with a highly sensitive reader sfw or nsfw whatever works for u... luv ur blog💖

thank you sm lovie :") this is sfw! sorry i got to this so late ���🤍

dangerous love

"don't make me say it. i can't say the words"

rolling your eyes, you sit on the lap of your beloved lieutenant. the usual firm and stoic ghost has been left at the door, here he's become so affectionate and clingy, the way you adored it. here, he's simon. his calloused hands are wandering, trying to memorise every part on your skin. even though every nook and cranny is burned into his memory, mapped out exactly where and how to caress your body to get you into a whimpering mess.

"i think that's a lie, i think you can say those words simon riley" accentuating his name elicits a small groan from his lips, how he adores it when you take charge and command him. it brings a side of him he doesn't usually feel safe to show others. but you're so different. so warm and comforting, it just naturally comes out, spilling everywhere before he can even comprehend

you're so close to him, your fingers running though his blonde soft hair scratching gently on his scalp. and he relishes in it, his eyes closing out of habit. he can't help but rock underneath you, hoping you'd forget and immerse yourself in pleasure only he can provide you

but tonight, you were on a mission. and certainly not one to settle for any less so you move back but he grumbles a little, his hold on your waist tightening so that you're back close to him. he can't help but breathe in your sweet smell, practically trembling underneath you. like you're simultaneously not enough but yet overriding his senses.

"iloveyou" he mumbles in your neck, breath tickling your chest. it makes you giggle softly, gently pushing him back. your hands lace with his bigger ones, shaking your head as you gaze down at your half sleepy man

"try again, sir" you whisper, your arms around his neck. his eyes darken with lust at the word, instantly thinking about how many ways he could have you. but you don't relent. he knows what you want and maybe it's the fact that he's so tired that all his walls are down or the fact that he's so in love with you, he can't help but give you what you want

simon leans his forehead against your own, the sweetest of smiles pulling on his lips. his hands come to hold yours, his thumb rubbing comforting circles around your knuckles. he breathes you in a little, not used to being so open and vulnerable about his feelings like this. not used to having someone care for him so deeply, not thinking that he could've ever received such a thing in this painful life.

"i love you, with everything in me. i never thought i could feel this way, that it was even bloody possible..." he breaks off, gently chuckling at the predicament he was in. how for years he swore of love, swore off from ever pursuing a relationship in this life. he didn't grow up with adoring parents that showed him what love meant, he couldn't possibly drag someone else deep down in the depths of his pain and misery of his past. the same thing he was running from.

how nobody could hold a candle to him but you managed to light a whole fire deep in his soul. the embers burning more bright and intense than he could've ever imagined. you truly tilted his world on its axis but he didn't care. for once in his life, he was reckless. and he loved it, for it landed him you.

"but there you were, you little minx. and i've fallen for you y/n l/n, more than you think. more than i even bloody know" his voice is soft as he nears the end of his confession, kissing the tip of your nose. there's really nothing more he could think of, he was a man of few words so action was always his number one thing. no words could do it justice. but he'd show you, again and again. so that even if you had a sliver of doubt all of was expelled, he'd make sure of that

"i love you too si..." you whisper, tenderly holding his stubbled face between your palms. your thumbs rub soft circles on the apples of his cheeks, giving into him. you couldn't help it, he was so addicting. your arms go behind his neck, pulling him towards you desperately. and he did the same, his arms tightening around your waist as if you'd disappear right before him. like he couldn't handle the fact that there could possibly be any sort of distance between you both, he pulls you with his strong arms close to his front.

as you got lost in the feeling of him, a surety had rose, lodged deep in his throat. his hands hold you as if you'll slip through his fingers, deepening the kiss as though your lips were the sweetest of drugs. that it'll be you always, for as long as you will let him. for as long as you'll have him

[hannahssimblr]

Ivy is waiting on the steps when I pull into the driveway. Her face lights up when she sees my car, and raises her arm in a frantic wave.

“Hey!” I say, as she launches herself into my legs, “have you gotten taller?”

“I don’t know. Nobody has measured me.”

“I think you have.”

She grins. “Maybe. You’re really tanned.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah, look,” and she holds her arm against mine, which is now a deep, golden brown. 

“Yeah, I suppose I didn’t notice.”

“Was it fun?”

“The beach?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, mostly! How about you?”

“My summer?” she says. “I already told you on the phone about five times.”

“I was hoping you’d regale me again so I wouldn’t have to talk about myself.”

She does an eye roll, which is remarkably teenaged. It’s like the first glimpse of the adolescent she’ll eventually become. “Boring, so boring. I hope you never get to hog the beach house all summer again.”

“I highly doubt I will.”

“Mom and dad got you a present, by the way.”

I blink. “What, really?”

“Yeah, something. I can’t tell what it is. They’re waiting for you in the kitchen.”

Sounds vaguely ominous, but okay. I follow her as she tears up the steps and from the hallway to the extension, where bright, harsh light spills across the parquet. The house is tidy and smells like bleach, the way it always does after the cleaner has been. By the island, my parents stand side by side, arms crossed, faces stern, as the dishwasher rumbles. 

Maybe it is ominous. 

“Hello,” I say guardedly. 

“Welcome back,” my mother says, in a tone that suggests I am, in fact, not very welcome at all, though she’s always had issues with sincerity. 

I look from her, to my father, then back. “Thank you.”

Ivy, already bored with this conversation, dashes out and begins thumping on the piano in the other room. 

“I, um, I locked up the beach house and made sure everything was switched off.” I volunteer. “So it should be good for next summer.”

“Good,” says Dad, and my eyes flit to a rectangular white box on the counter. 

“What’s that?”

“It’s for you.”

“Oh.” I approach it and turn it over in my hands. “It’s one of those phone things.”

The laugh that escapes my mother sounds halfway to a scoff. “I thought you young people knew all about those.”

“Yeah, I know about them. I’ve seen them.” I’ve tapped at the screens in the phone shops and laughed to myself at the idea that a person would ever really need something so excessively high-tech in their pocket, when we all have computers that work perfectly fine. “Is this the new one?”

“Yes,” she says, and I slide the lid off the box.

“Thank you.”

“It was your father’s idea, not mine.”

Dad shifts from one foot to the other, like the suggestion he might be generous by nature makes him uncomfortable. He mutters, “Lorcan, at work, has one. Says they’re excellent. Though he has the three.”

I tip the slim, white phone into my palm, and it lays there, cool metal on my skin. It’s like something from the future. “This is the four.”

“Yes.”

“Um,” I hit the sole button beneath the screen, and nothing happens. “It’s just funny, like, because I don’t really know what I’d use it for.”

“For a myriad of things.” Mom’s voice is barbed. “Look at the booklet. You can go on the internet, look at live maps, contact people abroad with no need to pay all of those roaming charges.”

“Yeah, all good things, I suppose.”

We lapse into silence as Ivy launches into double handed scales on the grand piano, and I stare at this piece of unnecessary tech, the black mirror screen fogging from the heat of my palm. 

“I’m just saying my old phone was fine, too. It had everything I needed.” 

To this, mom tuts and rolls her eyes. “Is it really so difficult for you to be grateful, for once? It’s a generous gift.”

“Yeah, it’s really generous. I appreciate it. I’m just surprised, is all, because it’s not like I’ve ever been a tech person, or whatever, but I’m sure I’ll realise it’s useful once I… use it.”

“There’s the attitude,” dad says, and I turn to him with a blink. 

“Excuse me?”

“See, Colette, this is the way he always is when you do him a kindness. It was this way with the car, too. Non-appreciative, shrugging it off. Then there was letting him use the beach house all summer, and what thanks do we get for that?”

“Seriously?” I cut in. “Thank you. Thank you for the house. Jesus, you didn’t even give me a chance to-”

Dad swipes something else off the counter, a sheet of paper with text and numbers on it, all looking so dull and so official that my eyes glaze over, even skimming it. “What’s that?”

“A bill.” He snips. “€1700 for a two-month gas bill! Are you kidding me?”

Heat rises to my face as Ivy starts pounding out rising arpeggios in a chromatic sequence in the next room. “Um.”

“Did you have the hot water on twenty-four seven? How is this even possible? I’ve never seen a bill like this in my life, Jude.”

“Dad, c’mon,” I abandon my new phone on a stool and take the bill from him, as though I can prove he has made some obvious mistake, but no, it’s clear as day, in a bold text for idiots like me to understand. €1700. “You know I can’t figure this bill stuff out. How was I supposed to know it’d cost that much? I have no reference for this kind of thing.”

“Anybody else would know. Every other child on the planet knows that gas costs money, and even if, by some stretch of the imagination, you did not, then I told you explicitly to turn the gas off at the boiler when you weren’t using it.”

I open my mouth and close it again. “I-” A scoff. “I didn’t know if I’d be able to turn it on again, did I?”

“Apparently not!”

“Jude, that’s ridiculous.” Mom says in a more even, but no less scathing, tone. “Use your common sense.”

“Well… It’s not like it’s a big deal, is it? You can just pay for that.”

“That’s not the point!” Dad cries. “It’s your careless attitude towards money. I sent you another thousand over the summer, and what did you do with it? I know you didn’t spend it on groceries.”

“I just spent it, I don’t know.”

“Those are new shoes.” Mom points out, and really, she doesn’t have to rat me out like that. We’ve never been friends, but we’ve at least had a common enemy. I can see a new line forming, and for the first time in my memory, they are united against me.

“I got sick on my other ones.”

“Why were you sick?”

I hesitate. 

“Jude. Do you have a substance abuse problem?”

“What? Why have you jumped to that conclusion? That’s-”

“Because you’re spending all of this money, and now you’ve been sick on your shoes. How do you think-”

“Oh. Me being sick on my shoes automatically means I’m an addict? You realise what a massive leap in logic that is, Mom?”

“I don’t know what else to think. You think we never noticed all of those late nights you had during school? What would-”

“Oh, my God, Ivy!” I yell, “Please stop playing the piano, for like, five minutes!”

“I’m practising!” she chirps back, and bangs out some increasingly complicated Bach study from the book I bought her last Christmas. 

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Christ, mom, have you sat with her during her piano practise even once this summer? Gotten her to go through those exercises? They sound worse than they did in June.”

“Now you’re avoiding the subject,” she snaps. “How much are you drinking per week? Are you using drugs?” 

I toss my hands in frustration. “I don’t fucking do drugs!”

“Language!” both my parents yell, and I roll my eyes. 

“This is besides the point, anyway. The fact is that you only gave me €500 to spend for the entire summer at first, Dad. How was that supposed to last me, anyway? It feels like you set me up to fail.”

“I set you up with a modest budget to learn about how to handle your finances whilst living on your own.”

“Well, then, you set up a test without telling me it was a test. That’s hardly fair.”

“It was very obvious.”

“Who was it obvious to?”

“It would be obvious to anybody who knew how to think.” He says, prodding a finger against the side of his head. “Think critically. Employ a bit of sense. That’s who. But look at you. Incapable of even that. I should have suspected.”

“Why are you so dramatic all the time? Huh? It doesn’t have to be this way. I didn’t do so badly this summer. I did all the things you asked in that email. The place is clean, sheets changed, towels washed and dried and put away. I broke a single plate, and that was it.”

“That was your basic responsibility.”

“Nothing is good enough for you, is it?”

Mom’s mouth flattens. “You’re twisting things, Jude.”

“Look, this is about the bill. I get it. I’m sorry. If it’s such an enormous deal to you, then fine. I’ll pay it. When I sell my car, I’ll use some of the money on this. Does that seem fair?”

“We already expected as much.”

“Then, fine. It’s all sorted. I’ll do that. Lesson learned.”

They just look at me, faces unreadable, but their body language makes me itchy, like they’re hiding some infinitely worse piece of information. 

“What?”

Beginning // Prev // Next

I've gotta thank the wonderful @sirianasims for pitching some ideas for this particular section of the story! I've had such a good time running with them

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

Audacity

Im not allowed to look at the new ship event map pls i cant be in here imma start barking

Rated: Explicit | Warning: Matty kinda mean but like it hot (he barely mean tbh)

The Puppeteer does not believe you even with his bare hand in your pants, fingers brushing and feeling just how much he affects you. He pushes you further against the way, his eyes narrow but it does not match the malicious voice.

“And then what?” Two fingers pushing the cloth shielding your quim to the side, “What's the next step of your plan?” God, you were not joking or lying! You are actually wet, he can feel the beginnings of it and the way you are already biting the corner of your lip to keep your voice down. Matthias only scowls because he pushes a finger inside and you wrap your arms around his neck, hiding your face in the crock of his neck— The Puppeteer is glad you cannot see now how bright his cheeks are with blush.

“Well?!” Snappy, his voice faltering a bit to sound unaffected.

“I ah wanted to ah show,” Hot puffs of air against his skin, “How badly… Need you.”

As if he does not already know, God, Matthias knows all too well how much you love him. Of course, there is still a part of him that thinks you are not that in love with him. Affectionate as you, easily smiling for others or often speaking with a particular Novelist— It irks him until you do things like this.

Could call you a whore, a hussy, and other words but he would feel guilty though you would only moan louder.

“Shh,” Slowing his pace when he put two fingers inside of your heat, “You can't be loud.” Should have just found a room to hide in and not some hallway, “Can’t you—”

“Mathias,” Needy, “Mathias.” Saying his name as you open your legs a bit wider. He hisses when your teeth bite his neck greedy to mark him as usual. His other hand lifts your leg up to hook around his waist, his finger reaching that sweet spot that makes him quickly grab and pull your hair. A yank backward to seal his lips over yours, swallowing your moans that dare to escape as you easily cum quicker than normal. The fact you were that turned on is… Mathias does not stop kissing you even as you are out of breath, dizzy, but now incredibly more needy.

“Don't stop,” Even as you ride out your orgasm you still want more, “Please, Matthias.” Getting louder.

“Damn it,” Hushing you but he knows you are not going to be quiet at this point, not when you are overstimulated and looking drunk with neediness. “Can't you at least try to be quiet?”

“Matthias.”

“I will stop.” Pulling his fingers out, though it to get his cock, out you covered your mouth trying to silence yourself just so he would not stop.

You are going to be the death of him.

Part of him, a lot of him, hates having you be quiet but given how risky this spot this is… The Puppeteer needs you just as badly as he lowers his pants and adjusts the position he has you in to slide home.

A low groan from his throat, your teeth biting into your palm.

A few seconds to bask before Matthias is moving like time is not on his side— Because it is not. The paintings on the wall move a bit as his pace is fast and rough, a mess of grabbing and shutting himself up as he fucks you. Only with you would he do something this ridiculously risky.

[niniane17]

I know it's 2024 and nobody cares anymore (I hope), but I finally watched Adam Driver's latest interview about Star Wars that he made about two months ago and I felt like commenting on it, because why not?

Quite frankly, I don't know why anyone is so surprised. What he said, essentially, is something we already knew: that there was no Great Plan on the sequel trilogy and that Kylo Ren was originally conceived as an unsympathetic, irredeemable character that got popular against the production's intentions.

Mind you, I'm not happy about any of this. But surprised? Nah. In fact, my only consolation is that I sensed bullshit all the way back in 2018, when I looked at Kylo Ren's haunted face and thought "this is gonna be another Loki: rooting for him will only end in heartbreak". Then the Rise of Skywalker happened, and it was so bad that basically turned me into a Kylo -and yes, even Reylo- fan overnight. As I said many times, the shortest way to make me love a character is to treat them unfairly. It doesn't matter to me if they are "good" or "bad": fiction isn't reality and it doesn't follow the same rules. In fiction, the most important thing is to be consistent: among other things, you have to make sure you follow up to all the things you've planted beforehand (unless, of course, there's a theme about incompleteness or something).

I was angry on his behalf for a good while, I can only imagine feeling like this for years. I said before that I got the feeling Ford had basically improvised the whole scene with Adam Driver, but now I'm wondering if maybe he was also the one who pushed for Kylo's redemption too. At this point, I wouldn't be surprised. Somebody had to point out that people watch Star Wars for the Skywalker family, hoping they get a happy ending.

How the fuck could the whole production be shocked that redemption -especially redemption for a Skywalker- was Star Wars' big theme? Especially AFTER they decided to make a sequel trilogy NOBODY had asked for? I guess this is what happens when a franchise gets lost in too much lore and details, or huge space fights.

Anyway, I'm sorry for Driver because it's clear they wasted his talent, but on the bright side, it put him on the map and now we can enjoy him in more projects.

[linked-through-the-centuries]

To help explain personality/chaos levels/Vibes for each of the Links, here’s how I imagine all of them would drive if cars existed (loosely ranked from best to worst, it’s not a hard set scale):

Twilight: Literally perfect, has never hit the curb before in his life, always uses his turn signal, never speeds, has never been pulled over. Driving with him feels SAFE and he makes sure everyone is comfortable and ready to go BEFORE he starts the car. He will tell everyone off for being too loud and tell them he needs to focus on the road, and he also checks the traffic maps before he goes anywhere so he knows the best route to take because he gets anxious sitting in heavy traffic. Most likely to have a minivan to drive ‘the kids’ around in, and also a pickup truck for work

Calamity: Perfect driver, both hands on the wheel always. The car ride is dead silent because he’s mute and also refuses to put on music, plus he’s not that talkative anyway, so it’s up to whoever’s in the car to talk if they want to. Would probably drive a small black SUV

Past: The kind of person who you cannot read whether or not they’re a good driver just based on vibes, but are surprisingly good. Sometimes stops are a bit rough and maybe they’ve hit the curb once or twice, but has never been given a ticket. Would have an older car that they’ve taken good care of, like an early 2000s Toyota Corolla

Mask: He’s a good driver, he’s just so stressed he has a death grip on the wheel and if people don’t let him over on the highway or he can’t merge over on surface streets he will burst into frustrated tears. Has to have the music turned up loud enough so that Hylia can also hear it, but without it he’ll be too much of a nervous wreck to drive. Would drive an SUV, he couldn’t handle anything bigger (he’d get too stressed out)

Sky: His kindness and music taste makes up for the fact that in a fifteen minute drive, you gripped the handle and feared for your life once. He asks if people are buckled up before he starts the car because one time he braked so hard Mask’s face bounced off the dash and he still feels bad about it. Would drive a smaller car and it’s definitely bright red

Minish: Inexperienced, and sometimes forgets to put on his turn signal. Has ran a red light once or twice. He’s 15 so he wouldn’t have his own car, he’d probably use Twilight’s or Wars’s

Warriors: He has never been in a crash that was his fault, which no one believes because getting in the car with this man feels like tempting the reaper. The kinda guy to hit a pot hole that leaves the car making a brand new sound and just go “OOPSIES!!!” but he cries himself to sleep over it. He either screams along to his playlists or he tells you the hottest gossip you’ve ever heard. Usually has an iced coffee in one hand and waves it around when he talks. Would have a Ford Escape, but like a 2013 Ford Escape specifically. He also checks the traffic maps before he leaves because he likes to he efficient and will leave very early for whatever event he’s going to

Tune: He’s never been the direct cause of a crash and that’s what’s important. He calls his car “ol’ girl” in the most respectful loving manner, and treats the car better than anything else in his life. That being said, he is a truly awful driver and would have a little old sports car

Hyrule: Struggles to stay in the lanes because he gets distracted by landmarks. Past has had to grab the wheel and steady it on more than one occasion. HAS hit another vehicle because he stopped too late. He’s also run several red lights because he thought he could make it

Tears: Better at off road driving than on road driving. You need to take a car up the side of a mountain? Tears is your guy. Otherwise don’t get behind the wheel with them, EVER.

[snugglylime]

Isla Sorna AU Snippet

Based on this post

Miraculously, no one dies.

Not so miraculously, they don’t shipwreck on a Costa Rican beach. The vegetation and humidity here are similar enough to that of Isla Nublar that for a moment Ben wonders if they somehow managed to make one big circle and end up right back where they started. 

But the beach is hopelessly vacant of docks and stretches on for miles, lined on one side by a smattering of jagged rocks and on the other by a bright green spill of jungle. Beyond the jungle is a fold of mountains bulging against the sky, a stark contrast to the lone peak of Mt. Sibo on Isla Nublar. 

Which means this can’t be Isla Nublar. 

As he scrambles up the sand and away from the harsh surf, he tries to remember the maps he’d studied before the trip. Jurassic World, Isla Nublar, a lone island off the coast of Costa Rica. There’s nothing between Isla Nublar and Costa Rica to the North or East and going too far West would strand them in the Pacific. They must’ve gotten turned around and gone South, in the exact opposite direction of Costa Rica. 

“Kenji!” Ben shouts half mad, half wild.

It’s unfair of him to pin the blame on Kenji rather than whoever put Kenji in charge, but he’s the one who lost the compass and got them turned around. So much for yacht experience. 

Kenji’s head pokes up from where he’s sprawled on the sand looking like a dead starfish. “Look man, I know this isn’t great-”

“Isn’t great?” Ben laughs mirthlessly. “Isn’t great? We’re going to die because of you!”

“Ben,” Sammy rushes forward on her hands and knees and grabs his shoulder. “It’s not his fault. It was an accident.”

“He was careless,” Ben insists. “And now we’re shipwrecked on an island we definitely won’t survive on.”

Everyone goes silent. Even Sammy, who usually braves things with a smile, turns ashen. It’s an unspoken fact that Ben is the survivalist of the group, and if he sees the situation as hopeless, then it must be so. 

“We can’t just give up,” Darius says. “If we can just get our bearings-”

“You don’t get it,” Ben groans in exasperation. “There were supplies on Isla Nublar. Food, shelter, weapons. We survived because InGen tamed the island. Here we have nothing.”

“That’s not true,” Sammy says. “A few cans washed up-”

“That’s not enough!” Ben snaps. 

“Ben,” suddenly Yaz is at his side. “Cut it out. I’d rather not spend my last few hours alive listening to you babble about how screwed we are.”

That shuts him up. He hadn’t expected anyone to agree outright with his pessimism. He’s used to their exhausting optimism and refusal to believe that things won’t turn out all right in the end. But when he turns to look at her, all he sees is the slight tremble of her lips. 

Oh. 

He glances around. Everyone is waterlogged, downcast, and exhausted. They certainly don’t need him to tell them what’s already glaringly obvious. 

They’re going to die. 

[infin-8-morphosis]

So the past few days I've been working on the world map again and I. Welll I've run into a problem. A big problem

See. Theres a big crater.

(Map rotated so it doesnt take up 4 screens lmao)

And ummm. errr. I never really considered something important. How big the thing hitting it is.

That box you might be able to see is 'another planet'. In order to fit the size of the crater it has to be. fucking. huge. Like possibly ten times the size huge. However the fact things squash i assume the crater wouldn't be perfectly round so it would maybe be wierd and flat.

However either way this is so. So much. How is gravity affected? Tectonically a lot of time is implied to have passed so what would even happen then.

However i like the idea of enormous deep crater because as sloppily modelled in the second pic, i had an idea. Marianas trench is what, 10 km deep? Imagine the depth of this thing being even 1% of the planets diameter (its a bit smaller than earth) and therefore. Imagine the insane pressure.

And therefore what is at the bottom.

I need to show this to some reddit nerds for them to tell me 100 reasons this wouldn't work and is completely ridiculous

Anyway that's cool and all. but it gets cooler. or maybe hotter. Since the crater is coincidentally on the bright side of this tidally locked system (Its a moon so it still has day and night but largely only one side gets most of the sunlight) and the way the seasons on it work is that it has an elliptical orbit that gets further and closer to the sun every 'year'.... What if the difference in sunlight and heat... melts the giant ice spot every year. causing a seasonal tide system where its real high in summer and low in winter. oh yeah. think about it. seaside towns at water level in summer and high on cliffs in winter.... seasonal islands and paths... ooouuurgghhh....

Though it wouldn't actually work I'm pretty sure. Because the pressure would make it stay ice anyway. BUT. Its reasonable sounding enough right? You'd believe it and think I understand science if I put this in my worldbuilding right. You also think plausible seasonal ice spot tide is more important than full realism. Yes you do.

Anyway probably the bigger problem is that I've envisioned the like, lowland of the crater being a flat, wet jungle that has a delta on one point of it. And ummm. Errr. I dont think the edge of the crater is flat. Not at this scale at all.

I was having trouble visualising this from an individual perspective though. What would it look like to actually be on the crater? How would the curvature work? So of course I used the finest tech to envision this.

Spore galactic adventures.

(Hey can we talk about how before its time GA was and how cool and good it still looks it still looks good and its so cool)

Honestly not sure what to do with any of this. I'm at least going to have to rethink the edge a lot.... And I already drew it too...

Seems the jungle is going to have to be way steeper and maybe have no delta. (Giant waterfall also cool) Not sure how the drop would work. Like would the atmosphere be denser. Or would it even out. or something. Lots to think about and learn be dunked on by nerds for being wrong about (fun).

[pensat-i-fet]

A bonding trip, Part 2 (Mason Mount x Reader)

Part 1

Word count: 2154

Masterlist

Wattpad

“We are lost”.

“How Mount? How did we get lost?”

And I guess we are back to square one.

“Well, the map said…”, he tries to defend himself.

“I can’t believe you. I told you what to do, but no, you had to believe your instincts and now I follow you to help you and we are both lost”.

My attempts to connect my phone to any wifi are futile. We are in the middle of nowhere and only have a map that is worthless. Fantastic.

“What time is it?”

“6.30”, I answer. “It’ll get dark soon. How are they going to find us?”

“They will. They can’t let me here alone to die”.

“You’re doing it again, Mount”.

“What am I doing?”

“Making it all about you”, I tell him, rolling my eyes.

“You know what I meant. They’ll want to find both of us”.

An hour passes and no one is there. And then two hours and…still nothing.

“Should we try to move around a bit to see if there is something that shows us where we are?”, I suggest. “Mason?”

But when I turn to look at him, I struggle to find him in the dark. He is sitting on a rock, looking at the ground.

“Are you ok?”

“No. You’re lost because of me. We are going to have to spend the night here. What if something happens?”

“We’ll be fine. I’ve camped in the woods before”.

“I’m sorry”, he says but it comes almost as a whisper.

“It’s ok. It could have happened to anyone…”.

“No, it happened to me because I wanted to impress you but I should have let you guide us. You’re better at it than me. Like you were better at shooting and painting yesterday”.

“And like I am at football?”, I try to joke to break the ice.

“In your dreams”, he jokes back.

Seeing that he’s doing a bit better, I go up to get my emergency backpack. 

“We got some food, a torch, blankets…”.

“Of course, you thought of picking one of those up”, he says.

“You should appreciate how lucky you are being paired with me”.

“I always have”.

I really cannot deal with these conflicting feelings while being lost in the woods. So I start to organize everything we have so we can have our dinner. It doesn’t look very appetising but we don’t get to choose from a gourmet menu tonight.

                                   **

“Should we try making a fire?”

“Mason, you’ll end up burning the whole forest. It’s not even that cold. The blankets will be fine. Let’s try to find a smooth surface to lay down”.

We do find it and get the blankets ready. I’m actually not sure this will be enough to keep us warm but again, no more options. 

“I’m cold”, says Mason.

“Just close your eyes and try to sleep”.

Stupid advice, keeping in mind mine are wide open. But at least the sky looks beautiful with all the stars shining bright. So I got a nice view.

“I’ll die because of how cold it is. How can you be so mean?”

“Stop whining, Mount. What am I supposed to do?”

“Come closer”.

Hell no. 

“Why?”

“Body heat”.

I turn to give him a look. “It’s not that cold”.

“I’m cold. I swear”.

I shouldn’t do this. I shouldn’t do this. I shouldn’t…

“Ok”.

I move to get closer to Mason but I still stay on my back. He can get body heat from my arm, I guess. My leg too?

“That’s not going to do it, is it?”

I can’t face him right now, so I turn on my side and let him hug me from behind. 

“You can relax”, he whispers. And the fact that his breath is caressing my neck when he speaks is not helping me relax…at all.

I try to convince myself that this is just us surviving. We would be doing this with anyone just so we can stay warm. But then he starts to draw circles on my arm with his cold fingers and my meditation is interrupted.

But, somehow, I end up falling asleep.

                                  **

The sound of people yelling wakes us up. The sun is already out and shining bright. So bright that it takes me a second to be able to properly open my eyes and see the position I’ve been sleeping in for God knows how long.

Now Mason is on his back, still embracing me with his arms. And my head ended up on his chest somehow. And I also can’t explain how our legs ended up tangled up but they did.

“Mason, wake up”, I tell him, sitting up and finally being able to work out what the yelling is all about. It’s people looking for us. “They’ve found us”.

I get up and stretch before yelling back at them so they know where we are.

“We are saved”, says Mason, dramatically falling back on the ground.

                                  **

By the time we are back to the camp, I just want to shower and lay down on a real bed. My entire body hurts.

But then I see him.

“Connor?”

I run towards him and hug him tightly. It’s been so long since the last time we saw each other.

“Hey, you. I was told you were lost in the woods. What on earth was that about?”

“Mount’s fault. But I’m back now”.

We are still laughing and catching up when I see Mason walking past us and frowning. 

“Can you convince them to let you stay with me today? There is no way I can do any activities and I don’t want to be alone”.

“You could stay with Mount”, says Connor, laughing at his own comment. He still doesn’t know we now get on well with each other.

“I rather stay with you”.

“Then you will. What do you want to do?”

                                  **

Connor and I spend the day in my cabin playing games, reading and just watching some shows. It’s all I needed after my little adventure in the woods.

But I also wonder what Mason is up to. I didn’t see him at breakfast, but maybe he decided to go with the others to take part in today’s activities.

“Should we go have dinner? I think everyone’s back”, asks Connor.

“Yes, let’s go”.

We see a couple of groups arriving, laughing loudly.

“What did you do today?”, I ask.

“Paintball. So sad you missed it”, says Pernille.

“That’s a bummer. It’s so much fun. We’ll have to organize another match when we are in London”.

“We missed you there”, tells me Azpi. “It would have been so much more fun with you and Mason shooting each other”.

“Who got to kill him?”

“No one. He didn’t come with us”.

So he was there but didn’t ask to spend time with me? Well, with Connor and with me. I don’t know why but that bothers me.

I join the same group I always eat with for dinner, but now it includes Connor. Thankfully, the girls don’t mind him being there.

But by the time we are done eating, I want some alone time. So I excuse myself to go for a little walk.

“Don’t get lost again!”

I make sure to go to the areas I know well and it’s there I find Mason.

“Hey, I didn’t see you today”.

He lifts his head to look at me quickly before going back to looking at his phone. “You were busy”.

“Yeah”, I laugh. “I’m really happy Connor is back”.

I look at him when he doesn’t say anything and see him scrolling on Instagram, but not really looking at anything.

“You ok, Mount?”

“Sure”.

That doesn’t sound very sincere. His tone and his posture show me I’m not someone he wants to talk with. So I excuse myself and go back to my room.

And even though I think I’ll sleep really well, I can only think about Mason and his reaction to me. Why is he acting like that?

                                **

The last day in Scotland is pretty boring. We don’t have much to do and spend half of the morning packing and getting ready to leave.

A part of me is hoping Mason will ask me to sit next to him on the flight home but when I see him next to Kai, I just shake my head and sit with Connor. 

                                 **

Being back in London means the real pre-season can finally start. And it’s kicking my ass with the double training sessions.

“Oh, hi! Sorry, I’ll leave”.

Mason just got inside the room where I’m taking an ice bath and I wish I could stop him from leaving but quick movements inside of this bath mean agony so I just yell at him.

“Mount! Come here. You don’t have to leave”.

“I don’t want to bother you”.

“You won’t, really”.

I try not to sound too much like I’m begging him to stay with me. But I want him to do it. He hasn’t spoken to me since we came back from Scotland and I really don’t get it. We were fine the morning we were rescued in the woods.

“You alright?”, I ask him while he gets in his bath.

“Yeah”, he says, shivering and making me laugh.

“We always find ourselves in the nicest situations, huh?”

But instead of answering, he just looks at me and then back at the floor.

“Mason, is there a reason why you are so cold with me right now?”

“You didn’t mind it when it was you doing it”.

I can see he’s trying to sound sarcastic and snarky but he sounds…hurt?

“Did I do something to offend you? Was it…was it because of what happened in the woods?”

That finally makes him look at me. “What happened in the woods?”

“Well, you know”, he’s really going to make me say it. “We slept together. Like, not as in having sex but…you know. I thought maybe you felt weird after that”.

The way he’s staring at me now makes me want to look away, but I won’t. I need an answer.

“No, sleeping next to you isn’t the reason I’m avoiding you”.

“So you recognize you have been avoiding me”.

“Anyone could notice that”, he says, rolling his eyes. “I was actually just trying to make everything easier for you”.

“How?”

“Well, you clearly hated being that close to me. You were so stiff, I was worried you would injure yourself”.

“It wasn’t…I wasn’t…”.

“It’s fine. I got it the next day. And don’t worry. I won’t tell Connor”.

Wait a minute…

“What does this have to do with Connor?”

“You two are together”.

The laugh that comes out of me is such that I end up moving too much and then the laugh is replaced by pain. Stupid ice baths.

“Connor and I aren’t together, Mason”.

“Don’t lie to me. When you saw him, you ran to him and jumped in his arms. And then you spent the whole day in your room. Do you expect me to believe you were playing board games? Either you’re together or are fuck buddies or…I don’t care. I just…I won’t bother you two. Don’t worry”.

I can’t help but look at his flushed face and smile. He really is an idiot.

“Are you jealous, Mount?”

“Yes!”

And that only makes the smile wider.

I turn to get my towel and get out of the bath slowly before making my way to his.

“What are you doing?”

But before he has time to say more, I get inside his bath, which isn’t really the best idea but I don’t care.

“Connor and I are just friends and yes, we were playing board games, you stupid silly boy”, I say, putting my arms around his neck. “And I was stiff when you wanted to sleep so close to me because I like you and being near you like that was only making my feelings more obvious to me. And I didn’t want to embarrass myself”.

“Oh”.

“Yes, oh”, I laugh, getting even closer to him. “I never hated you. But I always liked you. Do you like me back?”

“Yes”, he says, breathless. 

“Just yes?”, I tease. 

“Yes. I like you. And I always have. And if you and Connor aren’t together, you better kiss me right now or I’ll die".

I laugh at his comment, enjoying this teasing way more than I should.

“What would you do if I don’t kiss you, then?”

“I could tell you or I could show you”.

“Show me, then”.

And he does. He closes the distance between us and presses his lips against mine. One, then twice…until I’m too tired of him trying to tease me now, so I grab the sides of his face with my hands to kiss him properly. Like I should have done it a while ago.

[latibvles]

Gonna throw you a bit of an AU. 'Brown iodine stains on skin' for Daisy (yes, Daisy) and whatever flyboy you feel appropriate or interesting.

DAISY AND THE FLYBOYS? DAISY AND THE FLYBOYS. that would be an excellent band name but I digress. I was kind of giggling to myself writing this. wherever she goes she's going to have gray hairs over these soldier boys (affectionate)

—

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to this.

It’s not a thought that he’ll express anywhere besides in his own mind, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s having that thought at all. Thirty men one day, twenty on another, did you see any chutes? How many? What bearing? What time? He knew what he signed up for, it’s not that he’s complaining about it. He just doesn’t know how to make sense of it. How people can be there and gone in a minute.

And he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to it.

“You ought to get that looked at,” Dr. Stover cautions, eyeing a few of the cuts on Gale’s face. “After interrogation.”

“Major, here,” chimes the voice next to him, softer but a little more urgent — fingers wrap around his wrist and there’s a hand pressing a small rag unceremoniously into his hand. He winces at the sting of it against his palm. His eyes settle on her as she loosens her own grip, staring up at him with big dark eyes and equally dark furrowed brows. “Wouldn’t want to bleed on the maps.”

For a moment Gale can only stare at her, because if he’s being completely transparent — he still feels like part of him is up there and hasn’t come down quite yet. Hadn’t realized he’d even cut his hand until she’d drawn attention to it, so he just stares at her lips pressed into a line, her warm brown hair tucked neatly into her nightingale cap, her face fresh as a—

“Daisy, why don’t you head over to the hospital. That landing strip looked pretty busy.” Her gaze snaps back to Stover, and she nods with a quick ‘yes, sir’, scurrying off before Gale can so much as choke out a thanks for the rag he was now holding to his own palm.

The interrogation is as chaotic as ever as they try to go over everything they’d just witnessed. It should’ve been easy, considering it’d just happened moments ago. But sitting in the chair, pressing a rag to his wrist, weighing in when needed — Gale can feel the weight settling in his bones, his shoulders. He’s slow to stand when they’re dismissed, letting the other guys filter out before him, partly because he knows how eager they are to leave and partly because it’s all he can really muster as he blinks back into some semblance of consciousness that isn’t so tethered to basic instincts.

He assumes that’s why, when he’s finally made his way over, the hospital isn’t as chaotic. Those who needed beds are in beds, with a nurse or a crewmate by their side, and Gale stands in the doorway watching for a long, silent second. A nurse with honey-blonde hair smiles at him, something bright and welcoming.

“Major Cleven! Take a seat right over there. We’ll get’cha situated in a minute,” she gestures to one of the chairs posed between empty beds, and Gale makes a point to return the smile as he moves to sit where she’d instructed. It’s in this buzzing quiet, only accented by the occasional murmurings of the few men in the room, that he lets out a long, heavy breath. No way in hell he’ll ever get used to this.

He sees the brown iodine stains on her hands before noticing the metal tray of instruments in her hands: bandages, cotton, scissors, thread, antiseptic. And then the crisp whiteness of her uniform, in spite of that.

“I didn’t think you’d show,” Gale lifts his gaze again. The nurse from before, Daisy, is smiling this time, and he notes the dimple in her cheek. He waves the now stained rag in his free hand.

“Figured you’d want this back.” He offers as she sits down on the edge of the bed, taking it from him with a click of her tongue.

“Ah, yes, my lucky hanky,” she hums, fingers brushing against his cheek as she turns his head. She wets the rag with the antiseptic and starts on his face. Gale doesn’t flinch on the sting.

“What makes it lucky?”

“Usually if I give it away there tends to be a pilot attached to it when it comes back,” She looks at him then, but only for a moment before shifting her attention back to his cuts. “And they’re usually the ones who would otherwise need to be dragged here kicking and screaming. So I’m, uh, fairly lucky to avoid that fuss.” Daisy’s quick with his face, leaning away and looking over him before nodding to herself. “Just let me…” she takes his arm again, bringing his palm to her.

“Lucky I don’t kick or scream then, huh?”

“Oh definitely, there must be extra magic in it today,” She doesn’t even look up as she says it, doesn’t miss a beat as her fingers smooth over the skin of his palm. They’re rough, which he wasn’t expecting and hadn’t noticed before, but they’re steady, too. “Lucky for you this won’t need stitches. How’d it happen?”

Gale leans back in the chair, eyes the gash and furrows his brows. He can’t for the life of him remember how that happened. There’d been a lot happening, all things considered. Their whole fort was practically a jagged mess of sharp edges. She’s looking at him now and while she isn’t smiling her face is just… soft, he wants to go as far as to say it’s probably a little knowing — if the roughness of her hands and her good-luck-hanky are any clues.

“Okay, how about this — got your shots?” That, he can answer, so he does.

“Yes ma’am.” She snorts at that, shaking her head a little.

“Don’t call me ma’am,” Back in with the cotton, cleaning the cut, which stings a little more. “Lucky you, then. You’ve avoided the big needle.”

“What, is it that bad?” He asks, and he can’t help the smile making its way onto his face.

“If you’re scared of needles then, yes. Are you scared of needles Major…”

“Cleven,” He finishes as she reaches for the roll of bandages. “No, can’t say that I am, Nurse…”

“Clarke,” Her turn to finish, as she wraps his hand round-and-round. Daisy Clarke, then. “Then maybe you would’ve been fine either way,” she assents as she reaches for scissors to cut the bandages.

Gale curls his hand into a fist, then unfurls it, letting his hand breathe once she finishes, and Daisy watches him for a moment before rising to her feet.

“Try to hold off on any fist-fights and if you bleed through those feel free to stop by to have them changed out, okay?” she dusts off her hands, even though the brown stain still clings to them. Gale nods.

“Yes ma’am,” he parrots. The look she gives him is narrow-eyed, but there’s a smile on her face as she stares, taking the tray with her as she walks off again.

Gale thinks, for the briefest moment, that he might be feeling a little lighter.

[blackjackkent]

OK, loading up the map in preparation to go hunt down Gortash, and I notice something veeeeeeeery interesting.

Wyrm's Rock waypoint no longer exists.

The quest journal also indicates that invading the Iron Throne and rescuing Ravengard et. al. was the point of no return on any possible alliance with Gortash, not that we were going to take that anyway.

So I'm going to take this to mean that probably everyone in Wyrm's Rock has been given orders to kill us on sight. We need to go there, however, because Gortash is hanging out in his office there waiting for us.

So this is a shame... for them. >:) Time to chug a hill giant potion and Get Down To Business.

Called it.

It looks like we basically have to fight every Flaming Fist between Basilisk Gate and the door of Enver's office - as well as their big metal buddies.

Combat highlights as we work through the fortress:

This is our first time trying to fight a Steel Watcher and goddamn do they have a lot of health. (206 HP on Balanced Difficulty) But they take a fist or a trident or an owlbear claw or a greatsword or a hamster to the face just as well as anybody.

We're trying out Jaheira's new build, which is super fun and allows us to summon a dryad until long rest to travel and fight with us, raise fungal zombies out of dead enemies, and turn into an owlbear and rampage with more or less the same rage mechanic that Karlach and Minsc have. Team Juggernaut now officially includes all four party members. :D

This is our first time trying to fight a Steel Watcher and goddamn do they have a lot of health. (206 HP on Balanced Difficulty) But they take a fist or a trident or an owlbear claw or a greatsword or a hamster to the face just as well as anybody.

They do however also do this when they start getting low health:

This definitely complicates the fight somewhat as it means they need to be finished off at range. They also start making the most incredibly anxiety-inducing noise once this condition is activated. O.O

The bright side is the damage from the explosion also hurts the Watcher's allies; one of the Fist got completely finished off this way.

Sent Jaheira running into the backline as an owlbear and she got this incredible low growl in her voice and went "I go hunting..." I love her.

Apparently her enrage mechanic, which can make nearby creatures Frightened, is also indiscriminate and could make our team afraid as well. I don't blame them but this does mean I need to be somewhat careful with her positioning. XD

Apparently killing a Steel Watcher triggers something called "Pursuit Protocol" which means for 20 turns every Steel Watcher in the city is hostile. This seems not particularly relevant to Hector's situation but I guess might be relevant if you were doing multiplayer and had split the party.

The somewhat nice thing about this team composition is that I've managed to reach a point where almost no one is using spell slots for anything significant. This is probably somewhere near the exact opposite of an optimal party setup, but it does mean short and long rest usage is basically entirely dependent on when the team gets too battered to continue. Which takes a while. XD

These are, however, definitely not easy fights. That self-destruction protocol really is quite devastating when it goes off, particularly combined with the fact that the Steel Watchers seem to be centered around CC skills. Their fundamental strategy seems to be "trap enemy in place and then explode on them".

I completely forgot I had given Karlach, many many moons ago, the Aspect of the Honey Badger, which auto-rages her as a reaction when she's Frightened, Charmed, or Poisoned. This is the first time I've actually seen it proc and it startled me. XD

(I did have to restart this fight once because I did some poor opening strategy before I understood how the Steel Watchers worked. o.o; RIP Tragically for Team Juggernaut, who excel in close quarters, range is very important here, so I don't really get to test out Jaheira's owlbear form. Better strategy: lots of zomber summons, Minsc throwing Nyrula, Hector opening with Stagger Flurry of Blows so he can back out after doing damage, and Karlach taking potshots with a crossbow. Boo keeps getting flattened immediately so we imagine him squeaking encouragement from the sidelines)

Look at me using Strategy and entangling the door where all the Fist are trying to come out of. \o/

This is actually a really hard fight jfc. Five watchers plus adds is no joke.

But we got through in the end, with everyone alive and only one reset! I think I'm getting better at this game. :D

[hollowistheworld]

Freedom of the Seas

For AURoulette2023, hosted by @astriiformes. It was supposed to be 'favorite historical era' but I don't know if it counts as a historical au with this much fantasy injected into it. But in my defense, Eli works really well as a magical pirate!

Also on AO3

Gin rested his chin and his front paws along the side of the boat and let out a miserable sigh. “I hate the water.” 

Miranda set a hand between his ears. “I know. Not much longer now.” 

“You said that a week ago.” 

She tugged lightly at one of his ears. She had, that was true, but pointing out that their quarry was proving harder to catch that anticipated was neither helpful nor appreciated. “Eli can’t run forever.” 

“He can, actually,” Gin retorted. “The ocean is very big.” 

Miranda couldn’t deny that. It hadn’t seemed so large on her maps, when she’d first accepted the message to hunt Eli to ground. But not only was she about to go crazy for want of the sight of dry land, it seemed that Eli Monpress never docked, or at least not for longer than it took his first mate to resupply. No shore leave for the crew of Home, it seemed. She didn’t understand how they hadn’t mutinied. 

She barely understood how she hadn’t mutinied, and this was her expedition. She couldn’t decide if she disliked the unrelenting beat of sunlight glinting off the water or the brutality of the storms more. She was either wet or hot, and sometimes she was both. And she couldn’t even commiserate with Gin, who was equally uncomfortable and also seasick.

“Ship off starboard!” a voice shouted from the crow’s nest. Miranda straightened, hope and adrenaline rushing into her at equal speeds. 

Gin barked and dropped down to all fours, hackles raising. 

Miranda leaned forward, gripping the rail, searching for the ship. 

Instead, she found fog, rolling in quick and silent. 

There had been no fog in sight when the lookout had called out. By the time Miranda’s focus had moved to the horizon, the deck was covered in it. Thicker and thicker, blotting out the sun, then darkening the ship until it could have been night. The crow’s nest disappeared from view, then the bow, then the very railing Miranda was standing against. 

“I would say I’m flattered,” said a charming, cocky voice from within the fog, “to have another hunter sent after me so quickly, but you aren’t even making it a challenge. Not a single cannon shot before I made it on board? Really?” 

Miranda had never met Eli, but it had to be him. Charming and cocky summed up every report she’d ever read about him, and odd weather patterns had come up plenty - though she hadn’t expected so much fog so quickly. 

She leaned toward Gin, her fingers gripping his fur so she wouldn’t lose him - she couldn’t even make out her own feet anymore. “Can you get us to their ship?” she asked, voice pitched so low she was barely speaking at all. A human standing on her feet wouldn’t have been able to hear, but that was one of the many advantages of working with Gin instead of with a human. 

Gin didn’t respond aloud. They didn’t know enough about Eli’s crew, what his abilities were, what he had aboard, if someone would be able to understand him, or to recognize his growls for what they were. 

Instead, Miranda felt his muscles tense under her fingers and then they were leaping through the darkness, landing with a soft thump on another deck.

“Thank you for your help,” Eli said, flashing the mist his most winning smile, despite the fact they couldn’t appreciate it. That was no reason not to be polite. “You just let me know if you need anything in return.” 

The mist bid a polite farewell, including an affectionate ruffle through his hair, and rolled away. Within a minute, the sunlight was back, as bright and cheerful as if there had never been a cloud in the sky. 

Eli turned to Nico and Josef and clapped his hands together with a broad grin. “Well, I think that went spectacularly!” 

“Not much of a fight,” Josef grumbled. “That was pathetic.” 

“Yes, yes, they don’t make bounty hunters like they used to, I know. Nico, how much did we get?”

“A thousand standards.” 

“Really? That’s it?” 

She shrugged, apparently not sharing his distress. “It’s a bounty hunter ship that hasn’t caught its bounty yet.” 

“I think we have, actually,” said a new voice. 

Eli froze for a moment. The advantage of having two crewmen and a semi-living ship was that there were never any surprises on board, never any new people with unknown motivations. 

But now there was a furious and triumphant looking red-haired woman standing beside the main mast with an enormous dog at her side. Somehow, the dog looked triumphant as well, and more than a little bit smug. 

“Ah,” Eli said. “I thought that bounty hunter ship was a little too easy. Have they resorted to tricks then?” 

“That’s rich, coming from you, Monpress. I’m not tricking the weather into committing crimes.” 

“I am not tricking anyone. And weather spirits don’t care what rules you’ve slapped around the world. I ask them for a storm or a rush of fog and as long as I ask nicely, they’re happy to oblige.” 

The enormous dog let out a deep, grumbling noise and stepped forward. A moment later, Eli realized why. Nico had moved around and toward them, obviously intending to make a move to get their uninvited guests off the ship, and the dog had noticed. Nico looked it over, her expression calculating, and turned her head slightly toward Eli. 

He shook his head. “What, exactly, is your plan here, Ms…?” 

“Miranda Lyonette. And my plan is to wake up your ship, have it beach itself on the next bit of dry land it gets near, and have my still intact team of bounty hunters come pick you up.” 

“Told you,” Josef said. “Too easy.” 

“You always say it’s too easy. You can’t fault me for not listening anymore.” 

“You never listened to begin with,” Nico said. 

“Hush.”

“Where’s the rest of your crew?” Miranda asked, looking around, one hand on her dog’s back, obviously braced for a fight. 

“This is it,” Eli said, sweeping out his arms to encompass his two friends and the deck of Home itself. “Josef, Nico, and Home. I take it you haven’t actually tried to talk to Home yet? Because she’s very much awake already, and I don’t think she’ll be very interested in sticking herself in the sand.” 

A flicker of uncertainty passed over Miranda’s face and Eli grinned. His grin broadened when the flicker vanished again - he loved an opponent that wouldn’t roll over and be done with it. It kept life exciting. 

He could do without the big dog and its big teeth though. He wasn’t really a dog person, and one that big was worse than most. 

The deck pitched under their feet. 

“The bounty hunters are chasing us again,” Home said. 

“Your friends have a lot of faith in you,” Eli said to Miranda, whose face was tight and serious, weighing up her options as she reworked her plan with the knowledge that Home wasn’t going to be turning on him. He hoped she didn’t just throw in the towel and have her dog paddle them back to the bounty hunter ship. That would be no fun at all. 

“They know I’m good at my job,” Miranda said coolly. 

Eli grinned. “Are you now? How many criminals have you managed to catch on these seas? You look a bit sunburned, Ms. Lyonette. Typically the sign of a rookie.” 

She straightened further, which was impressive, since her back had already been as straight as a pole. Eli’s smile stretched wider. “That’s what I thought.” 

“You aren’t getting away from me,” she said. “Your flashy tricks aren’t going to be enough.” 

“Flashy tricks?” Eli cupped a hand around his mouth. “If anyone could give me a strong wind heading south, it would be greatly appreciated!” 

A moment later the wind sped up, faster and faster, until they were speeding south, Home laughing all around them. 

Miranda jumped a little at the sudden speed, but otherwise looked unimpressed. Her dog huffed. 

“I wouldn’t call that a flashy trick,” Eli said smugly. 

“I would.” Miranda and the dog stepped back to the ship’s railing. Miranda held out a hand. “Mellinor?” 

Water rushed out of her, down the side of the ship and around the rudder. 

Home stopped with an offended noise. The sails reached for the south, pushed along by the wind. Water, a lighter blue than the ocean was supposed to be, bubbled around the water and pulled it north, back toward the bounty hunter ship. 

“I prefer to do this in a way that doesn’t rip your ship in half,” Miranda said. “Especially since she is fully alive and awake. But you will be coming back with me in handcuffs.” 

Eli crossed his arms over his chest. “I will not.” 

“I don’t plan on giving you a choice.” 

Josef drew one of his swords and took a step, apparently unfazed by the growling of Miranda’s dog. Nico stepped closer to Eli. “Her water’s loyal to her,” she said out of the side of her mouth. “Attacking her will make it dig in more.” 

Eli’s mouth pulled up. “Well, alright then, Miranda. I guess things are going to get interesting.” 

[alisheaburgess]

The Death of 'Me': A Travel Memoir Part 4 of "yes"

April 6, 2022 (Still chilling... but I effed up...) (Full Journey Map)

This day was not that chill, but I was really trying 😅

I still didn't have a whole lot of energy at this point but exploring was calling my name! So I was a bit more up and at 'em.

When I tell you that everything is different there, it's so freeing. The thing is, nearly nekkid people are walking around the city as ads... and everyone else was wearing anything from cheesy vacation clothes to formal wear. Nobody cares what you are wearing here.

I come from an area and an upbringing that 'prefers' being covered up. I can struggle to wear certain clothes that I feel like 90% of the population wouldn't bat an eye at. But here? Nope! I felt so free to wear whatever I wanted, for the first time. And I did. Obviously, I didn't have anything crazy but I did think to bring the outfits I couldn't bring myself to wear back home. It was colors and styles that were just more fun too. Stuff that stood out. I don't like to be seen so much, but nobody saw me here. And I loved it 😂

I was gonna get purdied up and go explore outside the hotel a bit. There was a promenade right outside the hotel... I'm not exaggerating either. It was so much fun.

I picked out an outfit to wear and was doing my hair and stuff. Nothing crazy... as expected. But after I get done with my makeup and everything, something felt off...

I didn't understand why my makeup was melting off my face. My face started kinda burning... Turns out, my precaution sunscreen under my makeup wasn't for your face! I should know this but didn't. It had been years since I had worn much less paid attention to makeup and skincare. It had been long enough that I forgot how sensitive my skin was!!! I shouldn't have been putting anything new on my face! 😅

But, I got it washed off... And now my face looks like a tomato. It doesn't even look burnt, just weird lol

This doesn't do it justice!!! It was bright red and stayed that way for days! 😅🤣 and I couldn't use any of the makeup I brought the whole week! (I wish I could make this picture smaller though lol)

So yeah, great start to exploring 😂

I was still so determined to go out. I figured that nobody knew me and maybe they would just think I was sunburnt if anyone saw. So away I went...

I did get to go out in the outfit I picked so I still felt pretty good. It was still liberating even with a tomato face hehe (I don't have any pics of the outfits because I wasn't planning to share...). For the next trips, I will be making sure to take more pics with me in them! These could almost be anyone's memories. I have very little proof to myself that I was the one that experienced this firsthand. Believe it or not, I have a really good imagination and can feel like I have been to places that I haven't. Which is why I think flying felt so familiar to me... I like the idea of flying off into nowhere so I imagine traveling and airports a lot... too much maybe 😅

With so much around me to go see, I knew I didn't have to go very far to see a lot of stuff and get a feel for things. I didn't expect myself to trek the entire strip or anything... But I wanted to feel like I went somewhere.

I don't think I was gone for even an hour before I felt like heading back. A huge start for me. I start small and then work myself up slowly. I made sure to return before I felt it was too much. I wasn't here to exercise my scaredy-cat muscles! Not specifically anyway...

Proof that I did in fact, leave the hotel... 😂😅

This is a slightly deceptive pic, however. This is only a small section of the hotel...

I walked a bit on either side of it. Which did end up being useful later on. Just from my little walk I could get a pretty good idea of where I was and the stuff around me. I had all but studied the map of the area surrounding my hotel when I booked... Maybe that's weird, I don't know 😅😂 It greatly helped my anxiety but was also just really fun. Maps are kinda fun.

Everything where I was had so much going on. The roads were dressed up, if that can happen... Everything is dressed up and expensive looking 😂

I thought this was a cute little cubby of restaurants. It was tucked into the side of fa bigger building, almost hidden.

I went to Guy Fieri’s restaurant, which was also… just downstairs from my room 😂 (The main message is I never had to go far, but got to do a lot… hehe)

I learned a lot here. Most importantly, if you have never had bourbon…let me describe my experience…

If shoes had butts… they would taste like bourbon… I will leave that there…

I was ready to pay for it still but they took it off my tab before I could even ask for anything else 😊 I was super grateful.

I don't know why I thought people were making a big deal about the burn of alcohol...I'm nearly 100% certain it's the taste they don't like now.

Everything else was delish, of course, 🥰 alcohol just isn’t for me. I would rather eat dessert, thanks. 😂

Something I just can't get over.

Ya'll have probably ridden in an elevator... but you know how it's a bit of a wait, right? It can get a little scary in some?

The elevators there go at the speed of light! And it's so smooth!!!

This shouldn't be such a big deal but it is 😂 They were so nice. Riding in the elevators was enlightening. You don't realize just how behind things are back home until you leave home!

I recorded it on my phone because it was that big of a deal to me. I was on the eleventh floor and it took SECONDS to get down.

I'm not adding the video here because it's crap quality, but it's only 37 secs, and most of that is me getting in and hitting the button 😅😂

That was how I spent my third day of the trip. Walking around and surviving...sorta XD

This experience I had really made me curious about what other places could unlock just from one visit. I was now more empowered to wear things I wanted to. What's next? What else don't I know? I can't wait to find out, honestly! 🥰 This felt like being in a different movie and experiencing everything from a different lens and as a new character. Suddenly there was a different writer or something. The music felt different. The ideas I had were new...

I don't have a whole lot recorded as I really didn't think about sharing this on here. So this is just what I remember and have to pictures to spark memories for. 😊 Thanks for reading!

[maniculum]

The College of Grotesque Arts -- Week Four

After I finished writing the material for this week, I thought to myself, “I feel like I’m writing a lot. Just how long is this?” So I checked the word count and this is over 5,000 words. That’s a whole damn college paper. I assign a 5,000-word essay each semester and my students get panicked looks in their eyes because they’ve never written anything that long. And this isn’t even an outlier — Weeks One and Three were both longer. Am I going into too much detail on these rooms, or is this a normal amount of words? 

Ahem. Anyway. Enough of me worrying.

Question: are those notes below the map itself actually any use? The ones that are a list of what appears in the actual entry? (I know that the original concept was probably that all the writing should fit in that space, but I also know myself, so I never actually expected to fit all of my excessive verbiage into that space.) Should I start leaving that part off? Anyone have thoughts? Also, I wrote those bits in pen this time so I could scan it. Do the scanned versions work better than the photographed versions? Practicality vs. aesthetic? Listeners, call in.

Content below the cut.

Room 1.22: f.23v

When the PCs open the door to this room, a rather damp and annoyed hawk flies out.

This room is entirely taken up by a 10ft-deep pool, inhabited by a number of bright red & pale green minnows. Some stairs lead down to the bottom of the pool.

Observant PCs will notice that one section of the pool wall does not have any algae growing on it. This section of the wall is an illusion — anything other than water or marine animals can pass through it as though it isn’t there. PCs walking (swimming) through it will find themselves completely dry on the other side as the water is filtered out when they pass through. They will also be rather thirsty: the filter isn’t supposed to affect bodily fluids, but the wizards never quite got it working right and it gives you a pronounced feeling of dry mouth. This same effect is active on the stairs, and likewise dries out anyone who walks up them.

(The hawk, if you were wondering, flew through from the other side and has been drying its wings on the stairs for a while now, unaware that this would have been done magically had it walked rather than flown. It’s confused and angry about ending up underwater unexpectedly.)

Room 1.23: f.24r

In a complete 180 from the last page, this one has so much crap on it that just begs to be included that I made the room huge in order to justify that. (It was randomly generated to be 20x30, but there was plenty of space just south of it to expand into.) This is another high-ceilinged room where the “floor” is actually just the top of a thick layer of soil. It contains seventeen pillars spaced through the room (shown on the map), but the pillars are entirely covered in thick, woody vines. The walls appear to have trelliswork built into them, and are likewise covered in vines. The ground cover is dominated by small, fragrant white flowers that detect as very slightly magical. A pond occupies the southwest, dominated by vines and reeds.

The most obvious feature of this room is a giant pit in the northeast corner. (Appendix A wanted there to be a pit trap in that east passage, but I’ve reinterpreted it.) This appears at first glance to be a garbage pit, but it seems that all the material in it is organic — in fact, it’s a crude composting operation that is the source for much of the soil all these plants down here are growing in. You might say it’s full of fertilizer, or you might say, “oh, that’s where all the animal waste is going.” It also has a bunch of those fragrant white flowers growing in it. And yes, the pit is blocking access to the east passage. Because I think it’d be funny if the PCs decided they had to go through it, that’s why. (If you want stats, it’s about a 20ft drop to the… contents, but you might want to assign damage as if it were only a 10ft drop, due to the padding. PCs will sink in it if they try to walk across it. The pit itself is roughly square, 20x20, and is 40ft deep in total — it’s about half full of stuff.)

Stationed near the pit (well, let’s say several feet away, not like, standing on the lip daring you to push it in) is Caretaker Two. (My attempts to minimize any humanoid/intelligent hybrid creatures running around and the obvious necessity to use that piece of art basically mean this has to be a Caretaker.) Caretaker Two is a long-limbed, long-torsoed, somewhat-humanoid construct about the size of a human child. It appears to be composed of green stone and wears a rather nice cloak and gown. The effect is spoiled (enhanced?) by its penchant for a quadrupedal gait — it can also climb on the walls and ceiling with no apparent effort. Caretaker Two collects organic waste from large sections of the dungeon to bring here, and is also tasked with repairing other Caretakers — it does the waste collection and/or compost distribution at night, but visits the locations of each other Caretaker in the dungeon at dawn after they’ve finished their “shift” and returned to their places. (After seeing that Pathfinder has make whole repair constructs, I figured there should probably be a Caretaker that uses that effect to fix other Caretakers.) Like Caretaker One, it is potentially dangerous, since it was designed to be able to deal with large and possibly hostile beaſts, but will cause no harm to the PCs unless provoked or obstructed in its duties. Stats:

Caretaker Two: CR 7, XP 3200; N Small Construct; Init +6; Senses Low-Light Vision, Darkvision 60ft, Blindsight 30ft; Perception +3

DEFENSE: AC 23, touch 17, flat-footed 17 (+1 size, +6 Dex, +6 natural); hp 60 (9d10+10) Saves Fort +3, Ref +9, Will +6; DR 5/-

OFFENSE: Speed 50 ft., climb 50 ft.; Melee 2 slams +13 (2d6+3); Spell-Like Abilities (CL 9; Save DC 13 + spell level) At Will: Cure Minor Wounds, Floating Disk, Make Whole; 3/day: Charm Monster, Deep Slumber, Telekinesis; 1/day: Hold Monster, Interposing Hand

STATISTICS: Str 16, Dex 22, Con 0, Int 0, Wis 16, Cha 1; Base Atk +9; CMB +11; CMD 27; Special Qualities Construct Traits, Blindsight 30ft

SPECIAL ABILITIES:

Spider Climb (Su): Caretaker Two can effortlessly climb sheer surfaces and ceilings as the spell spider climb, with the exception that it uses its normal climb speed to do so.

If provoked, Caretaker Two attempts to subdue with charm monster and deep slumber. If those don’t work, it will escalate to hold monster, then to protecting itself with interposing hand. If this has not neutralized the threat, Caretaker Two will attempt to subdue with nonlethal blows and/or additional attempts to use charm monster and deep slumber. If reduced below half hit points, it will escalate to lethal force, backed up by use of telekinesis. It may, at this point, attempt to push opponents into the garbage pit if they are in that area. Note that while Caretaker Two can use telekinesis 3/day, odds are good that it has already expended one use before the PCs arrive — it uses it to turn the compost.

The vines that cover the pillars and walls are inhabited by brightly colored red-and-blue songbirds.

The pond has a few black herons wading in it.

Wandering around this room are a handful of blostaethes. A blostaeth is a chicken-sized reptilian critter with fine scales and a few feathers (on its tail and at the back of its head) in red, blue, and green. They are equipped with: long, serpentine necks; short, feathery tails; a pair of three-toed legs; and no other appendages. A couple of them appear to be wearing small cloaks for some reason.

Yeah, we can’t just ignore that the artist gave those things clothing, can we? Raises some questions, so I better try and answer them. Okay, um, so blostaethes are actually very long-lived. Unlike most of the creatures in here, they’re not just descended from old experiments — the ones wearing cloaks are the originals. (The others are their young. They lay eggs rarely and mature very slowly.) Januaria’s heretofore-unmentioned apprentice, whom we’ll name Dervorguilla because that’s one of the more wizardy-sounding names on the list I’m using, took a liking to these particular beaſts and made them little cloaks because it’s cute. Caretaker Two was instructed to keep the little cloaks in good repair, untangle them when necessary, retrieve them if lost, and so forth. Absent instructions to the contrary, it’s still doing that. It’s also equipped with cure minor wounds to keep them in good health, which is how these creatures have survived for centuries without incident. That’s all a bit whimsical, but the artist forced my hand by giving these creatures accessories.

Anyway, the blostaeth is a friendly and docile creature. (The PC’s can’t take one; the Caretaker will stop them.) Its only unusual characteristic beyond its appearance and lifespan is a sort of breath weapon — once per day, it can breathe out a spray of seeds. These are the seeds of those fragrant white flowers all over the room. The flowers have two purposes: one, they mask the smell of the garbage pit; two, they magically enhance the properties of the compost, which is why the “just throw everything in a pit and hope for the best” approach is working so well. They shouldn’t be a threat, but here are some stats in case it’s needed:

Blostaeth: CR 1, XP 400; N Diminutive Magical Beast; Init +3; Senses Low-Light Vision, Darkvision 60ft; Perception +5

DEFENSE: AC 18, touch 17, flat-footed 15 (+4 size, +3 Dex, +1 natural); hp 14 (2d10+3); Saves Fort +3, Ref +6, Will +0; Immunities Aging, Disease

OFFENSE: Speed 10 ft.; Melee bite +3 (1d2-3); Space 2-1/2 ft.; Reach 2-1/2 ft.; Special Attacks Breath Weapon 

STATISTICS: Str 4, Dex 16, Con 10, Int 4, Wis 10, Cha 10; Base Atk +2; CMB -5; CMD 8; Feats Toughness; Skills Perception +5; Special Qualities Magical Beast Traits

SPECIAL ABILITIES:

Breath Weapon (Su): A Blostaeth can exhale a 10ft. conical spray of seeds as a breath weapon. This attack causes 1d4 damage and allows a DC 11 reflex save for half damage.  A Blostaeth can use its breath weapon once every day.

If excessively threatened, they bite and may use their breath weapon. A PC hit by the breath weapon may, in 3d4 days, notice that small white flowers are sprouting from their skin; the seeds can get embedded and grow in flesh. Being parasitized by flowers is not exactly healthy (1 Con damage per week), but isn’t hugely threatening either — the flowers are not difficult to find and pull out. Pulling them out stings a bit but does no appreciable damage.

Searching the room may reveal a huge golden trumpet stashed behind the trellises on the west wall, half-buried in the dirt and hidden by vines unless you look carefully. Right now it’s full of dirt, plant matter, and possibly bird poop. You should clean it up if you want to use it. Blowing this trumpet (which is difficult and might require a second person to help hold it up for you, as it’s almost ten feet long) will signal any Caretakers on this level of the dungeon to assemble in front of the trumpet-blower. (It will also make an extremely loud and not particularly melodious noise.) Upon arriving in front of the trumpet-blower, they will wait patiently for ten minutes. The idea is that you can summon them to give instructions; however, since none of the PCs are authorized to give those instructions, they just wait silently and then go back to what they were doing. If used in combat with the Caretakers, it will make them stop what they’re doing, but if they’re subsequently attacked, they’ll go back to defending themselves as before. If used outside the dungeon, it has a chance of having the same effect on any mindless constructs in a one-mile radius. (GM’s choice whether to assign a percentage chance or give the constructs some kind of save.) It cannot be used inconspicuously.

If any PC searches the compost pit (because you know someone’s going to) they’ll find, in addition to animal waste and plant matter, remains of various creatures from elsewhere in the dungeon. The Caretakers aren’t hugely consistent about bringing corpses to the pit — as evidenced by the bones elsewhere in the dungeon — but they do so often enough that it keeps there from being bones just knee-deep all over the place. This includes the remains of a few previous explorers, since at this point it would be weird if it didn’t. Let’s say four of them: William (fighter), Alice (bard), Elizabeth (paladin), and John (necromancer). (Gotta use up the normal names on this list, you know?) So if the PCs really want to play “archaeologist in the midden”, they can find those remains and any possessions those adventurers had when they died. Well, I say “any” possessions — anything metal would have been scavenged by Caretaker One, and the compost pit would have decomposed anything organic. So, really, “any non-metal possessions that are either made of stone or magically preserved in some way.” Again, best to randomly generate said possessions, I think — if it’s relevant, each of these past explorers is the PCs’ level +/- 1d4.

Any PC who jumps in the compost pit should have to save against disease. I don’t know which disease — GM’s choice. It’s not as bad as it could be, because, you know, it’s mostly just compost, but there’s still waste and carcasses that haven’t properly decomposed here.

Room 1.24: f.24v

The walls, floor, and ceiling of this large, oddly-shaped room are patterned with rust-stained holes. Examination will reveal that there used to be a number of large cages built into this room — someone has cleared the remnants out. (It was Caretaker One.) There are also remnants of glass enclosures that have shattered for one reason or another — watch your feet. In the south part of the room are two surviving enclosures.

Around the edges of the room runs a mezzanine, with stairs up to it on the east wall. On the mezzanine is another counter with cabinets and a shelf like the ones in Room 1.17 and Room 1.20. Unlike those, this has clearly already been ransacked — the only things left are broken glass vessels. The rest of the mezzanine is cluttered with broken bits of furniture. Three mostly-intact stone tables remain on the western portion. The eight pillars holding up the mezzanine extend all the way to the ceiling.

Back down on the ground, the surviving enclosure by the west wall is a glass terrarium with one side broken. It contains a miniature habitat, complete with miniature live trees, for a herd of miniature deer. With the side broken, the deer have escaped and can be found wandering over the rest of the room. (Not on the mezzanine, though, as they’re too small to get up the stairs.)

The surviving enclosure by the east wall is also glass, but fully intact. (The top is open, but it seems like it’s supposed to be.) It contains layers of dirt and plant matter, and seems to be dotted with hundreds of very small plant sprouts. These sprouts are the tails of biltwicks, strange little bluish worms with a plant-based tail and an odd, reddish, beaked head. I was going to make them harmless, but honestly I have this nagging feeling that this is becoming more of a pleasant tour than a dungeon crawl, so they probably need to be able to mess you up. Hm. They’re venomous.

In most respects, as far as game statistics are concerned, a biltwick is just a very strange-looking earthworm. (To my knowledge, there are no stats for earthworms, because why would you need them, so likewise there aren’t stats here.) There are two exceptions. First, like a lot of the other plant-creatures in this dungeon, any effect that wouldn’t work on a plant only has a 50% chance of working on a biltwick. they’re Part Plant, as codified in Room 1.26. Second, as mentioned, they’re venomous. If a PC sticks their hand in the enclosure or otherwise starts messing with them, they’ll bite.

Biltwick Venom: Injury; Fort Save DC 15; Onset 10 minutes; Frequency 1/minute for 10 minutes; Effect 1d2 Str; Secondary effect unconsciousness; Cure 2 consecutive saves.

Anyone under the effect of biltwick venom will spend 20 minutes unconscious for every point of Str damage they took. This does not count as a night’s rest, but if someone with a low Con gets bitten, the rest of the party may as well drag them off to a space less full of tiny deer and make camp. On the plus side, the sufferer experiences pleasant dreams. (Yes, the original intent was to make a naturally-produced tranquilizer for the beaſts.)

Room 1.25: f.25r

There are bones in the corners of this otherwise unremarkable room.

Also, there’s a lion in here. It must be kept pretty well fed to keep it from eating all those tiny deer next door. There may be some small antlers scattered on the floor from deer that wander into its lair though. Watch out; darn things are like caltrops. (Treat them as a terrain hazard if combat starts.) Caretaker Two probably intervenes if it tries to enter Room 1.23. Well fed or not, you probably want to be careful not to make any sudden move.

Room 1.26: f.25v

The north side of this room is taken up by a small artificial pond.

Growing in the pond are donkey reeds. (I had to do something with this illustration and rather than having another worm-like creature that’s kind of a plant, I thought maybe we should have a plant that’s kind of a creature.) They poke a few feet out of the water and are topped with small donkey heads. As could likely be guessed by the pink stalks and blue leaves, they’re not very effective photosynthesizers — they need to be fed by the Caretakers. (They’re herbivores; create food & water just conjures up heaps of plant matter for them) Donkey reeds are not hugely mobile, but the stalks are flexible and the heads might bite.

The pond also contains some more geese.

In the southwest corner, someone has crudely carved “don’t” into a portion of the wall. (A warning left by a previous explorer, not part of the original construction.) Examination will reveal that this section of wall is actually a hidden door. The door will open if anyone in the room casts an arcane spell; on the other side is a storage closet.

In the storage closet are a series of shelves that have some sort of magical effect surrounding them. Investigation will reveal that this is a stasis effect like the one in Room 1.5, keeping the contents of the shelves frozen in time. Many of the shelves are empty, but four contain a series of small ceramic apothecary jars. These jars are labeled and sorted, but the labels are just numbers someone has painted on, with no context provided. Each shelf contains 2d12 jars; all the jars on each shelf have the same number. (Note: the numbers have no meaning other than “this is Substance Number X I’ve made”. I’m numbering them 2, 35, 48, and 96 because those are the numbers I got by rolling a d100 four times. If you want to renumber or give them other meanings, that’s fine and shouldn’t cause problems.)

The stasis system in this storage closet is not, like the one in Room 1.5, part of a more complex mechanism. All it does is keep the shelves in stasis, and it’s meant to be convenient, so it can be turned off pretty easily. Each shelf has a rune carved on it — the same rune on each one. If an arcane spellcaster of any kind touches the rune, the stasis effect will drop until the rune is touched again. Opening a jar will reveal that they are filled with strange, foul-smelling pastes, very much like one might expect from an apothecary jar. Direct skin-to-skin contact with the paste provokes a Fortitude save (DC 15) against that paste’s effects, which will be outlined below.

Each substance in the jars is meant to provoke physical changes upon a living creature. (If one of your characters is undead or a construct or something, they’re immune.) The extent of the change depends on how much of the paste you apply. In the entries below, “minor exposure” indicates something like poking it with the tip of your finger or otherwise cautiously interacting with it, “moderate exposure” indicates either smearing some on yourself or ingesting any amount, and “major exposure” indicates topically applying the entire jar. Minor exposure takes three days to run its course; moderate exposure takes six; major exposure takes ten. If the PC fights off the effect before it naturally runs its course, you should use those timespans to decide what permanent results they did get.

The effect acts pretty much like a magical disease, and causes Constitution damage because having magic mess with your biology like this is not a pleasant or healthy experience. (Save DC 15; Onset 1d4 days; Frequency 1/day; Effect variable Con damage; Cure 2 consecutive saves.) Any changes are permanent, even after the “disease” runs its course and the Con damage stops. It is possible to reverse them with magic (remove disease should probably do it, but feel free to make your own calls about how easy or difficult this should be to heal.) PCs may choose to voluntarily fail their saves if they think the changes are neat enough to be worth the Con damage.

The “disease” shouldn’t be contagious, but as previous rooms within this dungeon have indicated, one of these things has accidentally mutated into a transmissible form at least once before. Specifics below this image of someone who has apparently been affected by all of them and doesn’t look happy about it.

Substance #2

Minor exposure: Whatever part of you came into contact with the substance begins slowly converting to plant-like material. If the effect is allowed to run its course, that body part will start sprouting leaves. You can technically photosynthesize, but not enough to make a noticeable difference in your food consumption.

Moderate exposure: As above, but you grow a few small vines (earthworm-sized) from the spot rather than just leaves, and you can photosynthesize sufficiently to reduce your required food consumption by ¼ if you keep your new floral accessory exposed to daylight for at least 8 hours a day. (If you ingested the substance instead of applying it topically, the vines appear at random locations spread over your body.)

Major exposure: As above, but you grow a single large vine as big around as your arm and twice as long, with broad, spreading leaves. It’s prehensile and fully under your control. Your food requirements are reduced by ½ with sufficient exposure to daylight. You are Part Plant, which is something I’m going to go ahead and codify since I keep using it… and I’ll make it a little more in-depth than “you have plant immunities half the time”. Consider this retroactive:

Part Plant can be applied to any living creature, excluding outsiders and… well, plants. Anything that is Part Plant has a flat 50% chance of ignoring any paralysis, poison, or stun effects. They gain +5 to any save against mind-affecting effects and sleep effects on account of their brain working a little different now. Sneak attacks on something that is Part Plant have a 10% failure chance; the organs aren’t all where they’re supposed to be. They can photosynthesize so long as their leaves are exposed to sun during the daylight hours; this cuts their food requirement in half. Their sleep requirements are also halved. Any magical effects that target plants (e.g. control plants) have a 50% chance of working on them; any effect that does damage to plants does half damage to them. To any spell or effect that checks a creature’s type, they count as a plant in addition to their original creature type.

Substance #35

Minor exposure: You develop a small humanoid face on the part of your body that was exposed. It has limited internal components (sinuses, throat, &c. are not really present), and can’t move. 

Moderate exposure: You develop a fully functional humanoid face on the part of your body that was exposed (or a random part if you ingested it). The face can be up to a foot across, depending on how much of the substance you applied and where you applied it. It has internal components and seems to be hooked into your own respiratory system. It can move, and you have limited control over it. In general, this is a less-inconvenient version of Bonus Face Syndrome (which is a mutated version of this effect), in that the face is less prone to babble nonsense and you can exercise control over it. (It does not come with the same deleterious mental effects.) Trying to control the face should be modeled by a Charisma check (DC 13).

Major exposure: You develop a complete second head at the location where the substance was applied. (It may or may not have a neck, depending on location and the vagaries of magical effects.) The second head has its own mind, will, and mental stats. It has adult intelligence as well as fragments of your memory and personality. It shares control of your body; if the two of you disagree on what actions to take, make opposed Charisma checks to decide who has control.

Substance #48

Minor exposure: You develop fine blue scales over 10% of your body, radiating out from the point at which you came into contact with the substance. Wherever scales develop, your hair falls out.

Moderate exposure: As above, but 50% of your body. If you ingested the substance, you get patches of scales at random locations. You receive a +1 natural armor bonus.

Major exposure: As above, but 100% of your body. You receive a +2 natural armor bonus.

Substance #96

Minor exposure: You develop a single white-rimmed, spiracle-like opening at the part of your body where you came into contact with the substance. You can breathe through it.

Moderate exposure: As above, but you develop several of these openings spread throughout your body, with associated small gill-like structures. You can use them to breathe underwater for a limited period; they aren’t sufficiently numerous or well-developed to provide enough oxygen to function without coming up for air. Functionally, you can now hold your breath underwater for a number of minutes equal to five times your Constitution score.

Major exposure: You have dozens of these spiracle-like openings all over your body and your respiratory system has been entirely reworked. You are functionally amphibious.

Room 1.27: f.26r

This room contains substantially more rotten wood than any of the others you’ve come across. It might be intentional, since that wood seems to be inhabited by large worms of some sort. 

Hunting those worms are a pair of harcats. These creatures are about the size of a housecat, and have a mixture of feline and rodential features. They are bipedal, their only limbs being a pair of powerful rabbit-like legs. Harcats move in a hunched-over manner, interacting with the world either through their prehensile tails or by biting. Appendix A wants there to be a monster in this room, so I’ve decided harcats are aggressive. I’m not saying there’s no way your PCs can make one into a pet, just that it’ll be difficult.

Harcat: CR 2, XP 600; N Tiny Animal; Init +3; Senses Low-Light Vision, Scent; Perception +0

DEFENSE: AC 15, touch 15, flat-footed 12 (+2 size, +3 Dex); hp 14 (3d8+0); Saves Fort +3, Ref +6, Will +1

OFFENSE: Speed 25 ft.; Melee bite +4 (1d6-1 plus disease); Space 2-1/2 ft.; Reach 2-1/2 ft.; Special Attacks Leap, Disease

STATISTICS: Str 8, Dex 16, Con 10, Int 2, Wis 10, Cha 10; Base Atk +2; CMB -1; CMD 12; Feats Mobility, Weapon Focus (bite); Skills Acrobatics +9 Special Qualities Animal Traits

SPECIAL ABILITIES:

Leap (Ex): As a move action, a Harcat can jump up to ten feet in any direction, including straight up. This does not provoke an attack of opportunity.

Disease (Ex): A Harcat’s needle-like teeth are prone to communicating disease. Pick any disease you’d like to throw at your PCs; if you don’t want to choose, filth fever is a sensible fallback.

Room 1.28: f.26v

Appendix A wanted me to put something fairly goofy here, and I expected to veto it, but this page doesn’t have a lot for me to work with, so we’re rolling with it.

The entrance to this room is a large set of iron double doors with ring-shaped door-knockers. (Don’t roll on the Doors Table for this one; it’s intact.) When the PCs open the doors, flip a coin or otherwise roll a 50% chance.

On heads (or the first half of your 50% roll), the other side of the doors is an empty 20x30 room. If the PCs close the doors behind them, there is a rumbling noise and a sensation of movement — this room is actually a sort of freight elevator, and it’s taking them down to Level Two. (What’s on the other side of the door on that level? Tell you in a month or so.) The elevator takes half an hour to automatically reset; until that point, it can’t be made to move again. After half an hour has passed, opening and closing the doors will make it bring them back to Level One.

On tails (or the other option in whatever mechanism you’re using), the doors open onto a sheer drop into a large space with rough-hewn walls. The top of the elevator is 50 feet below them. The elevator doesn’t take up the whole space — there’s a good ten feet on each side, excluding the side with the door — and a number of birds are nesting on ledges around the edges of the space. This elevator shaft also seems to extend some 20 feet upwards, where a large pulley of some kind hangs from the ceiling, with cables reaching down to the elevator.

If the elevator isn’t present (i.e., if you got tails on that coin), it can be summoned by using the knockers on the doors.

And there’s Week Four done. Hey, if you’re reading this, like… let me know?