#getting through this game in the most chaotic manner possible

[elysianstars]

So here’s a stupid Tears of the Kingdom story.

The first geoglyph I activated was by accident, without speaking to Impa. I’d fallen off a sky island (not my fault, joycon drift) and decided to make the best of it by gliding to something that looked interesting. Noticed there was a teardrop pattern all over it, but only one was solid green. Thought I’d investigate that, maybe it was hiding a Korok. Got a big surprise!

So. I assumed that was how you needed to activate every geoglyph. Glide right down from the sky and land on that precise spot, without touching the ground in between. I DID THIS FOR THE NEXT SEVEN GEOGLYPHS I FOUND.

SEVEN. GOING THROUGH HEAPS OF STAMINA FOOD AND SPAMMING GUSTS. BEFORE REALISING YOU CAN JUST STROLL OVER TO THEM ON THE GROUND AND STAND ON THE RIGHT SPOT.

Also, after jumping down wells without ladders, I kept getting out by warping to shrines. Finally figured out you can just ASCEND. That’s a PSA to anyone else who didn’t think of it, but I suspect that not one other soul has my insane geoglyph problem.

[elendsessor]

the most tragic part about yoko and tao is that, unlike other reps in the series, yoko never becomes some puppet, meanwhile tao slowly loses her humanity.

in a few ways, that’s the mercy alignment reps get. only at the last second do they even slightly acknowledge their past self, just to put them down. that’s if they’re lucky. everyone else gets hyper aggressive regardless.

yoko isn’t like that, and she’s technically the least human. she was a goddess trapped in a human form, yet even once she gets her powers back, there’s still some remorse. some actual humanity. she grew, she changed, realized the mistakes she’s made, but understands she can’t fully go back. unfortunately she chose this path a long time ago and has to see it to the end, like it or not.

even sadder considering tao still gets gutted. she’s not nearly as soulless as she was in canon of creation, with herself and the game acknowledging that fact, but she’s also not the same. her mannerisms changed down even to her speech. she does frequently shift over to her goddess form, which is heavily implied to be amaterasu, but that form is devoid of any personality compared to her siblings. despite not acting the same as in legend, both susano-o/aogami and tsukuyomi/koshimizu actually do develop identities of their own, albeit again quite different, but this is because they spent time with people. the amaterasu here never had human experience. only tao did. she’s still a proto-fiend be design, and thus a husk meant to fulfill a single purpose, never to have aspirations completely separate of that. we don’t see much of the aftermath, but it’s safe to say with her body gone and forever having to use the amaterasu part of her soul to exist, she does end up succumbing to that side.

while yoko gets the ending where the universe is freed from mandala at the cost of everyone in the old universe, she gets to stick with that remorse and humanity.

tao gets the ending where tokyo and possibly all of society is saved, but the goddess tao had to sacrifice basically all of her humanity to go through with what she was meant to do.

they’re actually the most tame reps in mainline, too, only rivaled by roughly one or two others. though a chaotic rep, yoko isn’t a complete genocidal maniac who loves killing, nor goes too off the wall in extremes. though a law rep, tao’s not constantly bowing down to the lord almighty nor spouting her own cult-like bull. both straight up agree to disagree. they never clash the same way others do—kinda only acknowledge the points the other has and that does make both some of their views stronger and has them rethink what they believe.

it’s an interesting contrast yet also one that’s really depressing.

[pnkrathian]

The Robo Lucky AU Summary/Masterpost!

I’ve said bits and pieces about this AU before, but I don’t ever think I’ve posted a more comprehensive summary of it here. I wasn’t able to get into EVERY single part of his story because I wanted to keep this relatively short, but this will give the gist of things.

Robo Lucky is the star character of an AU of mine for the video game Mother 3. Currently, he’s my most beloved OC, and my most beloved AU. I’ve split it into three “Acts”.

Act 1

Lucky was created by Porky, dictator of the Nowhere Islands, as a replacement for the real Lucky, Duster’s alter ego, in the world’s most popular band, the DCMC, because of his choice to leave. Robo Lucky’s original form was made to be identical to that of the real Lucky, with the exception of faint robotic seam lines on his face, joints, and other key articulation points on the body that are only noticeable if you happen to look close enough.

His purpose was to watch over the rest of the DCMC in order to keep them in-line, to spread pro-Porky propaganda to the DCMC’s fans, and to eliminate Duster as quickly as possible before the general public could notice anything was up. He is very skilled at mimicking the personality and mannerisms of the real Lucky when he needs to, but his real self comes through when he’s ready to attack. In reality, his personality is completely different from Duster’s. He’s chaotic, he’s irrational, he’s emotional, and he can be more than a bit sadistic. Even though he’s a robot, he actually feels and can show just as much emotion as a human can, and he is fully sentient, unlike some of Porky’s other robots.

When he chooses to attack, you’ll never see him use his legs like Duster does, but you’ll see him use a variety of gadgets coming from inside his robot body instead. Things like saw blades or tasers replacing his hands, flamethrowers and guns coming from his mouth, or a jetpack coming from his back. In all honesty, if you can think of a weird robotic gadget or weapon he could have, he probably has it. He’s meant to be both a very silly and very scary character, to have those horror elements without sacrificing a sense of the Mother series-type humor. He can be a true horror villain at times, but other times, he’s the kind of villain who will sing a catchy song as he tries to stab someone. He’ll almost always be showy or flashy when he has a chance to be. (Although I don’t officially ship him romantically with Duster, he miiiight give Duster a lil homoerotic pin against the wall as well as other similar stuff. As a treat. :3)

As Robo Lucky spends countless times trying to eliminate Duster and his other party members (except for Boney, because in his words: “Who would kill a fucking dog? I have at least SOME standards, asshole!”) and failing, only to be rebuilt stronger but then to fail again, his desire to kill Duster shifts from following his orders to true jealousy and hatred. He begins to resent Duster for being stronger than him even though he was built to be an incredibly powerful killing machine, he resents him for having his friends while he’s still feared, and he resents the fact that he was built to look like him, and therefore he blames his miserable existence on him instead of the scientists who built him.

I cannot stress enough that he is not Duster but “evil”, but a completely different guy who has been forced into a Duster body and forced to pretend to be him, manipulated to believe that eliminating Duster and replacing him is the only way he can achieve happiness, or even a right to exist in the world.

Duster is finally able to “tame” Robo Lucky during their final fight, which happens right after the final DCMC performance in the Empire Pork Building. After fighting with the last of his power, he is finally defeated when Duster is able to kick his head clean off his body. This does not kill him, as he is a robot, but Duster pities him, so instead of destroying him, he takes him, which eventually leads him to follow everyone else into the next world after the final needle is pulled by Lucas.

Act 2

For the next ~2-3 years, Robo Lucky lives as a talking head with Duster and the rest of the DCMC. Now, he’s completely powerless, with none of the gadgets inside his body to help him. He no longer even has his wig, his head is now bare, leaving the clear head casing showcasing his main internal processor underneath. At first, leaving him as a head was a punishment of sorts, to get him to think about the damage he had caused. But gradually, although not without struggle, he realizes that Duster and the others are beginning to care about him, and they are trying to show him that he doesn’t have to go down the path of violence or hatred, that there can be good things in life, that there are people out there who care about him, and that despite his purpose for being built, there is good in his heart, and he can choose to show it and he can chose to figure out who he really is. Eventually, it leads into a whole redemption arc for him where he becomes almost like family to Duster and the others, and eventually, once the others are able to trust him enough, he is able to get a new body built for himself. In addition, Duster also grapples with the fact that even though he did it in self defense, he had taken almost all of Lucky’s physical autonomy away, and begins to feel deeply guilty for his actions. After they both realize the gravity of what they had done to each other, and both regret it, they come to an agreement. When they’re both comfortable enough with each other to be vulnerable, Lucky tells him that he thinks the two of them should be “even” now. Duster suggests that the two of them should start over; to try to move forward, to see each other as people, as equals, as friends. They realize that all the fighting and competition between the two has caused both of them nothing but suffering, and yes, they absolutely have the capacity to get along, against all odds.

Act 3

Robo Lucky was able to design his new body himself, with help from the scientists still left, of course. During his time as a head, he’s learned that replacing Duster isn’t truly what he wants, but instead, he wants a chance to figure out who he really is as an individual.

When he gets his body, he still looks a bit similar to Duster, to avoid having to make him a completely new head, but with a nose that is more pointy than hooked downward; longer, fuller, curlier hair; bigger, brighter, eyes; a softer, younger-looking, less angular face; and facial hair that is thinner above the lips and fuller below them. His body shape is a little more lean and top-heavy than Duster’s (For context, my version of Duster’s body is a bit more on the chubby, pear-shaped side), and he is a bit shorter. In addition, he also takes care of his hygiene better than Duster usually does.

Now, Robo Lucky still does have some of his old personality; he still can be emotional, dramatic, a bit chaotic, and (for lack of a better word) still a bit of a dickhead or a little shit sometimes, he now is also passionate, energetic, goofy, VERY affectionate, and overall, happier than he’s ever been. He now takes joy in entertaining people for what he can do himself, and he has taken quite a liking to singing (and he’s really good at it, too!). Duster has even abandoned the use of “Lucky” as a stage name for himself, choosing to use his real name to the public. Therefore, “Robo Lucky” is free to become the one and only Lucky. According to Duster, it was his name all along.

Of course, Lucky still is far from perfect, but compared to before, he has come miles and miles ahead in self- improvement, and has finally been able to live his life as his true self.

I do have a lot of art from all three Acts that I will post! However, most of the art I do nowadays revolves around Act 3, with Lucky in his true body, figuring himself out and interacting with the other characters around him, mostly Duster. Eventually, he and Duster not only become best friends, but they develop a sort of queerplatonic-type relationship. It's not exactly clearly defined, because having a relationship with a robot who isn't you but was made to look like you but now doesn’t look like you… is definitely not a thing that happens often.

I even do other art and stories with Lucky that goes beyond the realm of Act 3, exploring his extended life after Duster and the other characters he started out with pass on. My ideal personal version of Mother 4 even piggybacks off this AU instead of canon, because honestly, it’s canon in my heart. I plan to write more about it here later, but long story short, it involves Lucky living in a new world, meeting new companions along the way, including *gasp*... a lover?

Pre-redemption/pre-new body Robo Lucky goes by he/him, but post-redemption Lucky goes by both he/him and also sometimes she/her!

[duskwoodraven]

The Myers Briggs personality types of the main Duskwood cast according to me, myself, and I. This is purely my opinion on what fits them best, I also took little quotations from the 16personality website that struck me as good representations of their character, I hope it’s a nice read for you guys.💚💚💚

Jake - INTJ (Architect)

“Logical and quick-witted, INTJs pride themselves on their ability to think for themselves, not to mention their uncanny knack for seeing right through phoniness and hypocrisy. Because their minds are never at rest, these personalities may sometimes struggle to find people who can keep up with their nonstop analysis of everything around them. But when they do find like-minded individuals who appreciate their intensity and depth of thought, INTJs form profound and intellectually stimulating relationships that they deeply treasure.”

I’ve seen some theorize Jake as an INTP, but to me I feel INTP seem to be more chaotic, jumping from one thought to the next and overthinking. To me, Jake rings as more straightforward in pursuing his goal and doesn’t get distracted by every possibility or lost in his thoughts.

“They believe that, through willpower and intelligence, they can achieve even the most challenging goals. They are firm believers that taking the easy way out in any given situation prevents people from achieving greatness.”

Lilly - ENTJ (Commander)

I feel ENTJ fits Lilly best, I also like the idea that her personality is similar to her brother’s, just more extroverted. I don’t think I have any screenshots to show this but I have been struck by how she tends to talk similarly to Jake and processes information in a cool manner. She’s intelligent, resourceful, and strong willed. We can see this when she went to work on the #iamjake movement.

“If there’s anything that people with this personality type love, it’s a good challenge, big or small, and they firmly believe that, given enough time and resources, they can achieve any goal. This quality makes ENTJs brilliant entrepreneurs, and their ability to think strategically and hold a long-term focus while executing each step of their plans with determination and precision makes them powerful business leaders.”

Also she has a tendency to want to get her way, as seen during the vote and after the video upload.

“ “It’s my way or the highway” – People with the ENTJ personality type are notoriously unsupportive of ideas that distract from their primary goals and even more so of ideas based on emotional considerations. They won’t hesitate to make that fact clear to those around them.”

Cleo - ESTJ (Executive)

Cleo to me has a very determined attitude, even when she was threatened multiple times she didn’t let anything deter her from finding Hannah, it’s very respectable.

“People with the ESTJ personality type (Executives) are representatives of tradition and order, utilizing their understanding of what is right, wrong, and socially acceptable to bring families and communities together. Embracing the values of honesty and dedication, ESTJs are valued for their mentorship mindset and their ability to create and follow through on plans in a diligent and efficient manner. They will happily lead the way on difficult paths, and they won’t give up when things become stressful.”

Phil - ESTP (Entrepreneur)

It was a little tricky to pick one for Phil since we didn’t have time to chat with him much compared to the others. But I think what we do know about him fits in here.

“ESTPs’ perceptiveness isn’t used for mind games, they prefer to communicate clearly, with direct and factual questions and answers. What you see is what you get with this personality type.”

Phil always struck me as the open type, doesn’t hide what he thinks, which is was can eventually get him into trouble (the arrest…) Also ESTPs are apparently considered to be flirts which fits Phil perfectly.

“In the early stages of a relationship, individuals with the ESTP personality type embody a sense of spontaneity and excitement. They are bold in their courting attempts, rarely hesitating to flirt openly even when others are present.”

Jessy - ENFP (Campaigner)

Jessy was easy to pick, she embodies the ENFP perfectly in my opinion. She’s just a really sweet person in the game and cares about her friends very much 💚

“ENFPs may live for deep, meaningful conversations, but they can also be spontaneous and lighthearted. These personalities know how to find fun and joy in the present moment – and few things give them more pleasure than sharing their joy with others. All of these strengths come together to form a person who is warmhearted and approachable, with an altruistic spirit and a friendly disposition. ENFPs strive to get along with pretty much everyone, and their circles of acquaintances and friends often stretch far and wide.”

Dan - ISTP (Virtuoso)

I wasn’t sure about Dan until I read this excerpt,

“One of the biggest issues that they are likely to face is that, because they often act out of haste, they might rub people the wrong way sometimes. ISTPs are not the type to sugarcoat their opinions or feelings. They tend to have a very straightforward communication style that is often misinterpreted as bluntness or a lack of sensitivity, but it is simply the way these genuine souls operate. ISTP personalities have no time for people-pleasing or unnecessary social niceties. With them, there is little need to question their motives.”

Dan is one of the most blunt characters in Duskwood, willing to call out the obvious when no one else will. You can’t be a hypocrite or avoid owning up to your own actions around him.

Richy - ESFJ (Consul)

I was curious which personality would be the backbone of a strange character like Richy, but I think ESFJ fits the bill. In the group, Richy loved to be the middleman, making sure to not make anyone upset with him. He cares about being liked and cares what people think of him which may be why he tried so hard to keep everything a secret.

“People with the ESFJ personality type are altruists. They take seriously their responsibility to give back, serve others, and do the right thing. And they believe that there is a clear right thing to do in nearly every situation. While some personality types adopt a more lenient, live-and-let-live attitude, ESFJs may find it difficult to not judge when someone takes a path that strikes them as misguided. As a result, they often struggle to accept it when someone – particularly someone they care about – disagrees with them or chooses to walk a path that they do not understand.”

Hannah “disagreed with him” and Richy couldn’t accept that.

“For many people with the ESFJ personality type, one of life’s greatest challenges is accepting that they can’t control anyone else’s thoughts or behavior – not even those who are nearest and dearest to them.”

Thomas - INFP (Mediator)

This was a weird observation for me since I am also an INFP… but I think nothing else fits Thomas better, he’s a sensitive guy and a bit self isolating, but he’ll still do what he can to help those he cares about.

“Idealistic and empathetic, people with the INFP personality type long for deep, soulful relationships, and they feel called to help others. Due to the fast-paced and competitive nature of our society, they may sometimes feel lonely or invisible, adrift in a world that doesn’t seem to appreciate the traits that make them unique. Yet it is precisely because INFPs brim with such rich sensitivity and profound creativity that they possess the unique potential to connect deeply and initiate positive change.”

—-

So with all that being said, what do you guys think? What are your personality types? Do you match with any of these? I’d love to hear about it 🤗

[monstersdownthepath]

Lord of the Fourth: Belial, the Pale Kiss

CR 28

Lawful Evil Medium Outsider

Bestiary 6, pg. 20~21

Belial is one of the more unique Archdevils in the employ of the Prince of Darkness, having been hand-crafted by Asmodeus as something of an idol meant to draw people into Hell’s embrace through selfish desire and the pursuit of physical pleasure. Why, precisely, Asmo decided to test out just how beautiful of a creature he could make is something he’s never really expanded upon, but reckless self-destructive lust and hedonism tend to fall more into the domain of Chaotic or Neutral Evil, so having a shapeshifting seducer on his side has been nothing but an asset for the infernal expansion Asmodeus demands.

They’re way more than just a pretty face(s), though. Asmodeus wasn’t just satisfied with gorgeous body and gifted Belial with a similarly powerful mind, the creativity and imagination necessary to shape themselves into inhuman beauty translating dangerously into the creativity of crafting all manner of weapons, armors, magic items, and even new creatures never before seen. Thankfully, despite their bottomless inspiration, Belial shows little care for any of their projects once completed, discarding the designs to begin working on the next one and leaving any flaws they overlooked or improvements that need to be made for someone else to deal with.

As for that imagination regarding their shapeshifting body, though, Belial has one of the most powerful versions of Change Shape in the entire game, not only capable of shifting freely as a move action as many times per day as they desire, but capable of taking on any form they can conceive, even ones that don’t exist. Thankfully, to keep that from getting TOO insane, they can only take on the powers and abilities listed in Beast Shape IV, Elemental Body III, Plant Shape II, Alter Self, and Form of the Dragon I. While still a tremendously impressive toolbox of potential tricks and natural attacks, it means they don’t have access to things like the incorporeality of Undead Anatomy, the stat bonuses from Giant Form, or the extremely long ability list of Monstrous Physique. Take the time to remember that Belial can still take on any form their imagination allows, they just don’t get the powers of that form unless it’s from one of the previously listed spells; hey can still freely shift into any Ooze, Outsider, or Aberration they need to in order to tempt you into walking into the fires of Hell.

Their Baleful Beauty ability causes just that to happen, forcing any creature within 30ft whose creature type matches whatever form they’re displaying (their default humanoid/devil form, however, affects all humanoid creatures regardless of creature type) to abandon all reason and higher thought processes and run straight into Belial’s melee range through whatever means they possibly can to smooch all over them. A DC 39 Will save resists this diabolic pull and prevents one from falling for the same trick, but anyone who fell for it the first time not only loses their turn but is also subject to Belial’s draining Caress, automatically gaining 2 negative levels with no save and needing to make a DC 39 Fortitude save or else take 1d4 Int, Wis, AND Cha damage.

And this is just the surface of what Belial can inflict once in melee...

And we’re not even done talking about Caress! I just ran out of room above the Keep Reading split. The Caress is a melee touch attack Belial can weave in with their Full-Attack action, a single lascivious touch or--more commonly--a draining kiss delivered in the middle of the beatdown that inflicts the same penalty as it would to anyone failing their save against Baleful Beauty. What’s worse is that anyone suffering any penalty from the Caress--and remember it inflicts negative levels with no save!--can further be afflicted by Belial’s spell-likes. They can inflict the dreaded Misfortune effect as a swift action against any caressed creature when targeting them with any tool on their belt, including Baleful Polymorph and Dominate Person at will, as well as Quickened Mass Suggestion or Prismatic Spray at 3/day.

We’ve gone over just how dangerous turning the party against one another is time and time again, but hopefully by level 25+ the party has some level of defense against mind-affecting effects, though remember they’re likely to be held back by Misfortune... And even more unfortunately, that’s not the only trick Belial has: their Ranseur Mastery turns their chosen weapon, a +4 Speed Unholy Ranseur, into a 10ft threat radius that’s incredibly difficult to fight in. Each blow deals 2d4+26 damage (+2d6 vs Good), and when doing a Full-Attack they can strike five times instead of four. At any point during the Full-Attack, they can forego weapon damage to use the Disarm property of their ranseur (+49 to Disarm) to tear weapons from their foes’ hands and hurl them away with Greater Disarm, leaving victims stranded in their threat radius without a way to fight back.

Monk and Brawler DPS, perhaps?

This is all in addition to any natural attacks gained from their current form, but Belial also has a handful of natural attacks to spice up their Full-Attack on their own... even if they’re more for show than anything else. Their gore deals a paltry 1d6+6, and their two wings 2d8+6 each. Anyone struck by their wings must make a DC 41 Fortitude save or be staggered for 1 round and dazzled for 1d4, but this Fiendish Fluttering is more of a ribbon atop the potential level drain and stat damage from the Caress being woven into the Full-Attack. Just an extra little kick in the pants for someone who got stabbed four times already and just needs and extra 7~12 points to actually die.

On the defensive side, Belial can cast Waves of Ecstasy 3/day and Overwhelming Presence 1/day, the former of which staggers the entire party even if they all succeed their save (stunning and staggering anyone who fails for multiple rounds), the latter of which can end a combat the moment it begins as the Archdevil saunters up and coup de graces helpless targets... or simply ignores whoever failed to focus their efforts on anyone still standing. They can also utilize their Baleful Beauty in reverse, shifting into a form so violently repulsive that any creature who sees it becomes nauseated for 1d6 rounds and takes 1d8 Strength damage unless they succeed a DC 39 Will save.

Anyone who makes it past their spells and fights back must deal with not only the suit of resistances and immunities conferred by the Archdevil status, but Belial’s Amorphous Anatomy and Reflexive Shapeshifting. Amorphous Anatomy allows them to cancel out Sneak Attacks, critical hits, and other precision damage by winning a coin flip, shrug off polymorph effects immediately, and regrow lost or damaged sensory organs to assure blindness and deafness don’t last for more than a round. Reflexive Shapeshifting is usable only once a battle (1/minute) but is their more powerful defensive option, granting them an immediate +10 AC against an incoming melee attack. If that attack misses, Belial can then flutter up to 30ft in any direction without provoking AoOs, usually slipping past the party’s buffed frontline.

Oh, yes... And all those buffs? Best avoid morale bonuses! Belial can copy any morale bonuses near them with Hedonistic Hope, gaining those bonuses as well and rendering them effectively meaningless. Even worse, if they manage to critically strike someone (with a x3 crit modifier on their ranseur!), any morale bonuses they have are automatically suppressed for 1 minute, leaving the Pale Kiss the only one reaping the rewards of everyone else’s work.

Terrifying power in such a beautiful package! And we’re barely halfway down the roster...

You can read more about them here.

[affection-points]

Drv3 x idv crossover headcanons{for kokichi}

Kokichi Ouma and the rest are playing in the manor game post-their game as a full dive v.r. thing.

As such some relationships are rocky at best.

The only one he trusts out of the killing game who is actually participating as well is Miu, Shuichi is being avoided like the plague.

Kaede didn't actually watch the full killing game through after her loss and assumes Rantaro was right about accusing Kokichi of being the mastermind, Rantaro is drumming up hate towards kokichi in order to have a better social standing

Not to mention everyone else but gonta and kaito outside of the games are bulling him (or simply blaming kokichi for anything that goes wrong in ryoma's case)

Now you'd think maybe maki or Himiko might be chill but nope, maki has been roped in by several other people, and Himiko just wants to fit in.

Of course this leads to kokichi hiding as much as possible. people try to find him but, they keep looking in open air areas

It almost makes sense because he was crushed to death

But that's ignoring how the strike 9 poison he had running through his system was by game lore designed to put someone through as much agony as physically possible

He was teetering on the edge of shock before it even crushed him

So naturally when he gets crushed it sends him over the shock point and HE STOPS HURTING.

One of these times he's in another weird nook in the post-game care facility and finds an envelope with a particular wax seal on it.

In the envelope a letter telling him he's invited to join a "more merciful" killing game if he so chooses

And it's promised that whether or not he wins he'll have SAFETY from all the people that have been causing him issues and setting his anxiety off on the regular.

He of course takes interest and ends up in the manor under Mike or "Acrobat"

Mike doesn't handle kokichi being less my survival first and more others survival first.

Mike then screws up by hitting him

Which sends kokichi into panic spiral of "I need to do better so I need to research."

Naib and Emma take note of his panic spiral induced absence and check up on him.

They then manage to convince kokichi to calm down and take care of himself some.

As a result of them successfully reading him completely (a first for him) and being kind to him in a more protective manner he upon waking up has decided he trusts them completely

Which is good for him because they are his alibis for something rantaro did.

Rantaro decided to drug kaede and shuichi's portion of the breakfast food and blame it on kokichi

Which immediately backfires as Naib and Emma not only go full truth and inference mode on the idiot but shuichi points out a serious discrepancy with rantaro's own alibi and Kreacher claims witness to rantaro's actions(he didn't really see anything but he refuses to let another "philanthropist" get away with essentially making everyone call Emma a liar.(he now knows the Emma=Lisa Beck thing and is trying to help make up for being a moron and not recognizing her.)

Overtime most of Naib and Emma's chaotic little network of people meet and befriend kokichi.

[the-real-maglev]

Random 100% Orange Juice Headcanons

Let's play a fun game: Spot The Comfort Character! Additionally, this may contradict stuff from other orange_juice games, to which my retort is that the 100%OJ cast is just approximations of the characters made by Tomomo anyways (and also let me have my fun).

QP doesn't know what she's doing. Just in general. Whenever it becomes clear that she has to take a situation seriously, though, she can and will get things done. She's also tasted live sea Urchin before, which was only slightly worse than pudding with soy sauce. Her default reaction to genuine fear is hugging the leg of the nearest trusted individual, closing her tearful eyes and muttering.

Kai likes to think that being an isekai protagonist makes him the only sane man of the group. He's not entirely wrong, however he still has noticeable eccentricities, mostly from his moderate ego problems. He's not sure how long he's been here and how much he's missed in his personal life because of it and it's starting to freak him out a bit.

Marc is a massive nerd about military technology and is also the most violent of the main four. Don't let that smile fool you. She is more than willing to use that giant missile she brought with her.

Suguri has ophidiophobia (fear of snakes) and a neocities page. The amount of modifications she's undergone have lead to her not displaying much outward emotion, but internally she's just as emotional as ever. Generally just a sucker for early-mid 2000s internet aesthetics.

Aru loves Halloween nearly as much as Christmas. She's also done multiple AMA threads considering her distinction of being Santa's right hand.

Marie Poppo is a living plushie and has a red heart-shaped one of those plastic dog toy squeakers for a heart. Her moral compass is that everything entertaining is good. Her favorite food is peanut butter candies. She used to be able to speak English fluently, but Tomomo later decided that it'd be funnier if she was unintelligible.

Syura has a tendency to unconsciously unleash her immense infernal powers in bouts of gamer rage. She's also a very passionate Touhou Project fan. This is a dangerous combination.

One of Saki's modifications is a shower head that can emerge from her back near the tip of her spine. This legit solely came to be because it'd be a funny visual gag for a confrontation with NoName.

NoName's mouth never opens, his teeth just light up when he talks.

Mother Poppo has no true relation to Marie Poppo, despite her mannerisms.

Cook listens to math rock.

Kae's average body temperature is around 75°C. The other characters treating her presence as a makeshift fireplace has lead her to be a bit less chaotic and more accepting of the simple pleasures of just hanging out with people you trust. She'll still try and find an excuse to have a battle in virtually every get-together, but at least she's asking first. Has severe abandonment issues and athazagoraphobia after being put in isolation for years, which is part of the driving force of her rambunctious behavior.

Sora has burned through too many therapists to count. She's quite a mood swinger, in contrast to the more stoic Suguri. She's quite possibly the most traumatized character in the roster.

[apocalypticgargoyle]

meet clay, he knows how you'll die.

intro filler chapter sorry

☾ pairing: dream x reader

☾ cw: interact at your own risk; contains graphic depictions of various character death and violence, suicide, blood, gore, and other triggering material. angst, language, guns, adult content, mentions of sex, slow burn friends to lovers

☾ wc: ~4100

Clay pulled the strap of his backpack further on his shoulder as he wove through the mindless sea of college students, eyes scanning the crowd for you, his best friend and the only person he could stand at the early hour. His knuckles flashed white as he sighed, taking the blunt impact of someone walking into him. He removed one of his headphones, mumbling a quick apology and swatting off the enthusiastically apologetic sophomore girl. All he could focus on was how much she bit her lip as she stammered on about not seeing him. It wasn’t alluring to him when most girls tried to sway his affections by looking at him with a puppy dog expression; all his mind drifted to was the dead skin across the body of her lower lip.

He finally nodded and reinstated his headphone, turning on his heel and heading for the front of the building. He received a few greetings from his peers as they crossed his path, people who shared past lectures with him and who had cheated off of him during exams. He wasn’t popular by any means, but he stayed out of people’s business and didn’t express his opinions loudly, so people tended to like him. The autumn breeze picked up as he stood in the dwellings of political science majors on the front lawn, acting as if they hadn’t seen one another in years when it had been only a few days. Clay absent-mindedly looked down at his cellphone, flipping through music as he leaned against the cool brick of the hall’s facade, waiting for you to find him.

Clay’s usual brooding manner was often off-putting to outsiders, with the careless-hollow look in his eyes giving bystanders the impression that he was nothing but a machiavellian. But you always saw the brightness in him; the side that you always experienced was specifically for you, and he made sure to keep it that way. You had wedged herself into his life and he was ever grateful for the love you had given him.

Despite the understood truth between the two of you that nothing was to be left unsaid, Clay still found himself keeping one of the most important aspects of his character unknown to you. His bloodcurdling secret was his own curse, something that would only be poison for another soul to know.

“What’s up, stud?” Somehow a flush of relief rippled through Clay’s body as his eyes locked to yours, pulling him from his isolated shell. Your hair looked brighter today against the dark hoodie peeking out from beneath an all too familiar bomber jacket. The wind fluffed your locks slightly as you continued towards him.

His eyebrows perked up as if to signal he was attempting to downplay his excited demeanor. “Stud, huh?” You smirked at his response, taking one of his headphones and putting it in your own ear, her face angled up to Clay as you waited to recognize the song, swaying slightly.

He chuckled as you shrunk away from him after muttering the song’s artist disappointedly and rolling your eyes, pulling on his hoodie pocket to follow you. As chaotic as his life often felt, he could always rely on the consistency of you. You usually attached yourself to one of his backpack straps, handles, his belt loop, or ended up under his arm, wedged against his side. It had gotten to the point that he felt naked if you weren’t within arm’s length of him, which was rare for the two of you. “So, I have something for you.” He smugly looked down at you, green eyes masking a hidden sparkle as you handed him a can of root beer, making him chuckle.

“Aren’t you sweet?” He popped the tab, taking a sip as you waved at a group of girls passing the two of you before slipping your hand against the crook of his elbow where his hoodie sleeves were pushed back.

“Actually, I was hoping it could be payment for later. I need to head over to the cemetery for some rubbings. History 270 has me getting into some weird shit, huh?” He laughed again at you, offering you the drink.

“And you need wheels?” You nodded and smiled politely at him, beaming at his words. “Yeah, alright. I have to sketch something for art anyway.” He thought about the week’s assignment and then about your little project he had dealt with the prior year. You had acted like the two of you hadn’t been to the cemetery on a regular basis, but he was grateful that you wanted him to come along with you.

You quietly jumped once. “You are my hero in faded denim, Clay. You know that, right?”

The two of you parted ways to your select destinations, one of Clay’s least favorite parts of the day, which was only solidified as he sunk into his seat and attempted to look equipped for the lecture. He spotted an unfamiliar kid shaking his knee in a distant section of the classroom. In any other circumstance, he wouldn’t have thought twice, but the sie of the class had given him the pleasantries of getting his own personal curse out of the way on the first day.

He carefully watched the boy speak smugly to a few of the more athletic kids in the room. One of the athletes pointed to the general direction Clay was sitting in and they all moved towards him. He, yet again, took out his headphones, knowing full well that they would be talking to him for the rest of the class.

“Oi, Shaman,” one of the main guys greeted Clay like they always did: a strange pattern of slapping and shaking his hand. He was thankful he had gotten all of their first impressions months prior and didn’t have to worry about getting their scenarios again, but he geared up to meet the new kid.

“How are you, Punz?” Clay took a deep breath as the new kid was gestured to and brought into the light.

“This is Mark. He’s a transfer from one of the commuter campuses. Mark, this is the mastermind you pay for notes.”

Clay sarcastically smiled at Punz. “My, you flatter me more than any girl. Nice to meet you, man.” As soon as he touched Mark’s hand, Clay’s mind flashed to a dingy-looking barn out in the middle of nowhere before an older man in his mid-thirties came into view with a lever-action rifle in his hand. In another flash, Clay was in front of the man, now kneeling with the gun in his mouth, red, blurry eyes looking straight through Clay. A pang of guilt broke open in Clay’s stomach as he pushed against the handguard lever and pulled it back into place, squeezing the trigger and sending Ckay back to the class. He let out a sigh and fought to plaster one of his less absent smiles.

“Speaking of our lovely girls, Mark here has a question about her.” Clay’s head tilted towards Mark, not exactly squaring up to him, but sending him an amused look as if to warn him not to cross a line, knowing full-well this conversation would somehow involve you. “We all know that no guy would ever intrude on her without your blessing, but Mark sat near her on the bus before his first class and was thinking about asking her out.”

Clay bit back a laugh, feeling like the Vito Corleone. “Well, you know her, Punz, and you know she would be mortified if I told some guy to fuck off, so I would just ask her yourself?” Oh, how desperately Clay wanted to bash Mark for not even telling Clay himself and the fact that the boy before him was nowhere near your type, but Clay knew better than to burn bridges and he felt bad for the way Mark would meet his end.

Nobody, not even you, knew about Clay’s gift. In the going-on-five years of knowing you, he came breaths away from letting his secret slip but has always kept it hidden, hoping to bury it with him after being married to you for forty happy years.

The visions started around his fifth-grade year, beginning with vivid dreams of dying in the midst of the Civil War, feeling the warm gushing of blood leaving his system, and the stabbing pain of being shot multiple times beside a woman who oddly looked enough like you that he almost called out your name. He had lived what he presumed to be his death in the life before this one several times, each vision taking him a few clicks further.

Soon, he found himself catching glimpses of others’ deaths before they happened as soon as they touched him, but thankfully it was usually over with no time passing and he only endured the visions once for each person, fate having already sealed itself. The only person who seemed to mix him up was you.

It was love at first sight for him, but as soon as you touched his arm, bleak snapshots of a boating accident raced into his mind, only to have to re-experience the scenario a few months later with you stepping in front of a train. Even as a measly high school freshman, he promised himself that there was no way he was letting you die in the gruesome manners being predicted to you. He didn’t think changing fate was possible until he witnessed you in action. He hated seeing you so young in each of the glimpses, tearing him to shreds as he knew time and time again that there was no way he could change what was meant to be.

There were even times when he quietly promised you that he’d die by your side if he couldn’t stop it.

As his lecture let out, Clay found you tucked into a corner of the library, smiling to yourself silently as knew you had finally found what you were looking for in one of the massive books before you. There were many moments like this that Clay wished he could pause and remember for the rest of his life. He was proud that you were there for him even though you could have left instead of playing your own little game of library scavenger hunts.

Since knowing you, he had taken note of how you treated other boys, usually as first dates and never true pick-ups. You didn’t care if they called you the next day or not and he was sure you had never even been kissed before. Something about your guys’ relationship gave others the nod to leave it the fuck alone, and that your heart truly belonged to Clay; a responsibility he wished didn’t plague you with. Despite this, he couldn’t bring himself to be with you, only worried that what you had would be destroyed because he knew that as soon as he told you about his gift, you might leave.

You always brought a bag of marbles and a bouquet of flowers to the cemetery. You loved to find the tombstones that looked neglected or ones with older dates, knowing that the possibility of having family members who remembered the person was lower. The trees in the graveyard were reds and yellows with the changing season, leaves scattered over the grass, naturally piling in large masses. This was your favorite for how neglected it seemed to always be. You had a knack for making inanimate objects and lost souls feel loved; Clay often feeling like he was one of these disembodied figures.

Clay leaned his back against one of the massive trees a few paces from the tombstone you had picked, smiling as he watched you carry out her routine. He flipped to a clean page in his sketchbook as you sat cross-legged in front of the great stone resting place, pulling the long-dead flowers from the concrete gauntlet and replenishing a few flowers in their place while setting an equal number of marbles along the grass line of the stone. A daisy was tucked behind your ear as you ran her fingers against the worn chiseling of the dates, smiling slightly. He began to sketch you out. Your eyes drifted to him before the corners of your mouth curled up into a smirk and you returned to her previous position, straightening your shoulders. “Who is it?” He asked, blending a rough edge with the pads of his finger as you tilted your head at the script carvings.

“George McAfee. Born 1926. Died 1963.” The wind picked up, blowing your hair away from your face as you pulled your jacket closer around you. “What was happening in 1963?” You turned your head to him momentarily before looking back at the lucky man. “I mean besides Beatlemania and JFK’s assassination?”

Clay outstretched one of his legs, swallowing as he thought, his eyes fluttering from the page in front of him to you. “Well, Alcatraz was shut down, Studebaker stopped production, the USSR sent the first woman into space…” he trailed off, watching you as the gears began to spin in your head.

“Do you think he died in the Coliseum explosion?” You wet your lips and he couldn’t help but smile at you.

“Maybe he died in the USS Thresher sinking?” He was thankful that he could capture your thoughtful gaze in this picture.

“You’re smart, Dream. Have I ever told you that?” He chuckled at the sigh in your voice. He detailed the bomber jacket you were wearing---which you’d stolen from his closet god knows when---a bit as you placed a piece of paper over the engraving and rubbed a crayon against the stone, his name coming to life on the paper as you came to life on Clay’s. It didn’t matter why you two would be in the cemetery, you always had a type of bond with the dead, surprising Clay due to how bright you were and your power of holding onto so much compassion. He threw his sketchbook into his backpack and slug in over his shoulder, moving to help you up. You decided to give the rest of the flowers to George as Clay stood next to you, gazing down at his grave.

A high-pitched moan startled the two of you, snapping your heads to look over the hedges separating your section of graves and the one beside it. Clay’s eyes widened as they fell to a girl in all black with porcelain skin propped on top of one of the tombstones. You clasped your hand over his mouth pulling him onto the ground next to you as you peered through a hole in the bushes. His mind noticed your arms first. One of them was secured over his chest and the other wrapped around his shoulder from beneath his arm, holding onto him as he steadied himself in the weird crouching position. “Are you enjoying this?” He jeered, looking over his shoulder slightly as he heard you snicker. The girl began to ride the stone harder.

“How many times in your life are you going to see a girl humping a gravestone? Honestly, Clay, how many?” He shook his head as you both looked at the girl, giggling to yourselves. You dug her face into his shoulder trying to stifle the next laugh trying to rip through your body as the gothic girl moaned, letting out more labored breaths. Clay’s face contorted into a twisted look of disgust as the girl tugged on her own hair. “Oh, do you think that hurts?” You took the words out of his mouth, tightening your arms around him as he shrugged.

“I doubt it’s any rockier than sex with a human.” He bit his lip, a hollow sound interrupting him quietly laughing at his own joke as you thumped him in the chest. The girl moaned louder. “Alright, she’s climaxing. I’m uncomfortable now.” Clay stood and Willow popped up next to him, lacing your fingers with his, bringing color back to his cheeks as you slipped the remaining marbles into his pocket.

“Oh, hi!” In the midst of holding hands with you again and trying to slink back to his car, he hadn’t even realized that the moaning had stopped. The girl now stood near the two of you in what seemed to be a black slip. Clay found it hard to make direct eye contact with her. “Are you guys looking for someone?”

“We were, but we couldn’t find him so-” you began, gesturing for Clay’s car and pulling him next to you.

“Well, I can help. Who are you looking for?” A thousand sarcastically vulgar comments ran through Clay’shead but his eyes flickered from her face to the tombstone she was on previously.

“Uh, my grandpa. His name was Rupert Daniels,” Clay managed to choke out. Your nails dug into his arm while your hand squeezed his. The girl looked around at the surrounding stones.

“I don’t see him right now, but I can look?” You both shook your heads quickly and muttered various responses before finally slipping away from her and getting into his car. Neither of you said anything as you pulled off the gravel driveway until crossing the railroad tracks when Clay burst out laughing.

“Do you think she even knew who it was she was gettin’ it on with or did she just pick somewhere random?” Clay laughed harder at your stunned response. “I’m serious. Clay, what the fuck. How can someone even get off in a cemetery?”

“I don’t know, man. Would you hook up with someone in a cemetery?” Clay quipped, wiggling his eyebrows at you, causing you to laugh. You dug into his console, pulling out a bag of M&Ms you had stashed in there last week, popping one in your mouth.

“Only if it was you.”

He giggled. “Excuse me, what?”

“There are just some things you do with certain people, Dream. You know what I mean.”

“I don’t know if I should be flattered I’m the only one you would have sex with in a cemetery, or like, disgusted?” You laughed at his reaction.

Within ten minutes the sun had begun to set and Clay sang loudly with you to the song playing over the radio as Clay sped along one of the county roads near your apartment complex, not wanting the night to end. He loved these moments with you. You turned down the radio and threw your hair back into a ponytail. “So, what do you think of that new kid, Mark?” Something in Clay shifted, taking away the free feeling he had recently possessed next to you. He thought carefully.

He chewed his bottom lip. “Depends on what you think?”

“Well, he seems like a wannabe Punz. And he asked me out. Naturally, I said ‘yes’ because maybe he’s different?” Clay chuckled at your sarcasm, putting his car in park on the side of the street your flat was on and getting out with you. The radio still hummed in the air lowly. “He insisted on Friday, though.” Clay dramatically acted like you had stabbed him in the heart, even though it did hurt. Friday night was their night. It had been a running tradition for movie night every Friday since your freshman year and you had never canceled on Clay for a date. “I know, I know. But I figured that I’d tell him I had diarrhea when it hit eight o’clock and be over at your place with an extra pizza? Your roommate’s working right?” He chuckled with a nod, walking you up the first three steps to your place as you made it to the concrete landing. You turned to him. “And he said he was taking me somewhere fancy, so I’ll snag you some breadsticks.” He tilted his head at you as you winked at him.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Wanna be Punz might be fun. Maybe I’ll call up Minx and hang out with her?” He joked. Minx was a friend of yours that hung out with the two of you sometimes. He had never really liked her, but she was friends with you and thus he was always civil.

“You’re still my number one, babe.” You pushed him slightly as you climbed a few more steps, leaning on the railing as he waved to leave. “Hey, Dream?” He turned on his heel as you forced yourself to make eye contact. He stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets. “You could kiss me, you know? For science.” You smiled softly at him from where you were perched. He wet his lips as his heart hammered in his chest. He wanted to scale the steps and close the space between you, to knock you off your feet and show you just how much he was in love with you.

He hated himself. “A first kiss should have more magic in it than just for science. As a romantic, you should know first hand.” You smiled at the ground in front of you.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” The two of you seemed to shake off the serious moment as you stuck your tongue out at him and slipped inside your house as both giggled.

“I love you,” he murmured as you left, punching himself in the shoulder as he got back into his car.

Clay’s heartbeat pulsed in his ears, making him truly believe he was going to pass out. He had lost his gun at least a mile back. He was running mindlessly now, not knowing how long or where he was going. He trudged through the forest, hearing dogs barking and gunshots erupting around him, the ringing in his ears building with every step he forced himself to make. He wanted to rip open the front of his jacket to release the body heat drenching his collar, but he didn’t move other than propelling his body further and further away from the soldiers. You ran beside him, holding your skirt up while your hair danced around your shoulders like a great waterfall. As soon as his body felt like it might just give out, he would look at you and somehow find more of a drive to pull forward. His breaths were brittle and hoarse as he drew in borrowed oxygen. His lungs felt shallow like they were giving out on him.

You reached back, grasping his hand and pulling him into a sharp corner, hoping to lose the group. You both had managed to weave into the forest, but the dogs were somehow still picking up on your scent. The pair of you finally came upon a clearing and kneeled down out of sight, spotting a house in the middle of a glen. Bullets were streaming through the air. The forest was catching fire and cannons were echoing through the distant air. You squeezed his hand tightly, looking at him with terror in your eyes. He had gotten the two of you into this mess, but he was glad he was beside you.

He pulled you to your feet as the pair of you sprinted for a distant house. A sharp pain stabbed into Clay’s back, making him drop to the ground. How did he not hear the gun? You dropped to your feet, your eyes welling with tears, ripping at his jacket, but he pushed you off, telling you to leave quickly. He leaned forward, eyes locking on the soldiers in gray coming towards them, reloading their rifles. He groaned, pushing himself up, but only having the same stabbing sensation two more times in his chest. He heard you scream, but he couldn’t see you.

His hands were going numb as he touched where the bullets entered, feeling the warm and sticky crimson substance seep between his fingers. The soldiers reached you before you had made it to the house, pulling you to the ground next to him. You were crying heavily as you looked at him. Everything began to run quiet as you held onto him tightly. You were saying something to him, but he couldn’t hear you. He was only aware of his jacket soaking with blood. He coughed, wanting to tell you he loved you one last time, but you were tugged away from him, pressed to one of the men in gray. He raised a hand to you as you fought against the man. And then everything went dark.

Dream Tag List: (hopefully this works)

@karlkitten @pluto-dizzz @more-like-reyna @honk-izzie-was-taken @marrymetheonott @froggyy06 @ghoulandghost @savingpluto @marshmallow-babe @drunkpumpkincake @unstableye @tinyegg @behzzyboo @twist3dtinkerbell @sparkletash @shroomieissmall @clubfairy @camerondiaz48104 @victory-is-here @rat-poisin @alm334 @acidluvs @pachowpachowbucket @bbigbbrainn @cdizzlevalntyne @idiotinnit @generallysleepdeprived @sacvf @phsychopathetic @froggerrrr @robinslie @essencee @jemalovesmarvel @sbi-is-my-onlysanity @jenlouvre @victoria-a567 @miilliiie @bunnylotl @thegirlwhowritesawksh-t @carlyferrell @dumb-chaotic-bi-energy @nyxieahh @quivvyintheclouds @sarcasticmichelle @book-of-anarchy @millavalntyne @lightdreamy @baddiesforcorpse @sunnynapp @fantasy-innit @rat-poisin @wreny24 @deepestofwaters @exenestea @indecisivehusky @fallxnly @alm334 @skaratjung @punzcanrailme @sap-naps @denki-exe @angeltears18 @silvemistxe33 @andreamalik6 @kris-stuff @sun-fiower-seed @where-thesundoesntshine @dilfdream @esmegregory04 @itsparasocial @mlqcool @mcgoddess404 @rinatdawn @chaoscait @peppermintkisses @libbynotfound @speedrunningtherapy @lunxramour @aoonai @loraleiix @ghoulpixiie

[draftingteacups]

Ok so i was going through twst tags and found your Pokemon au and tried to read through it but i wanted to start at the beginning and scrolled for so long and still never got to the bottom, so you have a master list because i am very excited about this

Oh hello there!

Welcome to the blog! ���� and holy crap, I've got 450+ posts and most of them are TWST x PKMN lkajsdljklkjas

Well, I'd first like to start off by mentioning that there's the main fanfiction for the Pokemon AU by the name of "The Eternal Blooming Flower" written by me on AO3! At the current moment, the fanfic sits at 90K words and is currently near the end (kind of) of Episode 1.

The MC for the TWST X PKMN story goes by the name of Soni Monet, which you can find on the pinned master list on my Tumblr. There's no romance involved with the MC and the TWST teens because I like to focus on relationships first and foremost. Also, there's a bunch of world-building, but there are footnotes👍

Alongside that would be the list of Pokemon that are going to be featured in the fanfiction mentioned above because it helps me and others keep track of where everyone's going (I'm starting to realize how extra I am as I type this); this contains the most recent update to the story and thus may contain spoilers.

Personally, I'd go ahead and read the fic to get an understanding of Soni because you'd get a better understanding of her character since she's in a majority of my posts.

On Tumblr, you can ask asks about things from me to say hi, hello, and just chat about Pokemon stuff, the TWST boys, or both. Mostly both lol. There's also a button for what was written first on there for certain things if you're using a desktop, but I'm not sure about mobile. I'm still working that out myself 😅

One thing to note is that there are somewhat spoiler-based things scattered about on here for future Pokemon in the story and certain characters, mainly because I fell in love with some concepts and ran with it. Predominant ones are Swanna (who is very highly chaotic and based on the Untitled Goose Game's goose; coming soon to the fic) as well as Happiny (who's yet to be born, but still incredibly beloved because she is baby).

I write little bits and pieces around the place in What-Ifs like for events, which I've considered the Events as Non Canon for the sake of timelines. What Ifs include a romance between Soni and the TWST Boys, certain scenarios like certain people doing certain things, etc..

There's Soni taking on the role of Casual Geographic where she informs the public, mostly NRC on the dangers of Pokemon in a blank-faced and serious manner. This is also known as Casual Geographic Soni, or Casual Pokegraphic Soni. With this one, you can pretty much look around and enjoy the fun of Pokemon trivia and general hilarity like why you should not mess with the murder hornets known as Beedrills or why Happiny can benchpress you and be hella cute doing so.

One of my personal favorites is this ask that talked about Soni dealing with the possibility of a Pokemon Crime Syndicate rising in Twisted Wonderland and it's over 8K (took me nearly a day to write it all, but it's just so much fun). It's based on Casual Geographic Soni informing the public via her Magicam account and it quickly evolved into a short story that may or may not be used in the fanfic later on.

I hope this helps! 👍

[mggpleasedontlookhere]

adams

request: Hi! I have a request, could you do one where the reader is a part of the BAU team, and she’s dating Spence, and she’s watching him interrogate Cat Adams, and she has to hear her say that she’s pregnant with Spence’s baby? Thanks!

for: @mggbler​

word count: 2,965                                                                                                reading time aprox: 11 mins 

a/n: so i’m back? also another thing, if you are requesting an imagine, id really appreciate it if you had your username listed as it will be much easier to tag you, but it is whatever you’re comfortable with <3

masterlist

My fingertips drummed against the cool concrete frame that lined the two-way window. My feet were firmly planted on the hard floors of the prison as I gazed intensely at the scene before me. An ember lit aflame inside of me as Cat Adams tantalizingly edged closer towards Spencer, diminishing the proximity between their faces. Every tedious inch she took, I dissociated farther and farther away into my headspace; although I could still hear her pretentious tone through my earpiece as she brushed her fingers against Spencer’s eyelids. 

“Close your eyes”  

This is bullshit. 

“Good, now keep them shut. Sit back and relax” 

I turned my head aside to look away, pinching the inner crevice of my elbow to regain my sense of reality. My composure was noticeably calm on the exterior, something I’ve picked up in the years of working at the BAU, but the expanding coil of indignation continued to wind as time passed. 

My patience had always been one of my greatest virtues, yet Cat Adams was able to deteriorate that virtue with her nonchalant fingers softly grazing the skin of Spencer’s hands, the licking of her lips as she whispered suggestive words on his neck, and that flame in her eyes that convinced her she was all-powerful. 

“Now when you open your eyes...I want you to look at me like I’m the first woman you’ve seen after being in prison for three months” 

I breathed through my lips, reassuring myself of Spencer’s affections. Yet an insurmountable amount of insecurity peaked into the bottom of my stomach, clawing its way up to my throat. I felt restrained within my own skin, combating the urge to pick and pry at the flesh. 

“If she touches…” I muttered to myself, biting the inside of my cheek as my words trailed off into uncomfortable anticipation. 

“You’re here! You’re really here” Cat celebrated, welcoming Spencer in her chaotic delusion. A mischievous grin appeared on her lips, Spencer fabricating a benevolent facade as he let himself grow comfortable in her scheme. 

 “There is nowhere else I would rather be” Spencer replied with many endeavors, sending a chilling shot through my chest. 

 It’s fake...it’s all fake 

“You’re good at this...you’re so good at this” Cat shook her head, gazing at Spencer with much admiration and recognition. “I almost believe you don’t want to kill me” She teased. 

 “I don’t want to kill you” Spencer hastily admitted, replicating Cat’s gaze of fervor. As ironic as it seemed, it became a game of cat and mouse. Who would concede first? 

 “What if I let your mother die?” Cat blurted out, gauging at Spencer’s reaction to her explicit words. But to no avail, Spencer expressed no tells or twitches that would give away his robust collectedness. “Then would you kill me?” She continued. 

 Spencer stared at her with an unimpressed look, unfazed by the mention of his mother. A small smirk resided on the corners of his supple lips, raising his eyebrows in a lack of interest as if the lifeless walls of the room seemed blasé. 

 “Oh...my mistake” She paused, chuckling to herself as a devious Cheshire grin appeared on her lips. “What about Y/N?” She spat. 

 How did she…

 The once present smirk on Spencer’s face faltered, yet he remained his fortitude. He closed in on her, peering at her in suspicion. “What about Y/N?” Spencer reiterated, using reverse psychology to throw her off. 

 Cat pushed herself off the edge of the table, leaning back into her chair with an impervious attitude. “Cut the crap Spencie, I know about your little romance” She taunted humorously, rolling her eyes as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I know about the little pet you keep around” She badgered, causing a chink off of Spencer’s armor to be revealed. 

 My fists clenched beside me, absorbing the evident frustration coursing through my veins. I cringed as I bit down on the muscle of my cheeks, the taste of metal coating my tongue momentarily. I kept myself grounded for the sake of the interrogation, but if the life of Diana and Spencer wasn’t on the line, I would be the one interviewing the psychotic bitch myself. 

 “I thought we were supposed to be talking about my mother” Spencer breathed out, leaning back in his chair to cover up for his slip in character. 

 “You know what’s the best part, Spencie?” Cat leaned over the table, ignoring the words Spencer had previously spoken and hovered a few inches away from his ear. For a moment she deviated her focus from Spencer and directed it towards the two-way glass. Even in the split second, she broke away from her main target, you could see the mischief and ego festering in the pit of her eyes. “I know she’s watching us...I know how much it’s killing her just watching us” Cat seduced, trailing her fingertips suggestively up Spencer’s arm. 

Spencer tore his shoulder away from her roughly, pulling up the cuffs of his sleeves in a sensible manner. “You said you wanted to play a game earlier,” Spencer reminded her, battling the urge to prove Cat wrong and reassure the woman on the other side of the glass. “Is it the same as last time?” 

 “Oh Spencie…” Cat sighed, retracting herself back to her seat. Suddenly her stare drifted back to the two-way glass, and with as much authority she can harbor, she peered through the mirror with much affliction. “I can’t wait till she finds out about Mexico” She blurted out in faux innocence. 

 This pricked at Spencer’s ears, leading him to profile the words that spilled out her mouth. “What happened in Mexico?” He inquired, pressing her on the missing fragments of his whereabouts that lead to his arrest. She simply tiptoed around his request, taunting him as she refused to take her blazing eyes off the glass. 

A loud bang reverberated off the walls. This caused Cat’s attention to halt as it shifted towards the source of the ringing sound, only to find out that it was Spencer’s hand harshly slamming against the table. “What happened in Mexico?” Spencer reiterated once again, but this time his tone barely held back the chagrin clouding his rationality. The booming volume of his usually gentle voice complimented the aftershock of the wood beneath his palm as it still rattled underneath his force. 

“Are you getting a little aggressive Spencie? I didn’t even know you were capable of that” She mocked, tucking her arms to her side while her hands roamed the circumference of her stomach. Spencer glared at her incredulously, deciding that he had enough of her drudging ploys. He pushed his chair back, making the motion to get up and leave the room, but before he had the opportunity to stand up, two words were revealed into the already perturbed air.  

“I’m pregnant,” 

Spencer froze in his spot, taking a moment to breathe before shaking his head and proceeding towards the door. I scoffed in disgust, waiting for Spencer on the other side of the door. Even for Cat this was low. 

 I can’t imagine anyone using pregnancy for their own gai-

 “...actually we’re pregnant, Spencie” 

Everything stilled. Oxygen refused to fill my lungs and my blood ran cold. The same seemed to occur with Spencer as his feet were motionless like he was stuck in a fragment of time. The words kept passing through me like waves echoing from a cymbal, only this time it was endless. No matter what I did, the words never resonated in my head. I became deaf, some may say that I was in denial. But I heard it. I heard it slip past as a whisper on her lips. 

 I felt numb for what seemed like an eternity. But it was that same numbness that I wished never went away, so I wouldn’t have felt the overwhelming sickness that came after. My stomach boiled with an uncomfortable sensation. The ringing descended into the quiet of my mind as clarity began to flood my consciousness. 

That’s not...that’s not possible

Cat did it. She found a way--a loophole. 

Can it be possible?

I suppressed the paralyzing thoughts into a small compartment of my mind, letting a small murmur of reason dictate my actions. With naive hope, I rushed to a guard to request a Cat’s health records with much haste. After the small interaction, all I could do was wait.  

Wait for answers. Wait for the truth. 

Yet again my virtues were being tested. I thought the first time I would harbor an immense uneasiness over pregnancy, it would be my own. I was imprisoned in my own doubts and speculation, but I can’t even begin to comprehend the thoughts that are permeating the dark place of Spencer’s mind. 

What does this mean for me and...

No, I can’t think like that. She’s probably lying. 

But what if…

I shook the thoughts out of my head, focusing on the grey-tinted walls that surrounded me. I forced myself to fixate on how the overhead light reflected on the shiny tiles beneath my feet, while I let the background noises of an operating prison engulf my sense of hearing. 

But nothing could ever prevent my buried thoughts from climbing out from the back of my subconscious. Nothing could stop the anticipation that coursed through my veins, threatening to stop my heart altogether.  

Nothing could’ve stopped me from knowing. 

-

The cold zing of the walls was the only thing that tethered me to reality. I felt the way my hip bones would shift under my weight as I sat motionless in the hallway. I felt the pressure and ache that began to build under my knees as they were pressed against my chest. A heavy film cast over my eyelids, making it exhausting for me to keep them open. There was an agonizing shackle tugging at my chest, restraining me from taking a fresh breath. I was battered and beaten, not physically, but mentally. 

With two words, Cat Adams had managed to send me spiraling down a sinkhole that I didn’t know how to get out of. I was stuck, encased in my own headspace. I didn't know what was worse: being in prison or being imprisoned by the person you detested the most. 

I thought the worst was over when she confessed to her pregnancy. I thought the anguish that I experienced hit its climax. But little did I know that the growing hole in my chest only consumed me further when I found out she was telling the truth. 

In bold letters, ‘pregnant’ was displayed on the front of her health records. Now they were measly tossed to the floor in a flurry of confusion and anger. 

A choked breath emerged from my esophagus, finally feeling the full impact of the circumstances that I was in the middle of. I was furious, dazed, and somber simultaneously, and I didn’t know if it was for me or Spencer. 

Spencer…

Does he know it's true? Would he know?

He wouldn’t have chea…? No, he wouldn’t 

As if it was the answer to my inquiries, the clatter of footsteps resounded from the head of the hallway, the clacks against the floor growing in volume as they approached me. Stunned by my own senses, I didn’t even notice the sight of grey fabric coming in from my peripheral view. 

It was only until I heard the rhythmic beat of the footsteps faltering in a slower pace till they stopped completely. Suddenly, a tender hand apprehensively reached out from beside me. Warmth instantly radiated off its palm as it battled with the chilled temperature of my skin. Then, a voice, belonging to Spencer, followed the small gesture in a quaint and reserved tone. 

“I…” He paused, intertwining his fingers with mine. “I know I haven’t talked about Mexico--or prison for the matter. I know that sometimes I close myself up in a box and hideaway, and you tell me it's okay if I’m not comfortable,” He swallowed his words for a moment, staring at his sprawled-out legs in front of him as he struggled to find the right words. “But I also know how much it hurts you when I do…” He uttered out. “I know that it hurts you when JJ’s the only person I can talk to about what happened” He turned his head to gauge my reception, but all I could bring my attention to was the soreness in my chest at his mentions. 

“Did you know?” I meekly whispered. 

“I don’t...I don’t know” Spencer answered unsurely. His voice seemed depleted of any assurance he carried with him when it came to his knowledge. I guess that was a common denominator between us in the present circumstance. “I don’t...I don’t know what she did” He sucked in a sharp breath, careful to let his words teeter around the break in his voice. 

“She’s really pregnant Spence…” I muttered, squeezing the clutch he had on my hand. “It’s gonna be okay Spence. I know you would never…” My voice trailed off into the uncertainty of my words, yet the hope that was latched onto me prevailed. “There’s more to this, I know it” I stated with much determination. 

“What if it’s...it’s mine?” He gasped, a melancholy air following his statement. 

“Well, you didn’t, you know-” 

“No, I--I would never” He finished the sentence, racking his head for clues. 

“Then there has to be someone el-”  

“She did something,” Spencer cut me off. “When I was in there, she told me that Lindsey--she got me to…”. By the wavering of his voice, I knew where this was headed. “A-and she told Lindsey to pretend that she was you…” He scoffed, shaking his head in self-reproach.  

“Spence…” I tried to stop him from his own demise, but I knew the second he started sputtering words, there would be no mercy to it. 

“She started mocking you and my mom, and that’s when...I don’t--I” He paused, licking his lips. “I felt so angry--more than I’ve ever had in my life--and I just,” He retracted his hand from mine in an instant, brushing the stray hairs away from his face. “I pushed her Y/N. I pushed her against the wall and I started--gosh--I started choking her Y/N”. The structure of his tone fizzled out into a meek mumble, an indication that he was battling his internal demons. 

The guilt and agony on his face were enough to devastate an entire colony. So much weight and history hung on the surface of his shoulders that it was starting to deteriorate. “I’m...I’m scared that this is who I am now” He lamented, picking at the small pebbles that littered the floor. 

“No, don’t say that” I protested. 

“Y/-Y/N, you don’t know…” He sighed. 

“I do know” I affirmed, reaching out to clasp his hand in mine once again. “I know you had to do things in prison, things you aren’t proud of, but anyone in your position would have done the same-”  

“You wouldn’t have”  

“Yes. Yes, I would have Spence” I remarked. “If someone threatened my life, if...if someone threatened my chance of seeing you again...”. I placed a gentle hand under his chin, making our eyes meet. “You bet your ass I would. It doesn’t make you a bad person” I finished my spiel, looking into his dull eyes in the hopes he would recognize that I meant every word.

“Then why do I feel like this? I’ve let down the team, my mom, and you…” 

I cupped his face in my hands, although he refused to look at me in the eyes. “Spence,” I breathed. “You have not done a single thing to disappoint anybody” I shook my head as my voice trembled under the weight of the conversation. “If you disappointed anyone, then why is the entire team working to get this psychotic bitch on death row? Why are they trying to save your mom? Why do I love you?” I professed, every endearing word flowing out of my lips with ease.  

Silence encompassed both of us, but the dense atmosphere still created an evident divide. Suddenly, he met my eyes with his solemn ones, but something was different. A minuscule glint of prospect flashed in the pool of his irises. The color and life began to emerge from the dreariness of his countenance and the warmth of his skin began to crimson his cheeks. A relieved gasp escaped my lips as he peered at me with much endearment. 

“Do you really think that?” He whispered. I nodded in response, taking my bottom lip into my teeth as I took in the beauty of his rejuvenating presence. From there I knew Spencer would slowly fill up again. I knew it was going to be hard, but I also knew that I wouldn’t hesitate to take every step with him. 

 “I know that everything isn’t clear right now Spence. But I think--I know--that you’re the only person here that can solve this” 

 “You’re wrong” He breathed. 

 I stared at him with a baffled expression, encouraging him to continue his position. 

“I can’t...I wouldn’t be able to do all of this,” He rested his hand on the apple of my cheek, caressing the supple skin with his thumb. “...not without you” 

-

taglist: @rexorangecouny​ @howdycharlie​ @linthebinbag​ @honeymilk-4​ @andreasworlsboring101​

[qm-vox]

So You Want To Play A Fairest

(Portrait of Erin Peters by cantankerousAquarius. The character originally appeared in Night Horrors: Grim Fears, published by White Wolf; catch my take on her in New Avalon)

Previous Articles: So You Want To Play A Beast, So You Want To Play A Wizened, So You Want To Play An Elemental, So You Want To Play An Ogre, & So You Want To Play A Darkling

You ever wonder, flipping through a Monster Manual for D&D, or a Bestiary for Pathfinder, why nymphs and hags are both always, always, women? It’s older than you know. Dig into the sordid history of tabletops and you’ll find sylphs that Gary Gygax wrote, Chaotic charmers who use mind control to reproduce with non-sylph men; you’ll find the legacy of the matriarchal drow, who follow a mad goddess, and you’ll find the medusae, whose sexual dimorphism is so complete that their men are beautiful and can turn stone into people.

Dredge deeper and you’ll find the tales that Gygax and his wretched ilk based such creatures off of.

You ever wonder why we assign such powerful Gender to creatures of beauty and horror?

Fairest don’t. They know, every time they wake up from a nightmare that is also a wet dream. They know, every time they get hit on at the bar and have to decide how they’re playing this. They know, every time they look in a mirror and see not their own face, but the ten thousand horrors that made it beautiful.

If you are very patient, and lucky, and kind, they might tell you why.

If you aren’t, they may show you.

This article draws primarily on Changeling: the Lost and Winter Masques, as well as Swords at Dawn and Night Horrors: Grim Fears. Other sources, when used, will be cited. It requires Content Warnings for sexual violence, sexual slavery, abuse, gaslighting, addiction, substance abuse, self-harm, self-image problems, mentions of fascists & fascist ideology, and just, so very much incel bullshit.

Bonus Material Part Two: The Seeming Part

The end of this article, just past the customary Sample Fairest, will include some additional material intended to help you select a Seeming for your character and otherwise build them up as one of the Lost, much as So You Want To Run A Spring Court included material for Courts as a topic.

Take Me To Wonderland - Fairest Overview

Fairest is the fourth Seeming presented in Changeling: the Lost and possibly the most confused about its own identity. Its sections in Winter Masques present depths and nuance that are completely absent in core, essentially making Winter Masques required reading for Fairest players in a way that no other book is - especially since Fairest keep getting written in a particular way alluded to in the Ogre article, which I will expand on later in this article. Fairest is numerically well-represented in canon and popular in the fanbase, home to many memorable character concepts, but its bones with folklore and tradition are weaker than it fronts as.

Ogres and Darklings claim an innate relationship to physical violence; so too do the Fairest claim a relationship to violence. The violence of Perception and its dark twin, Judgement; of Rumor and its mad dog, Prejudice, the violence of Lies and their merciless master, Truth. Fairest, alone among the Lost, have casual access to the resources of a society that refuses to service or acknowledge Changelings, and with access to that society comes both opportunity and temptation. To be Fairest is to wield power that many other Lost cannot, but the opportunity that power offers is a lie; a Fairest can smile until her face breaks like a mirror, but she’ll never be “sane” enough for the masses to see her as anything but a useful pet.

Life’s Lush Lips - Homecoming As A Fairest

Fairest can make the dubious claim of having the least clear memories of Arcadia amongst all the Lost, with Darklings and Beasts jockeying for second place. This isn’t to say that the experiences Fairest have are necessarily more intense or more inherently traumatic than that of other Lost, but rather that the abuse Fairest suffer is so emotional, so targeted at their perception of their selves and their situations and their self-image, that the memories which do form are inevitably colored by those emotions, coloring the dreams they have of Arcadia with both the emotional resonances they had at the time and with their later attempts to grapple with their own trauma and transformation. For many Fairest, who cannot trust even their strongest memory dreams, attempts to understand their own Durance must rely either on the word of their Keepers (and Faeries lie, oh, how they lie), or on reverse-engineering their own behavior to try and conceive of a trauma that could cause it.

Inevitably, however, some things are seared into their minds. For almost all Fairest, their Keeper is high on the list of things they remember with absolute clarity. Other facts, shattered and scattered, vary more widely. Erin Peters remembers stretched years kept in a cold, dark room lit only by her own hatred; every detail of her cell is scorched onto the back of her eyes, but the otherworldly balls her Keeper took her to blur together like food coloring in syrup. The slaves of the Candle Countess have terrible nightmares of the choices they were confronted with, the decision, offered over and over again, to become complicit in the Countess’s cruelty or to be victimized by it. Metallic Flowering from the Shining City struggle not to use drugs to mimic the rush of pleasure they’ve grown used to receiving for performing their jobs well; they also scream in terror if people touch them. A Draconic and a Shadowsoul both remember being used for the sexual pleasure of alien horrors; the one dreams of coiled scales and terrible teeth, the other a lifetime of lurking in an alien maze, tasked to perform the duties of a living trap for the “wicked” and “unwary” who had not yet shed the last vestiges of kindness.

There are no “wild” Fairest. For worse and worse still, to be Fairest is to have been defined by the inescapable and all-consuming attentions of your abuser, and it is this more than anything that other Lost so often fail to understand about the Fairest. Their Keepers heap them with reward and punishment, manipulating the Fairest with honeyed praise, godly wrath, gaslighting, neglect, withholding food, wondrous rewards, drugs from beyond the realms of earthly pleasure, and other hooks and crooks designed to make the Fairest dependent upon their abuser. It is hideously effective, and the first obstacle, maybe even the mightiest, that a Fairest faces to their escape is the simple horror and joy of being alone again. Their masters will try other tricks to keep them in place - tempting them with pleasures, horrific punishments, oh-so-sincere apologies - but before a Fairest can escape into the Hedge she must face, in her mind’s eye, the lonely flight back to the Iron Lands.

The memories that draw Fairest home often have parallels to their experiences in Arcadia. A slave in the Shining City bites into an otherworldly pastry and recalls her grandmother’s pie in its place; the bride of the Demon Lover, curled up under the sheets, thinks about the broken smile of the boyfriend she left behind at home. A Dancer remembers the roller rink where he fell in love with skating, while across the endless tides of the Fairest of Lands, a Shadowsoul holds on like grim death to years of work at haunted houses, scaring kids for fun and for Halloween. Fairest, so famous for their skill at words, struggle to articulate to other Lost why this should be so. Darklings assume it’s because these memories are less intense than Arcadia, and that the Fairest are fleeing to safety. Beasts get it a bit more right by thinking that these memories taste like home. The truth of the matter is that those memories have an intrinsic and nameless meaning; the highs and lows of Arcadia are divine, flawless, absolute, and therefore worthless. They are the proclamations of merciless gods. What draws the Fairest home, more than pain and pleasure they can have on their own terms, is the understanding that those gestures - for weal or for woe or for anything else besides - were made because someone cared about them, personally. Once they fully internalize that their abuser views them as disposable, the Fairest comes home to someone who won’t.

Three Kiths And Flowering Is One And A Half Of Them - Fairest Kiths

Yeah we’re about to be like that about it.

All Fairest can excel in the social arena; their Blessing can be used to flare almost every social roll in the game, and Fairest can never be caught off-guard in a social context (they suffer no untrained penalties to social rolls). With the sole exception of Empathy (usually rolled with Wits) and sometimes Streetwise, there’s no time a Fairest can’t fall back on their words and expect to win through or at least buy time. This is, as you might imagine, a godsend when it comes to attempts to pass in mortal society; Fairest can usually front, charm, bluff, or Manners(tm) their way through things like renting an apartment, nailing a job interview, asking their roommate to do the FUCKING DISHES, or getting stopped by a cop, but both the books and the fanbase miss something here. While Fairest are superb at active social events, they’re no better at keeping a lid on themselves (Composure-based rolls) than mortals are - and given both the nature of their trauma and the fact that they are, you know, Lost, Fairest have a lot more to keep a lid on day-to-day than the human society they’re trying to blend into. Thankfully, Fairest are pretty good at being able to politely leave a situation and go somewhere else to scream, shout, cry, or have a psychotic break, as appropriate.

Of course, Fairest can’t make something from nothing. As discussed in So You Want To Play An Ogre, you can’t win a social game someone else refuses to sit down to, and social rolls shouldn’t be mind control. All the Glamour in the world can’t make your roommate do the FUCKING DISHES if they’re deep in the throes of executive dysfunction, nor can it make the cashier at Walgreens fail to card you for wine when their computer literally won’t advance without an ID. People who are keyed up about honeyed words or whose own trauma came at the hands of manipulators and abusers might refuse to play that game on the terms the Fairest is setting, which makes it hard to, as it were, turn this problem into a nail. Lurking down this path as well is the specter of becoming like the masters who made you this way; if you get used to saying what will get people to listen to you, eventually you start seeing people as enrichment puzzles that dispense the things you want. Madness waits down that road, and it waits for Fairest with a giant spiked bat, thanks to their Seeming Curse.

There’s no pretty way to say this so I won’t: Fairest are always on the verge of losing their minds. Their curse hits them with a flat penalty to all rolls against losing Clarity, which means that Fairest lose Clarity faster than other Lost and they do so more consistently. This necessitates a balancing act with avoiding becoming heartless manipulators; Fairest must engage in control-seeking behavior in order to stay mentally well, must be able to trust and rely on people close to them, structure their lives, and anticipate important changes or they end up on the fast way down. Other Lost often don’t understand this need or the Fairest curse to begin with, and so Fairest end up in unofficial support groups for one another, similar to those run by Darklings except no one will admit it’s a support group even at gunpoint. Woe fucking betide the friend or life partner who gets between a Fairest and her “book club”, “girls’ night”, “D&D campaign”, or other excuse for this vital community support.

Fairest Kiths are...bad. They’re bad. This is the part of the article where I’m supposed to talk about thematics and symbolism and metaphor, and I cannot do that here, because they are bad. Fairest has three viable Kiths that are actual Fairest Kiths, one that’s a Beast Kith who got lost and wound up here by fucking mistake, and a pile of garbage bigger than my self-esteem problems. I’m almost tempted to only talk about those four Kiths and save myself the time but I suppose I should show the work like I’ve done for all the other Seemings, so here we fuckin’ go I guess.

Flowering - This is it. This is the Fairest Kith. If you want to roll any other kind of Fairest you must first pass the trial of justifying why you’re not playing Flowering. In theory, Flowering draws its mythic heritage from nymphs and dryads, charming flower sprites, Knights of Flowers, and the like, but in practice Flowering’s only mechanical effect is 9-again on Persuasion, Socialize, and Subterfuge with no qualification or requirement, which doesn’t just make you better at everything Fairest is good at, it makes you better when you spend Glamour to flare it too. Want to represent a biobahn sith’s hypnotic dance? Flowering works. Want to create a vampiric Fairest with a sultry voice? Here comes Flowering. The siren at the bar who smells like sea air and gunpowder? Flowering. Everything is Flowering. Even the things that aren’t Flowering are Flowering because all Fairest Kiths have a social focus, which is Flowering’s undisputed arena of mastery.

Bright One - In theory, Bright Ones represent beings of light in the vein of Victorian fey (which...ugh...Victorians), but their Goblin Illumination is, how you say, useless, only becoming vaguely useful for a total of 2 Glamour as a passive defense that took you 2 turns to set up. Anything you want to represent here can be found in Flowering and with Elements or Communion (Light).

Dancer - You know how Flowering gives you bonuses on all social rolls? Would you like those same bonuses but on 1 less skill and only on rolls that “involve physical grace”? No? Run Flowering here and give your character a Dance specialty in one or more skills.

Draconic - One of the game’s premier melee options and a Beast Kith who took a wrong turn and ended up getting a free makeover intended for someone else. Draconic in theory represents Fairest as dragons, monster girls, demons, and in general at their most physical, but that idea sorta...falls down a bit? Draconic’s bonuses are all about Brawl and all the sample Draconics are swordsmen, which might suggest to the discerning reader that someone in the office wasn’t reading their own fucking game. Draconic Fairest don’t make bad melee boys if you invest in Lethal Mien, but honestly this is Dual Kith bait; slap it on your Hunterheart or your Razorhand and go apeshit.

Muse - Close but no cigar. In theory Muses are, well, muses; figures of inspiration, mentorship, teaching, creative fire. Their Kith Blessing is strong but requires access to mortals, which is complicated and roundabout on the best of days. If you have an idea that you think is Muse-shaped, use Playmate instead.

Flamesiren - Behold, we enter the realm of Okay(tm). Flamesirens are what Bright Ones wanted to be, and their hypnotic aura is actually a pretty neat tool; with cunning you can make it a one-sided penalty, and even if you don’t it’s an interesting method of de-escalating a social or combat situation by subjecting everyone to the tar pit that is your presence. If your concept involves light and color and you’re resistant to Flowering, Flamesiren will do more than nothing.

Polychromatic - Polychromatics don’t have a lot of roots in mythology; their modern inspirations are, well, Manic Pixie Dream Girls. But they get a shout-out here for being the only Fairest Kith who can muster up decent emotional defenses; not only can they magically boost their Composure rolls (and non-Composure rolls to resist magical and mundane emotional attacks for that matter), but others get a flat penalty to Empathy rolls against them, which makes them talented dissemblers. You’re still probably better off with Flowering - in a world of passive Kith Blessings, Polychromatic’s is extra passive - but I can see this Kith passing muster, and even being worth the two dots to Dual Kith in-house.

Shadowsoul - This one’s insane. Ostensibly Fairest Does Darkling, Shadowsouls get their Wyrd to Intimidate rolls which could be the whole Kith on its own and still be worth the slot, but in addition to that they get 9-again on Subterfuge (matching Flowering and Darklings there) and access to Contracts of Darkness, one of the most powerful in the game line, as an Affinity Contract. Is your Fairest spooky? Would you like them to be spooky? Here’s your one-stop shop.

Telluric - This is a Kith made of ribbon bonuses. In theory related to stars and celestial light, Telluric’s bonuses to rolls “with precise timing” isn’t...really worth considering. Run ‘em as Flamesiren and move on.

Treasured - In theory also able to muster emotional defenses, Treasured are Fairest who are literally made into works of art. They’re Okay(tm) but in their niche are beaten out by Polychromatic with a better effect for less resources.

Playmate - The last Real Fairest Kith(tm), Playmate appears in Night Horrors: Grim Fears where White Wolf tries to sell it as Peter Pan, but its powerful team-oriented bonuses mean that Playmates are useful anywhere Muse is wanted and more places besides. The front woman of an indie rock band could be a Playmate; so too could be an idealized baseball captain, the director at your local theater, the middle manager of a sinister conspiracy, or the night shift lead at a research lab. Do people do a thing in teams? Playmate does that thing.

And She Had Huge Titties, I Mean Massive Badondadonks, Absolutely Enormous Bazoggahoggas - Lost’s Canon Fairest

Remember when I said we had to get back to this after So You Want To Play An Ogre? Now we’re getting back to this. I’m not gonna re-state my caveats from that article and I’m not really gonna go back over the bit about So White Wolf Was Run By Fucking Nazis because, in all honesty, I do not have the fucking time to restate all of that in new words. Give thanks that OPP got out alive and let’s get right down to it.

Fairest have a very consistent characterization in canon that is only really challenged in Winter Masques; the narrative put forth in Lost is that Fairest, being attractive, have an uncomplicated power which privileges their lives. Which is a rather bloodless way to describe how White Wolf kept writing and publishing Fairest as heartless abusers and manipulators getting their jollies and emotional needs met by casually destroying their fellow survivors, manipulating them through sex appeal, outright lies, cattiness, cruelty, and betrayal. Much as simply queering Ogre does not help Ogre in and of itself, queering Fairest only takes you from incel and Nazi propaganda about women into...incel and Nazi propaganda about twinks, femmes, & in general anyone with the temerity to be found attractive by straight white people.

I’m not bitter, you’re bitter.

So what do you do at your table, with your Fairest concept? Lemme open up by saying that like, Fairest qua Fairest is perfectly solid, and if it wasn’t there wouldn’t be an article here; Fairest has a lot to say for itself about feminized violence, about your personhood being reduced to a product for the consumption of others, about emotional abuse & neglect, gaslighting, and sexual assault, but the conclusion White Wolf arrives at (”Fairest have unalloyed power over mortal and Lost society and they abuse that power”) is super fucking obtuse and betrays a serious lack of concern for what the Fairest undergo. It ignores the way a Fairest’s ordeals will force her to confront her relationship to her own gender and alter her willingness and ability to be consumed, disconnect her from her former society while also isolating her from her new one, and these questions are important for you if you’re looking to play a ‘classic’ Fairest.

But that leaves some hanging questions. Male Fairest face the almost inescapable fate of “failing” maleness on patriarchal terms; even the most strapping, broad-chested, athletic Adonis of a Fairest has become a man of layered words and reflexive empathy, whose Manly Stoicism(tm) is a cracking facade at best and entirely abandoned in a more typical circumstance. Men who become Fairest thus face a second journey after their escape from Arcadia; confronting what being men means to them and building their gender identity back up from the rubble it’s become. The temptation to accept success on society’s terms is always going to be present, and it’s always going to be offered like it’s possible, but it’s a losing game for these Fairest; they simply cannot be the men that other men demand they become.

Now, the discerning and loyal reader is surely about to ask, hey Vox, where’s the butch Fairest I was promised back in the Ogre article, to which I respond WE’RE GETTING THERE but I gotta use this as a bridge to talk about something that cuts across Fairest of all genders, be they cis or trans. Lost 1e makes a lot of hay out of the idea that Fairest “are rarely conventionally attractive”, and core even provides some interesting written concepts for that...which make it into exactly none of the art. Every published Fairest is conventionally attractive for various definitions of conventional, be it as a supermodel or a waif, but that leaves the question of Fairest who genuinely are not - and, tragically, Fairest who were not, and were then made into someone more easily consumed by their Durance. You know what I’m about to say, and I know you know I’m about to say it, but I’m gonna say it anyway: all bodies are beautiful, but Fairest know well that beauty and attraction aren’t the same, and neither are beauty and happiness. All Fairest, from the roundest bear to the most wide-eyed waif, are the products of Keepers who valued their bodies in that state, and that idea is going to haunt them day in and day out for the rest of their extended lives. There is no such thing as a Fairest with an uncomplicated relationship to their body, and that White Wolf seems to think that an uncomplicated relationship is their default state is...disgusting, frankly.

Which brings us, at long last, to butch Fairest (also bear Fairest but I’m gonna stick with the one set of terms or I’m going to go mad and this will never be published), who have a complicated journey ahead of them. On the one hand, the assertion of control and ownership over their own bodies, their own identities, cannot be overstated. On the other hand, elements of those bodies are going to be completely out of their control; a nascent butch Fairest may well hit the gym to get swole only to discover that she literally, physically cannot, that she has been Assigned Dex Build At Durance. Hauling your corpse out of Arcadia with an extremely feminine appearance shaped by your Keeper might complicate attempts to present in a more masculine manner or even just to appear androgynous, and those complications can be discouraging. For those that stick to it, this journey will take them two places; one is the bared-teeth, bloody-knuckled assertion that this life is theirs and you can have it if you can fucking take it, and the other is into the ranks of the Freehold’s retained warriors, usually in Summer or Autumn, though a vibrant representation of Spring knights will make it seem as if Spring has more butch Fairest than it actually does. These Fairest are aware, or will become aware, of how much of their job involves de-escalating or pre-empting violence; a focus on Physical stats or skills is not necessarily common, but hyper-specialization therein likely is. A butch Fairest is a lot more likely to have, say, Brawl 4 (Multiple Opponents) and no other Physical skills than she is to have Brawl, Weaponry, Athletics, and Stealth, in part or in whole because her first weapon of choice is going to be an Intimidate roll.

At every turn you’re able to, challenge White Wolf’s narrative about Fairest by asking yourself what your Fairest wants, why they’re this way, what they’re frightened of, and how the way they behave relates back to these. They’re not products; they’re people, just as hurt and Lost as the rest of their peers.

Princesses And Pastries - Fairest In The Courts

Fairest have a complex relationship to the society of their fellow Lost. On the one hand, they have the same need for community, support, companionship, understanding, honesty, and material aid as all Lost; a Fairest is not magically proof against being homeless, against starving, against the dangers of existing in the modern world without things like a photo ID or car insurance, and Freeholds provide all of these things. On the other hand, the thing most Fairest fear most, even if they can’t articulate that fear, is their own power - social influence, emotional trust and betrayal, status, political power, and authority. Fairest are all too aware that being good at this game does not make them immune to it - after all, that’s the lesson they learned at the hands of their Keepers.

What follows from this is a complex dance of interactions that each Fairest in some ways has to feel like she’s managing on her own, even if she’s not (and she rarely is; those support groups exist for a reason). If you give a Fairest a doughnut in a social setting, she will lick that doughnut even if she doesn’t intend to eat it right away, solely to hear someone else say something along the lines of “well it’s yours now”. As Fairest filter into Freehold society and take up social roles at all levels of power - officers, messengers, ‘ambassadors’ to mortal society, secretaries, pledge-smiths, teachers, monarchs - their responsibilities and rewards become their doughnut. That Fairest make a big deal out of both their job and the benefits that come with it is rarely, as other Lost sometimes think, about aggrandizement or reveling in power for its own sake; it’s about the sheer relief and assurance of hearing someone say, to the Fairest’s face, that this is her doughnut and no one is going to take it from her.

Younger Fairest tend to flit between two or three Courts; their initial selection may be based entirely on friendships, Vibes, or a gut-check decision based on an initial pitch by that Court, and Fairest can go quite far even in a Court that doesn’t quite actually fit their needs. Eventually, though, those Fairest who survive their youth will gravitate towards a Court whose ideals speak to them, even if its current social order isn’t living up to those ideals. If they’re going to be condemned to live as exiles in the world of their birth, the Fairest can at least be the person she wants to be, god damn it. Fairest aren’t any more or less vulnerable to a toxic Court environment than other Lost, but they’re good at detecting it beforehand. Unfortunately they’re also good at telling themselves they can change it.

Spring - Though early Spring joiners are of course rare in general, Fairest are among those Lost who more commonly choose Spring as a first Court. Spring’s highly social focus and chaotic internal organization is almost tailor-made for the skill set of your average Fairest, but therein too lies a sense of threat; for many Fairest, Spring can remind them of their Durance, and their joining of the Court is as much motivated by fear of a powerful cultural body as it is by any genuine Desire, maybe even more so. Many such Fairest end up caught in Spring’s middle-road trap, spinning their wheels without recovering or worsening more or less until they finally die, but when Autumn can sniff out the fearful ones it puts a lot of work into cooperating with Spring to get them out and where they can be helped.

Summer - More Fairest dabble with Summer for dreams of glory, or because they want to believe in Summer’s apolitical sales pitch, than ultimately stick with Summer. Those that do stay often serve as officers, as the Sun’s Tongue or the Arrayer of Distant Thunder, and as Court sorcerers. Fairest skilled in Contracts of Separation can make for surprising Jaegers, hounding their prey down more like a private investigator or a serial killer than a traditional hunter, but while striking this is fairly rare. Fairest who stick with Summer are those who are looking for its high ideals and are often among those rare Summer Courtiers who can competently articulate both those ideals and their pitfalls without falling prey to cynicism and bitterness.

Autumn - For those Fairest who hurt others to feel safe, Autumn is waiting. The Leaden Mirror can be attractive to young Fairest because it’s easy to perceive Autumn as atomized, defined by personal relationships rather than webs of political influence, but when the Fairest discovers those webs the existence of Option Two: Resort To Violence as an acceptable tool to the Ashen Court is perversely reassuring rather than threatening. The image of the Fairest as a witch, tempting and threatening, clings to them in Autumn but it’s honestly not their most common role; Autumn employs its Fairest as rumor-mongers, the Other Woman who seems a little too familiar with your husband, therapists & counselors, oneiromancers, and ambassadors to Hedge communities. The work Autumn does is harsh on Clarity, and Fairest are especially vulnerable to that harshness, but if the Court invests the time in helping its Fairest members, the self-awareness and self-confidence it offers can be a godsend that no other Court can give them.

Winter - As the Court which is actually selling what Fairest think Autumn has - to wit, the ability to simply say “no” to all social interactions with no justification required - Winter has a strong undercurrent of Fairest membership at all tiers of its power. Fairest often end up directly involved in Winter’s money-making enterprises, and flourish as Squires and Armigers with their fingers on the pulse of the Court’s morale. Winter’s hands-off approach displays a tremendous amount of trust in its Fairest from their perspective, and the demeanor of the Coldest Court - Winter’s indifferent equality - has a potent, merciless appeal. The trap of drowning in Sorrow sucks more than a few Fairest under, but if their peers can be there for them there’s always a way back out.

This Is Not A Pipe - Fairest And Lost’s Themes

My many thanks to Izzie M for her extensive help on this section. I’m not sure I’d have been able to grapple it down, emotionally or intellectually, otherwise.

Fairest go through some intense shit, and the shit they go through can never fully be addressed, never fully be recovered from. It’s no mistake that Fairest, like Wizened, are among those Lost likely to never fully gain resolution with or from their Keeper, and this is because they embody the dark truth that no matter how much progress you make, how much you heal, your trauma has changed who you are as a person and you will be dealing with it until you die. But, as alluded to extensively above in the discussion of Fairest and gender, Fairest also embody the way in which society will attempt to stamp you, mold you, turn you into a product to be consumed or an archetype to be placed into its churning machine, and its attempts to reshape who and what you are and can be are, in themselves, a form of trauma and abuse.

Fairest deal a lot in expectations. They’re expected to be perfect victims, they’re expected to be happy (because they’re beautiful and attractive, because they can front as Doing Okay, because they have a form of access to ‘normal’ society), they’re expected to want romance and sex (since everyone else wants those things out of them), to perform emotional labor, to be available, intimate, understanding, to keep up appearances. Fairest escape the chains of their Keeper only to be clapped in the chains that extend into the eyes and minds of their peers, and they cannot move without hearing the clink of them.

Fairest are primed to represent victims of ongoing emotional abuse and neglect; sex slaves and victims of child abuse might find themselves in Fairest, as might husbands or wives of abusive partners (and boy, re-living my bullshit there was a bonus prize I didn’t want to receive for writing this article), children pushed to over-achieve (here overlapping with Elemental) until they break, pastor’s daughters and cult kids (here overlapping with Beast), and others. However, Fairest also hit their thematic stride when talking about trauma from a society that will not give you an exit. A trans person is first punished by society for “failing” to perform their assigned gender, then made to perform their new one to expectations that they cannot set, do not control, and do not consent to; such a person might easily be Fairest, as might a man breaking under the expectations of Maleness, a college student losing their mind in finals week with no one to help, or even more ‘ordinary’ sex workers expected to perform emotional and physical labor for a society that rewards their work with violence and dehumanization.

Fairest are people with complex internal worlds and they damn well know it, but the temptations to let others define them are numerous; society promises all manner of rewards for being who and what it wants you to be, for wanting the things it tells you to want, for being the kind of person who wants and does those things. To be Fairest is to know at any time you can start faking it and receive those rewards insofar as they’re actually on the table, but it is also to know, every second of every day that you’re performing that role, that it is fake. If you can’t find a community with which you can be genuine...well. You can always get more hurt, and in this way Fairest also bring another theme of Lost into focus: that the Lost owe compassion and understanding to their fellow victims, because failure to care can only hurt both them and everyone in their blast zone.

Feet Pics For Legos - Coping As A Fairest

Fairest are among those Lost who are most concerned with their day-to-day social interactions and safety rather than their immediate, very physical environmental safety. They are perhaps the Seeming most likely to live in a group setting (in an apartment with roommates or romantic partners, in a house shared between multiple households, splitting the bills in a condo, with their parents), and are definitely the Seeming most comfortable with the idea of living with mortals who aren’t ensorcelled. Indeed, Fairest don’t tend to do well living alone; even a Fairest who wants or needs a private place to be, choosing to keep a home in which others cannot lay a claim, will likely crash at friends’ places, sleep over at the Freehold commons on some pretext or another, stay the night with a lover, or otherwise have a place to flop down while surrounded by other people. Having other people - their greatest reality check - around the place helps keep the Fairest centered in the real reality, better able to pick apart the mortal from the Wyrd from their own unrelated hallucinations, and a Fairest who is isolated - or who is permitted to isolate herself - quickly begins to dissociate and may soon be incapable of caring for herself until someone can get her back into the present.

Those invited over as guests to a Fairest’s home may note a lot of concern for those she lives with. She likely schedules the event well in advance, is clear about the boundaries of those she lives with (”That’s Brenda’s room, the door stays shut.”) and in general treats her communal home with a lot of respect and love. Respecting these boundaries and in turn having her own respected is very validating for the Fairest and is vital to be able to feel safe and at ease in her own home, and impressing their importance on guests further reinforces that this is, as it were, her doughnut. While not dismissive of their own literal physical safety per se, a Fairest’s anxieties rarely center around her body being violently attacked by strangers. For those that do have such anxieties, they may choose to solve that problem by simple expedient of rooming or living with someone large and scary.

Another detail of note which is touched on in Winter Masques is that Fairest tend to seek out life’s little pleasures. Though they are not necessarily wealthier than other Lost, how a Fairest chooses to spend her money tends to follow particular patterns. Rare is the Fairest who doesn’t have clothing they like, a phone that works, a wallet or purse that can actually hold all of their stuff, and in this regard most Fairest without a special interest in fashion as a hobby in and of itself will have an aesthetic that is self-expressive but serviceable and hard-wearing, but any place the Fairest haunts, frequents, or lives in will get little touches everywhere. Fairest spend the little bits of extra money for good toilet paper, soft soaps that won’t hurt the skin, good shower supplies, high-quality razors, boots that won’t wear through - and they spend their serious money on their hobbies and preferences. A Fairest with a passion for cooking scrimps and saves to get a fully-stocked kitchen; a Fairest who likes building and connecting invests in Legos or Hot Wheels and creates elaborate environments for them. A gamer Fairest has headphones that can vibrate your constipation away and a fiber optic connection to ensure that lag will not stand between her and your doom. The reasons for this are manifold, and Lost’s canon writing suggests that Fairest seek pleasure to alleviate a desire to return to Arcadia. This is, to put it mildly, a stupid assertion; rather, the Fairest provides her own pleasures in part because it is one of the most emotionally clear ways to lick the doughnut, and in part because it reminds her that she can be happy under her own power, can seek pleasure, stimulation, engagement, without placing herself at another’s mercy - ironically making it easier to go out every day and do exactly that as a member of her various societies.

As a Fairest settles in she tends to look for “her” people, and quite often they’re good at compartmentalizing this, wearing different hats and having different feelings about those hats without feeling fake or distressed about the bare fact of that. She’ll have her personal friends and family, like her housemates, her girlfriend, maybe her mortal family, her neighbors, and then folks like her Motley (which are like her personal friends and family, but In The Know), her fellow Fairest and the Freehold broadly, her work friends and fellow hobbyists. A Fairest who does, say, sex work, thinks of herself as a Sex Worker and understands herself in the context of that broader social group. It can be a lot! Many Lost barely have a handle on being a member of both the Freehold and a Court, and the way Fairest flit to and fro between many communities, slipping seamlessly from one role to another, can be exhausting to watch - but by doing so the Fairest also builds bonds between those communities, highlights their common needs and interests, draws them together over their similarities and strengths. Darklings and Wizened get a lot of the work on the ground done, but it’s often a Fairest in the role of whistleblower, figurehead, and champion all at once.

After all, this, too, is her doughnut.

Example Fairest - Clara Belltower, Spring Playmate

Clara Belltower is a mime.

Well, no, not exactly. Clara Belltower is a self-employed porn actress, erotic script writer, and director, whose primary thing is mimes, clowns, and more broadly circuses and performance venues. She came back from Arcadia eight years back fleeing life as her Keeper’s Stepford Wife, and ran face-first into the money issues that haunt the Lost in general. What started out as a practical choice in new career - and an attempt to find and express an identity not created for her by her abuser - became a creative passion that has stayed strong with Clara and propelled her to status in the Spring Court, which retains her keen eye for decoration, direction, and theatricality in service to its high rituals and revels. Clara’s livestreams and online presence are also a convenient avenue for the Freehold to launder its less legal revenue streams, which has endeared Spring’s “silent siren” to the Winter Court and cemented her as a mover and shaker.

Clara’s ambitions reach beyond erotic miming, as talented as she is at both creating and purveying such. She has her eyes on four different strip clubs in Freehold territory alone whose owners and operators need to fucking go, and she wants Winter’s help making it happen; further, she wants the Freehold to take over operation of those establishments for the benefit of the workers. Clara’s vision is popular in Spring and has its supporters in Summer too, but the Declining Seasons have been cool on the concept, citing a need to maintain subtlety and avoid entanglements with the mortal world that might invite the eye of, say, the IRS - or mire the Freehold in a protracted war with local police departments. Clara’s passion burns with a righteous simplicity, envisioning a Freehold that is active in improving the city around it - if the cops want to throw down, bring it on! Her influence over Winter means the Coldest Court cannot simply dismiss her desires, but neither is it willing to go to war. Something is going to have to give, soon.

This concludes the Fairest portion of the article. Some additional thoughts on Seeming follow.

Bombing Your Own Position - Choosing Your Seeming

So it’s been six articles and I’ve talked about the ways various Seemings can represent responses to the things which traumatize us; neurodivergences for which society abuses us, the machinery of capitalism, violence, prison, and more. But how do you go about choosing your character’s Seeming? The obvious choice is to make a character that puts a lot of yourself at the table; to seek out a Seeming that reflects your own traumas, your own issues, your own anxieties and struggles, and then grapple with them in this fictional context. But RPGs can be an emotionally challenging medium, and you may well not want to deal with your own bullshit during your magic trauma fairy game. That’s valid!

Now, the second obvious piece of advice is to think about your proposed character’s themes and traumas and then select a Seeming from there, but this can get complicated. Many Lost players feel as if they need two Seemings, and to those players I say: no the fuck you do not. But it is true that people are messy and do not fully resolve, that the broad spectrum of the world of sorrow and loss is not easy to fit into 6 discrete categories whose creation was often managed by, not to keep repeating this point, fucking Nazis. I have found in my experience that it can be helpful, when you’re torn between two Seemings or you have a character you’re sure is this Seeming even though they look like or could be that one, to ask yourself why the character is not the other option. Why is this alluring and sensual Darkling not a Fairest, what makes this brutal and violent Wizened not an Ogre? This question naturally leads to others about their abuse and their reaction to it, and can start your momentum for writing your concept out.

As an addition, while I’ve spoken of various Seemings as being well-equipped to represent specific traumas, they don’t own those traumas. Elementals are metaphorically autistic, but there’s nothing stopping you from running an autistic Fairest or an autistic Beast instead. Rather, those Seemings outlined as being “for” or “about” certain traumas are those whose selection will make those traumas thematically central, cause you to return to them as a topic over and over by virtue of being who and what they are. Real people have complicated problems which intersect with one another, spawning new problems that are more strange than the sum of their parts, and it’s both valid and interesting to write your Lost that way - just keep in mind that it’ll still be complicated at the table too.

Van Helsing Hate Crimes - Seeming Politics

White Wolf spent a lot of time waffling back and forth on whether or not Seemings represent distinct cultural and political identities in a given Freehold, drifting towards ‘yes’ when the writers thought about the way Blessings and Curses create consistent, measurable differences between Lost of various Seemings, and towards ‘no’ generally whenever they were asked to actually outline a Lost society such as a sample Freehold or Entitlement. Some Entitlements are locked to specific Seemings, often times with little thought as to why, while other times Seeming-based power blocs are alluded to as worldbuilding elements (such as in Lords of Summer) without much in the way of supporting detail. Why should these things happen, when, how, what does the buildup of this violent fracture in a Freehold society look like?

On the whole, I have taken the stance in these articles and in my own worldbuilding that some amount of fantastical prejudice exists amongst the Lost, but that the systems of oppression have not taken root. Maybe it’s idealistic of me to view the Lost as unwilling or unable to produce internally racist power structures that create an underclass for the benefit of an appointed elite, but in general I feel as if Freeholds are too small, each individual member too precious by simple dint of being a living being in a physical body, for this kind of evil to flourish. That said, you may have also noticed that I identified two Seemings - Darklings and Fairest - as explicitly self-uniting and in some senses self-governing on the basis of common traumas that they often cannot fully explain to outsiders, and indeed community with people that understand your bullshit without you having to say it aloud - that is, those who share a Seeming with you - can be invaluable to all Lost. Ultimately, however, I want to advise against looking at Seemings the way that, say, Vampire: the Requiem looks at Clans, and instead to treat them as reactions to trauma rather than a kind of alternate racial identity.

Next up: So You Need To Write A Fetch

[obeiii-mee]

Hi! Im new to your page and i love your writing 💕 i have a request for demon brothers headcanons on how they treat MC after realizing they get anxiety from things like yelling/loud abrupt noises/ things like that? For example, they flinch, get quiet, or start fidgeting? Thank you!!!

Aww, thank you so much. That means a lot to me and I’m really glad you like my writing considering I have such a chaotic style lmao. Also, welcome to this mess of a blog. We give off ‘cult’ vibes but at least we have hot, fictional demons to make up for that.This was super sweet because I know for a fact every single one of them would be very understanding of MC’s anxiety of anything.

Enjoy!

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The Brothers with an MC that gets anxiety from loud/abrupt noises:

Lucifer:

-He may not get anxiety from it, but Lucifer definitely prefers a quiet atmosphere/environment where he can focus on his work

-Which makes living with his brothers a living nightmare because they don’t have the capability to shut the fuck up

-That being said, he catches on rather quickly that you do not feel comfortable around loud noises in general

-There’s a limit to what he can do but every time you feel like you need a bit of peace and quiet, know that you are more than welcomed into his office at any time of the day. Even if he isn’t there

-He definitely prioritises your mental as well as your physical well being seeing as living with demons can have a massive effect on your sanity

-He’s not judgemental about it either because, while he doesn’t understand why loud noises may cause you to be so anxious, he understands that humans are built differently to demons

-Lucifer has no chill at times and will tell all of his brothers off every time they make a big scene, whether in public or private

-He can be a tad overprotective at times but he means really well, especially if he sees you’ve gotten oddly silent for the past few minutes or has caught wind of you fidgeting during dinner

-I don’t know how much I stressed so far about the observation skills this man has but I will keep doing, he can spot you flinching at loud noises from a mile away

Mammon:

-I believe that he can read people really well and can recognise when a person is feeling a certain way

-But he’s still a complete dumbass so he might still miss a few clues hidden in your mannerisms

-Like, he realises you’re uncomfortable but he doesn’t understand the degree of it or why it exists

-You’ll have to be blunt about it and tell him about your deal with loud noises because otherwise he will be stressing about it for weeks on end

-Dating him as a result of your anxiety over loud noises can prove to be...difficult

-He’s a very boisterous and obnoxious being, everytime a particular emotion of his flares up, he gets significantly noisier

-Whenever he enters the room you happen to be in, you’re forced to cover your ears and flinch because he has a way of announcing his presence

-But he tries so incredibly hard to act calmer around you and he so hates it when he fails to do so because he knows how uncomfortable you get as a result of him screaming like an idiot

-His brothers usually blame him when you start fidgeting because they assume he’s the cause of your rising anxiety and he started to believe it as well

-He sees that look on your face and he is just gutted

-He is ready to get on his knees and start apologising profusely until you forgive him for being such a noisy bastard

-The times other things/people are the cause of you going weirdly quiet, he will use his threatening tactics

-“Listen ‘ere, you’re makin’ my human uncomfortable so if you don’t shut the fuck up, I won’t let you see the light of day again. Do ya hear me?!?!”

-He says to the godfather clock when the sound of it striking midnight startled you

Levi:

-He 100% understands

-He hates loud noises as well and they usually make him scamper back to his room lol a rat in hiding

-Levi is slightly more immune to them however seeing as his brothers do have a habit of raising their voices all the time

-But do not worry, human, for he will protect his Henry from the annoying sounds people in general make at the cost of his life

-Take shelter in his room, please

-He loves having you in there and usually you only have the noise of video games in the background

-If you’re there and an anime he’s watching is getting too loud, he will turn it down for you ahead of time

-Sometimes, he can be as noisy as his brothers, especially when he rages at one of his games

-Bu he’s so quick to shut up once he realises you’re there

-And then, like Mammon, would start apologising for being not only an ugly otaku but an obnoxious one at that

-So y’all end up comforting and cuddling each other because.....uh....mutual hatred for loud things?

-Also, he would decapitate his brothers for you if they crossed a line (like he’s not really a Yandere but he’s a demon with demonic instincts to protect I guess)

Satan:

-Much like his father eldest brother, Satan also prefers silence in general

-After all, it’s a lot easier to read when his brothers aren’t there to muck about the place and make too much noise

-Humans are very different to demons, especially psychologically speaking and he understand that

-That’s why he doesn’t question it when you follow him into the library to seek refugee from his siblings

-If anything, he’s rather happy he gets to spend some time with you so the two of you sit in silence, each of you doing your own separate thing

-He knows if something is bothering you again, he can probably notice you suddenly start fidgeting in public

-He’s very cautious with you when you are in this state as he deems you are at your most vulnerable

-One time, a teacher at RAD raised his voice too high while scolding you for not paying attention and that earned an involuntary flinch from you

-That guy was officially on Satan’s shit list from then on, just so ya know

-Overall, he’s very sweet and patient with you and absolutely does not mind spending an entire day with you indoors away from loud noises

Asmo:

-He has no problem with loud noises whatsoever

-If anything, he loves being in crowded public places like The Fall, since partying and socialising is one of his many talents

-Not to mention, he’s so used to own family being so loud it just doesn’t affect him that much

-However, when you first arrived and he noticed just how badly you reacted to loud noises, he started avoiding things like clubbing as if it were the plague every time he hanged out with you

-Asmo needs social contact but he is more than willing to spend time indoors with you if it makes you feel better

-Or going out shopping in a relatively quiet shopping centre

-I mean, getting his nails done with you by his side sounds absolutely amazing to him

-So as much as he loves making noises and spending time in rowdy places, he’s always going to make an exception with you

-Always

Beel:

-Beel is unbothered by noise

-Sure, he does like it better when his brothers aren’t fighting and things are peaceful around the house

-But, he’s not fazed by yelling, loud music, heavy things falling and thudding against the ground etc.

-He picks up on your anxiety riddled gestures the first time Lucifer has a go at his brothers in front of you

-Because you started fidgeting like crazy and in that moment he was the only one that saw it

-So Beel grabbed your hand and led you outside of the room and Lucifer was so caught up in the moment he didn’t even realise it

-Probably, maybe he just let it go

-Basically, Beel decides that he shall protect you, the tiny human in comparison with him, from any loud noises that might startle you

-He will do it, do not test him

-One time, Mammon was screaming because he was chased by the witches and it made you flinch enough for Beel to see

-A couple hours later, Mammon disappears completely and shows up at your door, looking absolutely traumatised but genuinely apologetic and says sorry

-Sometimes people forget Beel is a demon

Belphie:

-I’m gonna make a wild assumption and presume that if you are vulnerable to loud noises, you are very likely a light sleeper

-If that is the case, (apologies if you’re not) then Belphie would be very quick to notice because a lot of shit goes down at night time and most of the time, it’s loud

-Belphie doesn’t have a problem with it, he can sleep through anything, even his brothers and especially Lucifer

-But he definitely notices if you aren’t cuddled up to him any more, even if he was asleep, because you sat up in bed suddenly at a random noise at 3am

-Note: That was Asmo sneaking back into the house trying to be as quite as possible but tripping and breaking a window

-“You’ll have to get used to that. My brothers are idiots, they don’t know when to be silent.”

-He prefers quiet places like the attic so he can actually sleep, but again, could do so either way so it doesn’t matter to him

-But he is going to be...let’s say ...upset.... if you were to wake up from a nap session because of someone something

-“Make one more sound and I’ll rip your tongue out.”

-Even when you aren’t napping, he gets very angry when people get unnecessarily loud, especially with you reaction

-But that just gives him an opportunity to bring you to the attic or something so the two of you can actually chill by yourselves for a chance

-Beel is invited obviously, but Belphie is just as happy to be left by himself with you

-Ironic how much his feelings for you have changed, huh?

————————————

So I really finished this by the end of the week. Hope this is actually some good because I spent all of my brain cells on an another giant request I’m working and the rest were used to write this. Thank you for sending me requests though guys! Now every time I get bored I can just answer your asks. Have a nice Monday!

Al~

[wickednerdery]

Title: Save a Mobius, Ride a Loki Author: @wickednerdery Fandom: Loki, Rick & Morty Pairing/character: Loki & Mobius, Rick & Morty Rating: FRM Summary: “Mobius, no!!” Notes: This is a continuation of The Great Loki and something that’s been stuck in my head since before Loki premiered I’ve been dying to write, so I have. Knowledge of Rick & Morty is helpful, but not required. This story has adult content, language, and violence. For length, etc, there’s a Read More:

Loki scans the desert, wary he’s ended up where he began; where the TVA first collected him. The whinnying of horses on the wind and outline of an American frontier town in the distance indicates this is unlikely, which is a relief. He takes a few steps, then stops and turns back. “What are you doing?”

Mobius sighs as he fusses with the TemPad. “Trying to figure out when and where we are.” He stumbles through the sand as he attempts to keep up with the god’s long strides. “There’s something wrong with the specs, the settings maybe…” Then a thought blooms in the back of his mind, compels him to ask. “You didn’t do anything to it, right?”

“Of course not.”

“Loki…” It’s gentle warning, reminder. The TVA isn’t done with him, he’ll not simply let Loki wander off.

The tone, implication of it, offends. “I didn’t do anything to your blasted device!” He storms off with his own suspicion and settles under a Joshua tree to examine the gun he lifted from the old man. 

Mobius plops beside him, undoing tie as the god shifts to share the shade. “I’m sorry I accused, it’s just…” He’s Loki.

Loki ignores in favor of moving on. “I think the portal gun moves across time and space. We’re in another dimension entirely, see?” He shows the tiny dials, settings, on the device. “Your TemPad won’t work, because it doesn’t exist here.”

If the TemPad doesn’t exist, then reason stands that the TVA doesn’t either and the thought is mind-blowing - terrifying and exciting both. Mobius lived his life with the understanding that the TVA, the Time-Keepers, existed everywhere and (in a way) at every time, and yet...He examines the gun for himself, then hands it back. “I suppose that makes sense.”

“Enough exposition for the readers then?”

“I guess so, I mean, we don’t want to bog them down in the...”

“Talky talky talky.” They say in unison. 

“So...how do we figure out where we are then?”

“I’ve a thought.” Loki gets up, starts in the direction of the town, with Mobius quick to catch up. As they carry on he waves hand to change their clothing according to what he suspects will be most appropriate.

“Did you just change my clothes?”

“Of course, how else did you expect us to fit in?”

“No, it’s nice…” The agent looks over the dark shirt, cowboy boots, before taking off the hat to examine. “Impressive...Just...why am I all in black?”

“Because I’m in white.”

“Yeah...But why are you in white and then, you know, I’m in black?”

“Maybe I want to change things up? Think that’s possible? ” It’s said sarcastically, but Loki himself isn’t sure it’s not true. 

Mobius smiles. “If anyone could do it, it’d be you.” 

When they arrive the god scans the rough wood buildings, the rougher looking citizens that stroll and spit in the streets, with growing smile. This is a place he can enjoy, regardless of where or when it is. Eyes follow a woman in threadbare silk, breasts nearly out, before they find the double-gun holster of her companion.

"What you grinnin’ at, Saddle-Bum?” When Loki laughs the man grows enraged, pulls his gun.

Mobius curses and scrambles as chaos breaks out, just managing to push the woman out of the way of the gunfire. He tucks them behind a pile of barrels that spill liquor as bullets fly. “Stay down.” As the dust settles he glances out. “Loki?” He’s not cross, only worried.

The god only smiles, triumphant over the local bleeding out on his back. “Ah, there you are, Mobius!” That’s a relief.

The woman begins to scream. “Oh my god! You shot the sheriff!!”

“But I did not shoot the deputy.” Loki tips his hat with a grin.

He should be angry, scared, but Mobius isn’t. Heart pounds not with fear, but at the possibilities. It’s one thing to study Loki, to interview and interact with him under controlled circumstances, but this is something entirely different. They’re off the proverbial reservation. This is a wild Loki and it’s thrilling. “This is crazy…” The corners of his lips lift in spite of himself as men drag the body away. “Lucky no one liked that sheriff.”

“Funny how often that happens.” Loki chuckles. “Shall we find a room then?”

“Two.”

“Mobius, really, I thought you would know better. If two beings are in this sort of scenario, there will only be one room and one bed available.”

"Come on, you really think the...powers that be are gonna pull that old trope out?”

Loki only chuckles as he swings saloon doors wide and cheers. “Your new sheriff is here!” The gunslingers, prospectors, and whores all turn and stare. Just stare. The god drops hands to hips, but smile remains. “Tough crowd.” He huffs his laugh, carries on to the bar. “May we have two glasses of your finest and two rooms please?”

“Sorry, just got the one available.”

“On, come on, really?” The agent is incredulous. “Did Loki put you up to this?”

The bartend and proprietor smirks. “You want the room or not?”

“The one room will do just fine, thank you,” Loki smiles out before grabbing the whole bottle rather than poured glass and heading towards a cards game. “Are you coming or not?”

It takes a moment to realize the saloon owner had no expectation of getting paid now, that Mobius was free to go to the table if he wished. He did and he did, settling beside Loki. “You know how to play this game?”

“I know how to play many games, from many different lands. Do you know how to play?”

“I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it.” Not more than a few hands later he’s nearly all the pot to himself.

The god is thoroughly impressed. “You lied.” He smiles.

“Ahhh, what is a lie, anyway?” Mobius smiles back. “Just a...” He shrugs. “Reinterpretation of the truth.”

“You get that from your space lizard employers?”

“Nope.” He sets another winning hand on the table. “I got that from you.”

“Yer a cheat,” a player grumbles. “A liar and a cheat.” Mobius prepares to defend himself when the player turns to Loki. “And a lousy sheriff.” The god only laughs before the man grabs his wrist, digs into Loki’s jacket pocket, and pulls out an ace.

Guns cock in the men’s direction; one sighs, the other grins madly. 

“Loki, you weren’t even winning!” Mobius decries.

“Well I would have been, if you weren’t so good!” 

“Oh, so this is my fault?”

“Not completely.”

“Not remotely!”  The two men begin to devolve themselves into a shouting match, talking over each other as they plot an escape. “Are you ready?!”

“As I’ll ever be!”

“Good!”

“Great!”

Loki blasts the poker player holding his wrist along with two other gunslingers while Mobius socks the man beside him in the nose. It quickly escalates, spreads across the saloon like a tornado that draws in all manner of people around it. Chairs and bullets and glasses fly through the air. Mirrors and tables shatter, people scream, and through it all the god revels...and so does the agent. Until, that is, another gun fires from outside...Fast, futuristic, and deadly so both man and god hit the floor lest they get hit.

“I know you’re in there you portal gun stealing fuckers!” Rick rages from within his ship. It isn’t simply that they took his gun - they weren’t the first and he’d many - it was that he hadn’t discovered the theft soon enough. It was the hit to his ego. “Come out here now and maybe, maybe, I won’t squanch your ass!”

“Jesus, Rick, relax.” Morty doesn’t know why he bothers as his grandfather turns to berate him instead.

Loki pops up, begins to pull magic into his hands as Mobius braces on overturned table to stand. “Hide in the rafters” 

“The rafters?” Mobius looks up as Loki forms him an armored vest as precaution. “Are you kidding me? What in our history together makes you think I’m capable of something like that?”

“Then hide elsewhere, just let me handle the old man.” Loki gives overconfident wink.

Mobius sighs...This is it, this is how he dies… “I’ve a better idea.” He storms past Loki, strolls out into the street where the other two are still arguing in their ship.

“Mobius no!” Loki gives chase.

As you can see, Loki’s got no trouble slipping into new, chaotic, worlds and having a blast while Mobius takes a bit longer to find his footing - this may change as Mobius continues to travel and finds his own way of making things work. Because the rascals couldn’t manage to finish their cowboy tale in one go, there will be at least one more piece in this Wild West world...Hope y’all don’t mind, haha! (”Saddle-Bum” is an old west phrase meaning drifter.)

All gifs made found on Google, combined by me, credit goes to whoever their OG makers are!

Those who may read: @holykryptonitekitten @lady-crowned-with-stars @ultrarebelheart @chibiyanai @dreamsofapiratelife @biiskuitx @delightfulheartdream @antoniostarshadow13 @mobiusbmobius​@zippythewondersquirrel ...If you wish to be tagged in future pieces, please let me know!

[readingtherooms]

Vanilla

Summary: After a long day, you just want to lay down on the couch. Unfortunately, our resident genius got there first. 

Pairings: spencer reid x fem!reader

Requested: nope!! just me being in love w baby spence

Warnings: fluff, so much fluff. 

Word Count: 1568

A/N: hey guys! sorry this is a little all over the place, but i thought it was cute. I wrote this with season 1 in mind, but it’s really up for interpretation. I don't currently have a taglist but I think i'm going to start one so let me know if you want to me on it! The moodboard below was made by me however the images are not mine!

It’s almost midnight, and the team is flying back to DC from Seattle. The case had ended well. (Y/n) should be relieved. She wasn’t. She had fought with her brother right before she left, and going home means she’s going to have to talk about it.

 “I’ve never been good at that. Talking. I much rather just hug it out, I've always been tactile”, she explains to JJ as she gets out of the car. 

Boarding the jet, everyone is welcomed by fluorescent lighting and the overwhelming essence of day old coffee. Spencer quickly makes himself at home on the couch, as Hotch and Gideon settle into a game of cards. (Y/n) tries to read, but after twenty minutes of staring at the same page, lost in her own head, she debates giving sleep a shot. She glances over at Spencer. He’s awake. 

“Is there any hope of me convincing you to give up the couch”, she mumbles as she sits down across from her best friend

“Is there any hope of me convincing you to come to the Jacques Delille convention with me on Saturday?” He quickly responded. (Y/n) sighed - her and Spencer had been friends at CalTech, long before she got the job with the BAU. Over the years, she grew quite fond of the eclectic conventions he would drag her to. She loved listening to Spencer go on his signature tangents, it gave her a chance to just listen. Not worry about being awkward or saying the wrong thing, like she did around most people. With Spencer, all she had to do was listen, and she loved it. Unfortunately, she was going to be spending her Saturday in a much less pleasant manner. 

“I already told you, I have to go to brunch with my brother” she groaned. 

He chuckled, “Well then I’m not moving”. 

“You know what, screw it” she thought to herself. She was tired, she kept getting caught up in her thoughts, and if she was being completely honest with herself, she was in desperate need of physical affection. 

“You don’t need to move” she stated bluntly.

“Wait, what?” Spencer responded, not even attempting to hide the surprise in his voice. He didn’t know (y/n) to go down without a fight.

“But you can’t stop me from laying on the couch” she countered. He responded only with a slight tilt of his head, and a look of confusion. (Y/n) stood up and walked over to where he had propped himself up. 

“Can I lay on you?” she half-whispered, her confidence starting to falter. 

“W-What?” he looked up at her with bewilderment in his eyes.

“Nevermind, it was a stupid idea.” She said, barely loud enough for him to hear. The fleeting confidence she had only moments ago, had completely drained out of her. She turned to walk towards the bathroom, attempting to escape the situation.

“Wait” he stopped her, despite still being perplexed by what she had just asked. “You can, uh, lay on me - if that's, uh, what you want.”  He clears his throat. 

“Are you sure?” (Y/n) responds, equally as flustered. He nods in response. 

After an uncomfortably long pause, she begins to lower herself onto the tan leather, leaning back as she does so. 

The next three minutes were chaotic to say the least, with neither of them not knowing exactly what to do. However, after those three, awkward, giggle filled minutes, (y/n) found herself lying between Spencer's legs, her head gently resting on his chest. She knew he wasn't always great with physical affection, she kept asking him if he was comfortable. He, in return, continued to reaffirm that he was, in fact, comfortable. 

A few more minutes went by, and soon (y/n) felt herself drift asleep, lulled by the soft fabric of his cardigan, and the gentle movements of his breath. 

Spencer, in contrast, was anything but peaceful. 

This just isn't the kind of thing that happened to him. Pretty girls don't just want to lay on him. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. He had just about convinced himself that this was a dream, when (y/n) shifted slightly, snapping him back into reality. 

He was suddenly very conscious of his arms. He had them resting lightly over her shoulder blades, in a position which he originally thought to feel natural. Doubt started to wash over him, he had never really done this before. Despite Derek's mocking, he wasn't actually a virgin, but it was in that moment that he realized he had never actually cuddled before. What if his arms were in the wrong place? What if (y/n) is judging him? Wishing she had never asked to lay on him? 

He lifted his right arm off of (y/n), and managed to pull his cell phone out of his pocket without too much movement. He really didn't want to do this, but he honestly couldn't think of a better alternative. He cursed himself internally, and reluctantly opened his phone, tapping on his second contact - “Derek Morgan”

Spencer : Derek, please turn around. Do not make a scene. 

Spencer sees Derek's head whip around as he reads the message, eyes widening when he notices (y/n). Despite being fairly certain that she was asleep, Spencer shifts his arm so that his phone was out of her line of sight. 

Derek : MY MAN!!!!!

Spencer : Don’t be dramatic, I need help. 

Derek : Dramatic?! Help?! Man you’ve liked this girl since COLLEGE 

Spencer : Trust me, I know. However, what I don't know is how to do this.

Derek : Do what? Cuddle?

Spencer : Yes, where do I put my arms?

Derek : Dude, you just gotta be natural

Spencer : That is completely unhelpful. Are you aware who you are talking to? Yesterday you watched me walk into a door. 

Derek : Yes, and I got it on video. Alright I guess I’m going to have to coach you through this. 

Spencer : Yes please. 

Derek : You owe me

Derek : Okay, take your right hand, and set it right above her waist

Spencer : My right or your right?

Derek : The hand with your phone in it

Derek : Now, your left hand, set it parallel to your right hand

Spencer : Does this look right? 

Derek : You’re doing great loverboy, are you finally gonna ask her out? 

Spencer : Maybe. 

Derek leaned over the back of his seat, clearly taking a photo. Spencer furrowed his brow. 

Spencer : Why did you take a photo of us?

Derek : Penelope. 

Spencer chuckled to himself lightly. He felt much more at ease than he had five minutes ago. Scanning the jet, he noticed that Derek had gone back to staring out the window. Everything seemed at ease. Hotch was facing away from Spencer, with a passed out Gideon across from him. JJ and Elle were both sleeping across from Derek, JJ lying on the brunette’s shoulder. 

Then there was (y/n). She was so peaceful as she slept, Spencer found himself entranced by her. He tucked back a strand of hair that fell onto her nose, and he felt her hum lightly with contentment. She smelt like vanilla, she always has. It was more than just perfume though, she must use vanilla body wash, shampoo as well. Is it possible she’s been using the same body wash since college? 

That is how Spencer Reid fell asleep that night, with (y/n) in his arms, thinking about the smell of vanilla.

-

Two hours later, Spencer’s eyes slowly started to crack open. (Y/n) was awake, nestled into the crook of his neck. 

“Hey sleepyhead” she teased. She received only an incomprehensible mumble in return. She looked at her watch, 4 AM. 

“We’re going to land in about a half hour, so I’m going to untangle myself and hopefully avoid a disapproving look from Hotch” she whispered in his ear. She placed a kiss on his forehead, before leaving the couch and returning to her original chair. 

The kiss was so soft, so light, that Spencer wasn’t even sure that it was real. The morning light was just beginning to spill through the small jet windows, and he waited for his eyes to adjust, before escaping to the bathroom. He was desperately trying to process what had occured in the past few hours. His mind was flooded with questions. 

Does this mean she likes me like I like her? 

Did she just need the comfort of a friend?

Is Derek going to make a big deal out of this?

IS THIS a big deal?

Hotch was awake, was he watching us? Does he care?

How does she always smell like Vanilla?

He finally realized that he would never find answers to all these questions standing in the jet bathroom. He fixes his hair, and steps back outside. 

“Hey (y/n)?”

“What’s up Spence?” 

“How do you always smell like vanilla?”

(Y/n)'s face lit up, giggling at his question. Suddenly, all the questions in Spencer’s brain felt like they were melting away. 

“Everything’s going to be okay” he thought to himself.

Everything is going to be okay because (y/n) is sitting in front of me

She’s smiling 

That smile could grow roses in the desert. 

Everything is going to be okay because she’s sitting in front of me

She’s smiling 

She’s smiling and she smells like vanilla

Oh, how I love vanilla. 

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

Crepes

Warnings: none

Tags: fluff, family au, soft daddy Levi

Pairings: Levi Ackerman/ Reader, Implied Jeankasa

Summary: Levi's very energetic chaotic kids like to play with Jean and Eren from time to time

~This was requested by @clara-geekhime

"Daddy! What are you doing there?"

"I want a piggy ride!"

The piercing little screams of the jumping toddlers made Levi's head throb in utter pain. A buzzing numbness overtakes his whole being as the tries to flip the thin crepe successfully inside the hot pan. He has assigned himself to make dinner for tonight, while you're out, strolling the nearby mall with Mikasa in search of baby products for her unborn growing little human being.

With a huff that blows some dark strands away from his eyes he relaxes his tense shoulders for no more than a moment. His eyes wander back and forth in despairate need not to burn the crepe -he'd be damned of he has to make more- and all around the bright lit kitchen, where his children are currently stomping. He relaxes at the image of two of them that are patiently waiting with their tiny hands on the table, silently blowing air on each other in an attempt to play without disturbing him. And he definitely wishes the other two were as calm as them.

But of course, Kuchel and Kurt are restless. They never stop wrestling or poking their siblings sides and cheeks, screaming obnoxiously loud and jumping from tile to tile, avoiding any line successfully.

"Where's mom I want to poo." John is batting his (e/c) eyes in his in the most respectful manner a four year old could ever master, making Levi almost let out a full blown laughter.

"Can you wait for me to finish cooking or should we go to the potty now?" Levi speaks in the sweetest voice possible while looking directly at his son. The abstractly sweet voice that exits the shy boy's mouth in confirmation to his latter statement drives Levi to turn off the stove and pull the two frying pans away from any remaining heat.

"Let's go kids."

An horde of dark haired sweethearts follow his lead with tiny steps down the hallway. Soft round features are adorned with beautiful expressionisms of admiration as they stare at their father. Excited, barely noticeable movements are made that emit shuffling sounds around the room while Levi sets the white colored potty down the tile floor of the bathroom and he can't help but chuckle. It always gets to him how these little people who have came out as a product of his love with you are able to look at him with such admiration and adoration in their young eyes.

Levi sits with his back against the closed bathroom door as he waits for John to finish with his session, watching as the three other kids plan on their next malicious way to convince you and him to buy them the toys they want. It makes him want to burst into loud obnoxious laughter, the fact that they remain unbeknownst to his ability to hear them.

"You can always ask." He admits, allowing some of the laughter that has bubbled in his chest to escape. "Mom and I would be really happy to buy any toy you want as long as you are nicely behaved."

In a movement he falls down on his knees to trap Kuchel into his embrace. The little girl cooes at the sudden feeling, quick to give in to her father's affectionate side. While her feathery cheek rubs against Levi's, much like a small kitten that purrs to the touch, Levi extends his arms to ruffle his sons' hair. These casual moments of affection and happiness are really shaping him into the world's most tender person that exists.

Once he has returned to the kitchen to finish his cooking the four little Ackermans decide to all sit on the kitchen table and watch him cook their favorite crepe fillings. He manages to take their orders, very seriously, with the occasional furrow of the brow when they speak, allowing them to play along this little game of restaurant he has just started. If the kids are occupied then he'll be fine cooking.

"Daddy, didn't you say your mommy never came back one day?" John requires, eyes almost watering as he looks up. And Levi almost drops the wooden cooking spoon to the floor upon the shock he receives.

"Mommy is not coming back?"

"What? Why is mommy never coming back?"

Once Kuchel beggins with her siren like crying, John follows in turn and Levi starts panicking. Chaos ensues to its extreme as the kids start jumping on their seats, panicking, screaming at eachother not letting him finish the potatoes he's currently frying.

"Brats, how is it you miss your mother when she's not home, every single time?"

His question goes answered and he's forced to close the stove once again as he tends to pick up each small kid in his lap, sitting them down in hopes of concentrating them in a single place. And just as he does the door bell rings, sending the kids to another wave of over expresed enthusiasm.

As he runs to the door, apron still on and hair messier than he'd ever choose to present himself with, the four little kids run after him, impatiently standing behind him at the door frame. Levi looks through the peephole and with a quick love he unlocks the door to reveal Jean and Eren to his toddlers, who jump once again in delight.

"Eren! Jean!" Their thin voices say in unison when they practically fall into the men's feet.

"Hey Levi, hey you guys! Aunty Mikasa and mommy are on their way."

Levi demands that the two males wash their hands and faces before they even think about touching his children, and both of them comply with no objections. They know him, one wrong hygiene move and he'll release the cleaning freak from the depths of his existence so for the sake of their own sanity they waste no time as they go to the bathroom.

Soon enough they are sat down the coffee table in the living room, or occasionally running around each kid, lifting them up in their arms and throwing them into the air. He takes a mental note on how those boys have grown into men for all the time he's known them, with sleek defined jaws and strong arms, harsh, bored eyes that didn't resemble the ones they used to have when they were younger. And to top everything off, Jean was becoming a new father, who needed Levi's help with anything he could, not that Levi was sure why he was indeed everyone's father figure.

Levi now shifts his attention to Kuchel who's brushing some shaggy hair away from her tiny face as she's walking towards him with wobbly steps. His chest wells up from unbearable happiness, legs working without his command to meet his daughter halfway and swoon her in his arms as if she weights as much as a feather. Her giggles can ring through everyone's ears, perfectly in sync with her brothers' screams of joy at the pirate roleplay game jeans and Eren are occupying them with. It's moments like these when he feels as if he should never have had a doubt for his abilities as a parent. His own luck of paternal figures haven't stripped him off of them, but if it weren't for you to assure him it'd be alright he wouldn't have warmed up on the idea, just yet, that he's the most amazing father that exists.

[atotalthrowawayaccount]

Aria T’Loak is Resistant to Indoctrination

I’ve been thinking about Aria T’Loak and the universe of Mass Effect a lot recently and one thing that always puzzled me was this: why have Cerberus throw Aria out of Omega? Wouldn’t it make more sense for the Reapers to just indoctrinate Aria and have her control Omega for them, thereby making it incredibly easy for Cerberus to get in and centralize without having to fight both her and the gangs/citizens of Omega? The games and lore make it very clear that whatever she says basically goes on the station, and she’s the strongest being on Omega, pound for pound. Not only that, she would do anything to take it back even if the station somehow DID get taken away from her.

So knowing all this, what if the Reapers had already tried to indoctrinate Aria to do their bidding in order to aid them in their destruction of the Milky Way species this cycle?  And what if Aria was incredibly resistant to indoctrination?

Per the Omega DLC, Aria states that “Cerberus controlling the Terminus Systems seriously bolsters their mobility. Since taking Omega, they’ve spread through the galaxy.” For the Reapers and their indoctrinated forces, taking over Omega, which is the unofficial capitol of that region, is huge for their war against the galaxy.  It allows them to have access to multiple relays, making it easy to travel and therefore they’re able to hinder resistance movements all over. Concurrently, this would result in it being easier for Reapers to take over. The coup also enabled for the Cerberus scientists to have an easy population to experiment Reaper tech on. Simply put, taking over Omega was huge in the war and the Cerberus troops were the Reapers’ way of securing that region. For a time.

But in the comic, Mass Effect: Invasion, and the Omega DLC, it’s very clear that it took a huge and costly monetary and militaristic effort in order to take over and maintain their regime there. And even once Cerberus had ‘ousted’ Aria, they couldn’t control the gangs or the people because, simply put, they aren’t Aria T’Loak. In fact, it’s very clearly stated by Anto in Invasion that the gangs only follow Aria, which makes them an uncontrollable and chaotic force during the Cerberus occupation. This, combined with their already thinned and stressed forces, had to have made Cerberus’ overall goals and time there much less effective than what it could have been.

Considering all this, not having Aria there actually makes it more difficult for the Reapers. Not only do they have to direct some of their indoctrinated human forces (in the form of Cerberus) to a section of the galaxy that isn’t really a part of the main war (thus stretching their forces thin as we see later on in Mass Effect 3), they also have to deal with rebelling aliens ON Omega. The Talons, Blue Suns, Blood Pack, Eclipse, and citizens all fight back against the Cerberus occupation, making the troops even more thinned out and inefficient.  Additionally it would have been much easier to have a leader, Aria, that the Omegan people and gangs could have ‘willingly’ united under to just simply aid Cerberus without a prolonged conflict.  But for some reason, they didn’t use Aria even though her portion of the galaxy was nearest to where the Reapers were. Maybe it’s not because they didn’t want to (it strategically would have made sense and the Reapers are clearly logically orientated) but rather because they couldn’t. At least, not in a timely manner.

However, I’m not suggesting that Aria is completely immune to indoctrination. No one is. Not the Illusive Man. Not the Leviathans. Not the Protheans. Not even Commander Shepard (if you believe that he/she was possibly indoctrinated towards the end of the game). But it’s possible some beings are much more RESISTANT to indoctrination based on a whole sort of factors. Strong will, intelligence, and mental fortitude would certainly make one more difficult to indoctrinate--or they would at least be aware of the fact that they were being indoctrinated.

Matriarch Benezia is a perfect example of this. She was ultimately indoctrinated by the Reapers (it probably was facilitated by the fact that she was helping Saren to begin with anyways) but had strong enough mental fortitude to be aware of it and even was able to sequester a part of her mind away from them.  Years of training as a Matriarch, and her natural mental abilities as an asari, made it difficult for even the ancient machines to truly control an asari Matriarch and Benezia was constantly fighting against the takeover of her mind.  So from even the first game, we can see that there are some beings, probably mostly asari matriarchs due to the reasons stated above, that are resistant to indoctrination.

Now let’s consider Aria T’Loak. We already know that Aria is an insanely powerful biotic, likely the most powerful in the game. She’s so powerful that her in-game abilities had to be tinkered with because she was clearing rooms on her own in the development of the Omega DLC.  We also know that she’s incredibly strong-willed, to say the least, and is probably a matriarch if we do the math (although I don’t think she’s 1000 years old but that’s another story). Her ability to have strong mental capacities is already assumed as she’s probably had to forcibly meld with others to get information and protect her mind at the same time. Finally, she wasn’t in a position where she was already susceptible and could easily be influenced towards helping the Reapers. Aria is shown to be paranoid, aggressive, intelligent, calculating, and cognizant of her surroundings. There would be no reason in her own daily routines to help the Reapers directly by opening her station to the Collectors or any other forces. Thus, considering all this and her own physiology, I would guess she’d be incredibly resistant to indoctrination and would probably catch on, at least to some extent, as to what was going on if they tried. I don’t think the Reapers could have indoctrinated her in an effective and timely manner for their purposes during this harvesting cycle.

Ultimately, I think this all comes down to time. Due to the Prothean’s heroic work, this cycle’s species were very close to beating (or at least hindering) the Reapers. Because of this, their harvesting of this cycle had to be expedited before we could figure out how to beat them once and for all; or at least make it easier for the next cycles to.  And even though they would have eventually indoctrinated Aria, it wouldn’t have been quick enough to make our defeat as total and devastating as they wished.

And thus, Aria T’Loak had to go. Cerberus was simply the method that the Reapers used to depose her, temporarily, as Omega’s ruler.