#guys you had no idea how much i wanted to diverge from their designs once i got to francis

[grantwilsonenjoyer]

the gutteral screams!!!

the (best?) WINNING TEAM of the 195XX peachyville bowling tournament!

this season is already growinf on me so fast guys 😭😭 im so excited to see where everyone takes their characters (and where will takes the plot!!!) and just. guys. gay ladies on EPISODE ONE? this is going to be my fav season so far i am manifesting🙏

that said i stuck to the canon design (mostly?) For this drawing but oh i am so excited to make them my own. trudy and kelsey i am going to Get You (so lovingly)

[preservationofnormalcy]

How does magic work anyways?

For the Thrashwizard Molorov PSA it said that he can make something "conform to Rhythmorzaxian realspace" and that boosts his power. So is it realm/universe linked?

Also, is realm hopping easy? I want to see my alternate universe selves and have a grand old time.

From, New to this here extranormal thing

(p.s. Jenny: I agree)

This is a big question, and thus I turn to our biggest brain: Ambrose Delgado, our local wizard and smartest man on the planet. He'll take it from here.

Ah, hello! This just does speech to text? Good! Good! I'm Ambrose, and Norm said you guys had some really interesting ontological-thaumaturgical questions, and boy I am just itching to draw out my current ontological model in a format that's not some stuffy paper! Hah!

Pardon my bad drawing and my just awful handwriting, but this is what I'm currently working with. A lot of this is simplified for the, uh, purposes here, translating it to the layman - that's you - and a lot of this is....currently completely hypothetical or the ultimate extrapolation from thaumo-mathmetical models. There's some realm designations I knew off the top of my head, there's a few more we know of, of course. And....some I can't label, just due to their classification.

Imagine the universe as a series of bubbles - that's "us" in the, uh, middle here. And by "us" I mean the entirety of realspace, our galaxy and indeed universe. Though, once you get out to the edges of the universe, realspace starts to get...slippery, ontologically speaking. At least, according to our models, there's some very interesting work being done in France right now regarding how much the edges bleed--

Sorry, yes, the model. Right. So, you have the bubble that is "us" and our realspace, and then the skin of the bubble, a dimensional barrier. That's currently a very hard thing to pierce. It can fail, randomly, and objects or people drift, but that's, you know, incredibly rare. It's hard to punch through and even harder to do so safely. Currently, we can't....consistently do it. At least, not in a way that satisfies modern thaumaturgical standards. A lot of the older wizards insist they used to be able to pop over to Albion Dieselsands or Old Charlie for the weekend, but frankly I don't believe them.

Just going through my labels here - so you have the dimensional barrier, then what's outside it. I know Norm's talked about it, but the colloquial idea of an "alternate universe" is not really something that exists. Many-Worlds is mostly incorrect. Mostly because choices do have the potential to create another "bubble" in our local multiversal map, it's just....very rare. Not every choice or turning point has that potential, and of the ones that do, an exponentially small number seems to actually result in a split, though he's mentioned "quantum potentiality", a concept that I think really hasn't been studied enough. I actually think that--

The model. So, the result is that "alternate universes" are mostly extremely divergent from ours, like our friend Thrashwizard's native Rhythmorzax. The terms "alternate universe" and "realm" are interchangeable. The "similarity gap" label refers to the concept that almost all realms are wildly different than ours, due to the nature of how splits work. We aren't....totally sure how it works, of course - are we the "prime"? Are we a "split"? The model is onto-centric, we aren't actually in the "center." A simplification to help readability. The ultimate answer to your "other you" question is it's extremely, incredibly unlikely that an entity meant to be an "other you" even exists, even if you were to find a realm where they could and breach the barrier.

The other labels. The "noo-drift cloud" refers to the concept that, well, concepts drift to other realms, or are shared - the dimensional barrier is somewhat noospherically permeable. That's why ideas like "metal music" are found on even the otherwise wildly divergent Rhythmorzax. A more accurate diagram would look like a Venn diagram, with noospheric circles overlapping.

You can see the more alien-less alien "meter" here - it's generally true that the more wildly divergent realms are more alien to us, in a familiarity sense. Heck, 99-Puppet doesn't even have humans or even human-adjacents on it.

This is where your question about magic comes in. See, most realms have a system of magic unique to that realm. When you're trained in one magic system, it's...it's like a language. Language has a huge effect on how your brain works, and so does a system of magic. Going to another realm is like being forced to learn a new dialect or even a new language. It's possible, sure, and might be easier for you because you know magic in the first place, but it can be quite a challenge. Again, our friend the Thrashwizard is already practiced in local thaumaturgical space, and his ability to "ontologically terraform" space temporarily is quite dangerous, as yes, that does put him on more familiar ground, magically-speaking.

Describing how magic works is...tricky if you're not already trained, and witches will have a different answer from wizards, who will have a different answer than warlocks, etc, etc. The way my brain conceptualizes it is...accessing an unimaginably large computer and requesting changes to the world - if you know the language the computer speaks and have the mental energy to send the request, it'll prioritize it to....immediately, really.

The last labels, on the right there - you can see the typical influence range of draconic or angelic/demonic entities. They have a much easier time traveling than we do, of course, though angels and demons seem to have settled on this one for reasons that are currently unclear. Dragons come and go, as they are....wont to do.

Oh, and you can see the....big bubble. It's current prevailing theory that the larger multiverse just....repeats, fractally. There's an unknown number of big bubbles out there, all of them unfathomably alien. IF any of you remember our communications with T!ss, they came from a bubble one or two removed from ours. Further out than that, it's....currently hypothetical. Outsiders, actually, are currently thought to exist in the space between bubbles, but I try not to dwell on what that means.

Hopefully that answered some of your questions!

[atrial-ofhorror-if]

Hey, y'all! It's that time of the month again~~ Time for a monthly update!! 

I want to start this off with checking in on you guys. How's everyone doing? The year just started but it just feels like time is moving so fast already. I hope that this year will be much kinder to us all than it has been 🙏🏿🙏🏿 last year really tried to knock my dome top off, but I'm still here, so thats something. Let's all do our best, and kick or at least bruise the universes ass!

Clerical Updates

I have some changes that I'm planning for the Itch.io page, guys 👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿First thing first, I want to change the game's title screen. I had initially made it in Canva with the aid of a friend from work, but as I continue to work through the game, I feel like there could be a much more fitting image. However, your girl isn't a graphic designer, so I want to commission someone to make a header or some shit.

Then I want to add a game starting page into the actual demo. I’ve looked at some examples from other IF writers who have made one, but I think my code is wrong (as it usually is), so I’m pacing back and forth trying to figure out exactly how and what I’m doing wrong. stay tuned for the shenanigans, cause I bet its something super simple 🙃🙃

I've been slowing down in writing. I typically write in my Google docs app on my phone, it's easier than opening my laptop, but the app has been having hella issues. I think it's because of the document size, so it's been significantly slowing down my writing time. I've been looking into alternative apps, so if anyone has recommendations, let me know. 

Game Progress

 I am officially at 60k+ words!!  

To be well (Alex’s Route): 49%

Search and Destroy (Mark's Route): <1%

Interlude (Intermission): 4%

So far, I have three big scenes left to write in Alex’s route. 

North Wing. Nuff said.

Convergent: not to be confused with divergence

Isekai? Isekai. 

Once I've written those scenes out, the rest will be smooth sailing. I just have ends to tie up and scenes to flesh out before I can finally push it into editing. I might do some of the fleshing out during editing to make it easier on myself (and to give myself a break), but I am just trying to go with the flow.

Once I push the game into editing, I'll take a break before I start on Mark's route. I'm still dealing with fatigue from Miss Rona despite having the same progress I had before I got sick but it just feels... weird. Like your girl is trapped in a slumber or something and I can't get out, but now I'm being anecdotal.

Back onto topic.

I want to talk about Mark's route for a moment. Because it truly is the bane of my existence, and I'm DREADING having to write it. I have three possible ways of how I want to deal with it:

Write the damn thing out, and stop bitching. Not ideal

Don't write it and be great 😤😤😤 most ideal

Release Alex's route once done with editing and worry about Mark at a later date. also not ideal cause then I have to come back to it! 🥴🤧😭

So, the last option is something I'm looking at real disrespectfully. Partially because I'm probably going to have to rewrite some of the subplots because when I plotted the outline for the entire episode, I had a precise idea of what was to occur. But Alex's route completely shifted from what was supposed to be there into something that I don't even recognize. Which isn't a bad thing, just… an inconvenience 🥴🥴

Therefore a lot of things that were supposed to happen just didn't. Which, again, isn't a bad thing. It just means that I need to reign the plot in again. I could finesse a lot of the content to make it flow, BUT that will take me some time.

So, in short... I still don't know what I'm gonna do!! 😭😭 but I probably will end up writing Mark's route cause I don't want to end up shorting you guys on content just cause I'm feeling lazy.

This episode has a LOT of variety in it. Like, I'm not even bullshitting. I'm aiming to make it so that you guys can replay it as often as you desire and still find new things you would have missed. (To make up for the fact that episode 2 probably won't be released until next year if we're being honest 🥴🥴)

The interlude isn't even something I'm thinking about at the moment. Partially because I'm trying to push through Episode 1, get done with Alex's Route and start on Mark's. A portion of it will still be in the update, but I'm debating if its going to be even smaller than what I intended it to be. Possibly? But again, I'm not so much of a planner as much as I am a 'go with the flow'er.

I'm hoping to drop pieces of the interlude this year until it's whole, instead of just writing the entire thing, cause I swear I'm not doing this shit again, lol 🤣🤣. Either way, I will keep you guys updated if anything changes.

I think that's it? If you guys have any questions, you know what to do. And if you need anything, let me know! I'm semi-available (not really) on the weekdays so I'll try to answer any asks as quickly as I can. But either way, love y'all 🤎🤎

[audio-luddite]

Pontificate

VERB

express one's opinions in a way considered annoyingly pompous and dogmatic.

Yah OK that is me (sometimes?). Though it is a common thread in the audio hobby. Tribes form and hold fast to their dogma. You know how that works. Tubes are best. MOSFETs are best. Give me Single Ended Triodes, or give me death. At the head of these tribes are annoyingly earnest people. Only they are right, all others are misguided.

My tribe is vinyl is best. Linear tracking turntables are the best. ARC Preamps ...... well you get the idea. I am pretty open about other things. Any amplifier technology that works is OK in my books as long as we have triple digit Watts on tap and some damping factor.

The most egregious pontificators are the golden ears with YouTube channels and or magazine columns. I find them entertaining especially when they miss things or just go far down some rabbit hole. That is why I check them out so often.

Take for example a person reviewing a speaker. There are so many methods, techniques, and design philosophies that your head will spin. Whichever speaker on review is very good to the best (depending). That Audiophiliac guy has had 60 year old Klipschs and bi-polar planars and baffleless cones, and boxes and well everything as his go-to reference at one time or another. He has interviewed speaker designers and praised their work while keeping completely different types as his reference.

Thing is I have a problem with contradictions. If one way is best the others are not. For example PS audio makes a speaker range that has an exotic diaphragm based treble driver that is the end result of years of work. In many respects it is the child of one of the early speaker design gods Arnie Nudell of Infinity fame. It is apparently VERY good.

BUT there are competing designs by Wilson Audio which is by many people considered the GOAT but uses fairly conventional magnetic coil based drivers. Many of them very carefully tuned but still box based.

The trick here is the position of the drivers can be adjusted to exactly align with your head-in-a-vice listening position.

Then you have electrostatics and planar magnetics and on and on.

So which approach is the best?

Those guys above are both are not inexpensive and have quite divergent design philosophies. So actually neither can be best.

I am certain they both sound very good with well matched equipment and room treatment. The room has to be "tamed" to work with these guys.

Any speaker can sound good within limits. Many sound very good even with flaws that someone from another tribe would consider fatal.

I do not like speakers that blow sound out front and back. I built those and was happy, but very much of what you hear is not in the source. It is an effect that muddles the sound. It is sound waves bouncing off back walls and other surfaces. Your brain compensates for that. I now prefer to minimize brain compensation.

Clarity and wide frequency range are my thing. Clarity means a minimum of extra sound waves coherently produced. Wide range means deep bass, and well my high frequency is not what is once was, but I have measured response way over my ear's limit.

If you sit in close to the "good" spot and cannot even identify where the speakers are that is good. You just want a curtain of sound an illusion of something or even somewhere else stretched across the room. That is the true goal. If you have that you are there already.

I recall a golden ear saying that a particular tube amplifier had very little "tube fuzz". I supposed that meant he heard it often, but forgave the other devices that flaw. "Solid State detail" was another thing he said. So SS has more detail? I recall another questioning MOSFETs as having a particular not quite right characteristic. Of course very many think that old school Bipolar transistors are fundamentally wrong for not quite clear reasons.

I could go on for hours about phono pickups. I may have once or twice, but I have some wise men on my side.

It all falls down to my mantra. There is no best. Better is what you like. If you like something more it is better.

[dauntless-gothamite]

Prove Them Wrong [5/?]

Fandom: Divergent Pairing: Eric Coulter x Fem! Reader Summary: Y/N is a Dauntless transfer from Erudite, and she has a drive, an ambition that sets her apart--it always has, even back in Erudite. She brings her perseverance (and need to prove others wrong) to Dauntless when she transfers, and she uses her mind to make her way through the initiation process. Along the way, she makes friends and enemies, and she finds herself comfortable around the man most people in Dauntless avoid at all costs: Eric Coulter. A/N: I am so glad people are enjoying this so far! I am having a great time writing it, and I am excited about the chapters that are yet to come. I’d love if you let me know what you think of this new chapter, but no pressure, enjoy!!

The next morning, as all the other transfers ran laps, you made your way to the infirmary for physical therapy. When you got there, the doctor who had stitched you up the day before waved at you in greeting. “Hello, Y/N, how is the leg doing?”

“Better than yesterday,” you replied with a small smile. 

“Glad to hear it,” she replied. “You’ll be working with Andre today, he’s one of our physical therapists,” she said and pointed to Andre, who was standing a few feet away and waved. 

“Alright, thanks,” you said and started walking towards Andre. “Nice to meet you,” you said and stuck out your hand.

“Likewise,” Andre said and shook your outstretched hand. “So the program I have designed for you focuses more on keeping your leg muscles engaged without running the risk of tearing your stitches open more than recovery because the injury is serious but ultimately, it is just a deep laceration.” You nodded in understanding, and he led you over to a stationary bike. “For the next half hour, you are going to ride this bike. I want you to work your leg muscles and cardio system, but do not put more strain on your legs than necessary, the last thing I want is to tear those stitches or for your leg to start bleeding. Here is a set of headphones that hook up to the bike’s electronic system; I know riding a stationary bike for half an hour can get boring, so feel free to listen to music while you work. I’ll come get you in half an hour, but you can call me over at any point.”

“Sounds good, thanks,” you said before getting on the bike and connecting the headphones to browse the music selection for a little while before settling on an upbeat song with a strong bass beat. Then you got to pedaling. 

--

You were sweating--not as much as you did during regular training, but you were still getting a good workout in--when the thirty minutes ended. Andre walked over to you and helped you get off the bike, and it took you a second to adjust to the solid ground beneath your feet. “Good job,” Andre said. “It really seemed like you were pushing yourself while still respecting the boundaries set by the injury. That’s smart, if you keep this up, you’ll probably heal quickly. Most dauntless go all out and reinjure themselves, so it takes even longer to heal. But I see you have some brains, a good quality for future dauntless.”

“Thanks,” you beamed at him.

“Y/N,” someone said, waving you over from the entrance of the infirmary. You turned to see Four standing there, and you furrowed your brow; you were supposed to be at physical therapy for another half hour before going back to the training room. 

“What’s going on?” you asked as you walked over to him, Andre right behind you.

“Eric changed the plan, we are working with crossbows today instead of fighting, and since you can participate in this, I came to get you while he explains what's going on to the other initiates,” he explained. “Although, perhaps leaving them alone with him wasn’t the best idea,” he said, half-joking, earning a smile from you. 

“Alright, let’s go then. I’ll see you next time, Andre,” you said to the physical therapist as Four walked with you back to the training room. “So… what’s up,” you said to fill the awkward silence that settled between you and Four as you two walked. He looked at you, amused. 

“Oh, you know. Training initiates.” You laughed at his bluntness. 

“Right,” you chuckled. “So, why did Eric change the plan?” you asked cautiously.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Four shrugged. “Though I suspect it has to do with the fact that he’s particularly… grumpy today, and he probably wants to shoot arrows at someone.”

“Well, that does sound like a very real possibility,” you agreed, and the two of you reached the training room to see Eric walking up and down the line of initiates holding crossbows and aiming at targets, aggressively yanking them into the correct positions, yelling all the while.

“Finally,” he snapped as you picked up a bow and walked to the end of the line, lining yourself up with the target. You closed your eyes to prevent yourself from rolling them at his comment while he continued roughly moving arms and legs of different initiates, sometimes making them wince in shock, surprise at the force, pain, or all three. When he got to Tris, who was right next to you, he looked her up and down, moved her arms, and said “Back straight, initiate! With that posture, you’ll shoot yourself in the foot, assuming you even get the arrow out of the crossbow!” He waited for a second for her to move, but he quickly became frustrated and yelled to Four, “Four, you deal with this one, I’m going to catch Y/N up, since she has finally graced us with her presence,” he said sarcastically. Tris made eye contact with you, and you knew she was wishing you luck, making you smile a bit. 

“Alright,” Eric said, turning to you. Turn sideways, aim down the line, legs shoulder distance apart. Don’t lock the knees, but stand straight. Non-dominant arm straight, other arm pulls the string back once the arrow is notched, pulling with the middle three fingers. Pull the string all the way back to your ear, look down the line, and shoot. Go,” he said, stepping back and watching with crossed arms. You took the stance Eric had described as well as possible, and Eric’s hands landed on your hips, turning them just the slightest bit. Then, as quickly as they had landed there, they were gone. “Same thing as with the punch, initiate. The angle of your hips matters; it’s where your legs and torso connect, so there’s a lot of power there. You can use your core to help your arm pull the string back further, allowing you to aim better and send a more forceful arrow.” You nodded, notching an arrow, pulling back, and looking down the arrow towards the target. Without hesitation, you released, and the arrow landed mere millimeters from the bull’s eye. “Good,” Eric nodded, walking away. 

As you reached for the next arrow, Tris said, “What the hell just happened?”

“What do you mean?” you asked. 

“Eric. He made us run fifty laps, then he changed up the plan and told us all to take an archery stance. Then, he walked up and down the line, pushing and pulling people into the right positions--I think he almost sprained Al’s shoulder! And then, just now, he just… what, turned your hips? No yanking or bending at unnatural angles or anything!”

“It’s probably just because I got injured yesterday and he doesn’t want to reopen the wound,” you shrugged. 

“Maybe,” Tris said with a sigh. “But still, that was… weird.”

“As opposed to the way Four helped you?” you countered, and she blushed. If she thought you hadn’t noticed the way Four had helped her by taking a softer approach than Eric, she was in for a surprise.

“It’s better to try and get into a position you have a hard time with when you exhale,” she defended, knowing you’d heard Four’s suggestion of a quick breathing exercise. 

“I know,” you smirked. 

“Ugh, let’s just get back to shooting,” she said, and you laughed.

“You two, shut up and get shooting,” Eric’s voice called out, quieting your laughter and causing both Tris and yourself to fall silent. You both made eye contact though, took aim, and released your arrows at the same time, each sending a swift arrow into the center of your respective targets, pride for both yourself and your friend rising inside of you.

“Ten more minutes,” Four called out. “After that, you will retrieve your arrows, put your equipment away, and get to lunch. So give it your all!” 

You took a deep breath, and each arrow you shot for the next ten minutes was aimed with extreme precision, resulting in a pretty crowded center of the target when Four called for everyone to stop. It also made the job of retrieving arrows easier since they were all in one area, which you were grateful for as you pulled each one out of the target. 

As you and Tris walked over to the storage cabinets to put your bow and arrows away, Will and Christina jogged over to you guys, having already put their stuff away. “How was physical therapy this morning, Y/N,” Will asked as he came to a stop. 

“It was good,” you replied, “I just rode a stationary bike so I could get a cardio workout and engage my leg muscles as well as my core in a more controlled setting.”

“That makes sense,” he nodded in approval. “I’m glad it went well. The rest of us had to run around here fifty times!”

“So I heard,” you said, still surprised at the number of laps your friends had run that morning. “And this one here,” he put an arm around Christina’s shoulders, “was one of the first people to finish!”

“Congratulations!” you said with a smile to Christina. She had set a goal for herself to improve her cardio, and it would seem she had reached it. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks,” she smiled, blushing slightly at the contact with Will. “So, wanna get out of here and grab some lunch?”

“That sounds great to me,” you nodded, ready to go. 

“Y/N,” Eric said loudly from across the room as he strode towards you and your friends. 

“Yes?”

“Before you go, I want to take a look at your leg; there’s a first-aid kit in here and I want to see if it needs cleaning seeing as you sweat earlier. The last thing I need to deal with is an infection.”

“Alright,” you said and walked over to the bench, your friends following you. You rolled up the leg of your sweatpants, and thankfully, the wound didn’t look too irritated. 

Nodding, Eric said, “It looks good, but make sure to clean it well later. Use soap and water, and halfway through the day or between workouts, I would recommend disinfecting it.”

“Is there anything I can use now? Just to be safe?” He nodded and grabbed the first aid kit from a shelf on the wall, opened it up, and grabbed a hydrogen peroxide wipe. 

“Here,” he said, handing it to you. “There is also some cream here which you’ll be glad to have once you feel the sting of that wipe,” he said, handing you some ointment. 

“Thanks,” you said as you ripped open the hydrogen peroxide wipe and cleaned the wound. 

You hissed as it stung, and Eric sounded further when he said, “Told you,” since he was putting the kit back. You grunted in acknowledgement, and after wiping the area down, you put some of the ointment on, which was a much nicer way of keeping the area clean. Then, you rolled down your pant leg, stood, and made to toss the ointment back to Eric, but before you could, he said “Keep it.”

“Thanks,” you said, surprised as you pocketed it. Eric simply nodded. 

“Now get out of here,” he said, “go eat lunch.” And with that, you were swept out of the training room by your friends. 

--

“So, we missed you at dinner last night,” Christina said as you and your friends sat down at a table in the dining hall. “Although I totally get that you had other things to worry about. You did get to eat though, right? We wanted to save you some food, but it was pasta night, and everyone had to fight just to get their fair share.”

“That’s sweet of you guys,” you said. “Four tried to do the same thing, but he was too late. “Luckily, Eric had a backup plan.” 

“Oh my god, did you eat dinner with Eric?” Tris whisper-yelled, making eye contact with Christina, whose jaw was hanging open. 

“Yeah, last night was a lot. I waited in his apartment while he got me some sweatpants, which are really comfy, and then he got back and made ‘low-carb enchiladas’ for dinner.”

“Of course they’d be low-carb, Will said, rolling his eyes.”

“Were they good?” Christina asked.

“They were so good,” you nodded. 

“How was the company?” Tris asked.

“Honestly it was fine. I think that the fact that we didn’t talk because we were both tired prevented an argument from breaking out.”

“That’s good,” Christina said. “I’m glad he wasn’t completely horrible to you after you’d just gotten hurt. Although, I have to ask, why wasn’t he completely horrible to you today? I didn’t think he’d have that long of a ‘grace period’ after injuries.”

“He probably didn’t want to reopen the wound,” you said, repeating what you’d said to Tris earlier. “Why are you guys so interested in him?”

“Because he is the scariest person here, and he just gave you some ointment for your leg, which is the exact opposite of what it seems like he would do!” Will said. 

“You do have a point,” you admitted. “Look, I don’t know, but it doesn’t really matter. Besides, we still have to talk about the way Four keeps eyeing Tris,” you said, smirking evilly as you turned the attention away from yourself, launching a new line of questioning, this time aimed at your friend.

Tag List: @shykoolaid, @taina-eny​, @parabatai-winchester​, @marvel-ousnesss​, @kid-from-new-zealand​, @polychr0matic​

[ladyanaconda]

Helluva Dad Vol. 3: Nerd

As I mentioned in the first one-shot, the events of the Harvest Moon Festival took place before Murder Family in this AU, so the discovery of the angelic weapon went differently. In other words, this prequel is where the canon divergence begins. Enjoy!

*HB-*

It's gonna be nice working with him. I asked him if he wants to join I.M.P.

Moxxie couldn't get those words out of his head. Striker working at I.M.P.? As much as he hated to admit it, he could actually picture it. The cowboy was an ace at… Well, everything, as far as he knew. This didn't mean Moxxie was happy at the prospect of having him as a co-worker, however. Striker had done nothing but rub Moxxie's lack of physical strength and 'balls to his face; heaven, even Striker's five-year-old kid made fun of him in a more innocent, child-like manner.

Moxxie felt a pit in the bottom of his stomach; if Striker does join I.M.P., where would this leave him in the company? Blitzo's the boss, Millie the powerhouse, and Striker might as well replace Moxxie as the weapons expert, not to mention become an additional powerhouse. Where would that leave Moxxie? Besides, he wasn't sure if he wanted to work with the guy who humiliated him via song, the one thing Moxxie thought he'd at least be better at.

Joe and Lynn never liked Moxxie for Millie from the beginning. 'Too much of a wimpy fag', he overheard them say more than once. 'He can't handle something as simple as gathering eggs from the chicken coop*, how is he going to protect or provide for Millie?' Striker, on the other hand, was strong, imposing, fearless, manly. They treated him more like a son-in-law than Moxxie even if the cowboy wasn't wedded into the family. Moxxie was no fool; he'd seen his parents-in-law subtly trying to get Millie alone with Striker and have them spend time together, practically screaming 'dump your wimp of a husband and fuck this real man'.

These thoughts crossed Moxxie's mind as he climbed upstairs. Everyone else was outside, which was good because he wanted to be alone right now.

There was a thump in one of the rooms. Following the sound out of sheer curiosity, Moxxie noticed a white glow filtering underneath the door. Hey, isn't it Striker's room? Moxxie has a policy against entering someone's bedroom without permission, but his spite towards the cowboy imp and curiosity got the better of him.

He found little Jake on the bed. The impling looked frightened for a second until he noticed it was only Moxxie. "You not daddy!"

"What do you go there, little fella?"

"Nothig!" Jake spread out his arms in a feeble attempt at hiding whatever thing was on the bed. Moxxie only had to take a few steps forward to peek over Jake.

"Oh, my crumbs!" There, in a long case, was a beautiful black rifle with silvery designs that almost seemed to glow with a heavenly light. "A genuine carmine crafted blessing-tipped rifle."As Moxxie tried to touch it, Jake snapped his teeth at his hand. "Hey, watch it!"

"No touch! Daddy's rifle!" Jake growled adorably. Geez, the brat's got his father's awful character.

"How… How in the fuck did he get one of these?"

"Why don't you ask me, little dude?" Moxxie and Jake froze, though the latter seemed more like 'shit I'm in trouble' than 'shit I'm dead.

Striker was leaning against the door, arms crossed. He didn't look very happy.

"Boy, I thought we'd talked about this already," he told Jake sternly.

"I… I just wanna touch it, daddy." Jake whispered timidly.

"W-Why do you have this?! Mister!" Moxxie asked nervously. "You are aware this kind of weapon can kill…"

"...Demon royalty?" Striker finished grimly.

"Yes, that."

"Duuh! That what it for, dummy!" Jake stuck his tongue at Moxxie.

"Kiddo, Mrs. Lin is baking the lava berry pie you like so much. Why don't you go take a look while daddy has a word with Moxxie?" Did Striker just call him by his name? Jake yelled happily and climbed off the bed, speeding out of the room.

Moxxie felt a shiver down his spine as Striker closed the door shut behind him. "Well, I'm… I'm relatively concerned by your possession of this…" he stepped back warily as the cowboy walked towards him with a devilish grin, eyes glowing as he came to a halt right in front of Moxxie, silently staring down at him. "I'm also glad my instant dislike of you has been validated!"

Neither moved for a while. Then, against Moxxie's expectations, Striker gently moved him aside to gently run his fingers along the weapon's side. There was a sad, almost nostalgic look on his face.

"I cherish it, you know. It used to belong to someone who was very dear to me. Nowadays I rarely use it, though. So it's more like a memento." Moxxie was quite surprised at the emotion in his voice.

"Then you have used it."

"Well, I wasn't always a farmhand, little fella. Let's say I'd make a living as a hitman." Striker sat down on his bed, eyes on the rifle. "Whenever people wanted someone dead, they'd call me. Kind of what you guys do at I.M.P., but down here in Hell." He sighed. "Then my… priorities shifted."

Moxxie was about to ask him what he meant when he spotted a small box full of toys. "...Jake."

Striker nodded. "When Jake was born, I realized that kind of job endangered both my and his life on a nearly daily basis, so I had to retire and find a safer job. It's not as exciting as the thrill of shooting people's brains out of their skulls, but it puts bread on the table."

Moxxie wasn't sure what to say. Tentatively, he sat down next to Striker, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. He wasn't pushed off, so he guessed it was okay.

"You've done a decent job, you know. He's a good kid… Most of the time." he murmured the last part.

An awkward silence followed until Striker spoke again. "So, Blitz said you're I.M.P.'s weapons expert."

"I am. Why, is it such a surprise for you?"

Striker shrugged. "What can I say? You don't give that impression, wimp."

Offended, Moxxie pulled out his pistol. "Walther P.38!"

Striker raised an eyebrow. "Looks pretty anemic compared to the peacekeeper."

"It's not about size, you know. It's about stamina."

"Is that so?" Striker smirked. "What can you tell me about the Thompson submachine gun?"

"Fifty rounds a drum, twenty-five a mag!" Moxxie said in excitement. "It's a good weapon, but its cocking mechanism always jams. The Russian P.P.S. personal assault weapon is a better choice."

"Maybe, but in the end, it's the experience that wins the day. It's not all about firepower."

"Indeed! I mean, even the best gun in all of Hell can be wasted in the hands of a newbie."

Striker laughed and gave Moxxie a strong pat on the back, unintentionally sending him to the ground.

"Not bad, wimp. Looks like you are good at something, after all."

Moxxie blinked in disbelief. "Was that a compliment?"

"Don't get used to it, little nerd." Striker chuckled, smirking. "You still have a long way to go to earn my respect."

"Who're you calling a nerd?!"

"Bowtie, fragile arms, pushover, you're afraid of a mere rooster. Should I continue?"

"For your information, I'm not afraid of the rooster!" Moxxie crossed his arms. Striker raised an eyebrow. "...I simply don't like the idea of getting infected with the avian flu, thank you very much."

Smirking again, Striker closed the case and walked out of the room. "Nerd."

"I'm not a nerd!"

*HB*

*A callback to the scenes in some movies when someone goes to the chicken coops to collect the eggs and is attacked by the rooster. Come on, you can't tell me you don't see this happening to Moxxie. And if living roosters are a pain, just imagine one straight from Hell.

[dinogoofy]

Rain x GN! Reader.

Asshole.

Its taken me two weeks to get back into the flow of writing fics, but I hope you guys like this!

Warning for swears.

(Disclaimer that this takes place from mkx to mk11, and is not perfectly accurate to the storyline that comes after aftermath, but its my own AU if how I wish it ended, so...)

----

"Shao Kahn was already pushing the line, but mileena as well? Rain, think about what you are saying!" He huffs, his gaze shifting to your eyes.

"You know my reasons." Squeezing your eyes shut, you pressed the palms of your hands to your temples. It's difficult to understand what is going on in Rain's head sometimes.

He had always been hard to deal with. Rain had hired you to help him find someone a while back. Your family line was well known in all relms for their tracking abilities and moral code. You had your doubts about accepting Rain's offer, but the payment offered was more than enough to get you on board.

As the months grew longer, the hunt slowed to a stop. There were No tracks. No clues, not a single strand of evidence to be followed. Rain's brothers remained untouchable. In the meantime, you and Rain had become... close. And you stayed by his side as he shamelessly served Shao Kahn.

Before this, you has always been neutral on outworlds chaotic ruler. But after meeting Kitana and learning of his cruelty in both his political and personal endeavors, you became increasingly uneasy as you remained with Rain.

But now, Shao Kahn was dead. Kotal had taken his place. And it was time to make a decision.

"Is the power- will it ever be enough for you?! Will you ever be satisfied? Mileena is a wild card, Rain! Agreeing to serve her is madness!" Rain's hands flexed, shoulders set back, eyes hard and zeroed in on you. You knew Rain well, you thought. And you could tell there was no getting through to him.

"The power will be enough when I say it is. I deserve everything I want. You deserve-" your heart fluttered as he cut himself off abruptly. Your demeanor softened, and his did too. You almost didn't notice as he started to take a few steps closer to you. His silence was deafening.

"I think you know what I am about to say," He was closer now, close enough for you to just barely feel his breath on your face. He has taken off his mask, and it took every bit of restraint you had to resist throwing yourself in his arms. No. You would never so such a thing. You scolded yourself for being so emotional.

"Do I?" He lifts a hand to caress your face, and against your better judgment, you melted into his touch. You could tell that this was an act. It had to be. From the very beginning you knew that he would most likely only ever love himself. You told yourself that this moment to him is only a chance to get you to remain with him as a pawn. You had always been a pawn to him, and you could tell he hadn't realized you always knew. Still yet...

"Despite my fondness for you Rain, I think this may be where our paths diverge." His body language remained stiff, but he pressed his forehead to your own. His lips in a thin line.

"I know..." This was quite enough. He was such a bad liar that it had started to hurt. You take his hand off your face and into your own, taking a step back from him. Your eyesight locked onto your conjoined hands only.

"This will not be the last time we meet, I can promise you that." For better or for worse, you silently continued after.

"Good. I'll be anticipating our reunion." You take one last good look at him, holding back the words, the tears, the angry and loving things you wish you could say to him in this moment, and you leave him there.

Sometimes, honor and common sense must come before a one-sided love.

You portal back to earthrelm for the first time in months both physically, and emotionally, alone.

----

Whatever time debacle that had just occurred ment, you sure as hell didn't want any part of it. After less than half a week, your younger self had disappeared from the old farmhouse where you lived, and almost everything had gone back to normal.

You hadn't heard from any if your outworld friends in quite some time now, and had faith that whatever had happened, they had it taken care of.

You had just returned from helping an elderly neighbor track down some lost cattle, and were currently curled up in the sofa with a warm cup of tea. Simply enjoying life altogether.

-When a sudden light filled the room, starting you enough to drop your mug, and two figures stepped out of the portal as it shattered on the wooden floors.

"Did we catch you at a bad time?" Fujin had a friendly smile on his face, Nightwolf by his side, his serious counterpart. You were so shocked you almost forgot about the glass.

"Fujin, Nightwolf, I'm almost happy to see you! It's been a while."

"It has," Nightwolf replied, "But I am afraid that this visit isn't simply to reconnect." You sighed, life could never just be simple, could it?

"I had a feeling." You stooped to clean the glass, inviting them to sit while you picked up the pieces. Nightwolf politely declined while fujin stopped to help you.

"Rain has returned. Along with Mileena." If you were drinking water, you were sure that you would've done a spit take. Your head snapped back to look up at fujin, heart almost stopping for a moment.

"I- I thought Mileena was-"

"Dead. We know. After the past and present merged she managed to worm her way into outworld again."

"And... and Rain?" Fujin and Nightwolf shared a look. Oh gods. They knew. They definitely knew. You busied yourself with the glass, taking the other pieces from Fujin and absent-mindedly walking over to the trashcan.

"Rain had resurfaced around the same time Mileena did. We caught them mid battle with an earthrelm man before both disappeared." The glass hitting the bottom of the trashcan was as much of a distraction you allowed yourself to have.

"Rain and I have cut ties. How does this involve me?"

Fujin spoke; "Kitana is now Kahn of outworld. Both he and Mileena want to take her throne, we are asking you to keep Rain in check while we deal with Mileena's uneveitable attack."

You froze for a moment, blankly staring into space. You would get to see Rain again. Maybe even have a chance to sort out the mixed emotions you've been holding in for so long. (By tracking him down and beating the shit out of him, of course. ) But most likely he would hold a grudge for the rest of time afterwards, despising you for "keeping him from his potential". Then again, you thought about Kitana. No, Kitana Kahn. For a moment all you could think about is how proud you were of her. Your old friend, restored to her kinder self and now ruler of outworld. It took a moment but you finally gave the two men an answer.

"I'll do it."

The men nodded.

"Buy us as much time as you can."

----

This was such a bad idea.

You had tracked Rain down in less than a day, and now as he stood before you, you prayed the swell of your broken heart would go down before you choked on your new mission.

Rain was roasting fish over a small campfire in the thickest part of the jungle you had ever been to, a wide smirk on his face. He was not at all surprised to see you, in fact, something about him seemed... different. More genuine. But maybe that is just the hunter part of your brain speaking. The more distracted the target is the easier the takedown will be. He called your name.

"It's good to see you," you swallowed hard, starting to regret agreeing to this before you spoke.

"I wish I could say the same." He stood, sauntering over to you. For a just a moment, his facade almost dropped at your words. You almost didn't catch it. Was he sick? What had happened to the rain you knew? The lair, the theif? No. He hadn't changed, you had to be over analyzing everything about him.

"I believe I know why you are here. Does your support of Kitana really outweigh our past?" The way he said your name after almost made you choke. You narrowed your eyes at him, curling your fists.

"Trust me. That kindness I showed you then won't transfer into Kombat."

The fight was a difficult one, and yet you still won. The demigod, exhausted and face down in the brush, could no longer fight. As you wound your enchanted rope around his wrists, Rain started to chuckle.

"I'm starting to wish I never gifted you that rope." A sly smile plastered itself on your face as you continued to focus on the knots.

"It was designed to help me keep your brothers trapped, you should've known the risks when you commissioned it." Rain mumbled something petty, and you replied by yanking him up off the dirt and into a sitting position, leaving him for just a moment to prod at the dying embers of his fire. You could practically feel his stare burning into the back of your head as he eyed you from behind.

"You are still just as beautiful as I remember." You were thankfull for the setting sun as your cheeks flushed red. He had never sounded so genuine about a compliment before.

"Flattery won't get you out of this." You stated as you sat down next to him, biting into the fish that he was cooking earlier. Damn. The taste was nice reminder of your old days together.

"Worth a try." You snickered at him. His personality surely hadn't changed much, but the way he glanced at you every once in a while caught you off guard. The beating of your heart being a disappointing reminder that you still loved him.

"I realized something the day you left," His drawl of your name caught your attention, but you said nothing, continuing to stare into the small, dying, fire.

"I know you will not believe me, not now, not ever. But I never truly knew how much I cared for you until you were walking away from me." Absolutely not. No. FUCK No. He was not going to do this to you now. GODS you hated how genuine he sounded, how genuine he seemed. It felt like anger and something else were stabbing the inside of your lungs and ripping out pieces of yourself.

And yet part of you knew that for once, he wasn't lying when he said that. At this point, logic had all but escaped from your mind. Grabbing him by the collar of his stupid purple armor, you stared in his eyes, searching for any sort of indication that this was all some well performed lie. But...

Rain was being genuine. He thought that he could rule alone, but the loss of your support ment a more to him than he thought anything ever could. And he hoped that after everything, you would believe him. (This did not mean he would just ignore the fact that you have him under arrest at this moment, however.)

"If I ever find out that you are lying, I'm killing you on the spot. Understand?!" Rain smiled widely as your eyes bore into him. He knew you were serious, you always had been one to keep promises.

When he leaned forward to kiss you, the anger dissipated just a bit, but your resolve, as always, remained the same. You never thought that a kiss would feel so good.

[bumbleberrysky]

alexa, play candyshop (bass boosted) | 03

pairing: gabriel x reader genre: soulmate au, canon divergent around s13, hurt/comfort, humour, future smut (probs) wc: 3.7k rating: sfw warnings: none really

You knew there was a reason some divine power brought you to the Winchesters all those years ago, but to this day you still have no idea what that reason is. It’s something you’re destined to find out soon though, especially when you return to the bunker after months away and find not only a new face, but one that belongs to someone who up until that point you’d thought was dead. What does his return have to do with the changes you’re suddenly experiencing in yourself? Will you finally find out the reason you’d been brought here in the first place? Maybe…

Chuck works in mysterious ways after all.

prev. || next

“Well, whatever it says, we’re gonna have to wait until Cas and Dean get back before we can decipher it.”

You huff, sparing a glance to the angel huddled in the corner, resting his head against the drawers beside his bed. It’s been a few days since you’d first come back and you wish you could say you’ve had all sorts of good progress with Gabriel, but the truth is that you haven’t. He has receded so far into himself that a part of you is actually worried the archangel you knew is gone completely.

“I’m a bit worried,” you admit quietly to Sam after a moment. He turns his gaze to you and you hold it. “He’s… he’s worse than I thought.”

And, put bluntly, you’d thought he was bad.

Sam doesn’t say anything, merely releases your gaze and turns to survey the room once more; the walls are plastered in a scrambled mess of what you can only guess is enochian. You’re not sure when Gabriel had the chance to do it, but you know that earlier you’d visited him to offer him a portion of his grace back and he’d refused, so you’d left and when you returned some time later the walls were like this.

“Did Dean say when they were going to be getting back?” you ask, wringing your hands.

“He didn’t respond to my text, so I can only assume he’s driving.” Sam huffed a laugh. “Cas forgot to charge his phone again so I can’t reach him either.”

You purse your lips, trying not to smile. Of course, it is the little things that Castiel forgets. Like that wireless technology needs charging, that Beyonce is too well known to be used as a cover name, and those straws that don’t always come with fast food drinks.

You’re about to speak when the faint sound of metal hitting metal echoes through the bunker, heavy footsteps on steel stairs following suit.

“Well, I guess that saves us asking,” you say, patting Sam on the arm as you move past. The two of you depart Gabriel’s room, sparing him one last concerned glance before you close the door behind you.

“I’m home! And I brought food!”

Yeah, that’s definitely Dean. You just hope Castiel came in with him so he can see his brother and read the scribble on the walls.

x     x

 The scribble, as Castiel informed you, is a thrilling account of Gabriel’s Story, so to speak. What happened to him after his so-called ‘death’, and you tuned out for a fair amount of it (mostly during the detailed recount of time spent with porn-stars in Monte Carlo) but heard the important bits, like how he was traded in to Asmodeus and what the Prince of Hell then proceeded to do to him for the years following.

It saddened you, despite it being largely something you already suspected if not knew.

After listening to Castiel read the enochian on the walls, you’d had to leave. Uncharacteristic of you, and Dean had given you an odd look as you passed him in the hallway, but you couldn’t spend another minute in there. You felt bile rising to the back of your throat.

You really don’t have an explanation for why you’re reacting so strongly, so viscerally, to everything that has to do with Gabriel. Like you’d affirmed earlier, you only really met and interacted with him a handful of times! You aren’t close with him, haven’t known him extensively—

So why do you have this gaping pit of loss and grief in your stomach, like you’ve lost a limb?

It doesn’t make sense, and you’re not sure if you can make it make sense, honestly. You’d like to be able to put it on the backburner too, but every time you try it just creeps its way back to the forefront of your mind. In a bid to distract yourself, you hole yourself up in your room for the rest of the day, marathoning whatever dumb show is on TV. If you’re lucky, the entertainment channel might have old reruns of Neighbours. That never fails to make you laugh with its exaggerated soapy drama.

To your disappointment, the only thing playing in a marathon fashion is Family Guy, and with a sigh you bundle up in your covers and resign yourself to the afternoon. Well, if you wanted to numb your brain then this result isn’t so bad after all.

You spend the rest of the afternoon in your room, and pass out at some indiscernible hour. When you wake next, it’s a ridiculously early hour of the next morning and the TV is still running. You have a cramp in your neck from your odd sleeping position, and you rub it with a scowl as you emerge from the blankets and turn off the TV. You slept way too long, and there’s no way you can get back to sleep now.

Begrudgingly, you slip from your bed and into a standing position, relishing in the stretch you feel as you lengthen your tight, tense limbs. The floor is cold against your feet but you’re too lazy to search for the slippers that came with your room and instead just go on your way. Destination: kitchen.

You feel like a ghost, wandering the silent halls of the bunker. Dean is most definitely passed out by this point, and Sam… well he’s probably asleep, but you wouldn’t bet on it. That psychopath could also be out jogging. You’re so zoned out that you don’t even realise you’ve reached the kitchen until you stub your toe on the doorframe.

“FUCK!” you curse, managing to restrain yourself from howling like a lunatic just barely, at the last second. You double over, heaving in a big breath. Of course it had to be the little toe—

“y/n? Are you alright?”

The low, gravelly tone that brushes your ears is familiar and always welcome. You stick your thumb up so Castiel doesn’t worry while you grasp your bearings. When you find your voice, you follow up the gesture with a squeaky, “Fine! Peachy.”

“I would remind you that I can tell when you are lying, but I don’t think you aimed to be very believable.”

You straighten, throwing Castiel a bright smile despite the pain still throbbing in your foot. You should have looked for the slippers—this is your hubris catching you slipping.

“Sorry Cas, I shouldn’t be sarcastic. I’m fine, but I think one of these days I’m gonna break my toe for real on that stupid doorframe.”

Unfortunately, this isn’t your first run-in with the doorway. If anyone asked, you would tell them that the design of the hallway is atrocious and that door is not where it’s meant to be. Well, it’s not where you expect it to be every time you come to the kitchen, and is clearly an obvious design flaw.

The angel lets out a soft noise of understanding, lips twitching in the ghost of a smile. “Perhaps. You don’t seem to have very good luck with doorframes.”

“Nope, I definitely do not,” you respond, shaking your foot out before moving over to the fridge and checking to see if Dean bought strawberries. A noise of delight escapes you as you find what you’re looking for, several punnets stacked in the back corner. Ah, and they say old dogs can’t learn new tricks—Dean is a very good learner with the proper motivation!

(Pavlov would be proud of you.)

Castiel has a smile on his face as he watches you remove one of the punnets, hopping up onto the bench facing him and flicking the plastic open. He approaches, movements fluid and calm, and for a few moments you sit in comfortable silence. He is the first to break it.

“y/n… are you alright?” At his repeated question you give him a confused look, and he hurries to elaborate. “I mean… with everything. With Gabriel. I noticed how you left, yesterday.”

Ah. Well, you knew that you hadn’t been subtle, but you hadn’t been sure whether anyone was going to question you on it. You munch on a berry as you think, gaze flicking to the side. You wouldn’t dream of telling Sam or Dean about the odd sensations you’d been feeling, despite the fact they knew how you’d reacted to the news of Gabriel’s death, but Castiel… you felt comfortable confiding this in him.

“Well… yes, and no.” You drop the top of the strawberry into the lid of the punnet and reach for another. “To be honest, I don’t really understand what is going on with me. It’s like… super overactive empathy. It just hurts, to see him that way. And it makes me sad, knowing what he went through. Painfully so.”

Castiel nods, light eyes on you as he listens attentively and with care. You chew through another two berries before continuing. “Hearing it straight from him—well, as straight from him as it could be, I suppose—it just got to be a bit much for me. I had to leave. It just… made me feel a bit sick, is all.”

The look on the angel’s face is pensive, and it’s as though you can see his mind whirring a mile a minute behind the sky of his eyes. “I see,” he murmurs, gaze flicking to the side as he thinks. “Well, you are a very kind soul, so I am not surprised by your empathy. Though, if it is affecting you so strongly…”

He pauses, eyes finding your own again. “If you feel ill again, come find me. I’ll help as much as I can.”

You smile at him, every moment as sincere as you’ve ever been. “Thanks, Cas. I really appreciate it.”

x     x

Sam must have done or said something to Gabriel while you were locked up in your room, because there seemed to be a sudden change in his progress.

For the better, you think. Well, you hope.

He was a little less withdrawn, a little less manic and fidgety. He still doesn’t really speak, and doesn’t react well to loud noises or sudden movements, but Sam told you he had spoken last night.

To correct him about calling the Monte Carlo porn-stars ‘hookers’, of course. You’d wanted to slam your head into the tile wall when you’d heard that.

The day passed quickly after your encounter with Castiel, and you spent it cleaning and polishing your weapons—you don’t want to go down as that one stupid hunter whose greatest folly was improper upkeep of her arsenal. Only when you’d polished your machete to a gleaming shine did you admit that it was likely time for a break. You thought it had only been a few hours, so when you wandered out and found that it was actually almost dinner time, you’d been pretty surprised.

Sam had run into you in the hallway and filled you in, and afterwards had insisted on accompanying you to the kitchen. It seems you spend a lot of your time there, now you think about it.

The large, industrial-feeling space is where you find yourself now, making a lazy stir-fry from pre-packaged vegetables and beef. You’d tasked Sam with cooking the rice since he’d insisted on lingering for conversation, and since you trust that he’s more capable than his brother you don’t bother checking on his progress.

“Castiel was worried when he first saw Gabriel, but after seeing the writing he’s happy because it means the Gabriel we know is still in there, somewhere.” Sam updates you from your side, sniffing and peering into the wok before you in mild interest. “That smells good. You sharing?”

“Maybe,” you answer him, giving him a sly look. “Depends… you got any of that guilt-free ice cream hiding in the freezer?”

Sam peers around to make sure his brother isn’t listening before nodding, “Back corner, behind the frozen berries. We got a deal?”

“Pleasure doing business with you, young Winchester,” you answer with a shake of his hand, putting on an accent for his benefit. He snorts, moving away to grab two bowls—good timing, you have to note, since the stir-fry is almost done. “Kind of sad you still have to hide it from Dean, though.”

“Are you kidding? He has a nose like a bloodhound for sweets,” Sam says, coming back with porcelain in tow. “Did I ever tell you about the time he found an industrial-size bag of Hershey’s kisses I bought? I hid it in the vents in the dustiest corner of the library, and he still found it. That was meant to last me months and he tore through it in a week.”

You blink, mildly impressed. You knew he had a sweet tooth but you didn’t know it was that bad. “Dude, get your brother some therapy.”

Sam snorts, muttering something about how it would be easier to herd cats and juggle at the same time. You’re distracted for the moment by an errant thought that filters across your mind at the mention of chocolates.

Gabriel, in his time spent as a trickster, developed quite the soft spot for them… could it…?

You stir the food before you once more before taking the wok off the heat, moving it to the wooden chopping board on the bench; Sam takes initiative and turns off the stove behind you, something you’re thankful for.

You’ll have to test your theory after dinner.

x     x

The chocolates and candies you’d left for Gabriel after you’d had your dinner are, to your delight, gone the next time you see him.

You’d placed them on a tray for him outside the room and knocked, letting him know you had left him something. Of course, after that no matter how much you wished to stay you forced yourself to be on your merry way so he could retrieve them in peace. The rest of the night had been spent arguing with Dean about the proper name a werewolf-vampire hybrid should be called—not because you have an important opinion on the matter, of course, but because Dean gets very fired up about the subject and it’s very funny to behold.

Back to the point, when you’d returned on your trip past Gabriel’s room this morning (on your way to the kitchen, as anyone would expect), the tray had been placed neatly to the side with the wrappers twisted into the shape of a big, shiny bow. Kind of impressive, especially since you have no idea how he got them to stay stuck together like that.

It made you happy, though, that he’d eaten them. Angels don’t need to eat, of course, but he’d seemed to develop a taste for them ever since adopting the mask of Loki so you thought it might help make him feel a little more like himself.

You try not to think about it too much because it actually makes you a bit embarrassed— why are you so invested? You don’t quite want to know.

Currently, you’re settled in the library with your legs crossed and a tome on celestial beings in your lap. By your side is a plate of celery and a jar of peanut butter, and Dean, who is seated at the oak table with Castiel across from him, is giving you periodic looks of disgust and twisted curiosity. He’d started off attempting to read up on some monster—you suspected it was Werepires, after last night’s argument—while Sam popped off to the store for groceries, since Mary and Jack were meant to be returning tonight. The keyword to note here is attempting; each crunch of celery between your teeth yanks his gaze from the book to you and you can tell its wearing on him. Castiel says nothing, having discovered candy crush on his phone earlier, and merely glances between the two of you every now and then with a faint look of amusement.

“Alright,” He finally breaks after your third stick of celery, giving it a look like it personally offends him. “How can you eat that? Just use a spoon if you like peanut butter so much.”

“What the fuck, ew,” you comment, chomping loudly before dipping the stick into the jar for another coating. “I hate peanut butter.”

“You’re sitting there practically eating it out of the jar!”

“I get cravings sometimes, Dean!” you throw back, somewhat defensively. “It’s like when people eat vegemite—no one likes it, but you get cravings for it, you know?”

“What—ew, no, I don’t know!” Dean’s face has now crumpled into a complete look of disgust at the mention of that particular spread, and he shudders as he regards you. “Every time you leave I almost forget what a freak you are, and then you come back and I’m reminded all over again.”

The way he says it has no bite whatsoever, and you flash him a grin. You don’t realise Castiel has even been paying attention until he speaks, the humour lacing his deadpan tone the only give-away that he’s teasing.

“That wasn’t very nice, Dean. You eat some weird things for a human yourself—like that greasy, fried dessert from the stall in the food festival we drove through.”

Dean at first looks like he wants to argue, but at Castiel’s example a flush of green instead washes over his features. “Ugh, god that was gross. Don’t ever let me buy before I try at a food market again, Cas.”

Castiel snorts softly, turning back to his phone, “You have my word.”

Dean seems to have forgotten he was shaming you for your celery topping, his attention now directed back to the book before him. His face is still kind of pale and you assume he is now adequately distracted enough for you to continue eating in peace. After consuming the rest of the celery in your hold, you go to turn back to your own book. It isn’t meant to be, though, because in the next second the familiar sound of the heavy metal bunker door creaking open splits the air and Sam’s bright voice follows after.

“We’re back! We brought fried chicken.”

You slam the lid back on the peanut butter, putting it on the plate with the celery and launching to your feet in record time, the book unfortunate collateral. It’s like you’re possessed as you zoom into the kitchen, stomach alive and stirring at the mention of chicken despite the fact you’d already been eating.

Upon entry to the kitchen, you’re faced with two new people you have yet to be introduced to—considering you’re familiar with most of Sam and Dean’s other contacts by this point in your friendship, you presume that these two must be Jack and Mary, the Nephilim and the Winchester brother’s resurrected mother, respectively.

“Hello!” you greet, darting forward to help Sam with the food. He gives you a look that tells you he knows exactly why you’d come to help and gives you the bag full of groceries instead of the one with chicken, just to spite you. Your face falls into a pout but your voice is still cheery as you continue, “I’m y/n, I hunt with Dean off and on.”

Both of their faces light in recognition, and you realise that your reputation has preceded you. Exactly which reputation depends on which brother mentioned you—you imagine Dean would have had some very interesting comments to add.

“Hello,” the woman, Mary, speaks, and you’re taken aback by how soft-spoken she seems in contrast with the badass aura and get-up she’s got going on. You’re a little surprised to see her, considering she’s the same age as you presume she would have been when Sam was a baby. “I’m Mary, I’m sure you’ve heard about me. It’s a pleasure to meet you, and… thank you for looking after my boys over the years.”

You beam a grin and it must come across as a very shit-eating one because you hear Dean groan from the next room over as he ambles to join the crowd in the kitchen.

“Don’t encourage her,” he says gruffly as he enters the kitchen, hugging his mother and ruffling Jack’s hair before following his nose to the bag with the chicken in it. “She’ll never let it go.”

“I’m Jack!” Your attention is torn from the previous interaction and redirected to the youthful blonde man next to Mary, grinning at you brightly. “I’ve heard so much about you—it’s nice to finally meet you!”

“Oh, you’ve heard about me?” you can’t help yourself from asking, and you hear Dean’s groan echo behind you. “All good things, I hope.”

It’s a little unfair of you to be fishing in the Jack pond for little tidbits you can use to bully Dean later, considering he’s literally barely a year old and doesn’t really know better to keep his mouth shut, but it is what it is. The question left you out of habit more than anything.

“Oh, definitely,” Jack answers, going to help Mary the second he sees her struggle with a bag from the corner of his eyes, “Well, mostly. Dean—”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Dean interrupted loudly and pointedly, not-so-subtly holding his finger to his mouth to tell Jack to shut it. “Dinner time! Everyone into the library, we have a lot to catch up on.”

Begrudgingly you let it go and follow his directions. He has a point; there is definitely a lot of informing to be done, especially regarding the archangel in the room down the hall.

You take a seat and wait for your meal to be served. The night passes quickly from that point on, the brothers cracking out some beer and Dean snickering when you turn your nose up at it (bad experience, better not to remember it). You get to know Mary Winchester and Jack Kline a little better, and now with all of your heads put together you hope you can come up with a solution to the issues around Gabriel and his recovery.

Well, that and you’re going to see if you can get some good material out of Mary to tease the brothers with. When in Rome, after all!

prev. || next.

[glitchedfoxx]

LCU Info Dump

Here’s a quick briefing on what Lost Curse Universe is, since you guys have, no doubt noticed me posting about it

Relating back to this post that I made earlier today, I’m gonna actually share some stuff about Lost Curse Universe. I don’t know why it’s taken me like a year to get around to posting about what LCU even is, but you know what I may be a little stupid, ok? 

(Long post ahead)

ANyways, I don’t have a whole lot about the AU fleshed out because I haven’t really had a chance to talk to people about it and build off of other people’s ideas and input to make it into something, but I have a little bit of an idea. It’s basically a canon divergent AU splitting off from the story of the FSA mangas, but Green never put the four sword back and they continued to live on as separate Links. Wow, real original, I know. 

The actual setting of GU is a few years after the events of the manga, everyone’s around their late teens/early adulthood in age, and over time, since they split off at a young age, each boy kinda went through puberty a little differently, pretty similar to how twins start out looking the same but they can end up developing differently despite having the same DNA. 

Over time, the individual Links ended up changing up their fashion a bit to tell each other apart better, outside just having different colored tunics. Although the base tunic is the same, they all have accessories added on that makes it unique to them. (If we’re being honest here Blue probably thought it was stupid that they all dressed the exact same and insisted that they change up their clothes so that he doesn’t have to dress the same as everyone else. The others played along.)

There isn’t a whole lot about the AU in terms of storyline, because in all honesty I just wanted to create a way of drawing the boys that was unique to me, so that people can see the designs and go “oh that’s glitchedfoxx’s design!” or something like that, so sorry for not having any sort of storyline or plot to share with you guys, but that will probably come in later once I start actually thinking about the AU more and building it together with you guys.

I can share a little bit about each boy individually though!

Green remained the leader of the group, and he often directs the team on missions they go on together. As they grew, Green ended up being around 5′7″, the second tallest of the group. The defining feature of his outfit that sets him apart from the others are his metal chest plate (that he very obviously either put together himself or stole from another armor set that he adamantly refuses to wear the entirety of because “it’s uncomfortable”), along with a decorative fabric draped over top of it to give his outfit a more “knightly” appearance. He also made the executive decision that he gets to have the Pegasus boots, probably because he’s the leader of the group or something so he gets the cool stuff (his wording, not mine). While the others over time honed different combat skills, Green decided to stick to swordsmanship.

Next up, Red. As the shortest of the group, he drew the short end of the stick when it came to his growth spurt as a teen, only being around 5′3″. His choice accessory was a yellow bandana, adorned with the symbol of the Gorons to accent the fiery theme in his outfit and choice of weapon. He also bears shorter sleeves, and fingerless gloves. Although he does have possession of the other elemental rods, Red has a soft spot in his heart for the fire rod, probably because he likes making things match and the fire rod matches his name and outfit. Although still a skilled swordsman himself, Red overtime chose to hone in his magic ability, and has officially-unofficially deemed himself a mage.

Now for Blue. In stark contrast to Red, Blue is the tallest of the group, although not much taller than Green at around 5′8″-5′9″. Over time, Blue has chosen to omit the sleeves on his undershirt, leaving it as a tank top, claiming “sleeves just get in the way”, although it was in poor taste given his recklessness and as a result has a big number of scars all over his arms. To make up for his lack of fabric on his arms, Blue has a decorative belt of fabric around his waist underneath his leather belt, accenting his blue tunic with a deep red. He also bears some very warrior-esque leather wraps around his forearms, so at least he has a little bit of protection. Just like Red, Blue knows his way around with a sword, but prefers to use his hammer because it doesn’t require thought to use and makes him feel powerful. He’s not very smart, but he has brute strength to make up for it.

Then, Vio. Vio is average height, coming up about an inch shorter than Green at around 5′6″. He’s arguable the most eccentric in his choices of accessories, hiding himself underneath an asymmetrical cloak with a cowl hood, and armoring himself with a golden shoulder spaulder and leather gauntlets. He’s also chosen to replace his sword sheath with a quiver, choosing to focus his energy towards archery, although he does still carry his sword around in case of close combat emergencies. 

Lastly there’s Shadow. Shadow adorns the same look as Green, par the decorative draping. He’s near identical to Green in every aspect, from his clothes, to his height, even down to every single freckle and scar being the exact same. Eerier still, every time Green gets a new scar or blemish, the very same marking will appear on Shadow, constantly mimicking the green hero. Although, Shadow can’t do much, as he has some issues connecting to the light world given the uh... less than pristine condition of the dark mirror.

That’s pretty much all I have, I probably could’ve gone more in depth into their personalities, but I don’t want this post to get too long. Besides, I can’t just hand everything to you guys, you guys can get to know them on your own terms! If you took the time too read all of this, thank you for giving me the time of day, I really appreciate it.

[duhragonball]

Hellsing Liveblog, Ch.11-13

This is the “Balance of Power” arc.

One of the things that frustrated me about the Hellsing TV anime (as opposed to the Hellsing Ultimate version) was that the TV series aired while the manga was still running, and it seemed to struggle between following the source material or just diverging into all new stories.    I think if Gonzo had made up their minds one way or the other, it would have ended up a better show.   Instead, there were all these filler scenes of Seras training with human soldiers, which seemed like an utter waste of the character’s time.    Worse, this meant the human soldiers featured much more prominently than they ever did in the manga, where they all get killed off by Chapter 9 or something.   And if you know that’s coming, like I did, it makes the human soldiers that much more insufferable, because you know dorks like Farguson aren’t going to matter, but they get tons of screen time anyway.    Farguson is like every episode of Dragon Ball GT condensed into a single character.  

Here, in the original manga, it’s pretty clear that the soldiers never mattered, because the only time you ever see them is when Jan Valentines’ ghoul army slaughters them all.    They only existed so Integra would have something to be in charge of, but the only ones who actually matter here are herself, Alucard, Seras, and Walter.    In this chapter, Walter practically admits as much, when he states that there were 96 staff members, and now we’re down to ten: Walter, Integra, and eight jabrones who weren’t at the base that day.    Well, maybe those eight guys will show up later and do something important?   Bullshit they will, they never get mentioned again.   The Gonzoverse might have been able to break some new ground by focusing on those human characters more, but what they actually did was half-assed, and it looks all the more futile when you know how unimportant they are to the original work.   Walter just hires a band of mercenaries to backfill all the vacant positions, and I’ll give you three guesses what happens to those guys.

Concerning “Millennium”, their mysterious new enemy, no one has any idea what they are.    A bunch of people try to research it, because we didn’t have Google in 1999, or at least not Google as we now know it, so if you wanted to know something cryptic you just had to rummage through a card catalog in a library or whatever.    But Integra just makes the logical leap that “Millennium” is a reference to the “Thousand Year Reich” dreamed of by Nazi Germany.   This seems like a stretch, but I think Integra’s reasoning is that this is the only “Millennium” reference that could possibly be worth Hellsing’s attention.

Later, Integra meets the Wild Geese, the merc group Walter hired, and explains their assignment even referencing the Bram Stoker novel.    So I guess Dracula is a real book in the Hellsing world, but it must be at least partially based on a true story, right?   The Geese don’t buy any of this, so Integra introduces them to Seras to prove that vampires are real.

They all laugh at Seras until she starts flicking their leader, Pip Bernadotte, with her fingers.    Then Alucard shows up, and that seems to be enough to convince them.

After this, Integra gets a letter from the Iscariot Organization, inviting her to a meeting with Enrico Maxwell at the Imperial War Museum.    The whole thing introduces Bishop Maxwell very effectively.   He tries to play this off as a peaceful, diplomatic conference, but he makes Integra wait, and she’s still sore about Anderson’s violation of their treaty back in Chapter 5-6.   Maxwell takes all this in stride, then replies that he could care less about the deaths of even two billion Protestants, so the two guys Anderson killed mean nothing to him.    He’s only here because the Pope ordered him to do this, and he calls Integra a “Protestant sow” for good measure.  

At this, Alucard comes out to stand up for Integra’s honor, and then Maxwell responds by bringing out Anderson, except Anderson has a berzerker rage thing going, so it kind of ruins Maxwell’s posturing.    For all his contempt, he really was ordered to London to talk to Integra, so he’d probably get in trouble with the Pope if Anderson starts a big superhero battle in a museum.

In Cross Fire, the unpublished manga that was sort of a precursor to Hellsing, Maxwell looked a lot like Sir Integra does now, so when Kouta Hirano brought him back for this arc, he slicked his hair back and removed his glasses.   On the other hand, Integra doesn’t look much like the early Integra anymore either.    By now, Hirano seems to have settled on her design, straightening her hair out and making her face longer and thinner.   Anyway, Maxwell’s brinkmanship has backfired, and now even he can’t stop Anderson, so what can be done?

Luckily, Seras is here to provide a distraction, as she leads a tour group of elderly Japanese tourists through the gallery.    For some reason this kills Anderson’s fighting mood completely, so he leaves.    Alucard also leaves, because he hates being up during the day.    Walter gives Seras a hearty thumbs up for defusing this tense situation.    Good job, Seras.    You’re doing amazing, sweetie.

All right, so what’s so blamed important that the Pope would send Maxwell to London?    Well, he knows about Millennium’s attack on Hellsing’s base, and he has some juicy deets on them.   After making Integra say “please”, he explains that “Millennium” was a Nazi military unit responsible for transferring resources and personnel for Nazi Germany.    They relocated a ton of these resources and personnel to South America for safe keeping.    Integra’s not too impressed with that, since “Nazis fleeing to South America after the war” isn’t exactly a shocking revelation.  

The twist here, though, is that Millennium was smuggling Nazi stuff to South America during World War II. 

Also, the Vatican helped Millennium do this?   I never understood this part of the story, but I think it gets explained later.   I mean, it explains how Maxwell would have this lead to share with Hellsing, but it raises more questions than answers.

  Volume 2 ends with another chapter of Cross Fire, starring Heinkel Wolfe and Yumiko Takagi.    In the first story, they saved hostages from Islamic terrorists.    This one is them recovering stolen church money from radical communists, which I guess could have been a thing in 1998?    It’s basically the same story, though, as they send Yumiko to infiltrate the bad guys, then they slaughter everyone in sight.    Mostly, I want to focus on the part at the end, where Maxwell, the leader of Iscariot, justifies the use of extreme hyper-violence in the name of the Catholic Church.   You sort of get the sense that the Iscariot Organization in Cross Fire was a concept in search of a villain.   the idea of two girl-assassins dressed as a nun and a priest might have had some traction, but Hirano really seems to have had trouble coming up with worthy enemies for them to fight.    But Hellsing brings vampires into the mix, which suits the Iscariots quite nicely.

Back to “Balance of Power”, the third part features Seras training with the Wild Geese in the middle of the night.   For some reason, Seras expects them to shoot targets from over 4km away.   She can do it, but only thanks to the vampiric senses Alucard showed her how to use.    It’s like she doesn’t realize that this is an ability she only has because she’s a vampire or something.   

Indoors, Alucard and Walter discuss the whole Nazi angle.    Al isn’t terribly surprised, because he only knows three who have ever used undead warriors for combat.   

1) Hellsing

2) Himself

3) The Nazis.

He knows #3 is legit, because he and Walter destroyed a Nazi research facility during the war.    Supposedly that contained all their work on the undead, but now that we know Millennium was smuggling important stuff from Nazi Germany to South America, it only makes sense that they’re the ones who devised the Valentines’ ghoul attack.    The bigger point of this scene is to reinforce that Walter used to be a big wheel in Hellsing, teaming up with Alucard to have Golden Age WWII adventures.   And now, Hellsing will be sending Alucard and Seras to South America to investigate this new threat.   

Here, Walter asks the big question: Why make Seras a vampire?   I’ll have more to say about this later, but I dig this scene because it works as an exposition scene, but there’s more to it than that.   Alucard’s only apparent motivations are over-the-top violence and doing his master’s bidding.   Helping Seras doesn’t seem to fit either of those, so it does indeed feel out-of-character.   You’d expect someone to ask this question, and by now there’s really only two people left who know Alucard well: Walter and Integra.   So yeah, let’s have Walter ask the question.    But later on, it becomes clear that the point is not the question itself, but the fact that Walter is the one asking it.  

For what it’s worth, Alucard doesn’t seem to know, or maybe he just doesn’t want to spell it out.   He keeps saying that it was her “choice”, except he had to make his own choice that night.    He could have just let her die, regardless of any requests she might have made.   Al remarks on her tremendous resilience on that night, since she was surrounded by death and hopelessness, but didn’t resign to her fate.    That impresses him, so I guess we can say that he chose her because he found her to be such an impressive specimen, in spite of some of her goofier behavior.    As it currently stands, Seras can’t even travel across rivers or oceans, a weakness for lesser vampires, but not a problem for Alucard himself.    He seems to think that’ll all be resolved once she finally drinks blood, and he expects that it’ll just be a matter of time before she does.    Ominous!

As far as transporting Seras to South America, Alucard figures the easiest thing to do is nail her shut in her own coffin.   The Wild Geese know a smuggling operation that can fly them to Brazil without any messy customs.   That works out, since they also have to transport Alucard’s coffin, and all the guns.

Integra asks why Alucard is dressed like this, and he says he can’t wear his usual stuff because he’d be too obvious to their enemies.    Also, he doesn’t need to spend the whole trip in his coffin, because sunlight and traveling over water doesn’t bother him, I guess?    I don’t really get the water thing.    If Seras can’t travel over running water, what difference does it make if she’s in her coffin or not?    I can accept that Alucard, who’s basically a super-vampire, would be immune to the whole water thing, but it becomes a plot point later on, so... aw, forget it   

Integra gives Alucard only one order: Search and Destroy, which seems kind of vague when you think about it.   Anyway, she’ll be saying this about a hundred times before the story is over, so we may as well appreciate the original.

[beanenigma]

Tips for people who like to write by hand

So you’re an old timey writer who enjoys the feeling of paper as you breathe life into a story? Or, like me, you can’t use your phone at school and just wants to get some writing done while math class bores the others? 

Well, me too and I’ve come to your aid! I’ve done some pretty stupid things that costed me hours and hours of searching for lost scenes and struggling to find ideas I knew I’d written down so you don’t have to! 

Find the right notebook for you

By experience, notebooks take a long time to be filled. In good nanowrimo times, I take from 6 to 8 months to finish one. So you’ll be stuck with this guy for a long time. Make sure to pick one that you like and is right for your needs. I, for example, prefer spiral notebooks. You can rip out pages if you need to (if you mess it up, if someone asks you for one, if you just need a page to write down a grocery list or something, etc) and you can put a pen on the spiral. I also like having a pocket to put pieces of ideas I have. 

Some spooky stories about having the wrong notebook: 

I got stuck with a brochure old planner for two years. My mom didn’t use it in the year it was meant for, so I thought oh, it’s free real estate. As it turns out, it had really small space between the lines, so the pages would take forever to fill, it had all those day and hour numbers and the paper was really thin. It was terrible and it made writing terrible. It would have been a thousand times better if I just spent a few bucks on a regular notebook. 

More recently, I started using just the kind of notebook I like, a spiral notebook with a pocket. But I bought it a couple of years ago at a fandom event I attended and the cover was a personalized Divergent cover. At the time, I thought if was pretty cool and everyone would know the reference. But now it has aged so very poorly. The cover has blood all over it and it says “Faction Before Blood”. So now I’m scared to pull it out to write at uni and people will think I’m in a gang or something. 

Number your pages

I know, it sounds like a lot of work. But you can get a notebook with pages already numbered, number it yourself or do it like I do and number it every 10 pages (just because it’s easier). If you don’t feel like doing all of this repetitive work,  date your writing. It’s cool to see how much you progressed, how long you have been writing this project, when you had this idea, etc. One thing doesn’t have to exclude the other, but both methods serve the same purpose. 

And this purpose is to help you get an idea of how much you write (and feel good about your progress) and to help you organize yourself on all you’ve been writing. Which takes us to the next tip. 

Make the first page an index

Not only it will take the pressure off the first page, it will also help you so you don’t keep losing the awesome stuff you’re writing and forgetting it exists. Everytime you start a new scene or change projects, go to the index and write down the page or the date you started this new section. Since I number every ten pages, I find the first page with a number on it and start counting forward or back to the new page. But you can do it in any way that suits you. 

Make a random idea page 

It doesn’t have to be the second page (it usually isn’t for me), but it’s good to have one. Sometimes, in the middle of writing, you have that great idea for something you need to change on what you’ve already got, or you got a completely new insight. It’s good to have your idea page somewhere close you can just flip to, write it down and get right back to writing. And don’t go easy on that page! Write it diagonally, vertically, draw on it, anything. It’s just there to take out those ideas so you can take a look at it another time and not mess the flow you’re in right now. 

Keep your enemies close. And your pen even closer!

You know your favorite bic friend? It has a secret weapon just for you to use. That little flap of the cap? Use it to keep your pen always close. I normally put it on the spiral of my notebook. But if you have a brochure, you can put it on the cover. Sometimes it damages it a bit, but it’s a good trade for having it always ready for action. If you use moleskine, I saw that they normally have designated pen places. If they don’t, I have a tip for it just under this one! 

Take your time to find which kind of pen is your weapon of choice. Personally, I think nothing beats a black ballpoint pen. I know some people like fineliners for writing, but they make the other side of the paper all gross looking and I like to keep it clean. Plus, I write really small and fineliners often bleed in my handwriting. I took my time searching for my favorite brand and I settled on Molin ballpoint pens. 

I would recommend buying your favorite pens in bulk. Nothing is worse than pen hunting around when you have an urgent idea. I bought 50 pens for super cheap and I stack them EVERYWHERE. In all my bags, in my sketchbooks, in my bullet journal, in my writing notebook, in my drawers, anywhere I think it will be easy to find one when I need it ( also giving some to my friends who keep stealing my pens).

Crafting the perfect notebook

You don’t have to be a crafter to modify your notebook to better suit you! Find a ribbon anywhere in the house. Cut it to be a little longer than the book. Tape that bad boy to the inside of the back cover and everytime you stop writing, put that ribbon on the page you stopped. This helps you not to get lost in your previous writing and get right back to business when you resume.

Also, if you really like that moleskine vibe but don’t have the cash, just get a regular clothing elastic, make cut it just the size of the notebook and glue both ends to the inner part of the back cover. There you go! Now you can close it (and keep it closed).  

If you like post-its, you can take half of the block (or however many sheets you cant put in there and still close the notebook comfortably) and glue it to the inside part of the cover of your notebook so it will always be conveniently available for you.

If your notebook doesn’t have a place to put your pen on and you really don’t want to mess up the cover, you  take a small elastic (smaller than the pen) and tape (or preferably glue it) it to the back part of the notebook with both ends inside. There! Ready for the trip! Speaking of which...

Always carry your notebook with you

You never know when inspiration is going to strike. In class. At the bank. In a mall. Whenever you have a little time, you can write something. Or just take a look at what you’ve done and feel good about it. 

Not in the mood for writing? Edit. Reread what you’ve done and start finding what you want to change once you type it in.  When doing this, don’t be scared to cross out entire sentences and rewriting them on top. If it starts getting too messy, go to a blank page and rewrite the scene and you think it should have been done the first time. It seems counter-intuitive in a copy+paste kind of age, but I assure you it is worth it.

Typing your work

This is one of the biggest reasons I love writing in pen and paper. When you type, your first round of editing is done! 

Don’t zone out when typing. As I said, typing is your first round of editing. It is important to keep aware of all of the things you might have done wrong when writing. Some people say writing it on paper and then typing it is a waste of time. I say it saves time and lives. 

Keep it loose!

Just because you are writing in an actual physical book, it doesn’t mean you are writing a actual physical book. This is still your notebook and these are still your notes. So don’t be afraid to get messy. Write things out of order (seriously, it’s okay to not go chronological. i know it’s hard). Outline. Sketch. Tip-ex the whole thing. Get post-its on it. Take notes. Make genealogical trees. Draw maps. 

If you’re feeling down or uninspired, try very basic writing exercises: write what you see, what you feel, something to try and make you laugh or something to make someone cry. It’s your place to express yourself. And once you got those creative juices flowing, happy writing :)

I hope you enjoyed my tips and please, feel free to reblog this with your own tips and tricks. I’d love to hear them! And follow me for some more writing content! 

[peppersonironi]

Batfam/Avengers Crossover Chapter Six: Blooming Bromance

Tagging (Let me know if you want to be tagged): @the-fair-maiden-of-fandom

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Category: Gen

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types

Relationships: Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne, Natasha Romanov & Damian Wayne, Clint Barton & Cassandra Cain, Tim Drake & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tim Drake & Duke Thomas, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Dick Grayson/Wally West, Roy Harper/Koriand'r/Jason Todd,

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Selina Kyle, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Barbara Gordon, Justice League (DCU), Alfred Pennyworth, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Clint Barton, Thor (Marvel), Bruce Banner, Peter Parker, Alfred the Cat (DCU), Bat-Cow (DCU), Goliath (DCU), Selina Kyle’s Cat Isis, Kate Kane (DCU), Duke Thomas,

Additional Tags: Batbrothers (DCU), Avengers Meet The Batfam, MCU/Batfam crossover, Crossover, no beta we die like robins, rated T for Jason’s language, I bleeped it out though. Just to be safe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, canon? What’s canon?, Deaf Clint Barton,Deaf Character, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Happy Batfamily (DCU), Birdflash and joyfire are implied/referenced,

Summary: Tim hangs out with the youngest Avenger. A bromance is blooming.

Tim sighed into his mug of coffee. Everyone in his family - minus Stephanie and Babs, since they didn’t live at the manor -  had been gathered in the cave to discuss the ongoing conversation between some of the interdimensional visitors. They - consisting of Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Steve Rogers, and Tony Stark - seemed to have been really freaked out by some of Jason’s snide comments, and were now discussing if the bats were in fact trustworthy.

Tim blamed Jason for this whole mess. Jason couldn’t hold his stupid tounge, so now Bruce had called everyone - after Cass told him what was happening -  together to spy on their guests and work out a plan.

Their conversation wasn’t that interesting either. It was everyone going back and forth, never changing their own arguments. The most interesting thing that happened was when Stark hopped on a computer and started to do research on them. Not that they found much.

“No way in f*** are we amicable!” Jason exclaimed when the article was brought up and read aloud.

“Aw, you sure little wing?” Dick asked, elbowing Jason.

“T-t,” Damian said, rolling his eyes. “Will you two imbeciles shut up? I’m trying to listen.”

Turns out there wasn’t much more. As soon as the Avengers dispersed, Tim turned off the computer. “Now what?”

Cass frowned. “They need trust. Show them.”

Bruce nodded. “Yes, it would be best if they trust us, as we are the ones sending them home. Lack of trust might provoke unnecessary responses from them. It would be best if we can work well together.”

“Show them.” Cass repeated vehemitaly.

“I agree with Cass,” Tim replied. “We shouldn’t just tell them to trust us. That could be taken quite badly. We need to show them.”

“How?” Duke asked. “I don’t know if you guys have noticed, but you are definitely not good at showing your emotions well.”

Bruce sighed heavily. “Yes, Duke, you have made that abundantly clear in the past.” Duke smiled at that, looking rather sheepish. Bruce frowned in concentration. “Let them make the first move. If they try to question you, don’t hold anything back. Try to be friendly.” Tim noticed he directed that last part at Damian and Jason.

“Don’t hold anything back?” Jason asked, an evil smirk growing on his face. Tim shuddered inwardly at whatever gruesome tale Jason was planning on sharing.

“Within reason,” Bruce growled.

Duke stood up. “Well, that sounds good for you guys, but I have Gotham to patrol.” Duke strolled off with a decidedly self satisfied smile on his face. He clearly thought that he was getting out of sharing his life story.

Bruce sighed once more. “Very well, Duke. Good luck.”

Duke nodded his thanks as he made his way to the changing rooms to get ready for his patrol.

*****

“Dude, this is incredible!” Peter had given Tim a chance to look at his web-shooters, and Tim was being a total fangirl over it.

“Thanks,” Peter replied, seeming quite proud. “The basic design is mine, Mr. Stark supplied some improvements though.”

Tim nodded as he continued to examine the device. “Are these veins turbine pumps?”

Peter grinned. “Yup! They compress the web fluid before shooting it out through the spinneret holes which cold-draws the solution and extrudes it through the air, where it solidifies.”

“And during the process the  nylon gains a four-fold increase in tensile strength?”

“Exactly!”

Tim shook his head at the brilliance. “Wow, this is utterly brilliant!”

“Thanks! Do you want to see the chemical formula?” Peter asked. He seemed really eager to talk about it with someone his own age.

“Of course!” Tim hit his forehead. “Gosh, I’m sorry! I completely forgot you came to me to see if we could make more.”

Peter shrugged, “no worries. I’m glad you like the devices.”

Tim reached over to one of the coffee tables in the sitting room they were occupying and handing it to Peter, who promptly began to write down the formula.

Upon seeing it, Tim gasped uncontrollably. “Oh my god, this is the greatest thing I have seen in a long time!” Peter had to be a genius to come up with this, Tim decided.

Peter grinned at Tim. “Really?”

“Totally!”

“You guys done fangirling?” A voice came from the door. “ ‘cause we have some people to decimate!”

Tim looked over to find Jason leaning against the doorframe, two nerf guns in hand.

“Decimate?” Peter asked.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Capture the flag on the back lawn in five. Bring whatever non-lethal weapons you want. You can get ‘em approved before the game starts.” And with that, he strolled off.

“You guys play Capture The Flag?” Peter looked excited.

Tim stood up, organizing the notes, then setting them aside. “Yup! It can get pretty wild though. Think you can handle it?”

Peter grinned. “I think so.”

*****

“Welcome to the 67th annual Bat Fa-”

“It's not annual and you know it Dick.”

Dick pouted as he looked over at Tim. “Come on, Timbo, let me have this!”

“Drake is correct, Grayson. You are acting idiotically.”

Tim glanced over at Damian. “You’re admitting I’m right?”

Damian glowered at his brother. “Of course not.” “But you jus-”

“Are we playing or not?” Someone had managed to rope Bruce into the game, but he was being pretty snippy about it.

Dick sighed, looking defeated. “Fine. Capture the flag. You all know how to play?” Everyone nodded, except Thor.

“I am unfamiliar with this specific midgardian game.”

Dick nodded. “Ok, that’s fine. Good chance to go over the rules anyway. There are two teams, each take one side of the playing area. So each team has a flag, or item of some sort that they each place in a visible yet defendable position. Part of the team defends their flag, while the other part attempts to steal their opponents’. If you get caught on the opposite team's territory, they put you in jail. Only one of your teammates can get you out, by tapping you. Get it?”

Everyone nodded. “Good. A few extra rules that must be followed,” Dick looked pointedly at Jason and Damian as he continued, “ include: no maiming. Serious injuries of most kinds are off limits. Lethal weapons are also out, unless you know how to use them nonlethally. You are also not allowed to leave the playing area at any point. Nor are you allowed to use cookies as bait in any traps. Especially Alfred’s cookies.”

Dick looked pointedly at Tim during the last rule, much to Tim’s chagrin. It had been one time!

“And finally, no touching Alfred’s shrubbery.” Everyone with the exception of the Avengers cringed at that. “Everyone understand?”

There was a chorus of “Yups” “Yes’s” and “f*** yeah, b****!” Tim didn’t need to be the world’s second greatest detective to guess where that last one came from.

“Good,” Dick said, grinning. “We’ll have two teams. Captains are Bruce and me. Let’s get into a line and start dividing.”

Tim got in line, grumbling slightly. A few of the Avengers had also joined, specifically Peter, Thor, and Banner. Tim wasn’t sure how much of a help Banner could be without “Hulking out” as Peter put it, but the guy seemed smart. It seemed like it would be an interesting game.

“Lil’ D!” Dick called, quite predictably. Damian grumbled and walked over to Dick’s side.

Bruce took longer to choose. He examined the faces of each person, one by one. “Tim.” Tim smiled, he had been expecting Dick to choose him, but with Bruce, Tim didn’t have to deal with the demon brat.

Dick chose Thor next, then Bruce chose Jason. They continued back and forth till Dick’s team consisted of Damian, Thor, and Banner. Bruce had chosen Tim, Jason, and Peter. Cassandra had opted to Referee the game, much to everyone’s relief. They could play everyone against Cass, and his sister would still win.

“Flags?” Cass asked once everyone had assembled with their teams.

“I got these from Alfred!” Dick said as he grabbed two large banners from beside a tree. One was Green, the other Blue.

Cass nodded. “You get Blue. Bruce, green.” Once Dick had handed the other banner to Bruce, Cass continued. “Ten minutes to plan and hide flags. Then go.”

They split up, Tim following right behind Bruce. “Ideas?” he asked when they were all in the cover of the trees that they had chosen for their side.

“The flag will go up in the old oak tree, as high as you can get it, Peter. I want Jason on Guard Duty near the tree, I’ll be farther out doing a border patrol. Tim and Peter, you’re both on infiltration duty. Skirt the sides as much as possible. Dick will most likely be trying to cross over, avoid him if you can. Watch out for Damian, too. He'll be joining Dick. Thor will most likely be guarding their flag along with Banner. He won’t be able to resist the pun. They should be pretty easy to take down.” Bruce paused for a moment, thinking. “Dick will probably place his banner somewhere near the westward fountain. Use the ivy wall to the east as cover.”

Everyone nodded, and separated. Peter scrambled up the oak tree with ease, and placed the banner at the literal top. It’d be almost impossible for anyone to reach it, but Tim knew Dick would love the challenge.

A couple minutes later, the guard routes were established, and Tim had shown Peter the way to the flag by drawing a diagram in the dirt. Tim quickly wiped it away, however, when Cass sounded an Airhorn. Tim had no idea where she had gotten it, but didn’t bother trying to figure it out. Tim sprinted to the side almost immediately, Peter right behind them. They wove through the trees, keeping to the shadows. Peter wasn’t nearly as stealthy as Tim, but they both kept out of sight.

Right as they were about to cross over the border, Tim stopped them. “Let’s get an aerial view before we proceed.”

“Sounds good,” Peter replied as they started to climb a nearby tree. Turns out it was the right choice, because they were awarded front row seats to Bruce grabbing Damian by his collar.

“Not today, Damian. You’re going to jail.” Bruce smiled fondly as he carried his youngest son away from the border and off to the previously chosen prison.

“Grayson!” Damian shreeked. “How dare you abandon me! Unhand me this instant, Father! Grayson! You shall rue the day I make my escape! This insult has not gone unnoticed! I refuse to be kept against my will by plebeians! You had better drop everything to assist me Grayson, or -”

Damian’s outraged voice slowly faded away as he was hauled off.

“Oof,” Peter said. “Think Dick will get him out?”

Tim snorted before shaking his head. “Knowing Dick, he’ll be remorseful for a bit before completely forgetting about the kid.”

Peter nodded. “Well, one less person we have to deal with, right?”

Tim grinned. “Yup! We should probably get going.”

*****

“Mmff! Mfffff-mmmf!”

“I think we did a good job, whattaya say, bug-boy?” Tim and Peter grinned down at a bound and gagged Thor and Banner. Both trying and failing to escape their bonds.

“I think we did quite well, bird-boy.” Peter replied. “But we should probably get going.”

Tim nodded as he plucked the banner from atop the fountain, right where Bruce said it would be.

“Let’s go!” they race off towards the border.

It didn’t take them long for them to reach the wide patch of grass marked with a hastily placed length of rope, but their path was blocked. Thor had managed to get out of Peter’s webs, and chased after them. He stood  facing them, his hammer out, pointing at their chests.

“Halt! I must not allow you any further.”

Tim grinned. “Bet I can take him down first.”

Peter grinned right back. “You’re on!”

Togather, they charged the norse god. Peter was flipped over Thor’s shoulder, shooting his webs out and pulling Thor’s helmet over his eyes, though he quickly pulled it up again. Tim unleashed a flurry of batarangs, which Thor dodged. This, however, set him off balance. Tim activated a smoke bomb, and expertly navigated the limited visuals to attack Thor, who was in the process of throwing Peter to the ground.

When the smoke cleared, Thor was once again on his back, taken down by Tim. Peter was also on his back.

“You okay there, Peter?”

Peter groaned and rolled over. “Yup. You won, though.”

Tim crowed. “Hah! Yeah, I did!” He offered his hand to his downed companion. You did a good job too though. We make a great team.”

Peter stood, and together they crossed over the border holding the banner just as Dick came out of the trees being chased by both Jason and Bruce.

“Aw, crap.” Dick said upon seeing Peter and Tim already back on their own territory.

Almost immediately, Cass appeared. A newly freed Banner also appeared. Well, he limped out of the trees.

“Team Grumpy Wins,” Cass says triumphantly. It took a moment for Tim to realise what she had said.

“Wait, I thought we didn’t use team names?”

Cass smiled and pointed at Bruce. “Grumpy.” She then turned to Dick. “Happy.”

Jason smirked. “That’s an accurate assessment.”

He and Cass high-fived.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Dick said good naturedly. “Good job guys. You up for another round?”

“Different teams this time,” Tim replied.

Dick smiled, “Sounds good! Maybe Dami should lead this time.” Dick’s eyes widened. “Crap! Damian!”

Everyone burst into laughter as Dick sprinted towards Team Grumpy’s jail.

[obsessivelycapricious]

⭐ for director's cut ask

Heyy! Sorry I saw on this one for a while, hope that's okay!

From this post :)

-

So I'm about 11,000 words into a Marvel crossover fic. It's a reader insert that spans like from 1940's CA:FA onwards and it'll include the MCU ensemble, X-Men, Dr Strange, Venom, Deadpool and probably more by the time it's done. I'm thinking it'll be canon divergent, taking creative liberties before diving off book after 2012 - I don't have the ending figured out yet though.

Each chapter is really small, it's kind of by design. The main character lives a long ass time so it's more a highlights reel of events and memories than minute by minute account.

Her story could also be divided up into acts really. The first act is called 'We'll Meet Again' - from the song by Vera Lynn. It's set in the time before, during and after CA:TFA and crosses over with Wolverine - that part is almost complete.

Then the next act would be from Maria Stark falling pregnant up to the events of the first Iron Man movie and will cross over with Pre-CA:WS, Agent Carter, and college! Tony Stark. Then the next and so on. I'm thinking there are at least 3 acts so far outlined. I'm undecided if it'll be Thanos compliant or not, because I've got some ideas about it but those movies made me cry a lot.

I really want to start posting it, but I'm terrified that I will never finish it if I do. I've already posted a couple of snippets from it though, they aren't huge plot spoilers and kind of work as a stand alone thing (I think anyway). If you wanna read them, you can find them here: x - or at my AO3 account.

Since it's done, I'll post the first 700 ish words of 'We'll Meet Again' - see what you think! It's mostly under the cut as this post is long enough. Feel free to ignore also though.

---------------

In hindsight, Grace had known getting attached was a bad idea. She found herself doing it anyway.

The fourth time she drags Steve Rodgers in from the alley behind the diner, grinning despite the way he swayed, unsteady on his feet with at least one of his eyes swollen shut, she knew it was too late.

“When are you going to learn Stevie? Maybe next time just walk away - y’know? Not everything is worth the fight.”

“Not an option” He grumbles stubbornly, wincing as she applies ice to his face. She knows it won’t be long before he slumps over the counter, the last of the adrenaline running out of his body.

Returning to New York felt inevitable. She loved the hustle and bustle of the streets, giving her enough anonymity to feel safe while still being around civilization enough to really feel alive. It had changed quite a bit since the last time she was there though. Tough times had fallen on the city, but if the news papers were to be believed, the depression would be over soon. Roosavelt’s New Deal seemed to be working.

The lunchtime rush comes and goes without Steve making much move to leave, other than coughing wetly against the crook of his elbow a few times. Grace glances up at the door as the bell chimes, locking eyes with the newest patron as he saunters in, heading straight towards her.

“Hey doll.”

Finding herself mimicking the boyish grin, Grace grabs a fresh mug off the bottom shelf and sets to making a fresh pot of coffee without prompting.

“Hey yourself. Come to pick up your stray?” She adds, inclining her head to Steve who doesn’t make any attempt to register his friend’s arrival.

“Oh boy.” Nodding with a grimace, James Barnes gently claps the smaller man’s shoulder. “Michaels said he thought he saw it on his way down to the Yard. I figured he’d show up here. Stevie? You okay pal?”

Grace pushes the cup of joe across the counter. “It’s on me. You’re gonna have to give him a few. It was a real doozy this time.” She adds, furrowing her brow.

James groans, taking the cup with a nod of thanks. He sounds exasperated. “Damnit Steve, why can’t you just leave it be just once. One time. That too much to ask?”

Steve slurs, his voice muffled. “Should’a seen t’other guy.”

With a scoff, he rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I bet.”

Catching his eye, Grace motions for James to follow her a few feet out of earshot. She casts a worried glance over to the hunched figure. “You best keep an eye on him tonight Buck. He was coughing up a storm not ten minutes ago.”

“Damn, I thought he was over that. He seemed a lot better last couple of days. Obviously well enough to pick a fight.”

“You’d think he’d learn huh?” She muses with a snort, admiring the fact Steve Rodgers would never change.

Huffing a laugh, he looks back to her arching a brow. “Good job he found you huh doc? – How is school?”

Reluctant to get into the details, she glances down to her feet. “Just swell. Six months or so left then it’s over. Thank God.” Grace sighs, wiping the coffee stains on the counter absently.

“You’ll do great.” He says encouragingly with a smile.

The corner of her mouth quirks up. Eager to change the subject, she narrows her eyes at him slightly. “Have you been lifting weights again?”

James’ grin grows wide as he puffs out his chest, not modest in the slightest. “Oh, noticed, did you? As a matter of fact, I’ve been training at Goldie’s Gym. Nice to know it’s been paying off.”

“Was mostly the smell, but sure thing.” Grace quips with a flash of a smile.

“It’s the fish.” Steve supplies dryly – his voice still muffled against the counter.

James’ face twists in mock offence. “Hey!”

The warmth Grace feels inside tells her that getting attached is definitely a bad idea, but it doesn’t stop her from laughing anyway.

[drcreatureflix]

More Family Content: Setting Up A Grimdark Campaign

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

Inspiration

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Session 0

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

1. What are your players okay with?

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

Are you okay with detail viseral descriptions of violence?

Are you okay with scenes of torture/depravity?

Are you okay with depictions of slavery or prostitution?

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

Are you okay with sacrifical death or occult themes?

Are you okay with swearing?

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

2. What is their motivation?

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

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

3. Understanding

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

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

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

[jimbotnik]

(Well fuck!)

🌺 - How much do you draw on personal experiences when roleplaying? 

Childhood trauma, disgust at society, self-destructive tendencies, mommy hated me :’( (not really, it’s complicated,) and that’s about all I can think of for now. Of course, his ideas of how society should be and mine are RADICALLY different. We both think that the accumulation of wealth for its own sake is disgusting though, so snaps for him I guess.

🍀 - How much do you think you have achieved with your blog? 

Well, I made a lot of people laugh, which is a polite way of saying that random passersby have mistaken frenetic behavior and humor for Crack RPing™ and swipe left.

Now that I’ve gotten that nagging complaint out of the way, let’s move on to some positive points! I’ve found a way to channel my weird, canon-divergent world-building, and sometimes people even like it. I’ve also had a chance to try and write a tragic backstory without explicitly or implicitly using it to justify Robotnik’s horrible bullshit. Whether or not I’m successful remains to be seen.

🌼 - Do you think you could ever stop roleplaying now? 

Lol no

🌻 - What do you do between replies?

Working and sleeping mostly. I also play Animal Crossing, though! If you want to visit/want to visit me then PM me with your friend code or something. OH! I’ve been playing Carrion too! I’m living the dream in that game... the carnivorous, tentacle-y, monster parasite dream.

🌸 - Have you ever been in a group? Would you do it again? 

I was in a group once, but it sucked. This might be because everyone there was creaming themselves for Dunmer and I was playing a Bosmer and a half-Reachman. Also, the forum was designed so that only ants can read it but only if they squint.

Maybe not all groups are like that! I dunno! Then again, I don’t know if I’d wanna be in the kind of group that’d take me in (an actual ship of fools, sailing down the river in the opposite direction of the plot.)

I guess I could try again. I’m willing to do that. HMU if you have a group you want me to join.

🌹  - Have you met true friends through roleplaying? 

YES. It happened in the Elder Scrolls community and it happened here. I have a loosely regulated server full of people I’ve met in this community. I’m tempted to drag someone kicking and screaming into it so they can be my friend too, but I don’t know if that’s a valid way of making new friends.

🍄 - What’s one bad habit you know you have in writing? 

I do this horrible bullshit where I try to write a long piece in chronological order, and therefore I attempt to force myself to write scenes that I either don’t want to write at the moment or haven’t fully developed. I also give up on things sometimes if I feel like I’m not getting enough validation; I forget that at the end of the day, I’m writing stories for myself.

🍁 - How do you want to explore your muse further? Is there a wishlist? 

Well, let’s see... I want to get into his desire to take over the world and his secret operations. He wanted that before Sonic came along and you all know it.

In his interactions with other characters, we’ve seen a new side to Robotnik’s emotional state (pre-Sonic, anyway) and he’s changing into a different person. He’s had opportunities and encounters that have indelibly change his life, possibly for the better. Robotnik hasn’t changed his worldview very much, and he still has the same life goals, but now he has to find a way to accomplish these goals without alienating the people that he’s now attached to in one way or another. I guess what I’m saying is that I want to see him implement his plans for world domination, or attempt to.

I want to do more post-Sonic RPing. I want him to interact with Mobians, and with Sonic himself. I’d like to get into how I think he escapes the Mushroom Planet, too.

I WANNA DO THE GODSLAYER AU TOO (not the one where he’s fighting God, the one that’s basically an Elder Scrolls crossover.) I also want to do a vampire AU thing because C’MON, who doesn’t like slutty vampires?? 

I’d love to get into his family a little more, and his people’s history, and his spiritual beliefs (conscious and unconscious.) He’s not an atheist. He comes from a world where what we consider to be magic happens all the time, and he knows that when he dies he will end up in the land of spirits beneath his people’s holy mountain...

CAN I DO SOME MORE WORLDBUILDING? PLEASE?? Do you guys wanna read paragraphs and paragraphs about a pretend culture and belief system? Huh???

💐 - Answer all of these!

I just did! Scroll up! >:(

[flightfoot]

Divergent Points: ML Salt Ch. 3

Alya has some of the worst salt thrown at her of everyone, and unlike with Marinette’s and Adrien’s chapters, it has so little basis in anything she actually does that there’s nothing for her to think on, to learn from it potentially. Alya bashing’s just blind hate, completely disconnected from Alya as a character. And Alya would be completely horrified at what Saltya’s made to do, because she would NEVER do most of the things depicted in saltfics.

 AO3/FFN

Alya glared at Marinette. She’d thought she was a decent person, but she’d shown her true colors once Lila’d arrived. Constantly picking on her, stealing her design ideas, and having the GALL to accuse Lila of lying, of being the thief. She’d always known Marinette was jealous, but daring to hurt Lila, daring to make false accusations towards her just because she couldn’t stand how special and amazing Lila was? How she’d been spending more time with Adrien?

Wait… something here didn’t seem right… did she really hate Marinette that much? She was her best friend…

Stomping over to her, she saw Marinette shrink down in her seat, as if afraid. Or ashamed. Which she should be. She wouldn’t even ADMIT to lying about Lila, much less get down on her hands and knees and apologize.

She didn’t want to see Marinette so scared. So small. It was WRONG. Why- why was she doing this? She didn’t understand!

“Stealing another design from Lila?” she snarled, taking pleasure in the way Marinette flinched back. Good. She knew who was in charge here. And what the price for her continued INSOLENCE was.

Smirking, she grabbed Marinette’s notebook out of her hands. Marinette frantically tried to grab it back, but Alya shoved her against the wall. Some of their classmates grabbed the notebook as it fell to the ground.

WHAT.

THIS WASN’T RIGHT THIS WASN’T RIGHT THIS WASN’T RIGHT.

She’d NEVER… NEVER do this.

She… she wasn’t VIOLENT. Even when Chloe got her suspended for merely taking a photo of her open locker, the MOST she did was stalk off. She would NEVER threaten her physically like that.

So why… why couldn’t she stop herself?! And why were these thoughts that WEREN’T HERS going through her head. WHY WAS THIS HAPPENING.

Marinette struggled against her hold, but Alya was too strong. “Just say it, Marinette. Admit that Lila was right. That you’ve just been going after her for the attention. That you’re just jealous. And stop copying her designs. Just admit how horrible you’ve been and never make a move against Lila again, and this can all be over.”

Tears flowed down Marinette’s face. “I- I- I can’t. She’s- she’s the one who stole it. And- and you’re just as bad!”

Oh, so now Marinette was trying to turn the tables on HER? Make HER look like the bad guy?

Fine. She’d BE the bad guy.

“Hey Nino? Tear out the most recent page of the sketchbook, would ya? We can give that back to Lila. As for the rest of it… I think it’s time to teach this bitch a lesson.”

That sketchbook was Marinette’s pride and joy. This… this was… NO. NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO.

De-destroying something she’d poured her heart and soul into? That was almost as bad – maybe even worse – than the assault!

It would be like someone destroying the Ladyblog, but with less chance of recovery.

THESE WEREN’T HER THOUGHTS OR ACTIONS.

SO WHY WAS HER BODY DOING THIS, WHY WAS HER MOUTH SPEAKING THESE WORDS, WHY WERE THESE THOUGHTS RUNNING THROUGH HER HEAD.

Expressionless, Nino put the sketchbook on the ground, opened the water bottle he’d stored in his backpack.

And began to pour.

“No… please… PLEASE!” Marinette begged, struggling and thrashing.

Alya took pleasure in the way the light drained from her eyes as she watched all her hard work be ruined before her eyes.

THIS. WASN’T. HER.

It was NOT real, she’d NEVER do this, would NEVER even think of this.

Something… something had taken over her body, some sick puppeteer.

Taken over the bodies and minds of her friends.

AND NO ONE ELSE REALIZED ANYTHING WAS WRONG.

Marinette kicked her.

IT WAS ON.

Roughly she grabbed Marinette by her hair, yanking her to the ground.

“You want to fight?” she hissed as Marinette attempted to get to her feet. “Then let’s fight.”

Alya raised her fist-

NO

The world shattered.