#i'm going to shove him in a locker and steal his lunch money

[kayoi1234]

Bad Fanfic Idea #3

I accidently made myself laugh at this so here: What if Kaveh, our favourite broke Architect who likes to make his food into miniture buildings because you know it’s Fun had like...no sense of taste. Like it’s just Gone. He eats something and tastes nothing because his tastebuds are so fucked top the point where he only really eats spicy food for the heat and not for the flavour.

It would be such a like..dumb thing. He never mentions it to anyone excpet maybe Tighnari who now has someone who doesn’t complain about how bitter medicine is. On the other hand Kaveh nearly gets food poisoning like three times a week because he can’t tell if food is off by taste he has to go by texture or smell but no taste often means smell is fucked too so he just exists in a sort of “I don’t fucking...I don’t fucking know”

Anyways this thought came to me because Alhaitham probably stole his drink or whatever and when Alhaitham said “This is good wine.” Kaveh could have had like a minute crisis of “Is...is it?” and then kind of just goes about his day.

Comes to head when Alhaitham asks him to try something (Dunno why if you’re a shipper then it’s courting if not then it’s just to bully Kaveh by finding out what he doesn’t like) and Kaveh just sitting here and saying “This game has a critical flaw in it,”

“What do you mean?”

“Alhaitham...I can’t taste.”

And like, as it turns out, Alhaitham didn’t even know, he just assumed Kaveh had like bizzare tolerances for food that he hadn’t found, because Alhaitham is the kind of person of high intelligence low wisdom and thinks Kaveh unironically liked that stinky tofu he got from a Liyue trader once to piss him off. So the exchange continues like “What do you mean you can’t taste?”  and Kaveh has to explain to him that it’s a whole thing and not a big deal let him eat his mug yogurt (Yogurt in a mug) in peace and Alhaitham is wondering what else is a lie.

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Great Hunt! Chapter 7: Blood Calls Blood

Spoiler warning: This post has spoilers for the entirety of The Wheel of Time. Beginning to end. Don't keep reading if that's a problem.

“But quite interesting,” Verin said. She had been the fourth Aes Sedai the Amyrlin had chosen for the work. “It is too bad we do not have the dagger so the Healing could be complete. For all we did tonight, he will not live long. Months, perhaps, at best.”

You could say it's bad luck for Siuan and Moiraine that this happened. Almost like they're around a ta'veren who manipulates probability like some kind of demented Homestuck character. Almost like they were making shit plans that necessitated bad luck so better things could happen.

He has been linked to the dagger a long time, however, as a thing like that must be reckoned. And he will be linked longer yet, whether it is found or not. He may already be changed beyond the reach of full Healing, even if no longer enough to contaminate others.

And yet - he's not! Lucky break.

Moiraine gave the Brown sister a wry look. Another danger confronts us, and she sounds as if it is a puzzle in a book. Light, the Browns truly are not aware of the world at all.

Verin: We can calculate exactly how existential the threat the remnants of Shadar Logoth are.

Moiraine: Give me your fucking lunch money, nerd! *shoves Verin into a locker ter'angreal*

Why is this Darkfriend important enough for them to risk what they did to rescue him? Much easier for them just to steal the Horn. Still risky as a winter gale in the Sea of Storms, coming into the very keep like that, but they compounded their risk to free this Darkfriend.

Poor Siuan doesn't even know the whole story about Fain being a Dragon Detector.

“What was written on the walls in the dungeon. There were few problems with translation. Most was the usual—blasphemy and boasting; Trollocs seem to know little else—but there was one part done in a better hand. An educated Darkfriend, or perhaps a Myrddraal. It could be only taunting, yet it has the form of poetry, or song, and the sound of prophecy. We know little of prophecies from the Shadow, Mother.”

We still know little! The Shadow somehow has prophecies made by isolated men and women, but we don't know how they gathered them or how they got secrecy to the point that basically only Moridin would know them by the end. Is Foretelling rare because the Shadow's better at finding people with the Talent before the Tower can (not hard since they're not looking)? Can it be induced in some traumatic way related to isolation? Do Dreadlords with Foretelling get put into seclusion to encourage Foretellings? So many questions.

Daughter of the Night, she walks again. The ancient war, she yet fights. Her new lover she seeks, who shall serve her and die, yet serve still. Who shall stand against her coming? The Shining Walls shall kneel.

I'll break this prophecy down stanza by stanza less the repetitive blood stuff (which means "The battle's never over, Rand al'Thor"). This one is about Lanfear, her return to the battle, and her attempts to win Rand over, but... that service stuff is hard to square. I'm going to say it's about how he tries to help her in this book, metaphorically dies during Veins of Gold and then tries to turn her back to the Light in the final book, working for her well-being in ways that she despises. Likewise, since Lanfear never actually gets to fuck with Tar Valon direclty, the kneeling is probably more about Moiraine bowing to the inevitable and taking her out to her own detriment.

The man who channels stands alone. He gives his friends for sacrifice. Two roads before him, one to death beyond dying, one to life eternal. Which will he choose? Which will he choose? What hand shelters? What hand slays?

Rand isn't alone yet, but by The Gathering Storm he'll have pushed everyone aside. He'll view his friends - particularly Lan - as pieces on the board to be sacrificed. The Shadow probably thinks the two roads before him are continuing the cycle or serving the Dark One respectively, but it's actually the case that the two roads are destroying existence or continuing the cycle. The hand imagery is harder to parse, though I'll suggest it's about Rand's metaphysical confusion during this process.

The Watchers wait on Toman’s Head. The seed of the Hammer burns the ancient tree. Death shall sow, and summer burn, before the Great Lord comes. Death shall reap, and bodies fail, before the Great Lord comes. Again the seed slays ancient wrong, before the Great Lord comes.

Skipping verse 3 (it's about Slayer and is painfully obvious). This is about the Seanchan coming to Falme, descendants of Luthair the Hammer. Summer does indeed burn before the Last Battle and there's lots of death and weird evil bubbles, but the last line doesn't come true thanks to Jordan wanting to do the Outriggers: at no point do the Seanchan slay any ancient wrong, let alone their own use of the a'dam. They don't even manage to kill a Forsaken.

“That would be something to worry us, Daughter,” the Amyrlin Seat said, “if it were true. But the Forsaken are still bound.” She glanced at Moiraine, looking troubled for an instant before she schooled her features. “Even if the seals are weakening, the Forsaken are still bound.”

Being locked out of the loop does come with some advantages if you're literally incapable of lying though. Good job on that, Moiraine.

Speaking of being incapable of doing stuff, it's fun that this doesn't count as betrayal on Verin's part. Like yeah, it was there for everyone to see so doing the translation isn't a problem, but interpreting is okay? She does keep herself to the obvious though.

Only one thing for certain was known of Lanfear beside the name: before she went over to the Shadow, before Lews Therin Telamon met Ilyena, Lanfear had been his lover. A complication we do not need.

You should have been counting on this, Moiraine. Even if the Last Battle coming didn't make you think that the Forsaken might get loose again, you just met Aginor and Balthamel a month ago. You should have assumed Lanfear would show up eventually.

“I don’t know, Mother. I doubt it, though. We know nothing at all of those lands Artur Hawkwing set out to conquer. It’s too bad the Sea Folk refuse to cross the Aryth Ocean. They say the Islands of the Dead lie on the other side. I wish I knew what they meant by that, but that accursed Sea Folk closemouthedness. . . .”

Maybe Verin's lying a little here. If she were the other Aes Sedai at the Social, she might well know about the Seanchan coming. But she might be legitimately be unaware, and I'm going to say that she is and wasn't at the Social anyway for reasons I'm getting to.

Also, I would love to know what happened to the Sea Folk that made them refuse to ever try to reach the Seanchan continent again. Based on the new map, I would expect that the "Isles of the Dead" are those not depicted at all on the old map, east of Seanchan's southeastern reaches and southwest of the most isolated Sea Folk isles.

“Then you believe it is not prophecy, Daughter?” “Now, ‘the ancient tree,’ ” Verin said, immersed in her own thoughts.

This is definitely Verin pretending to be dumb, avoiding answering a question that might betray her affiliation and idly speculating on what she doesn't know about so that she's not explicitly betraying shit.

“And of course,” Verin said calmly, “the man who channels must be one of the three young men traveling with you, Moiraine.”

Damn Verin, you do not fuck around.

Yes. Yes, I suppose I should. I hadn’t thought of that. But then, if I did, you would be stilled, Moiraine, and you, Mother, and the man gentled.

Sure Verin, you definitely didn't think about telling the other sisters. It was totally a theoretical exercise and you're just so good at your little thought experiments that as soon as Moiraine gave you new data about what you should be doing you deduced immediately what would happen and have a long screed about why that would suck for you personally.

If the other Ajahs didn't look down so much on the Brown they would have realized she was Black right there.

“It is unlikely,” Verin began, “that anyone who hasn’t studied the old records thoroughly would notice anything except that you were behaving oddly. Forgive me, Mother. It was nearly twenty years ago, with Tar Valon besieged, that I had my first clue, and that was only. . . .

"Basically I figured you bitches out the second Gitara died and I just was much too busy reading a really good ancient tome about how the unequal war damage to parts of the nation of Jaramide led to Abayan's comparative strength and forced Guaire Amalasan to focus his war efforts southward to give a shit about your nonsense and an infant messiah."

Perrin grimaced when he thought of that. Mat lay still, eyes closed, hands unmoving atop his blankets. He looked exhausted. Not sick really, but as if he had worked three days in the fields and only now laid down to rest. He smelled . . . wrong, though. It was nothing Perrin could put a name to. Just wrong.

Cool to know that wolf noses can scent metaphysics.

Serving women had found him sitting there in the dark, and one of the Lady Amalisa’s attendants, the Lady Timora. As soon as they came upon him, Timora sent one of the others running, and he had heard her say, “Find Liandrin Sedai! Quickly!”

Subtlety just doesn't exist in this universe, does it? And here Rand thinks that the alarm bells were all bad: better Mat suffer an unimportant injury than Perrin get dragged off by Liandrin and locked away in the Tower.

Perrin cleared his throat. Half the time he did not understand what women meant when they said things. Not like Rand. He always knows what to say to the girls.

She means that instead of using your broad shoulders, you should be using your hips. I mean... She's telling you not to fuck with Mat's recovery. Jeez Perrin.

The pause made his hackles rise. She was lying, somehow. Aes Sedai never lied, but they did not always tell the truth, either.

You'd think the Keeper of the Chronicles would be better at lying on the spot, but I guess healthcare related lies are really more something former members of the Yellow Ajah would be skilled in.

“They’re the only eyes I ever had,” he growled. He felt a little abashed, speaking to an Aes Sedai in that tone, but he was as surprised as she when he took her gently by the arms and lifted her to one side, setting her down again out of his way. As they stared at each other, he wondered if his eyes were as wide with shock as hers.

Perrin is out First Oathing an actual First Oather

Leane liked this moment a lot and I'm not judging her at all

He could not rid himself of the feeling that he should take the chance Moiraine had given him and leave immediately. The urge had been with him all night. Three times he had risen to go. Twice he had gone as far as opening the door. The halls had been empty except for a few servants doing late chores; the way had been clear. But he had to know.

Really just another bit of luck for all concerned that Mat got taken down by Fain. Again, if Rand had left Fal Dara and gotten outside of the general protection of an entire fortress city, he would have been kidnapped by Lanfear in seconds.

Suddenly Perrin scowled at the floor. “If you’re so interested, why haven’t you gone to see him yourself? I thought you were not interested in us anymore. You said you weren’t.”

I love it when people don't remember they're fighting until halfway through a conversation. Good on Perrin for calling Rand out.

Perrin did not answer. He just shucked off his coat and pulled his shirt off over his head. Rand studied his friend’s back for a moment...

*whistles innocently*

“If you want to make jokes with Aes Sedai,” Perrin broke in, “that’s up to you. My Lord.” He began stuffing his shirttail into his breeches. “I don’t spend much time being—witty; is that the word?—witty with Aes Sedai. But then, I’m only a clumsy blacksmith, and I might be in somebody’s way. My Lord.” Snatching his coat from the floor, he started for the door.

Perrin's really incredibly jealous that Rand is talking about how Leane was directly flirty with him and meanwhile of course if Rand had heard that he'd held her - even just in the context of pulling her out of the way - he'd have been incredibly jealous himself.

He paused, looking at Rand sideways. “You didn’t mean all that? We will leave here together? You, and me, and Mat?” “I can’t, Perrin. I can’t tell you why, but I really do have to go by myse—Perrin, wait!” The door slammed behind his friend.

Rand, think about it from Perrin's perspective. Something weird is up with him and he's not even comfortable talking about it. It's just one in a long series of traumatic events. Since then, you've been ducking out on everyone, constantly threatening to leave, and following Lan around like you've imprinted on him (because you have). Now you're just gonna up and ditch everyone and it kinda looks to Perrin like you're afraid of being around him because he doesn't know he should be afraid of being around you. Of course he's gonna be pissed at you for being a dick.

“You should have done that last night.” The Warder tossed a white silk shirt onto the bed. “No one refuses an audience with the Amyrlin Seat, sheepherder. Not the Lord Captain Commander of the Whitecloaks himself. Pedron Niall might spend the trip planning how to kill her, if he could do it and get away, but he would come.”

That would be a hilarious and fluffy fanfic.

“I know how, I think. I saw how the Queen’s Guards knelt to Queen Morgase.” The ghost of a smile touched the Warder’s lips. “Yes, you do it just as they did. That will give them something to think about.”

This is probably either immensely disrespectful or carries such an incorrect connotation as to be bizarre. You know what, I take what I said up there about imprinting back. It's the other way around; Lan's imprinted on Rand.

Rand frowned. “Why are you telling me this, Lan? You’re a Warder. You’re acting as if you are on my side.” “I am on your side, sheepherder. A little. Enough to help you a bit.”

If Rand had a good reason to ask it of him, Lan would slaughter everyone currently in Fal Dara without even to need to know the specifics.

“But why all this? What does it mean? Why do I put my hand over my heart if the Amyrlin Seat stands up? Why refuse anything but water—not that I want to eat a meal with her—then dribble some on the floor and say ‘The land thirsts’? And if she asks how old I am, why tell her how long it is since I was given the sword? I don’t understand half of what you’ve told me.”

I would also like to know these things. The first is clearly some kind of reference to the American pledge and the third clearly originated in the Trolloc Wars, but... why? What does it mean? Who wants to help me conduct a seance to haunt Robert Jordan beyond the grave and get some answers to these utterly trivial concerns?

From his pocket the Warder produced a long length of wide, fringed golden cord and tied it around Rand’s left arm in a complicated knot. On the knot he fastened a red-enameled pin, an eagle with its wings spread. “I had that made to give you, and now is as good a time as any. That will make them think.”

Lan really is a complete sweetheart of a man. Either he's using up his paltry Warder allowance for this or he totally leaned into the whole Malkier thing despite not liking it at all to get a favor. It's a shame he didn't try to get Moiraine to see Rand like he did, might have saved her a world of grief.

[godlizzza]

Prompt: more jealous Dan stuff please!!!

Dan had just about had it.

Ever since he and Herbert had moved into their little Chicago apartment, their next-door neighbour, Randall, had developed an obvious infatuation with Herbert. It had started on that first day, when Dan and Herbert had carted all their belongings up eight flights of stairs, Herbert grumbling and grousing the whole time. He'd objected to the apartment from the beginning, claiming it was too small and they'd have no space or privacy to work. Dan had talked him into it, assuring him it would only be a temporary place for them to reassess and plan their next move.

Then Randall had shown up with a welcome casserole and Dan had quickly begun to regret his decision.

He was a tall, gawky guy, his polo shirt tucked into his belted jeans. Something about the way he rolled the cuffs of his pants up, showing a strip of garish, patterned socks, and kept touching his hair as he jabbered away to a deadpanned Herbert, brought out the spirit of a teen bully inside Dan. He felt the urge to shove this guy into a locker and steal his lunch money. He was just such a...dork.

It didn't help that, for whatever reason, he'd taken an instant liking to Herbert. He was always making the most transparent excuses to drop by their apartment. First it was to ask Herbert if he needed anything--"I knew the old tenant and he'd complain all the time about this leaky pipe." Then it was to ask Herbert if he'd like to go for brunch sometime. Dan had even come home on one occasion to find Herbert and Randall sat at the dining table having coffee.

And that was the worst part of it. Herbert wasn't encouraging Randall but he wasn't discouraging him either. When he cornered him in the kitchen one day and questioned him about it, Herbert had been nonplussed.

"He's annoying but he's harmless enough," Herbert had shrugged. "Besides, he just gives me things. One has to take advantage where they can, Dan."

Then he'd kissed Dan on the cheek, patted his chest, and sauntered off. Dan supposed Herbert thought that was the end of it, but it wasn't the end for Dan.

He came home from work one day, exhausted after a twelve-hour shift, and stumbled to the fridge, hungry for a pudding cup. When he opened the door, however, he found himself blinking blearily at a casserole. He stared at the red porcelain dish and the half-eaten vegetable casserole within blankly for a few seconds before straightening up and closing the fridge. His hand remained clenched around the handle as Herbert walked into the room.

"Oh, you're home," Herbert said mildly, grabbing a cookie from the jar. "I didn't hear you come in."

Dan released the fridge and turned in time to catch Herbert around the waist. Herbert startled but allowed himself to be pulled to stand between Dan's feet. His hands went to Dan's chest as Dan held Herbert's hips. He peered down at Herbert, who stared, half the cookie bitten between his lips. Dan brushed his thumb just below Herbert's lip, disturbing some crumbs.

"Were you waiting up for me?" Dan murmured.

Herbert sucked the cookie into his mouth and made quick work of chewing and swallowing. Dan watched his throat bob.

"Well, yes-"

"Come on," Dan said, cutting him off. He pulled Herbert down the tiny hall by the hand, pushing the bedroom door open with his foot.

Herbert stumbled after him, eyes wide behind his glasses. "I thought you'd be tired."

Dan pushed him onto the bed and crawled over him, already tugging at Herbert's buttons. "I'm not tired. In fact, I feel totally energised."

He swooped down, sealing their mouths together and swallowing the pleased moan Herbert made.

Dan fucked Herbert hard into the mattress that night. He fucked him so hard the headboard was slapping against the wall in time with Herbert's cries. Dan had made a point to be loud himself, mixing Herbert's name in with rambling, crude dirty talk. He'd usually be embarrassed at some of the things he'd said, but when one was putting on a show, they had to put such reservations aside.

Interestingly, Randall stopped coming around after that. Dan wondered if it had anything to do with the bedroom wall they shared with him. It really was remarkably thin.

He smiled to himself as he ate vegetable casserole leftovers straight from the red porcelain dish.

[sithwitch13]

Ring Of Honor: Final Battle

Starting off with Jazmin Allure vs Taya Valkyrie! WOMEN.

I kind of want Taya's coat.

Me to @weareallkosh :"Yes, there are still Von Erichs left."

THEY DID THE THING

BRYAN FUCKING KEITH!!!!

Jack Cartwheel is also fun but BRYAN KEITH!!!

Garcia back in the longboys

Yay Blake Christian! I'm still so amused by the difference between his RoH and GCW personas.

Bonus Eddie match!

Shit yes, starting off with Vikingo vs Black Taurus. This match is gonna look like something from a TTRPG in terms of both outfits and improbable coolness.

I've been screaming for this entire match, what the fuck

I wandered off to do dishes during Mogul Embassy vs TMDK

Let's go Ethan!

Ethan has won the First Blood of the Evening award

I do love the drama of an I Quit match. They're basically whump fanfics.

SCORPIO SKY RETURNS TO SAVE HIS FRIEND

ETHAN SAID THE FUCK WORD

NYLA FUCK YES

Bryan Keith or Dalton Castle need to win, otherwise I'm going to steal Tony Khan's lunch money and shove him in a locker

WATCH YOUR LUNCH MONEY YOU DORK

...okay, that was actually a really awesome ending and I guess Tony Khan can keep his lunch money for the moment.

Lawlor looked great.

Hook gonna have to punch Yuta for being a jerk

MEAT

Orange Cassidy vs Bryan Keith tomorrow, I'm gonna cry

This match is probably gonna make me emotional, huh

Mark like "LOOK HE WAS MY BROTHER SO I MAKE THE RULES AND WE'RE GONNA KEEP TRYING TO MURDER EACH OTHER" bless this man

This was already good and now it's forking good

I was dry eyed and then Mark pinned Danielson and now I'm weeping

Eddie time!

ATHENA VS BILLIE TIME FUCK YEAH

I'm so torn, I want Athena to win, but also how can you not root for Billie?

I will forever love Athena for being one if the reasons I got back into wrestling, but Billie was amazing. This story is so good. Her future is going to be amazing.

[churchyardgrim]

I, STRAHD: THE WAR AGAINST AZALIN by P.N. Elrod

[intro post]

OH GLORY OF GLORIES, SOMEONE COMPETENT 

going from the embarrassment that was Tower of Doom directly to this is a hell of an experience lemme tell you, one i can only describe as overwhelming relief

what makes matters even better is that, well, you remember that bit i complained about in King of the Dead? where they just kinda glossed over Azalin's whole half-century of cohabitation with everyone's favorite dracula? buckle up kiddies bc this whole book is about that

it's beautiful, it had me howling with laughter in a goddamn subaru dealership while my winter tires were getting changed over, everyone needs to read this immediately

so we open with Strahd being the most dramatic motherfucker in the grocery store, literally flinging himself off a mountain while howling his rage at the sky itself, bc Whoops, Tatyana's Dead Again

and then a week later he gets up off the ground like “ok i’m normal now”, and the book goes on to explain how he's gotten used to Barovia's still relatively new position in the mists. people do not leave. sometimes people enter! no one, not even the travelers, understand how this is done, and it pisses Strahd off. he is rattling the bars of his cage to be let out.

he has also made his famous deal with the Vistani, the only people who do have any degree of mobility between Barovia and the rest of the world; they enjoy a measure of safety from him and his agents, and in return act as his spies and limited servitors. he is also warned via a card reading that a powerful opposing figure approaches, and brings inevitable war

in any other story, this would be Our Designated Hero, Who Will Surely Triumph

i think by now you all can guess that this is not the case

and of course, a few years later, Strahd gets wind of Someone New harassing his nobles and making off with a rare magical book, to which he responds "excuse me, no, only i'm allowed to do that" and tracks the interloper to an abandoned manner house in the south of the country

it's at this point that i'd like to thank the author for the glorious image of Strahd getting just fuckign bug-zapped out of the air by the wards around this place so hard he hits a tree and straight up falls out of bat form. istg for all the work the game modules do to make Strahd into the ultimate big bad of the setting, unkillable and invincible, the man sure does spend a lot of time in these novels just getting the shit kicked out of him. it's beautiful and i want every minute of it framed on my wall. i wanna shove him in a locker and steal his lunch money.

anyway, as if the title of the goddamn book didn't give this away, this is where our buddy and pal Azalin Rex enters the scene! recently landed in Barovia, annoyed by literally everything but especially how he can't seem to memorize whatever spell's in that book he stole, damn thing must be broken i swear, and caked in so many illusions that it takes Strahd ten minutes to figure out there's Something going on under all that instagram contouring.

these two hit it off, well… less like a house on fire and more like a house being crushed by a glacier; icy and immovable and probably very worrisome to the neighbors down the street. they're instant bitchy exes, strangers to kismesises speedrun, they hate each other so much because they are so, so similar

Azalin is a king without a kingdom, prickly and a lil bit insecure and unsure of where he's landed and who this weird goth is and whether or not he should apply fireball directly to the problem yet. Strahd is 500% on edge, knowing full well that this is the fated necromancer he was warned about, and is in the process of sussing out exactly how worried he should be. the answer: very!

correctly surmising that this guy can turn him inside-out if he wanted to, and that Azalin is also a fellow Royal Personality and thus might feel motivated to cover his insecurities by yoinking rule of Barovia out from under Strahd's dainty lil goth boy boots, Strahd thinks very fast and manages to trap his new houseguest in a nonaggression pact of hospitality. Azalin is his guest, however unwillingly, and there are rules a guest and a host must observe with each other dammit.

and thus did two undead bastards become study buddies. neither of them like being stuck here, and Azalin doesn't have the distraction of hunting down the reincarnations of a girl he knew in high school. he's a better wizard than Strahd is at this point, too, of which Strahd is keenly aware, and between the two of them they're confident they can blow this popsicle stand within six months

they're there for forty years

to summarize a lot of slow-moving plot, Strahd does his new roomie the favor of restoring that old manner house he'd found him in into a proper wizard's lab, and by the time the renovations are finished Strahd wants Azalin out of he got damn house so fuckign badly, i love it

Azalin knows Strahd's nature well enough, but has managed to keep his own a secret in addition to his fun new curse of being unable to learn any new magic from this point forward. this manifests in the infuriating habit of having Strahd do a lot of the magical gruntwork with testing new escape spells, and good god it's like they're tenured professors arguing over whose turn it is to supervise the interns, it's delightful

eventually they make their first proper attempt, something something summer solstice, combining a translocation with a summoning, it's not important. what is important is it blows up spectacularly and is genuinely one of the funniest points in the book i shit you not

Strahd barely avoids getting atomized, employing the age-old tactic of Hiding Behind Something While The Fireworks Go Off, and when he finally picks himself back up and stops being crosseyed, he just looks at Azalin's desiccated husk of a body splatted across a wall and says "well fuck, that killed him extra dead didn't it"

and then when Azzie starts moving again Strahd briefly remembers what having a functioning lower intestine feels like bc "oh shit oh fuck he was like that the whole time, abort, ABORT, HE'S A FUCKMOTHERING LICH" and then just. plays dead.

he lies down on the goddamn floor and prays Azalin didn't notice that he saw him with his pants i mean illusions off.

i swear to you, dear reader, i had to put the book down and try to remember how to breathe for a solid twenty minutes

anyway Strahd's fakeout somehow works, and they immediately start bickering over whose fault this shitshow was, which provides more than enough cover for Strahd to Fuckign Book It and go triple his own magical defenses, and also have a delightful lil panic attack

i maintain that P.N. Elrod is butch as all hell, by virtue of no one but butches understand masculinity well enough to satirize it this beautifully. she manages to convey Strahd's "i'm not panicking, you're panicking" with this delightfully wry tone that i can't get enough of, and i fully intend to track down her other non-Ravenloft vampire novels once my brain loosens its vicegrip on this setting, bc by god i need more of her voice in my life

we're about halfway through now, and it's at this point that things start Happening in the wider world. namely, that there is suddenly a wider world for things to be Happening in. for about two hundred years at this point, Barovia has been totally isolated by the mists, and most ppl have just gotten used to this, barring a pair of geriatric wizards who keep trying to give spacetime what-for.

but now! all of a sudden! there's another country just. attached to the southwest end of Barovia like a malignant growth.

what's a local vampire lord to do? apparently commandeer a few of the refugees fleeing said new country to go show him where the fuck they came from, is what.

tragically Strahd still can't physically leave the bounds of his own country, mists or no mists, but he can mindcontrol a dude to go back in and have a look around for him. long story short, this new place is Forlorn and it is uhhhhh largely empty! just a bunch of weird magical mutants, and some hermits who aren't too jazzed about said weird magical mutants, and who all move into Barovia within a few months of the two nations sharing a border. 

this provides our two best buddies plenty of new study material, as do the next seven or so new countries that appear periodically like weird geographic parasites grafting themselves onto Barovia's decreasingly misty borders. Azalin can actually leave Barovia, which he's extremely smug about for the twelve minutes before Forlorn physically flings him back over the line in a pinwheel of stuffy robes and flailing knobbly legs, and boy i hope Strahd got a good knee-slapping laugh out of that bc god knows i sure did

the appearances of new lands culminates in Azalin's disappearance from Strahd's radar, and the emergence of his largest neighbor yet: Darkon. using his favorite remote-viewing magical scrying drone trick, Strahd starts sniffing around and is immediately yanked by the collar on a flash tour of the place, ending in the throne room of Castle Avernus, because if anyone knows how to cultivate an impression, it's Azalin Fucking Rex

yes after forty years of bumming around Strahd's backyard, Azalin has a shiny new gilded cage of his very own! congrats buddy, ur still stuck here like the rest of us. but at least ur not rubbing shoulders with that guy anymore.

unfortunately for Azalin's dramatic sense, Strahd is a) not physically there to intimidate, and b) an expert in the art of Not Being Impressed With Your Shit, so the dramatic tension lasts about five minutes before they're back to jabbing at each others' insecurities in the best long-distance shouting match i've ever seen

seriously they should televise this shit, sell tickets, they'd make a fortune

so far the titular War Against Azalin is less of a war and more of an Ongoing Domestic Dispute With Azalin, but the instant their bargain of hospitality is no longer required, that's when that forty year cold war goes real fucken hot

it's a bit of an anticlimax really. you'd think, being undead archmages, these two would fight like wizards and just hurl lightning and rocks and Spell Of Fuck You at each other over the borders, but instead they just… chuck some zombies at some dudes in armor and call it a day

military commander habits die hard i suppose

Strahd's in a bit of a genuine pickle actually, his noble caste have had two hundred years to get lazy and indolent, and he has to do a whole "I'll Make A Man Out Of You" montage to get them into fighting shape. but Azalin keeps handicapping himself by executing half his most effective lieutenants bc they don't agree with his pizza topping preferences or whatever, so Strahd gets to feel smug about being able to actually retain the loyalty of his people on his own

granted, it's not hard to be more charismatic than a bog mummy that got lost on a tour through the beef jerky factory, but still

we end on a narrow battle victory for Strahd, leaving Azalin to spend a few years rebuilding his forces out of corpses and whatever new talent he can scrape up, and having set the stage very effectively for the hundreds of years of conflict between Barovia and Darkon to come. the resentful roommates have become the viciously estranged exes, and nowhere in the dread domains will know peace ever again. 

tragically they will never really come to physical blows in the spectacular wizard fight way i really want them to, bc neither of them can leave their respective houses here, but u know what i think i can live with the kind of needlessly convoluted machinations guys like that come up with in order to fight proxy wars via soldiers and agents and all the tools of statecraft at their disposal. 

it's just. god i love this book. i love watching bitchy old men be bitchy at each other, i love how deep the world feels despite experiencing it through the viewpoints of two guys who have to share Ebeneezer Scrooge's allotment of goodwill, i love the tiny sprinklings of vampire horniness and lich avarice, i love it i love it i love it

absolutely track this book down if you can, or listen to the audiobook as it'll likely be a lot cheaper. if you need me i’ll be rereading Vampire of the Mists for old time’s sake, and also wallpapering my house in pdfs of the Ravenloft Gazetteers bc did u know there’s fuckign travelogues published for these places? with sneaky metaplot about Azalin and his many many kids i mean clones? holy shit yall.

[childish-ish]

kismet

pairing: michael myers x reader

soulmate au; soulmates that make choices for each other.

part two!

"Bro. I got this bitch ass pimple on my face - what should I do?"

soulmate chooses: let it do it's thing.

"What a bitch. When i meet my soulmate I'm gonna fucking punch 'em in the fucking neck." You sigh, then snicker right after - "If i can even reach them."

Usually, you start off your day with a huge huff of cocaine and a box of Kelloggs™ cereal with the milk with the purple lid. Just kidding! You don't eat Kelloggs, instead, you eat Lucky Charms! Mostly for the marshmellows. Anyways.

You get dressed. Having been naked and looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror, contemplating on whether popping the 3 pimples on your face - one above your eyebrow, very - not visible. Another on your cheekbone - the other on your nose. You popped the one on your nose and washed your face, yesterday, so two pimples.

Anyways. You dress in regular jeans, pull over a plain grey t-shirt over your head, and slip on some socks, then your sneakers, then a hoodie. You checked over yourself and decide you look hot as fuck, and step to your bed, pull off your phone from your charger, shove that bitch in your pocket - and leave.

soulmate chooses: take a bus to school.

"Awh! They care about me <33."

"Hm." You look over the choices you get to pick - buy a donut or have a balanced breakfast.

"Haha!" You laugh, clicking on the 'balanced breakfast'. "Homeboy gonna eat good tonight. Whether they fucking like it or not."

You exit your home, keys in your pocket, and a lollipop in your mouth. You totally forgot to the brush your teeth, but gurgled some mouthwash hoping it would be enough.

You jog towards the bus, enter said bus, and sat next to your friend.

"Hey, kiddo." She waved. Neon pink hair clashed with black hair as it fell over her left blue eye, a major contrast to her paper white skin. She wore a black hoodie with some red symbol, something to do with creepypasta, black pants with large rips, fishnet tights under, and regular ol converse. Red, to be exact. Converse Chucks, to be exact.

"Shut the fuck up, don't call me that." You pull out your phone and lean down, entering your password as the bus begun to move.

"Ah, babygirl, you know that turns me on, aha - " She bites her lip and rubs her hand together like she was rubbing in hand sanitizer.

"Ah, right. I love you."

"Ew." Cheesebird laughed. Some random ass nickname you gave her because she didn't like her name.

soulmate chooses; go to classes

"Ugh." You roll your eyes - had thought about skipping class.

You look over your choices. steal a car, or walk.

Well. You don't want your soulmates feet to hurt.. so. Steal a car.

After the bus pulls up to the school, you exit with Cheesebird. You're a Senior in highschool.

You enter first period. Homeroom.

You sit in your assigned seat, thankfully, next to Cheesebird. You two discreetly passed notes, never getting caught - only once by a substitute.

"Hey, so, i know a neat place to go trick-or-treating. You up for it?" Cheesebird asked, placing her Gir themed backpack next to her feet, under the piss yellow desk -

You shrug. The day carrying on, kind've. You're in fourth period. Gym, when Cheesebird asked you the question again.

"Honestly, I'm thinking of starting in tonight. I have this fucking weird ass bad feeling.." You rub your bare arms, feeling unusually comfortable in the red booty shorts the gym made you wear.

"I can respect that. After i get all my candy, I'm gonna dip over to your house, is that okay?" Cheesebird asked, fiddling with a lollipop stick. She ate the lollipop already, stealing it from someone's backpack because of her soulmates choice - so the stick acted as a candy cigarette of some sort.

"Yeah, that's chill. What are you gonna be?" You swing your legs back and forth. Ankles crashing against the bleachers, giving you a dull pain.

"I'm gonna be a goblin. You know, if i were to guess what you were going to be, you would be a fucking astomi. Cause like, I'm gonna be a goblin.. and you're basically a goblin.. and i don't like talking.. except like, with you." Cheesebird explained awkwardly. She begun to chew on her lollipop stick.

"Yeah, i got it." You chuckle.

soulmate chooses: apple, water, and chicken nuggets.

"Oh, sick." You nodded.

"Oh, did your soulmate choose something? What was chosen your majesty?" Cheesebird asked.

"I got chicken nuggets for lunch. Want them?" You ask, looking over the freshmen that chose to play volleyball on one side, and basketball on the other.

You turn to Cheesebird, watching her eyes peek up.

Her eyes flick to you, and she nods with a smile, "Thanks bro!"

"Ah, yeah." You breathe, "No problem."

You look over your choices. clever or chef's knife.

You make a look, furrowing your eyebrows and jerking your head back slightly before choosing chef's knife.

"Another? What'd you choose?"

"My choices were clever or chef's knife." You tell her with confidence.

"Holy shit - your soulmate is a cooker! Lucky.. mines a fucking idiot."

You snort. "Lucky you.. mine could also be a murderer." You shrug.

"Hot." Cheesebird wiggles her eyebrows at you. "Oh, dude! Remember that guy - Boogeyman of Haddonfield?"

"Yeah."

"Dude, they say he escaped some institution! They might cancel Halloween cause of his bitch-ass." Cheesebird rolled her eyes and leaned back.

"Ah, what a fuck. If it actually gets cancelled, you wanna come over and watch some movies? Maybe order some pizza?" You offer.

"Oh fuck yeah man! Thanks." Cheesebird laughed, clapping you on the shoulder once.

"No problem!" You say enthusiastically, punching Cheesebird on her bare upper arm.

"Ow! Fuck.. you whore." Cheesebird sucked in a breath.

You laugh, quieting down and patting ehr on the thigh. "Wanna go to the lockers? It's almost time to go. Like, 15 more minutes.." You say absentmindedly, gazing at the red blinking numbers.

"Oh yeah. Let's go." Cheesebird was ready to hop off. You count down to 3 to 1 and jump off the bleachers with Cheesebird, jogging across the court and entering the locker room.

soulmate chooses: wash face

I didn't even do shit, though? You shrug off the thoughts and get undressed after putting in the combination for your little locker. After shoving your gym clothes into said locker, you pull on your clothes, slipping on your shoes easily and picking up your backpack. You jog over to the bathrooms, go to the nearest sink, and splash your face.

You look up - the choices; grab a water or get a beer.

You choose water. Gotta stay healthy.

You wait by the gym doors for Cheesebird. And, hooray! She comes. Don't take that out of context.

Lunch speeds by. So do your classes. After school, you walk home with Cheesebird and say your goodbyes. You pull out your keys, inserting the key and unlocking the door.

You enter, closing the door behind you. You toss the keys on the stand next to the door and kick off your shoes, throwing off your backpack and jogging to the living room. You recieve a call from your mom. Saying that she was gonna be late. Maybe coming in around midnight or even later.

soulmate chooses: order pizza.

"hey cool."

And, you do just that. You call some pizza place with breadsticks, grab some money from your room and jog back downstairs. You watch Adam Sandler movies while you wait for the pizza.

The doorbell rings after 15 minutes of waiting. You jump up and run to the door. Opening it and seeing a cute pizza boy.

"Thanks." He salutes, recieving a tip from you.

You call back a 'no problem' and shut the door, placing the pizza on the table in front of the couch. You lie down, pulling a blanket over you.

soulmate chooses: take a nap.

You feel so.. tired now. Fuck it. Let's go to sl-

You awake. The T.V. off, lights out, and warm-ish pizza. You were obviously disoriented. You go to pull out your phone from your back pocket once you sit up.

The brightness blinds you - you quickly put it at a lower brightness.

You yawn, vision vlurry before it subsides and you quickly look over your notifications. A text from your mom 'hey honey, gona b stayin l8r than usual luv u'. You smile, rubbing your eyes and holding your phone with one hand.

You stand, flashing your flashlight. You drop your phone - gazing at the large figure in front of you.

"Who.. are you?" You take an anxious step back, you can feel a stream of cold sweat stream down the side of your head - from your temple. It was fucking disgusting. So.. so dark.

You see the glint from his hand - a knife. A knife. A knife. A knife. He has a knife. He has a knife. He has a knife. Run. Go. Run. Go. Go. Through the backdoor. Now. Fucking GO!

You turn on your heel and bolt through the living room and through the kitchen. Why did you even fucking ask that? 'Who are you' - like?? You don't know him, and he's in your house. Like?? You should've just pulled a knife. Just kidding! You would've been too fucking pussy to do that :\

You inhale and exhale heavily - otherwise known as breathing. You were really close to hyperventilating - but somehow, you slow down your breaths as you quietly slip through the backdoor.

All you wanted to do - you sob in your mind, was eat some fucking pizza - you heave, as you shuffle towards the backyard entrance, that lead to the front yard. And maybe watch some fucking pornhub.. all my plans.. ruined.

soulmate chooses: go back inside your house.

You choke. Eyes growing uncomfortably hot, your bottom jaw trembled as you clench your arms, hugging yourself. Was this - this fucking stalker your soulmate?

You did have control of your body as you calmly walk back through the gate. Your eyes well up, tears blurring your vision. You wipe the tears away and wipe them on your hoodie harshly. You trace therock trail that lead around the corner of your home.

You enter through the backdoor. Closing it behind you gently. You huff, and turn around.

You immediately make eye contact with large breasts that were covered by a dark blue fabric. A zipper in the middle and a single pocket.

"So.." You begin; voice cracking. You feel your face grow hot out of embarrassment. After clearing your throat and looking into the black holes of the mask that mocked a human face, covering the whole ass fuckin head of the tall, buff male, you instantly feel small. You rub your hands together, clenching your hoodie in your hands now.

"Uh.. what's uh - what's your name?" You come to a realization of how fucking stupid that was. Asking a large scary man what his name was - he's your soulmate! A part of you pleaded for some reason. Anyways, we live for the confidence.

You gawk at the man - wasn't he "Michael Myers? Killed - killed.. four teens back in -" you couldn't remember the year. All you could honestly think about the man that was looming over you threateningly. Where the FUCK was your mom?!?

He painstakingly slowly brought up a hand, and dropped it onto your shoulder. You feel tears well up in your eyes once more as you shake under his hold.

"H - hey.. aren't we uh.. soulmates? Sh - should you really be h - HOLDING me that tight?!" You squeak, now trying to pull away. "I'm - not fucking going anywhere - "

The Boogeyman brought up his other hand and let the hand fall on your other shoulder, the hold gradually getting tighter.

You could barely see his actual eyes, due to the not-so-bright moonlight. Despite this, you see some irises..

"I - i.. I go to school.. " You blurt, "I - I have a f - family."

He didn't respond. You get anxious quite quickly due to the circumstances. You feel your eyes well up as he fucking gripe you tighter before picking you up and throwing you over your shoulder like a dead body. His actions were clear - they said 'you aren't fucking getting away'.

He held you with one arm, caging you in over his shoulder. You sob softly, but couldn't help but admire his nice ass as he walked towards the front door.

what's to become of me?

You thought. You couldn't scream - could you?

You couldn't believe you missed Halloween for this shit. You could still see some kids - they would probably run away due to their fragility.

Fuck this. We are not fucking dying. We're soulmates. But what kind of fucking soulmates does this shit? I wish my soulmate was Adam Sandler.

michael: you the bitch thats been making HEALTHY decisions for me??

you: no..?

[unnamed-atlas]

I have a love hate relationship with Vinnie Everyman cause I look at him and I'm like. This man is sad and pathetic. I don’t think I'd be any better in his situation. He is fucked up and evil. I think he should get to be worse. I want to shove him in a locker and steal his lunch money. Oh my god he is so me. He is lame and has no swag. I am going to steal his gender. His story is incredibly tragic. Oh my god! blorbo from my shows!!!

[queenoftheblackpuddlexoxo]

Me, talking about someone I'm crushing on and admire and respect greatly: I'm going to just fucking shove him into a locker and steal his lunch money.