#on crusades whenever it personally fits them

[huccimermaidshirts]

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[ewingstan]

Figuring out what dnd class each undersider is can be fun enough. But we can get sillier with it. I propose that we instead start arguing about which playbook each undersider would be as characters in a game of Most Trusted Advisors by @thehorizonmachine.

The game is about rollplaying a group of rich assholes on a monarch's privy council: enacting overly complicated schemes, trying to appease your liege's insane whims, and attempting to avoid getting killed by the inquisition. Characters get a list of privileges they can do for free as well as actions that give them points (ducats) determined by what tropes their playbook is riffing off of—for instance, the treacherous Blackguard can always "emerge from the shadows" or "sharpen their knife meaningfully", and gets a ducat whenever they make an overcomplicated plan or wear a terrible disguise. Its terrific fun, and my go-to game for oneshots. Y'all should play it. Lets imagine if we forced these fuckers into it.

Brian

While the "no fun allowed" aspect of his later characterization tends towards the Hierophant, I'd say given how he's both the most practical and most mercenary undersider, The Treasurer is the best choice.

The Treasurer's whole thing is combining a get-rich-quick schemer with the long-suffering voice-of-reason archetype, and that fits Brian "trying to be a responsible older brother in a financially stable position by punching twelve year olds" Laborn perfectly. The Treasurer "can always freely roll his eyes at tomfoolery" (Brian trying-to-hard-to-be-a-parent Laborn), gets a ducat when he "runs into someone who drives [him] insane and tells the table why" (Brian introduces-shadowstalker-as-a-problem Laborn) and gets a ducat when he "personally suffers as the result of another players scheming" (Brian suffered-more-than-Christ Laborn). Give him points in Skulk and Shadow and some titles that help with combat to complement his powers and background, and you have Duke Brien the Gruesome of House Laborn, Royal Treasurer, Knight Marischal, Seneschal to the Royal Household, and Adeptus Major of the Hermetic Order.

Aisha

While the Blackguard's whole assassin-in-the-shadows thing is a pretty good match for Imp's powers, I feel like I'd be doing her a disservice giving her anyone but The Alchemist. Its the playbook that's all about being a weirdo court wizard who may or may not have actual magic, but who will definitely try to convince you that speaking to them before 10 AM risks unleashing one of the daemon's they've binded to help serve the kingdom.

The Alchemist is archetypically most similar to a Tinker (Leet is definetly in the Hermetic Order), but the playbook's abilities to cause small unexplained mischiefs and make people question themselves certainly lends itself well to a Stranger. Their privilege to "spout obscure technical jargon" fits with her determination to get good at literary reference-based one-liners, and their ability to declare people cursed fits well with her crusade to scare off/torture to the point of suicide any enemies or would-be despots. The playbook's tendency towards unexplained occult behavior seems in line with Aisha making dolls of Alec to keep around all the time. Also being incentivized to "egregiously violate a moral, religious, or cultural taboo" is just part of being a youngest child. I'm open to other choices, but Madame A'Ishah the Improbable of House Vasil, Royal Alchemist, Queen's Chemist, Archsorcerer, and Master of the Castle Ravens feels like a winner to me.

Alec

The Blackguard looks like it would fit with its focus on snide comments and bad lies, and The Alchemist would potentially justify his powers while satifying Alec's whole "rude bitch who only half knows/cares how to fit into polite society" thing. But I'm gonna take the wildcard option and fit him in as The Lover.

The romantic "let them eat cake" figure might not seem a great match for Mr. Vasil (ooh weird feel no not calling him that again), yet nevertheless there's a lot of fun tragic irony to be wrung out of it. Have the former Heartbroken who dies before his odd little situationship with Aisha can become anything be the loverboy, it'll be barrels of fun.

The playbook starts with a high Appease score, which you'd have to have coming out of the Vasil household. They're incentivized to "share a moment of physical or emotional intimacy with someone," and while Alec probably wouldn't seek out such a moment, God does he need to have some intimacy he isn't forcing someone to give him. They have an option to take a title that lets them release angry swans whenever they want to, I know that's not really related to anything Alec can do in canon but c'mon he'd love that. They get a ducat whenever they "say something insensitive without meaning it to be" which is pretty much his and Taylor's whole relationship. The playbook's theming fits the "I'm disconnected from all this and not taking it as seriously as you think I should" thing that he's trying to project with his costume, and as a result the aesthetics are a natural match. Honestly you probably wouldn't need to change him from how he dresses in canon. Maybe put him in one of those fancy Victorian nightgowns iota draws him in. Convergent evolution.

Also I think the "You can always coquettishly bat your eyelashes at someone" privilege just fits. Dollboys can have coquettishly long eyelashes to bat at people. Prince-Consort Alexander the Hijink-Prone of House Vasil, Royal Lover, Court Jester, Keeper of the Swans, and Junior Karian Dynast is ready to take a depression nap lounge luxuriously while his fellow councilors make their plans.

Rachel

A natural fit for The Marshal, the overly aggressive general. While the playbook is meant more for a proud and hawkish thumb of a person (think TF2's Soldier) than a traumatized and paranoid homeless girl, there's more than enough overlap to make the match. I could just list off the actions that give the Marshall a ducat:

"Run into someone you wounded in a duel, and tell the table why": has taken a chunk of nearly every hero in the bay

"Walk directly into danger, knowingly and fearlessly": walking into Khepri's field of influence because she trusts her too much

"Kill or maim one of your enemies in a fair fight" see point one

"Overcomplicate a simple plan by going in all guns blazing": does not like plans more complicated than "point your dogs at the problem"

"Overreact massively to a perceived slight on your honour": literally the first thing she does on-page

Overall, I feel pretty confident in my pick for Marchioness Raquel the Bitchin' of House Lindt, Royal Marshal, Knight of the Order, Commander of the Hussars, and Member of the Equestrian Order.

Lisa

A bit trickier to narrow down. I could see an argument for how she's fits in as an Alchemist; the ability to spend a ducat to have a vision fits with her powers, and she certainly lives her life as if she gets a ducat whenever she "egregiously violates a moral religious, or cultural taboo." And by Ward she might have been long-suffering long enough to be a Treasurer, which would fit in with her tendency to manage everything.

But ultimately it comes down to the tropes she's playing off of, and she seems much more like a reconstruction of the duplicitous-second-to-the-big-bad archetype that The Blackguard is based on than anything else. She's certainly making frequent use of that playbook's "disparage someone's intelligence" and "announce 'I have a cunning plan!' " privileges. The Blackguard's ability to spend a ducat to learn a secret is probably the closest we could get to her powers (coupled with some more titles that let the players learn shit they shouldn't know), and its abilities related to thin disguises works well with Lisa's whole "subsumed by the mask, nothing behind it she's just a collection of masks" thing. Give her more points in Survey and Disdain and Baroness Elisabethe the Tale-Teller of House Wilbourn, Royal Blackguard, Postmaster General, Lord Spymaster, and certainly not Silent Watcher of the Skychamber is ready for a day at court.

Taylor

On the one hand, her tendency to be much more judgy than the other undersiders suggests The Hierophant. And maybe that would work if I was specifically making Weaver. But for the Warlord of the Boardwalks I actually think I'm going to assign her The Liege: the GM-equivalent who plays the monarch the rest of the players are advising/serving the whims of. They're the one whose "the lynchpin of the story, the instigator and motivating factor for everything that happens," and if there's one thing about Taylor its that she's very good at making herself a lynchpin. Also the book advises the GM/Liege to "cause new problems and to complicate simple situations," and that seems like a pretty good way to describe Taylor's tenure as an Undersider. Admittedly, she might not fit the suggestion that "your Liege should be the least qualified person for the job in the realm, perhaps the world," but nonetheless. Have her play either as a Have-at-Them or a Powder-Keg and you're ready to give the Royal Council the headache of their lives. "Queen Taylor what do you mean you want us to accompany you in dueling Lord Slash and his brigands, we have armies for this." "Queen Taylor why do we have to break you out of the Holy Protectorate, what do you mean you killed the Pope." "Queen Taylor the second coming has arri—what do you mean you want to declare war on the resurrected Christ."

[scoops-aboy86]

Hot & Heavy

Prompt Used: Back to school shopping (@thehairandthebanished) and service dom (@steddiesmuttyseptember) | Hot & Heavy | Rating: E | CW: weight gain, feeding kink, outgrown clothes, humiliation kink, dom/sub dynamics | Additional Tags: chubby Eddie Munson, feeder Steve Harrington, semi-public sex, anal fingering, anal plug, spit kink, spit as lube

also on A03

“It’s stupid,” Eddie whines. “I’ve done senior year twice already, what the fuck use is a third round going to do?”

Steve just sits patiently on the other side of his parents’ couch, an eyebrow raised and twirling his keys on one finger. Every once in a while he gives them a little toss and catches them again without even looking, then goes back to spinning. 

Eddie scowls and crosses his arms over his chest, ignoring how this makes his shirt ride up a bit more than it had been already. “Don’t look at me like that.”

A shrug, and another little toss. “I’m not looking at you like anything. Just wondering why you signed yourself up if you didn’t want to go.”

Which hits a little too close to home, because yeah, Eddie had done that. Uncle Wayne wouldn’t judge him for getting his GED instead. It’s his own personal crusade, and he does want to, he just…

“I need new pants,” Eddie admits in something that’s half grumble, half whine.

And he knows, he knows it’s his own fault. He’s spent the whole summer coasting on Steve’s generosity, ever since skulking outside during the second graduation he hadn’t been allowed to partake in had sent Steve, ducking out of a gym full of happy families congratsing their grads, stumbling right into him. Eddie hadn’t graduated and Steve’s parents hadn’t shown, off on some indefinite business trip or something, so they’d decided to be miserable together. At least the Harringtons had sent their only kid a cake, and after sharing a couple joints Steve hadn’t had any qualms about letting Eddie go to town on it. 

They’d kept spending time together after that. Around the time they’d started making out whenever they got bored, Eddie opted to take a break from most of his dealing to hang out either at Steve’s air conditioned house or the cool (if slightly sticky) parlor of Scoops Ahoy. And the more they made out, the more sweet treats Steve offered him. All kinds of food really. It had gone to Eddie’s head in a way he’d never expected because, before, he’d always eaten as a means to get by. Steve opened his eyes to enjoying food, the flavors and the textures and savoring it all as he chewed, and when Eddie got going like that he didn't want to stop. Even when he physically couldn’t bring himself to eat more, he still asked for it; asked for Steve to feed it to him, to push at the boundaries of too much for him while Eddie’s mind went fuzzy with static and sensory-dominating fullness, finally quiet instead of spinning at a hundred miles per hour. Sometimes he’d doze off, and Steve would just let him sleep there, on the couch at first then more and more often in his bed. Always with a snack ready for when he woke up. 

It shows on his waistline, his arms and legs, and in the roundness of his face. Absolutely none of the weight has gone to his ass, he’s still flat as a pancake back there. None of this bothers him, exactly, but the problem remains; he barely fits into his jeans anymore. Even when he does squeeze into them they bite, and the hair tie holding the button in the vicinity of the hole it should fit into is barely cutting it anymore. 

“Eds,” Steve says, still annoyingly patient, “you need more than just new pants.”

Eddie huffs, resisting the impulse to look down at himself. Doesn’t need to know exactly how much of his belly (which took the brunt of his gain, in lieu of his ass) is showing out the bottom of his shirt to know that he feels an indecent amount of draft down there where it juts out over his lap. 

“Even your shoes don’t fit,” Steve adds, not unkindly. 

“Yeah, well.” Now Eddie is resisting the urge to stamp his foot and pout, but that’s too dramatic even for him. “I can’t afford to get new ones, alright?”

Steve finally stops spinning his keys with a pointed look. “So let me help you out, man.”

“I’m not letting you take me shopping, Steve.”

~

A few days later, Eddie lets Steve take him shopping. 

But they talk it out a lot, first. Because Steve, despite his former monarch status at Hawkins High, has never strong-armed him into anything—insists it’s impossible to do so, in fact, and Eddie appreciates that. Autonomy is very important to him. 

To a point. Which is why they had so much to talk about. 

As they pull up at a mall a few hours drive away from Hawkins, Eddie starts brushing the wrappers from the last road trip fast food stop onto the floor and attempting to wipe the remaining burger grease from between his fingers and the corners of his mouth. He hefts himself out of the Beemer’s passenger seat with a stifled belch and a shower of the little slivers of fries that were small enough to fall unnoticed while he was eating. Doesn’t even blink, just kicks the car door shut behind him and follows Steve’s lead inside. He’s full enough that he drifts along behind a little sluggishly, damp with sweat by the time they get there and grateful for the blast of air conditioning as soon as they do. 

“Shoes first,” Steve announces, and steers him in the direction of the nearest shoe store. 

Getting off his feet is already a relief. Eddie pays very little attention as Steve talks to the salesman, preoccupied with resetting his bloated belly over his straining waistband and studded belt that’s on its very last notch. (It’s less comfortable than the hair tie, but that had snapped while he was getting dressed, so.) 

They’re just here for sneakers, in a wide size. All he needs to do is sit back on the padded bench and put his feet where directed. First, to measure. Then to try on a few different pairs, although… 

Steve provides commentary on how they look, because Eddie can’t really see them once they’re on. Not without bending over further than he cares to on a still-full stomach. But he provides feedback on how they feel—whether the support is any good, if they punch in the toe or beneath the laces, that sort of thing—and that’s enough. Every time he has to walk to test them for fit and comfort in action, he shoots Steve a petulant look for help and Steve lends him a hand getting up. It’s part of the game they’re playing: Eddie gets to see Steve’s biceps flex, and Steve gets to feel the weight he’s been so instrumental in piling onto Eddie’s once scrawny frame; it’s a win-win. 

They leave the store with a box tucked under Steve’s arm and comfy new sneakers on Eddie’s feet. 

Next is the record store. It’s a chain, but they have a decent selection of new and used band shirts. Eddie once again finds somewhere to sit while Steve browses for him, knowing his favorite bands well enough by now to come back with plenty of decent options in his size. The one drawback of all Eddie’s recent indulgence is that, eventually, typical merch simply won’t be big enough to fit… but he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it. Denim vests come in all sorts of sizes, so he can always make a new battle jacket if need be.

“Do I have to pick?” he whines, and Steve just smiles indulgently and buys them all. 

~

Finally, they arrive at the department store. 

By now Eddie is a little more tuned in. He starts to notice people glancing at him—which he’s used to, really, as the resident Freak of Hawkins. Only, none of these strangers are staring because of his long unruly hair or his dark, ripped clothes and Dio splashed across his back. No, now people stare because he’s gotten fat, yet still has the audacity to go out in public with his shirt riding up his jiggling belly, deep navel on display beneath the straining fabric and the hang of his gut hiding the way his fly won’t stay zipped even with the belt. There’s something about the judgment in their eyes that hits different from just being seen as a nerd, Satanist, and trailer trash super senior. Eddie tugs fruitlessly at the bottom of his shirt just to make sure, just to make them fully aware of how poorly it fits, and feels himself start to chub up in his already uncomfortable jeans. His hand slips down to cup the bottom of his belly so it doesn’t wobble as much as he picks up the pace to keep up with Steve, reveling in its plush, pliable weight. 

How many of those watching right now can see his cheeks heat, notice him bite his bottom lip, and wonder in disgust if he’s thinking about more food?

… Well, now he is. God, the food court after all this walking around and sitting down and getting up is going to be so—

“What do you think of these?” Steve asks, waving at a display of jeans that to Eddie’s distracted eye all look pretty much the same. 

“They’re alright,” he mumbles. Taking the opportunity to stand still, he absently runs his hand back and forth along the curve of his belly, back and forth, kneading gently. It lulls away the sting of the embarrassment, leaving only his pleased flush at the attention. 

Steve picks a few things up and they move on. 

A store clerk approaches them with a simpering smile—no, approaches Steve. She’s ignoring Eddie like the elephant in the room. “Can I help you with anything, sir? I can get a changing room set up for you, if you’d like.”

And Eddie gets it. Objectively, he gets it. Steve is bonkers hot. But, he is smugly aware, this twig-shaped girl is merely a passing curiosity at best; Steve likes his partners (likes Eddie, and Jesus H. Christ isn't that still a heady thought) insatiable and demanding, not demure and easily impressed. The time when he felt self-conscious about their relationship, when he worried that Steve was just a confused straight boy who would go back to girls with their curves and small hands and baby-soft skin after a while, is long past. 

Partly because now he has those things too, except for the small hands, but mostly because like has recognized like. 

So when Steve replies, “Oh, this isn’t for me, it’s for him. But yeah, could you get us a changing room? My buddy here has some mobility issues so I’m here to help him out,” and winks at the girl, Eddie doesn’t even blink. From the looks of it, Steve is going to leave the store with her number. Eddie, feeling her gaze slide critically over him and linger on the way he’s bulging out of his clothes even at the sleeves and between the rips in his jeans, already knows she’s never going to get a call. 

~

The changing room is a bit cramped. Eddie stands by the mirror with one hand on the wall for balance as he steps on the heels of his new shoes to wiggle out of them while scowling at the only place to sit in the changing room: a chair with fucking armrests, way too narrow to squeeze his doughy hips between comfortably. Not when he’d have to get up again pretty soon after, anyway. 

It’s as thrilling as it is irritating. The amount of weight he’s put on in a single blur of summer indulgences still catches him by surprise sometimes. Half of it is probably from s’mores marathons they’d had in Steve’s back yard, which… Yeah, he wouldn’t give those memories up for anything. 

But at the moment, man is this annoying. 

“You’d think they could’ve just installed a bench, but nooo,” he grumbles. He gets the shoes off and leans back against the wall. “Whew. Mind helping me with my belt here?”

“Uh-huh,” Steve replies in a casual voice, for the sake of anyone who might be listening. His eyes are fixed on Eddie’s middle though, going smoothly to his knees with both hands already reaching. It’s cinched so tight that he has to grab both ends and pull them closer to get the buckle loose, compressing Eddie’s belly enough that he has to stifle a burp, then bite back a moan as the belt comes undone in Steve’s big hands and his belly drops with a noticeable bounce.

When Steve holds the belt up to show him, the last hole is so stretched it’s a miracle the thing had held. Eddie had noticed it creaking when standing and sitting in the shoe store, but he hadn’t thought it was that serious. And kind of doesn’t now either, with Steve still kneeling at his feet and peeling his outgrown jeans down. 

“Step,” Steve murmurs, tapping his calf over the crumpled denim. While Eddie extracts himself from his pants, he pops back to his feet with his hands still out, fingertips skimming up the sides of Eddie’s legs to settle on his exposed love handles and kneading rhythmically. “Need anything else?”

A number of lewd things he could ask for flit across Eddie’s mind, including with the impulse to ask for a pre-lunch snack—but they have a plan and he’d like to stick to that. So he shakes his head, and Steve retreats to the chair and settles in. Spreads his legs as wide as the armrests allow and puts a hand casually over the fly of his jeans, brazen in the way he adjusts himself while flashing Eddie an eager smile.  

Eddie licks his lips but tears his gaze away, focusing on the clothes hanging just inside the door. They’re already sorted, pants and shirts paired into outfits of his boyfriend’s choosing, which. Okay. He can do this. 

First is a pair of slacks and one of the button-down shirts. And they don’t fit at all. 

“Steve,” Eddie complains, struggling to try and get at least one button on the shirt fastened. He’d given up on the pants already, a little winded from all the jumping and wiggling as he tried without success to get them anywhere past where they strained obscenely over his thighs, and just left them there. It feels like he’s hogtied from the knees down. “Did you even look at the sizes when you picked these out?” His own body blocks most of the view in the mirror, but when he stands off-center just so he can see the way Steve is staring. It only lasts a second but he could swear—

“Try the next one, then,” Steve suggests, voice rough, and he is. He’s already touching himself. 

Jesus H. Christ. 

But the biggest thing confronting Eddie in the mirror is, obviously, himself. His eyes linger on his curves, the bulges where he all but explodes out of the clothes’ attempt to restrain him. Already flushed from all the walking and attention he’d garnered on his way to the dressing room, and now the attempt to get the clothes on, he realizes that it’s about to be a struggle to get them back off and suddenly feels even warmer. All over, but especially where Steve’s eyes rove over his ample backside—because his ass may be flat, but it’s gotten wide from all the time he’s spent parked on it lately. 

Because that’s a thing Eddie gets to have now: a doting boyfriend, who feeds him out of his clothes and then takes him shopping. 

He bites his lip and starts shrugging the shirt off, wiggling his hips to shift the pants from where they’re boa constrictor tight around his legs. Unable to shift his eyes from the mirror as he watches himself, the way his body shakes and bounces in new ways. And, like, fitting room mirrors aren’t flattering for anyone, but he looks big. Barely fits in the frame, especially when he turns fully to the side to grab the next outfit lined up for him. 

This one is a little better. Chinos that seem absolutely huge until he gets them on and realizes they don’t button over his lower belly; he has to lift it up and button them with one hand with a grunt, blushing hard as he hears Steve hum approvingly in the background. But the next hanger, a Black Sabbath shirt that Eddie actually really likes, doesn’t even come close. 

“Steve,” Eddie whines this time, trying to keep his voice down because they are kind of in public but fuck, the fact that his boyfriend is doing this to him on purpose is making really him squirm. He turns around with his hands on his hips, fully aware that he looks like he’s wearing a goddamn crop top the way his belly pushes up the shirt. 

“Eddie,” Steve teases back. He does a good job of not sounding breathless, but even if the urgency of how he’s fondling himself through his jeans didn’t give him away, the rapidly shrinking slivers of hazel around his blown pupils would. “Is there a problem?”

What’s Eddie supposed to say to that? As much as part of him wants Steve to play fair, get him things that he can actually put on without feeling every additional, quivering inch of himself so they can buy some damn clothes and move on to lunch, he can’t ignore the way it's making his blood rush south. 

So instead of focusing on fair—which, clearly, his dick could not care less about from the way it’s threatening the integrity of these chinos—he makes the world’s most ineffective attempt at pulling the shirt up and pouts. “I need help.”

And once again, those magic words make Steve light up. 

~

So, here’s the thing. Eddie has been to Indy. He’s done things in bathrooms at gay clubs with complete strangers, gotten his rocks off, and gone right back out onto the dance floor after. Yeah it felt like something was lacking, a little bit lukewarm even when the sex was good… but he’d always figured that was just part of the package when you had a sexuality that could get you run out of town if the wrong people found out. 

Nope. Incorrect. Or maybe that was it for some people, but Eddie has only recently figured out what the missing piece always was. 

Because right now, he feels like he’s on fire. 

“How’s this one fit?” Steve asks, and Eddie doesn’t know how the fuck he can sound so normal. So unaffected that he might actually be helping his fat friend struggle out of one article of clothing to the next, instead of what he’s actually doing, which is sliding a second finger into Eddie’s ass beside the first. 

“It’s, ah, it’s good,” Eddie gasps. He’s breathing hard, but he kind of was even when he really was still trying on clothes. It’s a good thing the changing room walls go all the way down to the floor because otherwise it would be way too obvious from outside that he’s on his hands and knees, biting his knuckles whenever Steve plays Morse fucking code on the bundle of nerves deep inside. “I think, ha, this one’s a winner, definitely. Put it in the keep pile for me.”

“Sure, man.” Behind him, Steve lets a gob of saliva drop silently from his mouth, adding more wet to his fingers and Eddie’s hole. 

Eddie is going to leave teeth marks on his entire fist at this rate. His mind is swirling around the proverbial drain, close to dropping out completely, eyes squeezed shut in a desperate attempt not to forget himself. But he can’t resist rocking back, angling his hips as he tries to get more. Steve moves with him, the bastard, but the underside of his belly rubs over his cock as it sways with the motion and the extra stimulation makes him jerk and that, that nearly makes him moan out loud. He doesn’t, though; they’re going to get away with this. 

It’s cleaner here by far than any bathroom he’d ever encountered in Indy but Eddie has never felt more dirty in his entire life, and it feels so. Fucking. Good. 

~

Before they leave the changing room, Steve dresses Eddie in new everything. Boxers from one of those economy packs that come with five pairs, because his old ones are… yeah. New Judas Priest shirt. Black jeans that don’t have any rips in them yet. Socks from similar plastic packaging because the ones he came in with have holes. Steve, kneeling at his feet, pulls those on for him and then gets his shoes on and tied one by one. 

Eddie lets him, feeling like his insides have been liquefied into honey. Or something thick and slow, anyway. Sticky and sweet. He licks his lips absently and watches the top of Steve’s head because he doesn’t want to lean forward enough to watch his hands, but can’t think of anything worth watching besides this perfect man whose eyes, when he meets Eddie’s gaze, are burning with the ‘you’re so fucking hot’ he doesn't dare say out loud right now, still riding that thrill of getting away with this in a public place. Who’d just played out the scene Eddie had asked for to glorious perfection.

There’s one thing Steve improved on, though. He feels it with every step as they head for the register, Eddie a few steps behind with a dopey expression on his face: the constant reminder of the plug in his ass. 

In a perfect world it would be there to keep Steve’s come inside him, but that would’ve been too risky. No, his sweet boy had spit on him again after he’d come into the ratty boxers now shoved deep in one of his new pockets, pushed it into Eddie’s lax hole with his thumb, and offered the plug shyly—as if there had ever been any chance of Eddie turning it down. It’s keeping him ready for when they get home. 

“So,” Steve says as they leave the store, glancing at him with a knowing grin, “you still up for the food court?”

Eddie smiles back at him serenely and pats his stomach, which  isn’t empty, exactly, but isn’t full anymore either. He could eat. 

“Always, baby. Lead the way.”

Permanent tag list (if anyone wants on or off, let me know): @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @irishvampireboy @oatmilk-vampire

@wheneverfeasible @hamiltonswiftie @grtwdsmwhr @yesdangerpls @theseaofdespair

[sodepope]

Epic cotl lamb and goat headcanon dump!

The Lamb

- potential headcanon name: “Prince”. There parents had VERY strong hopes for them so of course they had to name them after a royal title

- Age: 35 (way older then they look)

- there pansexual and a agender amab who uses they/it pronouns

- as a young child they really struggled with male gender norms and fitting into them, so as soon as they where old enough to think for themselves they said “fuck that I wanna be a prettiest lamb of all time” and that’s why they look the way they are now!

- there pupils used be a normal white but once the crown was given to it they turned red, and now there permanently that way even when lamb takes the crown off

- is usually nice but they can be incredibly sassy and petty when they want too

- it’s horns also used to be a normal shape but again once the crown got put on they became more devilish looking

-likes to say the most diabolical shit in a cutesy little voice just to disturb there enemies, they get a genuine kick out of it.

- uses quite a bit of hair products, I mean how else would they be able to pull off those marvelous curls?

The Goat

Potential headcanon name: “Lyric”. A person on discord gave me the idea and I like how it sounds

- Age: 35

- there a nonbinary omnisexual (pref for agender and nonbinary) afab who uses they/them pronouns

- like lamb they also struggled with female gender norms and fitting in when they where a kid but they eventually overcame all that just like lamb and became the person they are today

- like irl goats, Goat will “faint” whenever they get extremely excited or shocked, and goat getting that excited or shocked is once in a blue moon.

- the goats hair gets in the way of there vision a bit but they REFUSE to cut it

- hates everybody else’s children but wouldn’t mind having one of there own (foreshadowing)

- is just constantly being a mischievous asshole to everyone around them. nobody is safe, not even lamb (as shown from the resent animated short)

- goth

- like an inch taller then lamb

LambGoat/general headcanons

- The Lamb and Goat where childhood friends (thank you @littl3d0ll-art for sharing this headcanon and your art) and the goat is basically from a realm where all the goats go extinct instead of the lambs and the Lamb from there realm just disappeared, (yes I know the Goat is supposed to be a “dark reflection of the Lamb” but I personally interpret that as like there not quite the same person but they went through a lot of the same things In there realm)

- both the Lamb and Goat try so hard to not let ANYONE see them in a sad, vulnerable state (for faith in followers specifically). But when there alone together they don’t feel the need to hide it anymore

- the goat is the one you’d EXPECT to be the freaky one but in reality the oh so benevolent lamb is the actual freaky one.

- and to refute your expectations further: goat is little spoon, lamb is big spoon

- when there relationship was just them crushing on each other, lamb would try to impress goat by showing off there combat skills, even though goat was the better fighter hands down. and they would even try to do that thing where horned male animals showed off there horns to attract females, except the effect was greatly diminished because lamb’s horns are so fucking tiny compared to goat’s. So goat would just find these attempts “cute” rather than impressive.

However lamb did have there moments that genuinely impressed goat. And these instances were always completely unintentional on lambs end.

- lamb likes to style goats hair, bury there face into it or just simply play with it, at first goat was annoyed at this but grew to get used to and even like it.

- they switch the tasks of crusades and taking care of the cult between each other like a married couple would switch different chores between each other.

- they where both EXTREMELY touch starved so there favorite way of showing affection is through physical touch. But they do share heartfelt words between each other just as much.

- when there relationship was as surface level as it could possibly be goat pulled a LOT more asshole stunts towards lamb, but as there relationship grew the meanness slowly became less frequent and less extreme.

And to end this whole thing off here’s a screenshot edit of them together

[maxwell-grant]

Reverse Unpopular Opinion: Polnareff

I always think a lot about the craft and evolution of JoJo's Bizarre Adventure whenever I think about it and Polnareff is one of the greatest examples of it, because Polnareff is the exact moment you can see Araki's gears clicking in place regarding how dang useful supporting characters can be when allowed to take the lead. Where as previous main supporting characters were largely split between cheerleaders (Speedwagon, Poco, Smokey, Erina), sacrifices to up the stakes (the Zeppelis, George) or something in between (Stroheim, Lisa Lisa, Hamon masters in general), Polnareff was maybe the first JoJo character to leapfrog out of his designated role and really for real take the reigns of the story for himself. The first guy that people point to and say as "the REAL protagonist of this part", which is almost a tradition at this point.

In fact, although it's not the first time he has a fight to himself, you could say the first Hol Horse battle is the exact moment when this shift happens, when he's determined to face the odds and die trying in a glorious blaze of righteousness so long as he gets to fulfill his backstory-given revenge (the exact same thing that drove the Zeppelis to their doom) and play the sacrificial role, and then Avdol steals that chance away from him and "dies" instead, and then Kakyoin slams him into the back of a dragulaaaa a pick-up, hears his realization, and elbows him in the face so they can make up and handle this fight on their own, a fight they are not guaranteed to survive because remember, they're side characters, Araki doesn't spare those (heck, he didn't spare either of them in the long run), and thus, the fights they're in inherently have a tension most of the main protagonist fights don't, which means they're a thing worth doing even if, and especially if, they won't be the ones where they're killed off.

This in turn is what allows the Crusaders to gradually come on their own as a cohesive unit of characters, each of whom can take the lead and work out their own missions, solo or in pairs, and take the story through different tones and bumps and highs and lows, each of whom can be selected to better fit whatever cool or stupid or crazy idea Araki was feeling up to that month, and I'd say this breakthrough, working out what it means to write for an actual cast of protagonists and dynamics instead of just the one guy everything rotates around, was just as crucial to the long-term viability of JoJo's Bizarre Adventure as the invention of Stands.

Jotaro is the main character, of course, and Joseph is the navigator. Polnareff was the best answer I could come up with for a personality and visual appearance that would still be able to stand uniquely apart from those two. He makes up for what the two Joestars can't do… So he may have always been special to me. (Laughs)

For example, when he's with Jotaro and Joseph, Polnareff becomes a character who can both tell jokes and act serious. Polnareff's the one who always falls into enemy traps and has bathroom trouble on the journey. If that had happened to Jotaro, it would have made him seem too careless, and the story would have gotten off-kilter. That's why I had no choice but to put in Polnareff as much as I did. Compared to Kakyoin and Avdol, Polnareff is a light, straightforward man who goes out of his way for others, and tends to stick his nose where it doesn't belong. Thanks to that, he got a lot of screen time.

Since he got so much screen time, he also got a lot of battles. He fought a lot of DIO's men, and I was always worried that I might have to make Polnareff lose, or even kill him. Within his battles I saw the unique excitement of not knowing who's going to come out of this alive, similar to with "The Magnificent Seven." Polnareff grew precisely because he conquered so many do-or-die situations. - JoJonium special interviews

Polnareff is the Wolverine of Stardust Crusaders: the lone wolf rebel who actually turns out to be the greatest team player of them all. He's the great handyman, the glue that turns every interaction into a scene, every pairing into a character dynamic, every conflict into a worse conflict, and every victory into an emotional triumph. The Crusaders are largely a set of defined, set personalities, with Joseph providing initial levity, but Polnareff is extremely volatile: he never half-asses a decision or impulse or feeling, he is a whole-ass everything guy 100% of the time. He gets to fall into every horrific trap that Jotaro is too cool to have an appropriate pants-shitting response to, he gets to take turns being the clown with Joseph and play the comedy scenes to their respective traits, he is inherently suited to be a comedic and personable foil to Kakyoin and Avdol, he pairs up wonderfully with all of them when it's time to get serious because Polnareff getting serious means something that Jotaro and co. getting serious doesn't, and THEN he gets to be the hapless frustrated straight man to Iggy, because Iggy is Dog Polnareff, the living embodiment of Polnareff's ego being his worst enemy, and then when they do patch up and get serious, it's the most heartbreaking moment in the story. It's a long journey for Polnareff to work his way to being the guy who can have a stand off with DIO and kill arguably the strongest enemy in the entire series up to that point.

If Stands are said to be the thing that made Araki decide to continue the series past Part 3 because he realized he stumbled onto a conceptual goldmine, I'd say it was the development of the Crusaders as a team, and especially Polnareff taking the lead to such an extent, that gave him the legs to carry this for 25 more years and counting. If Joseph was the moment where Araki kickstarted the idea of being able to replace his protagonists with total opposites and thus always have a potential new angle to approach a story from, Polnareff blew wide open the possibilities of who could take the lead in a given JJBA story, the utility of it's supporting cast, and opened the door for the entry of much, much stronger and more varied character dynamics to support and evolve this variety. There aren't many characters who did as much for JJBA as Polnareff did.

Also yeah no SHIT people joke he's the real protagonist, his fights had a way better batting average than everyone else's, do you remember how boring most of the early fights with Jotaro only were? I'm not gonna say Stardust Crusaders was the best at balancing out the cast just because it was the first part to really try, I definitely think Avdol and Kakyoin got the short end of the stick, Avdol especially, but can you blame Polnareff for overexposure just because he so naturally lends himself to the good stuff? Shit, he really is the Wolverine of Part 3, for better or worse.

[beneathashadytree]

Hi maya hope your doing well. Im not sure whether or not this follows the request rules so feel free to not write it. But could you do headcanons of the stardust crusaders with a member who comes from Egypt along with Avdol. As an Egyptian I thought this would be a cool idea .

ONE OF US - STARDUST CRUSADERS X READER

Warnings : none I think, the reader’s age changes according to the character, this can be read as platonic or romantic I think, this is not proofread, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : fluff

Word count : 0.9K words

Additional notes : Hi nonnie! It took me so long to get to this because my requests weren’t opened when you sent it in. I’m an Egyptian myself, so this was especially fun to write! Hope you like this 💗

Tip jar if you’d like to buy me a Ko-Fi!

Masterlist

Now, Jotaro’s pretty much the definition of “Don’t care, didn’t ask”

It’s not that he genuinely doesn’t care out of callousness, but he simply doesn’t feel like it affects him much, nor does it cause any difference in the way he treats them

He does secretly enjoy the fact that they’re closer in age, and so finds it easier to come to them and listen to their tips and tricks for not getting swindled or lost in Cairo

They know the fastest routes to take, the cheapest but best kebda w sogo’ stands, and the most laidback ahwa shops for them to enjoy when they’re resting between stops; something Jotaro greatly appreciates

Stressed as he is, Jotaro can’t deny the fact that he feels his heart twitch in his chest with fondness whenever they share a few drags of shisha at night amidst the bustle of the city

Kakyoin’s usual nonchalance is curbed aside, since his curiosity and inquisitive nature pull him to them

He wants to learn more about their customs and traditions; wants to understand their lifestyle and try his best to fit in—and what better way to do that than to turn to the person who indulges him on his every whim?

Perhaps it’s because Kakyoin happens to be a good listener that they find themself going off on a tangent about how the nightlife comes alive in certain areas for “propriety”, and how revolutionaries wait patiently for their time before the country collapses and carry it on their shoulders, and so much more

When he isn’t keenly absorbing all that information, he’s asking them to teach him how to play tawla, and reveling in the feeling of slowly getting better at the game

He does feel a certain warmth in his face and tummy when he sees the proud smile on their face as they observe him picking up on everything they teach him

Polnareff didn’t care either, but for an entirely different reason: he was set on wooing them eitherways

He’d try to charm them with all the weapons he had in his arsenal, but for an Egyptian who’s so used to it, it’s kind of hard to impress them with flowery words and gestures

What does win them over is his chivalry, which flatters them more than anything; something they intend to repay by taking them to the most affordable but comfortable accommodations they know, which Polnareff is thrilled by

Given his friendship with Avdol, Polnareff definitely goes to them to learn Egyptian cursewords so he can exasperate the man even more (“Erm, pardon, but why does this one refer to someone’s mother’s genitals—“)

Seeing how reliable they are in their current setting definitely endears them even more to him, because it’s well-known that Polnareff finds strength and kindness immensely attractive

Avdol’s pretty much internally weeping with relief at the fact that he’s got another Egyptian with him, given the fact that the others have probably publicly humiliated him on more than one occasion with their lack of awareness

It’s safe to say that there’s a very high possibility that Avdol comes out of this experience with them permanently by his side—and whether as a lifelong friend, or as a permanent partner, it’s entirely up to them

They just get each other; he knows just when they need to take a break from guiding the others and need to unwind with a few cups of shay be laban with him, he knows when they want to cuss out the entire trip in the filthiest choice of words to the one man who can laugh with them, and he knows when they wish to indulge in some termes bel shatta by the Nile Corniche, happily munching and spitting out the shells as they trek closer to the mansion

Avdol’s finely attuned to their wants and needs, and they do the same to him—something that pulls forth all the affections he has burrowed in his chest, and he finds himself enjoying the way they dote on him with twinkling eyes and a knowing smile

The feeling that they’re always sharing an inside joke is what makes Cairo feel more like home than ever, and Avdol doesn’t want to let go of that feeling any time soon

Joseph is… definitely a handful, given that he sometimes unknowingly acts like a typical white old man, whose actions can sometimes come across as tone-deaf or thoughtless

They do know that he doesn’t mean it, though, and that he’s actively trying to unlearn the stereotypes he’s used to, so they take the time to patiently teach him all the right customs and traditions, and correct him on his misconceptions

It’s their kindness that touches him the most; their almost-selflessness shows him just how much they care about him, especially when it’s something as simple as finding him his favorite beer in an obscure Drinkies shop, or replacing his tattered gloves with handmade leather ones from El Wekala

Knowing the city like the back of their hand also increases Joseph’s soft spot for them, seeing as how he tends to get lost among the similar looking streets and hawary, and they always drag him back via the most accessible shortcuts

Joseph smiles wistfully as he sees their youthfulness and the way their presence brightens their dreary group just a little more, and he loses himself in whatever they drag him into, knowing he’d love it anyways

Kebda w sogo’ : liver and sausage

Ahwa : coffee

Shisha : hookah

Tawla : traditional Egyptian board game

Shay be laban : tea with milk

Termes bel shatta : lupin beans with chili

Drinkies : popular alcohol shop

El Wekala : famous place for thrifting clothes and handmade items

Hawary : alleys

Taglist: @blondeboyfriend @mrsgiovanna @boorishbrambling

[clonehub]

please elaborate on the Ridge & Bliz beef. His jealousy of Ridge is pretty interesting

AAAAHHHH anon you've activated my trap card.

So I'm on mobile at the moment so apologies if this is truncated or incoherent, but I'll do my best to explain everything with them and why they are they way they are.

TWs for mentions of CSA.

Background for Ridge: the "runt" of his original squad. He was shy and quiet and slow but a yet-undiscovered genius who wanted, more than anything, attention and to feel like he fit in. He transferred into his Kamino squad because they lost a member. He had a lot of trouble meshing. Ridge ended up being sexually abused by the drill sergeant in charge of his cohort. This lasted around two years. During this time, he became unable to fully form bonds with his squad. Upon graduation, he transferred to the 686th. Two seconds after joining a squad there, he lost his closet brother on the team and transferred squads AGAIN to Crusade Squad, whom he remains with permanently until he deserts roughly less than a year later.

Background for Bliz: Bliz was a regular trooper who had a normal time of it on Kamino and was a platoon sergeant during the beginning of his time in the 686th. At the time, Commander Ace was Kiki's second in command; the two disagreed often on how they should conduct battles, especially with Aces stiff personality and strict by-the-book style of planning. During a battle on an environmentally hazardous planet, the 686th encounters a problem that Kiki and Ace can't find a way around. Bliz offers a suggestion, Kiki puts him in charge of the mission, it's successful, and afterwards Bliz gets more opportunities to prove his worth as a soldier. Everything comes to a head when Ace is killed in battle, Kiki is injured, and she immediately turns to Bliz, telling him "do whatever you need to" before passing out. After successfully aiding in the planetary invasion, Kiki field promotes Bliz to Commander and has him sent back to Kamino for CC training. Bliz has to be rushed through it; he comes back insecure about his rank and worried about his ability to lead.

So how do they get where they are? Well, Ridge believes that he was abused specifically because hes a clone, and he develops some serious authority issues because of it. He swore to protect himself against attempts to control him against his will. Bliz was fine at first, but he developed control issues and, after getting tortured during one of his first battles as commander, became an insomniac with unmanaged PTSD and depression. Whenever he did sleep, he had nightmares. Bliz has the military skill for Commanderhood, but not the temperament or personality. Bliz was hypocritical, controlling, kind of arrogant, and desperately missed the relative freedom of his lower rank, where he could joke and laugh and argue with his brothers and not have it mean as much because he wasn't a CC.

So basically these two were destined to clash in every way possible. Ridge went from being a loner and nobody to being the center of attention everywhere, all the time, no matter what (attention-seeking is a result of the abuse). He knew all the gossip, he had a secret stash of candy and snacks, he was funny, he was multi-talented, he has everyone's love and attention.

Bliz did not. Bliz was a hardass. He was funny, yes, and he could be charming and personable, yes, but he was struggling to manage the responsibilities of a commander. They're not just battle-related, they're cultural. Bliz longed to be able to actually relax. Combined with Kikis rather lax manner of handling issues in the 686th and her (unintentional) flaunting of most forms of hierarchy, Bliz was in a lot of ways over his head. Every clone was perfectly obedient except for Ridge. Bliz would try to get his hands on him, and Ridge would find a way to wriggle out of his grasp time and again. Ridge's disobediences were minor but frequent. He clearly didn't care about demerits.

To top it all off, he was good friends with Kiki. GREAT friends. Ridge would undermine Bliz and it was always juuuuust outside Kiki's line of sight. Bliz requested to transfer Bliz, and Kiki denied it. She could yell at Ridge (she definitely had on more than one occasion) but he'd be right back to his old ways in no time.

Ridge also has a second life. A life where he doesn't have to be a clone.

Ridge met some civilians early into his tenure with the 686th. They were university students. He became friends with them. Then he spent more and more time with them and learned more and more about things like boundaries and being a person with rights. Ridge started demanding more and more of the life he feels he was denied -- a normal life, a life that isn't based in warfare and where his body doesn't essentially belong to dangerous entities that don't view him as a person. Ridge, the best techy in the 686th and probably in the GAR in general (which is why it's not worth transferring him) hacked his friends university's student files to enroll himself and give himself full ride so he wouldn't have to deal with loans. He forged a lot of things to get there. On Coruscant, he isn't a clone and he isn't a weapon. He is a normal 18-year-old freshman with a girlfriend and a part time job and a friend group and a community that he knows will have his back.

Bliz doesn't realize how much of that freedom he wants. He doesn't necessarily crave the classes or the job, it's more the community. The ability to make mistakes without it weighing more heavily against his credentials than anyone else's. Freedom to act. Bliz wants to be able to do what he wants, so he's also a hypocrite. He'll chastise Jax for letting his feelings for Kiki get too far, but then he himself will start an affair with her and truly see nothing wrong with it.

(we get a glimpse of Bliz's desires first when a buddy of his teases him about fine dining, and then in a later episode where he's undercover at a resort and blends in perfectly with the affluence and civilians. He loves every aspect of it)

To Bliz, Ridge represents everything he could and should be. Beloved, able to act and react with impunity. Friends with Kiki, friends with everyone. Ridge has money and treats and access to gossip. I may be repeating myself but I want to make it clear just how jealous Bliz is of Ridge. And then Ridge will find ways to antagonize, undermine, or otherwise make Bliz look stupid, which drives him up a wall, of course.

(the rest is under a cut because it's less relevant to your question)

Bliz becomes fixated on trying to hold Ridge down, trying to teach him a lesson and even humiliate him or "put him in his place". His punishments get harsher and harsher, which only makes Ridge buck authority more. It's also clear that Ridge is quite distant from clones despite how central he is to the 686th. I'm not sure how to really frame it, but you know when someone is meant to be part of your culture but they kind of shun parts of it? Everyone can pick up on this, but it's not like Ridge is outright questioning the war.

Until he starts doing that. He questions why they were created, what they're fighting for. Only a few people know he feels like this: Cord, who's part of the network and is this keeping an eye on ridge; and Yuza, who starts to question things the same Ridge does, especially as she's a social outcast with her own squad.

And Bliz. Once, they have a semi-argument about it. Now Ridge has a target on his back.

Ridge is the perfect example of everything Bliz wants and all of Bliz's failings as a commander, so when Bliz gets the opportunity to destroy Ridge, he leaps at it. Ridge, who's fallen completely into saying "fuck authority", skips a battle while on leave in order to stay with his friends, who are throwing a party for him. He gets arrested, then exposed, and Blizs full cruelty and poor adjustment as a leader comes on display. He makes a show of raiding the open-secret supply closet Ridge built. He drags Ridge around his campus to make him confess to the schools chancellor and his professors. He investigated every corner of Ridge's life in both the 686th and on Coruscant. He interrogates all of Ridge's friends. He thinks to himself, "Finally, I'll have control. Finally, I'll destroy my number one enemy."

There was a mission that took place before this wherein Ridge disobeyed direct orders and nearly crashed the whole mission. Bliz's anger got ahead of him, so he did a very loud and accusatory public dressing down. Kiki had to yell at both of them (she told them both to meet her in X room on the Radiant). Ridge decided to say "fuck it" after that.

Bliz is winning. He's almost elated. He's proven himself, his strength, his might. He's sending Ridge back to Kamino (a massive trigger for Ridge, but Bliz doesn't know that). Bliz gloats one last time before send off, and mentions the Forbidden Word with Ridge.

Brothers.

Ridge has always felt distant from clones. He blames his squad for not defending him from the drill sergeant, for moving on without him too fast after that one careful day and he couldn't find them (he also didn't tell them what was happening to him, largely because he did not understand himself what was going on. He also blames himself). He gets angry at the idea that he's obligated to be anyone's brother.

So Bliz says that word, and Ridge LOSES it. Ridge disowns Bliz, right there in the hangar. In clone culture, it's a murder-suicide. Disownment is death. Disownment is rejecting everything a clone stands for and is. Considering the fact that Ridge is being sent off to never be seen again, there is no way to rectify this. No way to make up.

It's the worst humiliation that Bliz could possibly face. As a commander? He's destroyed. Being disowned reflects poorly on both the victim and the perpetrator.

Close to a year of unfairness, jealousy, envy, controlling attitudes, hypocrisy, anger issues, insomnia, PTSD, insecurity and identity crises culminates in this moment. Bliz was sending Ridge off to die and Ridge was dealing the final blow. They wanted each other dead.

(technically, ridge "wins" because kiki gets him out of the GAR before he can get to Kamino)

But you know what makes it worse? Bliz believes Ridge's transport blew up due to a malfunction before hitting hyperspace. He thinks he killed one of his own brothers, and then he thinks that the entire 686th hates him. He failed.

[tacticaldivine]

I just found out about Daccapri, she seems really neat :) I do have questions:

• So her parents are Argosax and Arius? How did that go down? To what extent did she know her parents?

• Since Lucia trained her, what's their relationship like? On a scale of "I taught her what I know then we went our separate ways" to "she's basically my daughter"?

• How did she get involved with Nero and the crew?

• Where did she learn her gunsmithing skills? What kind of guns does she make, and does she use them?

• Tell us more about this demon witch that possesses her sometimes, assuming that's still canon.

Thanks I'm glad you think she is neat uvu I’m gonna tell you rn; we do not live and die by canon in this house I be making this shit up so you just need to trust me. A lot of her stuff borders into Bayonetta lore too

 So her parents are Argosax and Arius? How did that go down? 

Her parents are actually Arius and the demon witch Fortuna

It all started 500 years ago. Her mother was a human born witch who went to Hell to escape the persecution of her coven, making a pact with the demon known as Fortuna to ensure her safety.

Fortuna had aided Sparda in his crusade against Mundus; she absolutely takes it personal when she finds out the island named after her worships him. Fortuna is an extremely petty being, a professional hater if you would, holding a grudge against the guy who sealed her off with the rest of the demons is expected.

Emerging after several hundred years after being summoned by Arius. Her mind consumed by her pact demon, Fortuna wants nothing more than to get revenge on humanity, starting with the Legendary Dark Knight who chose to save them. 

Fortuna takes to Arius cause they’re both cartoony ass villains, they wanna reclaim Earth for demonkind. They make a baby, the two of them do a silly little magic ritual to make the baby a vessel for Argosax. 

Fortuna wanted to inhabit the vessel and Arius who’s spent his entire life building to this point ends up using her own weapon to slay her, sealing her inside of it. A weapon Daccapri gains once Arius is killed.

To what extent did she know her parents?

Daccapri was raised by Arius so she knows him very well. Their relationship is very complicated. He treats her like a pet more than a person. And she doesn’t know any better so Daccapri spends most of her life assuming that this is normal. No matter what awful tests she’s subjected to she is fiercely loyal to Arius, her only family. While Arius is incredibly strict and blunt with her, I like to think under all that he does care for her.

She takes after him. Dressing in expensive clothes, behaving with great composure; she maintains a coquettish and level-headed illusion. The façade tends to come undone during combat or moments of intense emotions, revealing her aggressive and crude self.

Daccapri doesn’t really know Fortuna or Argosax. She hears Fortuna’s voice in her head, goading her on, her blood singing to eviscerate Sparda’s kin whenever she’s around one of them. 

Daccapri only knows of Argosax through texts. A distinct flavor of dread that haunts her, an unknown legacy to live up to that instinctively she knows is bad but it's what she was made for, her sole purpose for existing.

Since Lucia trained her, what's their relationship like? On a scale of "I taught her what I know then we went our separate ways" to "she's basically my daughter"?

I would describe it more as a sibling type bond but mentor/pupil is definitely more fitting I do agree. Either way they do not get along at all, more of a “I’m disappointed that you let yourself become the monster they made you to be” kind of way. Lucia spent countless hours training her during her time as a Secretary and then once again later when she became a Protector. Both of them raised to be weapons by the same man, they argue about how they should and should not be using said powers. Lucia believes it best to remove her from the equation entirely, Daccapri's mind already slipping; who knows when she'll finally lose control.

Lucia’s relationship with Matier is her saving grace, but Lucia does not show this same patience to Daccapri. Meanwhile Daccapri, who’s only idea of love, familial or otherwise, is absolute control over another person, hates being told what to do; especially from a Secretary. Daccapri recognizes Lucia’s skill but her inflated ego has her believing she’s above anyone around her. Unfortunately for both of them; she is able to back up said ego with combat prowess thanks to her demonic blood. 

How did she get involved with Nero and the crew?

Following her departure from Dumary Island, Daccapri ends up becoming an Information Broker. Her time with the Uroboros Corp at least comes in handy for something. Lucia, who has little trust that she’ll keep herself out of trouble, asks Dante to watch her.

She is turned away from DMC at first, so she uses her own connections to establish herself as a decent fixer. Impressed by her strong will and resourcefulness earning the respect of the accomplished hunter, she works for Lady post DMC2. 

During this time she slowly meets them all as Lady spends a fair amount of time entangled with the crew. Her connection with Lady is what helps establish herself amongst other information brokers. It also puts her directly at odds with Dante, who’s involvement with Lady results in countless collateral charges. 

As for how she meets Nero? She first learned of him through her time spent visiting The Order on Fortuna. Though she did not pay attention to him at first, more enamored with the recent success of Credo; a human having survived the Ascension Ceremony with his mind in tact. 

She would properly meet Nero and Nico sometime between 4 and 5 when Morrison sends them to her to collect job details. A love of supernatural weaponry unites her and Nico. Her and Nero however? The pair are volatile together, constantly egging the other on. Unstoppable Force meets Immoveable Object.

Daccapri takes to Nero the most because she enjoys toying with him. She also sees a bit of herself in him. She also wants to completely eviscerate him due to the age old grudge she was made to fulfill but its easily overcome with the power of friendship! He gives as good as he gets and she's absolutely enthralled at having to earn his respect, she loves a good challenge.

After the fall of the Qliphoth, Daccapri steps in as the primary informant for Nico and him and even accompanies them on missions.

Where did she learn her gunsmithing skills? What kind of guns does she make, and does she use them?

She learns them during her time with Uroboros. In my perfect little world, she would have learned from Agnus. (Whether that could be "canon" or not really idc cause she would have encountered The Order when funding their research so it doesn't matter when) She has a preference for making Devil Arms, she has a disdain for the stink of gunpowder and prefers any alternative. Despite this she wields Arius’s revolver, though she does end up heavily modifying it. She tends to use regular guns more as a melee weapon than as a ranged weapon, unless you count throwing it at someone at Mach speed(which I do at least).

She does try to use magic to concentrate bullets but regular weaponry tends to jam or stall at the rate she fires them. It's easier to avoid it entirely.

She herself uses a big stupid fuck off OP weapon that’s a gift from her mother. It's like Pandora’s box but bigger and gaudier. She spends most of her time studying it to try and replicate it, all attempts have failed but it's her own pet project.

I haven't sat down to properly draw her arsenal yet,,, my apologies

Tell us more about this demon witch that possesses her sometimes, assuming that's still canon.

So the demon witch that possesses her sometimes is actually her Mother, Fortuna. 

Fortuna is my Bayonetta OC. At this time she doesn't have a design so I'll give you Daccapri's Trigger design that invokes her

Madama Fortuna, was a former angel who spurned Iustita and wished to take over them rather than be just a servant to them. Cast out of Paradiso, she took well to the shadows of Inferno. Should a conjurer sign a contract and trade her soul, the demon will bestow her [[enourmous power and great wisdom]]

Witches who do their research can utilize her blinding lust for conquest to overwhelm her better judgment to manipulate the demon to their will. Following the witch's fall, they are destined to live out all eternity in her circle. Souls brave enough to fuse with her, or romance her, will become attached to her gown where she flaunts them for intimidation.

Fortuna grants her conjurer what is essentially plot armor. While the user is blessed with good luck, all those around her are given her misfortune. The last witch to enter into a pact with her was able to survive the Witch Hunts but wasn’t able to save anyone else during the war due to how her passive ability works.

To what extent this ability affects Daccapri, having both the Fortuna’s blood and her soul bound to her weapon, is unknown at this time.

The human disguise Fortuna wears is the last witch to willingly enter a pact with her.

________________________

I think that's everything. Hope that was somewhat helpful! Thank you for the question

[thousandbuns]

I had an idea how to "solve" the issue of "40K media invoking Abaddon all willy-nilly in the dumbest of contexts", like DoW2: Retribution having Abaddon micromanage Eliphas' grudge-campaign against Blood Ravens (a small, battered chapter of relative nobodies in an equally insignificant corner of the galaxy) or "Soul Hunter" and the plotline about Abaddon and the billionth Sorcerer on his payroll both getting very sweaty about bringing in one specific Night Lord (who does have some clout and historical significance... for Night Lords, maybe*, and whose divination gift is only "impressive" and "special" because ADB says so**):

Warp-based automatic secretary.

It works like this: you grab some Sorcerers skilled in illusion and mind-reading, put them in what's essentially a magic call-center, and whenever some two-bit nobody warlord tries to dial you up and pester you about the hundredth "this is blatantly my personal issue and frankly a gross misuse of Black Legion's resources" campaign, you just have the warlocks conjure up a convincing enough illusion of yourself acting deeply invested in all that nonsense and pressuring the commander to act fast and efficient. Meanwhile your accounting and logistics division assign the bare minimum of armor, weaponry and supplies to that fleet and only notify you if Azkul the Deprecated's Individual Hangups Jaunt goes over the budget, just so you're aware of this loss in the grand scheme of things. Your subordinates will most likely schedule an extra supply raid to make up for it anyway.

That way none of those losers are directly tugging at your sleeve and you don't have to worry that their dumb little escapades will put a dent in your pocket. Your undivided attention can remain on plotting how to deal with Indomitus Crusade and sliding into Huron Blackheart's DMs to call him a smelly upstart bitch.

*) Based on the fact that Ruven had no qualms about jumping ship over to the Black Legion even before Talos was there, how fractured Night Lords are, and how Talos is specifically one of the few people who sincerely cares about whatever disjointed nonsense passes for Curze's philosophy and legacy? I'd say bringing him over to BL isn't that important and it's just Ruven trying to resolve his personal grudges with Legion's resources. Much like Eliphas.

**) Like yeah, sure, you have your fortune-telling epilepsy, Talos, shame that Abby can just walk down the street and hit on that one ex-Thousand Son Corvidae who can see the future without having to go into fits for 72 hours, or consult one of many daemon oracles or even greater daemons. He can probably stage a ritual to dial up Kairos the fucking Fateweaver and have his Sorcerer covens try to decipher whatever nonsense it spewed at them. There's even a good chance Tzeentch won't purposefully muddle the visions too much because Abby is the Gods' Chosen Loser and he deserves a treat from time to time.

[frostise]

details about the impact crystal had on louise:

crystal had stated in her will that louise had the rights to own not only the thermofrost chamber but her personal belongings and clothes as well. crystal dryly joked about them being a little too big on louise since they're almost the same height but she didn't have any other friend she can genuinely trust. to this day, louise still has her stuff in her penthouse and keeps them in great condition

as a bonus to the headcanon above me: louise wears crystal's clothes when she's in a depressed mood or when her death anniversary comes up. if anyone had a keen eye for detail then they would realise her sweaters were a little too baggy on her figure, which isn't like louise to wear since most of her clothes are tailored to fit her. she's a uptight person when it comes to fashion

whenever louise openly talks about crystal she would only focus on the good parts of their friendship. she would prefer to remember them without the hyperthermia cancer which drastically changed crystal's appearance and sets those good memories of them in college but never at S.T.A.R lab's since those memories lead to the lab accident that made crystal into a metahuman

she's lightning fast to correct someone when they get something wrong about crystal. she always gives the person a death stare and refuses to take her eyes off of them the entire time until they leave the room or is forced to pay attention to something else. this would've played out in firestorm's murder trial once and police interrogations

crystal is the only person she considered to marry despite them being friends at the time

louise remembers crystal's appearance so vividly that she had no issues creating a ice statue in a matter of seconds when she was a assassin in training. in canon, crystal named herself the queen of new york and to honour her memory she would've created a ice crown and royalty dresses in those statues

most people would think louise is fuelled by rage, sadism and grief which is true...but they often forget she's powered by her love for crystal. that's the primary drive for her actions when it comes to her vengeance crusade

louise had confirmed she helped crystal be more outgoing because she wasn't a sociable person and was the type to bury herself into her books. i would imagine louise was the type of extrovert to not understand introverts until she met crystal and therefore developed a better understanding of their social awkwardness

her thoughts would often drift to crystal when she's in prison or arkham whenever it got really, really bad. she's one of the few people in her life who motivates louise to never give up and be able to ironically stay 'sane' in there

as a bonus to the headcanon above me: she would have random thoughts that would trigger her to start thinking if crystal would love or hate a person she made friends with, something as mundane as the weather becoming colder can become a bad memory and the scent of cheap perfume brings comfort when she's about to sleep after a nightmare

louise has framed photos of crystal in her bedroom and study room only. there's several pictures of them in graduation, college parties, rollerskate blading and ice skating. it's the only few times she's seen crystal smile and forbids those who visits her penthouses to never access those areas without her permission. those photos serve as both a comfort and motivation since crystal was the reason why she became a better scientist and understood what louise was without fearing or hating her

if anyone were to visit crystal's gravestone there would be a lot of cemetery red rose bouquets since it was crystal's favourite flower and not many would know she was a hopeless romantic at heart because she was an extremely hard person to know. louise specifically bought purple roses because its often associated with royalty, blue roses symbolise yearning and hot pink roses for gratitude. her grave would always be spotless and well-decorated which always leaves crystal's parents surprised and terrified

as a bonus to the headcanon above me: louise unfortunately found out her gifts were being stolen and not taken away by the groundskeeper when the flowers would wilt away. she had planted a tracking chip ever since that incident occurred and took care of the problem herself by kidnapping the thief and torturing them for days before leaving their corpse in front of the snowy cemetery for the cops to find and crystal's gifts to be returned. it was very obvious louise had done this but it served as a warning to never disrespect crystal's grave

[stolencrownsofplenty]

@faithful-church-mouse | Accepting

❣ :3

Pros & Cons of Dating the Emperor:

pros:

With many millennium of experience under their own belt and a LOT of time to kill whenever they're not busy on the grind, the Lamb has dove hand of their hooved fingers into a lot of hobbies and interests; collecting near millions of skills along their godhood that they've put into good use when it comes to either bonding with their followers or put into the benefit the cult. So no matter if you're someone who's either into combat, the arts, and what else have you could could possible think of? The Emperor always has something to talk about with you and always tries to keep the conversation busy with some extra excitement in each of your lives. You want to talk about the weird bird migration seasons and which type of birds you might come across in your day? Your Lamb already has their glasses on to take a deep dive with you as they have a bird guide opened up just for you guys to bird watch for the rest of that morning. Want to try out a new necklace design you've been thinking of making? Dw, they got you covered with some jewel making supplies they've been saving up for a while too as they throw several ideas at you on how to even improve on the design as well. They are supposed to be a Leader with a charming golden tongue, so they like to keep up with their partners if they can help it.

For as tough as they may appear to a majority of their flock? The Emperor does have quick a soft spot for cuddles when it comes to snuggling up close to their partners when they're trying to steal as much affection and warmth from them. If you guys are cuddling up in their throne as they are reading up on the little fictional mysteries they've saved up to relax with? Even as they read, they'll be stealing a few kisses from you as they practically have an arm locked around you like a protective barrier, they have a habit of making sure you're still there in their arms as their attention is elsewhere. While they may be stoic in some regard, some parts of their old flock instincts makes them crave for social company as they don't really like being left by their lonesome. It's quite hard to avoid their own self isolation when they have to go on regular crusades to collect supplies and such, but having little moments spent like this with their spouses means the world to them when they're doing small mundane things every now and again.

When you are dating the lamb, you take major priority in their mind when it comes to staying under the circle of their protection. Heretics, whenever they're not often targeting their blind spots, target anyone who may happen to be close to them and had sometimes taken spouses hostage whenever they've sent out important members of their flock out on missionaries. Not only would they want to act fast in recusing you when they felt the sudden ping of your panic stir within the realm of their own being, they shall not hold their bite back if they heard your screams of harm coming to you. May the heretics be damned if they found you injured in their reckless care, for the Lamb would safe at nothing until they'd have you safe within their arms again. And if you're on their cult grounds alone when they happen to be out on a patrol, they'll have a couple of their own guardsmen set on keeping charge of protecting you in their stead night & day. After having one of their own spouses getting severally hurt during the early days of their cult, when a group of heretics had come start a raid of trying to destroy almost their entire small flock? Their camp is not without its loyal group of soldiers, always having a stock of their toughest followers guarding at the edges of their camp. If the lamb cares about you deeply? You'll know it when they've set out you some personal guards to tend to your daily protection.

cons:

Despite being polyamory themselves, they are not excluded from having their own jealous fits occasionally. With the subtle influence of their crowns being included here, the Emperor is not without the tastes of their own possessiveness tangled into the life style of their cult; as for a God and their followers, it is seen as a complicated relationship (either platonic or romantic) being held between the two. Yet there's a bit more of a difference to it. Oh, are you also polyamory but have a side partner of your own within their cult? Cool, they'd be find with you having your own date life within the cult anyways; and it's all the more as a benefit if you're thinking of eggy kids in the future with that side lover. On the other hand, if they see you even remotely having thoughts of trying to date someone outside of the cult or think of going to another god? They may just have to keep you in the prison stocks for a few days while they take care of the "outside problem" as they let you think on your mistakes during that waiting. That or they might even be a bit more rougher than usual one night when you guys are trying at having another baby. Bite marks are to be expected if you're a follower who's still got a lot of learning to do when it comes to being their loyal spouse. Yet if you're more like a god and not a follower in the possessive case? They're glaring daggers at the person who thought of trying to flirt with you. It sucks, but the crown influence makes them super protective over their objects of affection. There will need to be some boundaries set if you guys are on equal standings, because they need to know when to step back if it gets out of hand.

When summer is coming and its time for them to shave off their winter coat? Their wool gets everywhere and in everything. You're wearing your favorite black shirt? Sorry, it's covered in orange strands hairs now because they hugged you recently. It might even be best you prepare dinner for a few days since you don't really want to eat wool in your food. :(

In their sleep, they snore a lot. So please get some earplugs if you're a light sleeper. Their nose airway gets clogged sometimes due to the way their crowns hog up a good chuck of their head, and they have to breathe through their mouth anyways to work around it in the night. More than once they've kept spouses up at night when they've finally decided to crash with the spouse for the night. If you're not used to it, those snores can be loud for some.

[mariacallous]

Who, exactly, is the enemy Russia has targeted in its unprovoked invasion of Ukraine? Not Ukrainians, who, as the Russian media continually remind us, don’t actually exist. Not NATO and the “collective West,” however much they might fit the bill; Russian television has been demonizing them for more than a decade, but there is little appetite for a direct confrontation. Throughout most of the war, the “Kyiv Junta” has been labeled a band of homosexuals, drug addicts, and, most prominently, Nazis. Yet somehow even Nazis are not quite evil enough. So, who is the true enemy? Could it be … Satan?

Apparently, yes. 

On November 4, Deputy Chairman of Russia’s Security Council Dmitry Medvedev, who just 15 years ago was the gadget-happy, reformist president on whom the country’s liberals pinned their few remaining hopes, gave a speech worthy of a wannabe suicide bomber: 

We listen to the words of the Creator in our hearts and obey them. These words give us our holy goal. The goal of stopping the supreme leader of hell, whatever name he might use — Satan, Lucifer, or Iblis.

As Artem Efimov notes in his excellent contribution to Meduza’s “Signal” Russian-language newsletter (all the Satanic news fit for pixels, if not print), it was Chechen leader Ramzan Kadyrov who, while apparently moonlighting as a demonologist on his Telegram channel, called for the “desatanization” of Ukraine. This is the sort of language we have come to expect from Kadyrov, who rails against “shaitans” so often that they may as well be one of the odd filler words that notoriously pepper most of his sentences. We not only expect Satan from Kadyrov — we’re disappointed if he forgets to mention him.

If both the Muslim Kadyrov and the Russian Orthodox Medvedev are warring against Satan, then this isn’t simply a matter of the ongoing mind meld between the Russian (Orthodox) Church and State. One need not believe in God to worry about Satan (although it certainly helps). 

The U.S. has been beset by waves of demonically-inflected hysteria since the infamous Satanic Panic of the 1980s, when a confluence of concerned parents, “experts,” and media personalities turned a few unhinged accusations of so-called “satanic ritual abuse” into a threat that stalked America’s schools and daycare centers. The officially atheist Soviet Union was spared this particular wave of hysteria, but, as Efimov points out, the moral panic over new religious movements (“cults”) in the 1990s brought satanism into the Russian popular consciousness.

By the 2000s, activists associated with the Russian Orthodox Church (ROC) were ferreting out Satanists left and right. And they involved the government whenever possible. When the Moscow Education Department banned Halloween in the city schools, it claimed that the holiday promoted a “cult of death” and pointed to concerns about “rituals of Satanically oriented religious sects.” The popularity of the Harry Potter franchise put the morality police into overdrive. In December 2002, a woman filed a complaint with Moscow Prosecutor’s Office against Rosmen, the publisher of Harry Potter, for “occult propaganda” (the prosecutors declined to charge Rosmen, due to a lack of evidence).

Something was spreading throughout Russia since the collapse of the USSR, but it was not Satanism: it was the crusade against Satanism. 

This was a movement that crossed church and state boundaries long before the 2022 invasion of Ukraine. The demonization of “cults” in the 1990s was an important step, but it was only in the past decade that both scholars and state actors indulged in a crucial slippage between the religious and the political. The Center for Combating Extremism, founded in 2008, fights both political opposition and unrecognized religious organizations, tacitly making them equivalent “threats.” In 2020, Roman Silantev, one of the leading experts combating new religious movements, published a book called Destructology, which provides the ideological justification for the Center’s work. For Silantev, undesirable political and social movements such as pyramid schemes, “fascist” and “antifascist” groups, and even the pensioners who insist that the USSR still exists, are structurally exactly the same as “totalitarian cults.” From here to Satanism is just a small step.

Since February 24, disaffected Russians have been asking themselves the grimly ironic question: “So, are we North Korea now, or Iran?” If the country is going to be explicitly fighting Satan, then Iran seems like the better bet. But the irony goes even deeper. There’s something about looking for Satan around every corner that is suspiciously …American.

The rise of the Russian anti-cult movement and the fundamentalist fight against secular culture are part of an ideological pipeline that leads back to the Great Satan itself, with American far-right and evangelical organizations taking a strong interest in the post-Soviet space even before Fox News became Russian television’s favorite American channel.

All of which suggests that we should not take the Russian state’s anti-Satanic zeal at face value. And yet something about Russia’s war in Ukraine has repeatedly activated theocratic, reactionary forces. In November 2014, one of the military leaders of the self-proclaimed “Luhansk People’s Republic” announced plans to forbid women from entering bars, when they should be sitting at home practicing their cross-stitching. (“It’s time to remember that you’re Russian! Remember your spirituality!”)

It’s highly unlikely that Medvedev, Putin, or anyone high up in the Russian government believes they are fighting Satan, but their beliefs matter only so much. They are providing a permission structure for fanatics who are only too happy to stamp out the devil’s work wherever they might find it. Just as Putinism has always been a delicately calibrated mix of top-down initiatives and responses to the more belligerent sentiments in Russian society, so too is this Satanic vocabulary both the logical outcome of decades of mild moral panics and the latest (and possibly last) rhetorical ploy on the part of a regime that has backed itself into a corner.

The escalation from gays to Nazis to Satan follows a kind of video game logic: keeping the players engaged means finding ever-bigger bosses for them to fight. But where can you go after Satan? One hopes that the leadership of the Russian Federation is not charting a deliberately apocalyptic course, despite the disturbing chatter about nuclear warfare and Russians “going to heaven, while their enemies just croak.” But when your enemy is Satan, there is little room for negotiation, retreat, or surrender.

All of which scares the hell out of anyone paying attention. Still, there is one cause for hope: If there is any world leader who must have vast experience in making deals with the devil, it’s Vladimir Putin.

[anthrodynia]

hate hate hate hate

I’m so viscerally angry just, fucking. Sitting here and watching people do stupid shit. Something something “don’t feed the trolls”, good thing I don’t have to feed the trolls to be fucking pissed, huh?

The internet is a fucking shithole, Twitter’s a goddamn battleground and every breath you take on there is an expulsion of hatred and sorrow. Every single fucking thing you see is either thinly veiled agony or agony in its rawest, least distilled form. The pathetic use cruelty as a personality because it’s the only thing that they can think to do. They have nothing behind those eyes but hatred and scorn for a world that could offer everything to them.

I wake up and I am immediately just, turning on every single part of myself that worries about stupid shit like whether or not I’ll look cringe or stupid, or whether I’ll be too weird in front of my friends, everything that confines me and makes me a slave to others’ standards. It’s so fucking stupid. I’m so envious of people who can actually just live their fucking lives and love who they love and love the things they love and actually get to engage in the fandoms they’re in openly and honestly.

Like you say you’re a furry and it’s “Ah, you’re a freak.” Instantly, subconsciously, no room for getting to know another person. It’s easy, because the weirdest are the loudest and why try to get perspective from anyone else, right?

I LOVE going online and being hit with an unrelenting tidal wave of just how desperate everyone is to be able to bully other people! I know how hard it is to hold oneself back from the satisfaction of crushing someone else beneath your goddamn feet, it must fucking SUCK to have to go through your daily life being a functional fucking human, so it must be a really big relief that - after pretending to be a worthwhile person - you come online to target people who were minding their own goddamn business!

I cannot begin to fathom a more pathetic person than someone who hacks a community website trying to gain the admiration and attention of fucking KiwiFarms of all people - a ‘neutral’ website for the purposes of internet archiving (harassment, lolcow mentality, stalking, you-fucking-name-it). I ESPECIALLY cannot fathom doing all that and then having KiwiFarms disown you. You are the shit beneath my fucking shoe.

I live and breathe being on the fucking internet as a form of escapism from a life that demands I’m a soulless, loveless fucking machine all of the goddamn time. I’m the type of person who thinks working at OnlyFans would be leagues above because I’d at least have my own fucking money and people willing to kill for me. At least I’d tap into some fucking niche where people wanna fuck ugly girls actually. If I can’t go on the internet and think “Man, it’d be so much fun if I could just be a nonhuman animal so I don’t have to deal with all the shit in my life”, and think about that whenever I’m stressed out, I might as well just fucking axe myself.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? People like this think ‘survival of the fittest’ still applies to human beings. They probably think eugenics is a legitimate field of study and not a laughable fucking crock of shit. I bet these people think if your teeth aren’t formed the day you’re born you ought to be crushed on the goddamn spot. I bet that’s what they’d want the world to be like! Killing children for not fitting how their world should work.

People like them are pathetic. People who can’t even begin to examine their worldview and how it effects other people are fucking jackasses, there’s so much room for improvement but so many people don’t have the drive to try.

You ever notice that some of the most bloody, horrific, detestable murders are done by people convinced they’re normal and give a shit? Yeah, there’s crimes by socio- and psychopaths but at the very least they don’t go around acting like they’re on this glorious crusade to help the world at large. Usually they just have a singular goal in mind and go for it. Meanwhile some fucks think they have a point behind murder. Goddamn fucking pathetic.

You could not torture out of me the levels of pathetic whinging that comes out of the people who can’t fathom a different interest than theirs. I’ve seen some of all of it, I’ve been on the internet long enough to notice the patterns. All the same signs, all the puritanism disguised as ‘concern’, trying to alleviate their discomfort by saying “I’m uncomfortable so this is bad actually!”

I don’t want to be a human being, human beings are fucking stupid. I’d take being a dog or a cat or a fucking mouse over being a person. It’s not a difficult fucking concept, being a human has been nothing but trouble my whole life and all the animals that make me laugh are cute and protected and loved. I just want people to love me, I want to be loved, I want people to look at me and think, “The poor thing, she deserves so much more in life than what she’s got, I’ll help her, I’ll protect her, I’ll make sure she’s happy and safe.”

Because dogs get that and I don’t. Dogs are scary when they’re mad but they still get love. Dogs can smell bad and somebody’ll still hug them. Dogs are man’s best friend - I wanna be man’s best friend too. I wanna mean something to people, I want people to want me to be safe and happy just like any one of their pets. I’m a good person, I always do my best, and I want people to be happy that I do my best because I just hate how much people want to hurt others and I hate getting hurt all the time.

Do you know how ridiculous being a person is? You wake up in the morning and everybody around you is speaking a language that was invented and continues to be invented to this very day. Neologisms find their way into speech popularly and end up in the dictionary because it’s been said enough times to become part of culture. You wear clothes people tell you are pretty or not because that apparently matters and not whether or not they get the job done. You have to have all your clothes match, you have to brush your teeth, you have to make your hair all nice, you have to be stylish and pretty and warm and sunshine. You have to like being a woman but also we’ll treat women like shit. You have to like being a woman but you have been left with the original sin on your fingertips and every month you have to deal with the consequences. You have to like being a woman but everyone around you makes up new rules for being a woman every day. You have to like being a human but not too much because that’s weird. You have to like animals but not enough to wish you were one because what are you, some kind of freak? You have to like being alive but not enough to smile all the time because that’s weird and off-putting and if you laugh at your own jokes you just look retarded. You have to be strong, but if you’re too strong you’re a sociopath and you don’t cry when people die and what the fuck is the matter with you? You have to be soft, but not too soft because then people will take advantage of you and you know they’re all too eager to do that. You have to be smart, but not too smart or else you’re a jackass. You have to be dumb, but not too dumb or else you’re unbearable. Positive, but not too positive or else you’re annoying. Negative, but not too positive or else you’re STILL annoying.

I hate the tightrope so fucking much, let me fall off already. At least the lolcows can be their authentic selves still, at least they don’t have to deal with some ridiculous ratrace where you think you have everything figured out, but then everyone in the room looks at you like you’ve said something absolutely unbearable because you are unconsciously expected to always, always, always be micro-analyzing every single little thing and movement you do, because if you don’t you’re rude or awkward or goofy or unbearable or fucking annoying.

Sure, I can count the amount of times someone’s called me ‘annoying’ on both of my hands, but each time still fucking sucked because what the fuck am I supposed to do about that? I actively try to avoid interrupting people and I still fucking do, I can’t help myself, I don’t know when I’m supposed to fucking talk.

[jimothy-g-brooks]

My D&Derivative [Elves]

Elves, The People Of The Forest

The knife ears, for when anyone thinks of that slur, they think of elves. Like goblins, they are very good climbers, the whole lot of them, and no sense of vertigo. They have a racial preference for plant-life or at least plant-like and arboreal environments, trees that they can climb. These are fairly minor traits compared to the most famous, the agelessness of the elves.

Elves age at the same rate as humans, up to a point. Then, usually between fifteen and twenty-five, their aging comes to a screeching halt. Intuitively, each elf understands when this has happened to themselves and may somehow pick out small details on other elves that mark the difference between those have and have not had that happen to them.

Once this process begins, every elf operates under a clock. They will live for a century, exactly one hundred years, to the minute, from the moment they stop aging. Once the time runs out, the beautiful young looking adult will keel over dead. Elves nearing the scheduled end of their lives are well-known to become erratic.

Each of the elven breeds are largely matriarchal in their societies, though the exact form this female dominance takes varies from kind to kind.

Eladrin, the People Of The Tall Trees

The most well-known of the elves, the high elves seek out high up places to roost. They prefer to live in forests with big ass trees, like giant redwoods, roosting near the top. They also find living at the top of towers or on jutting mountain peaks to be acceptable, anything with a sharp drop to the bottom. They tend to be pale skinned, from peach to an unearthly snowy white, with hair that is either blonde to silver to stark black. Eye color can range all over the rainbow but almost never brown, gray or black.

Eladrin matriarchy is the most subtle, many of their culturally assigned gender roles fit the standard norm: men are warriors and manual laborers, women are homemakers and caretakers of children. However, high elves associate political and social power with the latter; they believe that the wisdom to keep ones own house is the same wisdom to maintain society, the skills to rear ones own children to translate to the skills of running a government. The idealized eladrin queen is a motherly figure, surrounded by doting courtiers and children alike.

The high elves believe themselves to be the chosen of Heaven, the goodly gods personal representatives on the mortal plane. In practice, this means they are constantly trying to impart wisdom onto others, perform acts of charity and contort themselves as if they were nobility, whether or not an individual has the power and prestige to actually back it up.

What this never has lead to is any attempts at outright imperialism, one fueled by self-righteous certainty of their holy crusade. Instead, eladrin communities tends to be rather insular, adopting isolationist policies whenever and wherever they can build little ghettos of their own. It's individuals who go out into the world, proselytizing the superior way to live and patronizingly chiding others with elven aesops or little tests.

They haven't done anything wrong, they're just annoying.

They aren't without flaw, some operate under the credo that only another elf or eladrin is worth dealing with fairly, or so insular and xenophobic they refuse to deal with anybody, though that may well be reticence and defensive posturing. But many rumors abound about them, that their knowledge and wisdom stretch back far deeper than anyone else, that they have a hand in many if not all the ancient forces of the world, that their hubris lost them the favor of the goodly and was responsible for unleashing the evil.

No proof of any of this, of course, just like the eladrin have no proof for their purported loftiness, but it's always a good excuse to burn down their homes.

Sylvani, the People Of The Misty Woods

The least-known of elves, spiritual cousins to tunnel goblins. Mist elves live wherever it is foggy and obscure, inside of dense, humid jungles or in sparse but equally humid swamps. They like it moist and they cannot stand dry climes, suffering from chapping rather quickly. They tend to have darker skin colors, ranging from tan to dark brown and the very occasional green, with hair and eyes the color of leaves, green, red, brown or yellow.

The form of matriarchy that the sylvani practice is one they barely deign to acknowledge. Gender roles appear non-existant among the mist elves, men and women perform the same tasks short of childbirth, but it's the women who seem to rise to positions of power. No comment is given on this.

They exaggerate the insularity of their eladrin cousins, living in the definition of Hidden Elf Villages tucked away in between trees and fog. They protect their little ethnostates fiercely, either through misdirection or violence at the end of a well-hidden marksbow. There are some tribes of mist elves that sell their services to the highest bidder as assassin, thieves and saboteurs.

Some sylvani kingdoms have even carried out expansionist policies, magically extending out the fog of their homes to cover their non-sylvani neighbors. They seed rumors of elven figures ghosting into towns to slaughter its inhabitants, encouraging the next folk who get magically swathed to simply clear out and let the sylvani take the land for themselves.

This fearsome reputation isn't true for all or even most sylvani communities, which are just as happy to be left alone to their own internal devices. However, this cloak of formidable mystery benefits them all, unlike the eladrin, as people inundated in the stories will give them a wide berth of respectful distance. Drow, the People Of The Mushroom Forests

The most gregarious of all the elves, and they live in the Underdark. Dark elves can see into the pitchest black but have sensitivity to bright light, preferring to walk under the starry-night sky or among their bioluminescent mushroom forests. Their skin colors can range from dark brown, coal black, shades of gray, blue and purple, with contrasting light colored hair of snow white, silvery gray, platinum blonde and the occasional shade of red, which can be a dark scarlet or the very odd pink. Most of them have red eyes, with purple or yellow showing up, sometimes other colors.

The particular form of elvish matriarchy the drow take is the simplest, an outright inversion of all expected gender roles, save the most biologically necessary.

Centuries ago, long enough ago to be out of living memory but not so long as to be a mere archaeological curiosity, a primarily drowish culture got really into imperialism and really into diablery and demonology. They thought themselves the masters of fiends and through that sought to become the masters of the world. Pouring out from the depths besides all the forces of Hell was a bad look, right up until their empire dramatically and spectacularly collapsed. That was when they learned they were not the masters after all. Nowadays, the drow live far more peaceful lives, tending to their mushroom crops and their herds of giant moles, acting as the primary merchants of the Underdark atop their giant spider mounts, between the other subterranean civilizations and between the surface. They are one of the primary sources of firedust and firedust weapons, and one of the most avid users, a holdover from their imperial days. Infamous drowish desperados skulk the shadowy tunnels with a dustwand at their hips.

Another imperial holdover are the fates of the surface-bound governor houses that once occupied the surface. Stripped of their legitimate power, they have since shifted over to something less legitimate, forming the various families of the Drowish Mafia. They have a strong association with another holdover of the Drowish Empire, the flesh-crafted warrior-race of the drider, now acting as enforcers for the various godmothers, if not running the show themselves.

The last imperial holdover is the sense of wary respect that drow are afforded. People mutter darkly about the Hellriding spider-jockeys but they also remember how those coal-skinned bastards almost ruled the world once. Some of them still dream of past glories, all of them operate under its shadow, almost a protective cloak more than a burden.

[pastelpaperplanes]

Big Ol Ask Post Pt. 3 I think

I haven’t drawn anything other than cursed or plain technical stuff w him 😔😔 have these for now but expect more soon!

anon a way back asked what he’d look like next to Overlord being already so big compared to Megs, that’s why you see Lordie if you’re wondering why he’s thrown in that line up!

by the way I have a voice claim for the big purple simp— Jenner from NIMH, he’s so awful but that suave baritone oh it fits too well >:] it’s the ‘humble servant’ line that got to me

Yep! Pharma is absolutely in this AU—as well as the CFau and Crack one too—and in all, he’s still an estranged medic long since booted from any legal work back on Cybertron.

He lost his credibility and more all those years ago when he found himself willing to do his fair share of cutting corners and hastily concealed malpractice to expedite his dream of getting his name down in the medical books—ultimately impressing his dear Mentor Ratchet, finally, in perfecting long-since banned risky experiments and surgeries—not to mention cruel and unusual temperament with the (supposedly) taboo practice of non-medicinal mnemosurgery.

His ambitions and aggression always got the bet of him, this hasn’t changed since he found himself working in freelance outposts. Light years away from Cybertron, he’s made a name for himself as a Good Doctor—but to his under-the-table black market part-dealing clients, he’s just about as bad as a Crooked Medic can get.

Bounty hunters and Arms Dealers like him for his business, a certain DJD member likes him for the occasional berth company and seemingly never ending supply of fresh T-Cogs—but no one actually likes him for his nasty temperamental personality, save for a young and naive Ratchet once upon a time.

Pharma is a roamer, as of recent he’s been a hard to reach mech—seems as if he’s found a little project to keep himself pretty occupied in the last few decades—something about a breakthrough for aiding the Decepticon Energon Crisis :] him and a small, horrifyingly cheerful surgeon are well on their way to completing their first trial batches, it’s safe to say that their little synthetic mixture will have it’s users sated and compliant.

they’ve got that amazing ‘new car smell’ those first few weeks, and instead of chittering like an Insecticons or vibrating their wings like a seeker—they beep and squeak, sometimes even honk a horn depending on the baseline altmode coding, to get their Creators’ attention before their vocalizer truly starts to kick online

It’s cute, but loud

Much like a seeker sparkling, they have to reach a certain ‘age’ (upgrade) to be able to transform completely, in between then they’re still able to rev those engines as a warning should they need it, as well as spin their wheels should they need a getaway HEELIES IF THEYRE LUCKY WOOHOOOOO—for seekers they can hover on their thrusters!

Crusade is actually pretty formal with Megatron. But yeah as a kid, Megs was always known as Carrier, but as Sadie got older and more aware of their surroundings—they definitely came to learn the true weight of that title and the fact that they were the progeny of the faction leader, a fact they should have really held onto with more pride. Not wanting to draw more attention to the already blatant favoritism (and nepotism) Crusade made a switch to addressing Megatron as Sir, My Lord, Lord Megatron, —ect. to better fit in with their fellow troops.

It bothers Megatron more than than he lets on. Crusade shouldn’t have to hide their high ranking as his child, the heir to the faction. Megs is their Carrier and can only order them around for so long, as their Leader however—pulling rank may just allow for their infuriatingly stubborn sparkling to listen to them should a day come where even a Carrier’s plea is dismissed.

Crusade does slip up every now and then and a ‘Carrier’ will slip—often hushed and annoyed though as Megs does like to tease every now and then, gotta remind them that they’re still his baby every once in a while :’)

Optimus however—whenever him and Crusade should truly reunite, will never be called Sire by Crusade, which they so heatedly established early on—Crusade never needed one and they don’t need one now, better to not let the title trigger those long-suppressed emotions. Sure enough though Optimus will get his moment.

actually no lmfao so you’re good! Eh, I haven’t mentioned much plot w them outside of them and Megs, plus bits of potential interactions with Optimus—so the rest of Team Prime is free game :D

For what I (hopefully will have) planned, their interactions with team Prime will be eh,,,interesting to each their own to say the least. Some more stressful than others BUT let’s not get into that until I’ve worked it out—for now I’ll just mention what they’re dynamics would be like when the drama of Oh Shit Boss Bot You’ve Been Hiding a Kid For HOW LONG has died down.

A usually touch-wary Crusade actually is the one to initiate a hug with Bulkhead, he’s the biggest and warmest and somehow is always happy to see them. Plus he tells cool recaps of Earth films and gifts them strange blobish paintings every now and then, all of which Crusade doesn’t exactly understand, but at least the colors are pretty.

Bee is annoying,,,which is what Crusade would say if confronted if they actually liked all the shenanigans Bee suggest they pull together, prank wars to the max, sparring for fun, video games?, DOUGHNUTS and RACES in the fortress halls??? Ahem. they are a super serious soldier, not a hooligan. But honestly, Bee is the one they seek out the most should they need an adventure, they missed out on a lot of this ‘fun’ growing up on the Nemesis—Bee seems to know how to balance a day of soldiering and dumbassery. sometimes.

Ratchet reminds them a bit too much of their Carrier than they’d care to admit. The medic is an old soul to his very core, perpetually tired but quick to snap into work mode, and sweet if you reallllllly squint. Sadie has been taught from day one to always respect medics, Ratchet obviously takes the cake on I’ve Seen Some Shit and for that alone Crusade both fears and admires Ratchet. Again, growing up on the Nemesis they didn’t have too many bots willing to talk much with them—but Ratchet (after he’s gone through his own lot of therapy, him AND Arcee. good lord) has a never ending pile of stories to share with them. Ratchet may throw in a few more colorful curses than necessary—which is SURPRISING bc Crusade thought they’d heard them all back home, but he’s entertaining and tells Crusade how it is, no sugarcoating. For that Crusade is grateful, there’s been too many half-truths thrown about to them in their recent years :’)

Ghost Prowl freaks them out—why does he deliberately have to be so sneaky?? Crusade has only met Prowl a fleeting handful of times (visits from the Allspark come with meaning, you know) and each time Crusade has been given nothing but odd riddles and poetic nonsense. Kidding. Prowl does like his wordplay’s but his given advice is always well meaning—the most firm and direct message Crusade has been passed though was probably most definitely “ Get those two cowards for mecha you call your Creator’s to stop fooling around with each other and SPEAK—at this rate it’s physically paining me that they haven’t begun Ritus and they’re not getting any younger”

Team Prime adores Sadie, they ask Megatron to see their sparkling photos every chance they catch him. And Crusade. hates it.

:) have

We’ve been here before, haven’t we?

[imagininghierophant]

Their s/o having a laugh of a psychopath?

My partner says I have such a villainous cackle so I can relate to this! Here you go anon ☺️ -Bambi

How the Crusaders would react to you having a laugh of a psychopath

⭐ Jotaro Kujo ⭐

► Jotaro would raise his brow. He did not expect a laugh like that coming from you. It almost took him off guard. He remains unfazed on the outside, though. “Good grief, you’d think you went insane with a laugh like that.”

► The corners of his mouth can’t help but tug into a smile after hearing your laughter over time; he loves to see you delighted.

► If you were around the Crusaders and you were in the middle of a laughing fit, Jotaro would mention to them: “You get use to it,”

🍒 Noriaki Kakyoin 🍒

► Have you heard Kakyoin’s laugh? You both were meant for each other based on your laughs alone. One person sounding so psychotic that they lost their sanity years ago, and the other sounds like the devil himself possessed them.

► Those few times where you both are in fits of laughter, Kakyoin cherishes those moments greatly. He feels so close to you, sharing laughter like this.

► Imagine you are laughing so hard you are in stitches, the Crusaders look at you, baffled and confused on why you were laughing like that, besides Kakyoin who would input: “Never change [Y/N].”

🗡️ Jean Pierre Polnareff 🗡️

► Polnareff would be the type of person to laugh when someone else is laughing regardless of what type of laugh is it. Your laughter amuses him.

► Whenever you laugh a little to yourself, Polnareff would immediately imitate your laughter as a way to poke fun at you, all in a good manner, though. “HEHEHEH, that’s what you sound like.”

► Without a doubt would tickle your sides only to hear your psycho laugh; he can’t help himself sometimes.

🔥 Muhammad Avdol 🔥

► Avdol, at first, would show concern, he would say something that you thought was funny, and you’d start cackling. He would sit there with parted lips. “You okay, [Y/N]? Did I say something odd?”

► If you got too loud in public like a café, He would put his finger to his mouth; Avdol isn’t the type to draw attention; he loves your laugh. Don’t get him wrong, just not the attention and public glances that come with it. 

► Once you’ve calmed down from laughing, Avdol would gently pat your head. He loves you very much and just wants the best for you. 

✈️ Joseph Joestar ✈️

► Joseph would brush it off as if it was a usual laugh; his laughter tends to be historical, so he finds it quite normal, oddly enough.

► If you are laughing at a joke you just thought of, Joseph wants to hear it. “What you laughing at? Come on, share!”

► Joseph would tell family and friends about you and say that you have such an adorable laugh; to peoples surprise, it’s pretty different from how they imagined it.