#heavy topics

[dailyadventureprompts]

Monsters Reimagined: Bandits

As a game of heroic fantasy that centers so primarily on combat, D&D  is more often than not a game about righteous violence, which is why I spend so much time thinking about the targets of that violence. Every piece of media made by humans is a thing created from conscious or unconscious design, it’s saying something whether or not its creators intended it to do so. 

Tolkien made his characters peaceloving and pastoral, and coded his embodiment of evil as powerhungry, warlike, and industrial. When d&d directly cribbed from Tolkien's work it purposely changed those enemies to be primitive tribespeople who were resentful of the riches the “civilized” races possessed. Was this intentional? None can say, but as a text d&d says something decidedly different than Tolkien. 

That's why today I want to talk about bandits, the historical concept of being an “outlaw”, and how media uses crime to “un-person” certain classes of people in order to give heroes a target to beat up. 

Tldr: despite presenting bandits as a generic threat, most d&d scenarios never go into detail about what causes bandits to exist, merely presuming the existence of outlaws up to no good that the heroes should feel no qualms about slaughtering. If your story is going to stand up to the scrutiny of your players however, you need to be aware of WHY these individuals have been driven to banditry, rather than defaulting to “they broke the law so they deserve what’s coming to them.”

I got to thinking about writing this post when playing a modded version of fallout 4, an npc offhndedly mentioned to me that raiders (the postapoc bandit rebrand) were too lazy to do any farming and it was good that I’d offed them by the dozens so that they wouldn’t make trouble for those that did. 

That gave me pause, fallout takes place in an irradiated wasteland where folks struggle to survive but this mod was specifically about rebuilding infrastructure like farms and ensuring people had enough to get by. Lack of resources to go around was a specific justification for why raiders existed in the first place, but as the setting became more arable the mod-author had to create an excuse why the bandit’s didn’t give up their violent ways and start a nice little coop, settling on them being inherently lazy , dumb, and psychopathic.   

This is exactly how d&d has historically painted most of its “monstrous humanoid” enemies. Because the game is ostensibly about combat the authors need to give you reasons why a peaceful solution is impossible, why the orcs, goblins, gnolls (and yes, bandits), can’t just integrate with the local town or find a nice stretch of wilderness to build their own settlement on and manage in accordance with their needs. They go so far in this justification that they end up (accidently or not) recreating a lot of IRL arguments for persecution and genocide.

Bandits are interesting because much like cultists, it’s a descriptor that’s used to unperson groups of characters who would traditionally be inside the “not ontologically evil” bubble that’s applied to d&d’s protagonists.   Break the law or worship the wrong god says d&d and you’re just as worth killing as the mindless minions of darkness, your only purpose to serve as a target of the protagonist’s righteous violence.  

The way we get around this self-justification pitfall and get back to our cool fantasy action game is to relentlessly question authority, not only inside the game but the authors too. We have to interrogate anyone who'd show us evil and direct our outrage a certain way because if we don't we end up with crusades, pogroms, and Qanon.

With that ethical pill out of the way, I thought I’d dive into a listing of different historical groups that we might call “Bandits” at one time or another and what worldbuilding conceits their existence necessitates. 

Brigands: By and large the most common sort of “bandit” you’re going to see are former soldiers left over from wars, often with a social gap between them and the people they’re raiding that prevents reintegration ( IE: They’re from a foreign land and can’t speak the local tongue, their side lost and now they’re considered outlaws, they’re mercenaries who have been stiffed on their contract).  Justifying why brigands are out brigading is as easy as asking yourself “What were the most recent conflicts in this region and who was fighting them?”. There’s also something to say about how a life of trauma and violence can be hard to leave even after the battle is over, which is why you historically tend to see lots of gangs and paramilitary groups pop up in the wake of conflict. 

Raiders:  fundamentally the thing that has caused cultures to raid eachother since the dawn of time is sacristy. When the threat of starvation looms it’s far easier to justify potentially throwing your life away if it means securing enough food to last you and those close to you through the next year/season/day. Raider cultures develop in biomes that don’t support steady agriculture, or in times where famine, war, climate change, or disease make the harvests unreliable. They tend to target neighboring cultures that DO have reliable harvests which is why you frequently see raiders emerging from “the barbaric frontier” to raid “civilization” that just so happens to occupy the space of a reliably fertile river valley. When thinking about including raiders in your story, consider what environmental forces have caused this most recent and previous raids, as well as consider how frequent raiding has shaped the targeted society. Frequent attacks by raiders is how we get walled palaces and warrior classes after all, so this shit is important. 

Slavers: Just like raiding, most cultures have engaged in slavery at one point or another, which is a matter I get into here. While raiders taking captives is not uncommon, actively attacking people for slaves is something that starts occurring once you have a built up slave market, necessitating the existence of at least one or more hierarchical societies that need more disposable workers than then their lower class is capable of providing. The roman legion and its constant campaigns was the apparatus by which the imperium fed its insatiable need for cheap slave labor. Subsistence raiders generally don’t take slaves en masse unless they know somewhere to sell them, because if you’re having trouble feeding your own people you’re not going to capture more ( this is what d&d gets wrong about monstrous humanoids most of the time). 

Tax Farmers: special mention to this underused classic, where gangs of toughs would bid to see who could collect money for government officials, and then proceed to ransack the realm looking to squeeze as much money out of the people as possible. This tends to happen in areas where the state apparatus is stretched too thin or is too lighthanded to have established enduring means of funding.  Tax farmers are a great one-two punch for campaigns where you want your party to be set up against a corrupt authority: our heroes defeat the marauding bandits and then oh-no, turns out they were not only sanctioned by the government but backed by an influential political figure who you’ve just punched in the coinpurse.  If tax farming exists it means the government is strong enough to need a yearly budget but not so established (at least in the local region) that it’s developed a reliably peaceful method of maintaining it.  

Robber Baron: Though the term is now synonymous with ruthless industrialists, it originated from the practice of shortmidned petty gentry (barons and knights and counts and the like) going out to extort and even rob THEIR OWN LANDS out of a desire for personal enrichment/boredom. Schemes can range from using their troops to shake down those who pass through their domain to outright murdering their own peasants for sport because you haven’t gotten to fight in a war for a while.  Just as any greed or violence minded noble can be a robber baron so it doesn’t take that much of a storytelling leap but I encourage you to channel all your landlord hate into this one. 

Rebels: More than just simple outlaws, rebels have a particular cause they’re a part of (just or otherwise) that puts them at odds with the reigning authority. They could violently support a disfavoured political faction, be acting out against a law they think is unjust, or hoping to break away from the authority entirely. Though attacks against those figures of authority are to be expected, it’s all too common for rebels to go onto praying on common folk for the sake of the cause.  To make a group of rebels worth having in your campaign pinpoint an issue that two groups of people with their own distinct interests could disagree on, and then ratchet up the tension. Rebels have to be able to beleive in a cause, so they have to have an argument that supports them.

Remnants: Like a hybrid of brigands, rebels, and taxfarmers, Remnants represent a previously legitimate system of authority that has since been replaced but not yet fully disappeared. This can happen either because the local authority has been replaced by something new (feudal nobles left out after a monarchy toppling revolution) or because it has faded entirely ( Colonial forces of an empire left to their own devices after the empire collapses). Remnants often sat at the top of social structures that had endured for generations and so still hold onto the ghost of power ( and the violence it can command) and the traditions that support it.  Think about big changes that have happened in your world of late, are the remnants looking to overturn it? Win new privilege for themselves? Go overlooked by their new overlords?

Art

#monsters reimagined #bandits #dnd #dungeons and dragons #d&d #ttprg #pathfinder #heavy topics #monsters reimagined

[blue-phoria]

what it feels like some days

#proship #heavy topics

[thebad-lydrawn-sanses]

Okay wait so dream had a vision of the future kinda like what shattered dream had and tried to change the future is that what happened?

Dream: my eyelights Nightmare: the villagers are giving us a lot of stuff. it's nice. Dream: my eyelights. Nightmare: i like your new eyelights. Dream: please keep yours. Nightmare: …I'll try?

Villager: Dream, I need to talk to you. Dream: oh! is this about your dislike of my brother or your house burning down? i heard about it. that must've really sucked :) busy lately? Villager: uh- yeah. My sister was terribly injured in the fire, so we need apples for her recovery.

Villager: my mommy told me to give you this Dream: thank you, Charlie. tell your mom i said hi. Villager: it's a pie. Dream: thank you. Villager: she says your brother is a bad person and should be executed. i think i agree, 'cuz he's really scary. Dream: he's really nice. you should be nice to him. Villager: oh. okay! he's still really scary though.

Prophecy Nightmare: HEY. Dream: AAAAAA-

Villagers: "Are you okay?" "Dream, can I get an apple?" "Are you okay?" "Are you okay?" "Are you okay?" "Can I have an apple?" "Are you okay?" "Are you okay?"

Nightmare: are you gonna sleep tonight? Dream: no Nightmare: did i- do something wrong-? Dream: no Nightmare: are you okay? Dream: no Dream: yes

Prophecy Nightmare: LYING TO YOUR BRO? COLD. Dream: god damn it

#dream sans #nightmare sans #past events #heavy topics #eye strain #i think #dissasociation #insomnia #sleep deprivation #hallucinations #arson #implied violence #child abuse #house burning #manipulation #death wishes #death mentions #death threats #kind of #discrimination #maybe? #most of this is tagged so people can filter it out so i want to cover all the bases #queue

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: Oh, Maker

"The humans are strange and graceful as they explore the garden, explore themselves, explore each other. The trouble is, the humans stare back, which makes him uncomfortable; there’s nothing particularly interesting about him. And, though he rarely admits it to himself, the humans make him lonely; he has no Other to explore." Or: how many times can you take a bath with your best friend before you kiss him?

Length: 57,034 words

AO3 Rating: Explicit / Spice Level 🔥🔥🔥

Best for: Mostly Safe in Public, At Home, Angst, Romance, Slow Burn

Triggers: None/ Religious Trauma themes

Read it here, fic by voluptatiscausa

*Minor Spoilers* I've had this fic bookmarked for months, I love this author and all the stories of theirs I've read. But my ADHD often has me piling on more without diving into what I already have saved. So, when I was about to begin the author's latest fic, I paused. I realized I needed to prioritize this story first, and appreciate it fully. And now, I want you to do the same!

This is a pre season 2 "through the ages" story, visiting some of the historical settings we're familiar with and adding new ones as well. We watch as the weight of the world hangs on Aziraphale and Crowley’s shoulders. The impossibility of alleviating human suffering, the pain of being abandoned by their Creator, their Mother, and the lingering desperation for her approval. So when they've burnt out, they turn to each other. They comfort each other with warm intimacy through baths, manicures, brushing each other's hair, each taking care of the other and showing us how holy love can be. It's gorgeous and heartbreaking all at once. Their love is so true, even if they have trouble believing they're worthy of being loved and desired. “It’s because love can’t be earned, sweetheart. It’s given.”

The beauty of fanfic is that it can exceed the canon. This is not just in character; to me it's more in character than the canon itself. The book and show are comedies; they don't have time to dive this deeply into their characters' motivations and histories. And, of course, that's not a bad thing, especially since it brought us all here. But when I read something like this, something that brings a real depth and understanding to the characters, I'm amazed. This isn’t the only fic I’ve felt this way about, but it’s a prime example of that feeling. It’s just that, when I read a story that specifically focuses on their entire 6,000 years together and all the history they’ve gone through, I get frustrated that those moments are played for laughs in the book/show. The Flood, the Crucifixion, the Spanish Inquisition all throw away lines that don’t stop to dive into the wealth of story that’s possible there. I get why it doesn’t linger, I do, but fic narratives are so much more interesting to me than what the canon alone can provide.

This is a deeply moving and powerful story. Full of musings on shame, desire, religious trauma, and the beauty of the world we live in. Life is a terrible and wonderful thing. While this is mostly safe for public, I really suggest making this an at home read. It's a bit heavier, something you want to be in the right headspace for, and it features very rich prose. Never dense or hard to follow, but very beautiful, and you'll want to give it your full attention. I realize I may have made this seem like full angst, but it’s not! There's some wonderful loving fluffy moments to be found as well. Be sure to check out the other works that belong in this series! They are devastatingly good as well. Pair with some fruit for the full effect!

Read it here, fic by voluptatiscausa

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #fanfic rec #aziracrow #good omens fic rec #aziraphale x crowley #Oh Maker #voluptatiscausa #mostly safe in public #at home #slow burn #canon timeline #pre s2 #canon divergence #through the ages #angst #romance #hurt comfort #religious trauma #heavy topics #three flames

[saelique]

YOU’RE SUCH A STRANGE GIRL . . .

ᡣ𐭩 ・tw : dark n triggering themes ( mental health issues, etc etc. ) it’s bsd, what did u expect ?? reader is somewhat acts like sumire !! not a healthy relationship, fem reader & reader is unstable <3 kinda of a au but not at da same time </3 hhhhhhh reader is a noble + fyodor is da butler !! > <

FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY X READER

ᘛ⁐ᕐᐷ ・꒰ the story of two humans (?) who wish to rid the world of sin. ㅤ꒱

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 . . . secrets and affairs .

tbc . . .

#౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆ 📔 : novels ! #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #fyodor x reader #x reader #x reader angst #x reader fluff #heavy topics #bsd x reader angst #bsd x reader fluff #bsd fluff #bsd angst #Fyodor fluff #fyodor angst

[certifiedcallahanstan]

The memoir of a horny fangirl

chapter 2

Warnings: This is a pretty heavy chapter, it shows a really vulnerable side to Hazel and the shitty side of the reader. I had to get this chapter done, so the rest can be lighter and more *spicy*. The next chapter will get back to baseball hazel!!

This chapter contains: sa

It’s been a couple days since you had received the picture and you know you shouldn’t be upset, Hazel is a grown woman and is allowed to kiss whomever she wants, it’s not like you two are together anyways. That however doesn’t stop you from trying to avoid her.

P.J invites you to the coffee shop with Josie and Brittany to do quote on quote “studying” which really means she wants to talk to you all about her latest hook up.

Despite your initial reluctance, you find yourself getting caught up in the conversation.

“and i mean it wasn’t a fucking normal sized strap, that shit was like- fucking xxl” P.J moves her hands at least a feet apart from eachother trying to demonstrate the size and josie scrunches up her nose.

“I don’t need to hear that P.J, you keep that to yourself” she huffs and you cover your mouth trying to stop a laugh from escaping.

For a brief moment, the weight of your emotions regarding Hazel and the photo fade into the background as you lose yourself in the conversation until eventually Brittany convinces everyone that we should probably study.

You pull out your notes adorned with doodles of different sea creatures and facts about them when you hear a familiar voice approach the table.

“Hey guys” the voice that belongs to the shaggy brunette starts “Josie told me you all were studying and that..” she looks at her phone reading the text “We are about to kill P.J, please come before one of us commits a felony”

P.J just responds with a huff a mutters something along the lines of “you all are just mad i get more hoes” as Hazel pulls out a chair and joins the group.

You scoot slightly more away from Hazel hoping nobody will notice. unfortunately these chairs are millenniums old and makes and obnoxious screeching noise

You cringe inwardly, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up your cheeks as all eyes turn in your direction.

Hazel's gaze flickers briefly in your direction, her brow furrowing in confusion at the sudden noise.

"Sorry about that," you mumble, offering a sheepish smile as you try to play off the noise. "These chairs are... uh, not the most cooperative."

Everyone seems to accept that excuse as they get back to their previous tasks. You start shading in the sea creature you were previously drawing in your journal when you feel P.J looming over you.

“what the fuck knuckles is that” she says as she points at your drawing

you look down at a your notebook where you had draw what looks like a eel-shark hybrid

“it’s called a frilled shark” you start explaining as all eyes look at you “they get their name from the frilly appearance of their gill sets. In fact they’re one of the few sharks that eat their prey whole…”

You trail off awkwardly, realizing that you may have gone a bit overboard with your explanation when you see everyone blankly staring at you. Clearing your throat, you try to steer the conversation back on track.

"Anyway, um... yeah, it's just a cool creature I thought I'd draw," you finish lamely

“I think it’s sick”

you turn your head to the voice and see Hazel smiling at you “i mean a shark that moves like an eel?”

"Yeah, exactly!" you respond, a smile spreading across your face as you meet Hazel's gaze. "It's pretty fascinating how they've adapted to their environment."

fuck why does she have to be so damn irresistible.

your thoughts are cut off by the slamming of a text book and you see Brittany getting up “my brain feels all mushy, im going home to take a nap”

Josie nods, putting her computer in her back pack “i should probably get back to Isabel” and P.J mutters something about going to “fuck then duck” whatever that means.

Soon enough it’s just you and Hazel, you try to ignore the tension, but damn it’s so thick you could cut it with a knife.

For a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence stretching between you as you both seem lost in your own thoughts. You fidget nervously, unsure of what to say.

Finally, Hazel clears her throat, breaking the silence with a hesitant smile. "So... um, how have you been?" she asks, her voice soft and tentative.

You swallow, trying to push aside the swirling emotions that threaten to overwhelm you. "I've been okay," you reply, your voice slightly strained. "Just... you know, trying to stay busy with school and stuff."

and not making out with random red heads and getting chlamydia you add in your head.

Hazel nods, her gaze flickering briefly as she seems to search for the right words. "Yeah, I get that," she says quietly “hey um..have you been avoiding me? i’ve tried to text you but you haven’t answered and everytime i try to come up to you you walk the opposite direction”

your jaw clenches as you start putting everything in your shark printed back pack “what reason would i have to avoid you Hazel” your voice tinged with frustration and hurt.

she runs her ringed fingers through her hair and you try not to notice the prominent veins “that’s what i’m trying to figure out, did i do something?”

“not everything is about you callahan” you grunt out as you try to gather all your loose papers

“here let me help-“

“i don’t need your help” you shove her arm away and in the process her hand hits an open water bottle spilling water all over your notebook. the notebooks that has three years worth of research in it

A sense of panic washes over you as you scramble to salvage what you can, frantically wiping at the water with trembling hands. Hazel watches helplessly, her expression a mixture of concern and regret.

"I'm sorry," she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to... I was just trying to..."

You cut her off with a sharp gesture, your own frustration boiling over as you struggle to contain your emotions. "Just... leave me alone, Hazel," you mutter, your voice thick with emotion.

she steps back as her eyebrows knit together “this wouldn’t have happened if you just let me help. Maybe instead of pushing people away talk to them”

You can see the hurt etched in her features, and for a moment, you feel a pang of guilt tug at your conscience.

"I'm sorry, I just..." you begin, your voice catching in your throat as tears threaten to spill from your eyes. With a heavy sigh, you toss your notebook into the trash and sling your backpack over your shoulder

"I have to go," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as you turn away, unable to face Hazel in that moment. With each step you take, the distance between you and Hazel grows, the ache of regret gnawing at your heart.

Hazel just presses her lips together and nods before you see the same red head from the photo calling her name in an annoying high pitched voice.

You watch in silence as Hazel hesitates, her eyes briefly searching yours for any sign of a response. Before you can gather your thoughts, she turns away, putting on a fake smile as the red-headed girl approaches.

"What's up, Becca?" she says, her tone polite but strained, the artificiality of her smile not escaping your notice.

you turn away, knowing that it's not your place to intervene in Hazel's personal life. And also if you stayed there someone would be getting punched in the face, and here’s a hint. it wasn’t going to be you.

—————————————

“Did you say sorry at least?” Isabel ask as you lay upside down on her bed, letting the blood flow rush to your head to try to forget about what Josie now calls “they great water incident” that happened last week

"Yeah, I did," you reply with a sigh, your voice muffled from your upside-down position. “kinda.. i dunno. I mean you should’ve seen the way that becky, bexar, what ever the fuck her name is held onto her”

P.J shoves a handful of chips into her mouth and shrugs “i say kill the bitch”

Josie tosses a pillow at her face and huffs “We already have one murderous charge against us, we don’t need another”

Isabel nods in agreement. "Exactly. We'll figure this out without resorting to murder,"

“fine” P.J huffs holding her hands in the air “but just know that i know people”

“mhmm” you hum as you launch yourself back into an upright position on the bed stealing chips from P.J’s bowl.

As the group starts debating whether han solo or darth vader would be better in bed, you can’t help but wonder at this exact moment what hazel is doing.

——————————————

Hazel sits on her bed in her apartment talking about how the frilled shark can unhinge their jaw and eat prey at least twice their size as the red head sits and stares at her.

Hazel has never been one for social cues, she sincerely honestly thought that Rebecca just needed a friend, and sure they made out at the party but in her defense her face looked similar to yours in the midst of her 6 shots.

So here they are in Hazels apartment, Hazel blabbering about the eel-shark abomination (that she most definitely didn’t spend five hours researching after finding out about it)

“Rebecca? did you hear what i said” she stops and tilts her head with wide eyes

Rebecca nods and turns to Hazel “mhm- yeah the shark is like- long or some shit”

“you seem distracted” the brunette mutters “and it’s not called a long shark it’s called a frilled shark because-“ her sentence is interrupted when she hears Rebecca let out a drawn out sigh and move closer to Hazel.

“Yeah that’s kinda gross Hazey and i’m bored so how about we have some fun…”

“i don’t know what you mean-“ hazel starts before the girl lifts her shirt off and suddenly Hazel realizes why this girl has been being so nice to her.

"I... I don't think that's a good idea," Hazel stammers, her voice tinged with unease as she shifts uncomfortably on the bed.

“come on baby” Rebecca whines as she crawls into an unwilling Hazels lap “I’ve heard how good you are in bed”

And it’s true, Hazel was amazing in bed and she has had her fair share of hookups, but usually she knows about them before.

"Rebecca, I... I really don't think this is a good idea," Hazel insists, her voice shaky as she gently tries to push Rebecca away. "I'm not interested in anything like that right now."

“shhh” Rebecca whispers out as she slams her lips against Hazels and suddenly everything seems too much, Rebecca’s lips are wet, the lights are too bright, the AC is too loud. Panic grips her as she struggles to push Rebecca away, her thoughts a jumble of fear and confusion.

"Stop," Hazel manages to choke out, her voice barely audible over the rush of blood in her ears. She pushes against Rebecca's chest with all her strength, her heart pounding with urgency.

Rebecca pulls back, frustration evident on her face. "What's wrong?" she demands, her voice tinged with irritation.

Hazel's chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath, her mind reeling with a flood of emotions. "I... I told you to stop," she says, her voice trembling

Rebecca's expression darkens, her features contorted with anger as she takes a step forward. "You're just playing hard to get,"

Hazel manages to push Rebecca off her lap and quickly stands up, putting some distance between them.

"I think it's best if you leave," she says firmly, her voice trembling slightly with the effort to maintain composure.

With a frustrated huff, Rebecca storms out of the room, leaving Hazel alone with her racing thoughts and pounding heart. As she sinks onto the bed she grabs her phone with shakey hands and presses your contact then the call button.

“Hey what’s up” your voice bellows out from Hazels phone

“Hey i don’t know what-“

“HAHA JK this is my voice mail, leave a message or don’t i don’t care” your voice interrupts and Hazel can’t help the tears that fall down her face

“Hey..i don’t know if you’ll see this but Rebecca was here and i thought we were just friends, i mean i know i kissed her but i was drunk and..anyways we were talking and-“ Hazels voice cracks “-and she climbed on me and i told her to get off but she didn’t and- and she kissed me and maybe it’s my fault but..i don’t know what the point of calling you is because i’m pretty sure you hate me. I dunno, i just needed to tell someone.”

She presses the hang up button and brings her knees to her chest letting out a sob. How could she have been so stupid? Flash backs of when her dad would buy her these new suits and buttons up because he knew you hated dresses, but then make her get dressed in front of him flashed back into her mind.

Despite her best efforts to push those memories aside, they continue to haunt her, casting a shadow over her as she cries herself eventually to sleep.

———————————

it’s not until two days later that you see the voice mail, you’re sitting in your biology class with your airpod in when you click the play button.

“What the fuck?!” you blurt out when it finishes and suddenly all eyes are on you.

You smile sheepishly as you gather all of your belongings and rush out of the classroom calling P.J

after three rings she answers with a “I’m talking to this really hot chick so this better be important”

“You remember when we said that we weren’t going to kill anyone anymore”

P.J hums “well YOU ALL said that, i never actually agreed to it”

“Yeah well…it’s time for some killing..or at least seriously maiming”

as you explained the situation to P.J, the last thing she said before she hung up was

“let’s go kick some leprechaun ass”

————————————

Okay so YOU didn’t kick some leprechaun ass, P.J insisted she could take Rebecca herself and you assuming it went well because as you were driving (well over the speed limit) to Hazels house you receive a message from P.J saying “i’m like 75% sure she’s still alive, anyways if police come questioning you, say a rabid bear attacked her”

You chose not to question her further.

You get to Hazels house and you take a deep breath, you’ve never been good at comforting people, usually you just pat their back and give them water. You assume that probably won’t work for this situation .

Taking a deep breath, you exit your car and make your way to Hazel's apartment. Each step feels heavier than the last, the weight of the situation bearing down on you with each passing moment.

you knock on the door three times fast, two slow, that was your signature knock for her since middle school. As the door swings open, you're greeted by the sight of Hazel, her eyes red-rimmed from tears. Without a word, you pull her into a tight embrace, holding her close.

“y-you came-“ Hazel mutters out as you pull away and she wipes her eyes

“yeah of course haze, im sorry i didn’t see the voice mail till today”

Hazel nods, her expression grateful as she steps back, allowing you to enter her apartment. As you settle into the living room, Hazel gestures for you to take a seat on the couch beside her. You can sense her hesitancy, so you squeeze her hand and softly smile.

“you can talk to me about whatever, you know that right haze?”

Hazel meets your gaze, her eyes reflecting a mixture of emotions—vulnerability, fear, and a glimmer of hope. With a shaky breath, she begins to recount the events of that night, pouring out her heart and soul to you.

And all you saw was fucking red. How the fuck could someone do this to her Hazel, her sweet, beautiful, funny Hazel?

Your heart pounds in your chest as Hazel's words sink in, each one feeling like a blow to your own sense of justice. Anger simmers beneath the surface as you listen to the betrayal she endured, your grip on her hand tightening instinctively.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you meet Hazel's gaze with determination burning in your eyes. "Hazel, I am so sorry that you had to go through that," you say, your voice firm but gentle. "But I promise you, we will get through this together. I won't let anyone hurt you like that again."

Hazel coughs out a laugh and looks at you with wet eyes “That’s supposed to be my line”

You smile softly at her response, a flicker of warmth spreading through your chest. "Well, consider it borrowed for now," you say, returning her gaze with sincerity. "Because I mean every word of it. I'm here for you, Hazel, no matter what."

In that moment, as you sit together in quiet solidarity, you know that your bond with Hazel runs deeper than words can express. And with that unspoken understanding, you both find solace in each other's presence.

#hazel callahan #hazel callahan fanfiction #josie bottoms #wlw post #pj bottoms #bottoms 2023 #bottoms movie #hazel callahan x reader #Sad hazel callahan #annoying reader #it gets more interesting i promise #the reader gets less annoying in the next chapter #angst with a happy ending #heavy topics

[tavyliasin]

All We Cannot Have - Halsin x f!Tav One Shot

Some things magic cannot heal, and Tav has held her secrets close to her chest for a long time. It was just her luck to fall for the one man who clearly longed for something out of reach... When the world felt like it was ending, his love was a comfort, his embrace a rock in the storm. But now the seas are calm once more, she knows she has to let go, to swim away and leave him the chance to find what he wants most even if it has to be without her.

And yet... Letting go is harder than holding on ever was.

--- Click Here to read on AO3

2,386 words Pairing: Tav/Halsin SPICE Rating: 0.5/5 Content Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fertility/Infertility,

Spoilers References to all acts and epilogue Canon Compliance Almost everything is canon except the character circumstances Other Notes This is a heavy and emotional chapter, so if the content is at all troubling you please feel free to skip it, or ensure you have support for your wellbeing.

Mood/Song Fear Not This Night by Freya Catherine and Jack Victor "Distant sounds of melodies calling through the night to your heart. Auroras, mists and echoes dance in the solitude of our life. Pleading silent arias gently grieving in captive misery. Darkness sings a forlorn song and yet our hope can still rise up. Nightmares come when shadows grow. Lift your voice, lift your heart.

Fear not this night, you will not go astray. Though shadows fall, still the stars find their way. And though the night sky's filled with blackness... Fear not rise up... come on and take my hand. Fear not this night, you will not go astray. Though shadows fall, still the stars find their way."

----- FULL ONE SHOT FIC BELOW THE CUT -----

Tav first noticed it at the Tiefling party. Of everyone there, he was the one speaking with the refugees, a light at the heart of the celebration. Halsin’s laughter was warm and soft, echoing around the clearing as the children hung from his arms, climbing on tables to leap onto his back. Her heart warmed even as the tears sprang unbidden to her eyes, a lingering pain still stinging in old wounds she refused to reveal.  The next time was with Arabella, the druid quietly comforting her after the fate of her parents had been uncovered. He was patient with the girl, despite how abrasive she was in the heat of her grief at first. He let her calm as he made small honey treats, the smell of the cooking eventually luring her over to try one. Tav stayed back. She had done enough damage for one day - there was never going to be a right way to tell the girl her parents were gone, after all. Arabella would only be more upset if she got involved… Not long after came Thaniel, both halves of him. Watching him carry the boy - a child by appearance alone, he was likely older than both her and Halsin put together - broke her heart in two. The worry on his face, the determination to do what was right for both of them, the deep and unwavering care was evident in every word and action. When the curse was finally lifting, she was sure he might weep as they watched the land returning to what it always should have been, the smiles of Thaniel and Oliver both reflecting in his eyes.  Even at the Last Light Inn, several times Tav saw Halsin sneaking extra rations to the refugee children, slipping a couple of coins to them, leaving things they might like unattended where they could be “stolen”. 

It had been half a century since she last thought of anything like this. She thought it might easily be another full one too, but there he was, and all the emotions were stirring without permission. Still, against better judgement, Tav’s blue-tinted skin took on a violet hue when he looked her way, the blush rising to the tips of her pointed ears. They were close in age, the moon elf finding herself drawn to her cousin-kin easily, and by all accounts they were a perfect match in every way…except that one. She would give him the world, had she any choice in the matter, but the world could not give them what his heart clearly longed for. The city was little different, first with Yenna coming to camp, then with seeing the refugees again… It was getting harder and harder to ignore it. Halsin loved them, every single one, and his face would light up brighter than the sun when they smiled. It was like he was born for the role, even though he pushed it all aside, choosing to risk his life for Tav and her friends, for a city he had no stake in… Selfless to a fault. How could she not fall in love with him? His warmth and kindness further warmed by the way she felt in his arms, the way his lips caressed her skin, how fully he would give himself over to her. Halsin was everything she had ever dreamed of in a lifetime of wanderlust. And how it broke Tav’s heart to know it couldn’t last… After the final battle, the party had lasted long into the night, and their personal celebration went past the break of dawn. One last time, she told herself, one time to remember, to sear him into her memory. 

—

The soft light of the morning sun was filtering through patchwork curtains as they began to rise - much as she might wish, staying in his arms forever was not an option. The comfort of warm blankets and a warmer embrace could not last. Halsin’s soft eyes caught the look in her own. “My heart? You look troubled, what is it? Was I too…excited, last night? Lay down, let me take care of you-” 

“No, it’s not that. You were perfect, as always.” Tav cut him off, pulling back a little, gathering her clothes to pull them back on. Maybe for the last time… It had to be. For his sake, no matter what she wanted. “What are your plans from here? For the future?”

“My love, I thought we had spoken of this. I know for certain now. The lands you helped me to heal, it will make the perfect home for everyone who is lacking one. We can rebuild. There are many who will never feel this city as a home, many more who are not welcomed by the current residents…” He reached out to touch her cheek, but she withdrew the moment he made contact like she had been scalded. She regretted it the moment she heard the hurt in his voice.  “Did I do something wrong? Was it something I said? I was hoping you would join me, to build our new home together.” 

“I’m not right for you, Halsin.” Tav could no longer meet his eyes. Her heart sank to her knot-filled stomach, the agony of the truth burning in every tear as she tried so desperately to hold back the flood. “I can’t give you what you want.” 

“There is nothing I could want more than simply to have you in my life, to have a place of our own in the Oakfather’s arms- My heart, I would be satisfied simply to grow old and grey with you.” Every moment made it harder, she couldn’t even bring herself to pull her shoulder away from the gentle hand he laid upon it. “Why would you think yourself unworthy? Nature has made no finer blessing than you.” “Nature…did not bless me, Halsin. I can never give you what you want.” As Tav talked, Halsin remained silent, listening, honey-brown eyes fixed on her even though she couldn’t bear to meet his gaze. She brought her knees to her chest, still sat on the bed and only half dressed, but she had never felt more naked than when she spoke next. “I’ve seen you. I’ve watched you, it’s impossible not to notice how badly you want a family. And…that’s what I can never give. I’ve sought every cure, been to every healer, I once even considered the aid of a Hag but thankfully had at least more sense than desperation that time. Even a Wish would be foolish - the gods have such a way of twisting the words of our dreams into the shadows of nightmares.” She sighed, the breath leaving her with the last hint of hope that had long sat abandoned in her heart. “So…I can’t go with you, it wouldn’t be fair. You deserve someone who can let you become the father you are so clearly destined to be. I love you more than any words could ever do justice, and that’s exactly why I’m doing this now…it would be unkind to us both to deny you that.” —

Halsin watched her, as he had many times. He had seen the hint of pain Tav pushed back, noticed the thin silver scars on her body when they had spent many a night together, and he saw her now. How her body shook with the emotion she had been holding back since long before they met. Desperation, loneliness, heartbreak… A part of him knew, had always known, those silver-grey eyes were a mirror. The glass was shattering, beautiful shards falling as saline rivers coursing down her cheeks and landing on the dark silk of her shirt. He wrapped his arms around his lover, pulling her close, no longer letting her make the choice to draw back and leave. Her dark hair was soft under his caress, her whole being feeling so small and fragile he never wanted to let go in case she fell apart completely. The druid had prayed to the Oakfather many times, had walked the same road of seeking answers that could never be found. Even nature’s blessings had their limits, after all. Not every dream was destined to come true. As Halsin felt Tav’s tears ebb away to the quiet of eyes that burned dry with nothing left to give, his own heart threatened to break all over again. He kissed the top of her head, wishing he could fill her with hope, give her a solution, but at the end of the day reality would always break through. 

—

Tav felt his voice as much as heard it, the soft vibration rumbling through his chest, his words quiet and warm. “My love…” He was hesitant, gentle fingers caressing her back and hair with the same affection he always had, strong arms refusing to let go. “Do you think that biology is all there is to it? That the substance of the body is what makes a family?” Tav listened, sniffling slightly, feeling a little unsure on how to answer.

“I have known for a long time that I can never father a child, but I can still be a father.” Halsin’s words came as a surprise. She had always assumed that the weight on her shoulders was one she would carry alone… It wasn’t something that lovers discussed in the early days of romance, and friends would rarely raise the topic other than to announce good tidings. It was a silent shame. Penance for sins unknown, the chains that bound the broken to the cracks in their souls that even magic could never heal- And in one moment, it all fell away.

Halsin lifted her chin with his hand, looking deep into her eyes, the spark of hope in the warm honey tones beginning to heal the old scars that had been on the edge of tearing asunder. “My heart… What we pass on is far beyond our looks, our bloodlines. We give of ourselves those deeper parts. Our love, our heart, our memories… Everything that we feel and all that we have learned is more of who we are than the red in our veins or the colour of our eyes.” “I…you never told me.” Tav blinked, realising the irony in how she had held back the truth from him just the same. “What was I to say, my love? I could see how it hurt you, I hoped that asking you to join me today would bring only joy, to promise you a future. Our future.” He kissed her forehead, hand cupping her cheek, thumb gently wiping away the stains of tears. “I thought I had wept enough for the both of us, on those nights when you rested peacefully below the stars, and all my mind could recall was how lonely you looked when the children were playing.” Tav finally released her knees from her own grip, bringing her hand to the back of the druid’s head, fingers lightly lacing through soft hair as she pressed her forehead against his own. “We should have spoken far sooner.”

His laugh was as soft and warm as the scent of moss and leather that was always present when they were this close. “Whatever shall we do with each other…” “Maybe I should apologise first. I didn’t mean to keep anything from you, or to pull away, and, gods, the last thing I really wanted to do was leave. But I thought…I thought it was the only way you could have the future you deserve.” Tav felt the embarrassment colour her cheeks a deeper violet beneath the pale blue tones that her own parents had gifted her. “You have every right to be angry with me for how foolish I’ve been.” “Anger is the furthest thing from my mind,” Halsin soothed her fears, channelling a little magic to his hand to cool her cheek. “Let us make our plans. Thaniel’s lands should be recovering well but will still need time. Yet there are plenty of people here in the city who have found themselves unwelcome, more still who feel unsafe after all they have seen in these streets. There is a town to rebuild, an Inn we can stay at, even Moonrise could be restored to become a beacon of hope again.” Tav smiled, her heart warming more than it had in many a long year. “And plenty of children who need a family.” 

“Sadly a great number of them,” Halsin replied, almost as if he felt the ripples of their loss. “They may not all wish to come with us, but we can give them an option. An open door, open arms, and open hearts.” 

“Is there ever a limit to your kindness, Halsin?” Tav rubbed her nose against his affectionately. “Possibly.” He returned the gesture, the hint of his own smile in his response this time too. “Would you like to find out?” 

“We’re going to end up rivalling Jaheira’s brood, aren’t we?” She couldn’t help but think of the older druid’s adopted family, how they all took care of each other when she was away. “But let’s not go on too many adventures, not unless we have to. I think I’ve had quite enough excitement and danger for a while.” “I couldn’t have said it better myself, my love.” Halsin finally broke the contact, leaning his head back a little to look at her again. “I cannot wait to see if any of them pick up your laugh, the way you smile in the sun, develop your terrible skills in the kitchen-”  Tav playfully bit his nose. “That was one time! But… Fine, you can teach them how to cook, which berries are safe to eat, and I’ll show them how to properly hold a sword or run from the scary old bear chasing after them to wash behind their ears.”

The pain was falling away, the pieces of broken dreams being gathered from the floor, stitched together into a new pattern. Patchwork, perhaps, and not the tapestry either of them might have imagined in centuries past, but every new thread wove something stronger. Shards of what couldn’t be beginning to form the stained glass mosaic of a brighter future now the storm had passed.

--- --- ENDING NOTES --- ---

I won't lie, I took my heart from my chest and threw it at the page, hurting every feeling I have ever had in the process. But that in itself is cathartic, the piece needed out, the story needed to be told.

Life may not always work in our favour, fate takes away choices we might have had, and some things even magic cannot solve. But healing can come in different forms, like finding a different future, and finding the last flickering light in the dark to chase the shadows away.

#halsin x tav #halsin #tav #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 #fanfic #bg3 tav #ao3fic #ao3 fanfic #angst #hurt/comfort #heavy topics #one shot fic

[holyghostbelle]

THE THIRTEENTH STEP

(sponsor!dark!Eddie Munson x recovering!reader)

Oh how I've created the most deliciously terrible pairing, so many warnings and red flags.

if you are under the age of 18 I will make out with you dad >:0 don't make me do that

Eddie Munson is 5 years sober and horribly famous, reader is 60 days sober and has never heard of the bands he's in :) 29 year old Eddie , 21 yr old reader. Fem reader. ALSO STEVE THE ARMY GUY is not STEVE HARRINGTON

Warnings: drug use, addiction, drug addiction, alcoholics, sex addicts, sexual assault(not eddie),power play, the act of thirteenth stepping( becoming involved with newly recovering addict),abuse, victimisation, reader hates herself, reader is suicidal,Gaslighting and manipulation

Masterlist

It's 1994 and you stop smoking, you chew gum instead, sipping dark roast coffees when you crave them.You stop drinking too, stop doing drugs, you're totally clean now and you get tattoos, thousands of them (well you have maybe more than 20) you've been clean for less than 60 days.

Your parents are so proud of you, and you've broken up with ‘him’? So you've got everything ahead of you and nothing to lose. You're living with your parents, back at home, you don't hear the drunks outside,they don't knock on your door and beg. The mail comes and it is never bad news. You thank your rich mum and dad. You pray every night that they are telling the truth when they say how far you've come, but deep down you know they aren't, back at home already and your degree hasn't even finished yet.

You're a failure.

They've spent so much money on you, you want to pay it all back, hospital bills, expensive rehabilitation, one of the new ones, with green tea and yoga and celebrities who have phones you put in your pocket, the one your dad has for work.

You have crystal healing therapy and draw your feelings in big white open rooms with hundreds of plants, and half the time you think to yourself.

‘i'd rather he hit and shout at me all over again before Rachel stands up and hums incredibly loudly at the back of my head for another session of reiki healing, in fact i'd rather be back to lying on the streets overdosing if she prescribes a fucking hug. Id rather have a fucking! stomach pump if she tells me i'm worth it! One more fucking time.``

But you're out now, stuck in the New York suburbs with assholes who take prescription drugs and drink green smoothies and walk tiny dogs and listen to music that makes you want to cut your ears off and shove them down someone's throat.

Your parents buy you a car to get to the NA meetings. It's thirty minutes away. In a church.

You remember going there on Sundays with your family, fresh faced in babydoll dresses and tiny little white socks, with your pink pocket bible and you'd get pancakes with sweet syrup and fresh fruit and your nan would scoop up all the foam on her coffee and let you taste it when your mum turned a blind eye, bitter and milky.

But this is different, you've done this all by yourself.

’Step 1: Admit your life has become unmanageable’

Okay, so it's your first college party right? And you're freshly 18. You've never drunk (the sip of your dads beer doesn’t count) and you're dressed well; slutty. Your roommates pulled something out that's low cut? You're a hundred percent sure it's a nightgown at this point. And you've got boots and a brown matte lip and you look at yourself in the mirror and think.

‘Is this what it's like to be popular?”

So anyway, you show up to this party right, you-look-so-fucking-hot. And you meet this guy, well you meet “him”, He's cute, a little flirty. He makes you smile and he smokes weed. And remember you've never drunk or done any drugs, but you really like him and any common sense gets thrown out of your pretty little head, so you do a shot and smoke.

You end up in his bed that night, he's pressed against you whispering poetry into your ear, you swallow air and cry and you've never been deeply religious because you did give that boy a hand-job in the church graveyard when you were fourteen, so it's not like you're totally a prude or anything because your roommate's dress hangs around your waist as you lose your virginity to him, and all you ask is,

“Is this what heaven feels like?”

You're light and airy.

You wake up in the morning and leave and you start going out every night trying to catch him at the bar that doesn’t ID, you see him with other girls-he leaves with other girls, hunched over in the back alley. Sometimes it's you, in his car, in the bar toilets, in his house, you don't leave for days, your mind is constantly foggy and he is on the phone to his friend talking about drugging the same girl over and over, but you want it so badly so it can't be you, right?

So you start buying off him and suddenly all of your trust fund is gone and your owing him favours, your on his bedroom floor high as a fucking kite you see color's and your pretty sure your on acid, you don't actually know? But it doesn't matter at this point because you’ve convinced yourself he's in love with you.

You've missed all your classes this week because you're too busy getting pounded by the guy that gives you drugs for free and then he stops whispering poetry into your ear and you are actually like together, because you got kicked out of your apartment and you live with him now.

There's no point going anywhere, your mind is foggy, you've lost so much weight and you don't actually know what's going on at this point, he tells you what you need, his friends come and go, he must have hundreds of them because they all look different.

He gets violent, but it's during sex first, he slaps your face and apologises because he's ‘just trying to keep you awake’ he swears. He buys you flowers the next day, and chokes you that evening, it becomes a vicious new cycle.

“Here I bought you chocolate” is cheap shit, but he carves his initials into your skin that night because "you fucking belong to him”

Then he tells you to sleep with his friends and you do. He laughs and calls you a slut and kicks you. “Anything for fucking drugs this girl”

His friends snicker and you sleep with them, the list of sins gets longer. Then one night after a year when your parents get redirected to the place you've been staying because this Christmas you haven't called to say you're coming back and also that expensive ivy league school just sent the third check back as you had dropped out.

They find you outside on a road away from his place, red foam out your mouth, eyes rolled back and bruised all over, your naked and your hair is knotted at the back, so you're rushed to hospital, you never tell them what happened, so they don't ask, no police report is filed, he gets away with what he's done.

What a Christmas gift you think, your mother says its a Christmas miracle and tells all her friends that you've basically been reborn. Your dad is distant like always, and you drink cranberry juice instead of wine at Christmas dinner, everyone pretends that everything is fine.

You think you were set up to fail from the start.

And yeah, you could say your life has gotten pretty unmanageable.

The doctor says you're lucky your parents found you, you had your stomach pumped in the ambulance, but you don't remember much.

Just pain, and a pure black sky.

And you start to miss him, it's been two weeks and he hasn't tried to contact you to apologies like he usually does and you think of the first night you met and how it felt like heaven, and how you couldn't move and speak and it was like you were trapped in your own head and how it didn't feel at all that nice, and how he was whispering ‘it's going to be alright, im just taking care of you’

And you're heartbroken all over again, but you're not allowed to drink so you wallow in your sadness sober, which is actually ridiculously boring and because you're sober you can't make drunk mistakes like kissing random old men or spending hundreds of dollars on a stupid bag, because drunk you would take a knife and stab him right in his heart so he knew how it felt.

You start to wish you died that night, because tattoos are fucking expensive and also you cant get yourself to cover his mark because that would mean someone else would see it there and everything would be true.

So you sit at home and think and cry and cry some more, and then you pack for rehab.

But rehabs over now, and AA, NA, SAA (because sleeping around for drugs is actually considered a sex addiction? And not prostitution? yeah right!), that's your life now, you're fully booked and sober.

It's five pm. You're driving an old Honda accord in silver because your dad thinks if you get drunk and crash the car it won't be a loss of money, have a little faith, your mum hands you three dollars to buy a coffee because apparently coffee is incredibly expensive now.

You pull over and buy a pack of cigarettes, you lean against your car, you breathe in the bitter death and think.

“Is it a sin to smoke next to a church?”

It can't be right?

You check your watch, five twenty five.

A black Chevy truck pulls up to your left, it actually looks ridiculous, its custom so whoever owns it is either extremely rich or stupid and poor.

Metallica blasts through the speakers, it's so loud you can't hear yourself think. The car door slams as you inhale the last of your cigarette. You look up for half a second, but you find yourself gazing at him for a second too long.

He looks back, he nods and smiles at you.

You scoff, stamping out your cigarette.

He follows you into the church.

———————

Eddie's famous, stupidly famous. Old men know who he is famous, and hot women.

Eddie is famous as fuck and rich and an addict.

You know how it starts, smoke a bit of weed in high school, drink a couple of beers. One minute you're trying cocaine for the first time and the next your manager is hand cuffing you to your bed-frame because you have a tendency to get drunk and fuck and destroy the hotel room.

So yeah maybe Eddie spiralled out of control on tour and passed out on stage and then decided to get in the passenger seat with his friend, and take control of the steering wheel, and well you probably know the rest right? you've heard it all before, you've seen it in the papers.

"RICH WHITE ROCKSTAR GETS FUCKING DRUNK AND KILLS LIKE A MILLION PEOPLE!!!!!"

Okay so not exactly that.

On parole for a year, Licence revoked for two. Three years in and he starts making music again, four years sober and all he has is an extreme nicotine addiction, an over customised truck, and bandmates who hate him. But that's rock and roll baby, all the stars nearly kill their friends.

Eddie goes to NA and AA meetings every week, technically he's forced too but he likes listening to rich white mens sob stories, how they were bankers by day and coke addicts by night, because it's so tragic how they cheated on their wives with strippers, boo hoo! Eddie likes to play a game for sympathy, someone tells their sob story about losing a dog because they were drunk and Eddie talks about how his friend was in a coma for half a year.

And so Eddies pulls into the church hall parking lot, and he notices the young lil thing leaning against her car inhaling a cigarette like it's her job, and she dressed somewhat weirdly. In Fact she looks so out of place, she's wearing beige but not in a cool 90s grunge way. More in the way that her mum dressed her this morning, her mum being rich and suburban, married her husband for money.

He switches the truck off, and metallica fades out immediately. He steps out the truck, the car door slams, he stretches, his chest aimed for the sky and he looks at her. He nods and sends her a cheeky smile.

He waits for her reaction but she stares and scoffs , stamping out her cigarette, her eyes roll and she pulls the sleeves of her overly expensive knit jumper down.In the colour of beige, but the store probably calls it caramel coffee creamer or gingerbread cookie fall and even worse cinnamon roll icing, coconut shredded chocolate. Or if it's even higher end, sand one. He follows behind her. Noticing her stained black converse, bloodied, scuffed.

Her mum had definitely dressed her.

———————

The church hall is cold, it always has been.

There's a circle of chairs in the middle of the room, and a table with coffee cups and cheap plastic wrapped muffins, there's four men in suits in the room they’re sweating and you make eye contact with what you think is your mom's friend, she looks away quickly, and then there's the weird army guy with a sign in sheet that your pretty sure came to your high school to warn you about the dangers of drugs and alcohol.

You tell him your name and curl up on a plastic seat with a cold cup of coffee. You sip carefully, staring ahead as the curly headed freak pulls up a chair to your right.

“Nice sweater”

You raise an eyebrow and look him up and down, he's wearing a black fitted shirt and blue jeans covered in tattoos.

“It's my mums” you stare at him in the eye, “can you tell?”

“Where are your clothes then?”he points to your chest and meets your eyes.

“I don't know, probably in a skip somewhere rotting, like everything else”

He grins, “You're so cynical” he looks over to the woman next to him “How are you doing today Joan? How are the kids?”

Joans face flushes, and stares at your face,” Oh Eddie, i'm doing fine thank you, Heathers graduating college soon, only a couple of months”

“They grow up so fast, huh”

There's a moment of silence, Eddie leans back in his chair smiling, the business men talk about stocks or money or whatever they actually do, and the big army guy sits down in a chair, his legs spread, muscles bulging.

“Hello, I'm Steve and i'm an alcoholic!"

“Hi Steve” we chant back.

“It's been about seventeen years now, since i had a sip of beer, and i've been thinking, seventeen years, that's nearly a high school graduate, my soberness could drive, next year it could join the army, and every day i think to myself what is this for? myself ? My wife? My kids? “ he sighs

“No, being sober is for myself, i've owned up to my actions, i've accepted god into my life, i've made amends, and now? I go for dinner with my wife and while she has wine I have soda, my kids party and I can pick them up safely, and help them, but I'm happy to help.”

Steve goes on for what seems like hours, but you keep your eye on the clock and only minutes pass, you don't actually know what he's trying to say but you nod along anyway.

“We have a newcomer today, you've probably noticed her. So be nice, why don't you introduce yourself darling?”

You say your name, and they chant it back at you, they wait for you to speak.

“I got out of rehab like a-week ago, and all I could think while being there while they braided my hair and made me pick weeds out of bushes is how I would've rather died from my overdose than be there.” you pause, and the room fills with a flood of sympathy, it's thick in the air, there's a shuffling of feet.

“And like, everyones been telling me to own up to my actions, like it was my fault? Like I went to college and then decided to get hooked on drugs?” you smile but your eyes don't.

There's a scoff on your right, you look at him.

“oh sorry did you want to say something?”

“Look sweetheart, we’re all here for a reason, part of recovery is owning up to your actions” Eddie smiles softly like he's just said the biggest revelation ever .

You nod at him, “yeah i guess you're right, next time someone loads me up with ketamine and rapes me i’ll remember it was my own fault” you stand up straight coffee knocked up and on the floor.

“because I was asking for it, right?”

You drag your chair painfully slowly and it scrapes along the floor, making that awful sound.

You rush out of the building to your car, slamming the door and hitting the steering wheel. You look over at the truck on your left and contemplate.

Fuck it

You get out the car, keys in your hand and you scrape them along his car door , in jagged edges.

Shit. You panic. Can you go to prison for this? you've just vandalised a seemingly harmless guy's car.

“Did you just key my truck?” He's behind you, and you turn to see his face.

“No” you shake your head.

“I just watched you do it, why are you lying?” he questions

“Because ,I-” you sigh“ i've got to much fucking anger and i don't know what to fucking do with it” your lip tremors.

“Im stupid. So fucking stupid, and yeah everything is my own fucking fault, i could have filled a fucking police report, but i was so fucking naive, i found him in a club the next night and slept with him again, and suddenly i'm lying in my own filth waiting to die because ive been rotting away in his apartment for god knows how long, so he loads me up with drugs and leaves me on the side of the road and i think, this is it i'm finally going to fucking die. I'm twenty one and my life is already fucked.”

The wind howls, and the parking lot lights flicker on as it gets darker.

You look up at him “I'm sorry i keyed your car”

“It's fine, i'm stupidly rich and hate it anyway” Eddie mutters.

You smile.

“I want to be your sponsor”

“Huh?” your eyebrows raise "after I keyed your car?"

‘Yeah and well it's me or Joan, and Joan just speaks about her kids so, I'd be helping you out ”

“Joans actually my mom's friend”

“Oh, I get it,” Eddie sighs, fiddling with his keys.

You pause, looking at his brown eyes, you think about what they would've looked like blood shot.

“Can I get your number then? Because Heather was a real bitch to me in high school so i'd rather not hear about her success story”

A/N: hello I got bored and started writing, and this i what I wrote, i am terrible at proof reading by the way so I will give you a kiss if you tell me all my mistakes xxxx

#eddie munson x reader #dark eddie munson #famous eddie munson #rich reader #90s au #recovering addict au #stranger things x reader #stranger things but not strange #heavy topics #what the actual fuuuuuck #slightly older Eddie #eddie munson #edward munson

[reashot]

Ruby's Got A Quick Hand

Ruby: *sitting alone in the corner minding her own business*

Cardin: Hey dork what are you doing sitting alone, too tired from being a weirdo all the time?

Russel: Yeah ya freak, too busy torturing little animal or something?

The room then suddenly filled with laughter and mockery directed towards Ruby.

Jaune: H-hey cut it out. She doesn't do anything. Leave Ruby alone.

Ruby: You're cute... Don't come to school tomorrow. 😉

Jaune: Ruby w-what did you mean by that? What Did you mean by that?!

Ruby: *Listening to Pumped Up Kicks by Foster the People.*

#jaune arc #ruby rose #lancaster #rwby #lancaster rwby #jaune x ruby #ruby x jaune #rwby lancaster #cardin winchester #russel thrush #team crdl #pumped up kicks #foster the people #heavy topics #rwby shitpost #Ruby is sus

[shadesofnavy]

Animatronic Keith AU Lore

This is obviously inspired by the FNF Animatronic Boyfriend mod, the 2011 remodeled design here was partially inspired by DJX Boyfriend's design

Shoutout to @xenoshadow13 for helping a LOT on the brainstorming for this one--this took months hah

2k+ words below

Warnings: Murder, violence, guns

There are no pairings here, only family

An apology to any Senpai-lovers, he's not the best here at all

This takes place back in time

Like his counterparts, in this AU of mine, Keith, or more widely known as The Boyfriend, was always known to have been an ambitious boy with big dreams. His affable and witty personality made him a well-liked fellow, and an insufferable nemesis. His passion for good food, love and music had always been a setback in his academic years, but upon graduating college they would prove to finally be an advantage to achieving his goals.

He would start with making his own music shortly after under the striking stage name of “The Boyfriend.” It would take a few years, and a lot of encouragement and help from his parents and friends, but after moving city to city, playing live and picking up gigs wherever he could, at some point he would finally find opportunities to reach more ears with the help of music producers and developers, opening to the doors of his fame. 

By the late 80s, The Boyfriend had been able to officially release many of his written songs with the proper equipment and modifications, his music ranging from rock love songs, deep and meaningful grunge, and funky rap. His broad choice of music genres would make him spread relatively fast, and he would reach the top charts with other popular bands and artists by the early 90s in no time.

At that time The Boyfriend would be considered a successful musician with multiple hit albums and a continuously growing fanbase. His music had been a success, but he still had another goal in mind. Food had always been an important part of his life, having lived with parents that both knew how to cook and passed down their skills to him. He wanted to make something out of it. Food always tastes better with good music and friends, and the three combined could make wonderful memories. Keith wanted something everyone could enjoy–family, friends, lovers, even a person alone. A spot for everyone to forget about problems for a moment and have a good time. What better way than to use his talents and money to make that possible? 

The Boyfriend’s Funkstaurant, named by yours truly, began its development in 1992. Keith had a friend for anything, in everything, and with his hefty income from his fame, it wasn’t excessively hard to afford the necessary equipment and permits. Employees were not at all tough to find in the busy city, and alongside his childhood anchor, Michael Hart, Keith founded the Boyfriend Entertainment, managed to find a suitable building in the city of Philadelphia, and within two years, the family entertainment restaurant would open its doors in 1994, a polished, well-managed business with good-natured staff, all whom were associated with The Boyfriend himself. 

The establishment would be an instant hit, and Boyfriend’s Funkstaurant would quickly become one of the top family restaurants around Philly. Keith would leave Michael as the manager in charge of the place while he continued to work on his music and concerts, as his own music producer was eager to have him perform across the country, and Keith couldn’t say no (literally). He would however come by quite frequently whenever the schedules weren’t tight, to either manage the place himself for a time, or to simply enjoy himself with his friends and family, even performing there in person. 

As four years passed, the restaurant held up successfully, better than ever. The music productivity was slowing down for Keith. Less concerts, more focus on The Boyfriend’s Funkstaurant. Michael decided to bring in a college friend as another manager who went by Jeffery Davis to help lessen the amount of work for him and Keith. Jeffery, who had worked as an employer for several other businesses, wasn’t as much of a friend with Keith as he was with Michael, who often spoke fondly of the singer, but they were mostly on good terms and genuinely respected each other enough for a steady companionship. It turned out Keith actually knew how to manage a job seriously, Jeffery realized, unlike his seemingly cocky and witty stage persona. He still had a humorous side of himself, even with work, and frankly enough it could annoy Jeffery sometimes, but at least the singer knew when it was time to drop the jokes. He had to admit, it did keep it from getting bland on the job.

Jeffery spent a lot of time at the establishment working. The place was almost always busy, especially during the weekends. He would occasionally bring his nine-year-old daughter Cherry at the time to look after her while she wasn’t at school. The girl had been extremely fascinated with the restaurant ever since her family took her there when the place first opened up when she was five years old. 

Keith would come to find himself growing fond of little Cherry. The girl would look up to him whenever she stuck around during his work hours when her dad brought her over, where the singer would take the time to show her around, and share his future plans to the curious youngster for the restaurant—one of these plans being the animatronic mascot he, Michael and some other crews were working on. 

He wanted to completely focus on his music career again now that Michael wouldn’t be left alone to manage the Funkstaraunt, this time going on tour internationally, and his producer was ecstatically encouraging him. But that would mean he needed to spend a lot of time away from The Boyfriend’s Funkstaurant, and since he was often around there entertaining customers and overall being the life of the party, his absence would be particularly hard on some folks, especially the youngest ones, which included Cherry. He wanted something that would somewhat fill the missing gap while he was gone. With the suggestions and creativity of his staff and some friends, the idea of the Boyfriend mascot was quickly turned into reality within a year.

In 1999, however, an old nemesis from Keith’s school years stopped by. None other than the crooked Stephan Lindberg, who also had a dream of soaring high in the music industry but never managed to do so. He one day stopped by the restaurant he had been hearing so much about for ages already, only because he was fed up on how the stupid blue-haired jerk who kept getting the girls from high school actually managed to make it so far—his music was on the radio, he was famous for it, he was on the top of the music industry, he somehow got a huge restaurant going, and it boiled Stephan’s blood. 

Bitter and blinded with jealousy and hate towards Keith for his fame and success, Stephan came up with a twisted scheme to get back at Keith when on one of his snitching visits at the restaurant he overheard two ladies fussing about how awfully close the singer was to Jeffery’s daughter and the security guard’s 12 year old son during a visit in the restaurant to observe its environment. A wicked idea came to mind when he overheard the ladies who he secretly taped on a voice recorder, and he’d later blackmail two associates to take pictures and frame Keith for having ulterior motives on the staffs’ children that were frequently at the restaurant. 

Using these photos, Stephan snuck to the establishment one night when there weren’t any workers besides Keith, Jeffery and a few other staff members, who were busy preparing the restaurant for Cherry’s tenth birthday the next day, and the reveal of the now finished Boyfriend animatronic mascot. He would approach Jeffery first, somewhat surprised to hear that the manager had heard about him from his coworker who at the time was taking a few days off. Stephan, even more angered, calmly informed Jeffery about his “worrying conclusions,” presenting him with the false evidence he had managed to fabricate with his associates—photos, voice tapes of the ladies who gave him the idea the other day, and even videos taken at an intentional misleading angle of Keith simply hugging Cherry.

Jeffery had heard about Stephan’s deceiving tactics and second-nature through Michael before, and he was well aware that Stephan was just a stranger to him, not someone he should lightly take his word for. However, the mention of his daughter’s name and Keith’s “supposed” evil intentions struck a nerve, and he became horrified, sick, and furious. Without a second thought he immediately jumped the gun and rushed over to confront Keith, who was understandably taken aback when Jeffery began to accuse him of Stephan’s lies. 

The situation escalated to a fight in which Jeffery initiated when Keith tried to defend himself, not believing anything the singer told him. Stephan watched with satisfaction from the sidelines as the few other staff members began to rush over in a panic. It would flatter when Keith took the upper hand and reluctantly struck Jeffery with a powerful uppercut, sending his manager back in stumble, and despite his constant desperate denials, Jeffery shook off the punch and pulled out a small handgun of his—one gifted by Keith himself for a birthday. Consumed with rage and unknowingly thrilling Stephan, he unloaded the pistol on Keith, six shots to the chest, nearly killing him. 

If he were any smarter, Stephan would’ve left and let the situation play out tragically. However, like the gluttonous fool he was, he decided to step in and reveal himself, taunting Jeffery for believing his false evidence, sneering over his naivety and shock. He planned to blackmail Jeffery, knowing the man’s reputation was now at stake for killing the famous singer. Jeffery wasn’t going to want to face the consequences for it, wasn’t he? 

Before he could go any further with his plot though, his associates who helped him fabricate the entire scenario had a change of heart upon witnessing how far Stephan had let things go, both knocking the crook who blackmailed them first and bonding his wrists and ankles. 

Jeffery was sick to his stomach and tremendously mortified as he stared down at Keith’s body. He knew he had committed a second-degree murder, and he would be taken to prison. He rightfully deserved to. He let a complete make him do something irreversible, all based on lies. Jeffery knew he belonged behind bars, but he panicked. He couldn’t go to jail. His family would hate him. His wife, his daughter—Lord his daughter would completely want his guts to rot in a cell if she ever knew about this. He decided, as much as his own actions pained him, he could not let it happen. 

The staff wanted to tell authorities of what really happened—they had the camera tapes, Stephan’s made up evidence, and the handgun, everything. But Jeffery, all too terrified for his own being, shot down each of their concerns, threatening them with blackmail and even dragging them into the mess. Deep down he knew it was wrong—it was sinful, but he couldn’t bring himself to plead guilty. At least, not while Cherry was still so young. None of the staff members wanted to follow, but they too didn’t want their lives ruined either because of this, so in the end they hushed up and remorsefully went along with it. 

The staff and Jeffery covered up the incident to make it look like Stephan himself had killed Keith. The body was stuffed into the Boyfriend animatronic to make it look like Stephan tried to hide the corpse for later disposal. Unbeknownst to them however, Keith was still conscious during all of that. His final moments were spent stuffed inside the cage of his own creation, agonized and paralyzed, until finally he drifted off. 

Any evidence of Jeffery having killed Keith himself was destroyed. Any tapes, Stephan’s fabricated plot, and fingerprints were cleared away and shredded. Jeffery took the camera footage that caught the event, but before deleting it all permanently, out of guilt he copied it all to a spare VHS tape. He was a coward, and he hid the tape for the longest time, praying no one would find it until after he died of old age. 

Keith’s death was reported the early morning after, the news first reaching his family’s and Michael’s ear, and his body was properly taken care of. Stephan would be charged for first-degree murder and sent to prison for life, the new fabricated story being him having shot Keith instead. The truth stayed between Jeffery, the few unfortunate staff members, Stephan’s two associates, and hidden deep in the animatronic mascot. 

That same day, the news of Keith’s death was kept away from Cherry, who was ecstatic for her birthday with her friends at the Funkstaraunt. Though it wouldn’t be long before the official reveal of the mascot that she would see on the news about what had happened the night before. 

The poor girl, who was given honors to pull down the sheet over her long awaited surprise, would instantly be overwhelmed with grief and horror, along with the other boys and girls around her who also looked up to the singer who brought them so much joy. What was supposed to be an amazing day turned out to be one of Cherry’s nightmares in a flash as she began to cry, staring up at the dreaded words on the tv up by the corner that sent thousands of questions running across her little mind.

BREAKING NEWS: KEITH BURLINGTON “THE BOYFRIEND” FOUND DEAD

Unbeknownst to everyone, Keith’s spirit, which had latched onto the mascot after having been stuffed inside it, began to stir as his distorted subconsciousness managed to recognize the anguished wails of his little friends. Desperate to help, he gained control over the shell for a time and began to move, the sheet falling off his new form and gaining the attention of the weeping children below. 

His mind, twisted and confused as to what happened, and what was happening, instead focused on the tear-stained faces of the little boys and girls below, all whom he knew. He focused on Cherry, and the little ginger-haired boy beside her, and knelt down to them, his mechanical joints working perfectly for the first time. 

Hey, it’s okay. I’m still here. 

The working staff at the time were confused as no one had yet activated the animatronic, but they let it slide when all of the children—and even the older ones—started to lighten up a bit with the mascot’s presence. There was something about it that made them feel as though it was really Keith… even though they all knew it wasn’t. Or, at least, believed. 

For the rest of the day Keith’s spirit managed to stay awake for Cherry. There was an irresistible tiredness bearing down his consciousness though, tempting him to shut down again. However he stayed awake until he was sure Cherry and the kids were okay. Only then did he let his mind slip into the deep alluring darkness, and the Boyfriend went back to performing its usual programming for the rest of Cherry’s childhood.

Fast forward to the year 2011, now 22 years old and freshly out of college, Cherry gets news that the restaurant’s mascot’s remodel has been finished, and with her new culinary degree, she decides to go back to the Boyfriend’s Funkstaruant to work as the lead cook. Miraculously it’s been holding up fairly well for all of this time, but Cherry knows that ever since Keith had died the Funkstaraunt’s original spark had gone with him. Wanting to bring that feeling again to the place, she believes it’s a good place to start her career. 

She’s surprised to see a few familiar faces back there. More so when she learns they have the same goals in mind, too. 

She’s certain they can bring back The Boyfriend’s Funkstaraunt’s former glory, just like Keith had when she was little. 

Little did she and her new coworkers know, however, that there was more to the restaurant than she had known it for. For starters, The Boyfriend animatronic itself. 

BOYFRIEND AND CO. COPYRIGHT 1999 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

#fnf au #pico is not mentioned but we'll get into him later this is quite long already :) #fnf #friday night funkin #fnf animatronic au #keith burlington #fnf bf #fnf boyfriend #fnf dd #daddy dearest #fnf senpai #jeffery davis #stephan lindberg #fnf gf #fnf girlfriend #cherry davis #tw violence #violence #tw murder #murder #tw guns #guns #dead dove do not eat #lore post #alternate universe #heavy topics #shades' art #digital drawing #traditional drawing #fnf pico

[dailyadventureprompts]

Heavy Topics: A Child's Vision of Evil

One of the first big “aha!” moments in my journey to retrofit d&d’s laughably bad lore was the realization that the way the game treated evil didn’t make much sense.  As a dungeonmaster I was asked to create dramatic stakes for my players but the out-of-the-box antagonists supplied to me were as laughably one note as the pollution loving villains in Captain Planet. Who would ever worship the demon god of killing everything that lives? Of torturing you for all eternity? Of being unpleasantly covered in slime? 

None of it really made sense until I started to understand the world and recent history through a political lens, at which point several things became clear: 

Despite how large a bogyman it played in the satan scare of the late 80s, the people who laid the foundations for the lore of d&d came from a background of conservative american christianity, and baked a lot of that ethos into the game. 

The conservative christian imagination can only see things in black and white. People who disagree with them can’t just have a different opinion, even if that opinion is objectively good, they need to be wilfully evil . In fact they must be trying as hard to be evil as the christian is trying to be good, because they’re a backwards person, a monster, a demon. 

This idea of the “Backwards Person” is the exact process that gave rise to the bloodlibel, to the witchpanics, to the redscare, and yes, the 80s fear that satanists lurk around every corner sacrificing babies and putting poison in candy because they love evil that much.  It’s the same thought that’s given rise to Q-anon and the groomer panic. “People who disagree with just can’t just have a different opinion, they must be demons.”

D&D’s classic enemies are similarly all “backwards people”, hardwired to do evil so that players always have an excuse to kill them.  While on the surface it seems harmless or even childish it leads to the default d&d world being one where peace is impossible and genocidal violence is the only correct answer.  

We can do better in our writing than a bunch of shut-ins who wanted nothing more than to play cowboys and indians while ripping off Tolkien. Whether you want to write a sweeping epic or a mindless dungeon crawler, there’s a way to reconfigure d&d lore. 

Join me below the cut for a discussion of different ways to use evil in your games.

Children cannot control their emotions nor their fear, they lack the life experience necessary to contextualize things beyond a surface level reading. If you ask a child to "imagine something bad" they're going to take something that scared them, something gross or unpleasant or threatening and imagine it blown up to cartoonish proportion. Tolkien got bit by a spider as a kid and the entire fantasy genre has never lived it down.

D&D is weird because it keeps these childish ideas about evil and drags them forward into an adult context. Those three demon gods I mentioned in the intro make a sort of sense when you realize they're fears of dying, pain, and uncleanliness made manifest. That said most of us having outgrown our childish simplicity understand that those things are neutral, Spiders might personally gross you out but we all understand that doesn't make them bad on a spiritual level. In the base d&d lore however that personal distaste is ALWAYS true: Evilness is synonymous with ugliness and monstrousness, drawing a thick crayon line between the good people and the bad things.

That's where we get our particular flavor of backwards people, because one of those fundamental (pun intended) fears d&d inherited from it's creators was xenophobia, fear of the strange, but also fear of the stranger. When the white, suburban, middle class, christian creators of d&d imagined the other they took all the bad things they had been told in their youth about people who were not them and made them into monsters: That's why the default thinking enemies of d&d are tribal primitives who squat in the ruins of greater civilizations worshipping demons while coveting the beauty and wealth of cultured people. It sounds hyperbolic, but there's a one for one parallel between between the weird sexual anxieties conservatives have about black men and orcs raiding human lands to kidnap women as breeding stock. Same fears about emasculation and race mixing and ethnic replacement, only d&d gives the good ol' boys a narrative vehicle where they can revenge themselves upon their imagined foe.

Most modern d&d is not like this, and I chalk that up to the demographic shift that's happened both because of time passing and the influx of new voices that came along with the 5e renaissance. We're all media literate enough to avoid the obvious racial pantomime... except in cases like the Hardozee when the devs port something almost word for word from an older edition and we get a thanksgiving uncle/facebook aunt screed about how the silly monkey people are really SO happy to work for the refined and civilized and white elves.

What's left behind however is that pervasive childlike worldview: Where perfectly natural things that creep us out (like rot) or frighten us (like pregnancy) are made universally villainous regardless of any themes that are going on in that specific story. Ask yourself why the creators of a piece of media made their badguys look and act like they did, rather than just accepting that it's that way because "the lore says so".

Anyway, that's my rant over, and I promised you guys some different versions of how to use Evil:

Classic demons or lovecraftian horrors make for good bossfights but are thin on character, one of the basic building blocks of story. To remedy this, pair your unremitting force of darkness and destruction with a troubled and nuanced mortal agent, someone who is trying their general best but has been forced down this low road by circumstances beyond their control. This gives your roleplaying focused players something to play off against while your combat focused ones battle a building sized monstrosity. Raw evil isn't interesting, it becomes interesting when we see what it makes morally grey people, even good people, do in reaction to it.

Extremity is one of the best ways to turn normal people into villains, a looming disaster or recent crisis that's putting the pressure on everyone and preventing anyone from thinking beyond protecting themselves and their own. Beyond the people acting rashly, you're also going to have a legion of opportunists offering to fix the problem as your higher rank of antagonists to overcome.

Similarly, if you're going to have your villain backed up by legions of faceless mooks you're going to need a reason for their loyalty. Your villain is offering them something worth dying for, which gives your heroes an alternate win condition for overcoming their numbers beyond genocide.

If you're willing to take a step into a more fanciful, cartoony universe, feel free to play with the idea of good and evil as arbitrary teams: It's the badguy's job to cause chaos and it's the goodguy's job to stop em, they're all working professionals and the dungeon is the workplace comedy. This is fun, but then lets you escalate the tension when someone doesn't play by the rules. What happens when a zealot starts executing evildoers who'd already surrendered? what happens when the villain summons something that is more interested in devastation than wacky hijinx?

Think of morality like a punnett square: There's the party, and then there's the villain who wants the opposite of what they want. THEN there's the villain who wants what the party wants, and the ally who wants the opposite of party wants. Suddenly rather than a simple binary, the party is forced to balance the interest of varying groups as well as their better judgment. This can be made even MORE complex by creating different categories of "what the party wants", which is generally how you get complex political dramas like game of thrones.

#heavy topics #writing advice #dnd #dungeons and dragons #d&d #ttprg #pathfinder

[blue-phoria]

being blind to your own ability to abuse other people is very worrying. anyone can hurt others - if you think you are above being an abuser - you are wrong. When you recognise that, you can work to make sure it doesn't happen.

#proship #heavy topics

[thebad-lydrawn-sanses]

Cross seems very serious, does he ever let up sometimes? Are there any moments of him being more bubbly?

Ps, can I get a hug from horror? I feel like he’d give the best bear hug EVER!!!

Cross: I'm not serious. I'm numb. My universe's friends and family are dead. I don't know how to contact my old friend(s). Everything I ever knew is gone and it's been an absolute wreck trying to adjust to the new norm. Cross: …and now I can't even make a short walk, or shower, or stand for long- leaping and running is out of the question, something I used to be able to do like second nature. My whole right side hurts, and it randomly gets worse for no reasons. Cross: I can't even look at art supplies without flinching and feeling- bad? Like I'm- I don't know. It's stupid and frustrating. Cross: It was bad before, but it only used to be paint brushes and paints. Now it's paper and crayons and pencils and anything that can be used to draw. Cross: …i can't even get off this stupid floor. my leg hurts too much Cross: (..i don't want to go back to bandages everywhere, but it hurts.)

(Cross laughing a bit [amused] here)

(Cross being in a neutral mood [getting a gift] here)

(Cross in a happy/joking mood here)

#cross sans #horror sans #injury #<- actually scars but they look like wounds #scars #death #grief #mourning #trauma #disability #disabled character #chronic pain #self deprecation #heavy topics #mental health #food #<- for the record these are so people can filter them out if needed #mysterious door that wasn't open before (last image) #you fit in the palm of his hand so it's not really a hug hjfksdhk (last image) #queue

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: the shame of wanting

"Aziraphale considered himself to be a hardworking, good angel. Robust and well-mannered, an affable colleague, a loyal child of God. He did his assignments, reported back to Heaven regularly, kept his clothes and corporation clean and prim, hardly ever had to call for maintenance. His quota was good, not the best, but satisfactory, and he did his part in the Ineffable Plan. On the inside, two newfound hungers ravaged him." A character study on Aziraphale trying to navigate the awakening of his bodily appetites and how they fit in with his angelhood.

Length: 2,893 words

AO3 Rating: Mature / Spice Level 🔥🔥

Best for: Mostly Safe in Public, At Home, Character Study, Heavy Topics

Triggers: None

Read it here, fic by black_earth

*Minor Spoilers* Oh, good Lord. So you probably know this author by their artwork, but I had no idea that they also write! So I had to devour this fic once I saw this posted. And it is just as exquisite as their artwork.

This is a short character study of Aziraphale's hunger. His desire to consume, touch, feel, and the shame he has for it. It made my skin burn, some of the lines here will rip you to shreds. It's so tactile and real. It perfectly encapsulates the feeling of being touch starved. Burning desperation to reach out, coupled with overwhelming fear and shame. I'm obsessed with this. It's both devastating and beautiful. Aziraphale is such a complex character, and this piece really gets at the heart of why I'm so fixated on him. It's a powerfully queer narrative, the Angel who denies himself life's greatest pleasures as he believes them to be dangerous and damned. His fear turning into paralyzing shame? Ugh I have to end this post and go reread this. It's just too good

Mostly safe for public, though there is some brief explicit content towards the end. However, you should be reading this at home with your full attention.

Read it here, fic by black_earth

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #fanfic rec #aziracrow #good omens fic rec #aziraphale x crowley #the shame of wanting #black_earth #short #two flames #at home #mostly safe in public #heavy topics #character study #canon timeline #chernozemm you are like a celebrity to me #you are so talented #faves of the blog

[addsalwayssick]

Hello, my loves! I have an angst oneshot for you all today but I believe it requires some warning that shouldn’t be ignored. This oneshot is *Heavy*. It is mean to be a PSA for school shootings. Multiple MCD’s. Trigger warning include: Suicide, School shooting, guns, crying, panicking, fear. Keep yourself and your mental health safe, everyone.

Remus and Sirius chattered away at Remus’s locker at his passing period. The morning was bright, the sun was shining, and it was almost the end of the school year. It was early May, and the day seemed as if nothing could go wrong.

As they walked to their next class, Sirius pulled out his phone to text Effie about what’s been going on today, not knowing it would be the last time.

Out of the corner of Sirius’s eye, he saw kids running, but he thought it may have just been rowdy kids. Then he heard the screams. Sirius and Remus turned to each other, eyes wide.

Remus turned to a deserted classroom on one side, and Sirius turned to the deserted classroom on the other. They closed the doors, turned out the lights, and put down the shades. Remus heard steps outside of his door, and was barely brave enough to peak through the rectangular window above the door.

He saw a man holding a gun. He was trying each door by him, most of which were locked. Remus has remembered to lock his door, thankfully. He prayed Sirius did the same.

He got to Remus’s door, and Remus held his breath. His hand went to his face to cover his nose and mouth, and he closed his eyes. The door handle jiggled, but the man evidently left.

He heard him walk away. Remus let out a sigh of relief before he heard a loud, earth shattering scream. He knew who it was before he heard the gunshot and saw the blood dripping onto his side of the door.

He heard the man walk away again, this time faster. He raised his head to look up through the window again, seeing a man he had once called his own, splayed out in all his beauty with a gunshot wound through his skull.

Remus let out a sob, covering his nose and mouth again. He heard the policeman come and take Sirius’s body away from him. He screamed and cried and met up with James, who couldn’t find Lily or Regulus and was panicking. Eventually he found Regulus, but they never did find Lily. Well, they did. She was in the girls bathroom. She had been shot multiple times and ended up bleeding out. He remembers James gut wrenching sobs as he heard the news. He saw Regulus’s face tighten, then release a load of tears he’d never seen before.

Remus had gone home that night and cried. He cried to the stars and the moon and everything in between. He cried to the God he wasn’t sure he believed in after this. But most of all, he cried to the star he’d once knew it real life. He cried in the chilly night sky until his mother came outside and sat with him. The first and only words she said to him before she went inside was, “Cry yourself a river, but don’t let yourself drown in it.”

But Remus didn’t listen. Remus let himself drown 5 days later when the weight of Sirius being gone became too much. Remus died the same way Sirius did. A gunshot through the head. This time it was at the hands of himself instead of a random man. The last thought that ran through his was ‘oh how excited I am to see you again.’ before the gun let out a bang.

#sirius black #remus lupin #james potter #sirius #jegulus #sirius x lupin #wolfstar #regulus and evan and barty #sirius and regulus #remus and regulus #heavy topics #please take care of yourselves #do not read if this is triggering #dead dove do not eat #i think #idk what to tell you #MCD #school shooters

[xsunnysoftx]

im gonna start talking about some kia lore at random points to flush out his character. angst/heavy topics under the cut.

tw: for heavy terms/doctory stuff readers please be aware of what ur reading. there is topics of panic attacks and so on. please be mindful this is canonical story lore and is pretty uncharacteristic for my blog, but i like talking about the not so "sunnny side" (ahaha see what i did there?) of kia.

you have been warned.

if you would like to filter out this angst filled tag, please block

X Darkhart X that's the tag ill be using for more personal in depth, angsty and that of the sort. heavy topics will be discussed on that tag. so if your sensitive to that sort of content, please make sure to block that tag and keep yourself safe <333

Something i dont think alot of people know. kia is deathly afraid of doctors funny enough.

kias deathly afraid of doctors. if hes gotta go in for something? hes gonna hella have a panic attack. needles? he faints. blood, he gets violently sick. even a paper cut has him dizzy and panicked. tubes and viles of shit freak him out. hospital beds terrify him. if hes even restrained in the slightest he will go into a full on 100% panic attack and probably run. am i self projecting. maybe which is funny. kia uses healing magic for everything. however cant use it on himself. hes very much like a pediatric doctor for everyone. very animated, goofy and silly to make sure that whoever hes helping he doesnt spook. when it comes to adults he makes conversation or puts on music to keep their mind off things even tho if it was him in that place? mans is gone. you aint catchin him.

i love kia so much. i like talking about more in depths of his character OUTSIDE of tk related stuff. its all fine and dandy. i love it. but i like the angstier side of kia as well that no know knows about.

#sunny speaks #dr lockhart #dr lockhart ♡ #HEAVY TOPICS #TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNING #X Darkhart X