#rage against reddit

[phatburd]

🤬

#i kinda want to release this next chapter #out of sheer spite and rage #but i can't yet #its not had a final pass #and there's stuff on Reddit that needs taking care of first #oh my god #the AO3 tag is killing me #can i just beat my head against a wall #frustrations

[mappingway]

Idk, man. I think it's normal to be curious about the new hp game. After growing up with it, with the shitty ps2 and gameboy games and computer games, I think it's wholly normal to want to see what it's like.

And frankly a few youtubers playing it to take the piss out of it probably keeps a bigger portion of people from hate buying it. If a content creator bought it and made a video and it gets 100k views, that's not a small amount of people whose curiosity is now sated and won't feel inclined to buy the game.

#idk. i hate hate hate absolutes #just because you shop at hobby lobby doesn't mean you're against repro rights. #just because you eat at chik fil a doesn't mean you're a raging homophobe #like... where is all yalls nuance? #yes jkr is a bad person. but there will never be ethical consumption of anything #the only time media can be ingested freely and without guilt is in a utopia #but like then again when are tumblr and twitter people rational #the fact that reddit folks are being more chill and like #actually well adjusted about it is. hilarious

[aaronsrpgs]

In Praise of Random Encounters

I'm in my "responding to frequently asked Reddit r/rpg questions" phase, so please allow me to defend the random encounter. This post is in response to everyone who goes, "Why do people use random encounters? They interrupt the flow of the story, and it doesn't make any sense to have something randomly show up and fight."

Did you know there was a Pokemon named after me?

In this post, I will argue against these strawmen, make a case for random encounters in certain games, and describe my favorite random encounter situations from my own games.

This disputation against random encounters can be broken up into three parts:

they interrupt what is already going on ("the story")

they are illogical

they're automatically a fight

I'm going to address these last to first.

Random encounters shouldn't jump right into fights. If used as intended, they come with an encounter distance, meaning sometimes you just see signs of the encounter, or you spot them from far away. And they should also come with what used to be called a reaction roll, which dictates how the encounter feels about the PCs. These were rolled on 2d6, which meant there was a bell curve that favored results in the 6-8 range, which were usually something like "wary" or "neutral."

Second, the logic of random encounters. If you're using them right, random encounters should make sense. They should only have a chance of happening in places where the encounters could be, and encounter tables ought to be chosen based on location. So you won't get a dire trout in a desert or whatever.

This last bit is the hardest one. If it feels like a random encounter would disrupt "your story," you're probably running a game whose underlying philosophies are opposed to random encounters, yes. It's probably also opposed to many other frameworks that were present in traditional/old-school rule sets. If your game has a pre-planned story or plot, if that plot requires a certain pace or order, and if the injection of outside elements would disrupt that plot, you probably shouldn't use random encounters.

(You also shouldn't use D&D or its cousins. You might also not want to have other players, since they can disrupt those plots. But that's just me being petty.)

A page of random encounter rules from Advanced Dungeons & Dragons. This is a shitty example. I promise it's easier than this.

So when SHOULD you use random encounters? Use them if the game you're running is attempting to simulate a world that has its own logic and background that is not dependent on the player characters. Random encounters help show that the world is in motion at all times and that people and creatures move about of their own volition. They don't show up when it's meaningful to the plot or the other characters; they wander. They're random.

Another key component of this style of gaming is that they usually consider story as something that emerges from or comes after play. "Remember how we tried to cross the raging river full of electric eels, and you dropped your sword, and I almost died, but we made it across? That was awesome." These things didn't happen because they were important plot points predicted by the DM; they are the results of rolls at the table, rolls that are honored in their immediacy and only made sense of after the fact. Does this mean that you risk having a disjointed mess from which no pleasing story can emerge? Yes! But you also risk having a story emerge that no one could have planned, that is equally surprising and pleasing to everyone at the table.

This emergent storytelling is probably the greatest joy of the random encounter. Don't approach the encounter with, "It doesn't make sense that a goblin would be here." Instead, adopt the attitude of, "Let's figure out why this gobllin would be here." (And while you're at it, use that same attitude toward books you read and movies you see.)

A related aside: in some play cultures, the DM is considered to be someone who plans everything out and slowly reveals bits of story as rewards to the other players. As a DM, this can feel really stagnant, and it can be a lot to keep track of, and there is far less joy of surprise. Using dice at the table to introduce new elements can bring some of that fun back to the DM.

Everything I've said so far is a synthesis of dozens of rulebooks and blog posts I've read across a decade of running games, so please allow me to introduce a final element: my own experience with the joy of random tables.

In 2014, when 5E was coming out to great demand on the backs of Stranger Things, Critical Roll, and The Adventure Zone, I started running a campaign for friends and coworkers. There was no developed play culture around 5E at the time, no cottage industry of third-party developers. So in running it, I was drawing on what I had been reading for years: old-school roleplaying and story games.

So I prepped my starting town (doing way more work that I would today), including random encounter tables for the area. And when the players were out searching for some ruins and getting lost west of town, I rolled a random encounter. It was some gnomes. All the gnomes here had escaped from a gnome hell for greed, so they weren't exactly kind. And their reaction roll was just south of neutral, so they were a little surly.

A bad screenshot of my "west of the town of Wall" encounter tables.

They led the players to the ruins and waited, trying to trap them inside after they'd been run down by the undead inside. But the players overcame the trap and told the gnomes off. (They didn't want to get in another fight after going through the ruins; more emergent storytelling.) So the gnomes ran off, but they would remember this.

Flash forward to a different session. In the main mega-dungeon under the town, the players were exploring a new area. Another random encounter: the devil of gnome hell! It was a giant mole with masses of earthworms for limbs, and it was searching for its escaped prisoners. It threatened to kill the PCs unless they gave it a magical item. So Pepper the elf gave up his winged sword, which he'd found in the aforementioned ruins. He loved that sword.

And here's where it all comes together. The gnomes were trying to settle the land west of town, but the humans had a fort there. The players were going to that fort to get some information about the faerie realms. How could I show this situation in a way that would, as succinctly as possible, illustrate the tension while giving the players a choice on who to join? Well, the gnomes would be attacking the fort. This normally wouldn't be much of a battle…but the vengeful gnome from the ruins had made a deal with the gnome devil for power. And now he was wielding Pepper's sword, using it to fly over the fort walls and attack.

Pepper was pissed! He wanted his sword back! The other players were more interested in figuring out a way to stop the ongoing conflict between gnomes and humans. And the gnomes were split between wanting to peacefully settle their new land and get revenge on the players for driving them off from the ruins. Who would prevail?

I hadn't planned a story, but I had created a situation a story was likely to emerge based on the players' actions and the results of the dice.

Conclusion

This isn't me saying this is the only way to play. It's not the only way I play. In a short one-shot or a tightly paced, emotional game, I would never use random encounters. But they can be fun! And they (and their associated suite of rules) can address some of the issues that lead to DM burnout and genre predictability.

If you find me in the wilderness, I will fight you.

#rpgs #dnd #random encounters

[houseofpurplestars]

The text following is an archived reddit post from Aaron Bushnell. Begin quote:

I've realized that a lot of the difference between me and my less radical friends is that they are less capable of imagining a better world than I am. I follow YouTubers like Andrewism that fill my head with concrete images of free, post-scarcity communities and it makes me so much more prepared to reject things about the current world, because I've imagined how things could be and that helps me see how extremely bullshit things are right now.

What I'm trying to say is, it's so important to imagine a better world. Let your thoughts run wild with idealistic dreams of what the world should look like, and let the pain and anger at how it's not that way flow through you. Let it free your mind and fuel your rage against the machine. It's not too late for you or anyone. We can have the world of our dreams tomorrow, but we have to be willing to fight today.

#free palestine #free gaza #i stand with palestine #palestine #gaza #solidarity #resistance #aaron bushnell #lillyanarkitty

[ashersanity]

whitney vs rapechester ville

whitney beefing with the entire town, hissing like an angry kitten because that’s literally what they are, a little bitch that I’d enjoy watching be put in their place. pasted from my reddit, so shitty, lazy rambles.

whitney vs low confidence!robin : yeah, whitney wins in this one. robin’s honestly too scared shitless to really do much against them, lets themselves get beat up before PC eventually intervenes.

whitney vs high confidence!robin : robin 100% They’re confident enough to stand up for themselves now and they literally sucker punched a full fledged bodyguard and made them pass out on the spot in that one scene. that’s like.. twice the strength of a max physique, large body type and sadistic PC. robin deals massive damage and wins easily.

whitney vs kylar : depends. they both like to play dirty in their own way if pushed far enough like in the cafeteria scene where whitney either wins or loses depending on who PC cheers for, but in the bully’s defence, they got kicked in the crotch while they were distracted. If we’re speaking strategic fighting, kylar probably wins. pure strength though? whitney definitely.

whitney vs pure!sydney : poor syd will be sobbing as Whitney crushes their glasses beneath their shoe, claiming that one shouldn’t fight back since everyone deals with their own battles in life. solemnly wipes their tears away right after. only time I can see them win is if it involves for PC’s sake and they completely snap.

whitney VS corrupted!sydney : this one’s difficult. I feel as though sydney is actually on par with whitney’s strength if they had fighting experience and whatnot. they were able to pull whitney over the counter in the library in that one scene with surprising boldness. I’m betting on sydney though because the motherfucker would be moaning from a punch alone and that just throws the delinquent off completely, striding away like they didn’t just hear that.

whitney vs bailey : bailey obviously. they’re built like a fucking brick wall and survived getting stabbed. totally sweeps the floor with the bully, leaving them bloodied and bruised up on the ground, nosebleed, broken teeth, fucked up face, you name it. just walks away right after since they have better shit to deal with and doesn’t like wasting time. whitney will still demand that kiss from you later though.

whitney vs eden : again, eden. they got like 600 or 800 health, I don’t remember. practically the strongest human NPC in terms of raw, physical strength. either way, whitney gets absolutely BODIED, thrown over the forest ground like a rag doll, offered as a chew toy to wolf!PC. The fuck are they going to do anyway? send their little delinquent friends to jump Eden? yeah, don’t think that’s happening unless they want their little gang to get murdered too.

whitney vs avery : usually whitney would win, y’know 70% chance and they also got the advantage of not caring if they make a scene in front of the whole town. depends if avery got rage maxed out, feel like it can get pretty serious from there when you deal with an enraged middle-aged adult. plus they can just run over the bully’s body with their super-expensive, worth more than whitney’s entire bloodline, car.

whitney vs leighton : yeah, it’s whitney. the old fuck doesn’t stand a chance against a bully that beats the living shit out of people for fun and snaps at the slightest provocation. doesn’t mean they entirely lose because they can make whitney’s life a living hell in more ways than one.

whitney vs alex : considering alex’s physique and the fact that they run an entire farm on their own with the help of PC, alex wins. slings whitney over their shoulder like they’re a stack of hay and feeds them to the pigs for food.

whitney vs black wolf and the great hawk : pretty self-explanatory on its own. it’s literal beasts against a school delinquent. they’ll rip the bully to shreds if they even dare try anything against them, but whitney’s an impulsive little shit that doesn’t back down regardless of the danger imposed, so’d they probably end up doing it anyway.

whitney vs wren : another L for whitney, it’s a grown adult versus a school student, they’re not doing shit and will only hurl insults at the smuggler that’s able to keep their cool unlike the others. gets sold off as cattle right after because it’s funny to think about cow!whitney.

i’d do more, but there’s too many NPCs to keep up with.

just the last category.

whitney vs sub!PC : depends if sub PC just relents to them like that, if yeah, they’re letting the bully dig their shoe into their crotch because it’s degrading like that.

whitney VS defiant!PC : PC absolutely. it’s not talked about enough of how much defiant!PC is an absolute menace in their dialogue that wouldn’t hesitate beating the living shit out of someone just for the sake of keeping their body unmolested.

#yeah #why make them suffer..? #cuz it’s fun? #no fucking shit? #dol #degrees of lewdity #whitney the bully #robin the orphan #kylar the loner #sydney the faithful #sydney the fallen #bailey the caretaker #eden the hunter #avery the businessperson #leighton the headteacher #black wolf #the great hawk #wren the smuggler #asher rambles #too much

[taintedcigs]

modern!eddie popular culture hcs:

he would LOVE the scream movies. dressing up as ghost face is his hobby. he kinda loves scaring ppl randomly. and loves the way you get squirmy when he talks to you in a deep voice behind the mask.

he would be the biggest saw, wrong turn, evil dead fan. has billy the puppet in his room. whenever he's writing songs he talks to billy and sings to him. the first time you went into his room he did a little ventriloquist show for you. but immediately covered it up once u said it was scary. (apologized to billy and gave him a kiss while doing it LMAO)

he loves rob zombie, house of 1000 corpses is one of his fav horror movies and firefly is his one of his fav trilogies, (hates the halloween movies he made, sorry rob) and loves rob's music. (i just know he vibes to pussy liquor.)

he hates requel movies and probably elevated horror. he just wants some good scares and some gore. (and he makes u watch a lot of stupid movies for this reason)

he hated nu metal at first, but it grew on him quickly!! ofc he listens to deftones!!! flyleaf, korn, limp bizkit, rage against the machine, and sevendust.

he didn't care for mcr at first. but once he found out about the storylines of the albums he was HOOKED. he told u all about the stories like it was a bedtime story and he keeps posting his theories on reddit.

he used to be a LOT more strict about what he listened and had an idea of "real metal" but now he listens to whatever. enjoys some fob and paramore at the end of the day.

he's obsessed with game of thrones. read the books before the show came out. probably criticized the show for being so different but he still loved it. (probably annoying to watch it with him bc he's the type of person to be like "THIS ISN'T WHAT HAPPENED IN THE BOOKS!! in the books daenerys breathed differently!!" but u love him so its super adorable!!!) he created a 98 page rant about the show's ending. loves daenerys (this is kinda self-indulgent), and DEF fantasizes about doing a got roleplay with you!!! kinky lil shit <33

#em talks #eddie munson #eddie munson headcanons #i probably have sm more but still ! #i just had to get this off my chest omggg #eddie munson x reader

[sacrificetotheart]

i kept seeing a post on my feed about manifesting (it was a reddit post screenshot that was posted on pinterest and re-uploaded here!) but i wanted to make a post about it in case people didnt know the original. and let me tell you - the whole original post is absolute G O L D.

the original post.

why do i feel the need to post about this? this reddit post was the first post i had ever read about neville goddard. this was the post that launched me into the law of assumption community.

i was so sick of seeing law of attraction content online saying you have to always be happy, you have to take action, you have to blah blah blah. there were always so many rules?????? unnecessarily many. which lead me to google - “manifesting is easy” and then my life changed.

the whole post is incredible and if you are reading this then i highly recommend to read that post too. it changed my life so much that i took that post and PRINTED it out. yes, printed.

copy & pasted into word, went to the library, printed the several pages out, stapled them together, highlighted everything i wanted.

i still have the document in my drawer and occasionally when i dont want to over consume or im feeling out of sorts, ill whip it out & have a quick read before putting it away and continuing with my day.

while i hate taking on other peoples limiting beliefs, the reason that reddit post really spoke out to me a lot was because it just calmed the storm in my mind. while every other social media platform that spoke about manifesting had so many rules - JJ’s post was simple.

you are the creator. what you say goes. make your own rules.

JJ’s post was honestly an incredible way to be introduced to neville’s work. im eternally grateful to have accidentally stumbled upon it while in a blind rage against the law of attraction community lol.

#law of assumption #loa blog #loa tumblr #loassumption #manifesting #neville goddard #law of attraction #my post #loa #loassblog #reddit #loa assumptions #edward art #universe #manifestation #thoughts #my thoughts #manifesting is easy

[rainyfirecollection]

I posted this theory over on reddit, but I figured I'd stop being a tag-lurker over here as well.

Per Bud Cubby at his first introduction, halflings in Solace are a "model minority" who nonetheless often have problems with the police and are stereotyped as thieves.

We are later given additional context from Gorthalax in Season 1 Episode 9 that "Solace used to be a human country. Well, actually, originally it was a halfling country, but then humans came in and conquered it, but then it became Solace."

My theory is that Kipperlilly is pissed about being a member of a colonized capital-R dnd Race, expected to fit a jolly friendly halfling trope and go along to get along as a model minority.

According to this theory, Riz triggers Kipperlilly's rage both for and at him, because he reminds her of herself, and she sees herself in situations that he gets in. Halflings and goblins are both small races stereotyped as thieving and untrustworthy. When Riz is called The Ball and he laughs it off, she sees the ways that she might be minimized and dismissed as a halfling, and the expectation for her to laugh it off.

She could be angry for him, for people treating him that way, and also angry at him, for not being angry himself.

Look at how Kipperlilly's dad is described:

"Polite... eager... perky... tryhard." (by the guy who has met him) "Desperate." (by the BKs who have not, but I found it evocative)

If someone makes a halfling joke, he might be the kind of man who would laugh. If someone is uncomfortable giving their keys to a "sneaky" halfling realtor, he might pretend not to notice. If Kipperlilly grew up watching this and being told that's the only way she's allowed to react, I imagine she might have quite some big feelings about it.

Kipperlilly's energy is the very picture of "I've been raised to think I have to be perfect, I can't leave anything open for anyone to find a problem with, I have to do everything right and cover all of my bases." The very picture, in fact, of a model minority.

It also makes sense in this character study that she would find satisfaction in winning against the spirit of the rules. She's been raised to be a careful rule-follower - but she's not happy about it.

This theory gives a personal connection to Ankarna, as a god who lost ground to Sol, whose followers also colonized Solace. A shared unfairness.

It connects with commiseration ("you get it, you understand studying hard, you and I have to do that") towards Riz, as well as particular disdain towards Kristen, the chosen of Helio.

Finally, whatever Kipperlilly's anger issues are about, she has been extensively interacting with Jawbone about it, and he keeps defending her and saying she's not a bad kid. As well as comparing her to Riz himself.

Jawbone is very understanding and broadminded, but I think he might be talking about her a little bit differently if she was "a nepo baby, pissed at not receiving even greater unfair advantages" or "mad at Riz for not being romantically interested in her." He definitely wouldn't be suggesting to Riz that they have a lot in common in the second case. I imagine he'd be more like, "yeah I get it and you should keep your distance, even though I as a guidance counselor and adult don't write her off."

If it's about legitimate unfairness that she experiences (even if she's misdirecting it at the Bad Kids), it makes a lot more sense and that's something Jawbone as a werewolf could really get.

Reasons I think this theory would be good if true:

Number one, not specific to this theory, but I really appreciate that Brennan has continually been taking Kipperlilly and her anger seriously so far.

I'm chill if she's turned full villain for it. I'm chill if it's made her open to exploitation as a flunky by villainous adults. But I do really hope that there's no twist to make her come off as shallow, flimsy and ridiculous for it. That's the more traditional way to treat a teen girl's anger, especially if there's additional reasons that society has for delegitimizing her. I think it would be a missed opportunity.

Number two, I think this theory would continue in the pattern this season of "other people pointing out problems that you might not necessarily see." Porter and Gorgug. Kristen and Tracker. Mazey and Fabian (Fabian definitely was aware, but he was still mostly ignoring the issue and Mazey brought the loneliness into the light). Riz already has Sklonda doing this, but why not dos. (Important to note that the people providing this commentary are not always 100% correct, but are instead shown as having their own biases. Riz might still be like nah I'm solid on who I am and my friends and I do in fact like being called The Ball and there's not a single issue with it.)

Number three, I think it also really helps the story that Ally is telling about Kristen's flaws this season. "I'm angry because I see myself in this person's situation and he's reacting in a way that I dont like or can't access - my anger at my own situation is being projected at him" isn't very far from "it pisses me off that she exists without the struggles that I have - my feelings about my own situation are being projected onto her." Which is what Ally said was Kristen's feeling toward Kipperlilly upon meeting her.

This whole thing also helps underline what's so misguided about Kristen's reaction there. Just because someone doesn't have your exact struggles, doesn't mean that they don't have any intense struggles that disrupt their lives of their own.

Why this theory probably isn't true:

I haven't thought of anything that directly contradicts it / makes it impossible. However I do think there's a missing evidence problem. If this was the motivation, it seems likely that Brennan would have found a moment this season to remind them of the history of colonization. It could have been dropped in with Kristen's storyline as a reminder of how Sol's and Helio's followers have sucked before, and not even stood out as a Clue.

However, it seems likely at this point that "Ragh spoke to Jace before he was infected" is gonna turn out to be an important Clue that would've been helpful for them to remember, and he hasn't been making sure to remind them about that past information. It definitely seems like they all brushed up hard on everything before starting this season, so that might give him the pass that it's on the players to remember these loredrops.

Regardless, I had fun thinking about it and combing through the transcripts to find that Gorthalax quote, and that's what counts.

Final unrelated note that doesn't deserve its own post:

I've been finding it immensely heartwarming how Jawbone talks about Kipperlilly, and how Henry talks about Ruben. I'm being healed.

#fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #fhjy spoilers #kipperlilly copperkettle #riz gukgak

[era-the-witchy-birdkid]

DP X DC Prompt/Idea

Long time writer for the DC fandom (mostly Batman specifically Tim Drake joins the batfam early AUs and Titans Tower AU) on Archive, Danny Fenton also known as Astroboy2025, decides three days after his ‘Accident’ to create a Jason wakes up a Halfa in his coffin fic. He only does this to help himself process his emotions after well lets be honest his death and revival. And later once the ghost attacks pick up and he picks up the mantle of a hero as a way to covertly get advice/figure out on how to fight ghosts better by transplanting all his ghosts into Gotham for Fic!Jason to fight.

Danny wasn’t expecting much to come from this, he wasn’t expecting the fic to blow up in popularity for ‘creative storylines’ and ‘unique original villains with a ghostly flare to go against the ghostly Robin now named Phantom’ it was just a vent fic with a bit of wishful thinking on his part with Ghost!Jason and Bruce's relationship being so close (He ends up writing Jason getting hugs and affirmations that Bruce still loves despite all the ghost stuff that happening now whenever his Parents go on a tirade about how all ghosts are evil and need to be ripped apart molecule by molecule)

He definitely wasn't expecting his fans to find out about the real Phantom and figure out his identity from there. (Blame Penelope Spectra she had a history unlike the others in his rogues gallery with a bloody trail across America of sharply increase Suicide rates in more isolated smaller cites/large towns that was being tracked by Redditers that had hard stopped in Amity park just a few days before he dropped the chapter of Jason facing her himself)

While the Amity Park tourism to see a IRL Hero in action, and the Anti-Ecto acts Riots, as they would later be called, made by DC fans throwing a fit about the threat to the world’s first superhero were the lesser consequence in the grand scheme of things. Finding his fan Discord was a trip and a half especially since Tucker had to hack into it into the first place because his fans we're extremely protective of his secret ID and reinforced the server a crapton to be stronger then most banks.

While Sam was insisting on this being a horrible Idea and he should try to dissuade his thousands of fans from the truth of his Identy. Danny was just chill with it after the brief panic. And the Fan Discord was super helpful for getting Advce with! while the jokes that he was Batman Adoption bait was annoying the group was amazing for ideas on how to train his powers and advice on how to better fight ghosts. the Discord even make a Power list for him so he wouldn’t forget a power because he wasn’t training it. plus the comfort they gave after Circus Gothica was A+ even with the jokes about how the Batfam curse of clown trauma, despite matching the look as a human batman isn’t real so as much as his fans joke about him being the prefect Bat bait that will not happen.

To bad after a particularly nasty ghost hate rant in front of him in ghost form while being shot at by his parents that before the server would spawn 3 chapters of Family fluff in his fic, was whatched angrily by a fan who in a fit of annoyed rage said these words. “I really wish batman WAS real, then maybe you could be safe in your home for once”

unfortunately Desiree was out and about and heard the wish granted she had no idea who Batman was so went to read the DC comics after that. Good news the DC universe is so messed up as is that Desiree decided no twisting was necessary she’d just to bring everything to life. Bad news all the supervillains now exist along side the now existing superheros and Desiree is now Kaiju sized and now way to powerful for Danny to deal with alone... 

At least the now real Batfam are taking their sudden existence well? and are willing to help Danny stop the Mad Genie dispite the risk that they would pop into nonexistence (with the entire city of Gotham and the other cities, villains, and heroes made real by Desiree’s power) if she’s stopped

#dp x dc #dc x dp

[bucknastysbabe]

Just Like You

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3,470

Tags: Targaryen!Reader, Aemond’s twin, Everyone Has Issues, Criston you dirty creeper you, Violence and war, Aegon is still an idiot, the princess is batshit, pnv!sex, blood play, rough sex, age difference, power play

A/N: He’s a deeply flawed and dark individual and I wanted to play on that. Good ole hypoCriston my love. Criston art by @CheRo_Art on reddit :)

Criston watched and advised the princess while she ran through drills on a dummy, blunted tourney sword moving in quick jabs. She had already mastered archery and maneuvering in close combat. For a girl, she was just as fierce as her twin Aemond.

Although she lacked that calculative coldness that he held. The princess was hot headed and loose of tongue, quick to shoot a cutting barb. Her braided hair shone like pale beaten gold in the sun.

“Plant your feet, lest you’ll get knocked over,” he said.

She snarled and did so, hitting the dummy with a loud ‘thwack’. Criston’s lips involuntarily turned up. The princess was a good fighter and craved to be the best. Alicent or her Septa used to drag the girl from the yard howling. The queen allowed her daughter to train under him when it became apparent Aegon would rather waste away in his cups.

She’d grown from a lanky girl into a woman before Criston knew it. She was leanly muscled and leggy with sharp features. The spitting image of her twin, the princess carried long straight hair like Aemond. She twisted it into braids to keep it out of the way.

She paused to take a swig out of the wine skin, wiping sweat off of her forehead. Her purple eyes were focused on him, frighteningly intense. Nothing he wasn’t used to. Criston hummed, “What’s on your mind, princess?” Her braids swayed when she stretched in a half-circle.

“When will I get to fight you, Ser Criston?”

He laughed while her features grew pinched.

“This is not a jest ser.”

He leaned against a wooden fence, sizing the young woman up. Clanking of swords echoed in the background, Aemond himself unleashing a barrage on a knight. She held her ground, defensively crossing sinewy arms. He shrugged, “Fine then. How do you think you’ll fare against the morningstar?”

“Bring it Cole.”

He sauntered to his weapons and pulled the familiar spiked weapon out, giving it a twirl. Grabbing a shield he turned to her expectant gaze, eyes flashing with excitement. He shot, “Go on girl.” Her eyes narrowed expectantly— Criston knew every weakness by now.

They circled around each other, her on the defense. He was proud of that, emphasizing to the Princess that she needed to wait for an opening and parry them down. But that was for the average man, Criston was aware he was no average man.

He lazily whipped the morning star around, drawing closer. The Targaryen huffed in annoyance, holding herself at arm’s length. She spat, “C’mon with it!” He gave a crooked smirk in return watching her scarred knuckles whiten in anger. She was growing impatient with his lazy circles.

With a cry she launched forward with a downstroke of the sword, Criston easily blocking it and striking at her side. She parried the blow with her shield and struck again. He stated, “You will wear yourself down princess.”

“I’m tired of waiting!”

Aemond had stopped his training to watch with an amused smirk. He stood imposingly, eye flickering around their spar. She shifted the sword up, batting the morning star backward. Criston punched the shield forward to her open shoulder, sending her stumbling.

“Don’t open yourself up like that.”

She grimaced in silent rage, holding the shield in a more protective place. He parried two more jabs and swung down on her shield with a deafening crack. She held ground and stepped back to gather herself. He taunted, “Let’s go then, thought you were itching for a fight.”

She hissed and attacked again, this time landing a smart blow to his side. Criston winced and clashed the spiked ball around her sword, the chain wrapping around the iron blade. He pulled, sending the instrument flying. She cried in surprise and bashed her shield against his own, staggering the knight.

Criston sent the spike down in an arc, cracking the wood of her shield. He demanded, “Yield.” She shook her head and tried again, the wood splintering up even more. The Kingsguard repeated, “Yield before the shield breaks and your face is torn.”

She threw the broken thing down in frustration, tears welling in her dark eyes. The princess growled, “That was awful.” She paced over to the water, slugging some down. Criston watched as she pounded her fist against the unforgiving wood, face not indicating the pain she inflicted. The wild princess had a strange habit of that, said it focused her mind.

As a result, once fair skin was constantly mottled with scarring and open sores. It reminded him of Alicent’s picked raw nails, the mutilation an outlet for their roiling inner emotions. He strode over to her heaving frame, placing an arm on her shoulder.

She shrugged it off petulantly and hissed, “I don’t need your pity, Ser Criston.” He shook his head and praised the girl, “You did great. Do remember you’re sparring with a vetted member of the Kingsguard and Marcher skirmishes.”

Wine colored eyes bore into him with heat. He shoved down a memory of another’s fiery purple eyes with a bob of his throat. Clapping interrupted the stand off. Aemond approached with a smirk. He drawled, “Good fighting sister. You’ll be a force when war comes to our door.”

She grumbled, “I hope so. I’d like to not be stuck on Skysinger for every battle.”

Aemond tilted his head, “I’m sure Skysinger would enjoy seeing her rider fighting too.”

She gave a smile to her brother— more of a humorless baring of teeth. Criston noted she internally weighed herself down with duty and excelling in what would be a man’s endeavors. Filling in for Aegon’s shirking of anything worthwhile. He wondered if the serious young woman ever loosened the constant tightness in her shoulders.

She said, “I’m going to wash up now. Thank you for your guidance Ser Criston.”

He watched her stalk away, a peculiar feeling in his chest. Part of him wanted to see the princess covered in the filth of battle, bloodlust fully awakened. Cole’s waning moral side wanted to stash her in a tower and keep the princess safe. He knew better with a dragon like her. Couldn’t be put down. She craved a warrior’s life, idolizing the great Visenya like a god of old. He wouldn’t deny the Princess that. Especially with the king on his deathbed and plans stirring. He didn’t have time to dwell on silly feelings for now.

Days Later

Criston was tired. Aegon was to be crowned this morning, as was his birthright. The whore Rhaenyra could burn in seven hells for all he cared. He knew Aegon could be manageable under guidance, down deep the young man craved love and acceptance above all else. Criston would be the guidance he needed. Otto was weak.

Aemond was pissed after the escapades this morning, Erryk escaping like a coward to lick the Black’s boots. The blonde paced around the chambers, face screwed up in thought. His twin was perched on a table, legs rudely spread under her dress. She picked at her nails with a knife. Her blonde hair was combed and pulled back into intricate braids.

Criston felt she did not look right in the green samite dress— leggings and thick boots fit the younger sister more. She too looked uncomfortable, unused to the finery draped on her warrior’s build.

Aemond ranted, “How are we to make a powerful statement when he’s still drunk and weeping?”

“Should’ve let the sot run off to Essos,” the princess japed, still focused on her nails.

Aemond paused, giving his twin a withering look. He deadpanned, “The fool would die within a fortnight.” The knight chided the two, “Do not speak of your future king like that. He’s sobering up and we will all enjoy the day.” The princess sucked her teeth, rolling a bruised shoulder. The prince returned to his pacing.

He leveled the twins with a look, “Best get to the training yard soon after, there’s a war coming.”

She grinned. Aemond’s lips cruelly twisted.

Weeks later

Duskendale was in ruin. They had thoroughly routed the port town. Lord Gunthor Darklyn was beheaded. Aegon and his sister bathed the streets in dragon flame. Criston couldn’t forget the sight of her pale braids flying in the wind as she cracked her whip on Skysinger and howled, “Dracarys!”

Aegon remained on dragonback while the princess unleashed Skysinger to feast on the town while she cut down foes on foot with glee, blood painting her pale features scarlet. Even whilst giving orders and fighting, Criston could see the blood lust in her eyes.

Now they camped outside of the burning mess of the town, gathering for the march to Rook’s Rest. In the hastily drawn grand tent, the Hand looked over the map of the seat of Lord Staunton and the surrounding areas. Aegon was celebrating their win— slinging Arbor red around with a busty maid in his lap. He slurred, “My dear ‘alf sis’ser will send aid to Lord Staun-ton and we’ll take that dragon out the sky like Aem’ did to lil’ Luke!”

The princess snapped, “If you’re going to behave like a Flea Bottom lecher get out of the tent! What will your precious Sunfyre do if it’s the Blood Wyrm or the Red Queen, hm?”

Aegon blinked dumbly.

“Daemon and Rhaenys have twice the experience and their mounts are older than ours you lackwit!”

The princess hissed, jerking her shoulder at Criston, “Lord Hand we are at war and our King is lit up like Oldtown!”

Aegon of course couldn’t come up with a response, cheeks pinking in embarrassment. He murmured, “I’ll be in my own tent then, fucking bitch.” Criston sighed, rubbing his forehead, “I’ll come get you later my king, enjoy the victory. Everyone is dismissed until the morn.” Criston was glad of Aegon’s decent ability to slink away and rage elsewhere. Non-confrontational.

The princess scoffed in indignation, mouth hung open.

Criston jabbed a finger in her direction, “Not you, princess.”

The other lords and knights murmured, one japing about the princess’ balls of Valyrian steel. As the last lord filtered out, he inclined his head to the map. She stalked over, still clad in her armor and rough leather emblazoned with the golden dragon of her brother. The princess dug her bloodstained hands into the worn table.

Criston inquired, “Since you know so much, what do you suggest my princess?”

Merlot orbs peered at him, lids squinted in suspicion. She stepped closer into the Hand’s personal space, smelling of her house’s motto. Fire and Blood. The blonde declared, “They know we’re here, even my idiot brother knows that,” the knight frowned as she continued, “Ambush. Send Aemond on Vhagar, I’ll keep watch back at the Red Keep. They won’t expect that.”

She had a good idea, along the lines of what he was thinking too. The knight japed, “How surprising of you to offer up a battle to Aemond and Aegon. You make our king upset as is,” he gripped her arm roughly, “And you will stop doing that. We must remain united.”

The princess held his intense gaze, breath heaving. She was pissed at his admonishment. The girl hissed, “I wait for a greater win. Aegon can have Daemon or one of the Velaryons. I want the bitch.” Her aquiline nose almost touched Criston’s own when she said, “Maybe Aemond will be the only one to return and we shall have a better king.”

The knight twisted her arm behind her back, bending his princess roughly across the rickety table. She yowled in anger, unable to move, a whimper of pain escaping. Cole threatened in her bejeweled ear, “Speak ill on your King again and you’ll go home to the black cells without a tongue, dear girl.”

The princess wriggled against Criston’s strong hold, grunting with effort. Her toned ass rubbed against the Hand’s own breeches, causing a reaction he knew was brewing. She spat, “Let me go, you know me to be right, he’s worthless! Aemond and I were raised correctly under you!” He only used his other hand to shove her cheek into the map.

Criston swore, “You’re too keyed up to think rationally— the heat of the battle has your thinking warped. Always were a bloodthirsty, hateful one weren’t you? That’s why they couldn’t find you a suitor.”

He grinned at the helpless writhing, her cheeks a delightful red, tears at the corners of her long lashes. She weakly retorted, “Says the one who killed old Beesbury and beat a man’s head in at a damn wedding. Is that why Rhaenyra scorned you as the men do me?”

Rage filled Criston’s chest at her jab. His cock swelled with blood at the exchange of barbs— her relentless rutting to get free. The princess made another weak noise, eye’s frantically darting around. She tried again, “Let me go, Cole!”

“No. You need a lesson. Obviously I didn’t teach you to shut your godsdamned mouth when speaking to superiors. I’m disappointed, truly. Spitting such vile and unholy things.” He twisted her arm a bit further, eliciting another cry. She struggled more, the fight slowly dying.

Soon the princess grew limp under his pin, panting breathlessly. Criston hummed, “Good girl. You do have ears after all,” he loosened the pinning hand on her head to cradle that lovely pale hair. The girl whined softly, eyes clenching shut in embarrassment.

“What do you say, girl?”

A soft reply was his answer.

“M’sorry. Lord Hand.”

She was still limp under his body, lips closed up now. The princess swallowed thickly at the feeling of Criston’s heavy cock slotted between her ass cheeks. He huffed in laughter, “I don’t know why bad girls like you always get me going. You bring out the worst in me, princess.”

She seemed broken down, mewling another apology. So the Dornishman let go of her arm and allowed her some space. He felt that the fiery woman had calmed some, maybe wanted a fuck now. He sure did— maiden bless his twisted soul.

Next thing the man hit the ground with a ‘thunk’ and clanging of armor. Cole’s damn favorite princess straddled his strong hips, both hands tightly curled around his throat. She grinned, spittle flying from clenched teeth, “I don’t know why bad knights get my cunt soaked but here we are, Ser.” She tightened her grip, Criston scrabbling at the crazed Targaryen’s gauntlets.

“You’re a dirty man, Ser Criston, getting hot over the girl you’ve sworn to protect since birth.”

Using his strong core and legs the older man flipped her onto the ground. On top, he ripped her hands from his bruising throat, cock ready to bust. She wrapped long, lean legs around his waist and rasped, “Fuck me, Ser Cole, take my maidenhead. Spill my blood.”

In his eyes she had never looked so lovely. Blood stains, wild braids, manic eyes, and a wide grin. He ground against her clothed cunt and grunted, “You’ll take my cock and not shed a tear. I didn’t raise you to be a weeping maid.” Her eyes narrowed, guttural moan erupting from a pale throat. He scolded, “Should’ve known you were acting, mean little bitch.”

Their lips and teeth gnashed together in a feral manner— grunts and moans as two alphas fought for dominance. She pulled and tugged at his armor, knowing the ins and outs from a small stint of squire work. The whole time she nipped and licked into his curved lips, drawing blood. The princess moaned at the metallic taste, eyes rolling up in her head.

Criston pulled back to yank off his loosened armor. Little by little his olive skin was revealed to her purple eyes. He cursed, “Start undressing princess.” She arched her hips up for Criston to shuck down her leather leggings and pulled at her jerkin and mail. More barbs were exchanged as their covers were slung around.

The former kingsguard laid out his cloak for her body, not wanting to rut in the dirt like complete animals. She ran sharp nails teasingly through his chest hair and abs. Criston was mesmerized by her milky thighs and pert teats, milky white and tinged pink. She was lean, but statuesque and just as gorgeous as the maiden intended.

“Fuck- you’re a sight,” he murmured.

Ever impatient, the princess pulled Criston’s body flush to hers, moaning excitedly at the feeling of his hot prick against her weeping cunt.

She rubbed her small breasts against his broad chest, lashes fluttering erotically. The blonde chanted, “Fuck me ser, fuck me, make me bleed, c’mon.” She grew frantic, seizing his lips with desperate whines.

He tried to calm her frenzy by grabbing her sinewy thighs and securing them around his waist. He groaned lowly at the feeling, licking into her sloppy open-mouthed kisses. Criston promised, “I’ll split you open princess, fuck you good, gods forgive us.”

“Fuck the gods,” she spat, grabbing his slickened cock and guiding Criston to her entrance. Once again the man knew he was cunt-struck, unable to resist, thrusting brutally into her heat with a drawn-out groan of her name. He silently prayed for forgiveness at the sight of her virgin cunt split open and bloody.

“Fuck yes, don’t stop,” the princess growled, sinking her teeth into the meat of his neck. Criston snapped his hips in rapid succession, chasing a reckless high. The princess writhed and cried loud enough for the whole camp to hear. His hips stuttered when the blonde nipped his ear and breathed, “So mean, just like I always dreamed Ser. Choke me.”

He wrapped his tanned hand around her slim neck, almost encircling it, like a pretty necklace. Criston moaned, “Gods above- stop it or I’ll end this faster than we want.” He squeezed at the pumping vessels on the column of soft throat, slaps of his body meeting hers echoing in the shoddy tent. She arched up into him, gouging her nails in his tense back.

Cole’s mouth hung open, groaning on every slick pull of her pussy, all caution thrown to the wind. She rasped, “Hurts so good, so good to me, make me bleed!” She whined and squeezed her strong thighs around him, meeting Criston’s brutal rutting fully. Her face was grew red and blotchy from his grip, so the brunette pressed a little more. Dug a little deeper, moved his thick fingers to play at her button.

The princess convulsed, bloody lips gaping, eyes rolling back into her head. She couldn’t pull any air in, Criston holding his princess down and pinching her clit until her slim lips were purpling.

She sucked in breath, a wet gasp, shaking and coming apart with hoarse sobbing. She cried his name, dragging more scores of blood across the knight’s back. Wave after wave of tightening pulses and slick surrounding Criston’s prick. He couldn’t risk it regretfully.

He pulled out of her sweet, tight, perfectly ruined cunt and splattered his seed on her scarred belly. The princess’s brows were drawn together as she sniveled and gulped in dramatic wet breaths. Criston rolled to his side, tucked next to the crying thing. He pushed back her sweaty brow, tilting a sharp jaw towards him.

Criston whispered, “Why do you cry princess? I will never speak of it again if you wish.”

She shook her head, shrugging. Her loyal protector stroked and coddled the Targaryen until she seemed more lucid. They laid together, sweat cooling in the summer air. Dim noises of outside happenings echoed. Criston would have to dismiss any and all rumors tomorrow. They wouldn’t dare say anything to his face or possibly face the wroth of the mercurial twin.

“I think I felt something other than rage for once. I don’t know, Ser Cole,” she admitted in her usual raspy voice.

“You can call me Criston,” he said.

“No. You’re my knight, always will be,” she sucked over the bruised bite marks over the man’s shoulder, “I trust you. You make me feel like I’ve done something other than be the spare cunt to sell off.” His lips curled up at the blonde’s words, giving her a nip on the thin skin of her collarbone. Criston swallowed down the guilt and deep seeded satisfaction boiling in his gut.

This was war. No time for semantics. If he wanted to fuck the insane princess after a battle then who was to say no? Aegon certainly wouldn’t and he was the King. Alicent kept in the keep, out of the way. Criston sighed, “Are you sure you want to sit out the siege at Rook’s Rest?”

“Someone’s got to watch the Keep,” she intertwined her long legs with his own, “We will celebrate the victory when you get back. Bring a head on a spike for me, will you?” The Lord Hand nodded dutifully, promising to bring her a dragon skull. When Criston finally put Rhaenyra in the ground he’d marry his princess, he decided.

#criston x reader #criston cole #ser criston cole x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #targaryen!reader #she crazy #so is he

[carlyraejepsans]

Since everyone is sharing words of love for you, I'd like to send some of my own. You inspire me every day to be a better media analyst, artist and person. Your very existence makes me feel less alone; even when you're just posting about things happening in your life. When you posted about how you felt like you finally found your people in uni, it made me feel I could do the same one day. Now I have met real friends online that I talk to and feel like I belong with. (still waiting for an irl group to show up in my life but PROGRESS IS PROGRESS!)

Not so funny enough, one of my trans friends in the group was attacked online by someone we banned from our Discord server who tried to imply that my trans friend was bullying children and flirting with them (no fucking evidence needed for everyone to jump on board of course bc reddit) and it was infuriating to watch. We didn't even experience it the same way or even scale maybe that you did (though one of his friends was harassed by her off of Discord entirely) and I would still not wish that rage I felt on anyone. I'm glad we didn't respond to it and make it a big thing, but good god I hated it. All this to say, you're definitely not alone in this experience, these attackers don't know what they're talking about and I wish you as much peace as you can keep to come your way as soon as possible.

Love and appreciate you, bestie!

thank you emma, you're an absolute darling. wishing you the best on finding yourself a group of bastards IRL!

sorry about your friend. pedojacking innocent trans people sure is everyone's favorite past-time lately (ie: since the dawn of time. L.M.A.O.) i hope they find some peace of mind for themselves as well. what a horrible fake accusation to have thrown against you

#answered asks

[strykingback]

Jaune Arc. The most HORRENDOUS example of a FUCKING KNIGHT.

Trigger warning for this being a drunk as hell post because I decided to drink after a long day of Valentines BS and wanting to make thi post to make one teensy weensy Jaune Stan mad.

Oh yes Rooster Teeth and CRWBY I'm gonna fuckin' shit all over your useless-ass knight character. Why? Because I fuckin' can. So eat a whole ass fucking dick.

So you know Jaune Arc from RWBY right? Literally the "knight character" of the series right. WELL FUCKIN' WRONG. Cause this knight is the example of "I Wanna Be the Main Character" syndrome and literally betrays everything that a knight is meant to do.

So as we know Jaune is meant to be a reference or referred by his naming convention to the actual JOAN OF ARC

Joan of Arc who is well known as history's most bravest female knight of all time. Who had managed to push back many British soldiers all while she received a vision from God in order to continue her rage against the British invaders during the Hundred Years War. Now if we're talking about the Arthurian Legend then this talk would be hella different.

Now starting things off. What pisses me off the most is why wasnt Jaune a fucking woman to kick things off. Like one of the most influential knights in human history being reduced to a secondary wannabe "I wanna be the MC" head-ass boy. Like not gonna lie it would have been much better if he was one cause it would have made a lot more sense if their semblance was seeing events before they happened which woulda made more sense and would have fit Jaune's historical illusion.

But naw. Make his semblance the generic. "I Need Healing" head-ass.

now this would mean that he would be following the Code of Chivalry which this useless-ass knight has failed in so many levels. Take note that there are two Code's of Chivalry one from the Song of Roland and one from the Arthurian Legend of King Arthur. and the following two state.

Song of Roland’s Code of Chivalry: 

Fear God and His Church Serve the liege lord in valor and faith Protect the weak and defenseless Live by honor and for glory Respect the honor of women

King Arthurs version of the Code of Chivalry: 

Honor Honesty Loyalty Valor

Immediately right off the bat we know for certain that Jaune does not respect the honor of women especially in Vol 9 where Ruby has a whole ass mental break down but Jaune says "Oooh I M THE MAIN CHARACTER! YOUR JUST A FUCKIN' BITCH AND YOU NEED TO LET ME HAVE THE SPOTLIGHT" like tell me that is immediately a massive fail especially when Jaune had respected Pyrrha so much so to the point where this man had multiple different arcs over the course of what. six fucking seasons and still has not gotten over her death. Now yes he did follow through with Penny's Idea.... which was a horrendous idea not gonna lie....

Dude shes fuckin' dead. MOVE ON WITH THE LESSONS SHE HAS TAUGHT YOU. YA FUCKIN' REDDIT MOD LOOKING HEAD-ASS!!!!

Next would have to be Honesty has he literally cheated to get in. Now I count this as a half fail. cause he did prove to have potential in the earlier seasons of RWBY but at the same time. He lied to get into Beacon Academy. which only made me think.... what did Monty cook up for him before Rooster Teeth and CRWBY fucked everything . Another would have to be Loyalty which is a hardcore fail. As he assisted RWBY (aka the four terrorists) into literally destroying an ENTIRE FUCKIING KINGDOM. Actually TWO if you're counting Mantle. Which is just fucking stupid cause this man would warn people and then suddenly everything has to focus around him like once again "Main Character Syndrome." instead of Ruby Rose who IS SUFFERING IN VOLUME NINE!!! Oh Oh Oh. but wait theres more.

but then when Ruby does the Unalive congo and everyone is shocked.. guess what everyone has to hug Jaune cause he is going through shit. When Ruby had it worse!!!

Aka The Four Dumb Fucks who wont realize their Leader just unalived themselves and they just hug the "Main Character Syndrome: Jaune who is going through it instead of mourning Ruby.

What is there in Honor for a man who barely can honor a friends death no less in the "possible afterlife"

Valor- Dude is the example of I'm a fuckin' coward and I need assistance in order to harm the big fuckin' bad.

Loyalty- Jaune " I followed my friends to destroy an entire Kingdom" Arc.

Everybody Jaune Arc. Is Full o' bullshit and he is the worst example of a fuckin' knight who should never get an arc again!

#tw: drunk posting #tw: drunk #RWDE #[To Be RWDE or Not to Be RWDE- RWDE Posting]

[memesmadefullmetal]

Hello, I come bearing Alphonse Propaganda.

1. Tumblr is the only platform that could allow Al to win. Reddit polls in particular tend to end with Ed vs. Mustang showdowns, because Al isn’t “hardcore” enough or whatever.

2. Alphonse Elric is one of those characters who’s both generally appreciated and underrated. Most people like him, but more attention goes to his role as a foil for Ed than to his own value and flaws as a character. (Sure, he’s cute and kind, but he’s also lonely, kinda ruthless, brilliant, full of rage, master of snark, and a confirmed troll. Through all that, he still chooses human connection over everything else again and again, to the point that he’s willing to “go against the flow of the world” if it means not sacrificing a single one of his desires).

3. While it may be painful to acknowledge, there are some things too important to sacrifice for the sake of a bit. Alphonse Elric is one of those things.

4. Dogs are wonderful, but let’s not forget the cats here. A vote for Al is a vote for both cats and dogs (including Den). He loves them both. Enough said.

Your mods agree! Al really does go under appreciated 😔

[x] Vote here to potentially get your boy to the finals! 🐈 🗳

- Mod Mustang & Mod Hawkeye 🔥🦅

#fma #fmab #fullmetal alchemist #metal meme #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #best fma character royal rumble #alphonse elric #round 4: the semi finals #ask us anything!

[ineffablyruined]

A submission for the @goodomensafterdark Angst War!

Rating: Mature (Non-Graphic Violence)

Summary: Aziraphale receives news of Earth and hopes to make it before it's too late.

---------

He’d run himself ragged playing three dimensional chess against the Metatron and Archangels, and still the Horsemen had been called. Still the sun darkened and the moon disappeared. War claimed countless souls. Starvation and sickness claimed more. And God was silent.

At first, his rage needled like pinpricks of ice against a heart that should have been full of nothing but love for the Almighty. Her creation was toppling by Her angels’ hands, and Her silence was deafening.

After two months that frosty rage had coalesced into a cold, calculating Supreme Archangel who felt nothing as he ordered lower angels about as though they were pawns in his game - meant to be sacrificed for the ultimate goal. Saving humanity. Saving.. well. Everything.

And four months after his return to Heaven, he was alone in the whiteness. His pawns had been played and discarded. His strategy had failed. And his colorless future stretched into eternity before him.

Until Muriel burst sputtering and sweating into his office, spewing a horror story from Whickber Street. Suddenly, he was an inferno; logic burned, thoughts melted, and he was left with a raging desperation flaming through his very being. And the knowledge that he couldn’t do this alone.

----------

Continue on AO3

Read it on Reddit and meet a bunch of other GO-obsessed fans!

Special thanks to @mrscakeishere and @paperclipninja for their beta reading and support!

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #gomens fanfic #aziracrow #ineffable idiots #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens fanfic #good omens fanfiction #good omens after dark angst war #good omens after dark #goad angst war #goad angst war casualties on the rise #ineffablyruined

[lookmomiwrite]

Art by @robustaart. Check them out! They're very talented and do commissions.

I found this art on Reddit and after reading thirsty comment after thirsty comment, I was inspired to write a story with this character. Enjoy! And follow for more.

The Serpent of Selune

The doors of the tavern swung wide and rain sprayed across the old wooden floor. A young woman followed, head held high and her veil dry, despite the raging storm. The typhoon stayed even the most daring captains from leaving port and forced sailors to take refuge in taverns along the harbor, gorging themselves on food and drink in a gluttonous celebration of respite. Sarelin let the doors shut behind her as she left a trail of watermarked bootprints in her wake. She stood for a moment, eyes scanning the patrons before her.

Their eyes latched onto her and murmurs spread through the groups of sailors and dockhands; though, most returned to their games, food, and drinks. A man stood from a table sat in a dark corner of the tavern and made his way to Sarelin. He was covered in ragged clothes, pants ripped above the ankles, boots with holes, and a sweat-encrusted shirt with its sleeves haphazardly rolled up to his elbows. He stopped before her, bottle of rum in hand, and swayed side-to-side as he drank.

“Miss, you’re standing before Dungan, known as Blackburn, The Prince of Pirates,” he said with another swig of his bottle and a stifled laugh. He swung around to face gawking patrons, hands held high in an expectation of praise and applause, but when none was received he turned his attention back to Sarelin. “Why don’t you come join my boys over there, we’ll show you a good time.” He reached for her with an unsteady hand but Sarelin swatted him away before he could make contact.

“You smell like a stray dog.” Disgust filled her voice as she spat those words at him.

Sarelin pushed past the drunk and he stumbled back. Onlookers mocked Dungan with laughter as he retreated to his table. She carved a path through patrons to sit at the bar next to a man dressed in a fine leather tunic over a white sailor’s shirt, both opened in the front, which revealed his bronze skin below.

“Do you always have to dress like you’ve just left a brothel?” She asked.

“Only when I want to annoy you, Sare. Besides, if we’re talking about sex appeal, I’m completely outmatched. Half the tavern still have their eyes on you. No one but that drunk has noticed me.” The man chuckled as he motioned to Dungan — in a way someone laughs when nervous to meet an old friend — and downed the last of his ale. His solemn countenance returned. “I take it since you’ve traveled all the way from Alomont, you’ve accepted?”

“I just thought I’d hear you out in person, Garrick. Besides, I’ve missed our little adventures and the hunting grounds in Alomont are becoming sparse.” Sarelin removed a mirror from her bag then adjusted her veil. She shifted the mirror to look over her shoulder, the image behind her dim but still bright enough to reveal the sailor who harassed her. “It looks like poor Dungan had his feelings hurt.”

“Ignore them, they’re not worth your time. Tonight should be about reminiscing of the past and looking to the future. I’ll buy you a drink and tell you about the plan, they have a special ale here that I’ve—”

“No, not yet, there are matters to attend to before we start. Excuse me for a moment.” And before Garrick could try to stop her, she was halfway to stairs that led to the guest rooms. Unlike the well lit and noisy dining hall, the maze-like hallways of the upper floors were calm, dark, and empty. The noise of patrons below faded as Sarelin walked deeper into the labyrinth, replaced by bellowing winds and taps of branches against walls and windows — an otherwise cozy place if not for the foul smell of the fish market.

Sarelin spun at the sound of floorboards croaking and met the glare of Dungan. His breath reeked of rum and vomit, his gait wide and boorish, his words slurred nearly to the point of drivel. Dungan dropped his empty bottle and grabbed her hands. “It’s dangerous for a little lady like you to be alone at night—“ he paused a moment before feigning spontaneous thought, ”I know, how about I help you find your way back. I’m the Prince of Pirates after all, what is a prince if not chivalrous.” Dungan belched out a drunken laugh and pulled her towards a nearby room as she screamed. *** “Ho! Innkeeper, a pitcher of Holn White Ale, will you? Heard it’s your new specialty.”

“Aye, Garrick,” the Innkeeper answered, “Haven’t seen you in years, what brings you to Holn?” The Innkeeper was a heavier set man and renown for his ales. Twenty years of serving up food and drinks from his family run tavern made him a man of secrets, and not just of the brewery.

“Just a bit of business, as usual. Anything interesting? Rumors, bounties, murders maybe?”

“Murders, ay? There is a new killer. Guards found bodies two weeks ago. Already been five deaths since. The Serpent of Selune, they call ’em. Leaves the bodies shriveled up like jerky, no blood or wounds, say’n it’s a vampire — I’m not sure what to think but the church put a thousand gold piece bounty on the killer’s head. Not sure about you, but I’ve never seen a bounty that high for just a vampire.” The Innkeeper paused before being called by another patron. “Busy night, lad, tell me some stories when it dies down. If you want the bounty, I’ll give you the bishop’s calling card. White Ale, on the house.”

Garrick gave the man a nod and drank from the wooden tankard. The tavern was as lively as ever. Years ago, Garrick brought his own crew to shelter under the same oaken roof. Six long years traveling the world by ship, making a name for himself that would become his legacy, and returning here for rest. The sound of heavy-footed drunkards freed from his thoughts and he set down his ale as Dungan’s crew surrounded him.

A man leaned over the bar and smiled as he propped himself up by his elbows. “Where’d your lady friend go? Hope nothing bad happens while you’re away.” The men laughed on cue as if they rehearsed their petty threats beforehand.

Another one spoke, “What? Can’t hear or someth’n?”

A third joined with a crooked grin, “We’re say’n we’re gonna join the captain. You gonna stop us?”

Garrick turned to the men and raised his tankard. “That lady friend is a woman who needs not the protection of a man like me.”

Dungan’s crew glanced at each other, faces contorted, trying to grasp Garrick’s reluctance to help a woman they thought he was acquainted with. Each shrugged and stumbled to the stairs. “Guy’s not very fun. Was hoping to step outside and teach him a lesson,” one muttered. *** The door swung open and Dungan’s crew walked in, met by a woman sat in a chair next to the bed, one leg crossed over the other and her head resting in her hand — bored. Dungan hunched over a pillow in a dream-like state, humping wild as he cried out for his men to join him. The men cackled in unison.

“Control yerself boss,” the lead man said.

“Too worked up to see he’s fuck’n a pillow.”

“A bit too much rum,” another said.

Tears rolled down their cheeks as they verbally lashed their boss. Sarelin straightened in her chair and placed her hands into her lap. She looked to the trailing crew member, a scrawny man with scars that lined his body and gave him an air of authority among scoundrels. “Close the door.” Her voice cracked like a whip and her eyes glowed yellow. The man stiffened and shut the door behind him immediately.

The other men turned on the man as they laughed, Looks like the captain isn’t the only one who's overeager. Good boy, Vernon.”

“Silence.”

Dungan and his crew froze and the room fell to silence. Sarelin stood from her seat. “Men like you are pathetic. You drink a bit of alcohol and lose control. You believe you are strong and I am weak. But here you all are, frozen with fear, charmed by a woman far more dangerous than the seas you hide from tonight.” She turned towards Dungan and placed her hand on his head. Her fingers bit into his flesh as she squeezed, but they did not pierce the skin to wound him. Instead, they passed through like a phantom in the mists, doing damage not physical but ethereal. “There are things much worse than death — Watch.”

Sarelin pulled her hand away and a flash of red light filled the gap. Dungan’s body began to shrivel. The light grew dim and took his form, shrunken by Sarelin’s black magic and malformed, closer in appearance to a tumor than a man. She ripped her hand away and held it high. Dungan’s body slumped over the pillow. “This is a soul. An ugly one, made grotesque by his actions. And I’ll have each one of yours soon enough.” Sarelin walked to the leading man, her gait light, each step slow and deliberate. She seemed more a queen than the demon she was. A tear rolled down his cheek. A relic of the laughter the men shared moments ago or from the fear he felt now, Sarelin couldn’t tell — nor did she care. *** The dining hall quieted as guests retreated to their rooms. It was nearly midnight. Sarelin strolled down the stairs, her face bright and lively despite the hour, eyes sharp and focused as she took her place next to Garrick.

“A full meal tonight… Guess I’ll order for myself then.” Garrick said with a smile. “Why not have a drink? The Holn White Ale is quite good.”

“How chivalrous of you, to notice a parched lady’s thirst. I expect nothing less from the true Prince of Pirates.” She leaned into Garrick and wrapped her arms around his. “Now, let’s hear about your plan to plunder the church’s treasury.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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#fantasy #short story #creative writing #writing #fiction #magic

[dykesbites]

i didn't like the original post that added this screenshot from aaron bushnell's reddit so here it is reposted:

Transcript: I've realized that a lot of the difference between me and my less radical friends is that they are less capable of imagining a better world than I am. I follow YouTubers like Andrewism that fill my head with concrete images of free, post-scarcity communities and it makes me so much more prepared to reject things about the current world, because I've imagined how things could be and that helps me see how extremely bullshit things are right now.

What I'm trying to say is, it's so important to imagine a better world. Let your thoughts run wild with idealistic dreams of what the world should look like, and let the pain and anger at how it's not that way flow through you. Let it free your mind and fuel your rage against the machine.

It's not too late for you or anyone. We can have the world of our dreams tomorrow, but we have to be willing to fight today. End transcript.

#aaron bushnell #kaya.txt