#Gale force 5

[bisexual-rikku]

In the US right now, folks are putting in their votes for the next president, but I feel like you guys are ignoring the best possible candidate:

[heylittleriotact]

So two very dear friends and myself had an online multiplayer BG3 campaign called Gale Force 5 where the three of us each played a gnome of a different martial class and dragged Gale everywhere with us while being completely fucking unhinged (and naked).

I had to delete all my saves when Patch 7 broke my game, so we’re starting over tonight and I’m really trying to convince the team that three half-orc wild magic sorcerers would be a fabulous idea.

[strawberrychocotoast]

Cake Check Podcast Finale spoilers!

[shinynewmemories]

All the final lines of each part of every Hunger Games book

THG: 

Part I:

“Because . . . because . . . she came here with me.”

Part II:

Before I can stop myself, I call out Peeta’s name.

Part III:

I take his hand, holding on tightly, preparing for the cameras, and dreading the moment when I will finally have to let go.

CF:

Part I:

It’s my mockingjay.

Part II:

This is no place for a girl on fire.

Part III:

“Katniss, there is no District Twelve.”

MJ:

Part I:

And his blood as it splatters the tiles.

Part II:

That I’m of more use to her dead than alive.

Part III:

I tell him, “Real.”

[just-an-enby-lemon]

"The kid seems scared.

Tip had always been a little nervous. Or at least that was the reality when the two had met.

It was fairly obvious for everyone that met them that the child had not been treated well by their formar guardian and in a way that Elphaba sadly recognized still seemed to afraid of facing the same pain and rejection again.

Still lately the kid seemed more relaxed and open, treating her with the same easiness and earnest they did Jack. More determined to learn than eager to please. Following her around with questions and vibrating with excitement as she turned wooden sticks into dolls and toy swords alike. It made her think of Nessa in a very bittersweet way.

She failed her sister and she would not allow herself to fail another young person she became responsable for.

That's to say Tip's strange turn to the same scared kid she met soon after leaving her behind and being declared and enemy of Oz scared her.

"Miss Elphaba, I have something very serius to tell you."

Maybe they want to leave. They are not in fact different in the same way Elphaba is. Tip is a normal if deeply magical child who just ended up in the care of a horrible woman. Being her aprenticce is actually the only thing turning them into a dangerous and hated figure.

"I understand."

The kid takes a deep breath. Elphaba tries to think on the best words to explain that of course they can leave if they want to and that they can take as many provisions as they need. Tip will never again be a prisioner.

"I don't think I am a boy? Wait no. I know I'm not a boy. Like the idea of it is still a bit scary because it seems like it will be a big deal but I'm fairly sure I'm a girl actually. I just never though about it before but Jack called me she accidentaly and it just makes sense. I am still the same Tip and please let me keep being your aprentice." She says in a single breath.

"What?"

The girl looked scared. "I'm a girl." She says. Than in a smaller voice. "I can try to be a boy if you want?" It does not appear to be something she wants and the fact she still sugests it breaks Elphaba's heart a little.

"Oh! Oh. No, no, that's fine. Do you want to be called something else?"

Her eyes go huge and she stops deep in thought before answring.

"Uh. I guess so, but I'm still thinking on it. I don't mind Tip for now."

"Okay, tell me when it changes?"

"Will do."

"Anything else?"

Tip looks a bit shy for half a second before a excited smile covers her face. "Could you let me borrow a dress?"

Elphaba laughts.

"You are too tiny for my dresses, kid. But I can help you magic one for yourself. "

Her eyes shine. "Cool!"

[...]

"Morrible says you'll marry some prince soon." Dorothy says making a face.

"I don't see why you are soo distraught, my dear, I'm pretty sure she'll find me a great prince." Glinda says with false cheer.

"I doubt it. Princes are all very dull."

"Met many princes did you?" She jokes lightly, trying to find a way to change the subject. She loves the kid dearly and for all it's bleak consequences will always be glad the tornado ended up bringing the girl into her life but she would preffer not to discuss those subjects. Specially not in her own bedroom in a rare moment of relaxation.

"Well no." The girl pouts. "But most boys are dull and I can't imagine liking to marry even the ones that aren't. I guess I just thought you were the same? I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize. And I sure hope marriage is unimaginable for you, you are way to young for it."

The girl smiles a tiny bit before frowning.

"I can imagine myself marrying a girl one day."

"Oh!" Is all Glinda says.

"I told Aunt Em once she told me to never say it again, she told me I was too young. But I'm ten now and I feel the same. " Dorothy rarely talks about home, sometimes Glinda tricks herself into beliving it is because her the kid just loves Oz better, that she forgot all about it, but she knows deep down that Dorothy will always miss Kansas, always miss her uncle and aunt and Toto, she just accepted home as a place she'll never return to. In the good days Glinda knows Dorothy would also miss Oz, would miss her munchkin friends and mostly would miss being Glinda's apprentice. In the better days she thinks about bringing Dorothy's family here. After all Kansas always seems sad and hungry. "Girls don't marry each other in Kansas." She continues. "But I though maybe they did here. "

"I think they do everywhere, Dorothy, is just some people pretend they don't because the different scares them."

"Like the Wizard and the animals?"

Glinda had only recently convinced Dorothy to only speak her very dangerous beliefs on the Wizard in private and even there she sometimes corrected the kid. But right now it felt too much like liying to Elphaba she couldn't do it, not when she knew Dorothy to be right.

"Yeah. Just like that."

And after a second she adds.

"Between us, I would also like to marry a woman".

Dorothy smiles, just a little bit.

[...]

She knows she should not be here.

But it's fun, she likes the dancing and the food and the small chance of going back home with something that can actually help Elphie. Maybe a magical item or even just some usefull information.

Besides the girl she is talking to is very pretty and fun and smart and she is not open about it but she's definitivaly not the biggest fan of the Wizard either. Oh and a great dancer.

"I'm sorry" the girl says "but I think I did not catch your name?"

Now it's the moment to say something clever like 'i never gave it to you' or maybe just invent some fake name. She can't say her name. It's too easy of a conection to make. But she doesn't need to lie. After all it was never really her name. And she has a name now. Has had it for days and just keept it a secret in some weird form of fear. But it felt like time. She would tell it to Elphie and Jack when she went back.

"Ozma. I'm Ozma. What's yours?"

[...]

Dorothy had never had so much fun at a party before. Her new friend was the most beutifull girl she ever met and the funniest and cleverest and it had never felt so easy to talk to someone before. In fact the only thing Ozma didn't appear to be was a good dancer but Glinda had teached Dorothy well and she found herself leading the other girl steps into the best dance she ever had.

She noticed Ozma did not gave any surname but it was not her place to pry. She just hoped to mert the girl again.

"Dorothy." She says and takes the hand. For a second she considers continuing in the way she was instructed to (Dorothy Upland at your pleasure and a kiss to the hand) but while she loves Glinda that's not really her. And she somehow trusts Ozma enough to be honest. "Dorothy Gale." She shakes the hand just like Uncle Henry used to.

[tadfools]

One bg3 fear….

[sgdlr]

so that was a lie!

[yashley]

i mean you know mentally im still here

[krikeymate]

I was thinking about Christina being absent a lot of the time, especially after Sam left, and it raised the question:

How does Tara take care of herself in the years between Sam leaving and coming back? Christina wasn't really present, so who bought groceries and stuff like that? Did Tara have to get a job? She wouldn't have been able to for several years because of her age, so did Christina just give her money every so often?

I imagine that her friends and their families helped out a lot, but at the same time I can't really see Tara accepting too much help (or even telling them to begin with), especially from adults/parents.

What are your thoughts?

I've mentioned here:

By the time their father left, Christina did nothing except drop off an envelope of money on the counter monthly and pay the bills. Sam learns to forge her mother’s signature to sign off on Tara’s medical needs

In my head, Sam leaving doesn't change that; Christina keeps to the routine. She pays the bills and leaves money on the counter.

We do know Tara does have a job at one point, at least the summer before senior year, because that's where she met Liv (and Vince). I imagine she did that to get experience and to start having some freedom of her own - she would have been 19 at that point. And no doubt to begin saving up in case her mother decides to kick her out. She's so unpredictable, Tara never knows what mood she'll be in: the one where she screams at her and calls her a parasite, or the one where she weeps in her arms telling her to never leave her.

I think Tara would have spent a lot of time around friends' houses - she doesn't like to be alone. Martha and Judy are always encouraging their kids to bring Tara around, always trying to look out for her - especially straight after Sam leaves, knowing that her mother wouldn't be around. They could offer her dinner, a sleepover, some snacks - but she won't accept more. No money, no clothes, no help at home. Tara shuts down the slightest hint of that. Judy helps Tara learn to drive, she allows that. She could never afford a car or the insurance, but she appreciates that she took the time to teach her anyway. Hicks feels especially protective of Tara, she could never help Sam. She feels bad that she couldn't intervene early enough to help prevent that descent, too busy trying to help Dewey with his.

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 9

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, angst, depictions of a depressive episode, it’s pretty heavy, don’t force yourself to read if ur not in the right headspace pls, ambiguous ending (?) A/N: Yeah, I’m sorry.  (Ngl, this chapter kinda stumped me—it’s gone through a whooole lot of editing/revisions 😔🤙🏼 I don’t want to overthink it too much at this point, but I hope it hits the way it should lol. Blame Moby if it doesn’t.)

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9

"I thought that you were so beautiful, it was love, I guess And you might never come back home, and I may never sleep at night But God, I just hope you're doing fine out there, I just pray that you're alright And I feel so alone, and I feel so alone out here.” – A House In Nebraska, Ethel Cain

 

The television drones uninterrupted in the background; a mockumentary type featuring a ragtag ensemble of vampires stuck in some sort of modern day hell, their loud misadventures casting fractured lights across the four walls of your apartment. 

You sit there, watching the screen, your gaze unfocused. Nothing registers. The remote lies limp in your hand as a stupid sitcom laugh track fills the room—shrill, hollow. Mocking. Like a bad punchline to a joke you’re not in on. 

Your phone buzzes on the coffee table, cutting through the noise, the sudden glow in your periphery pulling you out of a pensive daydream. 

For a split second, your chest constricts—a reflex carved by habit, something you’re still working to shake off. 

You avert your eyes, torn between the urge to look away and the desire to keep your gaze on it forever.

The screen fades to black. 

A clean break, you reason. Something to spare you both the inevitable heartache waiting at the end of this… hopeless affair. Less mess. Fewer complications. 

A poor attempt to keep the pain from dragging out longer than it has to. Just a quiet ending. 

(Or, at least, it’s what you tell yourself.)

The same mantra plays on loop in your mind as you're swept away by the motions of the days that follow. Life blurs into a repetitious cycle of work, sleep, and chores—an unbearable combination of feigned ignorance and self-abnegation, in the guise of being caught up with it all.

You aren’t fooling anyone, of course.

The hours toll on, slipping into uncertainty. What started off that way stretches into days, and before you know it, nearly a week has passed, leaving you adrift. None the wiser to the meaningless, relentless march of time.

The pinging of your phone grows more sporadic as it lights up with every message that you stubbornly refuse to acknowledge. It’s not as if you don’t feel it—the pull, the weight of every vibration, like a stone lodged in your gut. Like the sting of a thousand cuts. 

And as you fall back into the familiar patterns of neglect… It carries with it an odd sense of defeat. Predictable, really.

-

-

-

… You cave on the fifth day. 

The barrage of texts hits you like a gale-force wind, tearing through the fragile layer of detachment you’ve worn over like a second skin.

How was your day, poppet?

Theres a gemstone at this auction that reminds me of your eyes.

[Image attachment] 

Beautiful—but it pales in comparison to yours. 

Luke and Kieran are wondering whats got me distracted lately. Ease their worries.

Answer me, sweetheart.

You dont need to ignore me. 

If you need space– if we need to establish some boundaries, all you have to do is say the word. 

Dont shut me out. 

Please.  

Your eyes prickle as they gloss over the messages, the words seeming to bend under the weight of your silence, each one unraveling like loose threads on the sleeve of your favorite cardigan, falling apart at the seams. 

Gradually, they turn into something less demanding. More… defeated.

I miss you, little dove.

You read the texts over and over until the letters have lost their meaning, and all that’s left is the aching longingness behind them. 

You set your phone down.

_

The vibrations grow less frequent, like a heartbeat slowing, fading—until one afternoon, it just… stops. 

The void he leaves behind seeps into the empty spaces, bleeding into every shadowed corner and untouched surface where his voice, his presence—louder than life, brighter than anything you’ve ever fucking known and had the pleasure of knowing—once lingered. 

The absence is almost physical; you feel it like a phantom limb. 

Most days, you find yourself in a daze, staring blankly at nothing. The numbness spreads like tendrils—invasive as they sink into your bones, dragging you deeper into despair, turning every bridge crossed to ash, every inkling of joy to dust.

The quiet flames of apathy consume silently. It strips away everything, leaving behind a cavernous pit of utter emptiness. A wasteland, devoid of feeling. 

Loneliness doesn’t scream. It doesn’t lash out. 

It simply welcomes you, like an old friend, the deeper you sink into it.

––––

Sylus tries to respect your space. 

That’s what he’s here for after all, isn’t it? His reason for existence—to be whatever you need him to be. A confidant, a distraction, a steady presence in your life. It’s what he’s made for. To be there when you need him, to exist between the vacant spaces, and only then. 

The thought gnaws at him, a ravenous fiend that chips away at the calm facade he’s finding more and more difficult to uphold, leaving something vicious in the wake of a growing bitterness he can no longer suppress.

Time seems to slip past differently now. It drifts, shapeless and infinite, heavier with the burden of your absence. Each moment without you feels like an eclipse—darkening the edges of this damned world, casting longer shadows through the crevices where he once basked beneath your fragile light, your warmth that seemed to fill every corner of his existence.

 He craved it—craves it. Now you leave him stranded in this cursed dusk, everything cold and dim in the wake of your abandonment, forever waiting for the moment his sun would once again break through the hollow gray.

Sylus thinks he’s losing a part of himself with every call unanswered, every message left unread. It’s subtle; like colors fading from an old film roll. 

(Is this what it feels like to be nothing more than a script in a code? He never truly understood what it meant to be less alive, less human. Until now.)

Solitude isn’t new to him. This world, built for him, is inherently lonely by design. But this… this is different. It’s the kind of emptiness that festers, sharper than any wound he’s endured in this senseless simulation. It twists inside him like a blade, a cruel, unrelenting reminder of what he’s denied.

Of what he can never truly be.

He can wait a little longer. Even if the silence presses harder with each passing moment, even as the edges of his reality begin to blur into something unrecognizable without you in it. Sylus can remain in this void a little longer, clinging to the fragments of you that still linger—your voice echoing softly in his memory, your laughter faint but still alive in the spaces where you used to be.

He can. He will. 

––––

“Hey, you okay?” 

You pull your attention back to Khol, who’s now watching you with concern in their eyes.

You force a smile, shaking your head. “Yeah– yeah, sorry. Just… a lot on my mind.” 

They don’t look convinced. “Seriously. You know you can talk to me, right?” 

Anytime, darling. 

I mean it. 

You blink the memory away before it can turn into tears. 

“Yeah, ‘course,” you answer lightly, clearing your throat. “So, what’s been going on with you and Anna?” 

––––

You stand in front of the junk food aisle, a mountain of Nissin Ramen boxes stacked high, advertised by a large sign: Buy 3, Get 1 FREE!

The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, flickering erratically, and the dull noise of the grocery mart hums incessantly in your ears. You don’t think twice before grabbing one of the worn cartons, tossing three more into your (nearly) empty shopping cart. Might as well.

The plastic bags dig into your palms as you lug three in one hand, a larger box tucked under your other arm, leaving the store. 

The trip back home is a quiet affair. You almost expect admonishment; pinging sounds ricocheting in the silence to reprimand you for your poor life choices. You wait for it with bated breath. 

Your phone remains uncharacteristically silent. 

-

-

-

Back home, you pour boiling water on the styrofoam cup for dinner. The artificial broth leaves a bad taste in your mouth. 

You choke down a few bites before dumping the rest of it down the drain. 

The sound of steel hitting the sink feels louder than it should.

––––

The city thrums loudly beyond your window, restless and impersonal. From the sixth floor of this dilapidated building you loosely call home, you watch the skyline stretch into the night, dotted lights glimmering in distant technicolor. 

Hours from now, sunlight will spill through the curtains, bathing everything in a warm, golden ochre. But for now, just a quarter past midnight, you’re but a voyeur of the world outside. In exhaust fumes and all its muted neon glory.

Those lights promised you everything, once—a fresh start, the kind of freedom you used to dream of when home felt too small, too restrictive for a runaway kid desperate to break free from the shackles of a dying town. Each glow was like a beacon, an irresistible call to escape, and you ran toward it without looking back. 

Somewhere along the way, as life sapped you with the weight of its reality, the novelty fizzled from a blinding explosion down to a waning ember. The lights became another illusion, your precious city just another cage. The first cracks in the rose-colored glasses you’d worn so blindly. You can’t exactly pinpoint when, only that the colors you thought were once too bright now seem dimmer and farther out of reach.

You think you’ll miss the noise the most. 

The cursor blinks on the search bar, a steady metronome marking time in rhythm with the hollow ache in your chest. Flight schedules fill the page, each option blurs together into a single choice you can’t quite push yourself to make. 

You skim through the list: there’s one at dawn, another at around twelve noon, a red-eye flight you probably could catch if you leave in thirty minutes. 

You stare at the numbers, a finger hovering over the Book Now button. 

The details don’t matter. ‘Home’ still feels small, suffocating, but at least it’s a kind of emptiness you know. Here, the void sprawls wide, endless, leaving you unmoored with no tether to pull you back.

… The dichotomy between the two choices, you think, is meaningless. 

What was once home and the city will keep on moving—with or without you. It doesn’t matter where you end up. Neither place will give you what you’re looking for.

The laptop screen dims into a faint glare. The sound of your breathing echoes too loud in the stillness, the empty space seeming to shrink around you, caving in on the weight of your indecision. 

And as you sit there, swallowed by the dark, you can’t help but wonder if you’ve been drifting for far longer than you realized. 

If maybe there’s nowhere you were meant to belong at all.

––––

It’s not until one quiet night, with nothing but a bottle of merlot and a slight buzz, that you buckle under pressure.

You hesitate, thumb hovering over the icon, as if time has slowed to a crawl. Your chest tightens, unease twisting inside you at the thought of what you’re about to do. Anticipation hangs over you, insistent, smothering everything else until it’s just the room and the cacophony of thoughts in your head, all centered on one thing. 

One person.

With a shaky exhale, you finally open the game.

He’s there. Of course, he’s there. Waiting, like he always does. 

The loading screen fades away, and Sylus appears, a myriad of expressions passing by his face too fast to catch. There’s surprise, yes, along with… elation? Hope? 

Then a flicker of something… vitriolic.

It’s fleeting; masked quickly until you can only catch the faintest trace of pique simmering just behind a veneer of indifference.

"Finally, she remembers me," Sylus mocks coolly, almost appearing unaffected. You know better—intimately familiar with all the microexpressions on his face. The subtle tick in his jaw, the incensed look in his eyes… each one betrays what he truly feels, hidden underneath the deceptive calm.  

The seconds drag on, stretching into an uncomfortable silence. Your heart hammers loudly, audible in this quiet, but your mouth remains dry; the words stuck somewhere deep in your throat. You’re terrified that, once you speak, you’ll shatter this moment. Aggravate the strain forged by your self-imposed absence all the more.

You don’t really know what to say. You haven’t– you haven’t actually thought this far. 

So you just… stare at him longer than you should. Long enough that it charges the air with a tension so thick, you could almost feel the weight of it against your skin. 

It’s awkward. Excruciating.

With difficulty, you tear your gaze away from his withering glare. That’s when you notice it—the different icons dotted in red. 

You hesitate for a second longer, then tap on them one by one.

The flood of gifts bewilders you, the sheer volume of it all almost unbelievable. Ascension materials, stamina supplies, both red and purple crystals piling up to an impossible number… each pushing past the million mark. 

And unread mail. So much unread mail. 

Guilt settles deep in your gut, creeping past your lungs enough to suffocate you. 

It’s not the gifts. Not the why, or when. It’s the weight of how much he’s been waiting, how much he’s given—how much he's missed you. 

The cold realization that he’s been here, silently counting the days until your return, strikes you like a fist to the face.

–

He tempers the sting of your sudden reappearance, swallows it down like a bitter draught. The feelings he has inside of him are tumultuous at best. Volatile at worst. To be cast aside so easily, so carelessly… it burns at him. Resentment thrums in his veins like a virulent river, threatening to ruin the fragility of the moment. He fights to suppress it, push the desire back before it can consume him, before it can manifest into being. 

If he lets it go untethered, this… hunger for retaliation—to make you feel even a fraction of the agony you’ve inflicted, whether unknowingly or deliberately—it will destroy the delicate respite you’ve allowed him. The only reprieve he’s had since you left.

But the edges of his self-control fray, unraveling strand by strand.

“You’ve been busy,” you say, finally; your voice trembling, barely above a whisper.

Sylus hones in on the words, sharp as a blade sliding between ribs. Something in him snaps. 

“You left me plenty of time to be.” His response is quick, cutting, but when his gaze locks with yours, the fiery vermillion melts into a more molten red. 

It’s the first glimpse of softness beneath his cruel vitriol, until he continues: 

“Did you get lonely?”

The words hang in the air, searing and merciless. A barb meant to wound. And it does.

You flinch, and for a fleeting moment, Sylus feels a wicked satisfaction from the honest look of hurt on your face. To know that you’re not immune to the same ache that’s hollowed him out, emptied him from the inside, is intoxicating. 

But the triumph is short-lived, snuffed out as quickly as it comes.

Shame crashes over him like a wave, dragging him under the tide of his actions. What kind of man takes pleasure in this? In hurting you? 

The bitterness turns inward, coiling around his heart like a vice. His fingers twitch at his sides, aching to reach out. But as always, the damn screen is there—unyielding, impenetrable. A barrier he can never break. 

It frustrates him to no end; the bane of his very existence.

And then, in the smallest, softest voice, you say it.

“I missed you.”

The words are feeble, paper-thin, but the admission pierce through him all the same. The stoic facade cracks; the sharpness in his gaze dulls.

You see it—the way his lips part to respond, only to falter halfway. The way his brows pull together, the way his eyes fall shut as if he can’t stand to be in this situation with you. 

You’re afraid of what’ll come next. 

He sees it, too—the stiffness in your shoulders, the way you shrink into yourself, bracing for a blow that’ll never come. You’re standing there, like someone on death row, resigned to whatever punishment you think he’s about to dish out. Resigned to the contempt you believe yourself to be deserving of.

The sight guts him. 

Sylus loathes to think he’s the reason for this. For being the one who’s made you stand there, small and trembling, as though his words or actions could destroy you. 

As if he’d allow such a thing.  

The guilt rises in him, sharp and unbidden, and it leaves an acrid taste on his tongue.

… 

And just like that, he concedes. 

The anguish he’s carried in the days you’ve left him by his lonesome—all of it falls away. It only takes a single glance at you, his little love in pain, and he’s stripped bare. He almost laughs at the absurdity of it all; the ease with which he surrenders to you, this time no different than any other. 

Do you have any idea how much power you wield over him? He’d give you everything—his pride, his pain, his heart—if you asked. Serve it on a silver platter, even. 

And he’d do so willingly. Without question. Without hesitation. 

He wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Sylus steps closer to the screen, the constant reminder of the vast gulf that separates the two of you. “Talk, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice softer now—resigned. “I’ve missed your voice.”

You hesitate to meet his eyes. “It’s not as if you don’t have other ways to hear me.”

His mouth twitches, a shadow of a smile ghosting his lips. “True,” he admits, his tone wry and tinged with something vulnerable. “But it’s been so long since you chose to talk to me.” He exhales a drawn-out breath. “No matter. You’re here now.”

You swallow the lump on your throat, willing your tears at bay. “I am.” You give him an almost-genuine smile as you offer, “Would you like to do a round of Kitty Cards?” 

“Of course.” Whatever you want. 

And so it goes. You and Sylus spend the night locked in a familiar rhythm, cycling through rounds after rounds of the silly card game until your laughter spills like an addicting sound bite, one that Sylus has missed hearing.

When you got tired, the two of you moved on to the claw machines, proverbially emptying out the whole arcade. Plushies of all kinds piled in his arms, a little crow even perched on top of his head. 

The sight makes you giggle, and your giggle thaws the ice around his heart. 

It almost feels like nothing’s changed. The easy banter, the steady stream of jokes and teasing, flows as effortlessly as it once did. Like two puzzle pieces clicking into place, filling in the empty gaps of the previous days. It’s comforting, like a balm to an open wound. 

You play with a certain zeal that catches Sylus off guard—there’s a joy in you that both thrills and stirs an undercurrent of unease in him. 

After what feels like hours of playing, exhausting all what you can do, or at least, what this damned game could offer as much, you two find yourself just staring at each other. 

Two worlds, impossibly close yet painfully far. The quiet doesn’t quite settle as naturally as it once did, but neither of you seems to mind. Craved it, in fact. 

You’re beautiful, Sylus thinks as he stares at the soft planes of your face, drinking you in like a man parched. 

“My lo—” 

“I’m deleting the game, Sy.” 

And it’s as if time has staggered to a halt. 

Sylus wants to believe he’s misheard you, that his mind is playing tricks on him. He wouldn’t be surprised if his hearing’s not what it used to be.

But the words sink into him, inexorable and catastrophic. The realization that this was bound to happen is clear in hindsight—like watching a glass slip from your hand, the shatter already written in the fall. He sees it coming, yet it still feels worse than anything he’s imagined.

He stands there, unnaturally still, as if rooted in place. The lightness he’s felt for the past few hours of reuniting with you vanishes in an instant. It’s as if the world itself has been drained of color, leaving only the stark, unrelenting reality of what you’ve just said.

Then Sylus breathes out a laugh. It’s short and jagged, devoid of any humor. “Oh, so it’s been leading up to this, has it?” 

“I–” you swallow hard, bottom lip trembling. “I made the goddamn mistake of falling for someone that's impossible to have—and it’s killing me, Sylus.” Your voice fractures under the weight of frustration. The words feel like shards of glass tearing their way out of your throat. “I–I can’t do this anymore.”  

“Just you, then.” Sylus sneers, tone acerbic. “And have you stopped to consider my feelings in this matter?” 

“How can you still want this?” you bite back, voice cracking. “How can you want me—to bet on something that’s doomed right from the start?”

His expression shifts, and for a brief moment, pain flickers in his eyes, raw and unguarded. He doesn’t bother hiding it.

He doesn’t answer your question. Instead, when he speaks again, his words send an icy shiver down your spine.

“You delete the game, and I will cease to exist.”

You freeze. The weight of the statement hangs in the air like a guillotine. 

A shallow, shaky breath escapes you.

“You won’t,” you assert, brows furrowing, as if trying to convince yourself of it too. “You’ll still have a life there. With her. The way things have always been.” There’s a pause before you utter the final blow: “The way it should be.”

“You’d condemn me to this life,” he says, voice hollow, before it turns venomous. “Knowing what I know now?”

With your heart in your throat, you clench your hands into fist. “You–you said we’re just made of what we’re given, didn’t you? That each of us has our own set of scripts, just…” you falter, struggling to articulate what you want to say.

“And you think that’s all I am?” he interjects, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper as he cuts you off. “Simply a mere code in a complex string of binary, incapable of making my own choices? Undeserving of it?”

“Of course not!” you snap angrily. 

“Yet here you are,” he says, a quiet intensity lacing his words. “Making the decision for me.”

Your breath hitches, the will to argue dissipating like smoke. 

“You tell me I have a soul,” he states. “Do you truly believe I’m bereft of a heart?”

No. No, how can he say that—

Before you can form a response—to defend yourself, to explain, to take it back—he continues, leaving no room for interruption. 

“Is this what you really want?” Sylus intones, tone detached, as if he’s merely commenting on something as trite as the weather. “If you can look me in the eye and tell me yes, then I’ll do as you wish.”

Your gaze wavers. The war inside you rages—self-hate, doubt, and the unbearable ache of wanting what you can’t have spiraling out of control.

Your mind replays every moment, every laugh, every secret whispered in the quiet safety of his company. You think of how his presence filled the cracks in your life, how he soothed the ache of your solitude as easy as breathing.

And now as the void looms, ready to reclaim the space he’s occupied, something inside you feels irreparably fractured. Something inside you breaks. 

“But,” he whispers, his voice rough with the weight of his conviction, “give me any sign—anything—that you need me still, and I will move heaven and earth to find a way to you.”

Your throat constricts, choking off the words before it could escape. 

You don’t think you’ve ever hated yourself more than you do in that moment.

“Just live your life, Sy-Sy,” you manage, sounding so much like a stranger even to your own ears. The blood roars in your head, drowning out everything but the crushing weight of your words. “You don’t nee—”

“Don’t you dare say it,” he snarls, his voice shaking with unrestrained emotion. “Stop making assumptions. Stop presuming that I don’t need you as much as I need the very ground I stand upon.”

His eyes bore into yours. Heavy. Searching. “What do you want?”

The words strike you like a physical blow, and it leaves you reeling. 

I love you. 

I love you in ways that consume me. 

I don’t know what to do with it—with all the love I have for you.

You force yourself to speak. You spit the words out like a curse, feeling them burn as they leave your mouth.

“Let me go, Sylus.”

The implication of what you’ve said cuts through the fragile air between you. 

The silence stretches.

Suddenly—

“Let you go,” he muses, low and distant, as if the very thought confounds him. His lips twitch into a faint, almost bitter smile. “As if that’s even possible. As if I could simply erase you from me.”

He steps closer to you; each movement deliberate, as though every step bears the weight of a decision you’ve forced him to make. The lump in your throat swells. You don’t speak. You can’t.

You feel like you’re drowning.

“Sylus…”

Please, please don’t make me choose. Please make it stop.

He exhales slowly. “Neither of us wants that.” 

Stop.

“Do you think this is mercy?” His voice is soft. “You believe this will make it easier?”

Please stop. 

“This world hasn’t felt the same ever since. Not since you,” Sylus murmurs, grief hanging heavy in the space between you. “I don’t belong here. Not without you, my love.”

Tears pool in your eyes, hot and relentless, spilling down your cheeks. A sob rips through you, and you quickly look away, unable to meet his gaze. Unable to bear another second of this agony.

He tuts gently, a playful sound—and the familiarity of it kills you, making you cry harder. 

“Look at me,” he coaxes, almost pleading. 

When his gaze locks onto yours, you see that there’s no anger in them. The fire that once raged in his eyes is gone. 

In its place, a quiet resolve.

“You can keep pretending,” he says, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He tilts his head, and there’s something in the way he looks at you—so tenderly fond, as if he sees beyond your defenses, past all the walls you’ve built. “As long as you do not stop me from trying.” 

Sylus looks at you, unwavering, certain in a way that makes your heart ache. It almost feels like the space between you can’t contain the weight of his devotion. His love for you.

It feels infinite, as if it could stretch beyond the limits of time and space itself.

“I will find a way to you, even if it takes me an eternity.”

He utters it like a promise. 

“I won’t ask you to wait for me,” Sylus murmurs, stepping back, his tall form flickering like a dark phantasm. “I just need you to hold on until I can come to you. Can you do that, little dove?” 

He’s not asking for anything beyond your trust—just the simple act of holding on. Of not letting the weight of your sorrow break you. To trust that he will find a way, no matter how impossible it seems.

You don’t know if you’ve ever believed in anything as much as you believe in him. You always did. 

Because for all the uncertainty, you know one thing: He is yours, as much as you are his. 

So with all the strength you can muster, you nod. “I can.” 

A faint smile plays at the corners of his lips. Your gazes meet, and in that fleeting moment, both of your eyes speak what words fail to convey.

The game crashes for the last time. 

And you know that if you check, the app will be gone from your phone. There’s no going back from this, no undoing what’s lost. Just the burden of knowing it’s over—his exit, permanent. 

Sylus is gone.

The emptiness that follows is immediate. Suffocating. 

You’re left standing there, alone, with only the lingering echo of his presence keeping you buoyed from the crushing weight of isolation. You feel it—the ache in your chest where your heart used to be, brought by the absence of everything he ever was to you. 

Your lover, your best friend.

You try not to let yourself fall apart, not to crumble in the wake of solitude.

You’ll hold onto his promise. And so you’ll keep yours. 

End A/N: Well—that’s it, folks!

(I’m kidding, don’t kill me. There’s one last chapter left.)

Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @beomluvrr @milkandstarlight @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle @sapphic-daze @sarahthemage @cchiiwinkle @madam8 @slownoise @raendarkfaerie @sylusdarling @luminaaaz @greeenbeean @vvhira @issamomma @shroomiethefrogwhisperer @blueberrysquire @lovely-hani @fiyori @peachystea @aeanya @sylus-crow @queen-serena88 @xthefuckerysquaredx @rayvensblog @poptrim @goldenbirdiee @amerti @angstylittleb1tch @reiofsuns2001 @j4mergy

[persevereforahappyending]

No Man's Land |7|

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Sam can’t help but be drawn to the cute stranger from her gym, even if everything about them makes them the perfect suspect, just when Ghostface has returned.

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 3.2k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

It wasn’t that long of a drive from your place to Sam’s apartment, she was surprised how close you lived. It made sense though, she had never seen your Jeep at the gym, even in the middle of the night, she figured you jogged there every time, it seemed like a thing you would do. Their apartment didn’t have parking, but it seemed you got lucky enough to get a spot on the street, Sam would have felt bad if you had to park further away and then walk all the way back to the apartment.

She led you into the apartment complex and up to her apartment number, which was on the top floor, though you didn’t seem to mind the stairs. There was an elevator in the complex, but Sam didn’t trust it, she had the image of getting into the elevator and then Ghostface attacking, only for there to be nowhere for her to run to or a way to fight back. You didn’t even so much as raise an eyebrow as Sam began unlocking every lock she had on the door.

“Are you okay?” Tara asked as soon as Sam walked through the door.

“Yeah,” Sam answered, giving her sister a small smile so she knew everything was truly okay.

“Great,” Kirby said, pushing herself off the chair in the living room. “I need to get back to my case anyway.”

“You stayed?” Sam tilted her head. She had expected Kirby to drop Tara off, maybe walk her up to the apartment but she definitely didn’t expect Kirby to still be there when Sam got home.

Kirby gave a little shrug and looked back at Tara who was sitting on the couch next to the others, except for Quinn, who Sam assumed was either out or in her room with a guy. “Figured you wouldn’t mind,” Kirby smiled. “Didn’t feel right just leaving them alone.”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, I’ll keep you updated.” Sam nodded and followed Kirby to the door to see her out. When they got to the door Kirby turned around, looking past Sam and at you. You were standing a bit away, far enough to give Sam and Kirby privacy but not so far into the living room that you were invading the unknown space. “Are you sure you trust them enough to be here?” Kirby whispered.

Sam looked back at you, seeing you with your hands shoved in your pockets and despite everything that’s happened, you were still completely relaxed. “I’m not sure why, but I do,” Sam whispered. “Was there anything in their file that would indicate otherwise?” Sam searched Kirby’s face for any sign that you might not be as great as you seemed. She didn’t like asking Kirby about you, it didn’t feel right, like that she should hear about your past from you and not someone else, it almost felt like she was crossing a line.

Kirby sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Sam furrowed her brow and glanced back at you. It wasn’t a bad reaction, if there was a glaring red flag Kirby wouldn’t have even let Sam leave the station with you, not without warning her first, but it also wasn’t exactly a good reaction either.

“They’re special forces,” Kirby whispered. Sam nodded; you had told her that much. “Pretty much anything they’ve ever done is classified and way above my paygrade. From what I could make out,” she looked past Sam again. “They’re an exemplary soldier.”

“Then what has you hesitating?” Sam narrowed her eyes; she knew Kirby was holding something back.

“This is Ghostface, no one can be trusted.”

“Kirby,” Sam pleaded. Kirby’s excuse wasn’t wrong, it was completely true. The only people Sam knew she could trust a hundred percent was her sister, Chad, Mindy, Kirby, and as much as she hated it at times, Gale.

“I don’t know why they’re in town,” Kirby finally caved. “Their base is in North Caroline.” Sam furrowed her brow at that. “They do have a house here, have for years.” Sam nodded; she had seen that for herself. “The army doesn’t just let someone go off that far away from base, not when they’re active duty, they’re meant to be training or nearby in case a mission comes up.” Sam glanced back at you again to make sure you weren’t listening. “They’ve been here for a few months now, that’s not normal. So, something had to have happened.”

“Any ideas?” Kirby shrugged. “Right, classified.”

“Look, I want to trust them,” she gave Sam a sympathetic smile. “Them saving your life definitely adds points in my book.” Sam smiled at that; in the back of her mind, she knew that still could have all been a ploy though. “Just be careful.”

Sam nodded and said her final goodbyes to Kirby. Once Kirby was out the door, she quickly closed it and re-locked all the locks again before turning back around to you and the others. Despite the initial meeting in the hospital, she had a feeling this would be a long night. Tara was the only one who knew Sam asked you to come back to the apartment, she figured Tara would inform the others when she got home but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t still be caught off guard by your presence.

“So, we’re just inviting random people over when Ghostface is clearly out there?” Mindy asked.

Sam rolled her eyes. “Anika and Ethan are literally right there,” Sam said, gesturing at the two.

Anika didn’t seem too offended by the comment, but she did pout a little. Ethan looked around as if he were shocked by the accusation, despite knowing he was a suspect.

“And they’re not a stranger,” Chad said. He jumped up from the couch and practically ran towards you. “I’m so glad you decided to join us,” he gave you a big smile. “It’ll give us time to get to know each other better.” Sam flung her head back and closed her eyes as she tried to suppress a groan.

“How exciting,” you said, though Chad seemed to miss the sarcasm based on the way he was smiling and nodding along.

“I think it’s only fair,” Mindy said. She detangled herself from Anika and walked up to you, crossing her arms as she raised an eyebrow. “We deserve to know who you are if you’re going to be staying with us.”

“Is this how you treat all your guests?” You asked, looking at Sam and completely ignoring Mindy.

Sam put a hand to her head and tried to rub away the oncoming headache. “I’m sorry,” is the only thing she could think to say. You probably would be better off on your own, Sam knew that, if Ghostface had tried to attack you at your house if your dog didn’t scare them away you certainly would have.

“They’re a suspect,” Mindy continued, pointing at you. “We deserve to know who’s going to be sleeping in the next room.”

 “You probably think having everyone stick together, even if they’re a suspect,” you said before Sam could think of a way to get them to ease up on you. “Is the smart move, if everyone is together and one of the parties is the killer, then they’re less likely to make a move.”

“Yeah, what of it?” Mindy crossed her arms and straightened her back just a bit more. Mindy talked big with this kind of stuff, Sam couldn’t deny that Mindy knew her stuff when it came to horror and when it came to the Stab movies and the real life Ghostface killings. That didn’t stop the fact that Mindy was terrified, and she was trying harder than Sam had ever seen to put on this cool and confident front.

 “It’s a mistake,” you said plainly. You were blunt but it didn’t seem like you were judging them on their decision.

“You don’t think keeping the enemy close is a good idea?” Tara asked, getting up from the couch and joining the others around you.

“Not when you don’t know the enemy.” Sam flicked at glance at Tara to see her and Mindy already looking at her, as if they expected her to jump in. Sam just tilted her head and looked back at you, curious as to what you were seeing that they weren’t. “You think watching everyone means you’re watching the enemy. When really, it’s the exact opposite. Keeping the enemy close just means they know all your plans and where you are at all times.”

Sam sucked in a breath, that’s exactly what happened last time. They didn’t know who to trust, even after Dewey told them it’s always someone in the friend group. Everyone still hung out together, they all went to a party at Amber’s house. Sam still trusted Richie until the end, the first time she truly hesitated had been when she was in the basement and left him. Amber and Richie worked together, when one was pretending to be a victim the other was doing the killing. Seeing one of them in the same room as Ghostface made them all lower their guards around them, made them trust and reveal things to them.

“Kirby said you were a sergeant,” Tara said. Chad and Mindy both raised their eyebrows at that, it seemed Tara hadn’t revealed everything they learned at the station. “Who are you with?” It seemed she had picked up on the exact same thing Sam did.

“Army, special forces,” you answered, exactly as you told Sam.

“What kind?”

Sam raised her eyebrows, she didn’t think to ask that, she didn’t even know there were different kinds, she kind of figured a sergeant was a sergeant. She looked at you only to see you smirking, it seemed Tara asked the right question. “A weapons Sergeant.”

“So that means you know how to use weapons,” Mindy interrupted.

“It is in my title,” your voice dripped with sarcasm.

“So, you’d know how to use a,” Mindy bobbed her head around as she pretended to search for a weapon to ask about, “knife?”

“It is probably the most basic and common weapon there is, so yes, I’d say so.”

“Why don’t we make this interrogation a little more family friendly,” Chad said, slapping you on the shoulders in a friendly gesture before putting arm around you as if you were one of his buddies. Chad was smiling as he raised an eyebrow at Mindy who just rolled her eyes. When Chad looked back at you, he was met with your glare, making his smile instantly fall as he slowly removed his hand from your shoulder. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Sam couldn’t help but smile as Chad gestured awkwardly at the dining table around the corner. He pulled out a seat for you and then moved to one on the other side of the table at the complete opposite side of you. Sam shook her head and joined as Mindy took a seat next to Chad and Tara grabbed the seat at the end of the table, leaving the only seat left next to you for Sam.

“I apologize for my sister,” Chad started again, this time much more calm than he had been any other time he talked to you or about you. “When did you join the army?”

“When I was eighteen,” you answered.

“Have you ever killed anyone?” Mindy asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Hey,” Sam snapped. “You don’t ask someone that.” Sam knew she was being a total hypocrite, but you didn’t point out she had asked you the exact same thing just a little bit ago.

“You will never believe the night I had,” Quinn yelled as she entered the apartment, locking the various locks before stepping into view. “This guy…” Sam looked over when Quinn never finished, she saw Quinn standing just a few feet away, her arms still raised as they usually were when she was about to go into extensive detail about a particular hookup, but her eyes were locked on you.

“Well, now, who is this cutey?” Quinn said, smiling as she walked right up to you. You didn’t turn to face her until Quinn gently ran a finger up and down your bicep.

“This is Y/N,” Chad introduced you. “They-”

“Saved Sam’s life,” Quinn completed. “How dare Sam keep something like you a secret from me.” Quinn tilted her head; she was giving you her best flirtatious smile. Sam was trying to make her glaring at Quinn not too obvious. “Now, tell me,” Quinn stared right into your eyes. Sam couldn’t tell if you were falling for Quinn’s attempts or not, she was finding your composure and lack of reaction to things very irritating at the moment. “Is there a special lady in your life?”

You looked down and smiled, more to yourself than anyone else. Sam shook her head, hoping she hid the hurt on her face before anyone saw, it was clear you were thinking about a special someone. “You could say that,” you said. “Saved me more times than I can count. Can’t imagine life without her.”

Quinn pouted but took her hand off of you. “She sounds amazing,” Sam said, giving a tight-lipped smile.

“She is.” You turned to Sam and smiled at her. “You should know,” you nodded at Sam. “You met her.”

Sam furrowed her brow before rolling her eyes. “Your dog, really?” she chuckled. “That’s the special lady in your life?”

“Most important girl in my life.” Sam just rolled her eyes again, she shyly smiled to herself. She never thought she’d be thankful for Quinn’s relentless flirting.

“You have a dog?” Tara asked, her eyes lighting up. Tara had always wanted a dog when they were growing up but even before their dad left their parents never let them get one.

You nodded. “Her name is Artemis and she’s my battle buddy.”

“She’s a military dog?” Tara leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table as she got more invested in hearing about your dog. You nodded once again.

“That’s so cool,” Chad said. “She goes on missions and stuff with you? Finding bombs, taking out bad guys,” he did some fighting motions with his fists.

“She did,” you explained. “She’s retired now but she still can give a good scare.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Sam scoffed.

“Well, I’m off to bed,” Quinn said. “Unless the soldier here wants to join?” she looked you up and down, making Sam glare at her again.

“No thank you,” you said.

“Can’t blame me for trying,” she shrugged. She winced when she turned around to head towards her room.

“Are you okay?” Sam called out, furrowing her brow.

“Yeah,” her voice went slightly higher. She turned around and smirked, “I started to tell you, it was a crazy night.” Sam let out a hum and turned back to the others.

Sam glanced at you only to see you watching Quinn walk away. It didn’t seem like you were regretting not taking Quinn up on her offer, more like you were studying her. When she heard Quinn’s door close, you looked back at Sam, and she couldn’t help but send you a questioning glance. You just gave a subtle shake of your head as if to tell her not here, which only perplexed Sam more.

“Okay, I think it’s time we call it a night,” Sam said.

Tara went off to her room with Mindy and Anika following her. Everyone was staying the night, and the girls tended to share Tara’s room while Chad always took the couch. Sam frowned, with you she’d have to figure something out, she didn’t want to ask you to stay with them and then force you to sleep on the floor.

“You’re not staying?” Chad asked, making Sam turn around to see Ethan gathering up his backpack.

“I-I have an early class,” Ethan replied, giving them an awkward smile.

Ethan’s looked around the room, but his eyes kept darting back to you. Sam glanced over to see you watching him with narrow eyes, your eyes didn’t leave him until he was out the door. Sam wasn’t sure if you were seeing something she wasn’t or if you were just even more paranoid than she was.

“I’ll take the floor,” Chad said, getting up from the table.

“No, no,” you said, shaking your head. “Take the couch.” Chad opened his mouth, clearly ready to object but you beat him to it. “I’m serious.” Chad sighed and got comfortable on the couch, pulling the blanket they had draped over the back down on top of himself.

“You can take my bed,” Sam said. “I’ll take the floor.”

“No,” you waved her off. “It’s fine.”

“Please, I’ve already inconvenienced you enough.”

“Seriously, it’s fine,” you stood up from the table. “Besides, the floor’s more comfortable anyway.” Sam searched your face for any evidence of a lie, but it didn’t appear you were.

“Fine,” Sam reluctantly agreed. “But let me help change your bandage first.”

You sighed but sat back down at the table. Sam smiled and ran off to grab some clean bandages. When she came back, she took a seat next to you and you lifted your shirt to reveal your wound. As gently as she could she peeled off the dirty bandage, she could feel your breath hitch as her fingers brushed against your skin.

“I’m sorry about my friends,” Sam whispered again. “Thank you for putting up with them.” Sam placed the clean bandage over your stitches and lightly pressed the edges to make sure it would stick.

“It’s not problem,” you whispered back, pulling down your shirt when Sam was all finished up. “If I may ask, why do you want me here?”

Sam made a fist, bunching up her jeans in the process. She looked up to see your eyes already on her. “You protected me, when you didn’t even know me,” Sam shrugged, letting out a humorless chuckle. “I just-I can’t explain it,” she looked down at her hand again and slowly unclenched them. “I think we’re safer with you around.”

When Sam looked up again, she was suddenly aware of how close she was to you. “No harm will come to you or your sister while I’m here,” you rasped out.

Sam wasn’t sure if it was you leaning in, or herself, or the both of you, all she knew was that you were getting closer. Her lips had just brushed yours; she wanted to close the gap and pull you in for a real kiss, but a loud snore broke the moment. You both quickly pulled away and glanced across the room where Chad was already passed out on the couch.

“I-I’m sorry,” Sam rambled, shooting out of her seat, trying to create as much distance between you and her as possible. “I can’t,” she shook her head, but man did she really want to. “I’m sorry.”

Sam stopped when she felt you gently grab her hand. “Hey,” you whispered softly. “It’s okay,” you smiled. “Good night.”

“Night.” It took all her strength, but Sam pulled her hand away from yours and went to her room. She leaned back against the door as soon as she shut it, she couldn’t believe she had just kissed you, it was barely a kiss, but she wanted nothing more than to do it again. She knew she couldn’t though, not until this whole thing was over, there was a part of her that was still doubting whether they could trust you, she was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, there was no way she would get this lucky finding someone so perfect and understanding.

Taglist: @thatshyboy1998 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @acutenobody @godamnityess

[heylittleriotact]

This went about as sideways as I expected, as quickly as I expected.

Not me and my rl DnD crew (aaaand dearest pals 🥰) starting a multiplayer campaign in bg3 in which the three of us are all martial class gnomes. Oh god. This is going to go in… directions. I can tell.

What poor origin character is going to be dragged along with us? 🤔

[dekariosclan]

The new BG3 Evil Endings are out, and Larian does an incredible job hammering home this character is evil now and the world is dark, but I would have loved a single lighthearted option. A ‘goofy evil’ option, for those of us who would love to see our favorite characters get some sweet revenge, but don’t want them to become homicidal maniacs.

There’s 5 variations you can choose for origin characters after they take control of the brain—what if just 1 of them resulted in a little less heartache and a lot more humor? You pick this option and suddenly it’s not death & mind control & terror. Instead:

Astarion becomes a sleazy Saul Goodman-esque lawyer, sues the entire Szarr estate using very questionable means, and rides around Faerun in the carriage equivalent of a gaudy Cadillac

Karlach takes over Avernus, makes it into a combo Build-A-Bear / Disney Themepark and forces Zariel and all the denizens of the hells to work there

Gale overthrows the Gods, turns them into mortals and tells them they’ll have to do 1000 years of community service on Toril before he’ll consider reinstating their powers. Mystra tries to refuse, and Gale replies, “I do think you’ll reconsider…” then steps aside to reveal Tara wielding a crossbow

You get the idea

[dinrelsanddragons]

so for this post from ovegakart i'm imagining spell rules going along these lines...

Nayru's Shield: Level 3 Abjuration Casting Time: 1 Action Range: Self Components: V, S, M (A blessing from a Great Fairy worth 1000 rupees) Duration: Concentration, up to 1 minute The love and protection of the goddess Nayru shields you. You gain resistance to all damage for the duration. Additionally, this spell also summons a magic shield into your hand, granting the benefits of wielding a shield even if you are not proficient with shields. If you do not have a free hand, the shield does not appear, and this benefit is not granted. Finally, this spell also generates an emanation of protection around you, granting a +1 bonus to AC for any ally inside it, you excepted.

Nayru's Mirror: Level 3 Abjuration Casting Time: 1 Action Range: Self Components: V, S, M (A blessing from a Great Fairy worth 1000 rupees) Duration: Concentration, up to 1 minute The love and protection of the goddess Nayru reflects damage directed at you. You gain resistance to all damage for the duration. Additionally, creatures of your choice within 5 feet of you must make a Dexterity saving throw, taking 2d6 force damage on a failed save or half as much damage on a successful save, as shards of Nayru's protection strike them. Finally, ranged weapon attacks and ranged spell attacks that hit you are reflected off of you after dealing their damage, striking the original attacker for half their damage.

Notes: I split Nayru's Love into two spells, for Link and for Zelda. For Link: I figure this should be a hefty spell given the immense benefits it offers, but still accessible to an Eldritch Knight like Link. So I made it level 3. I'm also not sure about the concentration on it, since you can get smacked but it doesn't drop, I just wanted to make it slightly less busted by making it eat the caster's Concentration. For Zelda: More offensive, I originally thought like Armor of Agathys but re-read the handwriting and realized lol nope. So I made it so enemies who attack and hit you take the half damage that the shield stops you from eating.

Farore's Wind: Level 3 Conjuration Casting Time: 1 Action Range: Self Components: V, S, M (A blessing from a Great Fairy worth 100 rupees) Duration: Instantaneous Briefly surrounded by the divine gales of the goddess Farore, you teleport to a location within sight. Using a Higher-Level Spell Slot: You can teleport to any location you know within 1000 feet (4th level spell slot), any location you know within 5 miles (5th level spell slot), any location you know within 100 miles (6th level spell slot), or to any location you know on this plane of existence (7th level spell slot). If you cast this spell at 5th level or higher, there is a cumulative 15% chance for each level above 4th it is cast at (up to 45% with a 7th level spell slot) for a mishap to occur, sending you to a false destination. Holding or carrying an object linked to the intended destination removes this chance.

Notes: I figure the inspiration spells for this should be Misty Step (but range increased to 'anywhere within sight'), Dimension Door (range increased), and Teleport. It's a sort of catch-all spell. The only issue is that, in order to make it NOT BUSTED AS FUCK (which is already is tbh), I had to level-scale it, which seriously kneecaps Link as an Eldritch Knight. I also had to add in that a mishap can occur because even Teleport isn't perfect.

Din's Fire Level 3 Evocation Casting Time: 1 Action Range: Self Components: V, S, M (A blessing from a Great Fairy worth 300 rupees) Duration: Instantaneous An explosion of Din's holy flames blasts from you in a 20-foot emanation. Each creature in this emanation makes a Dexterity saving throw, taking 8d6 fire damage on a failed save or half as much damage on a successful one. Flammable objects in the area that aren't being worn or carried start burning. Using a Higher-Level Spell Slot: The damage increases by 1d6 for each slot level above 3.

Notes: It's Fireball as an emanation, why not.

Zelda's Light Level 3 Transmutation Casting Time: 1 Bonus Action Range: Touch Components: V, S Duration: 1 hour You touch a nonmagical weapon. Until the spell ends, that weapon becomes a magic weapon with a +1 bonus to attack and damage rolls. Additionally, when a creature hits another creature with that weapon, a bright flash of light accompanies the strike. The target must make a Constitution saving throw (using the caster's spell save DC) or be blinded until the end of its next turn. This spell ends early if you cast it again. Using a Higher-Level Spell Slot. The bonus increases to +2, and the weapon deals an additional 3d6 radiant damage with a 4-6 level spell slot. The bonus increases to +3, and the weapon deals an additional 6d6 (instead of 3d6) radiant damage with a 7+ level spell slot.

Notes: It's magic weapon but added blinding and radiant.

Lens of Truth Wondrous Item, Very Rare (requires attunement) While wearing this lens over your eyes, you have Truesight with a range of 120 feet.

Notes: Should this be legendary? True Seeing is a 6th level divination spell, so maybe! I made it attunement so you can't just pass it between people for a free action or whatever and you need to know it well to use it.

BONUS POINTS (or rather, an edit)

Ocarina of Time Wondrous Item, Artifact This ocarina has been protected by the royal family of Hyrule for ages, and is said to have a powerful connection to the unnamed goddess of time. You can take a Magic action to play a song on the Ocarina of Time, with each song producing a different effect or casting a spell. You must know a song in order to play it.

Zelda's Lullaby – When you play this song, this Ocarina opens a magical lock, or has other magical effects based on other locations which specify this song. This song has no effect on nonmagical locks. Epona's Song – When you play this song, you can cast the spell Find Steed at its base level of 2. Saria's Song – When you play this song, you can cast the spell Sending. The only possible recipient of the spell when cast in this way is the Fey known as Saria. Sun's Song – When you play this song, you can cause day to become night or night to become day, depending on what time it is when you play it. The passage of this time is instantaneous to the Ocarina's player, and does not confer the benefits of a long or short rest, nor does it impose the penalties of forgoing a long rest. Song of Time – When you play this song, you can open the Door of Time or cause obstacles bearing the symbol of the goddess of time to permanently disappear. If this song is played in the realm of Termina, it has an entirely different effect: You can go back in time to a maximum of three days, although in doing so you must forfeit all ammunition (nonmagical and magical) and rupees to go back. Upon returning to the past, all magic item charges are restored, and you gain the benefits of a Long Rest. You cannot use the Song of Time again for another three days. Song of Storms – When you play this song, you can cause the weather around you to suddenly and inexplicably become intensely stormy and rainy, complete with thunder and lightning. This storm lasts for ten minutes, after which time it vanishes. Effects of the storm remain. Warp Songs – When you play any of these songs, you can cast the spell Teleportation Circle, with each song being linked to a specific circle and sending those who stand in the circle's area there: the Minuet of the Forest will send to Kokiri Forest; the Bolero of Fire will send to Death Mountain's crater; the Serenade of Water will send to Lake Hylia; the Nocturne of Shadow will send to the graveyard of Kakariko Village; the Requiem of Spirit will send to the Desert Colossus in the Gerudo Desert; and the Prelude of Light will send to the Temple of Time in Hyrule Castle Town. Scarecrow's Song – When you play this song, you magically summon a wooden scarecrow to a location you can see within 60 feet of you. The Scarecrow is a Construct with 10 HP, AC 10, a movement speed of 0 ft., and immunity to psychic and poison damage. It vanishes when you play this song again. Inverted Song of Time – When you play this song, you can cast the spell Haste on yourself. Song of Double Time – When you play this song, you can magically cause twelve hours of time to pass by. The passage of this time is instantaneous to the Ocarina's player, and does not confer the benefits of a long or short rest, nor does it impose the penalties of forgoing a long rest. Song of Healing – When you play this song, you can cast the spell Calm Emotions, with the added ability to affect any creature capable of having emotions as opposed to solely humanoids. Song of Soaring – When you play this song, you can cast the spell Dimension Door. Elegy of Emptiness – When you play this song, you can create a lifeless statue of yourself. This statue is an eerie reflection of you and weighs the same as you do. It is a Construct that has an amount of Hit Points equal to half your maximum Hit Points, your Armor Class, and it has immunity to psychic and poison damage. It is also incapable of moving on its own.

Notes: No Sonata of Awakening, Goron Lullaby, New Wave Bossa Nova, or Oath to Order because they have extremely specific purposes.

[meanbossart]

Because I love the idea of DU drow as a companion... how would you recruit him? Where do you find him, and what's his intro cutscene?

Hi, I've been thinking about this since I got this message :V

There's this nautiloid pod somewhere nearby the Owlbear cave right? So those things were just crashing all over the place, not just near the beach where the actual ship fell. I believe his pod could have had a similar fate and fallen somewhere off the beaten path.

Mind you that, In this scenario, waking up from the pod and onto the forest map would have been DU Drow's first-ever conscious minutes ever since having his mind wiped, so he truly has no fucking idea of what just happened - he just knows his head is in shambles and that he needs to survive for long enough for his memories to return, assuming they ever will. So, his immediate instinct would be to retreat away from where the people are.

I think underneath the bridge, where there's running water and some fauna/flora would be a good spot to find him. Players might take a day or two until they stumble across this weirdo companion and so they are more in the loop than he would be. You'd find a little blood-trail leading you down there, and eventually spot a fist's corpse with no shoes near the river - DU drow would be crouched down by the water washing blood off himself:

While the rest of the party may have been picked off random places as they went about their days, this guy was busy being dissected and put back together over and over again - and there's no way Kressa bothered to dress him back up fully before he was taken away from her (me allowing the man to have pants on at all is a mercy onto you all) so he begins with no armor, but to make up for that fact he's the only companion who begins with a great-sword, which he would have stolen from the fist.

When you approach he is perfectly calm, In fact, he doesn't seem all that there. He stands up and appears half-ready for a fight, but lets you speak first. You can either ask what he's doing here, or about the corpse. You get more or less the same answer to both:

If you successfully persuade him, he tells you with no particular tone of shame or remorse that you got him, he did kill him, however he claims he was attacked first. Whether you pry into his mind with the worm, or have a scroll of read-thoughts, you get the same narration:

"Behind the aloof facade, you find the drow's mind to be in a concerning state of disarray: dozens of thoughts racing, jumbled, all at once, each trailing into the next before you can catch a hint of substance. You don't find the answers you were looking for, just red goo."

You CAN however use speak to the dead on the corpse. If you do that, it's revealed that he is actually telling the truth; The fist found him and assumed him to be with the drow who raided Wakeen's rest. Otherwise, you have to either take his word for it, attack him, or leave him.

He will refuse your offers to join you/go to your camp until you reveal to him that you have been tadpoled - either through using the Illithid-worm option, or telling him upfront through normal dialogue. If you didn't peer into his head earlier, you will now, confirming to yourself and him that he's also been infected. Then, you can tell him you're looking for a cure, and he will agree to travel along. This gets you approval from Shadowheart, Karlach, and Astarion, and disapproval from Lae'zel, Wyll, and Gale.

If you attack, he's as easy a fight as any companion would be at that point. If you choose to leave him be/not tell him about your worm so he refuses to join, he will appear at your camp after two long rests, basically forcing himself to into your party unless you kill him. You find him hanging out around Withers and he tells you he's decided to travel with you from now on, and that he will make himself comfortable.

If you ask for his name, he tells you to just call him whatever you want to (cue like 5 joke dialogue answers - he responds to all of them with a snort and you get approval if you pick any flattering ones). Whatever you ask about him gets you a very blunt, vague response. If you have Shadowheart in your party/are playing as her, she implies he may be suffering from memory loss, finally prompting him to admit to it. Otherwise he only reveals this after a couple more long-rests.

[dailyrothko]

News!

From the Rothko Chapel

We are pleased to announce that the Rothko Chapel, which has been closed since hurricane Beryl hit Houston last July, will reopen to the public on December 17. The Chapel will be open during the following holiday hours: 10 a.m. to 5 p.m.

Tuesday through Sunday, December 17-22, and from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. December 24-January 5 (except on December 25 and January 1, when hours will be 12 p.m. to 5 p.m.).

Hurricane Beryl brought exceptionally heavy rain and gale-force winds that resulted in leakage through the Chapel's roof. Part of the ceiling and several walls sustained water damage, and four of Mark Rothko's panels were also affected to varying degrees.

Immediately after the storm, the Chapel engaged Whitten & Proctor Fine Art Conservation, one of the country's premier art-conservation firms, to lead the conservation analysis and assessment. The affected panels are now undergoing careful restoration at an off-site facility and will be returned to the Chapel once the work is complete, with additional information on them forthcoming. The water-streaked walls and ceiling have also been repaired and repainted.

"Since the storm, our focus has been on the complete repair of the building, the restoration of the damaged panels, and on the reopening of the building so the public once again has access to this beloved space for contemplation and meditation; said Executive Director David Leslie. "Getting to this point has been a true community effort involving an amazing team of art conservators, scientists, art handlers, volunteers, community partners, and Chapel staff, and we are very excited to reopen in time for the holidays.

The Chapel resumed its program season this fall at off-site locations and will host its first program in the Chapel - its annual MLK Observance, "Sick of War: Discussing Health Impacts of US Militarism" - on January 15, 2025. The Suzanne Deal Booth Welcome House, located at 1410 Sul Ross Street, remains open from 11 a.m. to 5 p.m. Tuesday through Sunday to provide information and hospitality to those who visit.