#I’ve never played a rogue like before! this is very fun

[gothighunicorntolerance]

Just started playing Hades and I really enjoy it so far all these character designed are so cool

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for putting a hit out on an ex friend’s dnd character?

A few years ago I [M 18] was the link between two different online friend circles along with my longtime friend A [M 22]. Essentially, both A and I ran two different dnd campaigns that acted as a melting pot between our two friend groups. It was really fun, super casual stuff. Enter C [M 19], who was originally one of my friends and played in both groups. Over time it became clear that C was, to put it lightly, not a great person. At the time, I was a really new DM and struggled a lot with my self confidence. C was a super disruptive player in my group, going off the rails and generally trying to undermine both me and other players. I tried to sort it out between sessions, but it didn’t end up working out. It came to a head where I ended up shutting down my campaign, claiming school got to be too much, but in reality I just couldn’t deal with C’s behaviour. It was a really big blow to my self confidence at the time.

At this point a lot of people had been cutting out C for various other things like this - generally being disrespectful and callous, not taking responsibility for harm he caused, etc. Pretty soon the only times I was interacting with C directly was during A’s campaign.

A, who wasn’t 100% aware of the situation, came and talked to me after a session one day about why I’d shut down my campaign, and I told him everything about how I was feeling. He was really understanding, and said that he got the feeling that I probably didn’t want C around anymore, and neither did he. I agreed, so A offered to ‘sort out some stuff with C’s character’ and shuffle him out of the group. I made a joke about wanting C’s character to die, in a pretty flippant way, and the conversation diverted.

This is where things get kind of weird.

So, at the time, I was expecting A to just talk with C and kick him out of the group in between sessions, but that didn’t end up happening. C was at the next session just as planned, and continued to show up for several weeks. During this time A, and I really don’t know how else to describe this, pulled some Machiavellian scheme on C’s character as the DM to ruin his life. A wove in this story where C’s character got this evil mask shard of a dead god, and played on C’s want to sabotage other players & go his own way in a very ‘lone rogue’ way to isolate him from the group and get him involved in all these evil deeds (killing minor npcs, etc). None of our characters knew about this in character, but A dropped all these hints and the context lined up to make it seem like C’s character was slowly going insane. C, unable to communicate in or out of character, backed up this idea by refusing to talk about the god IC or OOC. Eventually this god fragment lead to the death of C’s character when an overpowered assassin struck him down, in a fight that felt very ‘well this could’ve been a party boss but because you didn’t tell anyone, you died’. Immediately following this the party found out about C’s character’s evil deeds, meaning he wouldn’t be mourned by the party. The whole death felt so… hollow. It really felt like C had ended up in this situation because of their own hubris. But they hadn’t.

A had masterminded the whole thing. He’d given me live updates about his plan to essentially manufacture a situation where C’s character died a miserable death that felt totally deserved in the eyes of the other party members. And then we all just blocked C anyway???

I’ve never seen someone manipulate somebody like that in my life before and I’ve never seen anything like it again. I’ve never told anyone else in the group that the death was masterminded by A because of my petty grudge about my failed campaign. I don’t speak to either A or C now but I still feel bad about not doing something. Should I have just told A to kick C way before this?? I had no clue it would spiral into actual months of chess mastering his demise!!

What are these acronyms?

[ghost-bxrd]

Hi!

Kinda on a 'Jason's Red Hood Return Goes Hilariously Off The Rails' phase.

Read practically everything on AO3 with the trope, now writing my own.

Got two ideas.

Dick gets de-aged to 8 year old feral Robin and is in the Tower instead of Tim, Jason's Titans Tower attack goes waaaaay off what he planned.

Jason commenting on Tim's Batman fanfic, and the resulting comment war (with other Gothamites chiming in) leads to Jason hashing out most of his issues, derailing the whole Red Hood Revenge Run.

What do you think would be other hilarious/cracky/awesome ways for Jason's Red Hood return to go off the rails and have him come back home?

P.S. I'm going with Fanon Good(ish) Dad Bruce, not the Canon version.

First of all I love the second idea! I’ve never read anything like it before ✨

Honestly there are so many ways you can have Jason’s plans go off track somewhere along the way. Personally I’m a fan of having him run into one of the family while he’s grocery shopping or something in civilian gear, and obviously they recognize him. So now Jason has the option of either running and letting them assume stuff on their own, or he can come up with a harebrained excuse (amnesia, clone, etc). ((I also love the trope of Bruce not even checking if it’s really Jason. If this is a clone, he doesn’t want to know. Nobody’s taking Jason from him ever again)).

Another fun way would be for him to have that really hardcore “I want my dad” moment. Could be he’s sick, or concussed, or just otherwise really out of it. And he calls either Dick or Bruce on autopilot because— “I want to go home. Please. I just want to go home.” And whoever is on the other side of the call has several heart attacks while also trying to keep Jason talking, trying to track the location. Because— it could be a hallucination, a trick, anything, but— but what if it isn’t—…

Or, good old “one of the Bats is held hostage by a rogue” but it’s totally a planned thing. And obviously Jason doesn’t know about it so he drops in, pissed as all hell but not willing to let any of them die, and freeing them. Which is… very much not what that Bat had planned, but for whatever reason the murderous crime lord is now fussing over them? Better play along and keep pretending to be drugged…

Those are some things that came to mind :)

[localvoid-golem]

Caves of Qud is beta-ing their Tutorial mode!

Caves of Qud is a procedurally generated open world RPG in the vein of the original game “Rogue” that Roguelikes/Rogue-lites now claim lineage to. You are a single little guy where every step you take is a turn, which everything else also moves in.

I do very much love Caves of Qud. It’s incredibly cool in how it manages a massive generated open world full of strange oddities and wonderful beings.

It also is, like, literally the only game I know where I can deliberately create an almost identical replica of my avatar as a player character with a little mutation luck, so I may be biased.

If you feel like you’ve never been able to get into Dwarf Fortress because all the fiddly civ management tasks make it so you can’t just focus on one lil character, it’s almost certainly also going to appeal. I dunno, is this a good sales pitch? It’s a good game, I’m looking forward to exploring the tutorial to see what I’ve missed in my casual playing.

Because the game is a little arcane and intimidating off the bat, I definitely recommend trying it out, and the tutorial with it if you are interested! And it’s okay if you die! They’ve added a checkpoint system and frankly, dying and trying a new character can be a good portion of the fun!

[atopvisenyashill]

Why do you think Jaehaerys sexually assaulted his own daughter?( I'm genuinely curious)

I have two dedicated tags to this if you want to dig in a bit more - "gael and the bard" and the newly added "jaehaerys the cruel" tags, with this meta here being the kind of jumping off point into that whole theory/analysis. gael and the bard is more focused on gael targaryen herself and the mystery surrounding her pregnancy and suicide; there's a lot of bael the bard imagery surrounding her, being called the winter princess, gael being one letter off from bael, the father of her baby noted to have been a singer, and her status as like, an eternal maiden because of her relationship with alysanne. the jaehaerys the cruel moniker is just a reference to maegor the cruel - i think the play between maegor being outwardly monstrous and jaehaerys being privately monstrous is very interesting! but also it's not like a fun tag name lol so i might change it, haven't decided yet!

but i guess to break down my thought process here - i have never liked that man lmaoooo, i am an og jaehaerys hater. my lil journey here is, i read this series in high school, roughly around the winter of 2012, but i didn't read twoiaf when it came out in 2014, i read that just before i started this blog, so like....idk 2 years ago, roughly, but i was Aware Of Its Existence (they didn't have it at school, the library was kind of far, and it felt like a stupidly expensive book to ask for at the time). i had kinda skimmed over the short stories the princess & the queen and the rogue prince (don't ask me when they came out, icr), and had read all the twow preview chapters so it wasn't like i wasn't up on all the asoiaf world stuff, i just hadn't been able to get my hands on twoiaf, which I do think impacted my view of jaehaerys because the thing is...i just didn't understand the jaehaerys appeal. i won't get into the wanky aspects of fandom (i mean i will if someone asks but idk if you care lol), but i would say in the like 2010-2014 era the fandom was p staunchly and loudly pro targaryen, and not just in a "i love the rot" way but in a "they are the promised heroes" type of way and i never jived with it. i did not enjoy the vast majority of dany's chapters on my first read, nor did i enjoy this weird "well if you like the starks you're a NORMIE" takes that i was constantly seeing, and the sansa v arya war was insane (i'm blocked and have blocked just so many people lol).

i say all that because everyone was UP jaehaerys' ass. i won't name names but i remember a common rebuttal to the "well george is kinda critiquing incest-in-fantasy here and i'm not sure this series is going to end with an incestuous targ restoration" stance was "well if incest is so bad why do jaehaerys and alysanne exist huh? check AND mate incest hater" and it was like............alright, so this is a fandom of deeply unserious people who like to think they are the Expert On Themes instead of just another schmuck with a blog like everyone else. it was just a very condescending tone, always, and it turned me off the targs but especially turned me off jaehaerys.

and it was also like....but what has he done to be so beloved in this fandom??? again, this is pre twoiaf, and then post-twoiaf but pre f&b, so all we know about this dude is that he was called the conciliator because he pardoned the people who sided with maegor, he "protected the faith", he married his sister who gave the watch the gift, he abolished prima noctus, he built a dirt road, he was besties with barth. okay? i always thought the move with the gift was annoying and goofy behavior & i feel very vindicated on being right there esp if aegon’s dream was real, and i’ve always thought the marriages for his kids were kinda weird once we got those in twoiaf and WHAT DO YOU KNOW. like, pre twoiaf everyone was hyping him up as this great king, this paragon of valyrian supremacy, oh he’s so smart and politically minded but he’s not overly cruel, and it was like. we know little about this man in his day to day life though. we know damn well whatever good robert did as king was largely jon arryn's influence so Why are we pretending like just because jaehaerys passed a few good laws it means HE was the one responsible for those ideas (and again I WAS RIGHT). is what he’s doing even that good??

AND THEN FIRE AND BLOOD CAME OUT. and everyone was crying screaming throwing up about how stupid he is, how cruel he is, how weird he is about his daughters, and then people started saying “well you’re being unfair if you don’t like him because-“ i don’t give a shit because i’m validated for not liking that man’s vibes thanks!!!! like…yeah he IS a paragon of targaryen supremacy and this is not a good thing! and especially when you factor in how often the patriarchs of the series have these deeply rooted, very disturbing flaws, i thought the backlash to f&b re: “he ruined jae & aly!” so silly. of COURSE he was weird about his daughters, he eloped with his 12 year old sister and when confronted over it basically said “i do what i want fuck you” that’s not romantic it’s INSANE BEHAVIOR and i’ll stand on that forever!!! marrying your siblings is deranged and idgaf about what magic or political reasoning they have ESPECIALLY when jaehaerys himself refuses a valyrian marriage several times over when it makes more political sense to go that route (in both his own marriage and in the marriages of his grandchildren).

so! i always thought he was boring and weird, then f&b came out and i was vindicated. the thing is, as i read, i guess i was also like. but what is the fuckijg POINT of this guy! he dominates the f&b narrative when there’s way more interesting characters, he has no redeeming qualities, every good thing he does is usually overshadowed by his reasoning being heinous and disturbing, but this book is pushing this idea that he’s the good one, he’s the blueprint, so is it JUST an exploration of like, what ~being a good person~ really means and how reputations & history are very malleable depending on who is recording it??

And then i really started to dig into Saera. Her isolation, her drinking, her sexually tormenting the court fool, the way jaehaerys is always giving her gifts and "indulging" her, the way she's brought before the throne instead of in a private room because what she did is considered like, treasonous basically (what she did being, of course, having sex without her father's permission, lmao!), her very hysterical confrontation with her parents, Jonquil Darke forcing her to watch her boyfriend be murdered, Jaehaerys' insistence on refusing to forgive her and calling her a whore, and of course this weird exchange:

“What have you done?” the king said, when at last the princess ran out of words. “Seven save us, what have you done? Have you given one of these boys your maidenhead? Tell me true.” “True?” said Saera. It was in that moment, with that word, that the contempt came out. “No. I gave it to all three. They all think they were the first. Boys are such silly fools.”

"They all think they were the first." they all think it. i don't think any of those three boys were the first - i think she'd lost her virginity well before she started fooling around with them and when I first read that part my first thought was "I think Jaehaerys knows damn well who she lost her virginity to" and I started spiraling from there.

I decided to do a write up of Jaehaerys Being Deeply Weird Towards His Girls and while there's some things I would change - in particular, I think I'd add more to the Alyssa, Viserra, and Gael sections - there's a reason that the Saera section in particular seemed to really spark off a lot of conversation (not to toot my own horn here lmao) and that reason, imo, is that a lot of people read about what happened between Saera and jaehaerys and go "now what in the goddamn hell is THAT about." Saera more than any of Jaehaerys' kids is imo the canary in the coal mine, so to speak - whatever George intended with F&B, I do think he meant for us to look at the way Jaehaerys talks about Saera and go "this guy has some fucking ISSUES." I don't know that he meant for it to go all the way up to "Jaehaerys is molesting his own kids" route but I do fully believe he meant something in that realm of "Jaaehaerys is cruel to a sexually abusive point to his children" the same way that like, Tywin and Cersei sexually abuse Tyrion but don't outright rape him themselves. I think Jaehaerys was always meant to be aman who is remembered fondly but was an absolute monster in his private life, in contrast to both the kings he succeeded (maegor and aenys) and as a point of comparison to our "modern day" patriarchs who have their own hang ups surrounding their daughters in Tywin, Doran, Ned, Robert, Jon, and Hoster.

[msfcatlover]

Yet more Reverse!Robins

EDIT: Now on AO3.

(Calling back to my tags on this post, and one of the images from this one that live rent free in my brain.)

Joker gets bored torturing Jason on his own after a couple days, and sends out invites to all the other rogues (or at least, the ones he’s pretty sure won’t rat him out and end the fun) about a “surprise present” he’s working on for Batman. Steph has absolutely no interest involving herself in Joker’s nonsense, so she immediately throws it out and focuses on securing her area of the city to keep her people safe. She doesn’t think much more of it.

Six days later, Tim shows up at the door of one of her clubs. Not in costume, barely hiding his identity, hardly even armed (like, the bare minimum for walking around this part of town this late at night, and most of that is artfully hidden in his crutches & leg braces.) Aside from Damian or Bruce crashing the party to accuse Steph of stuff (that like 60% of the time she didn’t even do,) none of the Bats have ever approached Steph in an actual place of business before. She’s curious. She tells security to let him in, and show him to her table.

“Mr. Wayne,” Steph says, because fuck it, if Tim’s only going to mess up his hair and barely slap some concealer over the dark circles under his eyes, she isn’t gonna maintain his identity for him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Tim shakes her hand, looks her dead in the eye, never glancing at her guards or flinching at his name. A proper little businessman, in a ratty band t-shirt and a pair of old jeans. “I need a favor.”

“You? Need a favor from me?”

“Yes.”

“The great Timothy Wayne?”

“I didn’t come here to play games.” Tim glares. “Yes, I need your help. Yes, it has to be you. Yes, I am out of other options. No, I am not above groveling—”

“Really?”

“Steph.”

“Don’t,” she growls back, “try to play this like we’re friends, Tim.”

Tim crosses his arms and scowls off to the side. “…Fine. We’ll keep it professional.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I wouldn’t be opposed to seeing you on your knees.” Tim’s eye twitches as Steph takes a sip of her drink. “What brings you to my humble abode?”

“I told you, need a favor,” Tim repeats.

“Well, that could be anything,” Steph says, rolling her eyes behind her mask.

“My little brother’s missing.”

Steph’s drink goes down the wrong way. She forces herself to swallow her cough. Steph clears her throat to mask it, and sets her drink back on the table.

Tim continues like he didn’t notice. “The police can’t find him. The Bats can’t find him. I have been leveraging every advantage I’ve got, but nobody has seen him in over a week—”

Ice slips down Steph’s spine as she remembers the invitation she’d thrown out right around a week ago.

“—but you have contacts they don’t.” Tim takes a deep breath. “I know you hate us, I know you…” His eyes flicker towards her guards. “…You’ve made your opinions very clear—”

“I should certainly hope so,” Steph mutters.

“—but whatever you think of me, or Bruce, or Cass, Duke, Damian, anybody, Jason’s innocent. He’s suffered enough.” Tim has a warning in his eyes: You’ve hurt him enough. Like she’d actually tried to kill the kid or something (if Steph wanted Jason dead, he’d be dead; honestly, she didn’t even leave any permanent damage. Her lesson was no harsher than anything any of them got on a bad patrol, she was just more open about the point she was making.) “He’s just a kid.”

“And yet, you keep letting him out into this city.”

Anger flashes across Tim’s face, but he visibly chokes it down. “I’m not having this conversation with you. This has nothing to do with Jason’s hobbies or field trips, or whether or not you approve of them. This is about a 15yr old kid, missing in Gotham City, following the biggest Arkham breakout in the last 10yrs. Are you going to help or not?”

Steph sighs, propping one elbow on the table and leaning on her fist. “What have you got for me?”

“Jason snuck out for a party nine days ago—the night of the breakout.” (Translation: Jason was in uniform, probably on patrol.) “We have a system where even if he doesn’t want Bruce to know what he’s doing, Jason still calls me to check in every 2hrs. He checked in a little before 2, because he said he was about to be ‘really busy’ and didn’t want me to worry. I told him to go home. He told me he’d be fine, that he wasn’t anywhere near the mayhem.” Tim’s expression is flat, dead. “He didn’t check in again. Nobody’s seen or heard from him since. There have been no ransom demands. Last sighting was outside of Genevieve’s in Burnley.”

The invitation arrived six days ago exactly.

Steph needs to go. Steph needs—Steph needs to find that letter, she can’t remember if it had an address or a time, she can’t—

“I’ll pay whatever you want,” Tim tells her, seemingly unaware of how Steph’s breath is caught in her lungs (remembering what it was like to be 16, tiny, and at the whims of a madman. Eight full days. Did Steph suffer that long? She doesn’t think so, but the time all blurs together under the pain…) “Money is obviously no object. Weapons? Name them. Tech? I’ll build it for you myself. I can wipe your record clean. I can keep the Bats off your back. I can—” Tim swallows. “My balance isn’t the best anymore, but if you want me on my knees, I can beg. If you need me to demonstrate my gratefulness or if you need someone to hurt, I—”

“Oh my god, STOP!” The table wobbles as Steph jumps to her feet, nearly spilling her ginger ale—but then, she doesn’t really want it anymore. Her stomach is one giant knot, and she’s really regretting those onion rings she had earlier.

“Please,” Tim says, soft and far more earnest than Steph can deal with right now. “He’s my little brother. I… it’s my fault he thought he could go out like this. If there’s anything you can do…”

Steph needs to get to her office. She needs to find that note, and if she can’t find it, she needs to find Joker’s delivery boy so she can beat the answer out of him. She steps away from the table. “I’ll get back to you.”

Tim grabs Steph’s wrist as she passes by. “Please—”

“I said, I’ll get back to you,” Steph snaps, yanking her arm out of his grip. She looks away from Tim’s wounded expression. “I can’t do anything if you’re dragging me down.”

Tim’s shoulders sag with relief. “Thank you.”

“…You owe me. Whether I find him or not.”

“Thank you.”

Steph walks away. She doesn’t look back.

(She shoots Joker in the throat, grabs the nearest heavy object—curved & metal, but much else doesn’t register—and beats the clown’s head in while screaming insults in League dialect. She strips down to her suit’s under layer to keep Joker’s blood away from Jason, tossing her gloves away without caring about fingerprints, and kneels down in front of Jason, making herself as small as possible. She undoes the bonds, checking his injuries, and when Jason collapses into Steph’s arms, she holds on. Steph cradles Jason in her arms, helps him rehydrate from her water bottle, and apologizes in every language she knows for not being there for him sooner.)

(Without the mask or the armor, with Steph’s hair pulling wild & sweaty out of its braid, she doesn’t look nearly so much like the villain who hurt him before. Jason wonders if he’s dead or dreaming, to finally have the hero he looked up to for so much of his childhood decide he’s worth saving after all.)

(Steph would go to the ends of the earth to protect him from that point forward. When questioned, she just mutters something about not “letting all that work go to waste.”)

[bg-brainrot]

WHaBFHtLA - Astarion x GN!Reader - Chapter 15: More than Friends Pt. 1

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Elf!Tav)

Genre: Reincarnation, Angst, Mystery, Slow burn

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Canon-Typical Violence, violence, some explicit content

WC: 8k words, 15/?? chapters

Summary: Push finally comes to shove. As fun as living in the present is, Astarion forgets that present dangers are still very, very real. Afterward, emotions run high, and you find yourself in a familiar predicament.

A/N: I know I put this warning in ch 1, but warning that the smut is always going to be more about their ~feelings~ than actual smut, so like, be forewarned and don’t expect too much 🔥!

Also: I never play wizards in real campaigns! I’m a filthy rogue-main and if I play a caster, it’s usually been for the roleplay of it all, so this Tav is not built optimally. They’re built for a chill life in Neverwinter with a few offensive spells. I’m also sticking to 5E rules for this (invisibility, spell prep) for the sake of story as well.

Ao3 | [Ch14][Ch16] | WHaBFHtLA Masterlist

Since you rejected his advances a few nights ago, Astarion has been making an effort. You’re not entirely sure what the effort amounts to, but it’s an effort nonetheless.

At first you think it’s to get to know you better, understand who you are, as you asked him to. But surely it isn’t that. Something like that wouldn’t make you feel this uncomfortable.

“Oh darling, please let me embroider your robes. They’re simply not doing enough to flatter your alluring figure.”

“Simply exquisite. When you read by candlelight, your eyes shine brighter than even the most vivid moonstones.”

“Have I ever told you that your voice could lure a siren? No? Well, its dulcet tones make this dreadful work all worth the while.”

You think he’s… flirting? However, either he’s out of practice or you’re not an easy person to flirt with, because each time you’re left a bit confused and unsure how to react. Usually it ends with you changing the subject with an awkward chuckle and a thanks.

As the new week begins and you’re finding yourself inundated with these odd statements, you think this might actually be his attempt to get to know you better– he just hasn’t gotten close to someone in so long, it’s devolved into an awkward jumble of compliments.

So when you return from your start-of-week shopping trip to find Astarion waiting, arms crossed, expression irked, you suspect you know what it’s about.

“Why are you rebuffing my every attempt to converse with you?” His voice is annoyed and you try your best not to laugh, thinking of how long he might have been waiting for you in that very position. But you’d been expecting this, so you know better than to laugh.

“Astarion,” you start, putting your bags down. “Are you talking about your weird flattery?”

He all but sputters his next words, “‘Weird flattery’?!” 

You nod. “How else am I supposed to take comments about my ‘dulcet tones’?”

As if just hearing these words for the first time, Astarion recoils a bit. “Well, when you say it…” he trails off a bit before continuing. “I’m just trying to open up a conversation, darling. Not all of us have your… knack for subtlety.” You ignore the insult, as it’s likely warranted anyway.

“Regardless, thank you for making an attempt,” you say, closing the distance between you. “It means a lot to me, even if it’s been, hmmm, odd.”

“Yes, well, I appreciate you saying so,” he says, puffing his chest out a bit. “Gods know I deserve more praise these days for how patient I’ve been.”

You laugh and respond with a matching levity, “Any more praise and your head shall be too big for your shoulders.” Then, you don’t know what compels you, whether it be the instincts of your former self or the strange lull of domesticity you’ve both fallen into in the past few weeks, but you peck a light kiss on his cheek.

Both of you freeze as the gesture catches up to you.

Your mind doesn’t freeze, however, already peppering you with all of the questions a situation like this warrants, Did that just happen? What have I done? Why did I do that?!

Your mouth catches back up to your mind next. “Oh gods, I'm so sorry, I just– my body moved on its own. I didn’t mean to do that.”

Astarion doesn't say anything, just stands there in shock. A slow motion brings his hand up to feel where your warm lips made contact on his cheek.

Your heart drops in your chest as you continue to spew words at him, "I keep messing up, I really am sorry.” Then, seeing that no ‘sorry’ is bringing him out of his stupor, you feel the need to explain further, "I just can't help it. It's like caring for you is instinctual. I know you don't care about me, but–"

"I do care about you. I think. Just not… the same," he says, interrupting your rampaging speech. "It’s just all a bit… confusing."

Your heart leaps in your chest at the glimpse of hope. "So you don't want me to crawl back to where I came from?"

"… no. I don't think I do," he responds, dropping his hand. He meets your eyes once more and his tone turns teasing. "And please do adjust your fantasies. I would be much more likely to recommend you take a trip to the hells."

You don’t speak for a bit, as you collect your weekly groceries, head to the kitchen and begin to sort them. Guilt still beats against your chest like a second heart and you wonder if you’ll ever be able to speak to him again. That is until Astarion jolts you out of your spiraling anxieties.

“Darling, are you going to pout all day?” he says, head resting on his palm while he watches you from the kitchen table. “While it was so very droll at first, I’m starting to feel like I live alone again.”

Right. He’s not the same Astarion you remember from your dreams. While the touch had been a surprise, he doesn’t seem angry or bothered by it in the slightest. He really does seem mostly amused– oh good, at least I’m a source of amusement to him.

So you try to let it go– the moment of weakness, of a habit that wasn’t even yours. That’s not to say that you let it go entirely though.

You apologize again. And again. And again. All throughout the day.

He says you don’t need to keep apologizing, but you do. You feel like you’ve crossed a boundary that wasn’t ready to be crossed. You’re so worried that this carefully crafted, all-too-delicate bond would break with a mere kiss on the cheek.

Astarion assures you, it didn’t bother him. He was simply a bit stunned. While he hasn’t remained celibate over the years, not many have dared to do as you had done. You, the intruder, had dared to kiss the sad, broken vampire’s cheek. He says it like a joke, and you wish you could laugh with him, but worry persists even after you manage a reluctant little chuckle.

And so the rest of the day remains tainted, all but ruined in your mind.

Despite this, the day does continue. You go through plans for an expansion to the colony, more room to allow the vampires a better life. You’re a bit more aware of his hands near yours, his head leaning toward you, but otherwise, you manage.

Towards the end of the day, Astarion receives a message on a Sending Stone from Dal. He doesn’t tell you the contents of the message, but the look on his face says it all: worry. As soon as the exchange is over, he gets up to leave. He refuses to elaborate beyond the fact that his siblings need him.

You nod, not questioning his concern. “Can I do anything to help?”

“No,” he says, lips pressed together firmly, broaching no room for discussion. “I need to go now. I should be back by morning. Remember what I asked you?” When your expression remains blank he continues, “Prepare a Mage Armour or another warding spell.”

“Okay,” you respond, and your own face is likely as worried as his is now. “Are you sure you don’t need my–”

He grabs your hand in a rush. “Stay put. Promise me.”

You’re not sure that you can promise that, especially if he’s entering a dangerous situation. But with the way his red eyes burn into you, you find yourself nodding again. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Tomorrow,” he confirms, releasing your hand and leaving. You’re left in a flurry of papers and growing unease.

__

On your sixteenth day in Astarion’s house, everything goes wrong.

He meets you in the morning, just as he promised, but after that, your day turns upside down entirely.

“Astarion?” you ask, when you open your door to his incessant knocks.

“Good,” he breathes. “You’re awake.”

You’d only just exited your reverie, but the look of sheer panic on his face means your remark dies in your throat. “What’s wrong?”

“Something came up,” he says before looking you up and down. “Get dressed and meet me in my room.”

Even on a regular day you would have listened, perhaps with a sly remark, but on a day like today, where his voice comes out short, clipped, and his jaw is clenched in a hard line? You comply with his orders like the model student you once were.

As soon as you’re ready for the day– in your best travel robe, Mage Armour cast, a variety of new spells prepared for the day– you head toward Astarion. You hope you won’t need the preparation, but with the way that Astarion’s shoulders were set, you suspect you might.

“Astarion?” you call, knocking on the door. “I’m here.”

He opens the door and you’re graced with a surprising amount of his bare chest. “Good,” he says, either not noticing or not caring about the blush that’s creeping up your neck and into your face. “I need your help.”

Finally, you think, brushing aside any feelings his bare body might stir within you. He trusts you and you this is your chance to prove yourself to him. You’re not sure with what yet, but what does it matter?

“Could you help me put on my armor?” he says, handing you a pile of leathers, straps, and buckles. 

Oh.

“Of course,” you respond, working to lay out the armor. You vaguely recognize it, albeit with a few adjustments here and there. Different pauldrons, a few knicks marring its surface that weren’t there 150 years ago, but otherwise no worse for wear. “What else do you need help with?”

“Nothing else,” he says, pulling on a pair of boots you also recognize. “I simply don’t have the luxury of asking my siblings for help currently.”

You stop midway through sorting straps. “Okay, what’s going on Astarion? You can’t leave me in the dark like this.”

The vampire sighs, but lifts his head from his task to look you squarely in the face. “A group of hunters have found the colony. A few scouts found them on our trail last night. We’re preparing to defend it. It might be the biggest group we’ve seen… well, ever since we relocated.” He goes back to lacing his boots as he continues, “Nothing you need to worry about though. You will be staying right here, hiding.”

“Hiding ?” you ask, indignant. “Why would I be hiding when I can help?”

“Because,” he hisses, standing up and walking toward you like a panther. “We are frankly not in need of your help. We have our defensive plans set already, and I rather suspect you may do more harm than good.”

The words sting– largely because of the truth in them. Why should you enter the fray when you hadn’t been preparing to defend the colony? Did a few weeks of desk work amount to an honorary spot on the front lines? Still, the idea that this man– who you had already spent so much of your life with, who you had worked so hard to find– could be in danger? You could hardly sit by and twiddle your thumbs. So you begin your case.

“I may not be gifted in shaping my Evocation spells, but I have plenty of supportive spells,” you say, gesturing for Astarion to sit on his bed, the first undershirt for the armor ready in your hands. “I can create stone or relay messages for you. If none of that is helpful, I can always use Magic Missile– it wouldn’t get in your way at all. Please, let me help.”

Astarion sits there, silent, as you plead and place each piece of armor on his body. Partway through the process, you register that you’ve never done this before– but your memories of your past-life have guided you step-by-step. 

You try to ignore the conflicting feelings bubbling up at that and focus on him, placing both hands on his now-armored shoulders. “Astarion, I won’t get in the way. I promise I will turn invisible or teleport out if anything goes wrong.”

Finally, he speaks again. “I appreciate that you care enough to help,” he starts, though he doesn’t sound like he appreciates it much. “But I’m afraid that you’re still not invited.”

You want to shake him, do something, anything to make him see you as an asset, an ally, someone he can trust with this. “But why not? Why teach me all of these things about the colony only to shut me out when it matters most?”

“Because this isn’t your responsibility!” he growls, glaring up at you through his lashes. “Because you are to remain here, stay safe, and live to see another day, despite all of your instincts to the contrary!”

His anger is palpable, pushing you back, off of him. You want to see the fear underneath his words, and you think you might get a glimpse. You want to understand where he’s coming from, to see yourself through his eyes. But all of that pales in comparison to the frustration building inside of you. Why won’t he take me seriously? “I can take care of myself!”

“I don’t have time for this,” he spits out as he stands up. “Shall I be brutally honest, darling? You’re too weak. You are not the Hero of Baldur’s Gate. And even if you were, I would tell you to stay here. ”

You know his words are meant to injure you, to deter you and keep you hidden away in this mansion, but they don’t hurt any less. You’re not sure what to say to him, can’t bring yourself to look at him as he storms out, toward the hidden entrance to the Underdark.

Just as he’s about to leave your periphery, into the illusory wall, he calls back. “I know you’re angry, but please, stay put. And if anyone other than myself or my siblings comes through that door, you leave.”

With that, Astarion is gone, body melting into the wall, leaving you standing in his room alone, emotions frayed and hands trembling with a silent rage.

You wait about thirty seconds before casting Invisibility on yourself.

You wait less than a minute after that to follow him.

He can treat me like a child all he wants, but I will make my own decisions. Even if those decisions involved diving head first into jeopardy. Watching him climb down the ladder, waiting for him to hit solid ground before you follow, you can't help but think back to your past week here. It had been lovely, born of a promise to forget the past and the spawn, focus on the present with him. But how unrealistic that truly was when faced with real danger.

So you trail him, careful to keep concentration on your invisibility, lest he catch you before you get to the colony. I’ll have to lose the invisibility sooner or later, you think. But I’d rather use it as an opportunity to attack.

You keep a distance between you through the field of Bibberbangs, on the walk toward the keep, but when you see Astarion dashing toward a small contingent, you begin to run after him.

Once you catch up to him, you notice the group appears to be comprised of most of his siblings. Out of arm's reach but well within earshot, you stay and listen to their conversation.

“Did we get a final count from the scouting party?” Astarion asks, and you see a tiefling, Aurelia you believe, step forward.

“A dozen at least, likely more. They’re organized, preparing to strike. Astarion, it’s not good,” she says. From your time with Astarion, you know that she’s been in charge of directing the scouting parties for at least a few decades.

Astarion grimaces but nods, turning to another sibling you recognize. “Leon, where do you need me?”

“The ambush point, if you’re ready. We need to head them off before they get any closer to the colony.” The man has been in charge of coordinating the various groups ever since your past-self died, and, from what you gathered, had grown into his leadership role well.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose. What is our final count?”

Dal answers this one. “Our numbers haven’t improved much since last night. We only have about thirty in any real fighting shape. A few who are willing to fight if it means they feed, but none I would consider strong fighters. There are others on the ballistas ready for support fire though. Petras should be up there with them now.”

Astarion makes an annoyed sound. After helping him with colony logistics, you knew that their fighting numbers were low, too many had died in prior raids, too many had been without blood for too long, but you hadn’t expected it to get this bad. You half wonder if you would do better to offer your body up to them, rather than your magic.

You don’t have time to dwell on the idea before Astarion is asking his next question, “Very well. Violet is with the evacuees, I take it?”

Leon nods, and continues, “Yes. We’ve had more than enough time to evacuate the noncombatants. It’s now just a matter of keeping these hunters at bay.”

Astarion’s posture seems to loosen a bit at that, but not by much. You’ve not seen Astarion this serious since you were fighting a world-ending horror– and even then he had room for jokes. But clearly the man before you was different. Like he’d lost enough, and for the survival of his siblings, his family, he would do what needed to be done.

He turns to look down at his shortest sibling. “Yousen, come with me.”

The gnome gives a curt nod and pulls out his weapon. “After you.”

You’re torn at that moment. You want to follow Astarion, ensure that he remains safe above all else. But you also know that he would disapprove of you joining any type of ambush, that you may truly prove to be a distraction for him. Besides, what kind of wizard gets within stabbing distance?

So you watch him run off, Yousen in tow. As your heart sinks deep into the pits of your stomach, you wonder if the worry you feel is that of a friend. But you don’t have time to ponder anything as trite as your feelings for Astarion– you have to find a position that won’t hinder, somewhere you can help and show Astarion that you are capable of standing by his side. Metaphorically at the very least.

The rest of the siblings disperse after confirming their orders. Leon heads to the front of the keep, Aurelia returns to her scouts, and Dal seems to be heading somewhere secluded. From your dreams and learning of the colony, you know Dal to be a healer, so she ought to be heading somewhere away from the fight. You follow her.

Much as you suspected, she moves up into the battlement of the keep, close enough to provide support, but far enough to stay out of danger. Perfect, you think. You silently thank her, wishing you could send her a message without breaking your invisibility or chirp up without terrifying her. As it is, you have to take your time, wait for the perfect opportunity to be helpful.

The wait is excruciating. You may as well be in the Astral Plane for how little time seems to be moving. 

A level below you, Petras and some spawn are preparing their ballistas. To your side, Dal sorts health potions, arranging ingredients to make more. All you can do is breathe as quietly as possible, rest your arms on the crenel before you, and hope that your spells will be able to reach.

It turns out that your hopes hardly matter in the face of real combat. One second you’re standing there, almost bored, and the next you spot Dalyria’s head pop up like a frightened rodent. “Petras! Take cover!” she yells.

Time seems to stop. You register that she’s diving into cover, that the sending stone she’d been holding had fallen to the ground, and that out of the corner of your eye a burst of bright light is rapidly approaching.

Crap. 

You fall to the floor, hoping that will provide enough protection. Hoping, beyond all hope, that for some reason the Fireball will simply not hit you. Of course that’s not how magic works, you would know. 

Only a split second later, the fiery burst explodes before you. You don’t even have time to feel fear or to react with a spell of your own. Luckily for you, the battlements provide some cover, and you manage to maintain concentration on your invisibility. But gods does it burn. 

You can’t help the yelp that escapes your lips, and you note that Dalyria’s head turns toward you at the sound. She seems to have escaped the blast, hiding behind a wall, but you swear the expression on her face is more wounded than you are. The woman’s face is sad, it’s scared, and so tired.

You’re reminded of the dream you’d had, of your former-self helping to defend the vampire’s previous keep. After nearly three centuries of living in survival mode, the exhaustion in Dal’s eyes is warranted. Frankly, you don’t know if you would have the strength to last as long as she and the other spawn have. But, for at least today, you would muster it.

It’s easy enough to piece together what happened. Dal received a message from the scouts or from the frontlines, they were targeting the support lines, and you needed to get the hells out of these battlements.

You crawl forward, grabbing the Sending Stone before you make your way to Dal’s hiding spot. Making sure you’re out of swinging reach, you call to Dalyria, “Dal, it’s me.” She adjusts her gaze, honing in on where you are now. “I’m here to help.”

The woman nods, clearly too fueled by adrenaline to be shocked by your presence. “I knew you would come,” she says quickly. “Astarion is such an ass sometimes.”

While you agree with her, you decide not to comment on that. He had likely told them you were indisposed or didn’t want to be here, but you need her to know that that has never been the truth. “Of course I would come. Where do you need me?”

“Astarion said they’ve split their forces. The second group has a wizard, that’s where that Fireball came from,” she says, eyes darting back out to the rest of the keep, where the sounds of battle have begun to ring. “Do you have anything that could help neutralize their wizard?”

You think to yourself, wishing more than anything you had prepared the spell Silence. As it is, you have plenty of other, far less useful spells at your disposal. But you’re not about to tell Dal that, not when she’s looking in your vague direction with a set of hopeful, pleading red eyes. Eyes that remind you of the vampire who is also in danger at this very moment.

So you sound far more confident than you feel when you say, “Certainly, I’ll head there immediately.”

Before you go, you try to give her the Sending Stone back, in the event she needs to communicate with Astarion. She pushes the rock back into your invisible hand with a shake of her head. “No, no, you’ll be out there. You need this more than I do. Astarion has the matching stone, call for him if you need help.”

You decide not to tell her that Astarion might just kill you himself if he hears your voice through the stone, and instead thank her, pocketing the stone. “Stay safe,” you say as you hurry toward the stairs once more.

“You too,” she calls after you.

Then you’re running down the stairs, two at a time, no longer caring who might hear your invisible steps. After all, the din of combat is drowning out everything else. A few Fireballs hit the battlements you’d just left and you hear the following cries of those on the ballistas. You had known that fighting would be loud, scary, dangerous–but gods did you still miss the comfort of knowing that at the end of it all you would wake up, untouched.

You don’t know where to go or how to get there, so you find your feet moving on instinct, toward all of the sounds that should terrify you.

Once you’re finally in the fray, you see the two groups, as Dal had described. The group at the mouth of the keep is being held at bay by Leon and his forces, and you can see Astarion’s group dropping behind, preparing for another sneak attack. You hug a wall to get closer to the second group, all the while watching Astarion’s lithe form move in on an enemy.

You can’t help but be in awe at seeing the man in his element.

Armor hugging his body, knives gleaming in his hands, he looks every bit the dangerous, roguish vampire he was when you first dreamt of him. The difference is that now, instead of fear, you feel an odd sense of pride. That’s right, you think. Stab him again!

But you can’t let him distract you, you’re nearly to the second group of hunters. There are at least six to your quick count, each looking as nasty and well equipped as the last. Now that you’re close you can see the wizard, standing in the back, already preparing another spell.

Again, you curse yourself. Why didn’t you prepare Counterspell, you idiot? It’s too late for regrets though, you’d had no idea what you might be getting into when you arose that morning. All you could do was work with what information you had.

Despite all of your memories, nothing can prepare you for this moment, when you finally, truly enter a combat situation. Your mind races with possibilities, and you’re struck by the fact that none of them are the right solution. There is no right solution to a battle. 

So you go with your instinct. 

You run forward, directly in front of the wizard’s line of sight. At the end of your run you slide to the earth, landing a mere few feet away from the group in front of you as you place both palms on the ground.

The invisibility drops as you recite the incantation for Stone Shape and the earth beneath you bursts forth into a large stone wall, at least five feet tall, another five feet wide. It leaves a crater in its wake, pulling from the ground to materialize.

It seems to form just in time as the heat of a Fireball collides with the wall, flames burst out of both sides. Excitement surges through you as you realize your plan worked. You hear shouts behind the wall, the vampire hunters eating a face full of their own fire.

You remain on the ground, now visible, sure that the group on the other side is still alive if their shouts are any indication. Oh this isn’t a good place to be, you think belatedly.

It certainly isn’t, as you hear the hunters make their way around the brand new trench in the ground. I need to get out of here . “Inveniam viam!” Your whole body turns to mist as you step further back into the keep, still feeling naked in how visible you are. 

You take a single moment to assess the situation. The hunters have gotten around the wall, though if their singed armor is any indication, the Fireball certainly helped weaken them. The mage seems no worse for wear, too far back to truly be hurt, but their eyes are now trained on you.

There goes my element of surprise, you think. And they probably did prepare Counterspell…

You try not to think too hard about how disastrous this wizard-on-wizard battle may prove, trying instead to find which group you may be able to support. That’s when you lock eyes with the exact pair of red eyes you had been dreading this entire time.

You’re too far to hear him, but it's easy enough to see his lips mouth your name. He looks angry, angrier perhaps than you’ve ever seen him, and his next stab seems particularly erratic. 

Oh gods, he’s going to get hurt if I distract him too much, you think in a panic. I need to get out of here, give him a chance to calm down. 

“Evanesco!” you call, trying to call forth the magic for Invisibility once more. But of course, you wouldn’t get the chance to try the same trick twice. 

You feel the Counterspell more than see or hear it. It’s like your body rejects the magic as it tries to come out, and you’re left awkwardly standing there as the group of hunters close in on your position. Shit.

For the first time in your life you feel it for yourself: real, unfiltered fear.

You had always been horrified at this possibility. That when faced with actual danger, you would not rise to the occasion. But now that you’re here, you want to smack your legs, you want to jostle your own shoulders, push yourself into the action that you had craved.

RUN, damn you, you think, willing your shaking legs to move. All of those dreams of combat, of fighting by Astarion’s side, could all come true right now if you just moved.

Then you hear a cry. 

It’s not bloodcurdling, it’s not particularly painful, rather a soft “argh” coming from the man you’d stupidly followed into danger. He’d been reckless, gotten himself nicked in his fury. But it’s all you need to jolt into action. 

You’d promised Astarion that you wouldn’t cause any undue damage, no Evocation in the house and what not. But all of your promises were tossed aside the second he uttered a single pained sound.

Holding out a hand, you call out your most destructive spell.

You can feel the mage try to Counterspell you once more, as your magic wavers ever so slightly. But his attempt fails and a massive wall of fire rips out of the ground, like the hells themselves have torn the earth asunder. 

You’d controlled yourself well enough, and you’re almost certain you haven’t trapped any unsuspecting vampire spawn in a fiery blaze. The hunters, on the other hand, were not nearly so lucky. They’d been approaching you in such a way that they all got caught in the Wall of Fire, all save that damn wizard.

Their cries are high-pitched, desperate things, as they run through the wall, stumbling toward you like some sort of twisted Fire Elementals. They refuse to go down without a fight.

Your legs stumble back, as you narrowly avoid a few of their attacks, one glances off your Mage Armour, another catches your robe, leaving a single bleeding line on your arm. You’re not sure how readily they will fall, but you certainly won’t let them take you with them. 

“Tormentum!” you shout, as a stream of glowing darts shoot out of your fingers. You strike each of them as you pour more and more of your magic into the spell. Distantly, you can hear Astarion calling for you.

With your unoccupied hand you grab the Sending Stone, “Don’t come for me. I’m fine.”

His response is immediate, “Like hells I will, you bloody fool!”

You don’t have the wherewithal to know where Astarion might be at this point, but when a single blade bursts out of a man’s neck, you suspect that you have a good idea. A second later a second man collapses, clutching at a dagger twisting between his ribs. 

Astarion stands behind them, silver hair streaked with bloody red strands, his face dappled with scarlet as well. He may be stabbing them, but his eyes are trained on you, fury not diminished in the slightest.

You want to thank him, tell him you didn’t need the help, appreciate that he’s still alive, standing in front of you. But you can’t because another spell is being fired at you– the wizard’s Magic Missile is about to hit when you reflexively put up a Shield spell.

Turning back to the damnable wizard, you call to Astarion, “Yell at me all you want later. Focus on the wizard!”

“That’s probably what they’re saying,” he retorts, but does dutifully turn his attention to the mage.

As he runs and vaults through the wall of fire, landing behind the stone you shaped. All the while, you shoot off a returning volley of missiles, hitting the remaining hunters and the mage in an attempt to provide cover. 

You wish you had more in you, could summon another blazing wall right on top of the enemy wizard, but you’re reaching your limit. You can feel your magic waning– you likely only have a few spells left in you. Better make them count.

You shoot one last magic missile, assuring that the hunters in front of you are well and done. As you do so, Astarion reaches the mage, stabbing at them in two fluid motions. You see the mage Shield in response, hear Astarion’s annoyed grunt.

I need to give him an opening, you think. You’re growing lightheaded from overexertion, and you can barely feel the Weave as you try to summon your next spell. “Non movere,” you whisper, pointing a finger at the mage. 

The spell overcomes them and the mage is frozen in place. Astarion takes prompt advantage of the Hold Person, stabbing him in several vital areas, likely killing him in place.

Fantastic, you think, swaying on your feet as your knees start to give out from under you. The world fades to black as the magic dissipates from your fingertip. The last thing you see is Astarion’s panicked face, slowly drifting out of your view as your body collapses.

___

You can’t recall the start of your seventeenth day in Astarion’s house. At least, most of it.

Everything aches, you hear voices, you feel healing magic, but your mind retains nothing as you slip in and out of consciousness over and over again. The only things you can recall are the sensation of sheets surrounding you, pillows beneath your head and the whisper of your name on Astarion’s lips. 

You’re an elf– this kind of sleep is unnatural to you. Could you be dying? You have a moment of panic during a short burst of clarity, Am I already dead? Is this it? But you fall back into the darkness before the thought can take hold.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity in a ceaseless cycle of consciousness and unconsciousness, you open your eyes to the back of a familiar silver-haired vampire tending the fireplace. He’s dressed once more in his comfortable, luxurious attire, and you briefly wonder if the previous day had been a dream.

You blink, confused at the sudden change in environment. The last thing you remember was letting loose your spell then– well, you suppose you don’t know what happened next.

“Oh good,” Astarion says, walking toward you and sitting on the edge of the bed. “You’re awake." Distantly, you remember him waking you up just yesterday with those words. Feels like a lifetime ago now.

You sit up, a bit groggily, stretching out your limbs. They all seem intact, and you don’t even feel injured, all of your aches magically gone. “I am– is everyone alright? What… happened?”

“Everyone is fine. Well, save for the vampire hunters,” he answers. “Your destructive little wall kept them from getting too far. Nothing a few nights of healing and some rebuilding won’t fix.”

Your whole body aches from disuse and you wonder how long you must have been resting. Likely longer than you ever have before. “What time is it?”

“It’s late,” he replies, gesturing toward the darkness outside. “Dal’s been tending to your injuries, and luckily they’re minor, but you still needed the rest. Seems like you used more magic than you were used to, mm?”

His words chastise you, but the look on his face is so muted, his posture incredibly stilted– you have a momentary alarm. Is this really Astarion? “I must have. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he says, crossing his legs and turning away from you.

It’s hard to believe him when he reacts like that. “You don’t seem fine.”

“I just…” He takes a breath, and you can see the way his back rises and falls with a tremble. “I was worried.”

“About… me?” you hazard the question. You know you’d grown closer in the last few weeks, but you also don’t want to presume.

Now he turns back to you with a glare, his red eyes sparkling with rage. “Yes, you! For being a wizard, you’re such a gods-forsaken dunce. I told you not to join us and did you even pretend to listen?”

You had not, so you bear the brunt of his anger with what you hope is grace. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, genuinely apologetic despite your initial gusto at joining the fray. You’d felt the fear in those moments, the first time in your life that this body, that you could have genuinely died. You’re not too proud to say that you hated that fear. “I just wanted to help.”

“That’s always the case with people like you, isn’t it?” he says, leaning toward you menacingly. “Always playing the hero and neglecting to even consider the danger they put themselves in? Did you never once consider that I was trying to keep you safe?”

Every word brought Astarion closer and closer into your space, and you start to sink back into the pillows to get away from his fury. “I know you were,” you say, voice still naught but a wisp. “I tried to be careful.” You had, you swear you had– why does it look like that doesn’t matter to him?

“Careful isn't good enough,” he hisses, his face mere inches from yours now. You can feel the next breath he exhales as he continues, calmer now, “I told you already. I refuse to get attached to you only to lose you.”

Is he attached to me? you think, eyes darting between his ruby ones. He’s dangerously close to you and he’s waiting for something. Your response, you idiot. You think back to what he said, trying to ignore the way his body is angled over yours. “I promise. You won’t lose me.” 

An impossible promise to keep, surely. But it’s exactly what he’d been hoping to hear.

“Good,” he murmurs. Then he closes the distance between you, crashing his lips on yours in a desperation you thought reserved for the starving.

You should pull away, push him off of you, at the very least protest. But after a life or death situation, you can’t help it. Something in you wants the very same solace he seeks. So you close your eyes. You twine your fingers into his hair. You press your lips to his in the same ravenous fervor.

He drinks in your reaction, lips chasing yours as cages you in with his arms. A moment later, you feel the blankets that had so carefully been tucked around you tossed aside, you feel one of his hands find your hip.

Oh gods, what am I doing? I can’t do this. Your mind is racing, trying its best to keep up as Astarion climbs over you.

Why not, you’ve done this so many times in your dreams. Your hands move of their own accord, leaving his hair to run down his arms.

We're not ready, you tell yourself. Astarion shivers at your touch and you feel his hands pulling at the neck of your robe to expose more of your flesh.

Will you ever be? Your head rolls back and Astarion dips his head down to touch his cold lips to your collarbone.

Maybe, given some more time… His fingers pull at the front ties of your robe, as you begin to unbutton his silk shirt.

What's the use of more time? You could have died yesterday. You could die any day. Ties undone, Astarion tugs at your robes a bit more, leaving your chest exposed.

I don't want to ruin this. Your breathing comes out a bit erratic as his lips trail up your neck, sucking hungrily but never drawing any blood.

What's one night of passion? Your past-self had this and more before they so much as spoke a single word of love. Your hands tug at his sleeves, all but tearing off his delicate shirt in an effort to touch more of him.

I'm not them, you think. Halfway through stroking his exposed chest, Astarion’s hand catches yours, pinning it above your head as he pulls you into another searing kiss.

You may as well be. His hand in yours, the way his leg presses into you– it all feels so familiar. So what's the harm in being the Hero of Baldur's Gate? Just this once?

That’s how, after years of silently judging your past-self for their loveless trysts with Astarion, you find yourself in much the same predicament. Only you’re not sure how you feel. You only know that there’s no way that this man, who’s driving force right now is likely fear, will love you come morning.

Who cares? the deepest, most primal part of your mind asks.

As Astarion finishes disrobing you, you wonder vaguely if this is what the hero felt. If near death had brought them to the brink of a terror that they couldn’t overcome, a terror that only Astarion’s cold lips, slick tongue, and nimble fingers would fix.

And by the gods above do they feel like the solution to even the most complex of problems.

His lips suckle at the ridge of your ear, sucking on its tip in such a way that draws a soft, unintentional whimper from your mouth. "Oh darling," he whispers, voice low and taunting. "I knew those dulcet tones would be my undoing.”

You want to retort, to shut his clever mouth up, but before you can so much as collect yourself, his lips are on yours again, opening them in a single, languid movement. His tongue, like the rest of him, is chill to the touch, a refreshing burst of cold as he explores your mouth.

Complaints all but forgotten, you relinquish yourself to him. His fingers leave you squirming under him as he traces the lines of your bare body. They never seem to stop moving, searching for each new piece of your skin that requires attention.

And sweet hells is he relentless in his search. Even if you didn't already know of his vast experience, this would have been a clear indicator. His probing fingers know how to play a body like an instrument, and he was tuning yours to play only the loveliest melody for him.

Astarion finally pulls his hands, his lips away. You want to groan in protest, but you’re enraptured by the stretch of his torso, the way his shoulders flex as he removes the last remnants of his clothing. His form laid bare before you, you can’t help but think that surely you’re paying witness to another’s lurid fantasy. Surely this beautiful figure bathed in firelight, celestial in his loveliness, could not be for you?

But he is, if for the moment.

Even if his movements are too perfect, his kisses too sweet– he feels real in the moment, simply because the sheer desperation never leaves him. His hands squeeze, his teeth bite, his words of passion come hurried and breathy between nips. It's abundantly clear what his goal is to you, as it’s similar to your own. He wants to feel you under him, around him, alive. You’re only too happy to oblige.

So you ensure that each of his movements is matched with one of yours. That when he bites, you lean into it; when his fingers probe between your legs, you buck into him; when he chuckles into your ear 'my, you're an eager little treat', you moan his name into his ear without shame.

You'd been with Astarion in more dreams than you would have been comfortable to admit. But, as with every experience you'd had since arriving here, it was nothing compared to living through it with your own body.

It’s not long before you realize that this body feels each touch differently, its sweet spots new treasure troves for Astarion's searching fingers– ones he seems eager to find for you as new indecent sounds pass your lips.

He seems to devour each sound, eager to consume any bit of you that’s ripe for the taking. That’s when you see past his need to feel you alive. No, he wants you to be his. He wants your noises, your body, your soul for his own.

As he expertly strokes between your legs with one hand, the other squeezes your hip, all but pinning you to the bed. In that moment, it doesn’t feel like he’s loving you. It feels like he’s keeping you in place. Like he doesn’t know how else to make sure that you won’t slip through his fingers, like your past-self before you.

You wish you could reassure him, tell him that you would never make the same mistake twice, but both of you know that’s not true. So instead you allow yourself to delude yourself, for at least this one night.

His body asks the question, “Will you really, truly stay with me, live for me?”

Yours responds with a sonorous, deceitful, “Yes.”

Astarion rubs his length between your thighs, almost teasing in its slow, rolling motion, but his hand never leaves your hip.

He palms himself with one hand, ready for you, but the other never leaves your hip.

Even as he thrusts into you, setting a brutal, punishing pace, his hand never leaves your hip.

It doesn’t bother you, this constant reassurance, but it does stoke the fear that already grips your heart. Despite the kisses he lavishes upon you, despite the sweet words that drip from his mouth to yours– you can’t stop thinking about the fact that you could have died. You could very well have left Astarion alone, again, wondering why he ever let another into his life.

Something about that thought pushes you forward to seek your pleasure, to give him every piece of you that you can, lest you lose it by tomorrow.

You don’t know how many times you lose yourselves in each other. By the end of it all, it all feels like another one of your dreams. But you do know that, for the first time since you regained consciousness, you don’t feel that fear any more– only his body, your own, and the beautiful music that they play together.

The night ends with both of you exhausted, laying on your backs and staring up at the ceiling to the room you used to call your own in a past-life. After two days of some of the most you’ve ever exerted yourself, your nightly meditation comes all too easily. Before you slip into your reverie, your last, fleeting thought is of Astarion: I don’t know how we got here, I don’t suppose it truly matters. But thank you for caring about me, in whatever way you can.

[masterkeynobi]

trw e1 brain dump incoming im obsessed w how 0 people predicted some of the pc classes. BARD/ROGUE bulbian bishop? satanist (hungry one-ist?) shapeshifting BARD/WARLOCK teenage spymaster?? (karna is perfect btw i will never not love an ethically dubious aabria pc aabria i'm your biggest fucking fan but i was like 100% sure she’d be a rogue...)

anjali is sooooo fucking fun too ive never seen her play before but i love her already it’s real hot girl shit in there!!! she said somebody in here has to serve CUNT and she DELIVERED!!! jessica rabbit as a mango Do You Like Women. she has the most consistent accent(s) i’ve seen in the dome ever. like i wasn’t sure she Wasn’t irl british until she spoke ooc and sounded american. when she went french-accented british to speak fructerano... beautiful. love it. love to see it. (also was fun when matt went from french-accented to american-accented to indicate the switch to fructerano but that only lasted a few lines, rip)

feels characteristic (affectionate) of lou and zac to play very like. straightforward/Not Great At Politics pcs, given their past pcs within calorum (see: acoc ap ep 5, lou talking abt playing amethar so he doesn't have to be good at politics + zac talking about how playing lapin was hard bc he doesnt think/talk like that; by the time cumulous was in the picture there wasnt really Politics to deal with) vs iyengar + mulligan getting spicy with it and playing devious untrustworthy bitches w big ol secrets.

1. i think colin should kiss either deli or his mom, sorry, and 2. OBSESSED, truly, w the lady amangeaux-raphaniel-karna dynamics. brennans patented cute lil old man voice + a pc who's apparently so optimized to lie that he cannot get a sub-20 deception roll? i watched battle for beyond im gearing the fuck up for another mulligan minmax build that shit rules. lady a loving+trusting both of them implicitly but raphaniel maybe having killed...? her husband...? and karna def going out there and talking shit for fun and profit... yum. delicious. excited for it to get worse

[pendragon-writes]

Mw2 Guys and DND HC's

AN: I’ve never played dnd I’ve only done a bit of pathfinder so if I get anything wrong lmk

Gaz

I’ll start off with their classes

For Gaz he gives me Paladin or Fighter

Basic Ik but with his time being a soldier he tends to like to stick close to home with his characters

I also feel like they’d either be a Human or a Half-Elf, I can’t explain why but the vibes are right.

He also probably hasn’t played dnd before so he’d try to stay safe with his character and try not to get killed.

Oh and for alignment chaotic neutral, it’s still safe but he wants to cause some trouble yk

Soap

He gives me “my character is 10x more chaotic than me”

So for that I’m giving him either the Bard or the Sorcerer and I’ll explain why in a moment

Bards are known very well for being charismatic, and he’d use that to get into some trouble.

And well Sorcerers can use magic, do you know how much chaos you can create with magic alone?

And for race he’d pick Dragonborn if he chose the Sorcerer

Half-Orc for Bard

Oh and his experience? Just as bad as Captain Price’s

Captain Price

First off you’d have to try to even get him to join

He’d call it childish but eventually give in to playing

Definitely had to ask Gaz to help him design his character

Also he’s pretty basic and would pick the Human to play as

His class? Probably the Barbarian cause it sounded cool to him

Just as I mentioned with Soap he barely has no experience

König

For König I’d have to say he’s definitely dabbled in dnd

He’s definitely watched YouTubers and their campaigns and when he heard about you trying to get players he was immediately down to join

For his class, he gives me Wizard or Cleric

While he can also be chaotic if he wants to he could also just be super relied on and not be seen as scary in the world of dnd which he has faced in the real world

Okay hear me out for race he would pick Dwarf or Halfling

Man’s has been tall his whole life, so who would blame him for wanting to be on the shorter side one in a while

Oh and experience? He’s got a good amount

Alejandro

Probably overheard Rudy mention it and it caught his interest

Just like the captain he also doesn’t have much experience but he wants to have fun with it and with making his character

For his class, either the Bard (Like Soap Ik) or the Ranger

It lets him be as versatile as he wants and can also charm people up if Yk what I mean.

If you’re the Dm he will ‘flirt’ with the npc’s and as a result force you to act out these scenes

Ghost

Okay now ghost here acts like he has no clue what dnd is but let’s be honest he totally knows what it is

Very stereotypical but for class I feel like he’d pick the rogue, plus it’s fitting

For his characters race? Tiefling or a Human, since they both fit him as a character

Him and Soap banter about their plans and he pulls rank every time.

[acopenhagenarmy]

Pairing Taehyung x reader 

abo!au - werewolf!au - magical!au

wordcount: 1099 

warnings: none for this chapter 

summary: he is haunted by the white wolf that occupy his dreams, but the mere thought of seeking out his mate scares him. Because what if you only were a dream? 

Part one 

Comment: What a hiatus huh? I’ve been gone for a while, havent updated, but i needed to find myself and my writing style. This is something I’ve been working for on quiet some time. Both writing and rewriting. I kind of like it. But as always, let me know what you think! Don’t be a silent reader, I really appreciate all the feedback. 

Taglist: 

He could feel the ground beneath his paws, and the cold winter breeze in his dark fur coat as he ran through the forest, underneath the pale light of that month's full moon. The subtle scent of summer rain and sandalwood was what had made him bail his brothers on their midnight run in the forest surrounding their family’s territory. 

He was still a cub. Still not strong enough to pick a fight with rogues or intruders, but his senses were better than most wolves his age and his curiosity was once again stronger than the fear of being killed. 

As he ran towards the clearing where he could hear the two wolves, they were closer to him now. They almost danced through the night as they chased each other onto the frozen lake. They were playing, having fun. He watched them as their crystal white fur made them shine as white as the snow around them or the full moon above them. 

They looked like two angels, two mythical creatures that shouldn’t be disturbed. So, he didn’t. Instead, he watched them from the shadows.

He was woken up abruptly by the sound of his brother pounding on his door. The dream always ended there, that was no surprise. The memory of that night by the lake was both crystal clear and hazy at the same time. He never knew how he’d gotten home, in fact no one did. His parents had sent out a search team that night after his brothers had returned without him. Only to find him in human form, tucked into bed in the early morning hours.

He stretched his arms above his head and scratched his eyes before yawning loudly. There was nothing in this world he hated as much as early morning runs. “YAH! Tae hurry up or I’ll send Jin up with a bucket” his brother Namjoon yelled when he didn’t get a reply from the youngest of the three. Taehyung shivered by the thought of the ice-cold water that had woken him more than once throughout his relatively short life. 

“I’m up! I’m up! No need for that today. Goddess...” he could hear a chuckle from his brother that was already halfway down the stairs. He knew he needed to hurry if he wanted anything to eat before their 50km morning run. He’d of course win no matter what, he always did, but he could use the extra energy since his two elders always tried to beat him.

He walked downstairs, his eyes still adjusting to the bright morning sun as he felt his stomach growl. His mother laughed, a loving and kind sound, as he stepped into the giant kitchen. Him and his closest family all lived in a huge house made by the very trees that had once stood in its place.

Their family had an open door policy, so wolves, both young and old would be coming and going throughout the day both to hang out, but also to get help from their Alpha and Luna.

“Same dream as always?” Seokjin said from the table near the big windows that were overlooking the terrace. 

Taehyung sighed as he answered: “you know it brother, nothing’s changed” 

His mother looked at her youngest with sympathetic eyes, as Seokjin rolled his own at his statement.

“I told you guys you should’ve forced him to see a therapist. White wolves... he might as well have told us all he’d been kidnapped by fairies” their mother quickly turned as she threw a waffle at the broad-shouldered man. He yelled out dramatically, earning attention from both his father and Namjoon as they walked in. 

“You don’t joke about fairies Seokjin, not as long as you live under my roof” his mother said with a stern look in her eyes. 

“You never know if they’re listening in, and none of us need that kind of bad luck. As for you my dear” she said as she walked over to Taehyung, “whatever creature, white wolf or fairy, you saw that night, you’re one lucky man. You were touched by the goddess that night, and that is a blessing” 

She ruffled his dark locks, showing off the patch of white hair that had appeared in the back of his neck after that midnight run, so many years ago. 

“Are the three of you done discussing the creatures of the night? We need to get going if we wanna make time for a good run before we leave” Namjoon asked from the place he had leaned against the dark marble countertop. 

Seokjin smiled smugly, as the sun broke the tree line surrounding the house, making him look almost as golden as his eyes. He quickly rose from his seat pushing Namjoon on the way out the door. He quickly followed him, determined to get a head start. 

Taehyung on the other hand didn’t rush, he took a bite of the waffle his mother had made for him and gave her a peck on the cheek before he whispered a quiet thank you. He then slowly strutted out the kitchen and down the hall out the front door, with such confidence that made both of his parents’ smile. 

The two of them were proud of their boys. They had raised them right. They were respectful to their elders and kind to those younger than them. Every day the three of them made their hearts burst with both pride and love. Their mother sighed before she whispered, a subtle question that only her husband was supposed to hear. 

“Do you think he’ll ever recover from that night Ji-hoon? Do you think the dreams of that night will ever stop haunting him?” 

Ji-hoon pulled his mate close to his chest as he nuzzled his head in the crook of her neck, the place he had marked her 20 years earlier. He breathed in her scent of vanilla and mango, the only thing in this world that could make both him and his wolf calm. 

“I have no idea Jee, I just hope that what ever happened to him that night, will one day bring him joy” 

They looked out the grand windows watching their youngest son turn into his wolf form in a millisecond, before he sprinted toward the edge of where the forest began. He was so fast and so determined to once again beat his brothers, that he looked more like a shadow than a wolf. The two parents stood in the window and looked at their youngest disappear, a little sting of worry in both of their hearts.

[sock-to-the-third]

Artificial Condition

By Martha Wells

I like how The Murderbot Diaries has a similar episodic nature as Murderbot’s favorite serial Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon.

I’m going to try to be brief about this ~ says the joy who can’t write a chapter below 10k to save zir life.

…

Asshole Research Transport

I love how ART can be equally compromised by a fictional crew but needs Murderbot’s help for emotional context. Also, I like how ART points out Murderbot being illogical (trauma’s a bitch).

It’s very slice of lifey in a fanfic sort of way which I love. I feel like alot of authors kinda suck at writing chill monotonous moments.

Sometimes I do want it old timey slow. I once read a book from the 1920s called A Voyage to Arcturus. It loved to take its time, eating up scenery, being a little goofy. Did it move the plot very fast? Fuck no. Was it fun? Very much so.

One time, they got naked before going on a spaceship for fear of being out of fashion and there was naked wrestling.

So I like ART.

…

New Crew

I love how you can consistently count on the crew being self-annihilating sweethearts. Like… Tapan… baby.. no! TvT

I swear it’s like Murderbots hearding kittens.

Tercera (te/ter)

Def. “a gender signifier used in the group of non-corporate popitical entities known as Divarti Cluster.”

I love how it’s just like another label and it doesn’t have a specific description.

*steps up on soap-box*

Gotta admit that Murderbot labeling them “female” beforehand made me squicky.

I know sex and gender aren’t the same thing. Murderbot’s prob just referring to sex cuz programming or whatever but from a writing perspective I can’t help but ask why?

Not to Wells, this isn’t a Wells specific issue. Just why do we need to point out man, woman, male, female etc. It tells you literally nothing of what a person looks like except someone’s preconcieved notions of gender to the point where I see these and I’m like — you’re writing a book, why not describe them?

But that’s more of a me hang up with society than Artificial Condition issue. Wells doesn’t put a whole lot of time into human descriptions so it’s hard to be bothered by it.

*steps off soap-box*

Anyway, I’m happy to see more neo-pronoun rep.

ComfortUnit

I was so gun-ho being like “LET IT JOIN THE TEAAAAAM!”

Totally was never going to happen in a million years, bit of character development I’m sure Murderbot is going to go through but fuuuuuuck, I want Murderbot to have a robot friend TvT.

Ok, tbf, ART is a friend now, I’m pretty sure.

But still, Murderbot needs another bot friend to have its back.

…

Anxiety

I love how much in these books anxiety plays a roll. Sure I’ve seen robots anxious or prone to nervousness like Hemoila from Revenant Gun but it isn’t quite like this.

Like so much of Murderbot’s character is about social anxiety down to using other cameras to watch itself rather than speak face-to-face with a human.

I’m not sure how else to word that it’s like a breath of fresh air seeing this presentation of it. Also, combining it with the commentary, makes such a fun read.

Prev: All Systems Red

Sequel: Rogue Protocol

[finniestoncrane]

Hey, congrats on the milestone!! I’m a new follower but I love your writing, and can’t wait to see what else you have in store!! I was wondering if I could request a No.9, please?

A little about me:

I’m a nonbinary British (unfortunately) goth, with very sickly pale skin, freckles and a messy black mullet. I work in theatre and am a writer of poetry and plays, as well as a dancer, but I’m also very much obsessed with the death industry and ‘morbid’ interests in general. I collect bones and taxidermy, and my prized possession is my taxidermy crow, Edgar (full name Edgar Allan Crow!)

I’m autistic and suffer from depression and psychosis, but I’m generally a very confident, outgoing and fearless person, often to the point of being reckless. I’m also a huge horror fan (I even chose my name based on my favourite horror character!) and I’m the type who laughs through the gore scenes and is kind of rooting for the villain lol. That being said, I’m very much an animal lover and can’t bear to see a non-human in pain, and having been raised vegetarian I’ve actually never eaten meat. I’m greyroace but bi, so although attraction is rare for me, it could in theory be toward anyone!

I hope this wasn’t too long or short, and I can’t wait to see what wondrous writings you come up with next!

🎀 No.9: Ever Fallen In Love With Someone 🎀

tell me a little bit about yourself and i'll give you a rogue pairing a/n: oh this was easy-peasy! and thank you so much ;-; 💚 1k milestone info! 🔞minors dni🔞 • kofi • tag: finnie1k

(hey don't feel bad, depends which flavour of british you are, although i suspect if you were from anywhere but england you'd say that, source: me typing scottish every chance i get)

ah, the sickly pale goths, forever paired with the nasty crow boys lmao but even better you sound scruffy and scrappy which is literally jonathan in a little nutshell

he's a romantic soul, i think poetry and playwriting are such strong interests for him, maybe not writing them himself, but he'd love to have someone who could dedicate one to him, or write it for just him to read

i don't know why but dancing seems like such a jonathan thing. it's maybe his bouncy gremlin-like movements in asylum, or his footwraps? i don't know, he seems like he enjoyed interpretive movement before he got his leg injury

ok now we get to the real meat of the relationship: taxidermy??? crows??? yeah, i don't think he would be able to conceal his excitement about that. it would take everything in him not to beg you to make him his own little beasts for decoration in his lair

don't worry, totally normal, completely helpful, he's only super interested in your mental health so he can help you! but a fearless person? perfect for him! yeah it might annoy him at first, but he'll get used to it, and it would actually be beneficial to not have to worry about creeping you are constantly

horror movies together is your every night before bed routine now, no questions asked no arguing, that's it, especially if you're willing to out loud proclaim your love for the villain, he feels so touched

yeah jon would probably be a vegetarian now too... it's not fun to be munched on like a piece of meat so... yeah

he requires a companion, a partner in crime, kindred spirits more than an attractive based pairing, so that works for him!

[blossom-adventures]

Prompto? Ardyn?

Ooooooh… ok, ok, let me think…

From this character meme

Prompto!

First Impression - Meh, just a kid, who is friends with the Prince, I didn’t think I’d care about him, I was thinking he was going to be my least favourite of the Chocobros, that I might find him annoying or something like that

Impression Now - I couldn’t have been more wrong! Prompto is amazing! I adore his character so much and I relate to him a little too, he’s the comic relief but he can also bring me to tears in the odd occasion (I’m looking at you Episode: Prompto!)

Favourite Moment - Just one?! His battle with The Rogue in the Citadel was pretty awesome, but I think… can I just say Episode Prompto as a whole because wow! He is so good in that DLC! I love playing it

Idea for a Story - I have it planned that he and my OC in my WIP story “Guard & Glaive” become good friends, and he even confides in her about certain things

Unpopular Opinion - Unpopular opinion of the chocobo loving ray of sunshine?! Nope, got nothing

Favourite Relationship - I actually quite like the PromptoxNoctis ship, they bounce off each other really well, I just think it works

Favourite Headcanon - That Cor is the Lucian that took Prompto from the research facility, I’ve read too many Dad!Cor fics to not have that as a Headcanon for my own stories

Ardyn!

First Impression - He’s a very attractive man, ok, let me admit something here… I started following Ardyn content before I played the game, he was actually my reason for playing the game. And yes, I was mainly interested because I like the look of him, ok?

Impression Now - He’s still a very attractive man, but now I know his pain, and his suffering, and the danger about him, the… I was going to say insanity but I don’t think that works for him, but that sort of thing

Favourite Moment - “I feel I’ve earned the right to call you Noct” that whole train sequence was incredible!

Idea for a Story - I’ve always wanted to write a story where he tricks the reader into thinking he’s someone else, using that fun little ability of his

Unpopular Opinion - Like with Prompto, I don’t think I have any Unpopular opinions of him and I’ve never had any negativity in any posts I do about him either

Favourite Relationship - Other than ArdynxReader? Gilgardyn! Gilgamesh and Ardyn, top quality (and you can thank Noctglaive for that)

Favourite Headcanon - That he wear the fingerless gloves to hide scars he has from his imprisonment rather than to protect him from the sun

[twistedtummies2]

The Price May Be Right - Number 20

Welcome to “The Price May Be Right!” I’m counting down My Top 31 Favorite Vincent Price Performances & Appearances! The countdown will cover movies, TV productions, and many more forms of media. Today we move into the Top 20 for this countdown! The time has come to focus on my choice for Number 20: Egghead, from the 60s Batman Series.

In recent years, the 1960s Batman TV Series – starring Adam West & Burt Ward as the Caped Crusader and the Boy Wonder – has been making a bit of a comeback. This pleases me, because I’ve always loved the series, but for many years, the show was treated in a very backhanded and dismissive manner: people believed it ruined the world of comics, since for a long time it was blamed for the perception of comics as silly kid’s stuff and campy nonsense. Ironically, with so many comics and their adaptations nowadays growing darker and more “edgy” as time has gone on, especially on DC’s side of the market, this has led to a resurgence of popularity with the goofiness of the Silly Sixties. The 60s Batman show featured many great villains from the comics, all portrayed excellently for the time (and sometimes for ALL time) by fine actors of the period. However, it also had its fair share of original villains made just for the series itself. Most of these characters – such as Shame, the Minstrel, and Zelda the Great – never really caught on or went anywhere. A few of these original villains, however, were pretty popular, and often proved to be antagonists just as effective as such famous rogues as the Joker or the Penguin. One of the most well-known of these original villains was Vincent Price’s memorable mastermind, Egghead. His true name unknown (which was the case for most of the villains in the show, to be fair), Egghead was a supervillain who claimed to be the second smartest man in the world. His intelligence was attributed to his unusually oversized and incredibly bald cranium, which was the cause of his alias. Garbed in a dapper cream-and-gold suit, he was one of the slickest sleazebags the Dynamic Duo ever faced. Egghead lived up to his name well: not only was Price’s dialogue littered with egg puns in just about every line, but the character apparently ate nothing but eggs and bacon, and used a variety of explosive gadgets hidden inside of eggshells. From tear gas grenades to pressure-based bombs, his egg-scruciating weapons were no yolk! Of course, he’d always be caught at the end of each story, proving that the life of an outlaw was not all it was cracked up to be. …I am SO sorry, I won’t make any more egg puns, I swear. XD Anywho…Vincent always claimed that playing Egghead was one of the most fun jobs he had, and the character remains iconic, as well as one of Price’s most lauded performances. My only issue with Egghead is that, as the show went on, it felt like the character went through a sort of de-evolution: in his first two-parter appearance, Egghead basically worked alone, barring the usual band of hired mooks and his personal biographer, Miss Bacon. However, later appearances teamed him up with another original villain – Olga, Queen of the Cossacks – and it often felt like the two stepped on each other’s toes. In some episodes, Olga seemed like little more than an overblown moll; in other episodes, it seemed like Egghead had gone from being a crafty crook in his own right to just becoming a bumbling stooge for the Queen of the Cossacks. Still, the character was fun no matter how smart he actually seemed. Fun fact: not so long before his sad departure, Adam West visited my hometown for our local ComicCon. I sadly did not get the opportunity to meet him, but a friend of mine did, and agreed to ask a question for me. They asked Adam West what it was like working with Vincent Price. West apparently answered: “Well, it was exactly what you would imagine it would be like, working with a man who loved his wine, loved his art, and loved his work. In that order.” How I wish I could have heard those golden words firsthand. Tomorrow, the countdown continues with Number 19!

[angelofthepage]

Reacting to BATDR Part 3

Following along with SuperHorrorBro’s Bendy and the Dark Revival playthrough, here’s our thoughts after part 3. I’ve got a little less to say since a lot of my initial impressions are out of the way, but there’s still stuff to say. Warning, the beginning is a little critical, but towards the end I turn it around.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hv89eaE63Z8 Here’s the video so that you can follow along.

OKAY SO GHOST GIRL-I don’t like her right off the bat. Listen, I think she’d probably be a fine character, I’m not as critical of the cartoon herself, I’m more critical of the enemy’s behavior. She just pops up out of nowhere and SCREAMS before rushing you, and I just, oooooh no, oh I cannot, oh that cannot be fun to fight against. I could not keep my cool in playing through that, I’ve jumped every single time Carley has shown up. I’m also just, a little disappointed with the way this was implemented in terms of narrative? Like, her creator there, Jane Todd, there is something about her that I probably would’ve found very relatable as a teenager, but I don’t know what to make of it now. Okay Jane, please, explain to me how Carley being a member of the Butcher Gang works. What does she add to their dynamic? Why is she a ghost, what’s the backstory on that? What kind of story is she built for? If I had more details about Carley and what makes her work within these cartoons, I would probably love her. I really hope this is expanded upon, ‘cause like, we already know so little about the Butcher Gang, I’d LIKE to get more characterization on them and on this fourth member but...she leaves something to be desired. I think get the sense the writing on this was supposed to be about sexism or just general bullying in the art department, another underdog story gone wrong like we had with Buddy, but it doesn’t really land for me.

When I say I would’ve related to this as a teenager, I was the only girl in a group of guys, and they treated me like utter garbage most of the time, even when I was dating one of them. We did a lot of roleplaying back then, and as the only girl, and the only one with a female character, I was consistently stuck playing the damsel in distress, since they all had to be a bunch of Sonic DBZ knock-offs and fight each other, and I just, wasn’t allowed to participate. If I tried, I was never allowed to have a victory or partake in weaving the story, it sucked. So like, yeah, I empathize with Jane a lot in wanting to see your character succeed and be appreciated, especially after someone’s hurt you and told you you weren’t good enough. But there’s something about the way it’s done here that just, doesn’t vibe with me. And part of that is also that I’ve just, read the Crack Up Comics? And I really like them? And we’re now three chapters in and there has been no appearance of any toons besides the butcher gang? Actually, no, it’s not even the full butcher gang, I don’t think we’ve seen Barley/Fisher at all this playthrough, what’s up with that? But specifically with the comics, we have SO MANY great cartoon characters that already exist, and none of them have so much as shown up here yet. When I was speculating about the fourth member of the gang, I thought it would be someone from there, like Ruby Goldberg or Miss Twisted, or maybe we’d finally get a cartoon Alice that had gone rogue, but instead we kind of have a character that feels like she came out of nowhere, like she was made to be a new enemy type as the top priority. And that’s kind of disappointing, but also fitting. The development cycle on the original Butcher Gang had their monster forms designed before the cartoons, it feels like Carley was made the same way, like she’s a ghost because that functions in a cool way from a game development perspective. It’s a shame, I like her cartoon design a lot more, I kind of hope it shows up somewhere else.

Also not sure how I feel about the ink demon. Not really loving the teeth. Like teeth in and of themselves are find, but the way they’re curved and stick out is just, not so much scary as it is odd when he gets up in your face. I’m preferring Beast Bendy’s teeth as it stands, and that’s really what this design feels like, an in-between of the ink demon and Beast Bendy. I’m not opposed to that, that’s quite clever, but I get the sense Wilson and the Ink Demon aren’t one and the same this time either. This is kind of dashing my speculation that the ink demon has any sort of a soul, I had suspected some part of him was made of Wally or Joey since the first game, and it just, feels like he’s a generic evil force. He’s very creepy, quite terrifying, and the characterization isn’t what I expected, but I don’t dislike him, it’s just taking some getting used to. I was expecting a little more sass and mischief.

Speaking of Wally, glad to see he’s back! It’s still only in note form, but that’s okay, still happy he’s been acknowledged! That is an interesting note, all our previous characters are just notes so far. Sammy, Shawn, Tom, and Wally, no audio for them yet, just words. I do hope we get to hear at least some of them soon. Also love that Tom called the ink machine his, that’s important. His note gave me many feels.

Speaking of characters though, I LOVE Porter?! Oh my gosh he’s so much FUN! He’s eccentric, a little silly, adventurous, clumsy, very Cheshire Cat in nature, and I didn’t see that coming, it’s refreshing. I think I’m right that he’ll come back to upgrade us later on besides this one, but the fact that he gives us the Bendy equivalent of Splatoon 3′s zipcaster is kind of awesome. Flow is a cool ability, I wonder who wrote the name for it on the wall, or where he learned the ability, and so much more. I have a friend who was already smitten with Porter upon his reveal in the trailer, I look forward to seeing her reaction to him now.Just, great character introduction, I would fight for him.

Also, small thing, LOVE the Searchers in this one! Oh my gosh their models are so much nicer, the movement are interesting, they’re just, SO COOL?! I love this so so much, Searchers my beloveds. Surprised it took them this long to return.

The Artists’ Rest area horrifies me. Joey Drew really said ‘don’t leave work, sleep here’ and I will not be over that for a long time, sir you suck. I’ve talked with friends about this when we saw this area in the trailer, the fact that this sounds a lot like something Walt Disney almost did just, oooooh, oh man, Joey PLEASE- But man, the employees here sure did have a lot going on. I can’t believe they had time for gambling, partying, and hook-ups with all the work they had to do.

I will say, I LOVE all the new cartoon character art on the walls of the studio. Alice on the swing is high up there, but I’m smiling at all of it, it’s great to see them all again and feeling so alive. Also love that we have cutouts of multiple characters rather than just Bendy, that feels good. The toons are a delight in many forms. One thing I’m surprised by is just how little we’re seeing of the toons though. Like they’re there in the decor, but we haven’t seen a single Boris. I noticed it in trailer that there were no Boris corpses to be found, same with the Butcher Gang, and I have to ask, why? Their corpses littered Heavenly Toys in the first game to show just how wicked Malice was, and on top of it, the living ones attacked us frequently. Here it feels like we’re mostly fighting lost ones, and our main toony enemy is Carley, that’s not the shift I expected. 

I am kind of glad the audio logs have labels now that feature a vague idea of what they’re about. Wilson’s snake analogy leaves me with questions, but Nathan’s whole thing about feeling haunted and no one wanting to see the exhibit is so sad. Man, Joey’s work just carries so many ghosts with it, doesn’t it? Ghosts come up a lot this chapter, we also got that note that seems to allude to a new enemy type, shadowy creatures that aren’t fully reborn from the depths. Oh gosh am I nervous to deal with those.

Curious to see what comes next. I’m still really liking it, but I’m a bit nervous. The fact that some people have already beaten the game in five hours does not bode well for me not getting spoiled, but also, that’s not a long time to bring all the pieces together in a narrative like this. I’m hopeful that this game will answer more questions than it presents. Didn’t think I’d be concerned about that, but after the books doing the opposite, maybe I am a little. Oh, one last thing, we have our first repeat name, we have a guy named Bill who works at JDS, not to be confused with the Bill from TLO, that’s gonna be a thing worth tagging later if he ends up prominent in the fandom works.

[boo-moved]

For Iffat!

What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do?

How easy is it to earn their trust?

How easy is it to earn their mistrust?

What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?

What animal do they fear most?

B) What inspired you to create them?

C) Did you have trouble figuring out where they fit in their own story?

D) Have they always had the same physical appearance, or have you had to edit how they look?

F) What do you feel when you think of your OC (pride, excitement, frustration, etc)?

J) Did you have to manipulate or exclude canon factors to allow them to create their character?

HAIII THANK YOU

What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do?

It depends on the reason fr fr, Iffat will sit as still as a fucking rock to snipe something out of range, but she also can't listen to people longer than five minutes unless it's something super serious. And even with sniping she uses the hand not on her gun to fidget.

How easy is it to earn their trust?

Before the betrayal? Very easy!! Just be nice to her and treat her like how she is and boom, trust

After? Fuck it takes a WHILE for it, the only reason Abelard got the trust was because he saved her the first meeting, that's it- there's a reason she has it so she can feel the heartbeats and smell their scents within a mile. (overwhelming)

How easy is it to earn their mistrust?

HAHAH, hard as hell. Unless you hurt someone else. She will kill you for that.

Otherwise she is a very logical thinker, seven steps ahead of anything else while still retaining her empathy. If you did it because you saw no other option, she will offer herself for it and understand that not everyone has her own brain.

What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?

Grease, grinding gears, the thrum of a motor beating next to her like a lover. She loves it, lives for it.

What animal do they fear most?

She has never met an animal outside the ones she saw on Mars' ring, she doesn't like flying ones.

B) What inspired you to create them?

I don't know……… Rogue Trader gave me a sniper to play, and so I was like at first: "OH COOL A PIRATE CHARACTER WHO GOT IMPRISONED AND TORTURED… EMO TIME" and then she came into my brain as a 5'2 drop of sunshine who has seen the unimaginable and decides to try and be good despite it

C) Did you have trouble figuring out where they fit in their own story?

Surprisingly no!! She was picked up from jail and thrust into fate, touched by chaos and born to build.

D) Have they always had the same physical appearance, or have you had to edit how they look?

Pretty much!! She's stayed the same with her mech eyes and limbs and long red hair....

F) What do you feel when you think of your OC (pride, excitement, frustration, etc)?

Adoration, glee

J) Did you have to manipulate or exclude canon factors to allow them to create their character?

NO, WARHAMMER IS SO GOOD FOR THIS I LOVE IT. I did so much fun research to make her

Here’s what I’ve been redrawing btw 😭😭