#MY LATEST TAV WAS SOMEONE ASTARION WOULD ENJOY MORE

[engagemythrusters]

what is absolutely hilarious to me is that you can make the same decisions playing Tav as you do playing ghe Dark Urge and yet Durge automatically gets higher approval from Astarion

[fangsyouverymuch01]

Just friends

Summery: The hero of Baldur's Gate greatest battlefield is now drunkenly returning home from the tavern because your connection to the arcane world is dying, and it has been for months. Adding to it, is your unresolved feelings from a certain vampire you've sworn to forget.

Rolan and Lia, aiding you in your search for answers, are determined to divert your mind from troubles. Unbeknownst to you, this night is destined to change everything.

Pairing: Astarion x f!tav, Astarion x f!reader , Rolan x reader

Warnings: Fightning, sort of depressed reader, drinking, Astarion being a prick

Tags: Slow burn, friends to lovers

Note: This took way too long to write, and tbh I'm scared to publish it. Had a hard time coming up with a plot that would make sense (and yes this is the underdark/menzoberranzan fic)

Nevertheless, hope you enjoy and stick around for more parts in the future.

In front of you is an array of literature varying from books, scrolls and notes. Just like yesterday and the day before that. Picking up yet another scroll and unrolling it, the words painted on it turns into a blur. Arcane symbols dance before your eyes but the contents of the page escapes your fleeting mind and it drifts to past memories of Moonrise Towers. 

“...And all I had to do was not fall for you… Which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart,” he pauses, searching for the right words to continue. “You’re incredible. You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”

Stunned by his confession, your own voice momentarily failed you. The Elf spoke again, revealing a truth that cut through your heart like a blade.“Being close to someone - any kind of intimacy - was something I performed to lure people back for him.”

Astarion further explains his train of thought, you could see his mouth moving but not a word reached your ears. Sadness, confusion, happiness and anger; the emotions mixed and collided within you. Was your relationship built on lies? Had you somehow forced him to sleep with you? It was all so much.

“I don't know how else to be with someone, No matter how much I’d like to.” 

You’d decided to remain just friends, and it had felt like the right choice. Liberating even, seeing Asterion grow into a person no longer controlled by fear. But now, you wallowed in selfishness due to your aching heart. Now it is the thing that keeps you from focusing on the task ahead. Now it is the thing keeping your from nights embrace, your body twisting and turning when the moon shone through the curtains. Now it is the numb feeling whilst faceless men sing your name between your legs. The decision, made with the intention of preserving your friendship, now felt as liberating as a chain strung to your neck. 

Moreover, you haven't seen him in weeks -  or could it be months? The passage of time blurs and certainly eludes you. Yet, effortlessly, his image flits into your head - bouncy white curls, piercing crimson eyes, a sharp nose and that godsdamn smirk. Interchangeable in your memory - forever young - he remains a vivid specter that refuses to fade.

Breaking your train of thought, there is a tap on your shoulder, a figure crouching over you to peer at the discoveries revealed in the scroll. 

“Found anything of interest?” Rolan spoke, eyeing you from above. 

“Ehm no, just lost in thought.” you replied, attempting to shake off the lingering memories that had clouded your focus. 

“Well, neither have I.” he puffed out a breath of air, “My best bet is to return to the House of Grief for more answers so I could study the mirror you spoke off.”

“I’m not sure they’d warmly welcome me back after my latest visit.” you let out a strained chuckle, struck by a memory of  Viconas lifeless person as Shadowhearts struck the merciless final blow to her chest. 

Since your time in the House of Grief, your bond with magic has slowly dwindled. The once-familiar currents of arcane energy now seemed distant. Magic had been an extension of you, and its absence felt akin to a cruel mutilation and you were desperate to feel magic coursing through your veins once more. Your desperation had led you here - Sorcerous Sundries, for any clue or hope that you might become whole again.

"Anyhow, have you heard from Gale yet?" you inquired, seeking a distraction from your thoughts.

"He deemed Waterdeep fruitless in our search and should be arranging plans to continue in Neverwinter as we speak," Rolan replied, his eyes pacing the floorboards beneath him. "Maybe we should pause our search for today; the sun is setting, and you, my friend, are in desperate need of a drink." His suggestion hung in the air, a respite offered amidst your futile search for answers. 

You had no energy to protest, you truly wanted to go, you really did. But what you needed was to dive into the mountains of untouched texts sprawled in a ring in front of you. 

Lazily tracing the arcane figures, partly lost in deliberation you answer “Thank you for the offer but I shouldn’t, you go and I’ll stay here.”

"Come on, just one drink. It won't solve all our problems, but it might provide a momentary escape," he insisted, recognizing the heaviness in your gaze. "We can resume our search tomorrow with clearer minds. Trust me, it's what you need right now."

A defeated sign escapes your lips “Fine, one drink but no more than that”. 

Laying a victorious touch on your arm, the tiefling grinned, "That's the spirit!" Helping you up, he proceeded, "The Elf Song in an hour; I need to run something by Lia first." With determined steps, he led you away from your search for answers in the pile of books. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The warm light emanating from the Elfsongs' painted windows cast a glow over your figure as you linger outside the bustling door. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses weave together, that should beckon you inside but it doesn't. Nothing seems to pique your interest these days. The hero of Baldurs Gate was but a mere shell of what bards sang about and the thought of being recognized, of eyes filled with anticipation that lingers for extraordinary tales to be told - you can't stand it. 

Adding to your dread, are the invasive questions about your companions - about Astarion. Head spinning and lips slowly drooping to frown, you instinctively recoil from the entrance. 

With a heavy sigh, you reach into your bag, fingers wrapping around a familiar flask. The cool metal brings a small comfort, and in contrast your throat burns as you gulp down liquid courage. 

Stealing yourself against the prying questions and the weight of everyone's expectations, you push open the tavern door, stepping into the warm embrace of the tavern, where Rolan and Lia await, immersed in their own stories. You offer them a weak smile as you approach the booth. 

“There you are, I almost thought you wouldn’t show but I’m glad to be proven wrong.”

“Come, sit!” Lia urges, patting the cushion beside her. As you settle into the booth, you can't help but notice the curious eyes around you.

Gods no.

Instinctively, your finger twirls and you mutter a spell to cast disguise self, only to be reminded of your uselessness. A tinge of frustration tightens your jaw, quickly masked by a forced smile. You divert your gaze, hoping to shield yourself from the unwanted attention. 

“What’s your poison for today?” Lia asks, a mischievous smile spreading from cheek to cheek. Her breath smells of alcohol; Lia and Rolan had clearly begun drinking ahead of you. Not that you could judge them, having indulged in your trusted flask outside the tavern minutes ago. 

“I’ll have what you’ve had.”

“Coming right up!” Lia responds, her enthusiasm undeterred. She signals the bartender, and soon enough, a trio of drinks arrives at the table. 

Rolan is the first to grip the glass and then clear his throat, “To us,  and Gale - and hope that tomorrow will give us more answers.” 

One drink turns into four drinks, and at some point, you lose track of both time and the units you’ve allowed to warm your gullet. Honestly it’s quite funny, why did you worry so much before? Silly you with silly thoughts! Almost as silly as Rolan’s eyes focused on your neck. He looks funny with his eyebrows furrowed, and a chuckle escapes your lips at the sight.

“You’ll get wrinkles if you keep staring at my neck like that, Rolan.”

“I did no such thing!” he retorts as a flush creeps up on the tiefling's cheeks.

Lia heartily laughs, swaying a bit, and offers her hand to you. “Join me for a dance, will you?” The music in the tavern entices you and despite the blurred lines of inebriation, you take Lia’s hand and step into the lively dance floor.

Lia practically dragged you through the crowded tavern, Rolan following closely behind to his best abilities. The dance floor was filled with twirling bodies, in rhythm with the bard's melodies. Pulling your arm up, Lia spins and chuckles as you reach the bards scene. Rolan, with a playful twinkle in his eyes, reaches the two of you and joins the dance. The world seems to sway with the music and for the first time in a long time, a genuine smile spreads across your face. 

As you moved to the music, you sensed Rolans’ proximity. His hand found its way to the small of your back, guiding you through the intricate steps of the dance. The unfamiliar warmth of his hand against your skin was a stark contrast to the memories of Asterion's cool touch.The bard's music kept on playing, the tunes bouncing off the plucked strings, the odor of alcohol on his breath, and hot uncontrolled bodies clashing against your person -  Gods, its too much. You can't stay a minute longer or you might suffocate. 

“I need some air,” you mumble and offer an apologizing smile, excusing yourself as the dance continues without you. 

“Wait!” a muffled voice calls out, but you pretend that you’re too far off to hear. 

Faces blurred into a sea of strangers, and the lively chatter became an indistinguishable hum. Your breath quickened, and you couldn't shake the feeling of faceless men and women judging your every step. Because now they know - they know that you were no hero of Baldur's gate, just another drunk who couldn’t even cast a simple spell to disguise herself from embarrassment. 

Pathetic. 

As you stepped out into the cool night air, the contrast between the warmth of the dance floor and the refreshing chill outside sent shivers down your spine. Crouching down you plant your hands to your knees, trying to catch your breath and ease your mind. 

A moment later, the tavern door swung open abruptly, an curly haired man emerging as he wrestled with another almost feral one. The creature thrashed and snarled at the curly haired man as he strained against the frenzied movements. Caught off guard, you stood up in the shadow beside the entrance, your breath hitching again as you observed the scene unfold. 

Seizing the opportunity to make sense of the situation, you assertively approached the struggling men, dagger clutched and ready strike if needed. The curly-haired man's eyes flickered toward you and your gaze met his.

Deep crimson eyes, ivory curls, and are those fangs?

No, that can't be.

"Astarion?" you uttered, your voice a hushed whisper that sliced through the night, your eyes fixed on the elf's face in utter disbelief. There he was, right before you.

Astarion's attention shifted to the rabid man, deftly maneuvering to subdue him. He restrained the creature, halting any further erratic movements. With precision, Astarion extracted a flask from his belt, causing the man's struggles to intensify. Despite the increased resistance, Astarion's actions remained calculated and exact.

With the man momentarily contained, Astarion secured him in place with one hand, the other retrieving a flask. He raised it to his mouth, a subtle glint of fangs emerging as he skillfully removed the lid with his teeth.

"Hello," the rogue spoke, pausing to inject the man with the unfamiliar substance. The feral struggles ceased, and Astarion continued, his tone now imbued with a nuanced warmth, "darling."

Stunned you remain constrained where you stood. This is real, Astarion is here after days, weeks and months of him plaguing your thoughts every waking moment. Your mind races, trying to process the surreal present. A rumble in your stomach seems to pull you out of your trance, nausea spreading in your throat. 

Keep. it. down. 

“Care to help or do you intend to stand there and just gawk?”

Once more the door beside you swung open, a tall figure emerges with swaying strands of long hair catching in the wind, intent on reaching the paralyzed man and Astarion. 

“We said no killing, remember?" he spoke.

"Oh, my apologies, brother. I must have forgotten our little agreement when I was wrestling the feral dog whilst you were nowhere to be seen.”

At that moment, you recognized the man - Leon. His expression remained stoic, though a flicker of irritation crossed his features. "Your theatrics aren't amusing, Astarion. We need to keep them alive; this is not the time nor place for you to display your unique methods."

You finally had a surge to act, fumbled in your bag and searched for any potion or scroll that could help. A glass vial of what seemed to be a healing potion met your fingers, and you pulled it out, unscrewing the cap with shaky hands. 

“Here take this,” you called out, holding the potion aloft, offering a forced smile amidst the charged atmosphere. 

As you step forward to give Leon the vial, Rolan stumbles out the tavern door, tipsy and eyes searching for something in the night. You’d completely forgotten about Rolan and Lia, they’d probably been worried since you hadn’t returned. His eyes widened at the chaotic scene before him, and he instinctively moved to stand in front of you, a protective gesture. His hand flickered with a small flame, ready to defend against any potential threat. 

"What in the hells is happening here?" Rolan demanded, a mix of concern and bewilderment in his voice.

Before anyone could respond, Astarion let out a small laugh, one that you couldn't seem to decipher the meaning of. What was so funny? Rolan certainly wasn't amused, and the flame rose higher from his palm at the elf's dismissive laugh. Leon's gaze moved to Rolan, his hands raising in a gesture of peace, showing that they were no threat to him or you.

“Got yourself a knight in shining armor, have you now?” Astarion remarked, a sly grin playing on his lips.

Knight in shining armor? The words stung, and a spark of anger flared within you. Rolan didn't need to save you nor did you want him to. Opening your mouth to retort, Leon interjected, his voice firm and commanding.

“Astarion, don’t,” Leon snapped at him, a stern edge to his voice. He then looked directly at you, his expression softening. “We don’t want to fight you. Let's find a quieter spot to talk, and we’ll explain everything.”

You nodded, the tension in the air making it clear that this was not the time for confrontation. Rolan, still wary but trusting your judgment, lowered the flame in his palm. With cautious glances exchanged between the group, you began to move away from the chaotic scene, guided by Leon's lead to a more secluded spot where answers awaited. 

[tavyliasin]

Part 1 of Haarlep's Festive Party is now out!

The rest will follow in the next day or so, it's a fight to finish it because it grew so long, but I do hope you enjoy the appetiser~

Mind the tags, I have my usual beloved tropes of Haarlep's aphrodisiac shenanigans, bondage, power play, a little pain play, some devilishly delightful toys and new outfits, oh and this time? Gale is joining the party!

Smut below the cut with some samples, the full work for now is only on AO3 but I shall see about posting it here in chapters when it is completed too~ Happy holidays darlings, in whatever ways you do or do not celebrate~

-------- -------- The Fiend's Feast -------- --------

“Are you nearly ready to go?” Tav’s voice called through the thin fabric of Gale’s tent as he fussed over his outfit. “I still need a few minutes… Look, you all go on ahead without me, I can soon catch up.” He looked in the mirror again and shook his head. He felt ridiculous, and not at all prepared, but he was not going to miss another party. “I will be there, I promise you that.” Outside the tent, Tav shrugged, looking to her companions. “I feel ridiculous.” Astarion complained, lifting the hems of his revealing outfit. “I don’t know how I let the pair of you talk me into this, again. ”

Beside him, Halsin merely grinned, a firm slap to the rear causing the pale elf to leap from the floor in shock with a loud jingling of bells. “I think you look perfect, my heart. I fear it is my dignity taking the hit now.” “Hold still.” Tav stood on her tiptoes to reach up to Halsin as he bent just slightly for her, letting her adjust the large antlers fixed to his head before kissing his red-painted nose. “There. Much better.” The druid smiled, unable to hide his feelings whenever Tav lavished gentle affection towards him, even as Astarion huffed with exaggerated jealousy. “It would be much easier were I to be permitted use of my wild shape.” “That would be cheating.” Karlach gave him a gentle elbow in the ribs, her horn decorated with extra branches and shiny baubles. “We’re going to be late if we stand around talking here all night.” Wyll appeared beside her, linking arms, similar festive items adorning his own curved horns, ribbons sewn carefully through his hair. “Shall we?”

Lae’zel and Shadowheart were already walking on ahead, having some kind of heated argument that Tav and the others couldn’t hear. Karlach watched them with concern. “Maybe we should keep a closer eye on them, before someone gets hurt.” “Oh I think that is their plan, but I wouldn’t worry about anything permanent .” Astarion smirked, as he watched the realisation dawn on the tiefling’s face. 

“Well, let’s not keep the host waiting any longer. I’m curious what all this is about, anyway.” Tav smiled, entwining her fingers with those of her lovers either side of her. The memory of Haarlep’s last party was still fresh in her mind, and her body, and she couldn’t wait to find out what the rest of the night might have in store for them all. ----

“I hate you. You know that?” Raphael sneered, even as he allowed Haarlep to continue as they pleased, covering his wings with white feathers. Well, allowed was perhaps not the most accurate word as he was once more bound - quite literally - by their latest scheme. “Yes, yes, hellfire, brimstone, flay the flesh from my bones. I was hoping you might play the part a little better, Archdu- ” They paused halfway through his title, a far more wicked grin crossing their features. “ Archangel .” They finished on the last row of feathers, checking how firm the golden ropes and vicious daggers pinning his wings spread and open against the metal support were, ensuring he wouldn’t bother struggling. They floated back on a current of magic to properly admire their work, checking the book they summoned to their hand to ensure that everything was just right. Raphael was in his cambion form already, horns painted with gold with a large ornate ring suspended on fine thread between them as a glittering halo. He was dressed in a pure white robe that stopped midway down his thigh. Half of his chest was equally exposed, and his hands were bound with a thin but impressively strong golden rope in a mockery of prayer. A liberal application of golden glitter made his entire form appear to sparkle amidst the twinkling lights as he was held aloft at the top of an unreasonably large evergreen tree. Decorated soul coins hung from ribbons in the higher branches, out of reach of where most of the guests would be in the expansive hall below. The rest of the tree bore a variety of garish baubles, patterns of magical fire and dancing light cantrips being constantly cast by debtors hidden beneath the base, barely able to see from the ribbon-tied boxes they were secured inside, under strict orders not to let the decorations flicker or fade for even a moment. “Now, all you need do is sing .” Haarlep made a swift motion with their hand, their lovely little item buried deep inside Raphael suddenly coming to life and drawing out a prolonged whine from his lips. “Hmmm…you can do better.” Another motion sent the short mild shock of lightning through the pins piercing specific points up the cambion’s back, including several in the most sensitive points just above his tail and at the point his wings joined near his shoulders. This time, the noise from him hit a higher pitch. “Much better.” Haarlep smirked with satisfaction at the disappointed sigh as they left him without any stimulation again, only the feeling of what was there, the pained anticipation of never knowing when they’d next activate their little toys. “Now, you be nice up there, and you might just get your present later~” Their wings stretched in a lazy mimicry of flying as the magic carried them back to the floor. They noted the perfect view, if a guest were to stand in just the right spot beneath the tree, they would see everything . “Here. Hang that silly plant right here.” He motioned to one of the debtors who was helping decorate the hall, stringing the mistletoe on a fine thread they conjured from the high ceiling above. ---

--- Some time later

--- --- “Oh, right, mine’s last then.” She nervously teased the bow open, the paper falling away to reveal two items. The first was a dark flask, the glass itself looking like warm flames were moving within it, a thicker liquid swirling inside. “Do be careful with that now, Little Rat, do not get greedy . Just a drop or two in a drink should be more than potent enough, when you aren’t able to take it from the source.” At those words, they leaned in close tilting her chin up with a single claw and kissing her deeply, a sweeter passion to it, she might have been forgiven for thinking there was just a touch of genuine emotion. “Now, why don’t you look at the other half of your gift.” Their hand drifted down her arm, lifting her wrist as she still held the silk bag by the drawstrings. She passed the bottle of what was now rather obviously distilled aphrodisiac from the incubus themselves over to Halsin to hold for a moment as she began to pull the object from within the fabric. “This is…well, I assume it’s similar to other items you have?” “Not precisely.” They ran their own finger up the length of the decidedly phallic object, coloured deep red with familiar ridges along it. “Right now, it bears Raphael’s likeness , as you can tell. However, you can have it take the form of others, should you wish. All you need do is make a little deal with them - similar to my own, but far simpler. Just use it and kiss them while it is inside you, speaking their name whilst holding it will then transform it into their form.” “What’s the catch?” She eyed them suspiciously as they continued to caress the toy, squeezing at the tip for good measure. “When it’s in their shape, saying their name again while holding it will allow them to feel everything you do with it, much like you feel it if I take your form.” They grinned and dug a sharp nail just below the tip, and Tav once again heard that sound from above. “That…” She began, holding the toy in her hand as she had an idea form. “Haarlep.” She said once, watching the fiend’s eyes widen for a moment as they toy changed in size and shape, the hue changing to a dark tan. “So you did attune it to yourself when you made it, you cheeky devil~” Astarion winked at the incubus, watching the subtle changes in their face. “Haarlep.” Tav repeated, looking them in the eye as she took the item in her hand and began to run her own fingers up and down the length. “It is you…but not the one we know.” The incubus touched the toy quickly. “Raphael.” They uttered, in a hushed tone. “Do not think on that too much, Little Thief, some things even you should not steal.” They put the toy back in the silk bag for her, tying the string. “Something for later , you will have little need of it tonight.” ---

[realfinemood]

Template by arcandoria / Icons bundle from gaylockpick

Finally finished the game recently after almost 200 hours playing my angry little barbarian fighter and have so many thoughts to put down before I start the next in my long list of planned Tavs. Because this game has eaten my brain. I'm probably also going to make a post on her different companions relationships later. Brecca has lived in my brain 6+ years from D&D so on the off chance anyone else is interested, have a lot of babbling about this AU version of her!

(Spoilers including the end of the game!)

Backstory: Brecca grew up in her mother's tavern in a halfling village, where most people were happy and carefree and the biggest worries were that you weren't up to date on the latest gossip. As a kid with anger issues and not the greatest social skills, Brecca very much didn't fit in with that. The only talent she had to speak of was fighting, whether just for the hell of it or to protect her only real friend in the village, a budding con artist (who the tiefling kids all remind her of).

When a man came into the village one day with promises to make that skill useful, she left with him, ending up in a barbarian tribe of sorts, where she was taught to fight beyond scrapping and bar fights. She didn't ask many questions about who exactly they were fighting, enjoying finally having something she was good at doing. It wasn't until a raid where the target was her own village that she realized who exactly she'd joined up with, and went into a frenzied rage, killing her party and any of the others she could find.

In d&d she ran after that and spent a few months isolating herself, doing odd jobs occasionally but mostly just developing a massive guilt complex. In bg3, the very first place she ventured into resulted in being abducted and tadpoled. Yay distraction!

Personality: Brecca is trying to figure out how to be a Good Person in the aftermath of stumbling into being a not so great one. In theory, that would be trying to help everyone and keep her rage in check. In reality, it's a lot of attempting the most peaceful solution and then murdering a lot when that inevitably falls through. She's not the smartest and definitely not the best at talking or reading people, made worse by the fact that she knows she's not and therefore doesn't trust her own judgement.

Protecting her friends, protecting children, and murdering the fuck out of anyone enslaving people are the things she's definitely figured out as North on her moral compass. The rest are more a moral "rough notes copied off the people she values."

(It's also why she spends the entirety of act 3 pissed as fuck and determined as hell to help Lae'zel free Orpheus. Does anything she's done matter if the reason she can do it is that someone is chained up and having their power used to protect her?)

She spends a good two acts trying to be a hero like Wyll. In the end she settles for trying to do her best, protecting the people she loves, and letting other people be the self sacrificing hero.

Fighting: Brecca is surrounded by tall people and it's very inconvenient that they can get places faster. She has solved this problem in three ways. 1) Fling self, 2) fling weapon, and finally 3) fling weapon and teleport self with whatever the weapon hits. Bonus points if the weapon is twice her size. Rather appropriately, by the time they fought Cazador she had enough combined movement to get across the whole platform and free Astarion in one turn. And then everything else in the scene also went super great don't worry about it.

Party: Brecca has absolutely no fucking clue how she got appointed leader. Her skill set beyond "get angry and hit things" is occasionally threaten people into submission. Half the time she finds the end of quests before realizing there's a beginning. Two of her three favorite people are the murder hobos and her knowledge of magic and gods is non-existent. Wyll is right there guys. Please make better choices.

Anyways.

Astarion is the permanent party member and was even before she caught feelings.

In act 1, the party shuffled around more, with Gale taking a field trip to the creche and Karlach taking out a goblin camp. But the main group was definitely Astarion, Wyll, and Lae'zel. In act 2, the party was almost exclusively Astarion, Wyll, and Shadowheart. In act 3, Lae'zel reclaimed her spot and Wyll took turns with Shadowheart. If it wasn't clear, even with the multiclassing happening, the party theme is a lot of "Hit things really hard a whole lot before they have a chance to fight back. Also magic I guess, that's what scrolls are for right?"

Ending: Brecca made good on her promise to Lae'zel and freed Orpheus, somehow to the surprise of the Emperor despite being very clear about her plan to do so and how much she did not trust the Emperor and hated what he was doing. However, she absolutely did not spend all that time fighting to not become a mindflayer only to voluntarily become one at the last moment and resigned herself to Lae'zel hating her for letting Orpheus play martyr instead. Lae'zel didn't seem to blame her in the end - while Brecca and Astarion got Orpheus to the brain, Lae'zel took care of killing the Emperor for her (while Shadowheart kept everything else from killing her in the meantime).

Post-adventure, Brecca plans on helping Astarion with their 7000 new spawn children in the Underdark, while trying to find a way to let him walk in the sun again. (That, and shoving Dammon at her new gnome friends so that they can put the pieces they already have together to make Karlach a new heart.) Eventually she might actually make her way back home to her mom and best friend, who, true to voice line, will absolutely never believe any of this.