#an annoying bard who's hard to hit

[mmothmanners]

@bowl-o-queerios Why it’s as easy as insane dexterity and items! Behold his nonsense:

[cavegirlpoems]

A story from back when I played D&D. It might have been 3.5 or pathfinder or fantasycraft or one of that ilk. Might even have been 4e. It was like a decade ago.

So. Standard D&D. A party of bold adventurers of diverse origins and skillsets gets together to explore a perilous dungeon and stop a cartoonish baddy. The usual.

I end up building a fairly typical character for me. A goblin Rogue/Assassin. A stealth/melee build designed to get the drop on an enemy, do a bunch of rapid damage, and then fuck off.

She was lawful evil, and firmly in the team-fortress-two-sniper school of "You know who has a lot of feelings? Men what bludgeon their wives to death with a golf trophy. Professionals have standards." school of being a mercenary. I think I even did an aussie accent.

Anyway her schtick was that she'd noticed 'Adventurers' got to do as much violence as they wanted without social consequences, and she loved violence! So she was gonna do a stint as an adventurer, so once she was done she could go home with a big sack of gold to spend on booze and cake and hot girls. But right now she was on the job, so she was an extremely professional team player with a strict code of conduct. Always be honest with the team, follow the plan, don't mess things up for the team, split the loot evenly. Standards.

Verna was a horrible efficient little murder gremlin who was also proudly guild-certified. * * *

Now, another PC was a chaotic neutral gnome bard who was leaning hard on the 'gnomes are amusingly racist to goblins and kobolds and think this is funny and endearing' thing. He teased Verna a bunch about being green and ugly, which she studiously ignored because - remember - she had Professional Standards.

Anyway, there was a human NPC we met that she didn't like, saying he was a bit stupid and very annoying. Our gnome bard decided it would be very funny to use one of his enchantment spells to make Verna suddenly horny for him and watch what happened.

Verna sees the gnome who keeps fucking with her walk up, wave his hands and babble some arcane nonsense, and now she has weird funny feelings she can't explain. She does some thinking and concludes that she'll pay the human for a snog later, because right now this guy's just obviously cast a spell to mess with her mind, which was Not Okay. Of course, she had Professional Standards, so...

She walks up to our gnome friend and basically informs him: "Hi! I know you just did some magical brainwashing on me, and I am not going to tolerate this! However, because we're in a team together, and I don't want this to become a problem, I am going to very generously allow you to settle the matter with me. We will have a bout of single combat to first blood, and then whoever wins I will consider the matter settled and my honour satisfied, and you won't do that again, and we won't mention it. This is a very kind offer of mine, because I have Standards; where I come from the normal response would be to say nothing and strangle you in your sleep tonight."

And our gnome, who is a spellcaster not a combatant, looks at this and decides he doesn't want to get shown up by her, and basically tells her that if she doesn't like getting messed with she can go back to the goblin village, and laughs at her.

So. Shrug. Quickdraw as a free action. I get a surprise round. You're flat footed, so it's easy to hit and I get sneak attack damage. 3/4 of his health is gone. Initiative. He says he wants to say sorry. I respond that he can say that when it gets to his initiative count, but right now it's my action and he's still flat-footed and here's my big pile of d6s for sneak attack and oh dear I think that's him on -10 hp, so he's not going to get the chance.

* * *

Anyway this kicked off a massive shitstorm ooc about how I just kicked off PvP and murdered a PC for no reason and the game fell apart because the gnome's player genuinely didn't seem to understand that 'mind control' is a hostile action. This was in the bad old days before safety tools and I was playing in a fairly neckbeardy group, so 'a man makes a woman horny against her will to humiliate her and laughs about it' was apparently not a deal-breaker while 'the woman stabs him for it' was.

I still think I wasn't the bad guy in this scenario.

There is no point to this story I just wanted to share it.

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 137

Jaskier and Geralt are imprisoned by some sort of foes of Geralt, Jaskier isn't sure. He and Geralt have been a bit rocky recently, to say the least. Jaskier is really only half-lucid. He's only just begun to hear and see, again. His head hurts quite a bit, and he's pretty sure his hands are chained, but he can't move his eyes down far enough to check. Geralt is chained like werewolves in storybooks, to the point Jaskier thinks it's a tad overkill. Geralt is sitting there, looking lovely as ever. His hair is falling into his face, poor darling.. Jaskier wishes he could tuck the strands behind Geralt's little pointy ears.. His eyes are extra reflective in their current dank housing. It's a wonder nobody kidnaps you to a lovely seaside manor. Jaskier would be much more interested in talking to someone in someplace nicer, perhaps with hor d'oeuvres and wine, but no. Instead he's slumped against stone, and the only lights are some torches and candles. There's a man in rather dull robes talking to Geralt. He's quite loud, Jaskier thinks, but he can't tell if it's his head or if the man really is of such volume. He can't quite make out the words, but he can tell they're beginning to make Geralt angry. He's doing that little 'I'm pissy' mouth quirk of his. Jaskier busies himself with dissociating, until the man talking to Geralt is suddenly the man yelling to Geralt. Very loud. Ouch. Jaskier tunes back into his surroundings, and funnily enough, he can begin to understand what they say now! Hooray! "If you won't speak when you're threatened, butcher, what if your greatest love was, instead?" Not hooray. The man dumps a bunch of colored glass onto the floor, making a horrible noise, but Jaskier can't even focus on why the man would be doing that, he's too busy thinking about the threat. Clearly Geralt's greatest love is... Regrettably, Yennefer. No matter how much Jaskier loves Geralt, he knows Yennefer is first in Geralt's book. Jaskier's thought long and hard about it before. He supposes it makes sense, they're both immortal, she's gorgeous, she's a woman, she's even snippy like Geralt. Sometimes he wonders if he was born a woman if Geralt would've fallen in love with him. Perhaps not. Perhaps he'd still be seen as his annoying little friend. Maybe if he was a meaner woman? Is the woman part the main issue? If he got bitchier would Geralt love him? Maybe he should try it one day. See if he can make Geralt love him. He'll never beat Yennefer, damned witch got a headstart, but he could at least be loved more, right? "Oh~" The man that speaks to Geralt suddenly coos, looking at the floor. And really, why must the man focus so much on Geralt? Jaskier knows he's the witcher, but he's a world famous bard! Why doesn't the man talk to him? He can't help but be a little jealous. Does the man not know who he is? Jaskier very well can't sing for the man, but he does think of doing so. Even for just a second. "What's this?" The man says with a cruel little chuckle, pointing to the ground, and Jaskier finally moves his head enough to see what they're looking at. The glass he threw earlier has magically rearranged itself to make a little portrait of.... Him. Jaskier. The man holds out some sort of amulet next, and if he wasn't gripping onto it, the amulet would've hit Jaskier in the face. Jaskier doesn't quite understand. These all seem like ways to track down Yennefer. He has an amulet that seeks her out, and the glass will provide him with an image of what she looks like. So why do both point to him? Geralt doesn't love him. Surely not as much as Yennefer. "Don't you dare hurt him." Geralt snarls, the first time he's spoken since Jaskier gained consciousness, he believes. Jaskier finds the protectiveness quite sweet. He'll be sure to thank Geralt for it later. It's nice to know that he's cared for. Apparently even loved! Could he truly be Geralt's one true love? His most beloved? His dearest one? He has so much to ask Geralt when he can make his mouth move!

The man begins stalking towards Jaskier and suddenly Jaskier regrets his earlier jealousy over the man not paying attention to him. The man is quite intimidating, and has a look of pure hate in his eyes.

"Will you speak up for me if I cut up your songbird, I wonder, butcher?"

The man whispers, as he looms over Jaskier. Jaskier tries his best to say 'I'm sure we can figure this out if we put all our heads together, no harming necessary' but all that comes out is a pained little groan. Great. Wonderful. Thanks, mouth. That was exactly what he wanted.

The man suddenly draws a sharp twisted blade, and holds it to Jaskier's neck. Jaskier can't see anything but the man's shoulder, but Jaskier can easily hear Geralt struggling in his restraints, growling. He liked when Geralt growled. It was either very cute or very hot, depending on the situation. Jaskier can't decide which one it is right now, however, as there was a knife to his neck.

The man withdraws the dagger from Jaskier's throat, and instead uses it to slice across his chest. Jaskier cries out in pain, and sounds rather pathetic. He'll be sure to write himself more stoic and… with-it when he writes about this experience later on.

There's a loud sound that hurts Jaskier's head, and suddenly the man with the knife is dead on the floor. Geralt stands above him, panting, covered in the man's blood. Gods, he was magnificent.

"H'llo d'r'ling, 'Love y'."

Jaskier manages to croak out, smiling at Geralt, even as his eyelids start to droop. Geralt stares at him for a moment, and that just makes Jaskier smile bigger. He likes seeing Geralt.

"Jaskier, you need to stay awake. Stay awake for me."

He snarls out, and Jaskier pouts a bit. He thinks not. He thinks it's a lovely time for a nap. Geralt will get them out. He's a hero.

[alitheakorogane]

Freedom's Protection: A Blasphemy or The Truth?

Summary: Venti's outburst shocks everyone, making the people of Mondstadt question everything they knew about their Archon.

This is the third part of Mondstadt's storyline for the Reader Protection Squad SAGAU series.

Note: There are instances of grammatical errors, please bear with me. Also, the entire layout was now changed and I placed a title on them so I could not be confused while I write the next chapters. It's still the same story though.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3 (current), 4, 5, 6, 7

"What if your dear Anemo Archon was also like them, an imposter who also steals someone's face?!"

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

Everyone couldn't believe what the young bard was saying, especially those who are very devoted to Lord Barbatos. The Anemo Archon is also an imposter?

Bennett and Fischl who accompanied him looked at Venti with surprised looks on their faces, while Razor was confused about what happened. On the other hand, you were shocked at what the bard did, even though you had expected him to do something stupid after Eula's harsh statement regarding imposters.

To be honest, you can understand why the usual happy and mischievous bard suddenly snaps out and break down at everyone. Eula's statement may be intended for you but it also applies to Venti's situation, and her scathing words hit the Anemo Archon on a personal level. You guessed that not everyone knows his real story, not even his very devout followers in his church, as you had remembered that only the Traveler was the one who had truly opened up about his real feelings of loss by telling his story about his bard friend in his story quest.

They didn't know who he really is... because all knowledge that the Mondstadters knew about their beloved Archon is from secondary sources, from the words of other people, and not really from Venti himself.

They never knew how hard is to pretend to be someone he really isn't. You know it wasn't his choice to rule a nation, since Andrius had stepped down from being a suitable candidate but Venti had tried his best to fulfill the wishes of his beloved friend before he had died: for Mondstadt to be free.

Mondstadters from the past to the present saw his Archon persona in rose-colored glasses, portraying him as regal, poised, and hardworking as his people (they were also overworked because they thought they can emulate Lord Barbatos' 'hardworking' work ethic) who value the concept of freedom over his domain, not knowing that their Archon is actually a happy-go-lucky troublemaker who has the heart of gold, who really likes apples and Dandelion Wine to the point of breaking the records for most shots a Mondstadter can drink in one go, or how he likes to annoy people with his songs and pranks when he feels like it.

You had sympathized with him, as you and he are similar in some aspects. You always force a bright smile on your face and feel optimistic, even though there are times that you feel like you wanted to give up on everything. You can crack jokes over your so-called friends, laugh at the corniest punchlines, and put up some masks on other people, saying to them that you're okay even though it really isn't.

There is a reason why you loved playing Genshin Impact, it's not because of the waifus or husbandos or you just want to have fun and spend over nothing, but it was an escape from your loneliness and the reality. You feel loved when the game greeted you on your birthday before anyone can and was given you a digital cake even though you know it was coded to be like that. You feel happy when your favorite character had come home and when you listened to their voice lines where they said something good about you.

You think that someone took pity on you and whisk you away to the beautiful continent of Teyvat, but it seems that there's a mistake. The moment you were spat at by the same characters you really loved, you feel like you were really unloved by anyone no matter what world you've been thrown in. You're not suicidal, but at that moment, the urge to throw yourself off the cliff and unto the waters of Cider Lake to drown was very strong.

So when you met Bennett, Razor, and Fischl for the first time and they had befriended you no matter what others say something bad about you, you feel happy that someone had accepted you the way you are, and you wanna cry with tears of joy.

And when Venti, the actual Anemo Archon of Mondstadt, came to your rescue, you feel like you were lucky that someone out there still appreciated your existence. You silently thank whoever is above that gives you some mercy over this forsaken world.

Meanwhile, Barbara Pegg, the lovely Deaconess of the Church of Favonius, couldn't help but ponder over what the bard had said. You had noticed how she was not as defensive as the other nuns present, but you just brushed it off as she was just in shock. You were unfortunately wrong about your assumptions, for you underestimated her just because you know from her game appearances that she was oblivious to her Archon being literally meters away from her.

She may be a devout follower of the Anemo Archon, but as a Gunnhildr, she had access to a certain diary of one of their ancestors living at the time of Decarabian, along with her older sister Jean.

She remembered a passage regarding a wind elf and his human friend who died in the rebellion, after her mother, Frederica, had let her read the family heirloom after Barbara joined the church as a Deaconess.

"The young leader had unfortunately passed away by a stray arrow to the heart, the winds took away his young life so early. We were devastated to see the one who had awakened our hearts and fought for freedom die in the rebellion against Lord Decarabian, but no one grieves more than the Elf, who was with him till the end. The Elf has done the unthinkable after they had ascended into a god by Celestia: they had taken the form of his human friend so he could see the free world under the eyes of the Elf, who was now under the name of Barbatos, the new Anemo Archon of Mondstadt."

Imagine Barbara's surprise when she found out about that, she had never read this information in any Mondstadt history books or tomes she had come across. She knew that her ancestor had been part of the first Mondstadt rebellion against Lord Decarabian, so she could assume that it was a legitimate source.

At the time, she can't believe that Lord Barbatos' current form seen in the statues isn't his, to begin with, for it was based on his human friend who had died in the first rebellion. Today, she had doubts about the issue, especially when the bard had brought it up.

"If that's the case, then it's true that Lord Barbatos is technically an imposter, just like how Mr. Bard had said," she thought to herself, "But how he known about that if that information isn't in the books I have ever read about our Archon? Did I miss a book?"

She looked at her older sister who was still standing with Diluc with a troubled look in her eyes like she was pondering about something. She ever wondered if Jean still remembered the contents of the diary or knew something about Venti. As far as she was concerned, Venti knew the Honorary Knight, Jean, and DIluc personally due to their involvement during the Stormterror crisis.

She knew that Venti can summon Dvalin, one of the Four Winds, when they went to the Golden Apple Archipelago months ago. He is also the only one she can't heal with her Hydro Vision, the first time since she had been blessed by the gods. He had an angelic voice and an exceptional talent for playing the lyre, which to be honest, Barbara was slightly jealous of. And he just recently appeared on Mondstadt, which was coincidentally the time when Dvalin, known as Stormterror that time, had attacked Mondstadt.

Who really is Venti anyway?

"Blasphemy!" One of the nuns screamed as her fellow comrades and citizens agreed with her, "Lord Barbatos isn't an imposter, you blasphemous child. How dare you speak to the Archon that way?!"

"History books had never told the Anemo Archon's whole story!" Venti continued as he lowered his bow down, his right arm wiping the stray tears on his cheeks. You wanted to comfort him, to hug him in your arms, but the situation was so tense that you prefer not to, for now.

"You just knew him because of those books and those spoken stories that always praise him! And in every single one of them, he was portrayed as a divinity who committed no mistakes and made some exceptional deeds just because he is an Archon. You may think that he is perfect, but news flash people, he's not! He's as flawed as any other mortal out there! He should have saved his dear friend if he was as perfect and powerful as you think he was!"

He was glaring at the people in front of him, his aqua-green eyes glowing in intensity, "You had never known that he was originally a wind wisp who had taken the form of a dead friend to honor a wish. He had never saved his dear friend... if only that blasted wind wisp was a second too early, his friend wouldn't have died in the rebellion! That friend of his was the one who started the peak of the rebellion, who had sang songs of freedom, and guess what, no one remembers his name or even his sacrificial deeds!"

Venti closed his eyes as he continued speaking, a look of nostalgia etched in his eyes as he stared at the skies above, "Freedom was given to all of you due to a sacrifice of a human who was now forgotten by history, but his face... his young face now lived on under the facade of Lord Barbatos. Without the bard's final wish, Lord Barbatos would never make freedom his ideal for Mondstadt..."

"...He would never have been the weakest among the Seven Archons if he had never fulfilled his dear friend's dying wish."

"And how would you know about that? Why would you try to defame Anemo Archon Barsibato just to manipulate our minds about the imposter?!" Rosaria harshly interrogated Venti who just spewed some blasphemous information about their Archon, her polearm pointed at the bard.

The nuns of the Church of Favonius had deadpan looks on their faces over Rosaria's mistake over Lord Barbatos' name, while the citizens who believed in the Archon glared at Venti for his statement.

To their surprise, the young Anemo user smiled at them, but they could guess that he was actually smirking. He chuckled as he bowed his head, bangs covering his beautiful eyes. It left people confused and scared, especially the Knights and the Church nuns. They had never seen this side of the bard who they have just known to be as mischievous and happy-go-lucky all the time.

You felt chills when you see his smirk, as you had an image of a young-looking boy with angelic wings who looked at the people with a menacing smile, the bow on his hands was stained in blood. You then realized that you had seen a glimpse of Venti in his Archon form, and it was possible that it was him in the Khaenri'ah disaster 500 years ago!

His Elegy of the End bow was still on his hand as he dared to respond with a playful tone at the young nun, staring at her with a coldness that could rival someone with a Cryo Vision, as if he was scolding a young misbehaving child, "You could say that I am more than just a mere drunkard bard, Miss Rosaria."

"After all, how could I ever spread blasphemous words about myself?"

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

BADASS VENTI IS LIFE.

Well, this is Part 3 of the Reader Protection Squad series of one-shots, where someone is trying to protect the Reader from being pelted down by the Divine Creator's obsessive acolytes.

This one was also cut into two parts, so there is a possible Part 4 regarding Venti helping you off. (sigh) I think I will do a full-blown fanfic if I kept this up. I also write the Reader's inner thoughts, based on my experience. I couldn't help but shed a tear when I wrote this part.

To those who are new to my story, in this series, Venti is part of your protection squad in this Imposter AU concept, one of the two Archons who are going to help you. He is usually the mischaracterized character in SAGAU fics, and I wanted to do justice to my boi's character.

I made Barbara more perceptive than she was on canon, because why not? I made her a book enthusiast, she likes to read books in her free time just like her older sister (if she is not busy with her idol work, practice, healing, and church duties). Her possible favorite books are about Lord Barbatos and his deeds to Mondstadt.

And here's Rosaria and her mishaps with Venti's Archon name...🤣

-----

Taglist: @eimuros, @vvyeislazzy, @ansyistiredsstuff, @haru-tofuu, @coquettemaiden, @voidlesslove, @depressed-bitchy-demon, @yuukaaariyuuu, @g3n0dtt, @misswitchthewindborn, @lumpywolf, @c00kie-cat, @mulandi, @genshin-impacts-me, @bloop-booop

[tragedy-peanut-gallery]

Daeron ii’s family playing D&D cause I’m very bored and have too much time on my hands

(These are my silly hours so I wanted to write something a little whimsical that probably breaks canon. Idc ☺️💖)

Daeron: The Dm, uses all the old school dice and handbooks from when he and Elaena played as kids. All their preset character sheets got burned by Baelor so he spends way too much time helping everyone with their characters. Gets a little too railroad-y sometimes but makes up for it with a good story and funny voices

Myriah: Doesn’t play, but sometimes checks in to ask the kids if they “won” yet. Will occasionally do the voice of a patron or deity if she gets pestered enough

Baelor: Human oath of vengeance paladin 10000000%. Originally chose the class because he thought smite was cool but kept accidentally breaking his oath even if he was technically doing something good. He’s kinda bad at roleplaying but tries to steer everyone to make the right decisions

Aerys: High elf divination wizard. Probably spent two hours hogging all the source books in order to optimize his character to be the best spellcaster there ever was. Loves asking about every minute detail in any new room which annoys everyone- but! On the bright side, he is the best at solving every puzzle the party faces

Rhaegel: Dragonborn drakewarden ranger. Only made the character so he could be a dragon with a dragon friend, but doesn’t really roleplay or keep track of combat. Spends most of the games stacking everyone’s dice into towers, but starts paying attention when he’s finally allowed to fly his drake friend around

Maekar: Goliath beserker barbarian. When he was asked what sort of character he wanted to play he just said he “wanted to hit things really hard”. Doesn’t pay attention to roleplay at all but becomes an absolute beast in combat, the group’s master strategizer at age 6. Has probably accidentally killed a party member once (*cough* Baelor *cough*)

Daenerys: Half elf light domain cleric. Has a 10 page backstory written about her character and will take any opportunity to talk about it. Claims to prefer roleplaying and just being support but has probably dealt the most amount of damage in the party so far and has a consistent pattern of advocating for fights because it levels them up faster

+Bonus!

Shiera: Tiefling college of spirits bard. Originally wanted to play warlock but was mad about the limited spell slots so saves her evil backstory for another character. Most comitted roleplayer at the table, manages to talk the party’s way out of most of the fights Maekar and Daenerys gets them into, even though she’s like- 5, so most of her convincing ends up being “no, that’s mean >:(“

Brynden: Tiefling arcane trickster rogue. Unironically the edgiest character to be made, consistently brooding in the corner of every tavern they go into. Everyone thinks he might be a potential traitor but ends up being the biggest ride or die in the party and probably dramatically sacrifices himself to save them (Daeron writes him as actually escaping because he felt bad lol)

Daemon: Fallen aasimar oathbreaker paladin. Gives Daeron a minor aneurism when he asks if he can betray the party at some point. Otherwise a really well rounded character who only dabbles in the edginess, and puts up with everyone’s shenanigans enough to justify his ascension as the game’s bbeg

Aegor: Hates D&D. Banned from the table for calling everyone a bunch of nerds

[pretty-little-howtown]

Mimic

Astarion x Bard!Reader

Genre: fluff

Word count: 1.0k

gn reader

You arrived back at camp having finally defeated the Goblin leaders. You sat down in your tent relaxing, knowing you had limited time before the teiflings came to visit no doubt to throw a celebration party.

You sat up on your bed roll with the tent flap flowing gently in the wind. You took a deep breath holing your hand just below your rips feeling your diaphragm. You relaxed your breath with a low controlled him. You focused on you sounds you’d heard that day from the footsteps of your companions to the voices of the goblins milling about when you first entered the sanctum.

Your mind zoomed in on the most intresting voice you’ve had the pleasure of hearing since the day you met. You rescaled his quips throughout the day. There were so many tones and subtleties to his dulcet tones you couldn’t wait to unravel.

The voices of your other companions weren’t that hard to recreate. They were so easy for you to replicate you would often sit in your tent whispering things in Gale’s voice without much of a thought. You would chuckle to yourself at how easy it was to mimic their voices. To replicate their tones inside of you mind and repat things they had said while in the road of in camp.

Astarion’s however, proved to be more difficult. You had practiced night after night. You hung in the vampire’s every word hoping to crack the code. You were alway close but they was something about his voice that alluded you.

You took another deep breath this time pressing down gently on your diaphragm. You left out a slow sigh changing to pitch ever so slightly until you hit just the right note. With this in mind you tried saying one of his quips from the day, ahudsting the cadence with each word.

You prepared yourself for another fruitless attempt when you surprised yourself with how Astarion-like you had sounded. To make sure it wasn’t a fluke you picked his favourite phrase. You slowed the pace of your words replicating the rhythm and mixing it with his tone of voice.

“Hello darling,” you wrapped your lips around the words, accentuating the syllables. Making sure to draw out each one.

You paused eyes wide and mouth open. You left out a small laugh reeling from the fact you had finally gotten it right. You said it one more time just to be sure and like a child let out a few kicks of excitement.

You stood up and got out of your tent giddy and ready to make preparations for the teiflings’ arrival.

Astarion sat in the sunlight reading his book watching you rush around the camp moving things out of the way and organising the stacks of books they had collected over the last couples days.

He chuckled as he saw you uncork wines smelling them and splitting them into two groups. One was significantly smaller than the other and he had no doubt in his mind that you were keeping the best for yourself.

He’d been watching you’d do the better part of an hour, with the only mildly annoying pep in your step.

He looked back down at his book turning the page when a shadow blocked his sun. He sighed and looked up from the page only to see Gale stood in front of him. That was all it took for Astarion’s mood to sour.

“It’s lovely to hear you take some initiative,” Gale began. “I really didn’t think you would want the teifling refugees to be anywhere near our camp tonight but I stand corrected.” Astarion looked in with a slight grimace of his face.

“What on earth are you talking about?” his face twisting in disgust even further.

“Ah you may pretend now but I heard you making lists of the food that needed preparing. It’s good to see you open up to new people.” Gale walked away leave Astarion stunned. He couldn’t even begin to understand what he had just heard. Making lists? Him!

The party was in full swing as you milled about socialising with everyone who came to visit. They each give you their thanks and their gratitude. It almost flaws you. You never thought you’d be helping people in such a tangible way. You never thought you’d be adventuring on the Sword Coast wiping out goblin hoards and saving refugees.

You had to excuse yourself from your conversation with Zevlor to get yourself another drink. You wouldn’t be able to take the thanks without blurting out how surprised you even were that you managed to kill the leaders. Especially considering you had never held a sword in your life before you crash landed in the nautaloid.

You walked over to your tent grabbing the one you had stashed earlier. As you ducked out of your tent again you noticed Astarion looking intently in your direction. You walked towards him with deliberate steps occasionally glancing at the rest of the party.

When you got to his tent you greeted him, without thinking, with his favourite phrase in his exact voice. You watched shock cloud his face as he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

“I was going to ask why Gale believed I had been making preparation for this dull party but it seems my question has been answered.” He remarked. How were you able to do that?

You chuckled at his reaction apologising for mimicking his voice without thinking.

“I think we all know if I was planning the party things wouldn’t be so incredibly dreary.” He smirked, quick to resume his mask of emotions for you. “Tell me, how did you manage that? I’m surprised you have any magic left after today.”

You explained it was nothing to do with magic just a hidden talent of yours. You couldn’t help yourself as you finally managed to mimic his voice after trying for so long.

“Well, I would love to hear more. Perhaps later tonight, when everyone else is asleep and it will be just you and me.” Astarion smirked at the information, his plan was already falling into place and he hadn’t yet lifted a finger.

A/N: it’s 3am, I’ve only just recovered from the first migraine I’ve had in years but I had to get this out of my head. I have not proof read this and probably won’t until tomorrow evening. But either way I hope you enjoyed. I’ve just started playing the game and I’m absolutely loving it so far !

I can write 1k words of Astarion fanfic in a night but apparently 3k word of the essay I need to write for my degree eludes me.

[hips-like-battleships]

And here's my second Tav, my best baby boy, who I am currently very close to finishing my tactician mode run on. He is just Tav (said with very "I'm just Ken" energy). He only wears clothes I've dyed mellow fruit die colors because he is a sentient wildberry poptart. He looks like Nigel Thornberry. I love him I love him I love him.

He is swords bard archer build, and my baby can do some damage. Primary instrument is the lute, but he can tinker around on anything. He is the annoying guy playing Wonderwall at the campsite. Except if you try and go talk to him about it (please god play anything else?!) he ends up hitting you so hard with the rizz all of a sudden you are singing along. how did that even happen?!

He has a good heart and mostly good intentions, but he will charm and deceive when he needs to get his way. Prefers not to intimidate except when something he really loves is on the line. Also money please. Pay him thank you he needs wine and fancy clothes.

Astarion love interest. And, well. Astarion did try to stab him immediately upon their first meeting. And then the next serious conversation they had, Tav let Astarion bite him. He just rolled right over and showed him that puppy belly.

Which I think Astarion finds CONFOUNDING. Why does this little freckly ginger man trust him so much? Doesn't he know Astarion is bad and will hurt him?

And Tavvy just keeps on trusting. Every time.

Happy as always to entertain bg3/Tav related asks, fic requests, etc!

Photos again by @mynthara.

[miraakulous-cloud-district]

WIP whenever

Hello, everyone! I know updates are very slow, but life is absolutely draining me of my writing mojo most days. But!!! I did some writing, just in time for it to still count as a WIP Wednesday! And I've been tagged by the lovelies @bostoniangirl21 and @sheirukitriesfandom Thank you very much for the tags and for keeping me motivated with them <3!!! I must say that working on ch. 17 of WYGTYA is hard because it's by far the most serious, angst-filled thing I've written so far :(((

I'll tag @dirty-bosmer @bougainvillea-and-saltwater @kiir-do-faal-rahhe @illumiera @thelavenderelf @blossom-adventures @nerevar-quote-and-star only if you want to participate, of course <3 <3 But enough rambles! I will share a bit from both fics under the cut! WYGTYA feels and banter with another appearance from that mysterious Akaviri swordsman in HOTHS! Enjoy!

Wherever you go, there you are, chapter 17:

~

The noise of the city was still dim, the people of the port already tuning in to either a night of much-needed sleep or raucous drinking at the taverns, and so the port is quiet, peaceful, the only sounds filling the air are the soothing waves of the Sea of Ghosts and the distant noises of the city ahead of them. Blacklight. Full of its magical charm and dancing lights and colourfulness. Ravonna’s steps falter because the air smells like home once again: it is not damp and moist like Black Marsh, nor is it the warm and flowery smells of Cyrodiil, nor the harsh, cold, yet fresh air of Skyrim. It smells like ash and sea salt and flavored tobacco from shishas and that distinct smell of cloth paint that Dunmer use. She can hear the faint hum of Red Mountain, the distant bards singing in taverns, the loud laughter of the people in the city and the soft, hushed giggles of sailors who cannot sleep but don’t want to wake their crew up and they’re all so frustratingly, Gods-damned oblivious to her thundering heart and the violent lightning strikes that hit her soul with each step, each breath, each second spent here again. Fuck, she should be happy, excited, but everything hurts and this bad feeling that something’s not right, that something’s missing won’t go away.

~

Hymn of the High Seas, chapter 3:

~

They settle cross-legged around the small coffee table, collectively thinking that this place was not built to host so many people. Renjiro runs outside with a spring in his step.

“Sooo… I think it’s safe to assume that this guy is a big fan of swords.” Signe speaks, earning a huff from Rhaim and a knowing smile from Arvyvel. 

“That makes two of us.” Rhaim says.

“Really? I always figured you'd be more of a -” she stops to gesticulate clawing and eating an enemy in beast form, “- kind of person, ya know?” 

He looks at her for a moment before bursting into deep, earth-grumbling laughter. “Careful, you might scare away our future crewmates.”

“Me? I’m absolutely elated.” Arvyvel says.

“And I still haven’t agreed to anything! I’m not going on some suicide mission!” Marc says, annoyed.

“Fine by me. We don’t need you anyway. Don’t need your kind among us.” Rhaim flares his nostrils and breathes out aggressively.

Before Marc can say anything back, a loud, obnoxious cough interrupts them.

“I’m sorry, gentlemen, but I have to interrupt the tense moment. No fighting in this house.” Renjiro says, making his way to the table with two bottles of fresh sake. He tries to keep his calm demeanor and shove down the thoughts of ‘Yoshi will kill me if I made a mess in his absence.’

The men stop, not before glaring menacingly at each other one last time. Rhaim doesn’t like traitorous bastards and he could smell this guy’s traitorous bastard-ness from miles away. He scoots closer to Marc, turning his back to him and making Room for Renjiro between him and Signe. His eyes light up at the bottle of alcohol. The swordsman lays out five small glasses and fills them. Rhaim takes it quickly, his patience running out, taking a sip and closing his eyes to really feel the taste on his tongue, going down his throat. A pleasure grunt escapes him. It’s unlike anything he’s ever tasted: strong, but not too strong. Balanced, a cascade of flavors – a harmonious blend of sweet and dry alcohol warming his chest and his spirit.

“Fuck.” He breathes, opening his eyes, only to see everyone looking at him, with their glasses halfway up in a toast. He raises an eyebrow.

“Ye need a moment alone with that glass of booze?” Signe smirks.

~

Author's note: I could and probably *will* expand on the feelings of drinking sake because I literally found my new favourite drink in the year of our lord 2024.

[pikahlua]

Hi Pika ☺️ Thanks for the translations and analyses 🫂 this is pallate cleanser ask hopefully lol. I think you said you played ffxiv so what do you think Katsuki would play as if he did? And what kind of playstyle would suit him best? (achiev hunting for example)

Any other student headcanons you'd like to share are appreciated too 😌

Katsuki Bakugou certainly has the god complex for a Healer, and he's believable as a big numbers DPS, but given his penchant for taunting, instinctive battle strategizing, insistence on leading his party from out in front, propensity for taking hits for others, and physical advantage in wars of attrition, I declare Katsuki Bakugou is in fact a Tank main (who had an annoying Machinist phase on the side at some point because artillery explosions go brrrrrrrrrrr).

Aesthetically, we all know Katsuki's going for a male Au Ra Dark Knight or Reaper. Gunbreaker is a permissible alternative. It's hard to choose anything but Dark Knight for him given the Living Dead ability where dying literally makes him invulnerable. 😂 And he'd spend any duty bossing the healers around so they don't fuck with his skill set.

That said, given the breadth of his character development, it seems by the time he reaches his second year of high school Katsuki will dabble in Paladin and become a reliable carry and support.

Play style? Katsuki plays PvP guaranteed. And he races for worldwide first clear of newly released Ultimates. Whatever is the most competitive shit, Katsuki's doing it and kicking ass (unlike me, as I'm a filthy casual who doesn't really know what I'm talking about even by saying this much).

Katsuki eventually gets into Fisher after he discovers he's a masochist.

Other characters?

Izuku (male Viera) mains either Ninja (for the nerdy complexity) or Dragoon (for the self-destructive tendencies).

Ochako (female Lalafell) is a crafter main who's milking the marketboard for all the gil she can get.

Shouto (male Hyur) is a really bad Black Mage main.

Iida is a mentor who never turns off Shout in the chatbox.

Kirishima mains Warrior.

Tokoyami mains Reaper.

Kouda mains Summoner.

Satou mains Culinarian/Gatherer.

Ojiro is a Monk who does MSQ only.

Hagakure knows all the ins and outs of the free trial version.

Mina mains Dancer and knows glamour is the endgame.

Mineta just ERPs as a female Viera and uses mods.

Aoyama mains Red Mage and uses Verblind every chance he gets.

Momo has max leveled all her roles and runs the class' Free Company.

Jirou joins a Bard Discord, hangs out exclusively in clubs, and AFKs in the Limsa Lominsa aetheryte plaza.

Shouji is a male Hrothgar who absolutely slays at everything he does, as Hrothgars are wont to do.

Tsuyu is a FemRoe.

Kaminari is also a FemRoe. He spends real money to buy Fantasia potions.

Sero mains Blue Mage.

[whittlewitchypoo]

Geralt takes a surprisingly long time to notice the more unnatural parts of his companion. He’s always seen Jask as annoying but strangely commendable, both obnoxious and calming at once. Geralt doesn’t remember how old he is, just that he’s watched his few human friends grow old and wither and if he’s lucky, he’s been able to know where they were buried. He knows he should of notice how Jask doesn’t really age, his hair grows and his body scars, but his eyes are always bright and his skin smooth. It’s not until he’s talking to Yen about him that she wonders allowed how he’s still so young and if he made some kind of deal to keep his youth that he realises that, by Geralts estimate, Jaskier should be in his later eighties by then. He manages to recall that the bard had once claimed to of had an elven ancestor and that could be the cause, but it’s hard to focus on that when an overwhelming realisation hits him. The only reason he had never fully let Jask in, why he never let himself devote what life he could to the man, was because he assumed he would die long before Geralt. The fact that he could of wasted years of his life not spending time loving and praising the man who reminded him that his heart still beat… luckily for him, Jask was willing to wait.

[eowynstwin]

Would they play D&D?

Most people would be surprised to find out that Captain Price is a forever DM if they didn’t know him. But he’s been playing since 3.5E, and while he doesn’t have much opportunity to play anymore, it wouldn’t be hard to convince him to sit down for a session if he had the time. He’d usually choose to play pre-written modules, but tweak them as he’d see fit. He misses it a lot. However, he will never—repeat for emphasis, NEVER—DM a game for the 141 ever again.

Laswell played with Price a couple times before the job took over both their lives. And actually, Laswell and her wife both played, mostly because the Mrs. batted her eyelashes and convinced Kate to try it out. Their minis, a half-elf ranger and a gnome druid, still sit on a shelf at home cuddling romantically. Laswell knows why Price won’t DM for the 141 from his own firsthand account, but was not there for the catastrophe.

The first time Alejandro played, it was because Rudy made a bet with him about something unrelated and won. Rudy used to play as a kid with some other children from his neighborhood, and he liked DMing partly for the power and partly because he’s always been a cinnamon roll who likes to make sure everyone has fun. Alejo meanwhile played a human fighter, because Rudy told him it was the easiest to play. Alejo fell in love instantly with the game, but none of Los Vaqueros ever have time.

Graves played a TON of D&D in high school but quit cold turkey right before enlisting. He is horribly embarrassed by it and will deny even knowing his old campaign buddies. Phil thinks that Real and True and Good soldiers don’t do cringe shit like that, because they’re doing the COOL shit in real life. He’s been meaning to throw away those dice for years, and keeps telling himself he could probably make ok money if he just sold them instead. He played a human paladin all the way up to level 20.

He likes D&D a lot, but Gaz actually prefers Blades in the Dark or Monster of the Week. He has a lot of opinions about the virtues of d6 gaming systems over what he thinks is an overly-complex ruleset that involves dice with so many goddamn sides, and really, D&D doesn’t support as large a variety of playing styles and—hey, where are you going?? Anyway, he likes to play tieflings, and vacillates between bard and sorcerer. (Also he secretly and desperately wants to play Honey Heist with the 141. Ever since That Fateful Night, he knows it will never happen. It continues to disappoint him.)

Ghost has played once. Only once. Soap convinced him, and by convinced I mean he annoyed Ghost about it into submission. And Ghost wants to play again, actually, but he will literally jump off a cliff before admitting it, because it was That Fateful Night when Price ran the session for 141 which would go down in history as the worst time Price has ever had including active combat. Ghost played a half-orc barbarian, and secretly read through the entire PHB the week leading up to the session.

And finally, and perhaps not surprisingly, Soap is the reason Price will never DM for the task force ever again. Soap is a rule of cool kind of man, plays dwarf and halfling barbarians almost exclusively, and is practically allergic to the PHB, which is ironic because he’s so FUCKING good at minmaxing. This clashes with Price’s very rules-lawyery DMing style, and Soap doesn’t know how to not pick a fight over dumb rules like having to roll survival checks when he wants to know what time it is in-game.

Soap was not, it should be said, actually trying to come to blows with Price—taking the piss out of people is a Scottish love language—but Price had been tired. Price had been on his last cigar. And Price already spent too much goddamn time with these men. The fourth time Soap declared that he wanted to do some especially dumb bullshit that he would absolutely need to make a cascade of d20 rolls for, Price just folded up his makeshift DM screen (a couple of manila folders) and hit the fucking bricks. No one brings up That Fateful Night, but no one will ever forget it.

Bonus: Valeria would shove any D&D player she ever met into a locker. And honestly, they should thank her for it.

[vossn]

fae/iris: 1, 5, 27, 39, 72, 94

veritas/alastair: 41, 48, 51, 62, 72, 89, 90

:>

Veterans discount for Niko! Buckle up.

Who fell first? Who fell harder? Iris falls first, because she's been in love before and knows what it looks like, so she recognizes the crush when it creeps in and doesn't bother resisting it. Fae doesn't, and when the realization settles in, it hits them like a truck and they fall HARD.

5. What is something they like to do together? Quiet mornings, talk, drink gahwa, paint, pick herbs, garden, read in silence, bathe, annoy the others by being in love.

27. Who tends to drive on long journeys? Who navigates? Fae would give top-tier navigation but Iris drives a bit more reckless and gives very entertaining road rage, so if you want to get there safe and quiet let Fae drive, if you want to get there fast, let Iris behind the wheel and hold on for dear life.

39. Do they dance? If so, who's better? They dooo <3 Iris is better because she actually knows how to (folk dances), Fae had to learn when the team began infiltrating the high society, but is still a bit stiff. Iris puts her whole heart in, and you can tell.

72. If someone flirted with or showed an interest in their S/O, how would the other react? Fae: Trusts her enough to reject them herself, but is also considering threatening them (as a treat) inside their head. Iris: Trying really hard to explode them with her mind (might work)

94. Their pet has caused destruction. Who puts the pet in jail? Who defends the pet? Fae puts it in air jail, Iris insists it is just a little baby and wrongfully convicted. ___

41. Who sings to the other? Are they any good? Veritas has sung to Alistair when he'd gotten injured or sick, and she's a bard after all, so she's pretty good. It is one of the few focal memories he keeps of her. Alistair sings or hums when closing down the bar, but not to her.

48. If they ever had less that 5 mins to tell their S/O something before never seeing them again, what would they say? This changes throughout the book of course, the main one always being - "I am sorry." And what else is there - they both know what they had, but they will never be able to say it out loud. It doesn't matter if they see each other again or every day. Some things just can't be.

51. Are there any characters who ship them? Everyone kind of does and also doesn't. Iris knows they are not good for one another but doesn't want to say it. Fae is oblivious at first and then too interested to see where it is going, but also has bigger fish to fight all of the time. No one else gets even remotely close enough to witness the garbage fire that is those two.

62. How would outside characters describe their relationship? complicated, undefined, strange, whatever the opposite of respectful is, longing.

72. If someone flirted with or showed an interest in their S/O, how would the other react? Pretend not to care, which is a lie. Alastair would swallow it down but stew on it, Veritas would begin to make cutting remarks. Both would secretly enjoy seeing the other jealous.

89. Would they ever consider marriage? Gods, fuck no.

90. Would they ever consider starting a family? Sometimes you start a family, sometimes the family starts you.. but no, after the acts of Book 2 its pretty clear that there's no end in which they can exist together. Separately, Veritas might, but Alistair very much is not interested in procreating.

[barrenclan]

Important Question: if Deepdark and the goon squad played D&D, what classes would they play as? (Spike strikes me as a barbarian. Not super complex and can hit things really hard.) (Deepdark would rather be playing Vampire: The Masquerade, but plays an overpowered warlock multi-class).

Ooh, I only know the most basic stuff about D&D so this is just going to be using my limited framework.

Spike as a barbarian is definitely accurate; she would be a player who only solves problems through immense amounts of violence and annoys the hell out of anyone else.

Prowl would be the warlock, I think, actually. Part of his in-universe story is about him swearing fealty to multiple people, so I think he would grok the whole "getting powers directly from a higher eldritch force" pretty well. Plus he would play better to intelligence-types rather than strength ones.

Fang is a rogue. Always doing her own shit, willing to go off on her own and follow her own motives. But she does have strong ties to certain people.

Deepdark, hmm... a dark paladin? He is charismatic and very convincing, with a strong interest in philosophy and he does head up a sort of "crusade". Then again, I can see lots of his traits as an evil bard.

[cococowboah]

Blood Rush Chapter 2

originally this series was called Urges but that was just, meh, it felt too obvious.

I'm wayyyy happier with this chapter though so I'm posting it here because I cannot be stopped.

Spoilers for Dark Urge from Act 1, and depictions of blood, gore, character death, some sexy vampire antics.

It can be read entirely separate from Chapter 1, the story itself hasn't picked up much yet, I'm kinda just having fun with it for now.

Enjoy!

---

I killed her.

I don't know why I killed her. I don't even know how.

I don't remember doing it at all.

But she was dead. The innocent little tiefling bard was dead.

Her eyes gouged out from her skull, her face eternally frozen in a terrified scream of pain.

I must have ripped her tongue out and let her mouth pool with blood so that she wouldn't wake the others while I evoked my wrath. Perhaps I ripped out her eyes so she wouldn't have known the betrayal of a man she once viewed as her savior and friend.

Did I enjoy it? I can't say. Perhaps it was an act of mercy, she could be with her teacher now. Perhaps I was fooling myself into thinking I was at all capable of mercy, no matter what it looked like.

I smiled, maybe from the adrenaline rush fading away, maybe from being thankful it was her and not someone more useful to the group, maybe from being a sick bastard who found pleasure in the agony of others.

I looked down at myself, on my hands appeared gloves made of blood and shredded flesh. Mixed with the brown freckles on my bare chest were the tiniest dashes of thick shimmering red, some of them dry to the touch, the larger splotches were still runny and pungent.

I heard bootsteps from behind me, I turned, just to see his darling face moving closer, his crimson eyes investigating the kill.

"Was her singing really that bad?" He crossed his arms and mocked disappointment. Something told me he didn't find this nearly as disturbing as the others would.

"I don't remember a thing. I have no idea why I did it."

"This is almost as bad as the time you took off the hand of the man who was stuck in the portal."

"Almost?" I stopped myself from chuckling. "This seems infinitely worse."

"Well at least you might've had a reason for killing Alfira. You had no reason to rip off an unknown man's hand."

"What reason would I have for killing Alfira?"

"She annoyed you." He shrugged. "Reason enough."

"Reason enough to murder her?"

"Well what's done is done, you can't fix this. May as well just revel in the fact that it was a clean kill. She didn't suffer." He looked at the body and nodded his head, correcting himself. "Not for very long at least."

"I can't just leave her here. May as well find a spot to bury her."

"I'll join you. I've hidden my fair share of bodies back in the day."

I raised an eyebrow at that. "You have?"

"Well, fantasized about it at least. Most of the people I've killed didn't deserve a burial."

I leaned down and lifted the still warm corpse from the ground. "But they deserved their deaths, I'm sure?" 

"More than Alfira deserved hers, darling." He walked over to a pile of supplies we had laid up under a tree and grabbed a shovel, an undeniable smirk on his face as he made his way back to me then took lead in front.

Our camp seemed decently secluded, so as long as we got her far enough away that nobody could wake up and see us digging a hole, we'd be fine.

"Right up there should be good, behind the mound."

I put down the body with apparently more respect than I gave it in life, for what reason I didn't know. But I made sure her head didn't hit the ground too hard, and that her body was laying down before I took my hands away and stood up.

Astarion handed me the shovel the moment my hands were free, wiping his hands of the dirt on the handle once it was out of his grasp.

"You wouldn't like to do the honors?"

"I have the most important job here: lookout." He turned his face towards camp and quickly scanned the area. "And thankfully that's a job that doesn't require me to get my hands dirty."

"Right, because your hands are squeaky clean after offering to help me bury a body, right?"

"I can deal with blood on my hands. Dirt, no thank you."

I gave out a stifled laugh while making the first incision in the ground, pushed my foot against the spade and tossed the resulting earth to the side. I looked at him once I had a rhythm going, his body stilled in the night while he held his arms crossed and kept his eyes, not on the landscape to scope out would-be tattlers, but on Alfira herself.

Or at least, her body.

"Do you think you enjoyed it?" He asked solemnly. 

"Some part of me hopes I did, for the sake of her death not being entirely pointless. The other part of me hopes I didn't."

"Maybe it was self defense." He looked at me. "Maybe she tried to sing to you in the middle of the night."

"She really wasn't that bad."

"It still won't be something you'll miss about her."

"Barely knew the girl to begin with. We might've gotten on just fine."

"Yes, yes, and you might've made her death a little less bloody as a result of that blossoming friendship , right?"

"Well, maybe."

"So when can I expect your thumbs in my eyes? I do ask that you take care not to make my corpse as ghastly as our tiefling friend here."

"With any luck, I won't kill you at all."

"Then who else? Will it be Wyll? Shadowheart? At least wake me up before you do the deed so I can take a bite before helping you bury the next body."

"With all due respect, you're not doing much to help."

"Well nobody knows you're out here burying a body except for me, so I'd say I'm doing a good job."

That cheeky grin of his again. Even while knee deep in a grave, his face still made me swoon.

Swoon, had I ever swooned before? My murderous tendencies seemed to evoke either complete blackouts or vague memories, but this fluttery feeling in my chest was completely unfamiliar to me.

I enjoyed it. Perhaps more than I enjoyed killing.

"Alright, this seems deep enough." I made a step out of the grave, lifted the girl into my arms again, and took one final look at her peaceful corpse before returning to her final bed and laying her down within it.

"What happened to her lute?"

"Her what?"

"Her lute. The instrument she played, what did you do with it?"

I rubbed the back of my head, I didn't even know how or why I killed her and he's expecting me to know where her lute is?

"No idea."

"What if someone finds it? If you want to play off that she just left to go back home, you don't want her lute laying around."

"Well, we'll find it back at camp and, Idunno, burn it."

"Burn it? Why not just bury it with her?"

"Because then we'd have to go back to camp, find the damn thing, then come all the way back here and then fill in the grave."

"Well what, she's not going to go anywhere. I'm sure the lute isn't far from where you murdered her."

"Why does it matter? Why can't we just fill in the grave and then find the lute and dispose of it?"

"Well what if someone in camp wakes up and finds you burning Alfira's lute?!"

"Nobody woke up when I killed her."

"I did!"

"You woke up while I killed her? Not after?"

"I watched you do the whole bloody thing!"

"And you didn't stop me?"

He shook his head and rolled his eyes at me. "It might surprise you that when I awaken to a man twice my size ripping out a girl's tongue in the middle of the night my first reaction isn't to charge into the middle of it to stop him."

"You could've alerted the others."

"And they would've killed you ."

"So, you just watched me kill a girl in cold blood and didn't do anything until it was over with?"

"Well, it was a fun show if anything."

"And that would've been your reaction if you caught anyone in camp doing the same?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps I was a little liberal with it being you."

My heart skipped a beat at the thought. Did he let me get away with murder because he liked me? Or was I picking up on an insinuation that wasn't there?

"How'd I do it, then?"

"What, you want a recap?"

"I just wanna know some details. Maybe it can prevent another blackout if I end up remembering anything."

He smiled and lifted a finger. "It was grisly. Passionate even." He walked in front of me and rubbed at his chin as he recalled the event. "I didn't catch the beginning of course, but I woke up to the sound of a struggle. I turned to you, and there you were, one hand on her neck holding her off the ground and the other halfway down her throat. You pulled back and out with your fist came a bright red dripping tongue."

I couldn't do much to remember it, but I visualized his words in my mind.

He turned around to see my face, he was smiling like a devil.

"What?"

"I have an idea." He walked up to me, held my face in his hands, and closed his eyes.

With a shiver from his touch and just a moment more, we were linked. I saw myself from his point of view, his hazy eyes darting around in search of the sound of the whimper and scuffle. And then I saw myself, a beast, a monster, holding an innocent life in my hands and ripping her tongue out. Her blood splattered against my face, and I smiled as she gurgled and drowned in her own blood.

He was right. She didn't suffer long.

It looked like she was already dead by the time I dropped her body by the fire, crouched down on top of her and squashed her pretty black eyes between my fingers.

I could see it all, everything he saw. But I could feel what he felt too in that moment.

Excitement. His skin tingling at the sight, his mouth curved into a lascivious smile, his tongue aching for just a drip of the blood off the corpse before it went cold.

It was a stones toss from him getting off on the sight. He didn't just want to save his own skin nor mine, he loved watching me kill her.

I opened my eyes and he snapped back as well, smiling as he took a step behind and returned his hands to his sides.

"I suppose you know my secret now." He looked almost ashamed. I assumed it was from all those shaky, bated breaths he had taken while watching me murder an innocent woman.

"Thought we were gonna stop keeping secrets after the vampire thing. When were you planning on telling me you're a sadist?"

"Oh please. You were hot and bothered killing her too. Besides, that's not the secret I was talking about."

"Well, what's the secret then?"

"Are you dense? You didn't feel it?"

"Feel…?"

He sighed and crossed his arms in frustration. "Nevermind."

"No, tell me. No secrets, remember?"

"I can't…" He hummed, seethed through his teeth, he clearly didn't want to say it. "I can't get a, you know."

"Can't get what?"

"Erection! I can't get an erection!"

"Oh." Now that I didn't know.

"No blood flow, and, well, there you go. But it's not like I don't want to ."

"So, can you still, get there ?"

He shrugged. "With the right stimulation, sometimes. But it's few and far between."

"Oh." I couldn't say I fully understood what he meant, though I had a few ideas. "So, seeing me kill turned you on?"

"As much as I could be. The rush I felt seeing you in your element, it was, exhilarating."

"Was it… because it was me?"

"One part, perhaps." He moved with grace towards me. Even when he was clearly nervous, he carried himself with such elegance. "You're a handsome devil, surely you know that."

My face flushed with heat as he got closer. There was desire in those devious eyes of his, desire for me, I could feel it.

He connected with me again, speaking to me with his lips perfectly still. "Tell me what you think of me."

My eyes widened. I spoke to him, as openly as I could muster, with my words, not my thoughts. "I think you're beautiful."

"More." He whispered to my mind again.

"You're a breathtaking sight to behold. You're elegant, charming, hypnotic. I've never seen anything or anyone nearly as stunning as you."

"Show me."

"Show you what?"

"Show me how attractive you find me."

I paused. "How?"

He laughed. "God, you're a fool." He walked closer and touched my skin, feeling up the skin on my chest until he pressed his palm to my heart, and leaned in to listen to it.

I held him back with one hand, my fingers aching to touch his hair, caress his perfect scalp. I could feel him breathe against me and heard my own heart racing in his ear, thuthumthuthum . Pumping faster as his hand dropped lower, caressing the front of my trousers and giving a gentle squeeze to the growth there.

He pulled away. Still smiling.

"Maybe you do like me."

I swallowed and shook my head back into focusing on the situation at hand. "We should finish up here and get to bed."

"Yes, we should." His face was as close to mine as he could manage without pulling me down to his level or standing up on the tips of his toes. It almost felt immoral; him looking up to me. I should be the one looking up at him, preferably from on my knees.

Godsdamnit, what was this pull he had? Did he know how badly I desired to worship him, his body, how much I wanted to pleasure him until he cried?

Without thinking, my hands came to rest on his hips, and suddenly my mind was fogged with the red lust in his eyes.

He wanted something.

I knew exactly what.

I turned away and presented my neck to him, and he lunged for me like a snake striking at prey. Within an instant his teeth had pierced my skin, his hands holding my neck steady as we dropped to the ground and he hungrily lapped up the outpouring of heated fluid from my veins.

I sucked through my teeth and winced from the pain, from the pleasure. It hurt like hell, it stung, it ached, but every tremble of his teeth reopening the wound as my body fought to close the flow gave way to tingles erupting under my skin.

Giving him this, being the blood that nourished him, it was the most gratifying feeling I ever endured.

If all I'd ever be was his blood bank, his personal cow, a slave to his hunger, I could be happy with that.

" F-uUck." I let out under my breath, and I heard that giggle of his in my ear before he nipped it teasingly.

"You're a submissive little pet, aren't you?"

Your pet, yes! I'll be your pet, I'll be anything you want me to be!

"I'll be anything for you." I let out, breathlessly, not even thinking about what I was saying before I said it.

"Anything?" He straightened up and looked me in the eyes. I didn't even realize he was straddling me. He was dominating me, knocking me down to the level I needed to be, anything he wanted from me, it was his.

And he knew it.

"Anything."

He held my face tightly in his hands, a thumb caressing over my lips until I opened them. His finger passed over next, touching my teeth, forcing its way into my mouth and tickling the tip of my tongue.

I suckled on it. He moaned.

He returned to my neck, biting the other side this time, a fresh opening just for him.

His finger turned to two as he thrust them in and out of my mouth, sucking at my blood like a teet while he pleasured his fingertips with my warmth. I held the back of his head with my hand, the temptation to grab it and bite him back almost being as overwhelming as every other sensation I was enduring.

With my other hand, I held his back gently, rubbing circles with my thumb over the fabric on his skin, desiring little more than to feel his bare flesh against mine.

Just as the dark fog had begun clouding my vision and making my head empty and droopy, he pulled away, giving his notorious few licks of the remainder before looking in my eyes and pulling his fingers from my mouth.

"You're such a good pet, aren't you, dear?"

I could hardly respond. The only blood left in my body was pooled in my crotch, I had no power left for forming sentences.

"Oh dear. Did I take too much?"

I nodded, but even the gentlest movement of my head made me feel like I was riding a bucking bull.

"Stay here, I'll be back." He lifted himself off me and faded from my vision.

I blacked out for the second time that night, coming to with my head throbbing and my body cold against the dirt below me. I looked to the side to see the grave I had dug earlier, completely filled, a shovel planted in the soil and standing upright.

I closed my tired eyes and moved a bit. I realized my head, though sore and pounding, was laying on something soft and inviting. I reached up and felt fabric, soft cotton and leather wrapped around tender logs of flesh.

A lap?

I opened my eyes again, and saw that pale face looking down at me.

"Good, you're still alive."

"For now." I managed to spew out.

"Drink this." He put a glass bottle to my lips and began to pour once I opened my mouth. I don't know what I was expecting him to pour into my mouth, but I was relieved to find it was water.

My throat was dry and the cooling liquid was refreshing beyond belief. I still felt lightheaded and sick, but better.

It didn't matter. A few moments of terrifyingly beautiful pleasure for maybe a few hours of pain and discomfort, it was worth it.

"I brought you some stew from camp too." He caressed my face before putting the bottle aside and helping me raise back up into sitting. This headache was the worst I've ever felt, an endless pounding throb, challenging even my ability to ignore pain.

"Eat." He was forcing a spoonful of meat and veggies into my face. I took the bite, despite the nausea. "Now, as heartwarming as it is that you'd let me quite literally bleed you dry without contest, we should probably get a safe word set up, shall we?"

"How about 'stop,' that good?"

"Well stop is no fun because you might say stop when you really mean 'keep going.'"

"Why would I say stop if I didn't mean stop ?"

"Well if you don't want to play with a little teasing, fine. I'll stop if you tell me to."

"Glad we could come to an agreement."

"Me too. I don't want to say I was concerned for you but, I was. I hope there are no hard feelings between you and I."

"Let me guess, getting your hands dirty and filling in the grave is your way of saying 'I'm sorry,' right?"

"Oh thank God you noticed because I was moments away from bringing it up myself."

I gave out a hardy laugh, despite the pain in my skull throbbing with every breath. I looked at him and there was a moment of pure joy between us, an afterglow perhaps. Being with him after what we just did, the pleasure we both undeniably took part in, it felt special to me.

"This was nice. Whatever that was earlier, it was nice."

"Well, guess you could call it a 'feeding session' if anything."

"Was it… sex?"

He paused, lifted a brow, smiled and guffawed in perfect order. He hit his leg in the fit of laughter, the lines of his face prominent in the moonlight, his fangs barred in foolish delight.

He rested a hand on my thigh and squeezed it. "You really are a virgin, aren't you?"

"I told you I have no memories of my past."

"But asking if some biting and fooling around was sex? Surely you at least know there's more intricacies than that to fucking."

"What would it have had to entail then?"

"Well, you didn't get there, and I didn't get there, and there were no attempts at getting there for either of us, so it wasn't sex. Case closed."

"Well, what if I did?"

"Did you?"

"No, but if I did. Would it have been sex?"

He visibly gave up and shrugged. "I guess if you got there, fine, you could call it sex. But if you can get there from a little pain and finger sucking well, we're going to have tons of fun together in the future."

"Good to know, I suppose."

"Now, finish up this stew and get to bed." He patted my thigh, his hand still resting there even with the latest acknowledgement. "Don't need you all dazed and sick tomorrow. You're a big dumb brute as it is."

"If I were any smarter or smaller you wouldn't get nearly as much of a meal out of me though."

"Good point, even for you."

That final glance at each other in the moonlight had me set, wondering what we were, what we could become.

Lovers, spouses, master and slave, something less, something more.

I didn't know.

But I found it hard to say I didn't care.

[renthony]

would you drop a tier list of your most & least favorite tlovm characters and why? :) I love seeing new people get into it!

Oooooh, I don't have a tier template on hand, and trying to rank them in order sounds hard anyway, because I don't think there are any characters I don't like. So here are my thoughts about all the main party members, plus my favorite side characters!

Percy - My one true blorbo from this series. Baby boy gun man. Someone please hug him and let him take a nap. I have imprinted on him like a duckling. I technically finished my cosplay but I'm already working on plans for future upgrades. My husband also wants to figure out how to rig up an Orthax puppet/costume so he can loom over my shoulder in photos or at cons. Percy is my baby.

Vex - My WIFE. She's got the only brain cell in the party half the time, she's got a war bear, she's even bisexual (is that canon? idk if it's canon, but it's canon to ME!!! no one in this party is straight!!!!!!!) I don't know that I'd be quite as into Perc'ahlia just yet if I didn't know some of their endgame, but I fucking adore everything I've seen from their dynamic so far in season 2. They're adorable.

Vax - I didn't dislike Vax at first, but I wasn't quite sure how I'd feel about him. He grew on me really fast, though! I fucking adore every interaction he has with Gilmore, his snark delights me, and I really love what's going on with him and the Raven Queen. I like death-associated characters and I like angst, and whatever's happening with him right now is ticking both those boxes.

Grog - He did exactly what Magnus Burnsides from the Adventure Zone did for me--I started off feeling kinda indifferent toward them both, because "generic smash-smash fighter dude" is usually boring to me, but there's just so much heart. He's funny, he's sweet, he's just so damn genuine. I'm worried about my guy Grog, man. Did he learn nothing from Percy's evil gun last season? GROG, PLEASE!

Pike - I love Pike. Her story with the Everlight in season one really hit me hard, and I think it's so cool to have a devout holy character who curses, drinks, fucks, and doesn't adhere to the "religious people are all stuffy, uptight bigots" stereotype. And her friendship with Grog gives me life, holy shit. I love them.

Keyleth - I ADORE Keyleth. Actual literal Disney princess. I've heard vague mutterings that she's got divisive appeal in the fandom, but I think she's really fun, and I like that she's still learning and figuring her shit out. I like that she's cute and sweet, and I think she really helps balance out the darker moments of the show. I also really appreciate that she gets to be cute and sweet and silly, but is still clearly an adult. She gets drunk, she swears, she isn't a naive infant. Too many kindhearted characters get treated as stupid or childish for it and it annoys me a lot.

Scanlan - I thought I was going to hate Scanlan. I am so tired of horny bards played by people who don't respect consent and think that comedy gives them a free pass to be a fucking asshole who pushes everyone's buttons. But Scanlan isn't that. Yeah, he's horny, and he's over-the-top, and sometimes he's abrasive--but he respects consent, he's not some dickhead macho guy trying to prove he's the most masculine in the room, and he's got a lot of depth to him beneath the snark. Season 2 Scanlan is genuinely breaking my fucking heart, because I want him to be happy so bad.

Gilmore - I fucking love him and want to see way more of him. I don't know if I want to fuck him or be him. He is the distilled essence of what I find aesthetically attractive in a man, and he's a flirtatious snarker, and he can do magic?! The only reason he's not my #1 fave is because that's how much I love Percy.

Sylas & Delilah - My bisexual ass wants to be in that evil sandwich. Goddamn. Also Delilah is totally valid, I would also do horrible crimes against nature to bring my husband back from the dead. She did nothing wrong. Yes I love Percy, yes Delilah did nothing wrong, I contain multitudes. She broke the world for him!!! SHE BROKE THE WORLD!!!! Evil twisted love, baby!!!!!!!

Allura - I was kinda meh on her at first but she's really growing on me in the new season. She's an exhausted put-upon sapphic with the only brain cell on the continent, bless her. I was glad to see she got out of the city.

So yeah! :D

[dysaniadisorder]

In regards to the "paladins and bards are at their core xyz", I'd love to hear your opinions on the rest of the classes as I struggle to have individual options about things and my ideas about classes are just a chaotic collage of things I've seen and read which can lead me to only being able to think of common tropes.

And I like having a springboard to come up with other ideas especially cos I'm coming up with a DnD PC and I liked what you were putting down.

yeah ofc !! to be fair i get a lot of my thoughts on dnd classes through d20 because they have so many cool genre twists (warlock pacts being marriage pacts, a druid whos a total stoner & environmental activist) but generally i just think people have kind of small minded ideas about dnd classes?

ive noticed something strange which is. weirdly enough, people who dont know almost anything about dnd are likely to have some of the most fun campaigns. and i think its because they dont have an already preconceived notion of like... what a wizard can and cant be, what a barbarian can and cant be, ect

subclasses are some of my favorite things in the WORLD and i think they contribute sooo much to the character. Like- yeah, Barbarian has Berserker or whatever, but theres also a subclass that can make you summon wind and snow, theres a subclass that gives you animal traits, theres a subclass that connects you to giants and makes you huge, theres even a wild magic barbarian subclass !!!

and i think adding that one more level of depth to a class just breaks way to a billion other ideas- i have a friend right now writing a character whos family are total hippies, and hes kind of a skater kid, but hes a cleric of peace.

the stereotypes are SO frustrating because no ones having fun anymore, and suddenly you have a dozen elf wizards who are tall and quiet and elegant, and suddenly you have a dozen half orc barbarians who hit hard and dont like having friends. I currently play an Artificer Alchemist, largely acclaimed to be thee most boring class, and theyre fun as hell. i cant do much but what i can do has helped me & the party immensly. my friends and i found charts of all the least popular classes & subclasses, and all the ones least used were cool as hell.

i currently have so many ideas for characters its not even funny !!! my favorite is a cleric who doesnt know theyre actually a warlock. not to mention- theres plenty chance a warlock was some other class before they were a warlock. i love in The Seven, Sam Nightingale has some Bard levels because she was a tv show star and had to take some Bard training because of the program. and like,, yeah! Bards that are not just about music but other points of charisma, honestly you could probably make a Bard politician crazy easily.

to be honest while i said passion is at the core of paladins and bards i think passion may just be at the center of all of them, but it could easily Not Be. Barbarians who hate being angry and struggle with it, Clerics who struggle with their religion (these are both d20 tropes), Monks have all SORTS of junk that I love,, look. when it comes down to it the stereotypes arent bad, they just end up making fairly 2d or boring characters most of the time, which they dont have to. alot of the (annoying) comments on that post are people talking about their characters that ARE this or that stereotype, and thats fine, they clearly love their character and it sounds like they do all sorts of fun stuff with them. but they can do sooo muuuuch moooore

i fun exercise thing i like to do is take characters from other things, either my own or a tv show or game or something and try to spec them as a dnd character. its incredibly fun

my personal favorite classes are Druids and Monks, especially bc i think Monks dont get enough love (also Druids are kind of overpowered) and multiclassing is also so so fuckign fun. my best advice is just like. i dont know. think outside the box & try to be weird about it. i had a friend with a character who was a barbarian bc he had anger issues, but his passion was in food, and as such he was literally a cleric of food. he would level up his classes based on how he had acted in the time sicne he last leveled up and it was always fairly sad when he'd gain a level of barbarian because he didnt want it. i hope this all helps i really love dnd classes