#and turned EVERYONE hostile. all of my companions.

[sonofsin]

oh no. I fucked up

[theprincessandthepie]

replaying dragon age inquisition is just an exercise in “the rebel mages would not fucking do that”

[revelboo]

You works are awesome, but i also wanna remind you not to overwork yourself! :) Have a nice day/night! ;3

Honestly, considering this blog is only 24 days old, it’s you guys I’m a bit worried about. Y’all good? Cause holy crow…

The Weakends Pt 5

TFP Ratchet x Reader- argument

• Putting a tool away, Ratchet glances over at the empty counter, the medbay quiet around him. Who’d have thought he’d miss your questions and companionable chatter? Need it to work. That silence drives home the fact that you’re avoiding him. Have been for days now and it’s worming under his plating, a disquiet that sparks through him, because you belong here. Your loss making him snap at everyone, because it’d be one thing if you were just skulking about the base, but no. Since you got upset with him, you’ve kept far away. Sulking like a sparkling.

• Setting the little trowel aside, you drag one of the mums you’d bought closer and wiggle it free of its little plastic pot. It’s warmer today, sweat slicking your skin as you work. Really, you’re just keeping busy. Trying to distract yourself, because you’re so frustrated you want to scream. Mostly at a certain white and red moron. And yourself. You know you’re both too proud to bend now. Neither one of you willing to back down no matter how silly the argument actually was. Even if staying away feels like you’re punishing yourself more than him.

• The sound of gravel popping under tires lifts your head and you squint in the sun. Bumblebee and the kids back again to pester you into coming in? Lips pressing into a thin line when you spot the ambulance, you yank off your gloves. Surely, he isn’t going to actually apologize? Blowing out a breath, you stand and stretch the kinks out of your back. Your little house is far enough from town and the main road that Ratchet can transform without worrying about being spotted and he does, walking the rest of the way over with a scowl like he tastes something foul. Cocking a hip, you cross your arms and wait for the apology. “Well, you’re not dead or dying,” he growls, optics narrowing at you.

• “Yeah, doing great,” you say, tone tight with anger as your fingers dig into your upper arms. “So, I don’t need a medic.” The ‘I don’t need you’ coming across loud and clear. That open hostility in your stare ramping up his own irritation that you’re so petty you’d made him drive all the way out to retrieve you. And you turn your back to him, bending to roughly seize a potted plant. Ignoring him. After he came to get you? His servos close around your middle, hearing your startled gasp as he lifts you. And then you whip around, chucking that plant at his head. It bounces off, scattering dirt all over him as you glare at each other. “Put me down. Right now.”

• Your heart’s racing, the adrenaline souring inside you as you realize you just hit him with a mum. And he’s not just going to let that slide. His optics shutter, jaw clenching as he vents angrily and you tense for the yelling. The fury. Instead, one of his servos slides over your torso as he adjusts his grip. That servo settling against your breast where your frantic heart is pounding away. Grabbing that servo, you mean to shove at it, but just hold on. Slowly his venting evens out.

• He can feel your heart thumping against his servo, frantic with fear. Of him. He can’t move, snared by that rhythm, knowing he’s causing it. As he remains still, that too quick beat slows. Calming. Your little hands shift on his servo. “There’s work to do. I need my assistant,” he says. Can’t make himself apologize, but isn’t leaving without you either, even if he has to just take you. You’re coming home. And you whisper okay so low he almost misses it, that tension winding through him just unraveling.

Previous

Next

[talesfromawannabejournalist]

Furry Companion

welp here it is, ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce of the storyline of arc 1 written by @talesfromawannabejournalistand and @kittenfangirl20

also special thanks to @rius-cave for giving me some inspiration for the plot, and thanks to @helluvahazbins for giving me inspiration for the Hellhound character and her appearance from their own art.

@kittenfangirl20 see at end of notes

Lucifer knew there would be a day like this would eventually come. Since the moment Adam woke up in Hell as a sinner and fallen angel Lucifer had vowed have him protected and happy at all times. It was the least he could do after all he did to him. In the beginning it was easy to keep him entertained as he mainly stayed in his room. He stayed in the hotel all the time so he wasn’t worried too worried about it.

But now, especially since they officially got together, Lucifer’s been busy more with his work as King, he can’t be by Adam’s side all the time and Adam was wanting to go out more. Plus Adam needed someone, a companion. Sure he had Angel Dust but that was about it. It didn’t help that the other residents, beside Angel and Charlie, were outright hostile towards him. Lucifer swore that if it wasn’t Hell itself Adam needed to watch out for Vaggie and Alastor and maybe even Nifty but for a whole other reason.

In any event Adam needed a companion, his own hellhound, which is why they were both at a an adoption clinic with the head director walking past kennel after kennel of teens with her going on about the different potentials of each hound. Adam was growing bored and to be honest a bit annoyed at being dragged here by Lucifer. He thought this whole adoption process with Hell hounds was weird, they were treated almost like pets. Yes, they had an animal appearance but they were sentient just like the rest of the demons in Hell. As he was thinking about it in the corner of his eye a movement caught his eye.

There in the back was a young hellhound, who appeared to be female, she appeared to be 12-14 years old. She had the appearance of husky and wolf dog mixed together with dark fur and and long black hair that covered a part of her face. However, when she looked up he saw both her eyes as they flashed red and she growled at him.

Director: sir please stay away from that kennel specifically we’ve had incidents in the past where some male adopters got too close and lost a hand to her. Let’s just say she’s just too unstable to be a good guard for you

Lucifer: come on my dear I’m sure there are plenty others for you to choose from

Adam: yeah you go ahead Luci I think I’m just uh gonna go to the bathroom

Lucifer raised an eyebrow but ultimately shrugged following the lady in charge as she showed Lucifer the other hounds. Adam waited till they were out of ear shot then turned his attention back to the girl who was just glaring at him waiting for him to do something

Adam: um hi

She didn’t respond

Adam: my names Adam, what’s yours?

???: Lydia

Adam gave her a smile

Adam: it’s a pretty name

Instead of a smile she instead bared her teeth and scooted even further deep into her kennel

Lydia: the fuck did you just say!?

Adam: I said it’s a pretty name

Lydia: Get the fuck away from me before I tore open your guts for all of Hell to see!

When Adam didn’t move away from the bars she let out an intimidating bark

Lydia: what the fuck do you want!?

Adam: Nothing I just wanted your name

Lydia: well you know my name now you can go back to your royal boy toy and pick out a good hellhound, just just please go away and leave me alone

Adam stared at Lydia, even though she was telling him to go, deep down inside he knew that’s not what she wanted. Looking at her was like looking at himself when he was in a similar position not just when he revived here in Hell but when he was left abandoned over and over again in his life. Scared, confused, and lashing out at everyone because it was the only way to express how she was feeling. At that moment he knew that he couldn’t let her stay here. Exhaling he stepped away from the bars and crouched a little to make himself appear less intimidating to her. Adam: Lydia, you can say no to this, but…I can take you away from here, would you like that?

Lydia stood up from her cot and took slow small steps over to him. Adam could see her full height being at 5’7. As she got closer he could see her guard was still up until she was standing right in front of him. Lydia stared down deep into Adam’s eyes and even though she didn’t know why, she didn’t feel in danger by this sinner. In fact she felt her walls tore down as she saw nothing but earnestness in them as he seemed like genuinely wanted to help her. Tears started to form in her eyes as she looked down and gave her answer

Lydia: …..yes

alright Kitten, hoped you liked it now it’s your turn

[chocmoon-latte]

"Hancock has no regrets about becoming a ghoul"??

It baffles me when some people think Hancock has zero regrets about becoming a ghoul. Absolutely none at all apparently. Like yeah, he plays it up when you first meet him before he's a companion, but let's be real he plays up pretty much everything in regards to the whole "sexy king of the zombies" image he projects.

It takes travelling with you away from Goodneighbor to give him some time to be introspective for him to finally realize that him becoming a ghoul was just another escape route from himself again. He's got several lines of dialogue that literally reiterate this. It's a key point of his character:

Hell, running from myself is what made me into… into a damn Ghoul.

Well, I mean, I didn't always look this good. The drug that did this to me, that made me a Ghoul, I knew what it was going to do.

I just couldn't stand looking at the bastard I saw in the mirror anymore.

The coward who'd let all those Ghouls from Diamond City die. Who was too scared to protect his fellow drifters from Vic and his boys.

If I took it, I'd never have to look at him again. I could put that all behind me. I'd be free. Didn't seem like a choice at all. Turns out it was just me running from somethin' else in my life.

I mean, after reaching max affinity with you, he realizes that maybe it wasn't such a bad thing after all (because he's finally got an honest friend he can be open with now). He now feels comfortable where he is - but to imply that he doesn't have at least the tiniest amount of regret? Heck, if you go onto romance him (or attempt to), he stops referring to himself as handsome and literally starts calling himself ugly, which naturally goes entirely against the image he projects:

Why don't we just agree to keep it friendly for now or till they find a cure for ugly? Heh.

You don't want to wake up to this mug every morning. Never wish that on anyone I cared for.

You sure you want to be stuck with this ugly mug?

(You could even say he implies it beforehand with another line of dialogue elsewhere in-game when he says "I'd be mad too if I was that ugly." But that's a stretch I guess.)

Combine that with the fact that 99% of ghouls don’t choose to become ghouls. Hancock did. But he didn't do it for a fun experience. He was already in a bad place when he became a ghoul. He didn't turn to be cool and edgy like he pretended he did when first getting to know him.

He lost his appearance, any connections to his old identity and old friends/people he might’ve been associated with (for better or worse), and in return gained hostility from bigots towards him for merely existing, from an overwhelming majority of the Commonwealth population that hates ghouls. There's the Institute and Brotherhood who want to kill anyone like him on top of that. Plenty of people out there who think he and other ghouls are monsters for just being alive.

Not only that, but something which adds onto this is the fact that he's a client of the Memory Den, and they're very selective with their customers. And what's the whole point of the Memory Den? Reliving past memories. Irma's terminal entry about Hancock, as well as the other two ghoul clients Kent and Daisy, all imply the memories they go back to relive are primarily from their human days. (The one on Hancock straight up says "if you thought he was handsome and dangerous now, you should've seen him before he turned ghoul.")

I genuinely refuse to believe that Hancock has never had any regret whatsoever about becoming a ghoul. The man who's spent a decent chunk of his life running from his own problems instead of confronting them, has NO regrets about taking a drug that alters his entire being and functionality on a biological level and will force him to outlive everyone he knows? This man is FULL of regrets!

[circeyoru]

Collection of Overlords _ Part 15 = Requested

[Alastor x Soul Owner of All Overlords!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 1.5 — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 — Part 7 — Part 8 — Part 9  — Part 10 — Part 11 — Part 12 — Part 13 — Part 14 — Part 15 (here) — Part 16 — Epilogue

“Now then…” All attention was on the one remaining individual on the platform. 

Valentino finally got back up on his two feet and snapped, “I never gave up on my title! I still hold mine!” He pointed at his former teammates, “It’s those a**h*les that gave up.”

You sighed, “Yes, yes, I know that.” You threw the necklace you’ve taken from Vox at him. “They left of their own accord and you never had a say in it. Even one member is still a group, I guess. So you’re now just the V Overlord.”

Valentino picked up the necklace with neither grace nor elegance, one of his eyes narrowed as he eyed it, “What the f**k’s this for?”

That one thoughtless comment made everyone snap their attention to the lone demon on the platform, their eyes glowing with malice and their forms and aura turning on edge and hostile. Your Cages all glared their beady eyes at the Moth Demon, wanting to tear into his form for such disrespect. Meanwhile, you couldn’t care less because it was practically exacted that he was going to make such a comment.

Before any of your loyal Overlords could do anything to punish Valentino for his actions, Husk rose from his seat with his hand raised by his face. “If I may.” Everyone looked over to him, you gave Husk a nod of approval to continue, amusement and anticipation already bubbling within you. “As a new returned Overlord, I want to prove myself once more.”

“How so? Haven’t you done enough?” Alastor taunted to Husk’s side, his eyes glowed dangerously at Husk’s claims. “Here to challenge my place?”

“Maybe not now.” Husk smirked back, undeterred with his goal. His smirk dropped as he stared down at Valentino and pointed a clawed finger at him. “I want to challenge Valentino for a soul contract.” He turned to you with a bow, “With My Sovereign’s permission and accursed blessing.”

You huffed with a small twitch that showed a smirk.

“He can’t f***ing do that! Contracts can’t be challenged like this!” Valentino screamed profanities. “Dont like just because the Vees are separated now and you just getting minor praise can make you some useful sh*t.”

“You have no right to say that, only Our Sovereign can make that decision.” Zeezi spoke up with her arms crossed over her chest, “You think all your soul contracts you own is yours to keep? Think again.” She growled, “Everything in Hell is Our Sovereign’s possession, including souls of all Sinners.” 

All other Overlords stared down at Valentino as Zeezi laid the last obvious point. “This is the fundamental information all Overlords know. The truth.”

Everyone’s solemn gaze on Valentino made him speechless and for the first time in forever, Valentino didn’t argue or shout anything from his mind. Though his self-control was long overdue since your patience has long ran out. 

“Voice your thoughts, Husk.” You announced since Valentino was knocked in his place. 

“Yes.” Husk bowed to you before appealing to his Overlord companions. “It’s obvious that Valentino doesn’t treat his people kind or well, but this is Hell so what’s the harm. No problem, right? No. Not when it’s about my friend.”

Zestial chuckled, his palm opening as he gestured to Husk. “Cousin? Overlords needeth only dominance ov’r their souls and controleth.  If ‘t be true it’s a meag’r matt’r such as this, p’rhaps thou art foolish to returneth. (Friend? Overlords need only dominance over their souls and control. If it’s a meager matter such as this, perhaps you are foolish to return.)”

Rosie laughed, covering her mouth with his hand from time to time, “If that’s all then, Alastor’s the same right? I doubt he treated you any better but no one came to defend you. Aren’t you being too righteous for a mere Sinner?”

Zeezi snickered, “Maybe he should be redeemed.”

“I have sworn loyalty to My Sovereign.” Husk reaffirmed. “It’s not as simple as wanting my friend to be treated better…” Husk’s hand balled into a fist. “If his soul is to be owned by anyone, I’d rather it be me.”

“If you do own your friend’s soul, I doubt you can maintain your current relationship with him.” Carmilla noted. 

“Why ever not? Niffty is a wonderful gal to be around. Even when I force her in the hotel.” Alastor grinned with his head tilted to the side.

“That’s your business.” Vox mumbled, but the demons heard him either way.

Husk snapped his fingers, “Oh, did I mention his name? He’s Angel Dust, porn star, addict and more. But the most important point is that he is the Princess of Hell’s first client in her Haz- Happy Hotel.” He placed a hand over his chest while gesturing to Valentino, “So isn’t it better for a figure like him to be under my command than Valentino?”

“Deary, your point doesn’t stand. If that’s the case, the most trusted and favoured of Our Liege’s collection should be the one to own that soul.” Rosie said innocently.

“I can leverage with our friendship or former friendship and closer bond.” Husk pointed out.

A resounding clap made everyone’s bickering stop as they all turned to you who was smiling eerily, “Let’s have the star of the talk here then, hm? This wouldn’t end anytime soon if I let you all continue.” With a snap of your fingers, a vortex appeared in the area nearest to you a few meters above the ground. No sooner, a figure was dropped onto the platform. “Welcome, Angel Dust, or should I call you Anthony?”

“Ow ow ow…” Angel slowly got up, the first figure his eyes landed on was you. He didn’t even hide his shock but there was a hint of expectedness in his eyes, his gaze scanned to the right and then left side of you, spotting the other Overlords all staring down at him. His gaze showed shock and confusion when he noticed Husk. “Husk…?”

Husk didn’t say anything but stared back, hoping Angel would understand the situation he’s in and remain calm. With Alastor beside Husk as well, Angel was more keen on staying as tamed as possible, plus he didn’t want to cross you anytime soon or in the future.

“Angel Dust!” Valentino screamed the spider demon’s name. “Get you a** over here this instant!”

Angel didn’t even need to move before a transparent dome in the form of a cage encased him from within. It appeared the moment there was a snap of your fingers. You declared, “There will be no ordering Angel around nor harming him. He’s my guest after all.” You waved your hand in Husk’s direct and he disappeared from his booth to reappear on the platform next to Valentino. “But he’s also the subject of this discord in my presence.”

A contract formed hovering over your open palm, one with a distinctive signature from Angel himself. Valentino bit back his words as he clenched his fists to his side while glaring at Husk from the side of his eyes behind his glasses, unable to move against you. Husk watched with relief as Angel’s contract was now in your hands. 

Different from what you have done with Husk’s contract, you asked Alastor for it and he gave. Of course he was already in on the ploy and have long agreed to set Husk free from his leash, as it was your will. However, with Valentino, you had forcefully taken the contract from him without room for a fight. Such was your power and authority over souls, you could just control everyone in Hell, yet you, to some degree, offer freedom and free rein for them to do as they please. 

Though, one could also argue you allowed all this because you wanted to watch the souls under your suffer and torture themselves in their unique way. 

“What is all this?” Angel questioned as he gripped the bars, looking up at you. “What do you want?”

“Nothing more than to bring back peace within my collection, dear Angel.” You hummed with a small smile. “You can sit back and relax, for you have little to do. All you need to know is there might be a change of ownership for your soul.” Ignoring Angel’s shock look, you focused on Husk and Valentino, “There will be three rounds to determine the master of Angel’s soul. First two rounds are each of your choice, and the last is a secret. Whoever has more wins, will take this contract.”

Valentino turned to look over at Velvette and Vox.

“There will be no assistance of any kind.” You interrupted Valentino’s thoughts. “You are your own Overlord, you don’t share your title any more. You will find that summoning your soul contractees here to do your bidding won’t work as well.”

“Fine.” Valentino dropped his glare, he took out his guns from under coat and his wings revealed themselves. “I’ll deciding the first round.”

“Be my guest.” Husk let Valentino do the first pick.

“Shooting.” Valentino grinned with his guns raised, target boards appeared all around. “Whoever shoots more of those… red things, wins. Uh… In one minutes or something. No… Wait, 30 seconds. We’ll take turns.”

“Easy enough.” Husk nodded.

Valentino chuckled, “You’ll regret challenging me. Fur cat.”

“Husk, back out while you still can.” Angel pleaded.

Husk looked back, giving him a reassured smile, “Look, it’s gonna be okay. This bartender is more than just that.”

“Ready, set… Go!” Valentino without waiting for Husk to get out of the way began shooting, his four arms all raised forward in a cross shape. Then his feet turned his entire body around while he continued shooting, making sure he covered all 360 degrees. 

Husk being quick on his feet and reflexes, flew up into the air, easily avoiding all the bullets. He watched as Valentino shot all the targets in the bullseyes without pausing to aim, no shot was missed. By the time 30 seconds was over, all the targets had a bullet hole. 

“That’s 360 shots.” Carmilla counted. 

Valentino pridefully smirked as he pocketed away his guns. “Let’s see you beat that. Kitty cat.”

“Yeah, sure.” Husk materialized a deck of cards and held a few cards like a fan. “Ready,” He raised his hand. “Set,” He aimed and that made the audiences’ eyes widened while Valentino wasn’t even paying attention. “Shoot.”

Husk flied his charged cards straight at Valentino. He cursed as a impaled into his wings one by one. He has screamed what Husk was doing, but Husk didn’t say a word and continued. Everyone’s eyes glued to the scene in front of them, Valentino unable to skillfully defend himself while Husk appeared to be taking free shots. But all his cards did in fact land on the ‘red things’.

From Valentino’s wings to his hat and glasses, to even the heart shaped decorations in his fur around his neck. All over Valentino’s body was Husk’s magically charged cards that prevented its removal and Valentino’s healing just worked against him as he providede more red things for Husk to target. 

Angel was gasped at the scene, yes Husk did mention he was once an Overlord, but he never imagined Husk was this ruthless and cruel. All he knew was the grumpy bartender at the hotel that jokes and plays around. You grinned while Husk remained indifferent, continuing to launch attack after attack with precision and strength. It was a wonderful decision to support Husk once more.

You turned your attention over to Alastor, though even with your eyes closed, he sensed your gaze and looked away from the scene. You nodded your head at him with a soft smile and Alastor bowed his head. He mouthed, “My pleasure to bring you the best of entertainment, My Liege.”

Note: Designing the fights is a bit hard for me cause I'm not sure how to do it, nor am I good with fight scenes, so bear with me. Husk might be a bit OOC here and later on, but I wanted him to mix some Overlord qualities and his new self together. On another note~ There's finally some Alastor stuff haha.

Circe Y. 

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: (those that don't specify to being in all the works' taglist will automatically be assumed to be in whichever series they comment on)

@aconfusedwonderland @crowleysthings @donustellaron @mistpurpl3 @lucifers-silhouette @fluffy-koalala @snowy-violet @charlottesskiss @plutobots @ray-rook @thealienartist @serenity-songbird @galaxydreamer468 @raynerrold @wen01203 @hikari-michiko @colecreo @myromanempiree @xsamkuro @yourdoorisunlocked @clavelina @jono723 @cursedcattalastor @an-idyllic-novelist @flamiohotman2024 @rea-grace @myromanempiree @veroneverleft @lousypotatoes @crazysuityouth @jellyedkazoo @wat4r @kiraisastay @thealienartist @chefysawesomeideas @wtvbabes @patronizingbitch @koshi-kazu @craftyperfectiontragedy @scr4luv @chrollobb @mysterypotatoink @callmefe @dokukg69 @ratchetprime211 @freejayde @prettyprincess-ily @cgmajor @mook14 @ace-spades-1 @yuuandtheghost @abbiesxox @martinys-world @kiraisastay @umbreon-worshipper @crimsonflameproxy @the-gay-trash-gremlin @ratchetprime211 @soggyb0nes @newkatzkafe2023

[incorrect-kotor-quotes]

I found a new fun thing to do on Malachor. It's very easy to use Beast Control to bring one of the academy's pet Storm Beasts over to your side, then use Stasis Field to keep all the surrounding Sith immobilized (but presumably aware of their surroundings) while an abomination mauls them to death one at a time.

Because I'm the good guy.

So I let him kill everyone in a room, then kited him to the door once he turned hostile again, made him friendly, opened the door, froze everyone, and gave him some enrichment.

"Okay everybody, this is my newest apprentice, his name is Padawan Fluffles. Candy, I need you to escort him back to the Hawk with everyone else."

It seems Padawan Fluffles interferes with the cutscene's ending.

No, Fluffles, no! Bad Storm Beast!

Oh shit Fluffles killed everyone. It wasn't even a close fight, he's got most of his health left.

Sadly, I couldn't get Fluffles through the door into Sion's boss fight, but I highly recommend recruiting this super-secret companion if you have the right power. He’s arguably the strongest companion in the game. Fluffles killed every other living thing in the area, so he’s got plenty of food and a nice open space to roam until I deal with Kreia. I just hope he gets along better with Atton... but I will choose Fluffles if it comes to that.

[jiusyn]

being a kafhime truther is being normally deranged and magnifying at the available dialogues to decipher and create meaning behind layers and layers of history we do not know of yet. quite frankly the reason why im still very much stuck in my own head bc of pondering through perspective methods to see why their dialogues and gestures the way they are (other than, ofc, writers and directors' decision)

think abt how 90 percent of himeko's dialogue is filled with direct and indirect mention of kafka during the destination alteration scene. and in a new player's pov, it can be treated as himeko's and kafka's 1st encounter— yet everyone can also notice how tensed and passive aggressive the atmosphere was when kafka appeared and took the floor. [case in point with himeko's reaction and body language: kafka appeared, himeko held her forearm in recognition and side-eyed kafka— shifting her head together with her body in an attempt to ignore kafka.

[bombastic side eye]

[owh girlie did not like it one bit]

[then, the famous tension scene that would make u want to rewind and see what u missed bc why is girlie so mad]

kafka nearing himeko's line of view; himeko glancing at her nails then crossing her arms in guard— again, in an attempt to dismiss kafka and assert that kafka's presence is not something that she can't handle. kafka paused intentionally, eyes looking forward yet the subtle and brief flicker of it, as if awaiting for any acknowledgement from himeko (himeko saying "stellaron hunter" with distaste) and when she did, kafka giggled. and kafka, well, she gestured at himeko as if it really was their first encounter, yet how she smirked at the end with eyes crinkling in the slightest tells otherwise.

march in an attempt to interrupt kafka's unwarranted presence but was subdued with himeko's signal. which makes u think cuz, really, who even lets a stellaron hunter even speak when others would immediately turn hostile against them and apprehend them asap.]

AND THEN...

himeko: perhaps next time you'll be willing to pay us a visit in person and we can continue our little discussion.

in kafka's companion quest:

"in person"

something abt how himeko keeps saying that in her dialogues when kafka's involved makes me think. makes a lot of us think. this then can probably cue us of how owlbert hinted (or even deadass exposed himeko) that they do have had encounters and it piques our interest as to how, why, when, and where in those moments — were they intentional? happenstance that turned to destiny? and so much more.

and how many in those encounters did himeko hoped that kafka would show up in person often than on wanted posters and news media and bulletin boards of her bounty and crimes? than on rumors and words from people's prejudices and opinions that she hears about her?

i can only make out from these dialogues is that himeko knows kafka (and the stellaron hunters) would need her help.

there is, after all, a grace of sincerity when someone shows up in person.

[argisthebulwark]

Time Moves Slow - Vilkas

sfw, gn reader Summary: After returning from Sovngarde the Dragonborn finds that a handful of hours for them has been years for those in Tamriel and reunites with their loved one. Others Linked: Farkas, Brynjolf, Teldryn, Miraak, Cicero

All duties were forgotten as your boots touched ground once more. Vilkas was all that mattered. Bruises ached with every step but you hurried through Whiterun without thinking - it was quieter than you'd expected, shops closed and stalls unmanned. Maybe they'd anticipated another dragon attack. The Gildergreen's branches stood bare and a few unknown citizens cast wary looks when you hustled toward Jorrvaskr. Heart pounding you shoved the hair out of your face, grimacing at the layer of dirt coating your skin before entering Jorrvaskr. The hearth’s fire banished the nervous chill from your bones. Companions filled every chair around the hall, some engaged in conversation and others hunched dutifully over books. The friendly buzz of conversation halted when you entered. You didn't know these eyes. Some held questions while others seemed hostile. "Who are you?" One voice broke the silence and panic set in. You'd only been gone hours. There was no chance someone scrounged up this many recruits in that small matter of time. "Who are all of you?" You'd never felt so lost in your own home. One woman swung an axe over her shoulder when she stood from the table. "Where is Vilkas?" "You know the Harbinger?" The woman's brow quirked up and your stomach dropped. At least she extended a hand toward the living quarters. "He doesn't get visitors. You should see him." Numbly you let the woman lead you through Jorrvaskr. The weapons adorning the walls were polished, portraits you'd never seen hung down the hallway. You swallowed a scream when you saw an accurate depiction of your face after Kodlak's. "Sir, you have a visitor." "I don't get visitors." Vilkas' grunt sounded rougher than ever. Your hands shook when the Companion cracked open the door to the Harbinger's office - there hadn't been a door before. You stared in awe at the scarred wood hung to make the Harbinger's quarters more private. "She seems to know you. Didn't tell us a name." The silence was so harsh you swore everyone in the hall heard your heart. "It'll only take a moment, sir." "Fine." He sighed and the woman snuck you a quick grin. You tried to return it but you couldn't shake the horrible sensation that something was deeply wrong. "Send her in. If it's a new recruit have Jorlyn ready the training yard." "Good luck." With an encouraging pat on the shoulder she departed. You stared at the crack in the door and gathered the screaming mess of your thoughts - Vilkas was behind that door. Had you somehow altered life on Tamriel after slaying Alduin? The World-Eater was surely important to the fabric of time, had you changed something fundamental during a few hours in Sovngarde? "Are you going to stand there all day, or can we get this over with?" All rational words were banished when you shoved open the door. Vilkas' dark hair was shorter than before and streaked through with grey. He flipped through some book and his foot tapped against the leg of his chair. Tears stung at your eyes when you took in the scars you'd never seen before, a clearly aged tattoo on his forearm, a wedding band on his ring finger. This couldn't be Vilkas - but that scowl didn't lie, you'd heard the voice that had whispered sweet promises to you only that morning. "Vilkas." Your voice broke around his name. His black glare finally tore away from the book and for one terrifying moment he didn't seem to know you. His thick brows tightened, mouth in a tight line when he turned to you. "My love?" His gaze softened when he dropped his work. He stood slowly, moving as if he feared approaching you. You couldn't stop tears cascading down your cheeks when Vilkas' fingers finally traced up your jaw, tugging you closer and allowing you to clutch at his unfamiliar armor. His stubble tickled at your skin when he kissed your face, eager hands drawing your body to his. "Where have you been?" His voice shook with each word. Your face stung from tears and Vilkas' familiar fingers combed through the back of your hair, one nervous kiss placed atop your head. "We have so much to discuss."

[eruscreaminginthedistance]

Finally got around to watching some post-embargo vids and I have some now updated Veilguard thoughts.

Stuff I liked:

Character creator is a standout as always. This has consistently been the strong point of Bioware's games in the last 10 years so no surprises there. The pronoun and other gender-related options are a welcome addition.

Companions all seem great. I'm sad we haven't got more Davrin or Bellara content yet, since those are the two I'm most interested in learning about. Their initial introduction in that terrible cinematic trailer didn't do these guys any favours, but seeing them in gameplay footage gives a much better impression of them. It's also exciting to see more companion-on-companion interactions and relationships.

I was put off by the voice acting in the 10 minute gameplay reveal months ago, but what I've heard so far has been much better.

Main menu looks pretty.

As an ME fan, I'm pro dialogue wheel; it's unfortunate that Inquisition turned that whole mechanic into a massive drip. This is less a thing I notice but something I hope, that this game's dialogue wheel will have a more DA2 or ME1 vibe.

Hngnggn vfjddjgfnbhn oooowowo o cloaks.

Stuff I didn't like:

The art style is not redeeming itself. Wolfheart made a very insightful point that it might be a holdover from when Veilguard was going to be a live service multiplayer game, and it definitely does give that impression. Everything is still incredibly smooth and it's clear there was a lot of effort put into making things "nice" looking. It's giving very "everyone's beautiful but no one is horny" to me. I'm on the haters' side with the Qunari; where are their textures?

On that note, oh my god. The UI and the VFX. This must have also been a result of live service elements. As someone who hates playing late-game mages in Origins because all of the VFX gives me a headache this game looks actively hostile. Does literally every single ability require flashing neon lights? Why does the UI look like a World of Warcraft meme? Why does every single interactive object glow? Wolfheart noted that even after turning everything off, a bunch of VFX elements were still present, which is tremendously disappointing. Bioware can miss me with this cocomelon for adults visual style; I just do not need all of these annoying tricks to try and keep my attention.

Also on the UI - idk man. Remember when fantasy games weren't embarrassed about looking fantasy? Remember when all of Origins menus opened up in a little book with parchment pages? Character selection took place in a little castle? I just don't get this Thing Bioware has had since 2 to make DA's game UI look cool and slick by taking all the fun out of its visual elements. I've heard it before but I've got to agree, Veilguard's UI looks like a mobile game. And again, it's so busy it's 100% gonna give me headaches.

The combat is.... I won't call it "bad". I just hate it. See above for one of the reasons why. I think I could write a whole essay on how discomfiting it is. The very very clear push (likely from EA) to have the game resemble big name titles like Breath of the Wild and God of War has taken the game in the direction of just kind of a generic hack and slash; at least DA2 married its action elements with its party mechanics and has its own unique voice. There's something in particular that sets my teeth on edge tbh. I'm watching gameplay of warriors and rogues in combat and they're pretty much indistinguishable from mages. Teleporting, fire and lightning flying about in basic attacks, just a ton of stuff that makes me cringe to look at. There's a complete lack of class fantasy there for me - why would I want to play a warrior that isn't just a big guy with a big sword? Is this a result of story elements? Why is my low level rogue demolishing entire groups of enemies ala Dynasty Warriors? In a world where the distinction between a magic person and a non-magic person is incredibly important, could cost you your life, watching a rogue shoot lightning out of their knives makes me groan. Are Bioware's efforts to make the player feel like the coolest specialist person that ever lived going to be addressed in-game? We'll have to see.

Lack of control over your own companions ala Mass Effect. I don't wanna talk about it it's too depressing.

I've noted this in the past but obviously the tonal departure from low/dark fantasy to classic high fantasy. The character backgrounds for the Rooks pretty much lock you into playing a good guy, which is a huge shame. Even if you want to pick a faction that is canonically shady or morally neutral AT BEST like the Crows, they make sure to tell you that the other Crows don't like you because you're just that good-hearted. In a faction like the Grey Wardens, notorious for taking in criminals of all stripes, you spend your background saving helpless villagers. What are the options going to be like for people who want to play morally grey or potentially evil Rooks? It's starting to look like Bioware isn't going to give you a much wiggle room to define your character out of what they need you to be.

Lip flap looks like a very mixed bag. Maybe it's just the footage but voices and mouths look out of sync.

Can't make a post without reminding everyone that Bioware isn't our friend; they've fired half the people who worked on this game and greedy producers like EA don't deserve our money.

Update: Only just came across this but phasing out inventory management? Yeah welcome back Mass Effect trilogy :/

Neutral opinions:

Other shit like the Darkspawn and overall mob designs have been a problem since DA2 so I don't see the point in rehashing it here, other than to say that I can't wait for the "DLC with the good Darkspawn designs in it" this time around.

Opening scene gives me huge Mass Effect vibes; the bar fight and the music in that scene felt very "Lair of the Shadow Broker", which I guess is a compliment.

Varric still not dead yet. Kill that old man!

Ultimately, I'm putting in prediction now that Veilguard is going to go the DA2 route of having a decent and well-loved story, but with massive issues regarding its gameplay and aesthetic that players will just have to get over in order to enjoy the game.

I'm not gonna be buying on release - first time that's been the case for a Dragon Age game since Origins; the current plan is to wait until the Christmas sales, which gives plenty of time for the fandom to either assuage my fears or implode cos the game is shit. Either that or the Solavellan content is so crisp and juicy I'll have to learn to pirate.

[gunraekae]

love transcending time - aka ikevamp unnecessarily narrated

>ikemen vampire

>everyone x reader

>a/n: dont mind me just leaving my cave to post this

trust i have a headcanon style post in the works and uploaded sometime in the next week or so, i'm just a bit overwhelmed with term papers and stuff sorryyy

enjoy and have a wonderful day dear

Chapter II: The Banquet

At the foot of the staircase was the mysterious gentleman I encountered at the Louvre. He gave a pointed glance to the men. At the sight of him, a wave of relief surged through me and I ran down the staircase towards him. 

“It’s you!” I hurried down and stopped short in front of him. Suddenly remembering my composure, I clarified the situation, “Pardon, but do you remember me? We met in front of the ‘Coronation of Napoleon’ and you helped me.” 

 I was met with a warm smile, “Of course I remember you.” Alright, I can ask him about an exit—any exit—and I can get a ride back to my aunt. 

Before I could ask him for directions, my saviour “Leon,” stepped in between us. “She says she came here through your door. Did you bring her?” His tone, and the way he hid me from the prying eyes of everyone, all of it feels as if he was… protecting me. 

“I did not. I can give you my oath if you wish,” the gentleman mused, “her arrival is just as surprising to me.” 

“Then how did she get here?” Although the men didn’t seem hostile, what they were talking about still made me uneasy. What did they mean by “his” door? And why did they talk about “my arrival” as if it was an impossible feat? Where even am I? I don’t understand at all. Something is very wrong here. I just need to get out. At the new wave of apprehension, I remember my aunt. She must be so worried. How long has it even been? I rummaged around my pocket for my phone. 2:50 pm. No signal. What is going on? 

I found the last ounce of courage I had and interjected, “You’ve been very kind, but I really can’t stay. I was supposed to meet up with someone. We’re still in the 1st arrondissement, yes? Where the Louvre is? That door there, does it lead outside?” I asked my questions rapidly before anyone could interrupt me. 

His expression turned difficult, “Hmm… I’m afraid the answers you seek will only confuse you more.” My pleading gaze met the gentleman’s golden eyes. “This isn’t the place for a long discussion, however. Would you join me for dinner, chère?” I asked a yes or no question. Any rationality left in my mind crumbled, and it seemed to show on my face, as the gentleman hurriedly added, “Tonight’s banquet is a rare occasion for us. But afterward, I will answer all your questions. S’il vous plait.” With a sigh, I resigned myself to his wishes. After all, if there was any person who knew my predicament, it was him. 

Having owned a travel blog, I’d been to many hotels, from the hidden gems to the 5-star establishments, I’d seen it all. The gentleman’s dining room was unlike anything I’d ever seen. A stretching room with a long, clothed table with fourteen high-backed wooden chairs framing it. The mahogany walls had intricate wooden carvings around the high ceiling, and a warm atmosphere coated the room with the chandeliers and the candelabras. Four men were already seated. 

The beautiful pianist with the sharp tongue sat at the far end, secluded from the others. He was true to his statement from before—he truly looked displeased in being here. 

Around the centre of the table sat two men beside each other. 

“Must’ve been something pretty important to keep us waiting here. One second longer and I would’ve left.” The first man’s voice was familiar, being the Englishman’s companion in the hallway I entered. His husky voice, with the Dutch accent, matched his appearance—domineering and brusque. He had slicked-back, brown hair and steely blue eyes with a cold expression. He donned a long grey coat, fastened with gold accessories on top of a dark blue sweater, layered over a neat white button-up; basically, what a sensible businessman would wear if he was born a century ago. His tall stature and strong build were noticeable, with him being the largest of the men so far. 

“Now, now. Getting angry about dinner is not going to make the food come out any faster.” The second man seemed the exact opposite, being much easier on the eyes. He had fluffy blonde hair, and even though the two had the same blue eyes, this man was so warm, you almost couldn’t tell. His dimpled smile was almost angelic. He wore a shorter dark brown coat with a yellow sweater on top of a white shirt, but the most attention-grabbing piece was his long yellow scarf loosely wrapped around him. He was somewhat smaller than his presumed brother. 

“I have to be angry for two, mijn broer,” the gruff one said. The two Dutch brothers seemed close despite being polar opposites. 

The kind brother’s eyes landed on me, and he gave a welcoming smile, “Who’s that? Do we have a guest? It’s nice to meet you!” 

My uneasiness was somewhat alleviated by his warm character. He looked like the paintings of the angels I’d seen in the musée. A few words from him make me feel like everything’s better. We need more people like him. 

The fourth man was sat a little ways away from everyone, head down and eyes studying the piece of tablecloth he was fiddling with. He looked slightly younger than the others, his innocent cherry eyes matched his auburn hair. He wore a sensible white button-up with a grey vest that had a red lapel. A golden button of an apple was stitched to the collar, giving his otherwise professional outfit an almost adorable finish. 

His gaze darted around the room, briefly meeting mine then quickly returning to the tablecloth, “Whoever you are, have you considered sitting down? There’s a queue behind you waiting to get in, you know.” His voice was light and airy with a crisp English accent. 

The Englishman’s chipper voice greeted the shy boy, “Newt, old boy, you do care!” 

He bristled, “Can you desist calling me that wretched—!” “Newt” placed his hands on the table, as though intending to stand up. 

A disciplinary clap sounded behind me. “That will be enough of that, you two. I require good manners at my table.” The gentleman gave everyone a warning look masked by his cordial smile. “Let’s be seated. There’s a few empty chairs, but we’ll have to start the toast without them.” The butler had already snuck into the kitchen, presumably preparing the dinner. The Englishman sat beside the gruff Dutch brother while “Leon” sat beside the shy boy. He gave me a warm glance as if reassuring me that I was safe here. I couldn’t muster up a smile, so instead I gave him a timid nod. Meanwhile, the gentleman gently placed a hand on my back and guided me to a seat beside his, which was at the head of the table. 

The various personalities together seemed as if they wouldn’t mesh well together, but surprisingly, with everyone seated down, it felt like they were all a family. 

“A vôtre santé!” The gentleman raised a glass filled with golden champagne in a toast. A chorus of toasts responded to him by the men. While most of the men kept drinking, the pianist took one sip before quickly placing down his glass. Not quite trusting the gentleman from his elusiveness, but wanting to be courteous, I pretended to take a sip instead. I was too wary. Too much didn’t make sense. It should be almost 3 in the afternoon, and yet I was having dinner in a strange mansion. I should have been at the Louvre with my aunt, and now I’m dining with seven strange men. Interrupting my thoughts, the butler brought out the first course. To say the food looked like a culinary masterpiece was doing it injustice. It was a classic French spread, the sort that I had at the hotels but somehow even better. Still, I remained wary and didn’t make a move. Instead, I turned my attention to my companions. Who are all these men? They seemed normal, if not odd, but their appearances were so unusual. And they were all from different countries, so was this an international meeting of some kind? They don’t seem to be friends, but it felt like there was an ambiguous intimacy between them all. The gentleman, noticing my uneasiness, inclined his glass my way. 

“Let us toast to tonight’s most glorious and miraculous encounter. Santé.” His alluring gaze was comforting, if not off-putting in its warmth. “...à la vôtre.” With such a direct toast, it was impolite not to respond in turn. I timidly raised my glass to his. He finished the rest of his champagne, locking his gaze with mine. Feeling guilty and slightly charmed, I took a small sip of mine. Unfortunately, it tasted wonderful. 

I turned back towards the food laid out in front of me. My stomach quietly grumbled; embarrassed, I looked around hoping no one noticed. Wishing to justify my hunger, I rationalized that it would be insulting if I didn’t eat. I tried the terrine. Pheasant with fresh basil. And it tasted as exquisite as it looked. The bisque was delicious too. You can taste the crab. It’s thickened just right! I closed my eyes. Whoever made this food should be as famous as Gordon Ramsay. My increasing satisfaction with the food was noticed by the gentleman, and awkwardly, I chirped, “My compliments to the chef.” The butler from earlier, who dutifully stood by the kitchen’s entry seemed to relax from his stiff composure. 

He chuckled, “he’ll be pleased to hear that.” Whether it was the champagne or his ardent smile, my nerves considerably eased. Maybe he’s just a harmless nobleman and I’m overthinking everything. Really, if you looked at this scene objectively, I was having a perfectly pleasant evening. Wasn’t this the sort of romantic adventure I was looking for in coming to Paris? 

At the gentleman’s words, the men’s amicable chatter was silenced. “You’ve outdone yourself again Sebastian.” His disarming charisma powered over the room. He looked over the men and said, “I believe we should take this opportunity to introduce ourselves to our guest. I will start us off. Everyone has taken to calling me Comte de Saint-Germain.” Comte? A whole count? Maybe that explains this old-word aura he has. “And once again, it’s a pleasure to meet you, chèrie.” 

“Oh no, the pleasure’s all mine, Comte,” I mumbled, slightly flustered at his manners and my lack of it. I could feel the manor’s members’ eyes on me, and my face warmed at the attention. God, I’m making such a fool of myself. Le Comte de Saint-Germain next turned to his servant. 

“This hard-working butler and the chef of tonight’s excellent banquet is Sebastian,” he fondly introduced. The stern butler from earlier formally bowed. 

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said. He spoke English with a faint Japanese accent. The butler Sebastian—how conveniently named. 

The Comte turned back towards me, “It occurs to me we haven’t heard your name yet. I’d be pleased to know it.” 

There can’t be any harm in telling them that. “I’m… MC,” I clumsily introduced myself. I avoided the eyes of everyone in the room, incredibly self-conscious and still apprehensive. 

“That’s such a pretty name,” the kind Dutch brother piped up. His angelic face, which was sat across from me, was the first to reply, “I wasn’t expecting someone like you to turn up here. I hope we can be friends.” I finally raised my head and met his eyes to be polite, and his expression looked relieved at that. “I’m Vincent van Gogh, I’m a painter. It’s really nice to meet you.” I almost choked on my spit. A painter… named Vincent van Gogh. Is this some kind of themed event? Hoping not to seem offensive at my clumsy actions, I mustered a smile back. He seemed too kind to deserve my stupidity. “And this is my little brother. Go on, Theo, introduce yourself.” 

“Vincent” gently nudged his brother, the gruff Dutch businessman. 

“Theodorus van Gogh. I’m an art dealer. Don’t confuse me with my brother.” 

“I’ll, uh, try my best.” They couldn’t be more opposite. I’m not confusing you two. “You’re not getting anything else from me. Introduction’s over.” To hammer in his point, he took a pocket watch from his coat and tapped it repeatedly, tap-tap-tap, to show that he had better things to do. How could Vincent be older? Theo had me pegged as the older brother with his seriousness. Realizing I was staring at the two of them in puzzlement, my gaze returned to the table. 

Sitting to the right of Theodorus was the shy boy, “Newt,” who was difficult to make eye contact with, the both of us too nervous. If he could’ve curled up into a ball to be swallowed up by the ground, he would have. That being said, doesn’t he live here? I had more of a reason to be afraid of him than he was of me. “I’m Isaac. Isaac Newton. I study physics.” 

“Nice to meet you… Isaac,” I choked out. A physicist named Isaac. They can’t possibly be serious. Despite the absurdity of this situation, I was still fearful of being deemed impolite. “Wait. Should that be ‘Sir Isaac—?’” 

Suddenly, one of the dining room windows burst open. To my surprise, a man climbed in from the outside. I flinched from my seat and quickly glanced around to gauge everyone’s reactions. To my surprise, not a single person looked even remotely startled. The man, who had dark hair and strikingly yellow eyes chuckled sheepishly as he struggled through the window. He had such an easygoing smile that betrayed his serious eyes. He had an old Taisho-style kimono, with a dark purple haori, black hakama, and an unbuttoned white shirt. “Well, well, would you look at that? I’m a little late, aren’t I?” He’d just about fully entered the room when his sleeve got stuck, “...In we go.” He pulled at it comically, his actions humorously exaggerated and ineffective. 

“God’s Truth, can’t you use a door?” Isaac sighed. 

“And keep everyone waiting? No, no, the window’s a much faster entrance.” He smiled, nonchalant about his sleeve still caught by the window. He caught my bewildered eyes. I sat back down, but couldn’t wrench my eyes away from the bizarre scene. “Oh, hello there, young one. Why, I’m happy to see you here. How’s your dinner been?” 

“It’s…good,” I sputtered out. 

“Isn’t it? Well, it’s a Sebas-kun meal, so you really can’t expect anything less. You wouldn’t believe how fast his cooking gets gobbled up here.” He nonchalantly mused and sat on Isaac’s right, who then slithered away from him. 

“Not to worry, you arrived just in time. We were just introducing ourselves to our new guest here.” 

“In that case, I’m Osamu Dazai, just a poor writer struggling to make his way in the world.” His eyes closed with his carefree smile, which made him all the more handsome. 

“Osamu Dazai. The writer. Okay.” I took a quick swig of my champagne. If I had to listen to the rest of these wild introductions I needed to be less sober. Should I have introduced myself as Marie Antoinette or something? I took a quick glance at the “van Gogh” brothers, who had started this odd chain of improv introductions. His smile seemed too innocent to be trying to fool me like this. Who the hell are these people? Is this some sort of prank? I glanced back at my now-empty glass. Was there something in my drink? 

Skipping several empty chairs was the beautiful and cold pianist I’d met earlier. The Englishman called him “Wolfie,” but I bet that’s probably short for—

“Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Composer.” Called it. His character seemed the least to play along in whatever nonsense chain the others made up. Of course, the pianist would be called Mozart. 

“...Hello, Mozart,” two words I never thought I’d utter in my life. 

The cheeky Englishman from earlier, who was practically buzzing with excitement piped up, “I do believe I’m next! I’m Arthur Conan Doyle. Mystery writer.” I pursed my lips and looked down at the table, uncertain whether I should laugh or sigh. “And don’t call me Sir, just Arthur. As long as I get to call you MC.” I quickly glanced up at him, and his eyes twinkled with delight. He, I could see was capable of making up this joke. But then, did that mean everyone was lying to me? No, not lying. They have to be pseudonyms. I looked around once again at everyone. 

Vincent. 

Theodorus. 

Isaac.

Dazai.

Mozart. 

Arthur. 

They have to be. Maybe they have to use fake names to keep their real identities a secret for some important reason. 

“I believe that leaves you.” Le Comte’s silky voice interrupted my racing thoughts. Only my hero remained. My protector. He was the only one who was genuinely on my side. The one who wanted me to get out of here. He promised to answer my questions. I trusted him, albeit instantly. But he couldn’t possibly lie to me too. 

With his eyes that hid nothing, my saviour looked at me and said, “Napoleon. Napoleon Bonaparte… I’m a soldier.” 

[fishloop]

ahem. jimmy is one of the most fantastically written envious characters ive ever seen. our worst moments do not make us monsters but dude DUDE the continuous one long really bad moment. you had your out and you couldn't get over it until the very end. its so. ooooough.

just one of the best characters ive ever seen put to fiction

he fucks me up so much he constantly digs himself deeper into his mistakes and comes up with solutions that make them worse. he can't admit any of it.

he is so full of contempt for curly that when he finds out they're all losing their jobs he turns it on Curly to somehow imply Curly is getting a positive out of it while also putting down everyone to imply that they are worth nothing. he's so perfectly flawed I love him. he resents curly because despite them being friends who have worked together for a long time he feels Curly is somehow better than him and in some ways he's right. Curly is kind and helpful while Jimmy is often pretty detached and hostile. Curly is very thoughtful while Jimmy is careless. He's the copilot for a reason. Real Brutus energy coming from him. (btw I hope this doesn't come across as me comparing Jimmy to the rage and resentment Brutus feels regarding being a woman and stuff.) <- i just mean he grows to deeply hate his companion and wants to be better than them or be them.

and in the end his negligence is what sets nearly everything into place and dooms them. he's so careless every step of the way no matter how much he claims to try and fix it. I love him for how much he misunderstands everything and fails LOL. his decision to put Curly first for once and take his own life is a culmination of all his guilt and frustration. I feel sad he killed himself of course and that's a horrible thing to do . but shows him prioritizing someone else for once. he gave curly the cryopod and because his other option was slowly die of thirst I appreciate he made the decision to end it early. I'm happy he finally grew enough to accept his mistakes and save Curly.

however I still cried I love this game and it's messaging. here's to my au called mouthwashing 2 where everyone survived sued pony express for poor working conditions and now live on the beach and get to drink martinis every day :)

[verai-marcel]

Your Hearth Is My Home (BG3 Fanfic, Astarion x Female Reader, Part 4 of ?)

Summary, Notes, Tags, & Part 1 are here.

Part 2 | Part 3

AO3 link is here, darling.

Act I, Chapter 4 - The Discovery

It was late afternoon when you heard someone, or something, trip the alarm spell. The party had left you alone while they investigated the bog south of here, so you had set up a series of trip wires with silver string that would chime a tiny bell on your belt. You had five bells, and the one you had marked as the water path had chimed. 

Pulling out your dagger, you crept over to the water's edge, hiding behind some boulders. Your hands shook nervously and you wiped the sweat from your palms more than once as you approached. You saw a decrepit silhouette casually walking towards the water's edge. It looked like a dried up husk of a man, and you wondered if it was hostile. 

"Thou may approach… I will not harm thee," the skeleton called.

You blinked. Deciding not to sheathe your dagger, you carefully walked up to the strange being and looked him over curiously. He observed you silently in return. 

"What—I mean… who are you?" 

"I am Withers," he replied. "That is all thou needst to know."

The hell it was. "Why are you in my camp?"

“Because this is where fate meant for me to be.”

He did not elaborate, nor did he respond to any other questions. Since he seemed content to stand still and do nothing, you sheathed your dagger and went about the rest of your day. 

When the party finally returned, you immediately asked them about the skeleton. 

"Oh, right. We found him in a crypt we were exploring when we were still staying at your cottage,” Gale answered.

When no one else offered any further information, you prompted them. “...And then what?”

“He said we’d meet again at the proper place and proper time. I suppose that’s now.”

You were a little annoyed by how nonchalant everyone was with a fucking skeleton appearing in camp, but you didn’t push any further. They all seemed physically and emotionally weary from their time in the bog and were barely talking to each other, let alone you. So instead you quietly served their meal and snuck away to the skeleton once more.

He looked at you quietly, clearly waiting for you to speak first.

“So. Fate really meant for you to be here?”

He nodded.

“What about me?”

“Thou, as well.”

You frowned. You didn’t like the idea that your choices were pre-ordained.

“But now that thou art here, the rest is up to thee.”

You also didn’t like that he was seemingly reading your mind. “Thank you for your… insight,” you replied before turning away.

***

You were no stranger to sleeping light; after all, you used to work for a masked lord of Waterdeep. Danger was a constant companion, betrayal a nonstop neighbor.

So when you felt a burning hunger in your belly, your eyes shot open immediately. You were surprised to see Astarion hovering above you, his hands splayed on the ground near your shoulders, his wrist only just touching your exposed skin. You were even more surprised to see that he had fangs, and that they were bared at you as if he were about to bite. 

When he realized you were awake, he jolted back. "Shit."

You sat up, observing him by the dim campfire light. Fangs. Pallid skin. Other memories bubbled up in your mind. The refused food. The dried up rabbit in your yard. His fear of crossing running water. Things you hadn’t paid attention to before, or perhaps, hadn’t connected.

Vampire.

His expression seemed more contrite than anything else, as if he were a child caught trying to steal an apple. Through his touch, you had felt an admittedly understandable hunger, but also a thin thread of fear. Damn your empathy, but you felt a bit sorry for the poor creature.

"If you were hungry, you should have just said so," you finally said.

He had looked so ready to talk his way out that your unruffled acceptance threw him for a loop. All he could do for a full second and a half was stare at you, dumbfounded. 

“Well?” You tugged slightly on the neckline of your shirt to expose more of your neck. “Are you hungry?”

He stumbled a step away from you, looking at you for a moment, then peered around frantically, clearly wondering if this was a trap. But everyone was sound asleep in their tents.

“Well, if you’re offering,” he replied as he regained his wits. He took one last look around before coming closer, kneeling beside you. His gaze seemed honed in on your neck.

You wondered for a moment if you were crazy. Deciding that you were, you reached out and touched his hand.

hungry fear never again—

You quickly moved your hand away. Taking a deep breath, you tilted your head to one side. “Just a few sips, nothing more. Just to regain your strength.”

He flashed you a smile, cocky and coy at the same time. “Of course. Just a little drink.” 

His hands rested lightly on your bare shoulders as he leaned in. The hunger was there, so strong that it made your hair stand on end. Was that what bloodlust felt like? Before you could ponder it further, the tip of his nose caressed the skin on your neck, and you suppressed a shiver. Whether it was from fear on your part, or from anticipation on his, you weren’t sure.

You felt the heat of his breath on your neck. “Ready, darling?”

“Just hurry up.”

He chuckled darkly. “If you insist.”

Then he bit you.

The sting of icy needles into your neck contrasted wildly with the heat of his mouth on your skin. But you weren’t prepared for how much more you felt from him, so much more than a touch on the hand. You had steeled yourself for some emotional transfer, but this was beyond anything you had ever felt before. You felt the clawing hunger that suffused his entire body, a pain far worse than the cold stabbing of his bite. Twisted within the hunger was lust, a craving both arousing and triggering your fight or flight instinct at the same time. And beneath all of that, a deep relief, as if he had been saved from something he greatly feared. The emotion was so heartrending that you wanted to cry. 

Overwhelmed by everything, you lost the strength to sit up. You whimpered as you began to fall backwards.

Suddenly Astarion was holding you, one hand supporting your back, the other cradling your head as he followed you down. He gently set you down on your bedroll before he released you from his bite and pulled away. His face had an inscrutable mask, but you could feel something from the physical contact. He was… Touched. 

He stared at you for a moment, his scarlet eyes glimmering, a bit of blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. His tongue flicked out to clean the blood from his lips, then he reached out and brushed your neck wound with his finger. Slowly, he brought his finger to his mouth and licked the last few drops, closing his eyes and savoring the flavor. 

Then he opened his eyes and stared at you once more with a serious expression. "You've given me a gift. I won’t forget that."

You were silent for a moment, entranced by his gaze. "Do you feel better?"

He nodded. "I feel stronger. My mind is clearer. I feel… Happy."

“Good,” you said, your voice strained with the effort to speak. “Glad I could help.”

He tapped your nose playfully. "You did. Now get some rest, darling. As delectable as you are, I need something a bit more… filling." Standing, he turned and walked away, looking quite a bit more haughty and hale. 

And so you had made another poor decision, dear witch. 

Or was it?

***

The next morning while everyone was getting ready, you made your way to Astarion’s tent. You hadn’t seen him yet, and you wondered if he had managed to hunt something last night.

Is he still hungry?

Just as you were about to call out to him, he burst from his tent, a fucking ray of sunshine. He was all smiles and cheer, especially when he saw you.

“Ah, my sweet little treat. Come to check up on me?”

“I did, but clearly you’re doing just fine.” You should never have worried. But you looked him up and down, just to make sure. “You seem healthy.”

“I am, thanks to you,” he purred, smiling at you a bit too prettily. A tremor of caution went down your spine, as if you were staring down a predator who was lulling you into a false sense of security. He stepped a bit closer to you, his voice dropping to a sultry murmur. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you lied. You were decidedly not fine; your neck was sore and you felt some fatigue. Any of the others would probably wave this off as a little bug bite and nothing more, but you did not have the strength or stamina of a road-hardened adventurer. 

A question suddenly bubbled up from your mind, and before you could think better of it, you asked, "Did you pick me because I'm the weakest?"

His perfect smile suddenly faltered. "Believe it or not, that wasn't the reason." He looked away, suddenly a little shy. "You… smelled the sweetest."

You raised an eyebrow. "You say that to all your blood donors?" 

He turned back to you. “I’ve had this condition for two centuries, but truth be told?” He cleared his throat. "You were my first," he mumbled. 

You stared in shock, but as he continued to explain himself, you started to believe him. His floundering rang of truth.

“You were delectable. And now I just can’t help but wonder how the others taste.”

As he rattled off his conjectures about everyone’s flavor, you had to wonder: Did he just like the sound of his own voice?

“What about you? Who would you want to taste? Hypothetically, of course.”

You grimaced. “I’d rather starve.”

If you hadn’t been watching him so carefully, you wouldn’t have noticed the slight twitch of his eyebrow. “Come now. This is a mere thought experiment. Pick someone.”

“Well…” you trailed off, looking around at everyone as they got on with their day. You turned back to Astarion. “Probably you, since you’d be the most accepting.”

“Not because you think I’d taste the best?” 

“I wasn’t even thinking of that,” you confessed.

You could see the gears turning behind his eyes as he observed you. You weren’t sure what he was calculating in that head of his, but you were pretty sure you wouldn’t like it.

"So what did I taste like?" you asked out of curiosity.

He stared at you so intensely that you regretted asking.

"You don't have to answer," you quickly added. 

He hummed before he leaned in, his breath on your cheek as he murmured secretly, only to you. "You tasted like the purest, sweetest honey wine."

You turned your head slightly to meet his gaze. With him looking at you like he wanted to eat you right up, you suddenly wanted to run. 

“Erm, right. Well, I better get going then,” you said, quickly turning around and bailing from the conversation like your life depended on it. 

Perhaps it did.

***

While most of the party was away, you began to take down the camp. Karlach and Wyll had offered to stay behind and help you move all the gear to a new campsite closer to the druids’ grove while the others investigated a possible cure.

The two of them were relatively chatty with each other, which left you time to stew over this morning’s interaction with the noble.

No, the vampire.

You replayed the conversation in your mind. His flirty posture. His beguiling tone. It was as if he was luring you in, playing at being attracted so you would feel the same in return. Give something to receive something, you supposed. It all seemed very constructed, and didn’t match the fleeting moments of shyness, which were much more charming to you.

He had nothing to gain from making you fall for him, other than your continued donation of blood. But you would have done that anyway. You liked taking care of your companions. It brought you joy.

Why is he doing this? Does he think I wouldn’t feed him otherwise?

As you spaced out, lost in your thoughts, the others had completed cleaning up their sections of the camp and packed things up. Karlach came up to you, waving her hand in front of your face when you didn’t respond to your name.

“You alright? You seem a bit tired,” she commented. 

Shit. Can’t let them know anything. “I’m good!” you replied, wrapping the scarf around your neck a little more securely before quickly getting everything else ready to go.

As the three of you hiked to the new area, your thoughts kept wandering, and so too did your perception of Astarion. Something wasn’t adding up. He was a noble, a flirt, and unapologetically snide at times. But he had fears, shadows in his heart that didn’t make sense to you.

Unless…

You thought of a lion, caged in a circus. Forced to perform, perceived as mighty, but treated like property, only useful if it played along. A chained beast that lashed out in fear, having only experienced the worst.

Admittedly, you didn’t know much about vampires. But you did know about emotions.

Your heart clenched as the direction of your thoughts turned dark. You had a hunch and you didn’t like it.

If I’m right, then I should handle him with more care. But I hope to the gods that I’m wrong.

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

Chapter Notes: I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I really wanted to bring my own spin to this scene. Let me know what you think in the comments!

[amethystinam]

attendre l'aube ✹ (tav & shadowheart)

⟡ characters : tav (gnowee) & shadowheart ⟡ content : enemies to friends ; sharran shadowheart ; fluff (i think?) ⟡ words : ~ 970 ⟡ notes : since shadowheart is gnowee's best friend in her canon, i thought narrating their beginnings could be a good idea ♡ ⟡ warning : english isn't my main language, so i apologize if there are some mistakes! be kind :)

Odd.

Within a few days, the Emerald Grove already felt like a… safe place. Perhaps thanks to the other tieflings? Or to the peaceful landscapes they were surrounded by? Anyway, Gnowee was fine, and it was enough for now.

« Why are you smiling? »

She found her way back in reality, facing Shadowheart. The dark young woman was staring at her suspiciously – without any true hostility, though. As a cleric, moreover from the Light Domain, Gnowee shouldn’t have understood. She should’ve trusted the world, searched for this tiny spark everyone hides… somewhere. Yet, she didn’t.

She had never been able to be an ingenuous kid.

« Lost in thoughts. » she answered with a little smile. « This place is kind of relaxing. »

« I’m not so sure. » retorted her companion. « We must be cautious, remember? Don’t let your god’s sun blinds you. »

Gnowee remained silent, deciding not to react at her last comment. She was able to endure it. Lathander perceived how much she loved Him, how much she cherished His dawn – no need to initiate a conflict. Shadowheart was just trying to test her.

They were sitting near the Sacred Pool. Behind the defensive ramparts, the chosen of the First Druid Kagha were singing around their precious Silvanus idol, creating beautiful green lights similar to nebulae. Of course, Gnowee knew this, the Rite of Thorns, was about to provoke a tragedy – still, the scene was hypnotizing.

« I don’t know how to convince Kagha to stop this foolish ritual. » she suddenly said.

« We don’t have to. » reacted Shadowheart. « Zevlor and his… clan, or whatever, have to manage to leave the Grove by themselves before it’s closed. Our time is too short to help every weak person we meet, Gnowee. »

« It’s the right thing to do. Don’t let your goddess’s darkness blinds you. »

« Get lost. »

Shadowheart confided her, quite quickly after their encounter on the beach nearby, that she worshipped Shar, Mistress of the Night. Even if it was totally opposed to Gnowee’s convictions and beliefs, she decided to… no, not really accept it. Ignore it, more likely. As her new “mate” said, their time was short anyway. They had to work together, in order to get rid of their tadpoles.

« I won’t fail my kin. » insisted the tiefling. « They deserve to arrive at Baldur’s Gate safely if it’s the place they could finally be happy. »

« You’re so sweet. » ironized the other cleric. « You know what? Go and do what you want. But don’t expect me to help, I’m not their damn mother. »

« Alright… What will you do, meanwhile? »

« I’ll search after this famous healer, Nettie. Let’s meet at camp when we’re done, okay? »

Gnowee nodded.

« Take care. » she added before entering the Pool.

She knew without hearing it that Shadowheart grumbled at her words. Still, she didn’t said anything mean, which was progress. Despite her apprehension towards Shar, Gnowee was really worried about Her amnesic worshipper – no matter for how long they knew each other. There was something in both of them that echoed since the first time, and she truly wanted to discover what it was.

Maybe the pure darkness Shadowheart carried could accept a touch of Lathander’s light…

« Kagha is an awful person, once and for all. » complained Gnowee when they returned to camp much later. « Can you believe she was about to hurt a child? »

Shadowheart didn’t respond, focused on the campfire. Apparently, it was her turn to be lost in thoughts…

« Are you okay? » tried the tiefling. « We can speak of something else, if you want. »

That wasn’t in her habits to initiate a conversation. She indeed really wished to learn more about her companion… But, moreover, she felt painfully lonely without her adoptive family and her cat, stayed at Waterdeep. She missed the Spires of the Morning, home, so much.

She needed some gentleness – even if it came from a Sharran.

« Nettie attempted to poison me. » abruptly confessed Shadowheart.

Heavy silence.

« I explained our condition to her, did my best to be honest… And she took a damn toxic branch to slay me. »

She looked at Gnowee, who saw tiny tears shining near the edge of her eyelids.

« I-I can’t remember who I was before the mission Mother Superior gave me. All I can tell is that Lady Shar is my only compass in all that mess. Yet… »

A deep, obviously well-known sorrow changed briefly her sweet face, making her lips trembled while she fought against it.

« She doesn’t talk to me, never. I nearly died today, but I didn’t… deserve a single word to guide me, reassure me. I even killed the druid, hid her body, hoping my reliable blades and my faith would-… »

Gnowee blenched.

« Y-you didn’t have any other choice, right? » she reacted with fear.

Every life was sacred to the Lord of Birth and Renewal. It wasn’t the appropriate time for this, but she couldn’t help it.

« It was me or her. » sighed Shadowheart. « I couldn’t risk being infected by wyvern toxin. »

« Wyvern toxin? » repeated Gnowee.

« You surely aren’t familiar with poisons, are you? »

« Not really. They’re not part of our lessons in Lord Lathander’s church. »

« I could teach you. »

« Hmm. What if we just… admire the night instead? »

The other cleric appeared perplexed, while Gnowee felt her own embarrassment grow. How was she supposed to cheer up someone like Shadowheart? And why did she suggested such a silly thing first?

« Seriously? »

« W-why not? » she shyly confirmed, though. « Aren’t you a dark’s worshipper or something? Surely it’ll please your goddess. »

« While it won’t bring you anything. »

« No bother. I’ll… wait for dawn with you. Just a matter of perspective. »

Green eyes to orange eyes. And that was it. Different kinds of loneliness, pain, trauma – they’d have to comprehend through their journey.

Their weird friendship had just begun, at the exact moment when night and dawn are about to meet.

[moss-sprout]

Trails Of Roses

I wanted to make something for prinxiety week and really felt inspired by todays prompt: Roses!

Tags: @prinxietyweek

Summary: Roman goes to the imagination a lot to go on his creative and adventurous journeys. Sometimes he’s only gone for a while, a few hours or days. But other times he could take weeks to return, the longest being 2 months without returning. Virgil develops hanahaki while Roman is away, and in order to preserve his own life, goes after Roman.

Word Count: 3,864

TW: Hanakahi Disease, Slight blood, Swear words, Description of animal death

_ _ _

Tim Burton has always been Virgil’s pick of movies, so it was no surprise that the other sides surprised him with Corpse Bride and some pizza for his birthday. What was a surprise, was that Roman conducted the whole thing, being the most insistent on performing grand gestures. It shouldn’t’ve been unexpected really, but Virgil was still not fully used to their blooming friendship after they used to be so hostile towards each other for months, only to finally find common ground and slowly build their acquaintanceship to form a strong friendship. Corpse Bride wasn’t his favorite movie by Tim Burton, but it made sense that Roman picked it -- being the most romantic of the sides. Currently the sides were all sitting together on the couch, Logan leaning against the arm of the left side of the couch with a mug of coffee, making occasional critiques on the movie's inaccuracies and logical solutions that could’ve been made. Patton was sitting on the couch next to Roman and Virgil -- Roman being the closest to Virgil, their shoulders almost touching despite there being plenty of room on the couch for more space. But Virgil didn’t mind for some reason, Roman was a good movie companion to murmur songs and snicker about inaccuracies with. Roman was currently tapping along to the Piano Duet on Virgil’s wrist, which made the movie slightly more difficult to pay attention to. 

The movie eventually ended and they all talked about as normal for a while before Roman squeezed his wrist gently and let go to stand, walking to the center of the room. The conversation fell quiet as they all stared expectantly at Roman.

“My friends! I am sorry but I must announce my departure! The Imagination calls to me once again. There is no telling when I will return, but I leave tonight.” This wasn’t unusual. Every so often Roman would announce he’s leaving for another adventure in the Imagination.

“Oh! Good luck, Roman!” Patton squeaked hopefully.

“I never understand why you depart yourself to these frivolous adventures-”

“Lo, be nice! This is important to him!” Patton cut in and Logan sighed before attempting to pull his face into something that looked something like a face of agreement.

“Not that I’m offended,” Roman said in a very offended tone, “but I do it because I have citizens to save, witch dragons to slay, nothing that your math equation filled brain could comprehend anyways.”

“It’s an imaginary state of mind there are no real peop-”

“Anyways,” Roman cut him off, earning an unsatisfied grunt from the other, “I have an important project to tend to in the imagination and I won’t be here.”

Virgil wrinkled his nose, “weren’t you just there last week?”

“Well.. yes…”

“And imaginary citizens can’t wait for their prince to slay their imaginary dragon?”

He sighed, “I understand it’s your birthday Virgil, but I assure you this is of the utmost importance. I’ll make it up to you when I’m back.” he said with a wink. A flustered expression flashed across Virgil’s face before he turned away, attempting to hide it with his bangs.

“Wh-whatever.” he murmured.

_ _ _

A few hours later, Virgil was in his room when he heard chatter in the hallway. Looking at the clock on his wall he realized it must be time for Roman to go – making it dramatic as he always does by formally saying goodbye to everyone beforehand. He figured he should go say goodbye and sunk down to join the others in the corridor. 

Rising up, Roman stopped mid-conversation upon seeing Virgil, his face lighting up “Virge! You never come to see me before I leave.”

“Yeah well, someone’s gotta tell you not to get eaten by some demon bunny when you step into the unknown.”

Roman gasped, a dramatic hand flying to his chest, “you have so little faith in me?”

“Not since you almost died trying to approach a hallucinatory cow.” he smirked smugly.

Logan turned to him, confused, “how do you know it was hallucinatory?”

“He was in a boat. In the ocean.”

Roman sputtered, his face turning red, “T-that only happened once! And you try being stranded on a boat for two days! Things happen.”

“Well you better start to mooove it before you’re late for your journey, Roman.” Patton grinned, and behind him he heard Logan heave a deep sigh.

“Thank you, Patton. I bid you all farewell until our next fateful moment!” he called, beginning to step back toward his room. They all said a final goodbye before the door shut. Logan said something about having to check on something in the oven, and Patton followed closely behind him. Virgil lingered in the hallway for a moment, just staring at Roman’s door before sighing, shaking his head and turning to walk away. But just as he did his eye caught sight of something shiny. He immediately halted and turned to look again, making sure his eyes weren’t just playing tricks on him. On the floor by Roman’s door was something small reflecting in the moonlight from the window. He bent down and picked it up, revealing a small jar of.. Something.

His eyes widened with the realization that this was probably important and fell out of his pocket when he was leaving. He quickly burst into Roman’s room, only to find it empty.

He was already gone, and probably wouldn’t be back for a while. Time in the imagination worked differently than in the mindscape, he wasn’t sure if even Roman knew how it worked; so he’d be gone for a while. Virgil just hoped that the bottle was nothing important. He clutched it into his palm, staring quietly at the door that led to the imagination. 

Virgil vaguely wondered for a moment what Roman would be doing on his journey, and what was so important that he needed to do it tonight. Normally, he would be preparing weeks in advance but he just suddenly mentioned it tonight. 

He suddenly became very aware that he was inside of Roman’s room. He hasn’t been in Roman’s room very much, and never for very long. The room was casted by moonlight by the large windows, the red curtains and bed set glowing amongst all the white and brown in the room. The room also smelled heavily of Roman, with his rose water perfume and lingering scent of fresh paper. It caused him to relax a bit, the familiarity creating a safety net over him from his anxiety. His friend had now provided more comfort for him, feeling strangely safe and content whenever he was nearby. 

He coughed, shaking his head before heading to Roman's door. It would be awkward to explain why he was just standing in Roman’s pristine room if he was caught here. Roman’s room was beautiful but he felt so odd in there, his black and purple clashing with the soft whites and reds. Elegancy against ruggedness. 

He reached the door before doubling over into another coughing fit. He quickly went straight to the bathroom to grab some cough medicine from the bathroom before Patton could notice and force Virgil to take another “sick day”. He shuddered upon remembering what happened last time Virgil showed the slightest sign of sickness. He opened the cabinet grabbing the cough medicine and shut the cabinet. He glanced at himself for a moment but looked back when something caught his eye. He squinted at himself in the mirror when he spotted a splash of red on his hoodie. Slowly, he brought his hand to it and gingerly touched it. He grabbed it in his fingers and pulled it off, examining it. 

He stared at it for a moment, confused. It was… a petal? Or something like that. It was red and soft and when he hesitantly smelled it, it smelled like a flower – probably a rose or something like that. Virgil figured that Roman had a draft in his room and he probably had a flower vase in there that caught the wind and blew a petal onto his shoulder. He brushed it off, pushing the odd petal to the side of the sink and resumed with the medicine. 

He downed the cough medicine, cringing at the strong taste of artificial cherry flavor that Patton got before coughing more. He groaned, not wanting to deal with being sick. He hung his head but froze when he saw the sink. Slowly, he lifted his head, not taking his eyes off the sink as he stared. There… There were more rose petals, about 6 of them in the sink bowl. Virgil rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn’t seeing things but they remained. He stuck his hand down and grabbed one, making sure it was real. It looked almost identical to the one he pulled off of himself earlier. He felt something on his tongue and pulled one out of his mouth. He stared at the bowl as he began to comprehend what this all meant. 

The word “hanahaki” flashed across his mind and he blinked, remembering the infamous fanfiction trope. He’d vaguely wondered if this applied to him, but shook his head dismissively. He didn’t fully understand what was happening but it was late and he was sure to be fine tomorrow. He scooped up the petals and threw them in the trash before brushing his teeth and going to bed.

Everything will be fine tomorrow.

_ _ _

Everything was not fine. 

The day after coughing up the first petals – his throat felt a bit clogged and throughout the day he would cough into his palm to see more of the obnoxious red flower petals. 

He did some searching on the internet, and after a brief Google search he found he obtained the symptoms of Hanahaki Disease… somehow. The petals were red and of Roman’s favorite flower, so he put two and two together and realized his affections must lie in Roman.

Only problem was Roman wasn’t back yet, and there was no telling when he would be back. According to a fanfiction site, if they didn’t get something done about the flowers soon, then whoever had it would die of suffocating on the flowers. But Virgil was still shy and didn’t know what to do, so he waited, figuring Roman would probably be back soon enough so he could confess and rid his lungs of them.

Unfortunately, waiting didn’t work. He waited three days and checked Roman’s door frequently to see if he’d returned. His hanahaki hadn’t gotten any better, and his petals became harder to hide and more frequent.

During breakfast on the third day, they were all eating the pancakes Patton made when Virgil fell into a coughing fit, the red petals falling from his mouth in front of his other two roommates. When they asked about it, he gave up on hiding it, explaining the story to them.

And that led to where Virgil is right now, at Roman’s door to the imagination. After a flustering conversation with Patton and Logan, they agreed that waiting would be risky, and it would be a good idea to look for him in the imagination. They weren’t too happy about it, seeing as Virgil has never been inside the imagination, and would have no idea where to find Roman. But it was either that or waiting, which proved itself to be unsuccessful so far. They had packed a bag together, one with a first aid kit – including some medicine that Logan thought could slow the hanahaki. It also had food and water for his journey. He stared unmoving at the door, fingers fidgeting with his sleeve before he took a deep breath and opened the door.

The other side was bright. A soft white glow illuminating from the door, sparks of colors floating out of it. He took a step in, and suddenly he was falling.

Virgil woke up on a soft patch of grass. He groaned, sitting up and scanning the realm.

“So this is the imagination..” he muttered softly to himself as he surveyed the area. It was pretty, with valleys under a cloudless sky and a large body of water off to the right side of him. He stood and walked forward toward the edge of the hill, revealing a small town below. He couldn’t tell if there were people there – even if fake, the thought of being surrounded by strangers made him shudder in fear. 

“Well,” he said to no one, “I better start going if I’m going to find Roman.” He chose a direction on where he guessed Roman would be and began walking.

It quickly occurred to him that he had no idea what he was doing. He didn’t know where anything was and there wasn’t a definitive path he could’ve taken. He even got the courage to walk to town and see if there was any information he could get from the villagers, but they weren’t programmed to answer Virgil’s specific questions – so they either broke or went back to their repetitive task.

The first day went by fast, and Virgil set up a spot to rest near the forest, planning to travel through the forest the next day.

Virgil woke to the sound of something being dragged. He blinked at the harsh sunlight in the sky and turned over, only for the dragging sound to stop for a moment before continuing. He blinked, sitting up, wondering what that noise was. All sleep left him as he faced a small dragon dragging his bag.

“Hey! Stop that! That’s mine!” he shouted, spooking the dragon. It hissed at him and grabbed his bag, flying away before Virgil could catch it.

“Seriously?! That was literally all I had.” he sighed, wondering how Roman put up with this place. “Well, better go through the forest before it gets late..” he sighed, turning to face the forest and head in.

It didn’t take more than a day and a half for Virgil to realize that the forest was either really big, or he was just walking in circles, because it seemed endless. His illness wasn’t doing great either – he’d read about the full flowers and hoped he wouldn’t get any, but he wasn’t so lucky. Every so often, if it wasn’t petals he’d be coughing up, it would be a full flower that he’d choke on, confirming it was in fact a rose.

Multiple days went on like this. After he’d escaped the forest he’d went on to more valleys and mountains. The imagination was much bigger than he anticipated, his hope draining fast. He was beginning to think it would’ve probably been better if he just stayed in the mindscape. 

He was hungry, not being able to find much food since that dragon went away with his bag. He was leaning against a wall in one of the towns he tried passing through. It was always the same answer he got whenever he asked: “did Roman come through here?” and the villagers would shower the prince with praise but wouldn’t confirm when they last saw him. That's what he gets for trying to make sense of fake people. 

Right when he was about to give up for the day, he spotted a bunny hopping not too far from him – having a snack on the grassy pasture. He licked his lips, it wasn’t much, but it might work. He crept towards it, freezing whenever it looked his way. He was so close when he felt his throat close up again. He mentally begged his lungs not to, but before he could stop it he was coughing again, startling the bunny. It snared its row – no, maybe two rows of sharp unnatural teeth at him. 

“Demon bunny?!” He cried out as it made its way towards him angrily. If he wasn’t so stricken with confusion and fear this situation might’ve been funny. 

But before it caught up to him something flashed in front of him, pinning the rabbit to the ground. It was the dragon! “Wait, you stole my stuff!” he shouted at it, but it ignored him, and began ripping the rabbit apart with its teeth as Virgil gaped, trying to process what just happened.

After a few bites it looked back at Virgil and made a weird gesture for him to follow. Virgil hesitantly started following it, not knowing what it was doing. Every few moments, he coughed again, a spew of flowers and petals trailing the ground, along with the untasty savor of copper thanks to the thorns that would rise in his throat. The dragon didn’t seem at all fazed by Virgil’s sickness however, and would keep coaxing him in a certain direction that Virgil felt compelled to follow.

After walking for what felt like hours, Virgil and the dragon reached a tower. It looked old but not terribly run down. It made a chittering noise and flew inside through one of the windows. Virgil slumped against the wall, feeling weak. Of course he follows a stupid dragon out to some tower where it probably just wanted to be fed or something. His dramatic sigh got interrupted by a series of more painful coughs. Virgil could still hear the dragon. Its chittering got louder and it was standing on the edge of the roof on the tower, making some calling sound.

Before Virgil could puzzle out what it was doing, he heard a louder, deeper version of the cry in the distance. Before long, there was a bigger dragon flying towards them. He choked on something between a gasp and a cry as he scrambled for his sore and tired legs to work so he didn’t get burned to a crisp by the dragon for being close to its baby. 

He couldn’t though. No matter what he screamed at his brain, he still sat there on the grass against the tower wall staring at the big dragon becoming bigger as it came closer, becoming more visible. It felt like his heart was in his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the moment the flames hit his skin as the flapping of its wings approached. This was it, he was never going to say goodbye to the others, or tell Roman how he felt, or ever watch Thomas grow up or-

“Virgil?!” his eyes snapped open at the familiar voice. There, on the back of the big dragon, was Roman, sitting on a saddle as he gazed baffled at the sight, obviously not expecting Virgil to be there.

“R-Roman!” he started, trying to get up, but his jelly legs sent him straight to the ground again with an oof.

“Wait, don't move, I’ll help you.” he heard Roman say as Roman unsaddled himself and approached him. “Virgil, what on earth are you doing here? The imagination is dangerous for someone as inexperienced as you.”

“Roman, I-” he was cut off once again but hacking coughs, feeling his throat close up with something rising through. 

“Virgil, breathe.. By the Gods of the Sun, how long have you been out here?” he heard him scold as he examined him. Virgil wanted to bite back but couldn’t even speak with the rose forcing its way out of his throat. After several painful moments it broke free and dropped to the ground along with some loose petals and Roman’s talking stopped as they both stared at the blood soaked flower in front of them. 

“Is… is that-”

“A rose. Yup, been getting them all week.” he replied, his voice still raw and raspy.

It was silent for a moment and Virgil heard Roman was about to say something but a chitter broke the sound instead, the small dragon came between them, saying something in some sort of dragon language to Roman.

“That’s where you went off to?! Y'know your mother and I have been looking all over for you this past week.” he scolded, but there wasn’t any anger in his voice.

The dragon chiddered some more before Roman rolled his eyes playfully and shook his head, “yes I can get it for you give me a moment.” he dug through his bag but seemed to realize whatever he was looking for wasn’t there and began to panic slightly. Virgil remembered the glass bottle a few days prior and reached in his pocket, relieved to find it still there.

“Are you uh, looking for this?”

Roman glanced up, “oh thank you, Virgil! I feared I had lost it. It’s her medicine I prepared for her so she would get over her sickness. Unfortunately, she’d snuck off and her mother was worried. We went looking for her, but it seems you found her first-” he rambled, but cut himself off, his eyes glazing over an emotion Virgil couldn’t read.

“Oh. Right. Virgil, what are you doing here?” he said in a soft tone, simply curious but not annoyed.

Virgil shifted, and if on cue, began coughing again, sprouting up more rose petals – thankfully not a flower this time.

“Um, well, you see – I have hanahaki.”

Roman blinked, “the fictional disease based on unrequited love?” 

Virgil shyly nodded. He waited for a reaction, maybe Roman would reject him politely, or would swoop him into a dramatic kiss, or perhaps would play koy. But he didn’t expect Roman to laugh.

Virgil watched as Roman laughed, stunned at the unexpected reaction. But before he could figure out what that meant Roman lit up, “who ever said it was unrequited?”

“I..”

“I thought I was quite obvious really.” he said before his expression dimmed to a softer one as he locked eyes with Virgil. The emo side shifted in awkwardness, for he didn’t know how to handle the soft affection.

“I actually came out here for you. I planned to be back sooner but the imagination never rests.” Roman said as he began digging through his bag. After a few moments he pulled out a small box and placed it in his hand, their fingers touching briefly as Roman pulled back his own hand. 

“Technically, I could’ve made that in my room, but it was easier and faster to create it here. It’s kinda why I come here a lot.” he shrugged, soundly oddly timid.

Virgil’s fingers smoothed over the wooden box before lifting up the lid. Immediately a soft familiar tune began playing from it.

“Is this..” he breathed, barely loud enough for anyone to hear as the music box continued to play.

“It’s a small collection of Tim Burton songs! It was a little challenging to make because I had to really focus on the tunes in order to get them perfect but-” he stopped when Virgil looked up at him, small pools forming in his eyes.

“Oh goodness, do- do you not like it? Sorry I-” he was cut off by Virgil wrapping his arms around Roman’s neck and pulling him into a kiss.

“Of course I love it, dumbass.” he chuckled. “It’s sappy and thoughtful and… totally you.” he smirked and Roman returned with a beaming smile.

For the first time in days, Virgil thinks he can breathe again.

[janekestrel]

bg3 multiplayer is very good

Just some of my favorite moments so far from the bg3 multiplayer game @icapturedthecastle and I have been playing:

Sarah constantly asking "what are you stealing???" when my Durge and Astarion are running around somewhere she can't see us and the activity feed says we succeeded on a sleight of hand check

Me making Sarah do every interaction with Gale because I cannot be trusted not to romance him

"Gale's kinda petty when he's drunk" "You shouldn't even be talking to Gale, you know better than that" "I WAS LEFT UNSUPERVISED"

Sarah making us reload like three times because Shadowheart kept rejecting her at the tiefling party - "how do I accidentally romance her EVERY TIME but when I'm trying to do it on purpose she turns me down???"

Giving every character either the magic violin or the Performer feat so they can be in a band with my Bard Durge - except for Sarah's character who she prefers to have bang on a drum with us like an "enthusiastic toddler"

We were having fun with Boo the hamster and throwing him around our Elfsong hotel room, but then Sarah threw a health potion at him to heal him and every single companion went hostile because they thought we were attacking him

Yelling at Gale for being too handsome with the bun mod we both went out of our way to download

"I'm sorry Gale. I just... can't be around you when you look like this, I'll catch you on the next playthrough" "Every time you walk past him it's just that one song by Rascal Flatts playing"

I'm in the temple talking to Orin as Durge for the first time and Sarah just goes "oh by the way this is a duel. Sorry, I should have told you that. Before the duel was starting."

My cat turning off my computer by stepping on the power button right after the Orin duel before I'd been able to quicksave

During the second attempt at the duel, managed to do 75 damage to her with one Disintegrate scroll and felt super badass, then Sarah accidentally attacked one of the priests and turned everyone aggro at all of us

(Third attempt at the duel went fine and took like three turns)

In the underwater prison we both forgot to have our characters go up the ladder which led to this hilarious screenshot

Racing after every long rest to see if I can put my Lesser Restoration amulet on and heal my Bloodless condition faster than she can get Paladin!Karlach over to my character to do it

Heckling Gortash after casting Otto's Irresistible Dance on him

Sarah hoarding explosive barrels in huge OSHA-violating stacks

"Um, this Steel Watcher is definitely about to blow up right next to all your barrels" "NOOOO, MY BARRELS"

The barrel hoarding majorly paying off in the House of Hope

Me blearily using a fire spell on some enemies in the House of Hope and Sarah going "fire damage? really? we're in hell"

(after Sarah learned I just didn't even try to solve the Act 3 murders in my first playthrough) "So now we go talk to this lady and she pays us a bunch of money. That's why we help people." "That's why we... do quests? Got it"

Breaking into Dammon's house to find his smutty literature