#away i go to my dungeon to grind these things out

[imsobadatnicknames2]

Unironically one of my favorite things about Daggerfall's main questline is how it lets you loose with no instructions other than "talk to the members of the three main royal families ig" and then as soon as you hit level 3 you get a letter from Princess Morgiah like "I might have some of the info you need, come see me at Castle Wayrest teehee ;3" and then if you go talk to her right away you're basically fucked because as soon as you go talk to her she sends your level 3 ass to Scourg Barrow which is a dungeon you DEFINITELY aren't prepared for at that point unless you're doing an extremely optimized powergaming build and it's not like you can just leave and grind a few levels and come back later bc as soon as you talk to her and accept her quest she gives you a 30 day time limit and if you're not back by then then the quest fails and you get locked out of completing the main questline forever and if you don't accept the quest when you first talk to her you also get locked out of completing the main questline forever.

I love 90's RPGs so much.

[loveletterlore]

masking the truth ♡ e.m. x reader

pairing: eddie munson x reader

summary: reader is not having a good time at Steve's Halloween party, Eddie seems to be having a great time, unbeknownst to each other that they'd much rather be together.

warnings: angst, eddie and reader are dummies who don't realise they are both pining, fluffy angst kind of idk

word count: 2.1k

authors note: omg first fic on this account I'm so scared ahaha. recent life things have led me back into the arms of Eddie and you know what, fuck it

Steve’s Halloween parties were legendary for a number of reasons: awesome costumes, lots of booze and usually some decent drama. Little did you know, this year the drama would be you.

You had turned up to the party late, still reeling from an argument with your sibling over who would be which Disney princess, which had blown wildly out of proportion when they had started getting too personal with the digs. Anxiety had settled over you in the car ride over, your knee bouncing and fingers picking at the fabric of your outfit. As soon as the car rolled to a stop, you flung the door open and jumped out, beelining for the house in search of alcohol and him.

The front door was propped open with a beer keg, the jocks crowding around and chanting random noises, not even sounding like words. You headed for the kitchen, looking for any sort of bottle that you could grab and chug. You found a bottle of vodka, still half-full, flicked off the cap and took a large swig, drops gliding down your chin from impatience. Wiping your face, your eyes searched the crowd for a recognisable face.

You spotted the hair before you saw the face. The host himself, Steve Harrington, was dancing with a group of girls in the center of the living room, hands in the air and a wide grin on his face. His eyes drifted around the room before meeting yours, waving his hands and gesturing for you to come over. You waved back before indicating to the other room, opting to find some more of your friends rather than break those girls’ hearts by stealing their King.

Another gulp of vodka down, you threw yourself on the sofa next to Robin, leaning your head on her shoulder.

“Hey loser,” Robin smirked, eyeing up your costume. “Wouldn’t you be more at home in a castle?”

“Shut up,” you huffed, bottom lip poking out. 

Robin took the bottle from your hand, taking a shot and giving it back with a grimace. 

“Why are you being grumpy?” Robin pouted down at you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Who hurt our little princess?”

“The nasty, evil witch known as my sibling,” you rolled your eyes, taking another drink. “Anyway, what are you meant to be?”

Robin’s outfit consisted of a red bodywarmer, denim jacket and sunglasses.

“Dude you’re joking right?” her eyebrows knitted together, genuine concern painted across her face. “I’m Marty McFly… Back to the Future… ‘Roads? Where we’re going we don’t need roads.’ How are we friends?”

“Because you love me,” you smiled up at Robin, the vodka finally in your system and blurring the edges. “And you don’t want to spend all of your time with Steve.”

Robin shuddered at the thought, “That is true. Where is he anyway?”

“Grinding on some girls in the other room. Who else is here?”

“The usual. Cheerleaders, jocks, ladies,” Robin wiggled her eyebrows at the last mention before nudging your shoulder. “I saw Eddie around here somewhere.”

Eddie Munson.

Known to some as “the freak” and to others as “the dungeon master”.

Known to you simply as Eddie.

You had been close with Eddie for a couple of months, after Dustin had brought Eddie and Steve together, uniting the friendship groups. His curly locks, ringed fingers, dimpled cheeks had you enamored from the first meeting, leaving you fighting a blush whenever you were in his company. 

Despite trying to remain cool at Robin’s words, your eyes scoured the room, looking for the curly mop of hair that would give away Eddie’s location. The previous feelings of anxiety bubbled in your stomach, the insecurities that had been thrown around returning to your thoughts. 

“He’s here?” you tried to keep your voice level, failing desperately to cover the shaking of your body. You tugged at your outfit, suddenly uncomfortable in your own skin, it was too short, too revealing, too showy. 

Robin’s eyes studied your face, noticing the sudden change. “Hey, what’s happening?”

“No, I’m okay, I’m fi-” your voice stopped as you found him. With another girl's arms around him. 

Of course. Of course he would. Why wouldn’t he? His recent alliance with Steve had raised his social standing, with girls now noticing him and wanting to “fix” him. It would make sense for him to take advantage of it. Your heart started racing in your chest. Of course it wouldn’t be you. Why would it be you? He had his pick of girls now, what made you seriously think that he would settle for you?

Robin’s eyes followed your steady gaze, landing on the sight you were fixated on.

“Dude, I don’t think-” Robin started, reaching the arm not around you to your other shoulder, trying to redirect your attention.

“I’m just gonna go, I shouldn’t even have bothered, this has been an awful night,” your voice wavered as you pushed Robin’s hands away. 

You stood on wobbly knees, hands shaking as you tried to pull your outfit over as much of your body as you could cover. Robin called out to you as you left but your feet stumbled along the carpet, aiming for the front door. As you passed through the living room, Steve’s eyes followed your figure, questioning why you were moving so fast and leaving so soon. You wrapped your arms around your waist, your limbs feeling heavy as your eyes welled up. 

Of course he wouldn’t want you. 

Why did you ever think it would be you? 

Just look at you. 

It would never be you.

You didn’t notice when it started raining, drops of water melting together with the tears that were streaming down your face. You were the epitome of a teenage disaster; walking the blocks home in a stupid skimpy outfit, hating yourself and sucker-punching your brain with self-deprecation every step of the way.

A cacophony of groans and whines erupted as Steve dragged himself away from the girls he had been dancing with, watching your figure racing out of the house. He heard his name coming from the other room, turning to meet Robin’s worried gaze.

“What’s up with that?” Steve pushed his sunglasses onto his head, nodding towards the door that you had just left. 

“I think we have a slight problem. You know how those two idiots don’t realise the thing?” Robin raised her eyebrows. “Thing go KABOOM.” 

Robin imitated an explosion with her hands, causing Steve to roll his eyes.

“God damn, do I have to do everything around here?” Steve started towards Eddie.

Eddie had removed his mask, looking flustered and trying to separate himself from the incredibly drunk girl who was draping herself over him. 

“Ma’am, please just-” Eddie was cut off as he was yanked away by the arm, turning to see Steve and Robin standing with hands on their hips.

“Okay dummy,” Robin started. “You fucked up.”

“How- what?” 

Steve tapped his foot impatiently, “The whole unrequited love thing? You need to go and fix it.”

Robin explained the situation to Eddie, whose face drained as he heard how you had left. His heart skipped a beat as Robin told him how you had been pining over him as much as he had you. 

“Shit. I gotta go.”

Your sobs were muffled by the blanket you had wrapped yourself in, cocooning yourself in an attempt to drown out the outside world. You had your Walkman turned up to maximum volume, the headphones digging into the side of your head as your body shook with each cry. Nothing could stop your mind from racing, thoughts running at light speed.

You’re not good enough. Who would want you? Of course Eddie Munson would never want you.

Remnants of your outfit were strewn over the floor, an oversized shirt and pyjama trousers instead covering your body. Your hair was still dripping from the rain, but you simply didn’t have the energy or the desire to deal with it. You were listening to a cassette that Eddie had given you, a mix of both of your music tastes, although the gift had come with a warning: 

“Sweetheart, if you tell anyone that I made a cassette with ABBA on it, I’ll kill you before you get a chance to run,” Eddie’s dimples blinded you as he grinned down at you, handing over the cassette. 

Another wave of pain washed over you at the memory, feeling stupid as you recalled all of the times you had read the signs wrong. As the track changed, you heaved in a breath and turned onto your other side. The brief moment of silence was interrupted by a small noise.

*tap*

*tap*

*taptaptaptaptaptap*

“What the-”, you took your headphones off, pulling the blanket down from over your head. Following the tap noise, you tiptoed over to your window, wiping your face to get rid of the tears that had started to dry, leaving a sticky residue. 

You jumped as another tap echoed, a small pebble bouncing off of your window. Looking down, you instantly recognise the mop of curls, despite his face being covered by the stupid halloween mask he had previously been donning. A groan vibrates through your body as you realise what you’re wearing, those thoughts still pounding in your head. 

Sliding your window up, you lean your head out, “Eddie?”

“Finally!” you can hear the toothy grin hidden beneath the mask. “I’m comin’ up.”

“No, Eddie-” you start to protest but Eddie had already clambered up the garage, nearing your window. Muttering under your breath, you hoped your parents were telling the truth when they said they’d be out late.

“Shit,” you panic, realising the state of your room - Eddie would definitely know something was up if he saw the depression pit you had concocted. Hurrying, you kicked your strewn clothes under the bed and reorganise the blankets on the bed. Running a quick hand across your face to get rid of any stray tears, you turned to the window, Eddie’s lanky figure climbing through.

With that stupid devil mask still on.

“Why are you here? Why aren’t you still at Steve’s?” you crossed your arms across your body, lightly kicking the carpet with your foot and avoiding Eddie’s gaze.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie’s voice was deep and gravelly as he took the mask off, tucking it in his back pocket. “What happened?”

Eddie reached for you and you took a step back, a pang of pain bursting through your body at the look on his face. You took a shaky breath, eyes flicking back and forward between Eddie and the floor.

“It’s nothing, I just-”

“Robin told me,” Eddie interrupted you, studying your face. “Everything. I mean, I think everything.”

Your heart was beating so loud you were sure he could hear it. Moving slowly, Eddie took a step towards you, his hands reaching to rest on your arms. 

“So tell me angel, what happened?” Eddie ducked his head, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Eddie,” you breathed, looking up into his deep brown eyes. “I’m sorry, you don’t need to-”

“Angel,” his voice was stern now, deep with need. 

Taking a deep breath, you shifted in your stance. “I wasn’t feeling great and I just wanted to see you, but you were dancing with another girl and I mean obviously you can do that, I can’t tell you what to do or not to do.” 

Words raced out of you faster than you could think, your body beginning to wrack with nerves as you realised what you were confessing to.

“And I just don’t know what to do Eddie because I wanted it to be me you were dancing with. I wanted it to be me you wanted to dance with.”

Tears brimmed in your eyes as you met his gaze, terrified of what you might find written in his eyes. 

Eddie took a moment, before stepping closer to you, one hand lifting from your arm to caress your cheek as he started laughing. Your heart sunk at the noise.

See? He’s laughing at you. What an idiot to think this would be some romantic moment. He can’t even handle the thought of it without laughing.

Eddie noticed how your face dropped and immediately stopped, tucking his finger under your chin to drag your eyes to his.

“Sweetheart, I think we’re both idiots,” he grinned down at you, dimples shining in the darkness of the room.

Your chin trembled as you looked up at him, brain spinning from the whiplash of the situation.

Eddie blinked once, twice, then leaned down to meet your lips with his.

And for the first time that night, your brain was quiet.

a/n: was that stupid? that was probably stupid.

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[munsonsmixtapes]

hiii im wondering if i could put in a request?? 💕

something like you’re dustin’s older sister and you’ve always despised eddie no matter how hot you thought he was and you two were always bickering at eachother and you guys are like enemies right, one night at a party there’s like this crazyyyy sexual tension between the two of you and you guys can’t help but look at each others lips while arguing with eachother like normal and you guys crash lips and it’s like angry sex and soooo hot!!!

Eddie Munson x Henderson!fem!reader

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) both Eddie and reader are very degrading towards each other, grinding, Eddie receives a hickey, spanking, anal

You had hated Eddie the moment you laid eyes on him. And he didn’t like you either, telling you as much with absolutely no shame. Too bad you could also dish it out. For once, someone was actually putting Eddie Munson in his place and he just couldn't stand that. Because he was the dungeon master for every campaign, everyone just let him say and do what he wanted because without him, there wouldn't have even been a game. Not you, though.

You were always able to get him right where it hurt and he just couldn't stand it, because for once, you were someone who was hating him for exactly who he was and not who everyone thought him to be. You knew he wasn't some evil devil worshiper who was running a cult and that got under his skin, that you were calling it just like you saw it.

Things between the two of you had gotten really bad when you had started a rival DnD club. The other players wouldn't let you back in because all you did was argue with him and ruin the campaign for them, so what else were you supposed to do, not start your own group?

And when Eddie caught wind that you were trying to convince Dustin to join your club? Well, you might as well have stabbed him in the back because that would have hurt a lot less. Dustin might as well have been his younger brother and now you were stealing him away? Sure, you and Dustin were actually related by blood, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

"I'm not doing it, y/n," Dustin told you as he got into your car as you picked him up for school. You didn't even have to speak for your brother to know exactly what you were going to ask. You had been asking for weeks and every time it was the same answer. You weren't really that upset and you understood that it was because he had a special bond with Eddie, but you were his sister, didn't that count for something?

"Making me choose between one of my best friend and my sister is really unfair, you know that?" He asked, throwing his backpack into the floorboard.

"No one's making you choose, Dustin," you shook your head as you put the car in drive. "You have a special bond with Eddie and he made his club first so I guess I can let it slide."

"So you'll stop with your stupid feud?" You didn't think it was that serious, but maybe you weren't seeing the big picture like Dustin. You were only seeing it from your point of view and it seemed like Eddie was the one who was always instigating your arguments.

"Yeah, Dustin," you looked over at him for a brief second before tuning back to the road. "We'll stop."

You hadn't lied when you said those words, but the second you spotted him across the room at a party that Robin had invited you to, your blood was boiling. You didn't think he even knew Steve like that, so you had no idea why he would have been there. Probably the free booze. Definitely the free booze.

You wanted to say something to him, but you weren't sure what. You had promised Dustin, but he wasn't there, so you could say whatever you wanted to Eddie and your little brother never would have known.

"Please don't," Robin whined as she saw what you were about to do. She grabbed onto your arm and tried to hold you back, but your mind was already made up.

You downed the rest of your drink and slammed the cup down onto the coffee table before making a beeline for the metalhead. God, you hated him. And how could you not with his stupid perfect hair and he stupid pretty brown eyes and his stupid pink lips that you wanted to kiss?

You wiped the thought out of your head and continued to walk towards him. It was as if everything had happened in slow motion. In the time you had gotten to the party and gotten your drink, one of your shoes had come untied and you had stepped on it, causing you to fall right onto the floor in front of everyone.

Eddie didn't know what he was doing, but he was quick to help you to your feet. You didn’t know why you were wearing heels when you knew that you’d be drinking, but the damage was already done.

“I don’t need your help,” you told him, trying to push him off of you, but he wouldn’t let you go as your legs were giving out once again.

“Yeah, I can tell,” he rolled his eyes and you hated how you could feel the heat of his hands through your shirt and how his warm brown eyes were filled with concern. “Falling for me, hm?”

“Not even close.”

“Right,” he nodded. “You just can’t hold your liquor.”

“Right on the money, Munson. Guess you’re not as dumb as you look.”

“Can we move this little conversation somewhere else?” Robin asked, appearing by your side. “It’s a little disruptive.”

“The conversation is over,” you grumbled, finally getting Eddie to let go of you. He was about to walk away, but Robin grabbed him by the arm, preventing him from getting too far.

“But it’s not,” she said, also grabbing hold of your wrist. “I think I speak for everyone when I say that you need to talk whatever this is out.” She rested a hand on each of your shoulders and led you up the stairs to the nearest room which just so happened to be a guest room.

“Robin, what are you-” you both said in unison, but she shoved you into the room and both she and Steve stood against the door so neither of you could open it.

You tried to opened it but it wouldn’t budge. You then let Eddie try, but he couldn’t get it either, the effort being no use. You were now stuck until they let you out and you knew that you would have to stay there until you worked things out.

You couldn’t believe you hadn’t seen it sooner. You fell right into your friends’ trap and now you were going to have to stay with the metalhead who you despised.

You sat down on the bed with a sigh then collapsed onto your back, accepting defeat. If you couldn’t get out without reconciling, there was no use in fighting. The bed was actually kind of comfortable so you could have stayed there for quite a while if Eddie didn’t start yapping.

He stood by the door, sipping on the beer that was in his hand and you found yourself letting your eyes take over his body. He was dressed in a cropped band t-shirt and pair of short shorts. He looked good and you almost wanted to tell him as much, but you didn’t want to feed his ego.

He turned to you, setting his beer on the dresser before making his way towards you. He stood in front of you, giving you a view of his great legs and you he to tear your eyes away from him.

“Like what you see?” He asked, his tone becoming very flirty. His pink lips twisted into a smirk and you almost wanted to kiss him. Almost.

“Not in the slightest,” you grimaced. But you did like what you saw. Maybe a little too much.

“Oh sorry, here. Let me give you a better view,” he turned around and purposefully dropped his keys, slowly bending down to pick them up, wiggling his ass as he did so. And damn did he have a great one. Why did you want to look and why did you kind of want to give it a slap? It was right there. All you had to do was reach over and-

“I caught you looking, l/n. You can touch it if you want. I won’t tell anyone,” he winked as he set his keys next to his beer. He then crossed the room and planted himself right next to you so that your thighs were touching. "I bet you've even thought about me naked," he teased his face a little too close to yours for your liking. You could see his brown eyes perfectly and could count every single eyelash if he had stayed there long enough.

And the thing was, you had thought about him naked. Even though you never would have admitted it. Sometimes when you couldn't sleep, you'd use your fingers to entertain you and maybe sometimes your mind would wander to Eddie. Maybe he was hot. But only maybe. There was no way in hell you were going to tell him as much. He didn't deserve to know how much you thought about him.

"It's okay if you have," he assured you. "Because I've thought about you naked. And believe me, in my dreams, you look hot as fuck."

"You're disgusting," you grimaced, but really, it was kind of turning you on. You felt your cheeks getting hot and you turned away from him. "I wouldn't sleep with you if you were the last man on earth."

"Woah, sweetheart," he put his hands up in defense. "No one said anything about us sleeping together. I was just talking about fantasies."

"And that's all it's going to be, because in case you forgot, Munson, I don't like you." You stood from the bed and stepped away from him, knowing that you only needed one more push and your lips would be on his.

"I don't like you either sweetheart, but I'm just trying to get along with you because of Dustin, because unfortunately, you're related to him."

"What do you have against me? What did I do?"

"Nothing, actually," he replied, leaning back on his hands, crossing one leg over the other. He was looking hotter by the second and you needed to turn away before you did something stupid. "I just like pushing your buttons. But you clearly seem to hate me. Wanna share with the class?"

"You're arrogant," you said, crossing your arms over your chest. "You think your hot shit because you play DnD, but guess what, Munson? So do a lot of other people. I think you're just mad because I'm a better DM than you." That seemed to unleash something in Eddie because before you knew it, he was standing from the bed and making a beeline for you.

"Hey, no one is a better DM than me," he jabbed his finger into your face. You kind of liked when he got angry. There was something about it that made you want him even more.

"Oh, I beg to differ," you chuckled, stepping closer so that you were toe to toe with him. "Even Dustin says I'm better than you."

"No he didn't." You could see his gaze moving down to your lips and you mimicked his actions, trying your best to be more subtle than he was.

"No, he didn't," you shook your head. "But you believed it for a second, didn't you? God, you're so easy to rile up, you're so-"

Before you could finish your sentence, Eddie grabbed you by the neck, pressing his lips to yours in a messy kiss. You gasped into his mouth, but quickly responded by moving your lips with his. Your hands quickly wound into his hair as his went to your waist, wrapping around it tightly as he tried to remove any space between the two of you.

Just as his tongue swiped along your bottom lip, you pulled away, not wanting things to get too heated. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and Eddie desperately wanted to nibble on it. Now that he had gotten a taste, he felt like he could kiss you for the rest of his life and never get bored.

"We can't do this," you said, stepping away from him, but he just followed you, backing you up until your back hit the dresser. You wanted him to kiss you again, even wanted to let him go all the way, but there was something about it that felt wrong. Mainly because you were Dustin's sister. Not that either of you would have told him.

"Why not?" He asked, licking his lips and he didn't miss the way you were looking at them, like they were a glass of water and you were absolutely parched.

"Be-because of Dustin."

"He doesn't have to know, but if you don't want to kiss me, then that's fine," he turned towards the door. "We can just go downstairs and tell Steve and Rob that we made up-"

But before Eddie could get to the door or finish his sentence, you turned him around to face you, throwing yourself into his arms before pressing your lips to his in a messy kiss. He was quick to respond, moving his lips with yours, his hands slowly moving up to your waist again.

He licked into your mouth and you moaned as his tongue swirled around yours, backing him up to the bed. He collapsed onto it, taking you with him and you were quick to straddle his waist. You kicked off your shoes then pulled away before pressing a kiss to his cheek, moving his hair out of the way before leaning down, your lips hovering over the shell of his ear.

"I'm gonna show you who the real master is," you whispered and Eddie could feel his dick hardening at your words.

You then pressed a kiss to his neck, peppering the spot with them before adding in your tongue. You could feel his heart racing against your lips and almost wanted to laugh. Good. You had him right where you wanted him. 

You began to suck on the skin, wanting everyone to see exactly what you had done to him. He laid there, pliant to your touch as you marked him up, wanting to let you do whatever you wanted to him. The woman he had been fantasizing for months was on top of him, giving him a hickey so who was he to deny you? This was just a wet dream come to life. 

His hands moved up the back of your shirt, his fingers digging into your back as you continued to work, a moan escaping his lips as he did so. Your teeth grazed the skin and his heart rate skyrocketed, another moan falling from his lips, his fingers digging even further into your back.

Once you felt like your work was done, you pulled away, smiling down at his neck that was now shining with your spit and the hickey that was forming. You had given multiple in your lifetime, but thinking about the fact that Eddie Munson was now going to be walking around sporting the mark that you gave him suddenly made you feel very wet.

He pulled you in for another kiss and you were the one to dip your tongue into his mouth, slowly grinding against him as you did so. You could hear a whimper in the back of his throat and let it die on his lips as you continued to kiss him, still grinding against his cock that was getting even more hard by the second. 

You pulled off your shirt and Eddie stared at your chest, his eyes filling with lust. You stared down at him and continued to grind on him, knowing that he needed just a little push to get the little whimper to pass through his lips. 

“l/n, please, can’t take all the teasing.” His whining was so hot and making you even more wt as you thought about him actually needing you that bad. 

“Gonna need a bit more, Munson.” You were grinding even harder now and Eddie swore that he was going to lose his goddamn mind. “C’mon, beg me.” 

“Please,” he whined again, more passion in his words. “I mean, do you need to see my cock to see how desperate I am?” You knew he was exaggerating, but you actually did want to see his cock, wondering if it looked anything like you thought it did. 

“I do, actually,” you nodded and his hands moved to his shorts and seeing how his dick was tenting in his pants, you could already see what a mess you had made of him. You got off of him and let him get the shorts off, followed by his underwear and you couldn’t help but stare at him, lying there with his cock in full display, the thing much bigger than you had anticipated. 

You followed his lead and stripped your underwear before your skirt and you could see Eddie’s mouth fall open as he stared at you, lust clouding his eyes even more. You then pushed him onto the bed before retrieving a condom from his pocket, opening the packet then rolling the thing onto his cock.

“Don’t think this is because I like you or anything,” you told him as you straddled his waist again, slowly placing yourself onto his cock. “This is just because you’re here and you’re hot.” Eddie had no problem with that. Why you were fucking him was none of his business. He was perfectly happy with you using him for his body. 

“I don’t care,” he shook his head. “Use me.”

“Oh, I intend to.” You leaned down and pressed a hot kiss to his lips before you began to ride him, bucking your hips against his in a slow motion to get used to it before picking up the pace. Your hands found his shoulders and they dug into his skin as his moved to your waist, the same treatment given to your hips.  

You watched him as you continued to ride him, seeing the way he was already coming undone doing something to you. Your movements got harder and faster and clearly that was what Eddie was wanting considering that he was more responsive to you, moans and whimpers falling from his lips. 

“Knew you’d look hot underneath me,” you said, your breathing getting labored, but Eddie only thought that made you even more attractive. “I mean, look at you, I’ve barely even done anything and you’re already fucked out.” Eddie almost wanted to see what he looked like to know if you were telling the truth or messing with him because he thought that he had been pretty nonchalant up until then, Okay, maybe except for the begging. 

“Gonna need for you to beg for me again,” you said and you were getting too cocky for Eddie’s liking. You were so confident that you were driving him crazy, and you were, but he didn’t want you to know just how desperate he was for a fuck. 

In one swift move, he sat up and pushed you onto your back so that he was on top. It was about time he taught you a lesson, making you moan so loudly that the rest of his house could see just how well he fucked you. 

“I’m the master now,” he said, pinning your arms to the bed. Your mouth was wide open and for once, you didn’t have anything to say. You were shocked by the sudden movement that you needed to catch your breath, but Eddie pounding into you made your brain short circuit. 

He was going so fast and hard and all you could do was moan, loving the way he wasn’t being gentle. He was whispering the most filthy things into your ear and you felt so overstimulated, but didn’t want it to stop. This was easily the best you ever had even though you never would have admitted it. Eddie’s ego didn’t need to be fed anymore. 

“Now you’re the one who’s going to have to beg,” he said, stopping his movements completely. He just stared down at you with his big brown eyes, a hint of mischief behind them just like always. He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours, his moving slowly against, giving you just a taste, but not the full thing. He didn’t want to spoil you, after all. 

“C’mon,” he urged against your lips. You needed him, but there was no way you were going to beg. You didn’t beg. If it came down to it, you’d just finish the job yourself and make Eddie watch, punishing him for what he had done.

“Not a chance,” you replied. “I can stay here all night.” Eddie didn’t like that response. In retaliation, he sunk deeper into you, fitting all of himself into your cunt and he had to hold back a laugh as he watched you gasp. You just needed a little push and you’d be whining his name in no time.

You couldn’t hold on any longer, very close to giving in, the feeling of his entire cock inside of you getting to you. You thought you could take it, but you really couldn’t. It was more painful than you would have thought and it was driving you crazy that he was trying to make you seem like you wanted him more than you did. You both were just fucking each other because you were there. And maybe you were attracted to him a little bit, but that was beside the point.

“Eddie, please,” you begged, your voice much more whiny than he would have expected. “Eddie, please fuck me.” This was exactly what he was wanting and it really wasn’t that hard to get you to submit. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it sweetheart? All you had to do was beg daddy.” 

“You’re disgusting.” 

“Oh, don’t start that or else I’m going to have to punish you.” He pounded into you once more which elicited another delicious moan from your lips. Your grip on him was becoming more rough and he wanted you to hurt him, wanting to be able to see your marks when he looked in the mirror. 

“You say that like this wasn’t already a punishment.” You were giving it back to Eddie and every response almost made him short circuit since the women he usually slept with submitted so easily, obeying his every command, just wanting to impress him. But you, you were different and he liked that. He liked how bratty you were behaving and was going to have fun punishing you. 

“Turn over,” he commanded, his eyes growing dark. 

“Eddie, what-” you were trying to ask him what he was meaning, but he just cut off. 

“I’m not speaking fucking gibberish, y/n, I said. Turn. Over.” He pulled out and you flipped over onto your stomach, a gasp leaving your mouth as his hand made contact with your ass with a loud smack. He did one more, harder this time and you were becoming concerned about how much you were enjoying it. 

You moaned as the smacks continued and before you could even process what was happening, the spanking had stopped. You tried to turn around to see what he was doing, but he pushed your face into the mattress and pounded his cock into your ass, his movements fast and hard. You turned your head to the side so you could breathe and your fingers dug into the comforter as he continued, another moan slipping from your lips. 

You knew that Eddie was a freak in the bedroom, but not this much of one. And did it make you a freak that you were enjoying what he was doing? Definitely. And now you weren’t sure how you were going to go on knowing that this was what you could have had all along if you had stopped your stupid feud. 

“See what happens when you talk back?” He asked, giving one more push and now you were coming undone, an orgasm ripping through you as he removed his hand from your face. You screamed his name and he chuckled to himself as he had you exactly where he wanted you. He then pulled out and disposed of the condom before helping you to your feet. 

You both got dressed, the tension having died down and now you couldn’t look each other in the eye after what you had just done. You cleaned yourself up then put on your clothes, turning your back to Eddie as you did so, suddenly feeling exposed. This was definitely a one time thing and now you were going to have to masturbate for the rest of your life since none of your other hookups would ever compare, Eddie always on your mind as you got yourself off.

Once you were dressed, you turned around to see him grabbing his keys and shoving them into his pocket before reaching for his beer. He stepped closer and tilted the bottle towards you as if he was offering you some. You took a sip, grimacing at how warm it had gotten then handed it back to him. 

Eddie then grabbed hold of your waist and pulled you to him before pressing a kiss to your lips, this one soft and gentle. Just as you were getting into it, he pulled away, pecking you then turning to the door. He rested his hand on the handle then turned to you for a brief moment.

“Don’t be a stranger,” he winked then fled the room, leaving the door wide open. You quickly followed him, stopping in the doorway just in time to see him bound down the stairs to join the party where everyone was hopefully oblivious to what you had just done. 

You waited a few seconds and followed, heading down the stairs just in time to see Robin handing Steve a twenty dollar bill who pocketed it. They both caught your gaze and waved you over, both wrapping an arm around you.

“So how was he?” Steve asked and you tried your best to hide your smile. 

“Oh, we didn’t do anything,” you shook your head, hoping that they would buy your terrible lie. 

“Oh please,” Robin knocked her hip against yours. “We could hear the two of you fucking like bunnies up there. Now come on, let’s get you some water, looks like you need it.” She led you to the kitchen to get you the water and you turned your head in just the right direction to catch Eddie staring at you. He raised his bottle to you and you nodded in response. 

“Same time tomorrow?” he mouthed and you nodded enthusiastically, fully prepared to give him your number after you got your water. Maybe you didn’t hate each other as much as you thought. Maybe all of your attraction to each other was hidden by your supposed hatred. Well, now you supposed you were enemies with benefits and you had absolutely no problem with that.

[bradleysass]

foot - @rosekillermicrofic - wc: 720

The dungeons were already insufferable, but Evan Rosier was particularly sensitive to the smell of underbrewed Amortentia and underwashed Slytherin robes. He sat stiffly at his table in Potions, sleeves rolled up, a perfect stack of chopped valerian root on one side and a pristine, annotated copy of Advanced Potion-Making on the other.

Next to him was the problem.

Barty Crouch Jr. slouched with the grace of a defiant cat. His tie was askew, ink on the edge of his collar, and he hadn’t even pretended to open his textbook. Instead, he was balancing a spoon on his nose.

Evan’s quill scratched against parchment.

“Are you going to help, or just embarrass yourself?”

The spoon clattered to the desk. “Bit of both, hopefully,” Barty replied cheerfully, flicking the spoon toward Evan, who caught it midair without looking.

“I’m serious, Crouch.”

“So am I. I think if I can get the spoon to bounce off Mulciber’s elbow, it’ll land directly in Avery’s cauldron. Chain reaction. Boom. Class ends early. You and I go take a walk by the lake. Romantic, isn’t it?”

Evan closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose.

When he opened them, Barty was now poking at the powdered asphodel with a wand and muttering something that was definitely not in the curriculum.

“Barty.”

“Hm?”

“If you don’t shut up, Crouch,” Evan said, low and venomous, “you are going to find my foot in your foot.”

Barty blinked. “In my foot?”

“Yes. I will kick you so hard that our feet become one. You’ll be known as the boy with two toes and no sense of self-preservation.”

A beat. Then Barty smiled, wide and devastating. “Kinky.”

Evan dropped the pestle and turned to face him fully, voice cool as frostbite. “You are a plague, and I am not dying in the dungeons because of your inability to focus for more than—what time is it—four minutes and seventeen seconds.”

Barty dramatically clutched his chest. “You’ve been timing how long I’ve annoyed you? Evan, I didn’t know you cared.”

“I care about not failing,” Evan snapped. “Which is what we’ll both do if you add anything else to this cauldron without reading the instructions.”

Barty tilted his head, considering the potion. “Well, I may have already added the ginger root.”

Evan lunged. “You what?”

The cauldron emitted a low gurgle, then belched out a cloud of magenta smoke.

From across the room, Slughorn sniffed the air with concern. “Hmm? What’s that smell? Mr. Rosier? Mr. Crouch?”

Evan stood straight, flicked the smoke away with an elegant wave of his wand, and said with deadly calm, “We’re fine, Professor.”

Slughorn squinted suspiciously, but returned to his demonstration.

Evan turned to Barty and muttered, “You’re not walking out of here without a limp.”

“Promises, promises,” Barty said, grinning.

They returned to the potion. Evan salvaged what he could, grinding moonstone with surgical precision while muttering incantations under his breath. Barty leaned in, watching him with a smirk.

“You’ve got really pretty hands.”

Evan didn’t look up. “You’ve got a death wish.”

“You think I’m pretty too, don’t you?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

Evan’s eyes flicked to him, sharp and glowing. “If you were any prettier, I’d be too distracted to save our potion from destruction, which, funnily enough, is what you’re trying to do.”

Barty beamed. “So you admit I’m distracting.”

“You’re disruptive.”

“Same thing.”

The potion stabilized. Barely. Evan wiped his hands on a cloth with excessive restraint.

As the class wrapped up and students began bottling their work, Barty leaned close enough for his breath to brush Evan’s neck.

“Walk with me after class.”

Evan scoffed. “Why? So you can recount all the ways you nearly got us killed in a forty-five-minute double period?”

“No,” Barty said simply, “so you’ll yell at me in private instead of in front of Slughorn. It’s less fun when he glares.”

“I wasn’t yelling.”

“You were threatening to fuse our bones. Hot, but also slightly concerning.”

Evan shoved the cork into their vial and stood. “You are going to drive me mad.”

“I hope so,” Barty replied, snatching the vial out of his hands and sauntering off to Slughorn’s desk with a wink.

Evan watched him go, arms crossed and expression unreadable. Then he grabbed his books and followed.

Because of course he did.

[ghouldump]

Girlll did you delete your last fic? Whyyyy I was about to read it😭😭

Your Best Nightmare | Lestat de Lioncourt x Reader

ෆ being away from your companion, as both of you take on stardom, can be frustrating, but it is very rewarding to see your maker for the first time in months.

(anon asked for bi!reader w/ crossdressing lestat and if possible some nsfw content)

girl, somebody messaged me and said it was weird and i was confused like you watched a show with vampires killing people like bffr, but ig i’ll repost bc somebody else asked too 😂

The crowd seemed more lively than ever, screaming the frightening lyrics, but paid them no mind. Humans, despite having dominion over nearly every species, were quite stupid. They all had things they liked, they idolized, and in many of their eyes, it didn't take much to seem trustworthy to them. A quick photo of you holding the cheek of a beautiful mortal, and overnight, you were a national treasure — proof that vampires were not a danger.

Vampires, although people of the night, were only bound by their circumstances, and if there were others, they deserved the privilege to reveal themselves. It was cute, really, the same songs that were once deemed monstrous, alarming, and cultish, were now innovative, you were now an icon, like your lover, the vampire Lestat, you were simply adding your contribution to rock culture. However, they didn't even realize, all of them were wrong. They couldn't be more wrong about everything.

I'm your best nightmare,” you sang, as the audience joined you.

And then it happened, you were in my arms

Your lips on my throat- your hands on my, on my...

Two bodies together, the intimate sin

The pain and the pleasure, could do mortals in

How could you know, what I'm thinking of

To me lust can be, as beautiful as love

Here tonight, your pure heart and soul

Untainted passion should have no control

She asked me if I...

I told her the truth

I said "I'm sorry, it takes me, longer than you"

She smiled and blushed, and continued to grind

And promised to make me, go out of my mind

Returning her promise, she, came to a halt

Licking my lips, I, tasted her salt

Then she sat up and gasped and clutched at her breast

I thought she was coming- I'd never have guessed that

As she grew pale, as white as a flower

She collapsed to the floor and was dead in an hour

Hearing the humans singing along to the deranged song, you nearly laughed. Too foolish to grasp the very lyrics, escaping their mouths. A song about your very first hunt, alone. Delilah, the name itself brought a nostalgic tingle to your tongue.

You remember the night utterly, from the time you stumbled out of your coffin, to you crawling back in. You sat alone at the bar, The Dungeon, a frequent spot for tourists when she caught your eye. Dancing against her friend, they both laughed loudly, singing along to the music. Her skin was flawless, her makeup dark, with an incredibly flattering dress, hugging her curves beautifuly.

Just from staring alone, you almost held your throat from how thirsty you were. Standing up, you approached her, her friend nudging her, their eyes shifting to you.

"Hey," she smiled, briefly biting her lip.

"Hey," you repeated, peering into her thoughts, not a single piece was left unattainable from your view.

"Are you here alone?" she asked you, her friend whispering that she was going back to their group of friends, to give her privacy.

"I'm afraid I am," you smiled, as she moved closer, tilting her head.

"Then I'll have to keep you company"

"I'm very difficult to entertain"

"That's because you haven't met me," she giggled.

"Ah, I see, and what is the name of the woman I've waited for?" you asked her.

"Delilah"

"Very beautiful-

"Please, I was named after my grandmother," she said, smiling as you chuckled.

"I'm Y/n," you said, holding out your hand, shaking hers.

"Would you like to get out of here? Maybe have some fun at my place?" you asked, leaning closer, to glamour her.

"Yes, I'd love to," she smiled.

"Good girl, why don't you tell your friends that you're headed back to your hotel for tonight, because you're tired, and I'll meet you outside," you winked, watching as she went to the group of friends.

It wasn't much longer before you were both nude, her moans only continued to arouse your longing appetite. Her gentle kisses, and promises to rock your world, as her orgasm drew near — it only made you want to rip her to pieces more. Holding her soft hips, you felt your fangs emerging before you began to suck from her breast. She panicked for only a moment, choosing to follow along with your erotic behavior.

"I'm coming," she cried, grinding against your thigh. Her breathing hitched, feeling your cool fingers near her glistening pearl.

"You taste just as good as you look," you whispered, staring down, as you hovered over her.

"Your turn," she giggled, her eyes still shut. If only she had opened her lovely raven eyes, to see the monster in front of her. Blood dripping from your mouth, as you stared at her, seeing her for nothing more than she could ever be to you, food.

"Unfortunately, you won't get the honor, tonight, as your life is coming to an end," you said, and just as she was able to open her eyes, you lunged forward.

Draining her, you could sense her heartbeat, hear her thoughts, and feel the sensation of her nails clawing into your back. It was all euphoric, you were a monster, you could admit, and you loved every bit of the thrill, of experiencing such an occasion, with stunning humans.

As the final song came to an end, you waved, bowing at the arena of people, the music fading, as the stage lowered, giving the illusion that you were disappearing. Going backstage, you thanked your team for working so hard for the tour, before you changed clothing — and headed to your hotel. You intended to catch your flight tonight, but with the concert ending so late, you couldn't take the risk, as the sun was bound to rise in the next hour or two.

Although you felt impatient, you would have to wait another night, before you could catch the private jet to New Orleans, to him. Lestat de Lioncourt, your muse, maker, lover, and companion. He turned you nearly 40 years ago and you have been inseparable ever since.

With the both of you busy with your careers, the two of you promised that it would be fine to have flings on the side, as long as there were no feelings attached — not that you would be able to feel anything for another anyway. You had yet to meet another as passionate, as he.

As the driver stopped the car, you quickly made your way into the building, as the sunrise began to peak from behind the buildings.

"Good morning, miss Y/n," the receptionist smiled, batting her eyelashes as you looked her way.

"Morning," you winked, before entering the elevator.

Going to your floor, you stopped for a moment, seeing Amanda, your assistant, standing at the door, it only meant one thing, groupies. Your team sometimes selected women and men, bringing them to your room. Your publicists emphasized how important it was for you to not be seen hunting, and you were simply playing your role.

"Thank you, Amanda, why don't you go get some rest?" you spoke, grinning as she jumped, glancing over at you.

"Yes, of course, sleep well," she nodded, practically running to the elevator.

Opening the door, you squinted, trying to allow your eyes to adjust to the dim room. The blackout curtains blocking any potential sunshine. Hearing the sound of the faucet running in the bathroom, you entered and shut the door. Taking note that you couldn't hear any thoughts, you looked around for a handbag or wallet, to identify the person, just as the bathroom door opened.

Gasping, you couldn't contain the large smile, as Lestat exited the bathroom, he wore a black bralette, cheeky knickers, and a silk robe on top. His blond waves looked even more luscious than usual, with a light pink gloss on his lips and blush.

"You came to California, to see me," you said, trying to swallow the emotions bubbling inside. You felt so elated, seeing him for the first time in months.

"I couldn't go another day away from you, chéri," he confessed, as you moved closer, embracing him. Mumbling a low, "baby", while he held you near, placing a kiss on your lips.

"You look so pretty," you giggled, as he pecked your lips again.

"I had to look my best to get your attention, I've seen the woman that come to your shows," he smirked.

"They don't stand a chance, next to you," you said, as he stared longingly into your eyes.

"I missed you," he finally said.

"I missed you too," you said, as those words were all he needed to hear before his lips were connected to yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

Biting down on your lip, he groaned, lifting you in the air, walking over to the bed, before breaking the kiss — as you peeled each article of clothing away, your eyes set on his piercing blue ones.

"This is so cute," your eyes twinkle, as he removed the robe, the obvious bulge in his panties catching your attention. Sitting on the bed, in front of him, he went to his knees. Kissing your lips, he moved down your neck, holding your waist, as you arched your back. "Love," you moaned, feeling his breath against your skin, causing goosebumps.

Laying back, you bit your lip, as his mouth traveled south. Kissing your glistening pearl, before hungrily consuming her. Your fingers found their way to his blonde tresses. Your eyes could hardly stay open, as his tongue repeatedly lapped over your cunt.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you moaned loudly, "I'm so close," you said, the orgasm escaping, as his long fingers moved up to your breast - caressing them.

"I wasn't sure how much longer I could take, being away from you," he spoke, as you agreed, pulling him close to kiss his lips, smearing the lip gloss on his pale skin.

"Take this off, please," You tugged on the bralette, you needed every part of him, bare.

As he stood, you grinned, exploring his toned body. He kept his usual sultry eye contact, as he slowly removed the lingerie, purposely teasing you.

"Lestat," you whined, giggling.

"Patience is a virtue, ma chéri," he smirked, as he approached you, bound to another night of sharing his endless love with you.

"Fuck Patience, I need you now," you groaned, making him laugh.

"Anything for you"

in the original post, i explained that all of the upcoming posts won't be released in a particular order, since i’m working on everything in my drafts.

[hivemuthur]

Wait Ten Seconds

Okay, a tiny little break from Viktor, as I present you a request for my awesome friend, @aristenfromwarsaw! Thank you for having faith in me to write this, heh. Also, this is my fav screenshot of Astarion and Aristen, her Durge, just look at them :')

spawn!Astarionxfemale!redeemed!DU (fandom: BG3), explicit!

word count: 2,5K

summary: set in act III, after defeating Cazador and Orin. Not specified, but I can imagine them having a date before the doomed day of confronting the absolute and chilling somewhere in Rivington, away from people and the rest of the team :')

author's note: so nervous about publishing this, that I forgot to mention the undeniable blessing by my smut fairy, @rennethen, thank you!

—

She was fidgeting, to the point of Astarion wincing as he brought the wine and plopped down next to her on the blanket. The closer they were to their final goal, the more layers were peeled back, revealing the truth underneath. And Aristen’s truth lay very close to Astarion’s. The parallels were almost uncanny—two powerful creatures, made and shaped by another, more powerful, to be stripped of will and judgment and commit crimes nearly beyond redemption. Both beautiful, nearly deadly so. Both now free, though at a horrific price that included a lot of death, and their friends close to bleeding out.

And Astarion knew. He knew what it was like to swat away that extended hand, the one that carried a promise of eternal power and greatness without limitations. He knew how hard it had been for him when he held his dagger over Cazador’s head, his eyes darting to all his friends, who froze in fear of what he was going to do next. Their questioning faces, minds grinding gears, silently pleading with him not to do it. So he didn’t. And a mixture of relief and grief washed over him as they walked back through the corridors of the musky dungeon, their shirts soaked in blood, grime, and the dusty remnants of undead bodies. The stench was unbearable, nearly as bad as in the temple of Bhaal.

But after that came true reprieve. And suddenly, the price of his freedom felt small. Who needed the sun when he could have her? So he confessed his love and giddiness, and Aristen accepted it—all of it. Living under the stars and figuring out what would come next. If, of course, they survived the Netherbrain.

She kept fisting the blanket and biting the inside of her cheek. So he waited ten seconds before being an absolute freak and licking her face to snap her out of it.

“Wha— Why are you being gross?” She blinked, wiping the spit off her face with the top of her hand. But there was a smile, and Astarion sighed, relieved that such a thing could still take place.

“Copper piece for your thoughts?” he asked, passing her a carafe of Amnian Dessert. She took it wordlessly, their fingers brushing, and Astarion winced at the warmth of her skin. She gulped down three sips and forced herself not to burp.

“I… I feel you already know what I’m thinking about,” she said, offering him a sad smile.

“Humour me. Consider me a half-wit that needs everything spelled out for him.” His hands travelled up her knees to her hips, pulling her to slot between his spread legs. Once a safe space was created between them, Astarion tilted the bottle to her lips, pouring some of the wine down her throat.

She chuckled and shot him a look. “You don’t have to get me drunk if you want something, you know that, right?”

A drop of red streaked from the corner of her mouth, sliding down the side of her throat, and Astarion kissed it away. He purred at the rhythm of her heart, beating for the both of them, before nuzzling his nose into the crook of her shoulder.

“Hmm, I know that. But for this particular something, I feel you might need some liquid courage,” he murmured, entwining his fingers at the small of her back. “What is bothering you, my love?”

“Sometimes… I pray for the Netherbrain to win, so I don’t have to… remember,” she whispered into the silver of his hair, the words bitter on her tongue.

Astarion shifted. His eyes shot up to meet hers, and his hands cupped her neck. Again, with the drumming of that heart. He pressed his thumbs into her larynx, gently, a warning. He gritted his teeth, words balancing on the scale in his head, and asked, “What is more? Love or self-loathing?”

“What?” she croaked, her brows furrowing.

“Which do you feel stronger? The love or the hate?” Astarion’s voice was firm, as though he needed to insist. “And why, of all people, would you be the one beyond redemption?” He waited another ten seconds. No response came, only blinking.

“You get to start over. To be the person you want to be—not what someone else made you to be,” he whispered, his tone dipping dangerously low. Not sultry. It was the same tone he used when he was being honest. The same tone he used when he tried to wince away from an attempt to bite her, all those months back. “As do I. And I want to start over with you. Do you?”

“Oh gods, you know I do,” Aristen breathed finally, her voice inevitably cracking, tears pushing their way through the corners of her eyes. “What if I am, though? Beyond redemption?”

“Am I?” As usual, a precise shot. A rogue instinct took over, and Astarion planted his trap skilfully. He intended to wait another ten seconds, but she was faster.

“No, of course not.” Her warm hands were on his cheeks so fast, thumbs rubbing into the hollows of them, and if Astarion could flush, he would have. He shifted closer, caging her in.

“Then why would you be?” Seeing a thought forming, words already dripping off her tongue, he placed his fingers on her lips. “I will talk, and you will listen. You're no monster. You’ve saved me more times than I can count—” a sound from between his fingers cut him off.

Astarion shifted again, letting a single "but" slip away from her. He wrapped one hand around her waist, while the free palm moved to cover her mouth completely. “You will listen to me now.”

He waited ten seconds, and Aristen nodded, her eyes glued to his. His hand slid to cup her neck instead, their foreheads touching. Cold breath fanned her face as he spoke.

“I come from a life I cannot remember, which in itself proves how unremarkable it was. That life ended, and another began, and that one I remember very well. I remember every torture, every rat I was given, every slap, and every lover I led to their death. And it’s all very harrowing—the way it reminds me I do have a soul,” he confessed on a fabricated breath.

“And then you come. And you undo it all, piece by painful piece. Two centuries of pure shit. In a span of time that is merely a glimpse compared to two hundred years, you manage to defy a god, defeat my jailor, and yet you sit here crying—I wish you would stop; it’s utterly distracting,” he murmured, wiping the tears from her cheek. She allowed a hiccupped chuckle to escape her throat.

“Nothing ever gets undone, not entirely. But we get to rebuild ourselves from the rubble. So I ask again—what is more?” Astarion waited one second. Less than one second.

“Love. Love is more,” she said, nodding, tears streaming down her cheeks as she gave him a kiss full of salt. “Love me,” she pleaded, her hands fisting the frills of his collar, fingers ghosting over the two puncture marks on his neck, and Astarion’s unfabricated breath hitched.

“I do. With all of my eternal undead heart, I do,” he murmured against her lips, his fangs dangerously close to the tender flesh of red, but he was careful. Mouths touched, his tongue doing most of the work—licking, fighting hers for dominance. His hands had already travelled under her skirts, working to rid her of an offensive pair of breeches. He swung her legs to one side to slide them off, fumbling at her ankles as she tried to help but only caused more trouble than if she hadn’t.

While Astarion fumbled with those, she began unlacing his trousers, her breath stuttering at the coolness of his skin. Every inch of Astarion was so beautiful and she had it all memorized so well, she didn’t have to look, but she did, always, nevertheless. And Astarion remembered her as well, but he wasn’t looking. Too busy leaving open-mouthed kisses all the way up her legs, one of his fangs catching on the lace of her skirts in a rush.

Aristen couldn’t help a chuckle, having done her part of undressing him as she pulled him closer by the laces of his pants, now hanging loosely from his fly.

“First she cries, then she laughs me out, the audacity,” he rasped, placing his hands on either side of her waist and meeting her in a kiss. Deep and unhurried, Astarion let his tongue slip between her lips once again, as his hands travelled up her ribcage to cup her breasts through the material

Aristen let out a gasp and quickly unbuttoned her shirt, welcoming his cool touch against the heat of a summer night. Astarion growled at the motion and splayed himself flat on top of her, hooking one of her legs with his knee. The kissing deepened, and soon his mouth travelled with no particular destination, sucking on the pulse point below her ear, ghosting over her collarbone and flicking at each of her nipples.

He pulled himself up to cage her in, gently tracing her jaw and cupping her cheek. Another kiss lasting ten seconds, all tongue and as little teeth as Astarion could do, emotion seeping from it. When his lips left hers, it was only so his mouth could travel to her jaw, throat and sternum. His hands cupped her breasts, and oh, the weight of them, the softness, felt so sweet against his cool skin.

Astarion was very good with both—the words and the body. It was all very much rehearsed and carefully constructed into a self, that would shield his other self from showing. But with Aristen, his other self was slowly crawling out, so he let it. He let himself be desperate and wanting, to meet her unsure, wounded self. As equals.

His thumbs brushed her nipples, causing her spine to arch into the touch. “So needy,” Astarion teased, spitting on one of her breasts to ease the friction and pressing his mouth to the other. The contrast between the callouses of his thumb and softness of his lips made parts of her clench on nothing. She tugged on his hair, scraping his scalp and Astarion hummed into her skin.

The hum evolved into a chuckle, once Aristen released a muffled whimper and it only got worse for her. His lips travelled to the other side, leaving her skin glistening with his spit and exposed. She could feel featherlight kisses being placed all the way from her nipple, down, down to her ribcage, stomach, hip bone, until his mouth reached the crease of her thigh. And there, Astarion waited ten seconds.

Mouth hovering over her core, breath fanning, nose smelling. Then, a kiss, and she gasped. And then, finally, his lips closed around her, tongue teasing, licking into her slit. A gentle suck, to make her breath stutter, only to release her with a wet pop and Aristen whined.

With a ghost of a smile, Astarion’s mouth went back to roam up and down her rib cage, hands trailed down her sides to rest in the creases of her thighs. He then pulled away to sit on the balls of his heels and seeing the look on her face, he just said, “Patience, my love.”

He picked up her leg by the foot and placed a soft kiss at the flat of her ankle. Then, an agonizing lick to her pulse point. And agonizing for both of them, Astarion could add. Then, hot fast kisses all the way down her calf, her thigh, to finally splay himself flat between her legs.

Their eyes locked as he gave her cunt a reverent kiss. Both obscene and loving, as he stared into her soul and Aristen chuckled, trying to chase the flush away from her cheeks.

He licked against her clit, and feeling her body jerk he splayed a flat palm on her stomach to pin her down, the other arm wrapped around her thigh. Working her slowly until her sweet scent filled his nostrils, Astarion slid his fingers down her belly and teased her entrance. Once inside, he curled them, and Aristen moaned, her neck tensing, throat exposed.

Feeling her closing in on her climax, he made a switch. Mouth travelled down to fuck her with his tongue, thumb spreading her slick around the clit. And if this was his last meal, he would die fed. He would also die deaf, as her thighs closed in around his ears, her body tensing and flexing, fingers curling in his hair desperately. Her heels dug into his shoulder blades, and she felt her soul leaving her body, travelling straight into Astarion’s mouth, her voice echoing in the night around them.

Astarion waited ten seconds, just to watch her. To watch her chest rising and falling, to watch her eyes gloss over him, over his cock hanging free, painfully hard. He gave himself a few slow strokes, spreading precum from the tip to the root. Then, he shifted to all fours, reaching out for her hand to guide it between his legs. A warm hand replaced the cold one as she rubbed his tip with her thumb before flicking her wrist down to a long stroke against his length.

“No one touches me like you touch me,” he murmured against her mouth. “Take me and keep me forever,” Astarion said, meaning Take me and love me forever.

“Only if you take me and keep me forever,” she replied, her voice already fucked-out, bedroom eyes staring back into his. With that answer, he removed her hand, kissed her knuckles in gratitude and placed his hips between her legs. He rubbed his cock against her wetness to coat himself in her slick before teasing the entrance. The first few thrusts were shallow and Astarion glued his eyes to her face, watching her mouth fall open wider and wider, before sinking fully inside.

Once buried up to the hilt, he begun to thrust slowly and deeply into her. His movements were unhurried, his pubic bone pressing on her clit, rebuilding the pressure within her. His arms wrapped around her, chests pressed together, mouths touching, exchanging breaths. Her legs encircled his waist to seal the bond. Rocking their bodies toward completion, Astarion whispered, “I love all of you.”

She mouthed his name back to him, voice lost in her throat, as her walls clenched around him, and they reached the peak together. Bodies shook, fingers dug into flesh. He spilled himself inside her, head falling into the crook of her neck. And Astarion waited ten seconds, and then another ten seconds, and another, before sleep took both of them over, entangled, connected by their cores, and their hearts.

[propertyofkylar]

kinktober day 12: facesitting (f!kylar x gn!pc)

word count: 995 note: loose continuation of this royalty au fic, also find more abt the royalty au here tags/warnings: facesitting, au, cunnilingus, kylar tries to be dom but really dom reader, mostly just me simping over kylar tbh

“And you have to do what I say, because I’m the princess!” Kylar huffed. 

You flashed her a teasing smile. It was far too easy to rile her up, and admittedly too fun. “That usually works for you, yeah?”

Kylar glared at you, folding her arms across her chest, but the pink tinge to her cheeks gave away how flustered she was truly feeling. 

It had been a few months since Kylar had kidnapped you and essentially forced you into being her personal guard-slash-concubine. The “guard” thing was mostly just how she introduced you to others. For the most part, you served as the princess’s sex toy. 

It wasn’t a bad position to be in by any means. You were fed and housed, even though the castle was ramshackle and the food not great. But you could be out fending for yourself. 

Plus, you got to tease the adorable Kylar constantly, which had become one of your favorite pastimes. 

It was almost like a game the two of you played. The spoiled princess made demands of you. You put up a fight, but eventually gave in. Honestly, it was something you really enjoyed, and it was pretty obvious Kylar felt the same way. 

“If you don’t like it, then you’re free to go back into the dungeon,” Kylar said, but you knew she didn’t mean it. 

You feigned being hurt, pressing your hand to your chest and sighing dramatically. “Princess, you wound me! You wouldn’t be so cold-hearted, would you?”

She wiggled slightly, blush creeping up her neck as she sat on her bed. “I…I would.”

You sat next to her, leaning in so your breath ghosted against her throat. Kylar shivered and you were so close, you could see the hair on the back of her neck stand up. “I see. Better do as the princess says, then,” you whispered. 

You started pressing kisses to her neck as your fingers deftly worked to undo her corset and gown. You prided yourself in how skilled you were at undressing Kylar. Soon enough, she wore nothing but a chemise, hare nipples tenting the fabric slightly. 

Smirking, you ran a hand up her inner thigh and brushed against her core. Kylar yelped. “Princess, soaking already,” you murmured. 

Flustered, Kylar squirmed, but you pushed her down onto the bed and then laid next to her. “Well? Didn’t my princess demand something of me?”

Kylar hesitated for a moment, making you giggle, but she hiked up the skirt of her chemise and straddled your face. You breathed in her sweet, musky scent as your hands gripped her fleshy ass. 

It was adorable how Kylar tried to act like a dominant leader, yet fell to pieces around you every time. You could feel her thighs trembling, afraid to put her full body weight on you. A shaky exhale was the sign that yes, she had felt your nose bump her clit. 

“C’mere,” you murmured, punctuating with a lick to her folds. Kylar gasped. “Sit down, princess. I can handle it.”

Digging your nails into her flesh, you set yourself to work, collecting Kylar’s sweet juices on your tongue. Soft sighs fell from her mouth with each twist of your tongue. Your sweet, spoiled princess had demanded to sit on your face enough times that you were confident in your abilities to make her cum. 

As you flicked your tongue up to Kylar’s clit, you also looked up at the beautiful girl hovering above you. Her fists were clenching the skirt of her chemise, her eyes squeezed shut with her lips parted slightly. The stunning sight made you only want to tease you further. So you sucked on her bundle of nerves, which made her hips buck forward and grind on your face. 

“Just like that, good girl,” you mumbled. You swiped your tongue through her folds again, drinking her up. Kylar whined out your name as you did so. 

Kylar seemed to be growing more confident, steadily grinding her dripping cunt against your face as you wormed your tongue into her hole, twisting and curling it to suck up every last drop. 

“P-please,” Kylar moaned, and you could tell she was close. You kept up your work until she cried out your name and even more juices gushed out of her. 

She panted heavily and looked down at you, the two of you making eye contact. Kylar’s face turned even redder when you winked at her. She knew what was coming next - a princess couldn’t possibly be satisfied with only one orgasm, after all. 

You kept licking and sucking her wet cunt at a steady pace, enjoying the way Kylar writhed and moaned above you. To you, there was nothing more arousing than watching her come completely undone by your hand (or mouth, that is). 

Your deft tongue drew a second and even third orgasm from the princess, who at this point was practically sobbing from it all. She choked out your name with a soft “please,” and you knew she had hit her limit. 

Wrapping your arms around Kylar’s soft thighs, you suddenly flipped her over so she was on her back, and you now were hovering above her. With her wide eyes gazing up at you, pupils wide, you bent your head down and kissed her passionately, forcing her essence into her own mouth. 

“You always taste so sweet,” you murmured against her lips, looking at her with heavily lidded eyes. Her adorable, fucked our face made you want to lower your head back down and keep drawing out orgasm after orgasm. But you held yourself back. “Was my work satisfactory to your highness?”

Kylar, who needed a few moments to catch her breath, nodded. “Y-yes,” she managed. “You did, u-um, you did quite well.”

You grinned. “Good,” and went to settle in next to her, but you suddenly found yourself flat on your back, Kylar straddling your thighs. She flashed you a slightly crazed smile. 

“Your turn.”

[lazyscience]

Dungeon Crawler Carl Challenge

[EDIT: PARTY IS FULL, alas I have hit a wall for how much AI I am able to write in a single evening. thank you all though for there being enough interest to actually take time :) ]

So I've been feeling pretty low the last few months. I know I'm not the only one riding that struggle bus, that a good number of the friends and mutuals around these parts are also feeling um. Uninspired, by current events. Demoralized, saddened, angry, confused, bereft - some of all of that.

One of the things I've been enjoying over the last year or so have been the Dungeon Crawler Carl books; some of you are probably also familiar, given a number of tabletop RPG folks hang out around these parts. If you haven't tried them, I heartily encourage them - they're cartoonishly violent, thoroughly offensive to anything resembling a religious or socially conservative sensibility, laden with body horror, full of cocker spaniel slander, and wildly vulgar in a teenage-boy sort of way. They are also full of complex and interesting female characters, affirmative masculinity, kindness in great duress, found family, anti-capitalism, pro-skepticism and determination in the face of overwhelming odds. A LOT of shit blows up. And the hero's wisecracking BFF is a Persian cat who is half Real Housewife, half neglected child.

The point of all this introduction to say: the titular Carl's mantra with which he is surviving the dungeon is, You will not break me.

And damn if I don't think he's got a point.

Spraytan Hitler getting inaugurated and nominating his bumbling coterie of asskissers to the Cabinet? Fuck him. Not gonna break me.

Morons trying to take rights, safety and bodily integrity away from people I love? Fuck them, not gonna break me.

People at work making THEIR months of fucking around MY workload problem now? Fuck that, not gonna break me.

Stupid chronic pain? Fuck it, not gonna break me.

Stupid depression and anxiety? Fuck no. Not gonna break me.

Now, dear reader, your challenge, should you choose to accept (you don't need to be a longtime follower or a follower at all, just a fellow crawler in this bullshit dungeon that is currently our lives who would like to stick it to The Corporation/The Universe At Large)

The AI of the dungeon likes to give Achievements. These are snarky, profane, moments of catharsis when you've finished a quest or defeated an enemy describing your reward (frequently just 'you're still alive, good for you') And since I don't have the wherewithal to send you guys the Celestial Benefactor Boxes you're out there grinding for, that's all I can give you - but if you want 'em, tell me what quest you've beaten/mob you've splattered each day and I'll give you an Achievement.

Mobs can be tasks you've been dreading, phone calls you don't want to make, awkward conversations, doctor's visits you don't want to schedule.

Quests are good things you're doing for yourself. Working out/making opportunities to move in any way? Making art/crafting/writing/other creative endeavors? Learning a new professional or personal skill? Reading longform books (of whatever genre) instead of doomscrolling? Making an effort to heal your relationship with food in ANY way you think is appropriate FOR YOU? Treating yo' self? Pedicures are a buff in the dungeon! (it's probably best to not ask why)

Party up - when we're doing something with/for others - or letting others help us - we are stronger together than we are apart.

Some days, all you're up to is staying alive. Just staying alive is a worthwhile accomplishment.

I am going to try to every day for the next 30 to post at least one mob I've fought, quest I've been working on, or party I've joined. And anybody who would like one, reblog mine with yours and I'll give you an Achievement.

Now get out there, crawlers, and kill, kill, kill!

[tiralja]

Mabinogi is a game that is really difficult to play when you have troubles keeping to a single task since the game is so shock full of things you can do. For example:

My friend and I, whom I managed to drag into playing the game roughly at the same time as myself, have been using this system where we can do p much anything in the game by ourselves but any difficult quest, main story (blaanid really) or dungeons we do together. This was great as long as the main stories werent that long, heck both the elf and the giant introduction quests in iria are at least nowadays super streamlined and quick to go through. But the Alchemist. I've been drooling over life drain and make rain since the very beginning but since they've been locked away behind a gen quest I've just been quietly pining over them and now they're finally at my fingertips and! I wanna go cook something!!! I finally figured out how to sew a while ago!!! I can transmute my unkown ore fragments into iron and keep blacksmithing!!!!! I wanna do all the things that have nothing to do with the Alchemy quest line to break it up a little since it's so long. Like, don't get ne wrong. The alchemy quest line is maybe my favorite storywise, right after Naos backstory but I wanna go craft!!!!

Why is this a promble you might say? Why wont I just pause the story quest for a while and go craft? It's not like there's time constraints on finishing it?

Well! That is because i didn't mention this magnificent system my aforementioned friend and I came up with, where we fuck around doing random stuff in the game untill we run out of AP at which point it's time to do some blaanid stuff and get a shitton of AP to fuck around doing some random stuff some more!

All this to say that I am out of AP and I'm so glad I got into this game after the Blaanid storyline was implement, my hat is off to you og gamers who had to actually grind for tose APs and levels, couldn't be me.

[3gremlins]

tag your moots and tell them something random about yourself tagged by @dreamerinsilico (ty!) and replying now before i forget like i usually do with these things (i always go "awwww that's so nice! i will participate in this later" and then it flitters away). stealing your format b/c i am basic XD right now i'm reading: actually in between books atm ( i read books in big chunks, i'll read a bunch in like a week and then wait a bit before i do it again), but i have one more murderbot book to read and i can't recommend ALL OF Martha Wells' body of work ENOUGH (not just murderbot, but also murderbot is very good). i have another big series from her that i'm excited to dig into (probably after all the events i have in the next 3 weeks) very much rec "Witch King" (my brother handed it to me last october and was like "read this" and i read it in like a day and immediately preordered the next one) and the "Raksura" series if you're only familiar with her via murderbot watching/listening media: i'm always watching/listening to a lot of stuff b/c i watch/listen to a lot of things in the background while i'm working (much of it trash lol which is why any time a friend is like "oh i saw this embarassing series it's x" i'm like "oh no worries i've seen all the seasons of that") things i can rec: murderbot! it's really good, really thoughtful, pretty faithful to the books too (i wasn't sure about skarsgard at first but he's excellent in it). I look forward to it each week. all of drop out (this season of game changer is really good! i've also been really enjoying parlor room, which is new and kind of a light on ramp to watching people play games which i don't normally like that much) Sentimental Garbage: this is a podcast and it's delightful! It's kind of a general media review podcast that does a lot of romance and fantasy stuff as well as general ideas. The thing i like BEST about it though is the host has the absolute best snort laugh in the whole world (eps: the whole sentimental in the city SATC run and follow up on AJLT are very funny. Also: The Dark Materials, Dragonheart, The Princess Bride, Gilmore Girls). But honestly I just rec scrolling through it and seeing what you're into. what i'm playing: currently sort of hyperfocused on art stuff and don't have a ton of time to play games (i get really tetchy doing other things atm) but in occasional free moments: tactical breach wizards: this game is so unexpectedly delightful, i've really enjoyed it. I am at the end (i think?) and therefore dragging my feet (i'm very much a person who never wants to finish games) a bit. valheim: the viking building survival game! i started a new viking and have been working my way through it again (the last time i played was before they added the mistlands & the ashlands), it's got good building loops where you don't have to progress if you don't want to (i'm very much a "be over leveled for all bosses b/c i liked crafting more" kind of person) so i mostly just use it as a slightly dangerous building/farming sim destiny 2: idk if i can really rec this to anyone because it's such an obtuse silly game atm, but i mostly just play with my brother and we have been working our way through the various dungeons and getting slowly better at playing which is fun. We have recently been grinding "warlord's ruin" for buried bloodline and are unbelievably pleased with ourselves every time we complete it (even though we've now done it 5 times now lol). been making myself warlock now even though their jumps make me cry (hunter main)- tho tbqh both my brother and i are TERRIBLE at jumping puzzles so much of the difficulty comes from platforming for us lol mostly we are just silly and run up to randos in social zones to try and get them to do emotes with us and try to have the best guardian fashion. so that's fun optional but tagging @safetytank @shrimpssss @totally0random @allsaintsday @cl4m0art @azimedes @fugitiverabbit @valoscope and whoever else wants to do it (yall seem to be my most active moots)

[never-wednesday]

So i did some Stupid Fuckshit this past month in final fantasy ffxiv: I wrote a character who i wanted to be a reaper through MSQ for story reasons.

This means that in order to accomplish what I want i need to be reach level 70 in a combat class, which was Paladin so I could start in Ul'dah and get fast queues.

I allowed myself some concessions: having access to the first three dungeons would grant us access to the leveling roulette, and Sylph Management will grant us a job, which makes the prospect of grinding much much more tolerable. So i allowed myself to progress the story just enough to move from Gladiator to Paladin.

It took me a total of 28 days (Oct 8th to Nov 4th), and 2 days, 6 hours, 12 minutes of playtime. Just under a month isn't bad, especially considering i spent almost a full week out of town and unable to play at all.

In that time I primarily used daily leveling roulettes, and despite unlocking PvP far earlier only used PvP for the last 5 days. Hunting logs, minimal levequests, every sidequest I could find, and pretty much any FATE I stumbled into was how I spent my time. Also, lots of Palace of the Dead. It was interesting! I'm glad I did it, and I'm glad I don't hate Reaper (I didn't have the good sense to give it a proper test on my main first) but I can solidly say I do NOT recommend this! What the fuck!

If you do want to do this though, here's my advice:

- just start doing your daily frontlines as soon as possible the exp is no joke. It's also the only other roulette you have access to besides the basic leveling roulette, and you will want that scaled exp

- pursue challenge log entries!!! I didn't realize how good these were until the LAST DAY they got me from about 1/4 of the way to level 70 to level 70 so so fast. The chocobo companion and FATE challenge entries pair very well together, so pick up some gyshal greens! It'll also make soloing those fates much faster (ask me how i know)

-rotate between activities, PotD runs, FATEs and hunting log entries are well and good, but if you don't want to feel like you're going to start fist fighting every goddamn enemy personally you also gotta spend time doing other things that are fun. That's part of why I did so many sidequests! They have lots of love and charm in them, and it's a nice break from harsh grinding. I also really spent some time learning gpose which was super fun!!

-dont divide your time between multiple classes if you can at all help it. Honestly, I'd really recommend staying away from conjurer/white mage because it's much harder to do solo potd runs with (I did lots of potd content solo out of convenience). If you are going to pick up a new class, pick up something like RDM, GNB or any other class that starts at a high level and fully commit to it till you hit your goal

-uhhh, be yourself, have fun, and test your goal class BEFORE you do this

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Behold! a miniboss!

Then the room rumbled and a paper crane fell on the floor? Abel furrowed his brow and went to pick it up, but at that moment a wave of paper cranes swooped down, seemingly of their own accord, all moving in one great rush to form some sort of giant creature. The thing roars at them and Abel can’t help wondering a little hysterically if this is one of the fabled dungeon monsters, something so dangerous it’s been confined to this place for who knows how long. Abel readies his sword, feeling like the steel in his hand is woefully inadequate for the task before him, but prepared to fight with all his might– Then Fierce almost lazily unsheathes his giant sword, slices it across the air nowhere near the monster shifting towards them, and Abel watches with something like disbelief as a beam of light is emitted, moving unerringly towards the monster and burning the cranes it comes into contact with. They are packed so closely together to make the creature that they are all ashes in moments. Wait, something is still moving! Abel turns and almost feels pity at the sight of a lone crane, charred on one wing, pathetically shuffling along the floor trying to get away from them, Fierce walks over and sets one large boot on the thing, slowly grinding the thing under his boot with an expression of boredom, like this was beneath him. Abel feels ice in his veins at the reminder of the terrible power the deity wields so casually.

It was going to be funny but then Fierce decided to be terrifying on accident.

Ok but EVIL PAPER CRANES just made me BUST OUT LAUGHING LOL

Abel would be like “am I SERIOUSLY gonna die from origami” ISSJWBFLFISBAOW HAHAHAHA

Fierce stomping on that last one did hurt my heart a little, oof :(

[labyrinth-lies]

🎞️ - how did you and your f/o(s) meet?

✒️ - what trope best describes your relationship?

⚜️ - what do other cannon characters think of your relationship?

All for Sausage uwu

OOOOHH HM ...

🎞️: see this is a toughie bc wirh e2 sausage it Used to be that i washed up on the shore and ended up under his care, but ever since i did away with my originally s/i for him i havent been sure ..

however, i DO know that in misadventures he ends up in the tavern i work at late one of the first nights . since everyone else is out building/grinding/running dungeons and all the locals are dealing with this influx of people, hes my only patron, and we start chatting !!

✒️: THIS ONE I ALSO DONT KNOW i never really think of my ships in terms of tropes because i worry about limiting myself LMAO . but with e2 the dynamic is usually very much . we both care so much so we're constantly keeping each other in check irt putting the other first emotionally . softie4softie

in misadventures, i think the relationship moves from a purely physical thing to a romantic one . sausage helps me realize that i Can have the freedom he has, i dont have to be tied down, and so its sort of the trope of like . its like a hallmark movie if the workaholic woman was a bartender and the handsome man that works at the christmas tree farm was a larping builder stud

⚜️: hmm ... i havent given this much thought, admittedly . i think his (e2) family would like me !! particularly maria, especially when i start joining in on her teasing sausage . and eddie appreciates me taking care of his son, even if he doesnt really understand whats going on with him . i think im good enough with kids that hermes would like me too !! and me being in a relationship with sausage puts me in a relationship with scott by proxy, which none of us mind, but he kind of teases me relentlessly ever since he learned that its very easy to

as far as misadventures, we dont know Enough about the dynamics yet But i do think the people in the community land are fairly amused with sausages pining, especially once i move in with him properly

[jocu-reads]

DIE Issue #5 Reread (Gillen & Hans)

Issue Six of DIE, "The Grind," features a lot — Sol acts like a catty advisor which is my favorite form of his character, Angela has to reckon with how she's let Die control her life both in and out of the game, we learn a bit more about her past, and we see how Kieron Gillen's work as a games journalist shines through with a discussion of The Crunch.

There's a very potent metaphor here between the characters in this comic are dominated by the systems of the game and those who are pushed to work tirelessly for The AAA Game, which I would call a descendant of the tabletop game in many ways.

We're entering the part of the text where my knowledge drops off some. Back when DIE was releasing, I must have read the first arc three or four times? It was all there was for roughly the first year, and I had many rereads before I ran the RPG beta, which launched sometime after Issue Five. Maybe we'll talk about those sessions I ran sometime soon.

Anyway, that's to say that these sections are very exciting as my memory is more foggy, so there's a lot of juicy stuff in here I didn't even recall. Let's get into it.

The Art

I'm always happy to see more of the dieselpunk robot designs Stephanie Hans has for the Eternal Prussians. Here's the cover of the issue, which is one of my favorites:

We also see that purple & pink used again for flashback panels. I do really enjoy how Hans's watercolor style is amplified here, it seems so dreamy. I'm still struggling a bit to see if we're to read the emotion wheel colors onto these scenes. I'd expect them to be more yellow and green if that were the case, though that may not make for a very pleasant visual look.

Oranges in this issue are so haunting. The glow of the giant machines, the dying embers around Glass Town, and of course that final sunrise over Case. Brilliant stuff.

Descend

Hey I just noticed, is Angela going down the same stairs Ash and Matt did to get to the core last issue? Maybe... Hans uses very dream-like architecture, something that invokes the nondescript mix of GM narration and battlemap abstraction in RPGs, so it's a bit hard to be certain, but it is a spiral staircase going down down down.

I bring this up because... well it's a dungeon isn't it! There's going to be a whole arc about dungeons at the end of this, but I suppose that doesn't mean the characters can't do some delving now.

I'm noticing a theme with downward motion and character monologue. Angela does it here. We get some from Ash both when she enters the Glass Town core but again when she enters the trench in Issue Three. Huh. That physical/mental descent link will become really potent by Arc Four. Let's keep an eye out on that as we keep reading.

Angela Runs Away

A fair amount of this comic deals with the characters refusing (or being unable) to change from who they were as teenagers and how that continues to fuck up their lives both in and out of the game. Angela, as Ash describes her, has always been trying to avoid something by moving onto what's shiny and new. As we know, this how she ends up playing the game in the first place—Ash takes her so she'll stop being upset about the family dog dying.

This is what has pretty quickly happened upon entering Die again too. One of the first things she does when she has spare gold is boot up Case again. I've commented on this habit as being kind of wasteful in the past. I think that comes off harsher than I intend though. I don't think she's dumb to keep feeding him gold, but I do think she's being a bit selfish. In this issue, when the Ash party is hunkered down and barely scraping by, that "bit" becomes "kind of a lot actually."

Ash calls her out on this and she runs away from the confrontation, one she knows will inevitably worsen.

Keen readers may pick up on this, but I think Ash may be a bad sister.

We also learn she did this around her later life too. Working in the AAA game space and leaving projects. Escaping a strained marriage with someone new. Packing up and leaving when her husband found out. Trying to apologize after her new partner felt things got too heavy. I don't think it's too much of a stretch to say her spending time with Case is running away from the matters at hand as well. Angela also realizes this by the end of the issue and this time puts a stop to her actions.

And yet. She's still running away from confrontations here too. Matt offers to take her emotional pain at Case's death away, something he can do as a Grief Knight (we'll talk about that in a sec) and she accepts the offer. Sure is lucky to have someone around that can eat all your sadness. Surely that isn't a poor coping mechanism or anything.

Another big problem Angela has is how often she jumps into terrible consequences without thinking too much. Like, okay, playing a game with your freak older "brother" and getting sucked into a nightmare world is kind of a freebie—I certainly can't blame her for that one. But the robot arm? I think it's clearer how that could backfire on you in the Genie Logic world they were in.

The other notable Campaign One mistake Angela made was dating Chuck, which seems like an obvious bad idea. But hey, she was just a kid right?

Problem is, Angela keeps following a self-destructive instinct as an adult. She gets involved in a workplace romance and her husband finds out. Terrible, but what did she expect to happen? She brings back her dog, knowing full well he will have to die again. It is a really unfortunate chain of behavior, one that is a clear consequence of her inability to sit still in bad situations and look for a good solution rather than a quick escape. Honestly, this probably made Angela and Chuck the second worst couple in the party.

I still feel like I'm being harsher towards Angela than I should, but there's a reason for that. All these problems spill over into her role as a mom too. This is something she is going to have to reckon with later. It's going to be really bad for everyone involved.

But let me cut her a break at least. This issue has given me a stronger appreciation for Angela, which I think happened when I read it back in 2019 too. This woman has been through a lot, maybe more than anyone else but Sol in the party. Despite that, she's still standing Were I in her position, I don't know that I could do much better.

The Neo

This is a weird class, since it is playing on a less defined archetype. Classically, the rogue exists to open up chests and disarm traps... and that's about it. There's certainly the sneak attacking and stealthiness of later editions and systems, but if we're looking at the B/X thief, my understanding is that it exists for one very specific use.

Angela is obviously doing more than just that though. I believe Gillen is drawing a lot on video game RPGs with the Neo, both due to it's connection to cyberpunk RPGs and therefore Deus Ex, but also with the name itself—the Neo is quite literally the new RPG.

The class also has one of the more "game-y" mechanics, a term I think is stupid but sometimes useful (what is a "game" after all? I guess "video game-y" is more apt.) Her abilities are on recharge, she needs power-ups to use them, she makes very concrete choices as to what to use and when. It is not unlike, say, a level up tree in Skyrim (or perhaps System Shock would be the more apt comparison of the games I've played.) It's also very telling that her class seems to convert money to playtime, a la arcade cabinets.

Your character's upgrades in System Shock 2

This puts what the classes are there for into better perspective for me. They are catering both to the traditional D&D classes, but also to types of players and types of games. We've talked about the Dictator and Master as storytelling classes, those who get deep into the roleplay and intrigue. Godbinder is another of those, but perhaps with more of a court and faction game focus. The Fool exists both as the so called "beer & pretzels" game but also fantasy pop literature to an extent, in all its forms (pulps, blockbuster trash, series that seem to never end.) The Emotion Knight fits a bit less cleanly here, but the Neo slots right into the CRPG niche. It helps that several of the characters have careers based around their class.

I think it makes a lot of sense then, that the video game class is built around stealth and the mercenary. I would consider the immersive sim as the closest video game genre to classic TTRPGs, drawing heavily on roleplay, character building, and exploitations of the world to overcome challenges rather than surpassing a scripted event. Of course, the cyberpunk flavor is a nod to Deus Ex, but the stealth comes more from Thief (which gets a direct reference in this issue too!)

I think this is also where the Neo's very wide range of powers comes from too. That's a very common move in ISs (consider System Shock, the Dishonored games, Prey. And... ugh... yes even Bioshock.) What starts as a way to build your character in a unique way often snowballs until you have everything unlocked by the end of a game... and Angela has been playing the Neo a very long time.

I should also mention the way Fair Gold plays into what Gillen sometimes refers to as an addiction for the class. I've never totally got this metaphor and frankly I think it's a little troubling. I'm just not sure what is gained by linking Angela (and the Neo) with addiction, something she does not appear to struggle with. I think it's apt to point out that she has some very poor and self-destructive patterns of behavior, but that's about where the metaphor ends. I don't have much more to say about the Fair Gold mechanic other than that for now, but maybe that'll change later.

That's enough about the class, let's talk about the other cyberpunk in the room.

The Fair (or, DIE drops another incredible concept out of nowhere)

In a shocking turn of events, this is actually the second time Gillen has made Daft Punk's Tron Legacy appearance into god-like beings. Maybe I need to rewatch that film to find the secret key to unlock his work.

As for how they're handled in DIE, the story just drops them here and says "Hey, this is the source of all of Angela's problems, a pair of painfully 'fair' and calculating cold beings that seem to delight in watching her squirm," and leaves you at that. And honestly? I really respect that. Usually Ash would delve into a monologue about all the times they encountered the Fair and how they are sooooo fucked up. Not that I don't eat that up every time, but it's nice to mix it up once in a while.

Part of me wants to crack open the RPG book and see if there's more to read about the Fair, but I don't think I will just yet. Sticking with the text in the books is probably best for now.

Anyway, I really really love these guys. Gillen will compare them to elves in one of his end of issue essays later, specifically their detached and timeless nature. I certainly agree with that.

I see these guys as a computer brain running parts of Die. I also see them as the developers designing that computer. It's a little blurry, like a lot of things in this comic.

They offer players who meet them a choice. It's a binary one, in this case the arm or the dog. They make their own decisions (to help or to forsake - to interfere or to observe) by a binary as well, literally flipping a coin. Comics love to have guys flip coins don't they.

Depending on the result of the flip, they answer "This is among the things that happen" or "This is not among the things that happen." It's a very concrete decision, as though it was always the case but needed to be known, rather than decided. There's something there with quantum observation, but I think this plays on how dice rolls and probability in general work.

When a character reaches a challenge, they either overcome it or they don't. Games have many resolution mechanics for this, but most RPGs use some amount of randomization. So will they succeed? Or will they not? The Fair side step the dice type, the difficulty class, the bonus, etc, and just give a coin: One or Zero. Why make the decision if it is already among (or not among) "the things that happen" though? Again, here we're playing with storytelling in RPGs. In the moment it seems unclear, but this stops being the case as soon as the face of a die is chosen. In fact, maybe it was determined the moment the die was cast, by which I mean cast in acrylic. If we follow what seems to be the Fair's philosophy (or Angela's understanding of it) the choices don't matter at all. The path is already determined.

I think that ties very well into the CRPG logic. There are only so many inputs and outputs a program can have. Notice how the Fair offered Angela only two options to give up. Her agency in how to garner a boon is given up from the start. Consider how this would differ from a TTRPG with a human GM, able to react to more player input. Consider how it may not differ.

For what it's worth though, Angela still follows through with the choice. Even without the Fair, she understands she has to let Case go. He dies. They get out. That is among the things that happen.

Other Thoughts

The Clockwork Prussians not knowing what to do with Glass Town (or seeming not to. Like much of this comic there's more going on) is really great. Another good nod to the GM scrambling to react after their players go way off script. "Occupying, I guess," is so great.

I talked a little about Campaign One here as well. I was on a long car ride with some friends, discussing what happens in arcs 2 and 3 of DIE the other week and while talking about how interesting (and maybe self defeating) a prequel series could be, I realized I don't actually know that much about how the party's first 2 years went. I suspect there are hints we could dig at around that though.

A big one is how Matt factors into it all. We learn here about the Grief Knight's emotion sucking abilities. Is this something he may have exercised often as a teenager? Perhaps to keep people sane and moving forward? That would be a pretty damning read, but let's tuck it away for now. I think we'll have A Lot to say about Campaign One by the end of this arc.

We close on the introduction of a favorite character of mine. We'll talk more about Augustus later.

[tenleaguesbeneath]

some musings toward hacking together a system to run my home games

combat engine wise, I'm drawn to either one-roll (well, maybe more like one+each rolls, where you roll once to determine the outcome of the whole combat and then each player rolls to determine personal consequences) or a puzzle combat system where rather than the enemy's defenses adding up to give it an armor class that you roll against, each one is a real thing.

Like, for instance, a knight in articulated plate with a zweihander would have a reach advantage (explicitly: you can't get close enough to use your weapons against him because he'll cut you up and push you back) and the armor protects all areas except for gaps too small to be practical to hit while he's up and moving, especially at range, and those are real in the game system. Rather than AC just he no-sells your attacks until you figure out a way to negate those advantages.

At the same time I want something more concrete and real than PbtA stuff does. I like the illusion that the narrative isn't just the GM and players saying stuff, that there's something concrete under it that the rules govern, that successes and failures are the result of interactions with the world and the mechanics rather than something the GM hands out. I like strings though, strings are good. I'm particularly thinking about thydungeonguy's recent posts about systems where the different parts (social interaction and combat) all play in to each other, with a shared metacurrency between combat and non-combat encounters.

I've had a little experience with Torchbearer and there's a lot I'd borrow from it and a lot I wouldn't. I like the grind. Honestly I'd want to take some of the emphasis away from the Conflict engine it has (in particular how you can basically never get enough Checks to rest properly without conflicts); just making plain dungeon crawling arduous is good. But I think I'd still want an OSR-style turn system over Torchbearer's.

Explicitly tracking characters' emotional states (like Torchbearer does, with Angry and Afraid as status conditions) is good.

I'm especially thinking of this in conjunction with psionics, and in particular this twitter thread about psionic archetypes and how D&D gets them wrong. Since I'm lately playing sci-fi psionic stuff that's on my mind.

I want some degree of random character generation, though stars without number's thing of making that optional but then giving an expectation value somewhat higher than opting out (three rolls vs two picks for background skills, or the raise option if you roll stats 3d6 in order). Not sure how much compatibility with D&D I want; that'd be a nice-to-have though. Honestly, what I like from random character generation is having a process to go through to meet your character, rather than just creating someone tailor-made, and don't like characters who are entirely optimized around doing one thing well. The random boons after you pick your class in On A Red World Alone are good, although I like the option for a random class which that system doesn't have.

Likewise, I want progression to be a mix of organic and player-guided. I don't want you to plot out a build from first to max level and have all that set in stone before play begins. At the same time there is something appealing about being able to quickly generate NPCs with just class and level. Tough needle to thread. I'm not sure I even like classes for anything else. but also adventuring gets you seriously injured and you may have to retire due to that.

I also don't want high-level characters to be godlike and I don't even necessarily want them to be rich. Being the best there is at what you do but having whatever wealth you gain go as quickly as you get it is a staple story.

[awellboiledicicle]

Honestly it's going to come up when Gale finds a book on anatomy in the apothecary that's only slightly falling apart. He offers it to Anders in full view of everyone and Anders looks like hes going to have a heart attack.

Anders would hurriedly tuck the book away and very much be doing the 'act natural' thing.

Gale would ask why and Anders would have to awkwardly explain that such books are highly controlled by the Chantry in Thedas. Which leads to Gale unfortunately going "But you're a healer."

Which, given this is before they find the secret door to the Necromancy dungeon, earns a sharp intake of breath from Hawke followed by the biggest sigh that the party has heard from a human in their lives. They see why about the time Anders' jaw works, teeth grinding a bit while he decides just how into this kettle of fish he wants to leap.

"Yes I am. One of the more accomplished spirit healers in my Circle before i ran away."

"Ran a--"

"I'm guessing you don't have those here, either."

"Not the way you're implying by that tone, no."

Anders opened his mouth and snapped it shut with an audible click, grip on his bag tightly.

"I-- Right. You wouldn't-- I'll tell you about them another time." He shook his head like he was trying to physically shake the knee-jerk rant out of his skull. "But no, even when i was being trained as a healer-- anatomy books were forbidden."

"All of them? How the devil were you supposed to know how to treat a body if you didn't understand it?"

"The official answer is that mages specialized in healing were to know their business through alchemical means. Officially, we were taught what a healing poultice did to the various races, how tinctures and elixers came to their end effects. How the end result presented, and if you presented a new formula to the Enchanters or just your specific group within the Circle, you generally tested it on the rats in the cellar under intense supervision. Anatomy wasn't part of it, outside Spirit Healing--like I do. Again, officially, the spirit works out the anatomy and you're just a conduit. No official reason for a healer in a tower to know how a body works." His voice lowered without much thought, and Gale leaned closer as if half the party hadn't paused their looting to listen. "Unofficially, you can learn almost as much outside-- where you can get a hand on books from up north. There's a nation called Tevinter, terrible place, but the chantry has no sway-- they do dissections and studies all the time. Hundreds of tomes make their way south from trade or--"

"Or someone helpfully looting a slaver caravan once they've slaughtered the bastards." Hawke piped up helpfully, having taken to sitting on a box and waiting out the conversation. There was a lever he really wanted to pull and had learned not to do such things without letting the group know. Far less accidents that way. He shot Anders a grin while the mage rolled his eyes. "Basically the Chantry views cutting up a body for anything but killing mages or elves a bit too grim, and call it blood magic. Which is illegal."

"Yes, that." Anders flexed his fingers and tried to not mind the audience he'd gathered on this generally private conversation. "If it weren't for having been a Warden, i'd have never seen an actual anatomical model. And then Hawke was kind enough to stock my shelves with every book his money could buy."

"Much to mother's distaste, if you recall."

"I remember her distaste with me, too, and she got over that eventually."

"True, but you came free."

Anders scoffed and tried in vain to keep the fond smile off his face. It dropped when he glanced back at Gale and remembered the topic.

"My point is: even if you weren't a mage, getting caught by the Chantry having something like an anatomical book could get you killed if the wrong Mother was in command of the local chantry. If you were a mage, though, the best outcome you'd hope for is death."

Gale weighed his options about asking after that last point and jumped tracks.

"Seems your Maker has some very strong opinions on reading material."

Hawke suddenly got very interested in the cracks in the ceiling and Anders pursed his lips as his shoulders tensed.

"You'd think that, wouldn't you? From how the Grand Clerics and Reveared Mothers pass down sanctions and edicts--" Another teeth clicking snap of his jaw, followed by a deep breath in and out. Once he'd calmed some, he continued. "No."

"Pardon?"

"The only one who knew what the Maker spoke of, for or against, was Andraste and she was killed."

"So... they're just guessing."

"Essentially."

"And you've no other gods to push back on it?"

"Flames, no-- the Maker was, before he turned away, the only one that bothered to manifest."

"Well, there's the elven Creators." Hawke sighed. "But they had their whole thing with being locked in the Fade for... shit, should have asked Merrill more. Ah well."

"Yes, fine, but historically they never cropped up in opposition to the Chantry directly. Elves, certainly-- there were whole exulted marches to that effect-- but not their gods."

"Wouldn't have been written down if they did, though."

"What," Wyll piped up, setting aside a barrel lid. "They edit history, too?"

Hawke and Anders shared a look.

"Do... people not do that here?"

"Nominally, in so far as the victor of a battle generally writes the history." Gale quirked an eyebrow. "But generally, the losing side's story still gets out and eventually into the history books."

"Huh." Anders blinked for a moment. "No, if you lose to the Chantry, you're only remembered as a faceless horde that fell under righteous blades or whatever they decide to spin it as."

"Good gods, you'll tell us people don't get taught to read next."

"Well, that depends on if you're rich or a woman." Hawke shrugged at their following confusion at the last detail. "Women read and write the laws of the Chantry, men follow it. Don't usually need to read to sing the chant, just learn it."

"To clarify, it was a man that betray the Maker's bride and one that killed her." Anders did not seem to know how to handle the assorted looks from those listening, and continued. "And since the Maker's chosen was a woman, they hold sway in the Chantry. Outside of that, things are generally equal. Mages are all taught our letters, along with the chant. Your average peasant knows the Kings common enough to sound out words, but most don't bother unless it's in the chant somewhere."

"For context, most gods and churches here just don't want you to raise the dead and go on a murder spree." Wyll frowned. "Well, most gods. The ones that would demand that sort of thing don't generally get worshiped in the light of day."

"Not that this all hasn't been extremely fascinating, but could we please get back to dealing with the matter at head?" Astarion most definitely did not complain from his corner of the room, where he'd been slowly sorting aromatics to purloin. Which he'd finished just a bit ago, thus entirely rendering further pause unnecessary. "That lever on the wall looks interesting."

"Worried about dying of old age?" Hawke huffed, standing back up and nodding to the group before placing his hand on the lever. He ignored Astarion's faux aghast expression. "C'mon. We can talk more about how terrible the Chantry is at camp."

And then they found Necromancy Basement and Hawke was in 0 mood to do anything but destroy the book and kill things.