#but i’m also putting together a number of d&d campaigns

[patchodraws]

so i’m kinda working on a number of wips rn, namely:

- a paper girls beach house au for summertime

-an isobaylin horror/drama story exploring their own traumas for halloween

- a few original screenplays for short and feature films

and

- my original novel story, horizon: nexus

anyways, ask me anything about them !! i wanna get back in the habit of talking about my writing on here !!

[nosnet]

Death of a Bachelor, or A Leap of Faith

By J. D. Dennis

Time Period:  September 21st, 2018

Perspective:  Vince

Rating:  R

Content Warnings: Major Character Death, graphic description of death, lack of context or remorse

Word Count: 4,193

Comments: Written as part of the end of the campaign, Legacy of Varnhagan. Giving any further context for this without explaining the entire campaign is basically impossible but I’m not sorry lol

He really needed the rain to calm the fuck down before his entire notebook dissolved in it. 

Of course, Vince knew the rain was likely magical, and like many of the magical effects created around him, it was highly dependent on the emotions of the caster, which weren’t changing any time soon. And everyone that could have done magic that day had every right to be absolutely pissed. It didn’t mean he also couldn’t be mad about it, though. 

He was sitting on what was left of the battlefield, on what was left of City Center Park, beneath a small umbrella that was mostly intact, trying to finish writing in his notebook before he dove back in to assisting as best he could. The Park, the location of the final battle, once a square city block of green grass, full of paths lined with thin, pretty trees that came together in a small canopy and vibrant fountains, was a mess of burnt grass and shattered brick, downed trees and dripping, broken fountains. There wasn’t much left intact - not even the buildings around it survived. White smoke rolled out of crashed cars, and dust and rubble from a destroyed parking deck still hung lazily in the air amid the rain. There was still fighting, of course - they’d only done enough to punch a hole into the center, they hadn’t cleared the outer lines yet, and reinforcements kept coming in - but inside the Park was calm. Like the eye of a hurricane, there was stillness, quiet.

Smoldering grass still smoked, long lines of dark gray breaking up the emptiness of the park, but there wasn’t fighting there anymore. Most of their friends lay, splayed, in torpor or unconscious, on the wet grass. Some had gone under to go and fight more elsewhere - others had just been absolutely wrecked in combat. Others, clearly injured, were still picking themselves up, trying to repair enough of the damage to get themselves to safety, or better yet, get themselves back out into the battle that still raged just outside the boundaries of the Park. Vince could still hear it, just off in the distance, not really very far at all - screams, crying, shouting, the wet sounds of objects making contact with flesh, the smell of blood, fresh and stagnant, recently flowing and half dead. Much of it was covered by the smell of burning flesh, fire, a thing his kind feared above all, being used to great effect all the same. 

This entire battle was a testament to what one could put aside if the needs were great enough. 

He paused to look up, scanning the battlefield for anything he might have been able to help with - that wasn’t a long list, honestly, but he’d try his damnedest all the same - but he couldn’t see anything needing immediate attention. There were still plenty of people fighting back the waves of bodies meant to stall them - that failed - even if the numbers were significantly thinner than before, which meant he wasn’t needed there. They’d lost a lot, by then, but the cost was worth it, as they’d lose even more just to let it be. He shook his head, tearing his gaze away from the battlefield to go back to writing in his book, the only thing he could think to do. He couldn’t get too distracted on nothing - he had to finish what he started before he could let himself get lost on anything less than urgent. He needed to fill out this last page, put a final mark on the book before he could put it away. He didn’t want to leave this chapter of his life with a blank page. Something about that felt wrong, sat weird in his stomach that hadn’t been properly hungry in three years, making him feel almost ill at the idea. It mostly amounted to the fact that he didn’t want to die with things left unsaid, unwritten, unfinished. Especially since his book was so close to being truly full.

It wasn’t a book like a novel - trying to write a novel during this nonsense would have been all but impossible, and that would be for someone who was good at creative writing - but the book of notes he’d taken over the course of the few months they’d been working towards their goal. He’d started the notebook a year previously, buying a tiny blank book from Walgreens when he needed a replacement, and he’d kept it up through that adventure and the one that followed. They’d needed the notes, tracking their allies and keeping up with questions that would have otherwise been lost, holding all the relevant information in a place they could access it, and now, as the final battle drew to a close, at least on the material plane, he was trying to finish it. It wasn’t easy, as rain pounded down around them, the storm above hellish and hiding all the stars, the wind high and the rain coming in sideways, but he was trying. He had one page left, just one. He had one thin, flimsy, miserable page left, and the only thing between him and shutting the book on this part of his life, literally, was trying to figure out what to put on it. 

He was alone, sitting under the umbrella on the table as the seats wouldn’t have kept him dry, solitude in his attempt at escaping the worst of the rain, tapping the pencil to the page like maybe it would start writing on its own, cigarette hanging from his mouth, unlit. Most of his friends had gone into the Shadowlands, leaving him alone with the injured or the inept, those that could fight reforming with the line that kept the park safe. Most everyone that remained wasn’t equipped - mentally or physically - to deal with the hellish realities of existing in the Shadowlands, even if they were decent enough or healthy enough to deal with a couple zombies or szlachta, and that was fair - Vince considered himself one of that group. He wasn’t there because he was a good fighter, or a smooth talker. He wasn’t there because he was strong of will or hearty of soul. He wasn’t there because he was particularly good at anything, honestly - he was there because he was lucky. He was lucky, and clever, and he took notes, and he’d fallen into the wrong place at the wrong time. He’d met the wrong people at the wrong time, and while he’d walked away from the encounter and he’d survived it, it had only spiraled down from there. 

He paused, finally finding the thoughts to put on the final page like a lightning strike from the blue. His best words and plans came to him like a bolt through his brain, and he wasn’t going to let this one pass him by. He started writing, scribbling quickly, hiding the book from the rain with his own body. He started by explaining, carefully, to the page, why he hadn’t gone to the Shadowlands - it was because he’d remembered. He’d been chasing a memory hidden deep in the wells of his thoughts for years, and finally, seeing the person that hid those memories from him had brought them back, little by little. He’d had them flood his senses, one moment at a time, suddenly so vivid in his brain when he couldn’t have recalled them before if he’d wanted to. He scribbled down the images that swam back to him, what he could describe, and then like the rest of his life he just kept going, unburdened by the concepts of editing or rewriting. He didn’t need it to be perfect, just full. He didn’t need it to be a novel, he just needed it to be there. He needed the sense of completion, not clarity of content. 

He described how she looked, the night they’d met - cute, small, homeless, scared - and how he’d related. He’d been there, recently homeless, traveling, nothing to call his own but a pack of cigarettes and a leather jacket and a charming smile. He mentioned how she’d hung off his arm, how comfortable that felt. How he’d tried to buy her a drink and she wouldn’t follow him into the speakeasy. How she’d saved him, without a second thought, when she rightly could have left him to die of his own stupid mistakes. He paused there, the vivid call of her voice in his head -It’s going to be okay - before shaking the thought away. He couldn’t face her, not in battle - it was dangerous, too dangerous to do - but he could remember her. Fondly, even. He didn’t believe others like her would have been that altruistic if given the chance, and that was what inspired the fond feelings, because that felt… special. He wasn’t anybody to anyone then, not even her. He was a drifter, homeless, hungry, tired, running scared, and she’d cared. It was strange, remembering someone fondly that, not ten minutes earlier, had it out to kill him. But that was just who she was, really. That was just who he was. Heart too big for his body, brain too small to compete with the lingering affection.

It was strange that one of the people trying to end his very existence, and the world, was the same one that brought him violently into it with her compassion. 

He huffed, writing faster for a moment, angry now. They were trying to end them all, all vampires, but he didn’t understand why. He understood at least the Baali’s deal - this was what they spent their lives aiming for. The end of the world, for them, was almost religious, and Vince never figured people that deep into religion to be particularly easy to change. But they weren’t the only ones who’d tried to kill all Kindred. The party had defeated the original orchestrator, Pip, the Bad Guy in their story, and his ideals - kill all vampires - were what had started all of this, and what made Vince so angry. He’d claimed that vampires were a net bad, that they were worse than they were good, that they only caused pain, but Vince didn’t believe him. Sure, it was a Kindred that forced him, rather violently, into their world and without his consent to boot, but ultimately, he’d made the choice not to walk away. Twice. And past that, he’d spent months talking to others, and they had a large group on that battlefield that night that gave a shit, and wasn’t that enough? They’d managed to take Kindred that would have, in normal circumstances, killed each other - hell, they’d managed to take Kindred that almost tried to kill each other in those circumstances, of all things - and gotten them to fight side by side, like friends. Why did it have to be that the only solution for bad Kindred was destroying the entire concept of them in the first place? It seemed excessive, and unfair, as at least some Kindred tried their best to be good people beyond their faults. Vince was, of course, thinking mostly of himself and his group - they hadn’t wronged anyone, not really, not without being wronged themselves, but to Pip, they deserved to die as much as anyone else. Collateral damage, probably, something Pip considered worth it if the worst vampires also died. 

Well, as far as Vince could tell, the worst vampire in existence had just died with a rocket to the face. 

He signed off the book, closing the pages with reverence. He’d said what he had to say, and that was it. He’d put the final pin in a chapter of his life he was ready to have close. His last words, he’d called them. There was a subtle irony in those words, as part of him really thought they might be his last. He’d been told, at the beginning, from someone he still loved and trusted, that a choice he made would kill him - but he wasn’t even allowed that choice. The party had made it together, without discussion, and that was it. But that was also kind of Vince’s life - the things he probably should have had the biggest say in were things he didn’t even get to consider for himself. If the universe was as described, his death was guaranteed, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. But he’d gotten through the worst of it already - they’d done their fight, they’d killed their boss, and he wasn’t going any further. He was just helping clean up, now, which should have been the easy part. He didn’t know how that could kill him when the Devil himself had walked away without raising a hand to fight him. 

He just hadn’t been wrong before, and he’d learned not to doubt himself like that. Even when everyone else did. 

He closed the book up, placing it and his jacket beneath the umbrella in an attempt to keep the notebook dry. The jacket was old, graying leather, given to him by Al years previously, and he pressed a hand to it fondly. It had been through a lot, and he loved it, and that's why it was staying with his notebook under the umbrella. Everything was much safer there than out in the rain, even if it meant he was more apt to get soaked. He tucked his jacket around the items there reverently, taking a moment to shake the rain from his hair one time. He didn’t feel cold, but wet was still uncomfortable, and being dry for even a moment felt nice. He was excited for all this to be over - he missed the small moments of feeling nice. He had left the rest of his things there, too - keys, an empty pack of cigarettes, a lighter with no flame - leaving him in just his jeans, his stupid t-shirt, and his sneakers, a damp and droopy cigarette hanging out of his mouth and his wedding ring on his finger, his rifle still slung over his back. He hoped he wouldn’t need it, but he’d be dumb to leave it behind. The t-shirt stuck to his thin frame like a glove, and his sneakers nearly had holes in them. He had boots at one point, but he wore right through them, which was kind of sad. He paused there a moment, looking at the collection that was his life sitting out in front of him like it could dictate the story he’d been through in just the visual, before shaking his head. Now was not the time for reminiscing.

He stepped back out into the rain, immediately soaked - ugh - looking around to see in what way he could actively help. The main fighting was over, and the park was ultimately clear, if highly damaged, and the only real fighting left was in the streets. It was a ruckus out there, blood and screams and gunfire happening with wild abandon. A few of the kids - and god, were they children, actually children, and Vince felt for them because he’d been there once upon a time, he’d been young and dumb and bumbling through the world - were trying to drag unconscious or torpored allies to an area under an awning where they could be cared for properly. There were far too many of those, and far too few people left to carry them, but they did good work. He scanned through those that were left in the park – there were the Lisowskis, two of them, standing, weapons ready, over the fallen forms of their friends, two others raising walls around the area to stop wandering szlachta from coming through the ranks; he saw Corryn and Rashida and Davis, carting the first of their allies over to the awning; there was one of the remaining Tremere, Weaver, checking over the bodies to see who was wounded and with what; the other, Caul, using magic to help create a better awning out of branches and leaves - and then scanned the battlefield, noticing that there were more bodies out there besides their friends. They weren’t allies, but the enemies, splayed out on the grass in the rain. Vince winced, because honestly, it wasn’t really dignified, and if they were supposed to be the good guys, the good Kindred, the people that deserved to be kept alive because they could exhibit compassion to others, they couldn’t just leave them like that. 

Vince carefully trotted over to Molly, one of the other bosses they’d fought. She was tall, but she looked rather light, her dress pooling around her thighs, her limbs splayed awkwardly. Vince paused over her, just for a second, before reaching down and bundling her into his arms. He was gentle, picking her up in a princess carry, making sure he grabbed only dress and didn’t accidentally get handsy with her thighs. In that moment, looking at her face, her blond hair curled around her cheeks, pink lips and dark eyeliner and soft jaw, she looked so much younger than she had before. She looked almost like a child, sleeping. He shook his head, trotting back over to the awning, ignoring the look of fear or defensiveness he got as he did so. He moved past them, setting her gently under a different part of the awning, straightening her dress and making her at least look dignified in her torpor. 

“What are you doing?” Corryn asked, watching Vince with concern. He turned to her, a sadness to his face, and he noticed that everyone had paused to watch him. Even the vines had stopped moving, Caul’s face drawn into a frown, though the leaves still wiggled in the rain slightly. 

“Pip started this because he thought all Kindred were a net bad.” Vince stated, plainly, standing between Molly’s body and the others, preventing them from doing anything to her. “She was dominated by him; she wasn’t here because she had a choice, just like the rest of us. She deserves at least a little dignity, even in defeat. I refuse to be the kind of person Pip thought needed to die, even to the people that tried to kill us. Being a net bad is a conscious choice, and I won’t do it.” He didn’t raise his voice, he didn’t stutter - it was the strongest he’d ever felt talking before. There was no doubt in his mind what was right, and what was wrong, and he wasn’t going to let himself fall into what was wrong because it was what was easy. The others seemed to accept this, accept that she was on one side of the awning and their people the other, and they didn’t say another word in question, because it wasn’t worth the fight. They were all tired. 

“Weaver, can you contact the hotel?” Vince asked, stepping back over to the group. “Her secretary, Claire, the one we rescued, should probably know her boss is alright, if a little torpored.” Vince looked back over his shoulder, and Weaver nodded, standing up and pulling out her phone. Vince then turned to the others carrying bodies, looking at them for a moment before looking out over the battlefield at Ray. That man was too big of a guy for any one person to carry, regardless of how strong they were. “Davis?” Vince asked, and the Nosferatu nodded, no expression under the mask but no expression needed. 

“Yeah, I’ll help.” They said. Vince smiled, a sad thing, reaching out to clap the other on the shoulder before leading them out into the rain. It was still pouring, and the ground was slick, but he thought the two of them could manage to carry Ray together. “Do you, uh…you really believe that?”Davis asked, softly, as they made their way over, their voice half hidden by the rain. Vince shrugged. 

“Being a bad person is always a conscious choice. Just because we’re undead doesn’t mean we’re necessarily monsters, unless we choose to be them. And I’m not a monster.” Vince said, giving Davis a shrug. He approached Ray, standing over the man’s body, considering the challenge in front of them. Ray was a hefty son of a bitch, big and beefy, and while both of them could cart the man around, how was still a question. After a moment, Davis went to Ray’s shoulders in a silent suggestion, and Vince went to the man’s feet in implied agreement, taking a strong stance in his attempt to lift the man, hoping their unsaid plan worked. They didn’t get a chance, however. 

A shot rang out, the ear splitting vibrations sharp and loud across the open field. Davis’s mask shattered, the bullet creating spider web cracksacross the front. Davis fell, having no chance to react to what happened, body hitting the ground with a wet, sickening thump. Torpored.  Vince felt like he was moving in slow motion in those moments, his body reacting on instinct rather than pure thought. He snapped to being invisible, his obfuscate hiding him from being otherwise out in the open. He spun, crouched in the middle of the park, pulling his rifle from his back and immediately up to his shoulder. He could see, in the corner of his eye, Corryn jump up and Rashida grab her, holding her back, hidden by the growing trees and the original awning. Corryn was screaming, but through the ringing in Vince’s ears, he couldn’t hear what she said, but he knew what was happening - if she ran out there right then, she’d get shot just as much. Vince couldn’t hear much at all for a long second as he pulled his rifle up, but when his hearing came back to him, everything seemed to fall in all at once. Davis had been shot from somewhere off to the side, and even the militia could tell, the first word Vince heard shouted initially in Romanian across the crowd before it was echoed again in English - sniper. 

He scanned the rooftops, his hands clammy and steady. He would have been able to feel his heart thump wildly in his chest, but he had no heartbeat. He could feel slick wetness on his ear, which explained the ringing - the bullet had raced right past his face to hit Davis, the sound of it throwing off his hearing for just a moment. He looked first to where Al had been, a sick feeling in his stomach - did the blood bond not wear off? Did the ritual fail? Did Al take the shot? - but he didn’t see anything, or anyone. Al clearly had moved somewhere else, as snipers were supposed to do, and Vince had lost track of the man. Fuck. He couldn’t see anyone else, however, no matter how hard he looked, even checking quickly with Auspex, which sank a deep feeling in his gut that there was only one sniper, and that sniper was Al. A second from the first shot passed, and then another. His rifle scope flashed as lightning thundered overhead. 

Another shot rang out, but Vince didn’t get to hear it. 

The bullet raced through the wet air, finding home first in the glass of Vince’s scope, which exploded outward in sudden hot fury, and then further on, Vince’s eye. For a moment, there was only pain, pain racing up Vince’s entire body, radiating out from his eye, from his face, from his wound. His mouth opened in shock, dropped open as his jaw went weak, and then it was like the pain coalesced all at once in the outer edges of his body. He could, of all things, feel himself ash as he died, as the damage finally took hold in his brain, as the bullet put too much punishment into his system. He felt his hands go first weak, dropping the rifle, and then go entirely, the feeling in them vanishing as they turned to dust in the wind. It was surprisingly peaceful, dying, turning to ash. There was no more sound, just silence. It was quick, too, the moment lasting no more than a second or two. The pain subsided, vanished as his body stopped registering anything at all, and that last second of life was surprisingly calm. The strangest thing was that in his final second, he breathed out, exhaled, let go, even though he didn’t breathe. Sorry, Flid. Vince managed to think, the stray thought passing through before his brain gave up the ghost. 

He was ash before he fully hit the ground. His ring tumbled to the grass next to his rifle, losing a little shine as the ash of his body settled lightly on it. There was nothing left otherwise, just the rifle, the ring, a wet pile of ash, and his cigarette.

And of all things, his cigarette didn’t fall – instead, left hanging, helplessly, in midair. 

[atopvisenyashill]

so dany is tptwp but why do they feel the need to rectify that in the show 😭

i’m 99% sure dany’s going to have a religious fanatic arc in the books

I'm putting these together because they're kind of related. also i don't want to tag for hotd spoilers because i don't want to invite weird anons to find this or weirdos to screenshot my url so be warned i'm talking about the leaks and my dark dany theories in this one. okay-

So first of all...yes, this is why people compare her to Paul Atreides or even Anakin Skywalker in that the concept of being a Chosen One is going to go to her head in a very bad way and it's going to be a huge part of her story going forward. We're all set for this in the books tbh. We have several schisms happening in the R'hollor faith with people already saying she's a savior, and the fact that R'holloric magic works similar to Valyrian magic (ie uses a lot of fire and blood) is not lost on me. There's several prophecies centered around this Promised Hero In The Face Of The Long Night and Dany is linked to several of them; most notably The Prince That Was Promised and The Stallion Who Mounts The World, but now we have this Azor Ahai connection with the R'hollor priests coming out in support of Dany. And what's more is that Dany is primed to believe in all of this stuff - she hatched dragons and the bleeding star showed up with haste, she's had first the HOTU visions and then Quaithe's warning not to mention the whole Stallion scene and her own weird fever dream-prophecies. There's a whole city state of people who call her MOTHER. Oh yeah, she is ready to take a dive head first into being the Chosen One and make that the center point of her entire campaign. Especially imo after Stannis dies and there's this vacuum of who gets to be the insane "i have the divine right" person; Jon Snow doesn't even want to acknowledge he can warg he is not going to encourage any sort of prophecy shenanigans, and I think that opens the door for a) Dany to step into that role and b) for the followers of R'hollor sans Melisandre to see Dany as their messiah.

The problem in the original show is that they bring this up and then just kind of...drop it. When in the books - whether she is killed by Jon/Arya or ultimately pulls a Nettles - this isn't going to be a positive thing. I've seen some people describe these prophecies - The Stallion, The Prince, Azor Ahai - as warnings rather than prophecies, but to be honest, aren't all prophecies warnings of the future? The thing is the warning isn't just the Long Night, it's about The Actual Prince. Look to the Stallion prophecy-

As swift as the wind he rides, and behind him his khalasar covers the earth, men without number, with arakhs shining in their hands like blades of razor grass. Fierce as a storm this prince will be. His enemies will tremble before him, and their wives will weep tears of blood and rend their flesh in grief. The bells in his hair will sing his coming, and the milk men in the stone tents will fear his name." The old woman trembled and looked at Dany almost as if she were afraid. "The prince is riding, and he shall be the stallion who mounts the world."

I think the prophecy, the dream, the vision, the warning, the legend, whatever you want to call it, is warning that as the Long Night happens, a savior will emerge...but they are a false messiah. They will not bring an end to the Long Night, they will only create more destruction. But the people who had these prophecies focused on Bad Thing Happens -> Powerful Person Emerges From The Ashes and took that mean the powerful person will stop the bad things and not exacerbate the bad things and distract from the original problem.

Now I think part of why D&D did the ending Like That is a) they're lazy as shit and b) Dany took off as a character and they had no idea how to reign it in so they just like....didn't. I think there's plenty of evidence in the show that Dany was going to take a Stannis esque turn but depicting that was too much trouble (think about how they cut all her most banger lines because that would involve trying to get her introspective thoughts into dialogue somehow. instead of figuring it out, they just lazily cut it all out. i still can't believe these dudes got handed this IP when they clearly don't care about the themes, it makes me fucking weep. like, filoni and abrams really fucked up star wars but i think it's clear they like star wars ya know? i don't think d&d really like this series that much, not in the way condal & hess seem to) so they just short cutted to that bells scene which was fairly lazy. Her fall from grace is going to be so much slower, so much more complex, and so much more heart breaking than what was in the show. And a large part of this will center around seeing herself as a messiah to the Poor And Downtrod.

And this fall (again....I don't think it’s out of the realm of possibility that Dany snaps out of it somehow - George has hinted we're going to dig more into the magic and how it works, and perhaps there will be some revelations on the exact nature of what The Promised Prince really is that makes Dany finally reflect on her journey instead of refusing to look back, and fuck off into the Great Unknown in an attempt to erase herself from the narrative others have written for her and write her own at last. I'm serious when I say I think that's about as likely as Jon/Arya killing her after she burns KL). this fall of hers is the crux of the entire series. It's where everything is leading to, this realization that there is no promised prince coming to save anyone, it is the climax of every single story in the books. And we know Condal fucking LOVES that idea because he's been out here in interviews talking about Dark Dany since season 6 iirc but potentially even earlier. I think Condal really loves a tragic evil queen and a fall from grace and he didn't like the way they did Dany's descent. Not only that but I do think the prophecy aspect is fascinating to Condal.

The problem with all of this is like.......you can't rewrite the ending of GOT to have that aspect of the story as much as he wishes he could. You can't rewrite GOT so it had 12 seasons instead of 8. I think what he wants to do is really hint at the prophecies in the future and play with the concept of prophecy being untrustworthy but he's been boxed into this weird corner where interacting with the main story line of the books/the main show is nearly impossible because everyone hated it and george will never finish the books but this prophecy affected much more than we realize and also, He Likes It, he thinks it makes for a richer story. IDK how he fixes this, IDK where he goes from here, because having Daemon have a vision of Dany hatching eggs and realizing the prophecy was right, they DO need a Targ on the throne because a Targ will save Westeros IS imo a really interesting change that more or less fits with the story in F&B. BUT it looks like pandering, and it doesn't engage with the ultimate end game which is that Dany is not going to be happy with being the Chosen One. It's not a gift, it's not even a responsibility, it's a horror she's being forced to take up that could eat her alive. How do you even engage with those themes when the original show went Like That?

[the-teddy-bear-butch]

Hi how are you? Ask game time!

16, 47, 65 & 93?

:)

Hi anon!! I’m doing wonderfully rn! God bless the end of finals and the upcoming summer break. How are you? (Should you feel comfortable enough to reply, of course! I don’t bite :3) Thank you for giving me a chance to ramble :3 um. 16 got long so it’s at the bottom 🥰

47: how well-decorated is your bedroom?

That depends! If you mean well decorated as in how much decoration, yes, lots! Well as in nice/aesthetic um? I like it, but I know my maximalist style can be a Lot for some people LMAO. I have posters and D&D art everywhere, a rainbow carpet, Christmas lights strung through my bookshelf, knick knacks everywhere, etc.

65: do you have a Signature Outfit™?

Oh yes absolutely. Or at least a signature formula: graphic t-shirt under matching button up, jeans or shorts, maybe a cap or beanie. Here’s my favorite button up and jeans just for sillies :3

93: favorite game?

In an every context possible way (board game vs video game vs ttrpg), D&D, hands fucking down. But in terms of video games, I adore the Mass Effect series. No other video game series has made me cry quite so much. Baldur’s Gate 3 is a close second, though I am still in Act 3.

16: is there anyone you're not biologically related to that you consider "family"?

ABSOLUTELY. In fact, why don’t I tag those of them that exist here as an excuse to be a huge fucking sap about it and so you all can go follow them. (Uh. This gets long, so adding a read more thing. I get sappy after 10 pm oopsies)

While I am no longer in the fandom that brought us all together (nor are most of them), I do have to thank that fandom for being what put us all in one place. One beta reading comment left on a fic inspired me to finally pick up D&D again after years of failed campaigns—and we’ve been going strong near a year and a half now. This D&D group is fucking everything to me. These people have been with my through the lowest points of my life and I owe everything to them. Not only are they all talented in art, writing, poetry, and the many things they do, but they are all absolutely incredible people and the best friends I ever could have asked for. One little comment genuinely changed my life.

@daughterofdrearburh is one of the coolest people in the world. She’s smart as a whip, hilarious as fuck, and one of the kindest hearts I’ve ever met. If you get the chance, you should bug her about her novel (I am the number one Starblossom fan) and about her horse, Ginger, who she has made incredible strides with. I admire her a lot. Also about her homebrew/framkensteined together TTRPG she’s running, because it’s a fucking blast!!

@ninthhousesteel was actually the first of the gang that I was mutuals with!! She’s also incredibly funny (probably the most hilarious person I know, seriously they pop out of fucking nowhere with one liners that’ll leave you in stitches). She’s so fucking smart and doing incredible things in engineering (I may not understand it, but I know they’re going to do great things), as well as being a great artist and wonderful writer. Also? Incredible taste in music, frankly. Another thing to bug them about!

@haaawaiianshirt is like. I don’t even know where to start. The best personality ever. She’s funny, outgoing, unbelievably sweet, with just the right amount of bite! She’s like summertime personified, just warm and the best to be around. You can’t help but smile. Add onto that the most delicious art style and an incredible talent for so many different crafts (ask her about crochet beast!!). They’re going to be famous one day for being behind the set design of all your favorite theme parks and theme park rides.

@candle-lion is so COOL. I genuinely look up to her so so so much. Again with the super funny (literally can’t breathe with this group, you will be in stitches). One of the most talented writers I’ve ever had the pleasure of reading, an incredible DM, master at roleplay and making characters you can’t help but fall in love with, as a player or a DM. I admire everything she does in teaching—she is exactly the kind of teacher that our world is in desperate need of. She’s going to change lives, I just know it.

@lavenderlevetan where Emmie is summertime, Eve is autumn. She’s so unbelievably chill, a breath of fresh air to be around, a warm mug of tea of a person, if you catch my drift. She’s so sweet and so smart and sooo wonderful to hang out with, with possibly the most lovely laugh ever. Her writing is immaculate, and god I just LOVE the way she builds characters. You can’t help but be sucked into their inner workings. And yet another incredible artist!!

@suwunnysideup the master storyteller. I have never met someone with such a skill for weaving together stories and characters in such a beautiful web that you can’t help but be starstruck. Seriously, the world building is insane and so in depth, you can see how much they really care. They’re a fucking riot and my best fucking friend. Once again, another insanely talented artist, I need to shake their art like a chew toy. Ask them about carpe diem :3

And last but not least, while not an active PC in our main campaign, the group would not be complete without @avocadosockz . Our resident meme maker, comedian, character arc instigator, beloved guest star NPC, and best audience in the world—while also joining our side campaign as the funniest possible character choice in the world (ask her about Sadie!). Another amazingly supportive person who I appreciate with all of my heart, I love bouncing evil ideas off of her in DMs to enact upon the rest of the party. Excited for our next little scheme >:3

That’s the D&D group covered but I’m not done, if you would believe it. I will take every single chance to be a complete sap about my friends.

More people I met through fandom! I haven’t talked to them as much in recent months, which I’m terribly guilty about, they are all incredible people. @lionydoorin is a wonderful artist and a super sweet person, someone you can always rely on. They’re going to med school and I know they’re going to be fucking amazing in their field. @idyllghost is another rad artist and one of my first really good friends here in Tumblr! He’s so sweet, so funny, and so good at poetry and writing too. An artistic genius in so many ways.

@whiteredrose13 is possibly my oldest internet friend. I think we’re going on?? 5+ years now? Which isn’t much compared to some of y’all, but it’s a lot to me. Rose is one of the kindest, most supportive people in the entire world. She’s so unbelievably patient, listening to me ramble on and on about my D&D campaign and my unfinished writings. Speaking of, because I’m literally surrounded by talent, they are yet another insanely wonderful artist AND writer, with an incredible world and the most lovable OCs ever. Gabe and Ana and their entire family will always live rent free in my brain 🫶

And a special shout-out to the one irl friend who has stuck by me through everything 🫶 Elaina is so kind, so funny, so fucking smart, the best taste in music, one of my favorite people to talk for hours with. I wish we hung out more :,) (Side note, Em I’m realizing the two of you are like two sides of the same coin and would get along so we’ll probably)

If I forgot anyone, know that you are loved in equal measure, I am simply sleepy and functioning on post finals brain fry 🫶

[callofdutygame24]

Vanguard: The Perfect Blend of CoD Experiences

Yo, Vanguard’s killstreaks got a sick WWII glow-up, with dope additions like a flamethrower Juggernaut and attack and guard dogs. If you’re looking to buy Xbox games that offer this kind of intense and exciting gameplay, Vanguard is definitely worth checking out! The guard dogs are a major W—they run around on their own and only go after the enemy, which is super clutch in hardcore mode. Unlike other killstreaks that might accidentally mess up your team, the attack dogs are straight-up focused on wrecking the enemy and keeping your squad safe. Honestly, Vanguard might be the GOAT of CoD games I’ve played. After grinding out hundreds of hours in Modern Warfare and Black Ops Cold War, Vanguard is probably my top pick. It takes all the best parts from the past games and nails the balance. I had a few lag issues, but I’m pretty sure that was my bad, not the servers. If you were vibing with Modern Warfare but not feeling Cold War, or if you were into Cold War but not so much Modern Warfare, Vanguard’s got you covered. It’s looking fire, sounds dope, and feels amazing. Vanguard might just be the best CoD ever, with its jaw-dropping graphics on the new consoles and perfectly balanced gunplay. It’s got a fresh spin on the WWII and D-Day vibes, making both the solo campaign and multiplayer straight-up lit.

Diverse Heroes: Arthur Kingsley and Lucas Riggs Break New Ground in Vanguard

As you dive into the Special Forces soldiers' stories, you get to step into their shoes and play through the epic moments that shaped them into elite warriors. If you’re looking to buy PS5 games, Vanguard offers an immersive experience that lets you fully engage with these characters' transformative journeys. You’re not just battling through key WWII turning points; you’re experiencing it all through the eyes of a global squad—Task Force One. You’ll switch between characters and then head to the final showdown in Berlin, where you and your squad have to band together and face off against the Nazis in their last stand. The story’s so gripping it’ll make you wanna dive into multiplayer, which is exactly what a killer single-player campaign should do. The campaign spans four major battle zones: the Middle East, the Pacific, Berlin, Stalingrad, and Normandy. You’ll rock the role of four key characters from the Special Forces. It kicks off with Arthur Kingsley, a Black British Airborne soldier who parachutes into France. I’m here for the fact that Kingsley, who faces Nazi racism, is the squad leader—totally triggering the racist villains. This character is based on a real-life hero. Then there’s Lucas Riggs, an Aussie soldier in the Middle East taking on Rommel’s forces. He and his squad are rebels who don’t exactly follow orders but bring serious heat when they go off-script and get results.

Dynamic Battle Modes and Tactical Destruction: Vanguard's New Multiplayer Experience

The Sledgehammer crew dug deep into stories and characters, and a bunch of them make their way into multiplayer—where Call of Duty really flexes. That’s part of why the game has sold over 400 million copies total and continues to rack up 25 to 35 million copies a year. Even though Battlefield 2042 is dropping on November 19 and is all about that futuristic modern warfare vibe, Vanguard holds its own. Sure, some players might think it’s less lit to go in with WWII gear compared to modern weaponry, especially if they’re all about Warzone. But Vanguard’s multiplayer game is putting in work. It’s got different battle modes like tactical 6v6, assault with 20 to 48 players, and Blitz for massive chaos with a ton of players. Plus, there’s “tactical destruction” where you can blast through or demolish wooden barriers, kinda like what you’ve seen in Battlefield. Vanguard also rolls out 20 multiplayer maps and new modes like Champion Hill, which throws you into a small map with a Gulag-style fight and a limited number of players.

Vanguard’s Solid Gameplay Meets Some Technical Hiccups: A Balanced Review

The details are straight-up mind-blowing. At one point, you’re sprinting through a Berlin building under siege, and an explosion rattles the place, making a massive metal Nazi cross (not a swastika) drop with a loud clunk. The environments are next-level too, with little touches like flocks of birds adding to the realism. It almost feels like a cinematographer directed the game, and that’s kinda true. The gunplay is solid, and I definitely noticed the differences when using the Gunsmith in multiplayer to tweak my weapon with new attachments. That’s clutch for multiplayer, where it can feel like a grind to get your gear just right. The maps make sense, and the connections with Warzone and Zombies fit well too. It’s like the Call of Duty universe has an architect, and everything’s falling into place. Now, we just need a Call of Duty metaverse. Call of Duty: Vanguard hits the sweet spot with its historical vibes, solid gameplay, variety, and engaging story. It pulls everything together in a way that makes sense. It’s not quite as groundbreaking as Call of Duty: Modern Warfare, which was a game-changer for the franchise with its depth and intense themes. Vanguard’s a solid entry, but the combat stutters make me wonder if it’s as polished as it could be. The game’s crashed a few times, especially in Blitz modes with lots of players. Still, it’s held up really well in multiplayer, and I enjoyed grinding through to the first Prestige level with a 0.84 kill/death ratio. The more I played, the more I got into it.

[antisociallilbrat]

Even When The Sun Rises, Don't Wake Me Chp. 6

Read on Ao3

Chp. 5

Chp. 7

A/N: I have such a love - hate relationship with this chapter my God. The ending almost killed me to write.

My friends I had covid, for the third time, this past week. So I'm sorry to say this is actually another small chapter because I split it. You get the fluff first and the pain in the next chapter.

“I can’t believe you would betray me like this.”

“Bill, I’m sorry but this was your own doing.”

He drops his fist to the table, “Buh-Bullshit! You’ve hhhad it out for me th-this whole time! You kuh-killed me!”

“You’re the one who charged the Kraken without waiting for your other party members!” Mike bites back, “First rule of D&D, don’t split the party!”

“He was doing it for his honor!” Max defends Bill.

Bill parrots her, “Yeah! My hhonor!”

Mike deeply regrets putting Max and Bill together in the same room. And he means deeply regrets it. No, he doesn’t. They have done nothing but antagonize him. Push his buttons on purpose. Just for the laughs. They got along quickly. Maybe it was Bill’s easygoing disposition or the fact that Max loves annoying Mike and was overjoyed when she found out Bill also enjoys that hobby.

It’s both, it’s definitely both. 

He would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t nervous about how the campaign was going to go. It had been so long since he ran a campaign- the last time being the night Will went missing- he's only ever played in recent years, not dm'ed. That combined with the fact that Max was a total wild card. There was no way of telling if she was going to actually show up or not. 

After their incursion in the bathroom, they exchanged numbers before departing their separate ways. Which was a little weird because Mike doesn’t think he even had her number before. Sure at one point they must’ve all been in a group chat with the Party but he never bothered to save her number. There wasn’t a need for it. 

The Friday after classes let out for Winter break, he held their first session. Max never confirmed that she was coming when he texted her the details but she still showed up. “I’m here to play your stupid nerd game,” she satirized when he opened the door. The great thing was that she didn’t appear to be high. Now of course later that first campaign night when Bill offered weed, she took him right up on it. It looked like she was jonesing for it too, but this is progress. It has to be.

Now it’s Monday and their second night of the campaign. The first one was a success and he’s proud that everyone had fun. It was nice to see Max laugh again, he can’t remember the last time he saw her do so. He shocked himself when he realized he missed it. 

The weather outside is horrible and the wind rattles the windows. It’s below freezing and flurries of snow have started to stick to the ground. Everyone is bundled up under a blanket as they sit around the coffee table and the fireplace has a nice fire crackling in it. The light from it reflects nicely on the ornaments of the Christmas tree. Emily thought it was sad that they had a tree but no decorations so she surprised them by buying some.

It’s the perfect atmosphere for a boss fight. Cold, dark, gloomy, it couldn’t have worked better in his favor.

Emily’s, Max’s, and Bill’s characters were in a dungeon with a staircase that just kept spiraling down, leading to different levels before continuing its descent down. They’ve finally gotten to a level with a boss monster, a flooded basement with a Kraken, and Bill, like the barbarian he is, just decided to charge it.  

While it was in the water.

While he had heavy armor on. 

And his character had horrible dex. 

He drowned. 

Max and Emily’s characters were safe on the little dock but Bill has to make a new character. Max’s ‘zoomer’ has a magic board that can take her basically wherever she wants. Meaning her character could just glide over the water. Better yet, Emily’s druid could part the water with a spell. Bill just didn’t want to wait. 

He’s still grumbling about his character, his brave and noble character in his words (always the fucking writer) dying. Mike didn’t have a choice! Bill could have at the very least checked to see how deep the water is! Or just pass his dex checks! Too bad luck wasn’t in his favor tonight. 

“Can’t I revive him?” Emily asks, oh so innocently, “Surely there’s a way we can save him?”

“His body is at the bottom of the water, he’s pretty dead. Unless one of you wants to risk your lives and dive down after him to see if there’s anything you can do, go for it. But also the Kraken has noticed you and is eyeing your every move.” God, Mike missed this feeling of fucking with his friends. 

Bill juts his bottom lip out and mutters, “Poor Tibiscus,” as Max puts her hand on his shoulder. 

“Tibiscus I loved you like a brother but I’m sorry, I’m not risking my ass to save you. Find it in your heart to forgive me,” she dramatically pleads. 

Bill makes a few fake snivels but nods his head, “All is fuh-forgiven Madwonder. It was an hhhonor fuh-fighting alongside you.”

“Grah-eight! Our barbarian is dead and the Kraken has seen us!” Emily pulls at her hair, “My Aridena is not strong enough to fight him! I doubt Madwonder is too!”

“Hey now! Madwonder took out two skeletons in the last level all by herself! Don’t doubt her skills!” Max ignites.

Mike knows exactly what he’s doing when he says the next sentence, he just doesn’t care, “Yeah but this is a Kraken, Madwonder can’t take on a Kraken.”

Her head snaps towards him, a challenge in her eyes, “Madwonder can kick any ass of your dumb monsters. In fact, I charge the Kraken because I’m not afraid of it!”

Emily gasps, “No Max you can’t!” At the same time Bill whoops, “Let’s go Madwonder!” 

Max moves her piece towards the Kraken’s, “I’m powering up the thrusters on my board to hit him right in his ugly face.”

She moves her piece closer and he can’t stop the snigger escaping his lips, “Boom!” he yells, making them all jump, “Right as Madwonder approaches the sea monster one of his massive tentacles rises from the water, smacking her across the room! Crushing her against the wall!” He hits her piece across the board, sending it to the floor.

“You can’t do that!” Max retaliates but Mike isn’t done.

“It’s all over! Madwonder is dead, all that remains is a blood splatter on the wall! What a sad day for our heroes!” he chides. Emily cups her hands over her mouth horrified and Bill is trying to refrain from laughing. 

Max looks like she’s legitimately contemplating punching him, “You didn’t even let me roll for attack! Or try to dodge! Madwonder would’ve tried to dodge that!”

“Mhm,” he shakes his head, “It was a spring attack, you had no time to do anything,” he pops a piece of popcorn into his mouth from the snack bowl, smiling like the smug bastard he is, “You shouldn’t have tried to charge in, you just saw how it went for poor Tibiscus.” 

“He’s out to guh-get us MMax!” Bill accuses suddenly, slapping the table with one hand and pointing at him with the other in that melodramatic fashion of his, “We nn-need to make new character th-that’ll fuck with him! B-Better characters that’ll ruin his little schuh-schemes!” 

She agrees with him, taking Bill's diversion of her anger, “You’re right Bill. We need to make new characters that’ll ruin any storyline he has planned out. Better characters whose sole purpose is to fuck with him.”

Mike should be annoyed that these pair of fools are conspiring new, twisted, ways to get under his skin but he’s not. Max is here, with his friends, and is laughing. She’s not over at Oliver’s, getting high on heroin and doing God knows what with him. She’s safe right now. He did that.

He’s fully aware that there is a palpable chance that once she leaves here, that’s exactly where she’s heading. To snort something or shoot something into her veins. He has no idea how long she can go without doing so before the craving gets intense. In both D&D sessions, she hasn’t shown up high, probably out of not wanting to deal with the judgment she assumes she would get from him, but he’s not an idiot. 

He can’t control what she does when she’s not with him and if he was to try to, that would just result in pushback from Max and odds are he would never see her again. He doesn’t want that to be the case. Constantly he has to remind himself to only focus on keeping her safe when she’s with him. Doing baby steps, don’t make it about her drug habit but offer a distraction. Instead of having her focus on drugs, she can point that energy towards messing with him and playing D&D.

The last time they played, before Bill offered weed, Max was starting to get more restless with her movements. Jumpy at every little thing. Kinda like how she’s starting to get now towards the end of this session. If Bill or Emily noticed anything unusual about Max, they haven’t said anything to him. 

Mike’s not too worried about Bill or Emily though. Derek would’ve been the problem roommate but he’s away for the break. If Bill was to find out about Max or if he’s even guessed at anything, he’s not the type of guy to say anything about it. Bill leaves people’s business alone and he’s not one to judge. Bill just accepts people as they are. This is part of the reason why, even though he’s known Bill only for a couple of months, he enjoys being good friends with him. 

As for Emily, he knows she has an idea that something is up with Max. She was there when he first brought her back. Since that night she’s tried to get some answers out of him but Mike is stubborn when he wants to be. 

After he had come back from fall break, when he still wasn’t too sure what to do about Max, Emily broke him down a little. They had just had reunion sex, something he was really needing to relieve some stress, and she was curled up on his chest in her bed. The sheet haphazardly pulled over them. They were still naked and the position was more intimate than what was normal for them. She was tracing a vein on his chest when she asked what was eating at him, telling him that he was distracted, far away. 

“I need to help an old friend. I don’t know how to though and sometimes I’m not sure if I even want to. At the same time I do want to, I think,”  was what he told her.

She knew he was talking about Max, so there was no need to elaborate. Emily just hummed and murmured, “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” Then she slid the hand on his chest down to his naked cock, rubbing at it until he started to fill out. She kissed him and he was thankful, this meant the conversation was over. They had a great round two. He was much more present for it. 

Later in the week when he asked her if she would want to play D&D with them, she agreed. Happily too but…he’s felt a rift crack between him and Emily. She’s been distant since that last time in her bed. As to be expected, Mike always manages to fuck up his relationships and situationships. Hopefully, they can still be friends.  

“But what about Aridena?!,” Emily fake cries, pulling him out of his mind and back into the moment, “She’s just watched her two friends die and now she’s alone with the Kraken.” Her eyes are glazed over, she’s genuinely worried about the fate of her little character. 

He thinks for a moment. He could have the Kraken kill Emily’s character or he could be merciful. This is a boss that they were supposed to fight together because that was their only shot at beating it. He just didn’t take into account that Bill is stupid and Max is stubborn. A fault on Mike’s part.

It’s a good thing for Emily that he's in a good mood. “The Kraken watches Aridena but he makes no moves toward her. She gets the sense that the beast will stay where it is as long as she doesn’t do anything treacherous,” he says perilously, coughing to change his voice so that he sounds normal, “Basically the Kraken won’t attack Airdena until Bill and Max make their new characters.”

Max groans, “I have to do all that again?”

“You killed your character by being reckless, not me.”   “But you’re the one who killed her!” she cuts back. 

“Max you charged at this monster that you know nothing about, one that you were severely underprepared for! I had to kill your character! I swear you’re just as bad as Bill.” he laments. 

Bill squawks out a “Hey!” but neither of them acknowledges him. Too busy trying to glare each other down. It's easy to remember that when they were fighting real monsters, particularly, the demadogs, Max doing exaclty as she did now. Charging in, ready to protect her new friends. Maybe Max is thinking of that now too since she, surprisingly, relents first. 

“Fine! I’ll make a new stupid character but it’ll have to be next time,” her eyes dart to the door, “It’s getting late and I need to head out.” She runs her hands up and down her arms, trying to keep herself from fidgeting too obviously. She’s still wearing Mike’s sweater, one that she almost gave back the day in the bathroom. He had to plead with her just to keep it, it’s cold outside now and he doesn’t trust that she has anything else to keep her warm. 

Mike concedes, “Fine, this is a good stopping point anyways,” Emily moves to protest but he raises a hand silencing her, “Aridena will be safe until the next session because the Kraken can see that she’s not as dumb as her companions so it will leave her alone.” Emily lets out a breath in relief.

They all agree to play again on Wednesday. It’s winter break, it’s not like any of them have much to do. Max is quick to get up and start pulling on her winter boots. A pit of dread blooms in Mike’s stomach.

He knows where she’s going. She’s acting as if she’s aching for a hit of something strong. What’s the longest she’s been sober in recent times? Is it these times they've played D&D? God, he’d hate to know the real answer. 

But…at least she’s showing up here sober. She’s making an effort. Sure it may just be because of fear of ridicule but it still has to count for something. Max cares enough to make an effort to not be high around him. He can’t control what she does when she leaves here and for now, he just has to accept that. 

Carefully he puts their pieces away, picking up Max’s from the floor. Bill has already made his way to the pantry, scouring for a late-night snack and Emily starts to walk Max to the door. Those two have become fast friends which Mike wasn’t fully expecting. He appreciates it all the same. 

None of them are prepared for what happens next. 

“What the fuck is this?” Max yells from the front door.

He doesn’t have to guess what she’s yelling at, he can feel it. When she opened the front door a gust of wind came in and chilled him right down to the bone. When he stands to see the outside, it’s as he suspects. 

The snow is at least three feet high and growing. It's spilling into their doorway. The heavy wind blows more in and Mike rushes to shut the door. It’s completely dark outside and the wind is whistling, the snow coming down in heavy layers. 

It’s a snowstorm. One that snuck up on them.

Mike has his back against the front door and can feel the wind trying to blow it open. His back breaks out in goosebumps as it’s against the cold metal. Max looks at him, eyebrows drawn together as she’s probably trying to figure out how to get out of here. Emily diminishes any hope of that.

She has her phone pulled out, one step ahead, “It says here that the roads are closed and the University is telling us to shelter in place ‘till it blows over.”

“When did they announce this?! Max demands her. 

“About an hour ago,” Emily tells her, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. Max is starting to border real anger. Not the playful kind Emily has only ever seen her have during D&D, but the white-hot anger that Mike saw her display multiple times during their youth. Emily seems unsure of what to make of it. Mike's just happy that that anger is still there, it proves that Max is still there. 

Max rounds on him, fists clenched at his sides, “So it was when we were playing you’re stupid nerd game! We missed the announcement because of that!”

“Max even if we knew of the announcement when it first came out, it still would’ve been too late,” Emily tries to soothe, “It was a sudden snowstorm, it’s no one’s fault.”

Max ignores her, “You did this on purpose!” she blames him, “I know you did!” She’s shaking with anger. And with the beginnings of drug withdrawals. 

He laughs at how ridiculous she sounds, “Yes Max, I planned this snowstorm! I wanted to trap you here because you’re such a delight!” 

There’s a chance she may punch him. She’s angry enough and Max got into fights back in high school. That much he did know about her back then. And Mike has a smart mouth, a dangerous combination. 

She does shove him out of the way of the door, “God you’re such an ass! Fuck this shit, I’m leaving!” The wind makes him shiver as she throws open the door again. She takes one step out the door before she stops, starting to get unsure of the situation. The snow is now almost to here knees and its covering the front of their doorway.

Is he really just going to let her leave? He can’t, it’s well below freezing and Max could actually die. Fuck.

Thankfully Emily steps in before Mike has to swallow his pride and beg Max to stay. “Max,” she grabs her wrist and gently tugs her inside. Max’s fight is already draining out of her so she lets her, “The snowstorm can’t last forever and besides it’s not safe to go there now. We can all weather this out together, yeah?” 

It looks like a warzone is taking place in Max’s head. Trying to decide to either to stay here, safe, but be forced to go through drug withdrawals, or brave the storm just so she can get high. It doesn’t matter, Mike’s already decided she can’t leave. He’ll tie the brat up if he has to, Max is not dying on his watch. 

“Fine whatever,” Max mutters and barrels past both of them. He might be wrong, but he swears he saw tears starting to well up in her eyes. They hear a door slam from down the hall. 

This is when Bill makes his reappearance, eating away at Derek’s bag of potato chips, “D-Dude I think she just locked you out of your ruh-room,” he comments over a mouthful of chips. 

Well, this is going to be an interesting couple of days. 

“Bill?” he asks.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

This is when the power decides to go out. 

A/N: Get the fluff in while you can bc it's about to go to shit.

Full disclosure, I live in the south. Where the low of winter is 50 degrees. I've never seen snow. I am winging this snowstorm that has blown for plot convivences.

The next chapter won't be uploaded till the beginning of next week at the latest bc even more things happen. Check those tags again.

No seriously I spoon fed ya'll some fluff because shit is about to go down. The next chapter is over 3k words already and it's painful ;-;

Also one last note, and an important one, the reason why Max jumps around with her emotions is because that's what realistically drug addicts experience. Please bare with me through the ups and downs of Max's emotions.

Thank you for reading! I always appreciate you guys <3

[dmsden]

In Pursuit of the New - Where to get ideas

Hullo, Gentle Readers. This week’s Question from a Denizen comes from ididitforthedogs (A name I love). They ask, “ How do you keep coming up with ideas? I really struggle with coming up with all these different encounters and puzzles and NPCs and enemies constantly.”

I feel that, dogs. I truly do. Especially after so many years, it can be challenging to keep the game fresh and to keep things going. But I have learned a few tricks over the years.

First, I try to start with a solid basis. Whether I’m working on a campaign, a story, an adventure, or even just an encounter, I like to have a strong starting point. For example, the side campaign I’m currently running is set in an area that borrows some mythology and cultural nods to India, Indonesia, and Cambodia. When the party is in civilization, I look at those countries and their rich cultures and mythologies for inspiration while being respectful. When they headed into the jungle, I wanted it to feel a bit like King Kong’s Skull Island or any jungle from any old movie serial. Before I started, I jotted down monsters I thought would fit this aesthetic...girallons, kamadans, vegepygmies, assassin vines, mantraps, giant spiders...I wanted a hostile environment where even the water and plants are trying to kill the party. This gave me a very firm idea of where to start when building stories and encounters.

I like to borrow from everywhere. I mentioned King Kong earlier, but I’m also borrowing influences from the Indiana Jones movies, Romancing the Stone, and Raya and the Last Dragon. There’s definitely some influence from older D&D modules, too, like the Isle of Dread from the original Expert Set and Tomb of Annihilation. I read through both and saw things I liked (such as the throat leeches from ToA) and incorporated them into my story. I can tell you that the players had a super visceral reaction when locals explained to them about throat leeches. It definitely established the tone of the area as being hostile and deadly.

Speaking of borrowing, sometimes, simply borrowing is not enough, and it’s time to steal. Reading published adventures, whether official or third party, can sometimes find you an excellent adventure you want to run. After this side campaign I’m running is done, it’ll be back to the main campaign to face the Tarrasque, but then we’re going to play The Wild Beyond the Witchlight, and I’m super excited! I also ran Waterdeep: Dragon Heist for a group a ways back, and I’ve run parts of Lost Mines of Phandelver for several groups. If you don’t want to just flat out run the adventure for your group, but you need something for them to do while you write your next masterpiece, steal a few encounters or a whole encounter area out of a module. Maybe you want to run the Cragmaw Hideout part of Phandelver, but you don’t want to deal with all the rest. That’s fine. Make it yours and run with it.

Sometimes inspiration comes from an unexpected source. I always say that there isn’t anything you can’t draw inspiration from for a game. Are you watching Top Chef? Let it inspire you! Maybe the PCs are hired by a famous chef to gather a roc’s egg for the ultimate omelette. Did you get inspired by your favorite CSI-type show? Borrow elements from that week’s case, give it a fantasy twist, and suddenly your players are wrapped up in a Murder Most Foul! You can steal names, situations, characters, and more. Just file off enough of the “serial numbers” and add your own elements. Your players never need to know...or tell them! It might be funny. Just wait until after the fact.

I hope this helps, dogs. There’s tons out there to draw inspiration from. Make sure you have solid footing, and you’ll put something great together. Until next week, Gentle Readers, may the dice fall ever in your favor.

[thedeadhandofseldon]

The Anti-Mercer Effect

On the Accessibility of D&D, Why Unprepared Casters is so Fun, and Why Haley Whipjack is possibly the greatest DM of our generation.

(Apologies to my mutuals who aren’t in this fandom for the length of this, but as you all know I have never in my life shut up about anything so… we’ll call it even for the number of posts about Destiel I see every day.

To fellow UC fans - I haven’t listened to arc 4 yet, I started drafting this in early August, and I promise I will write a nice post about how great Gus the Bard is once I get the chance to listen to more of his DMing).

Structure - Or, “This is not the finale, there will be more podding cast”

So, first of all, let’s just talk about how Unprepared Casters works. Because it’s kind of unusual! Most of the other big-name D&D podcasts favor this long, grand arcs; UC has about 10 hours of podcast per each arc. And that’s a major strength in a lot of ways: it makes it really accessible to new listeners, because you can just start with the current arc and understand what’s going on!

And by starting new arcs every six or seven episodes, they can explore lots of ways to play D&D! Classic dungeon delve arc! Heist arc! Epic heroes save the world arc! Sportsball arc! They can touch on all sorts of things!

And while I’m talking about that: Dragons in Dungeons, the first arc, makes it incredibly accessible as a show - because it lets the unfamiliar listener get a sense of what D&D actually is. (It’s about telling stories and making your friends feel heroic and laugh and cry, for the record). If I had to pick a way to introduce someone to the game without actually playing it with them, that arc would definitely be it.

And I’d be remise not to note one very important thing: Haley Whipjack and Gus the Bard are just very funny, very charismatic people. Look. Episode 0s tend to be about 50%(?) those two just talking to each other about their own podcast. It shouldn’t work. And yet it DOES, its one of my favorite parts, because Haley and Gus are just cool.

And a side note that doesn’t fit anywhere else: I throw my soul at him! I throw a scone at him - that’s it, that’s the vibe. The whole podcast alternates between laughing with your friends and brooding alone in a dark tavern corner - but the laughs never forced and the dark corner is never too dark for too long.

Whipjack the Great - Or, the DM is Also a Player!

I think Haley Whipjack is one of the greatest Dungeon Masters alive. The plots and characters! The mechanical shenanigans! The descriptions!

Actually, let’s start there: with the descriptions. (Both Haley and Gus do this really fucking well). As we know, Episode 0 of each arc sees the DM reading a description - of a small town, or the Up North, or the recent history of a great party. And Haley always strikes this tricky balance - one I think a lot of us who DM struggle with - between giving too much description and  worldbuilding, and not telling us anything at all. She describes people and events in just enough detail to imagine them, but never so much they seem static and unreal - just clear enough to envision, but with enough vagueness left to let your imagination begin to run wild.

While I’m thinking about arc 3’s party, let’s talk about a really bold move she made in that arc: letting the players have ongoing control of their history. Loser Lars! She didn’t try to spell out every detail of this high-level party’s history, or restrict their past to only what she decided to allow - she gave them the broad outlines, and let them embellish it. And that made for a much more alive story than any attempt to create it by herself would have - but I think it takes a lot of courage to let your players have that agency. Most Dungeon Masters (myself included) tend to struggle with being control freaks.

And the plots! Yeah, arc one is built of classic tropes - but she actually uses them, she doesn’t get caught up in subverting everything or laughing at the cliches. And it’s fun! In arc 3, there really isn’t a straight line for the players to follow, either - which makes the game much more interesting and much trickier to run. And her NPCs are fantastic and I will talk about them in the next section.

Above all, though, I think what is really impressive is how Haley balances mechanics, and rules as written, with the narrative and rule of cool - and puts both rules and story in the service of playing a fun game. And the secret to that? She’s the DM, but the DM is a player, and the DM is clearly having fun. Hope Lovejoy mechanically shouldn’t get that spellslot back, but she does, and it’s fun. The changeling merchant in Thymore doesn’t really make some Grand Artistic Narrative better, but wow is it fun. And she never tries to force it one way or the other - the story might be more dramatic if Annie didn’t manage to banish the demon from the vault, but it’s a lot cooler and a lot more fun for the players if Annie gets to be a badass instead - and the rules and the dice say that Annie managed it.

Settings feel like places, NPCs feel like people, and the narrative plot feels like a real villainous plot.

Anyway. I could go on about the various ways in which Whipjack is awesome for quite a while - she’s right, first place in D&D is when your friends laugh and super first place is when they cry - but I’m going to stop here and just. Make another post about it some other time. For now, for the record I hold her opinions about the game in higher esteem than I do several official sourcebooks; that is all.

Characters - Or, Bombyx Mori Is Not an Asshole, And That Matters

Okay, I said I would talk about characters! And I will!

Just a general place to start: the party! All of the first three parties are interesting to me, because they all care about each other. Not even necessarily in a Found Family Trope sort of way, though often that too. But they generally aren’t assholes to each other. The players create characters that actually work together, that are interesting; even when there’s internal divisions like SK-73 v. Sir Mr. Person, they aren’t just unpleasant and antagonistic all the time. Listening to the podcast, we’re “with” these people for a couple hours - and it isn’t unpleasant. That matters a lot. (To take a counter-example: I love Critical Role, but the episode when Vox Machina pranked Scanlan after he died and was resurrected wasn’t fun to listen to, it was just uncomfortable and angering and vaguely cruel).

All of the PCs are amazing, and the players in each arc did a great job. If you disagree with me about that, well, you have the right to be incorrect and I am sorry for your loss. Annie Wintersummer, for one example: tragic and sad and I want to give her a hug, but also Fuck Yeah Wintersummer, and also her familiar Charles the Owl is the cutest and funniest and I love him. And we understand what’s going on with Annie, she isn’t some infinite pool of hidden depths because this arc is 7 episodes and we don’t have time for that, but she also has enough complexity to be interesting. Same with Fey Moss: yeah, a lot of her is a silly pun about fame that carries into how she behaves, but a lot of how she behaves is also down to some good classic half-elven angst about parenthood and wanting to be known and seen and important. (Side note: if your half-elf character doesn’t have angst, well, that’s impressive and also I don’t think I believe you).

There are multiple lesbian cat-people in a 4-person party and they both have requited romantic interests who aren’t each other. This is the future liberals want and I am glad for it.

Sir Mister Person, the human fighter! Thavius, the edge lord! Even when a character is “simple,” they’re interesting, because of how they’re played as people and not action-figures. And that matters a lot.

In the same way: the NPCs. There really aren’t a lot of them! And some of them come from Patreon submissions, so uh good work gang, you’re part of the awesomeness and I’m proud of you! The point being, the NPCs work because enough of them are interesting to matter. It’s not just a servant who opens Count Michael’s door, it’s a character with a name (Oleandra!) and a personality and history. They’re interesting. Penny Lovejoy didn’t need to be interesting, the merchant outside the Laughing Mausoleum didn’t need to be interesting, but they ARE! And Haley and Gus EXCEL at making the NPCs matter, not just to the story but to us as viewers. I agree with Sir Mister Person, actually, I would die for the princesses of the kingdom. I actually care about Gem Lovejoy of all people - that wouldn’t happen in an ordinary campaign! That’s the thing that makes Unprepared Casters spectacular - and, frankly, it’s especially impressive because D&D does not tend to be good at making a lot of interesting compared to a lot of other sorts of stories.

And, just as an exemplar of all this: Bombyx Mori. Immortal, reincarnating(?), and described as the incarnation of the player’s ADHD. I expected to hate Bombyx, because as the mom friend both in and out of my friend-group’s campaigns, the chaos-causer is always exhausting to me. And yeah, Bombyx causes problems on purpose! But! She is not an asshole.

And that’s important. Bombyx goes and sits with the queen and comforts her. Bombyx gives Annie emotional support. Bombyx isn’t just a vehicle to jerk around the DM and other players; Bombyx really is a character we can care about. To compare with another case - in the first couple episodes of The Adventure Zone, the PCs are just dicks. Funny, but dicks. Bombyx holds out an arm “covered in larva” to shake with a count, and robs him of magical items, but she also cares about her friends and other people! She uses a powerful magical gem to save her fertilizer guy from death! Yeah, Bombyx is ridiculous, but she’s not just an asshole the party has to keep around for plot reasons; you can see why her party would keep her around. And one layer of meta up, she’s the perfect example of how to make a chaotic character like that while still being fun for everyone you’re playing with, which is often not the case. And I love her.

The Anti-Mercer Effect - Or, “I think we proved it can be fun, you can have a good time with your friends. And it doesn’t have to be scary, you can just work with what you know”

The Mercer Effect basically constitutes this: Matthew Mercer, Dungeon Master of Critical Role, is incredible (as are all of his players). They’re all professional story-tellers in a way, remember, and so Critical Role treats D&D like a narrative art-form, and it’s inspiring. Seeing that on Critical Role sets impossible standards - and people go into their own home games imagining that their campaigns will be like Critical Role, and the burden of that expectation tends to fall disproportionately on the DM. And the end result, I think, of the Mercer Effect is that we get discouraged or intimidated, because our game isn’t “as good as” theirs. (And I should note - Matt certainly doesn’t want that to be our reaction).

So the Anti-Mercer Effect is two things: it’s D&D treated like a game, and it’s inspiring but not intimidating. And Unprepared Casters manages both of those really freaking well. Because they play it like a game! A UC arc looks just like a good campaign in anyone’s home game. They have the vibes of 20-somethings and college students playing D&D for fun because that’s who they are (as a 20-something college student who plays a lot of D&D, watching it felt like watching my friends play an especially good campaign). They’re trying to tell a good story, sure, and they always do. But first and foremost, they’re trying to have fun, and it shows, and I love the UC cast for it.

And that’s the other half of it: it’s inspiring! It’s approachable; you can see that Haley and Gus put plenty of work into preparing the game but it also doesn’t make you feel like you need hundreds of pages of worldbuilding to run a game. Sometimes a cleric makes Haley cry and she gives them back a spell-slot from their deity! That’s fantastic! It’s just inspiring - listening to this over the summer, when my last campaign had fallen apart under the strain of graduation, is why I decided to plan and run my new one!

That quote from Haley Whipjack that I used as the title for this section? That’s the whole core of this idea, and really, I think, the core of the podcast.

The Mercer Effect is when you go “that’s really cool, I could never do that.” But Unprepared Casters makes you look at D&D and go “wow, that looks really fun. I bet I can do that!” And I love the show for it.

And I bet a lot of you do too.

[felassan]

Dragon Age development insights from David Gaider - PART 1

This information came from DG on a recent SummerfallStudios Twitch stream where he gave developer commentary while Liam Esler played DAO, specifically the mage Origin. I transcribed it in case there’s anyone who can’t watch the stream (for example due to connection/tech limitations, data, time constraints, or personal accessibility reasons). A lot of it is centered on DAO, but there’s also insights into DA2 and DAI. Some of it is info which is known having been out there already, some of it is new, and all of it imo was really interesting! It leaps from topic to topic as it’s a transcript of a conversational format. It’s under a cut due to length.

Note on how future streams in this series are going to work: The streams are going to be every Friday night. Most likely, every week, they’re going to play DAO. Every second week it will be Liam and DG and they’ll be doing more of this developer commentary style/way of doing things, talking about how the game was made as they play through, covering quirks and quibbles etc. Every other week, it will be Liam and a guest playing a different campaign in DAO, and Liam will be talking with them about how DA changed their lives or led them into game development, to get other peoples’ thoughts on the series (as it’s now been like 10 years). Some of these guests we may know, some we won’t. When other DA devs are brought on, it’ll be in the DG sessions. They hope to have PW and Karin Weekes on at some point. Sometime they hope to have an episode where they spend the whole time going through the lore.

(Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6)

[wording and opinions DG’s, occasionally LE’s; paraphrased]

DAO’s development actually finished up around April 2009. They then put it on ice for around six months before release. Human Noble is DG’s favorite Origin. It’s one of the ones he wrote. He also wrote the Dalish Origin as well (Tamlen is his doing ;__;). DAO’s temp name during development was Chronicles. DG has never played any of the DA games after they were released. He played them pre-release loads of times, when they were half-broken or incomplete etc. This stream is his first time seeing everything played after completion.

NWN: Hordes of the Underdark was the first game where DG was a/the lead writer, in charge of other writers, as opposed to a senior writer. It was pretty well-received. In the fall of 2003, BW were just finishing up HotU when James Ohlen came to DG to talk. BW had been having issues during the development of NWN with the IP holder for D&D Wizards of the Coast, so they were interested in starting their own IPs that they would have ownership over (and also for financial reasons). JO said to DG that one of these new IPs would be fantasy and one would be sci-fi. He knew that DG was more fantasy-oriented, and so asked DG if he wanted to take this on. DG was down, and the first thing to figure out was what that fantasy IP was going to be.

JO gave DG an atlas of European history, which he still has, and said that he wanted him to make a fantasy world that is reminiscent of medieval Europe and reminiscent of D&D - “make it like D&D but not, file off the serial numbers really well”. This worked for DG because he was pretty familiar with D&D and there were also lots of things that he didn’t like about it and wanted to change. So DG went off and for the next six months worked on creating a setting, beginning with documentation and the map. This was kinda strange because they had no idea at that time what their story would be. JO was very interested in having a “genetically evil” enemy in the setting (like an equivalent to orcs). DG wasn’t a big fan of this and his initial go at the setting omitted this (i.e. darkspawn were not a thing) and was a lot more realistic. JO insisted on adding them later on.

This period of development wasn’t actually a good process. There were other people who were working on the project who were designing the combat side. Looking back, DG feels that they should have put their heads together a lot sooner. The combat designers had various ideas for various prestige classes and subclasses, and DG would be like “these are nowhere in the setting [lore]”. He tried his best to add a few of them after the fact, which is why we see things like DA’s version of the bard archetype. The combat designers and artists originally had a vision in mind of a game that was much more along the lines of the type of fantasy you’d find in the Conan the Barbarian world - bare-chested barbarians, sorceresses that show a lot of skin, a grimdark world with barbarian hordes. They were just assuming that’s what it was going to be. At this point in time DG had never thought, “Oh, maybe I’m responsible for communicating my ideas to them” - he’d never done this role before and was just told to go create the world. He created world-building documentation and would send out emails saying “I’m making this documentation, please go ahead and take a look”, not learning until later on that nobody outside of the writing team really likes reading such documentation. He learned tricks later on like making the docs more accessible, less dense and wordy, and overall easier to peruse.

There was no real ‘vision holder’ for DA. Mass Effect did a much better job of that. Casey Hudson was the project director and the vision holder for ME, and he had the power to enforce a set vision of what was and was not ME. ME therefore ended up having a bit more of a coherent vision. DG was in essence the vision holder for DA, but he didn’t really have the authority to enforce it on the artists. The DA teams ended up spending a good 3.5 - 4 years of the ~6 years of DAO dev time going in circles, not exactly sure what they were going to make, the various people working on it having different ideas of what ‘kind’ of fantasy they were going to make. The writing team were leaning towards LoTR; the artists were leaning towards Conan; at one point one of the project directors was leaning towards a point-and-click Diablo-style action adventure; and nobody was overriding anybody else.

The fans who hang out on the forums and in similar places have a very different idea about what kind of game they like and want to play versus the telemetry BW get from the public in general. As an example, fans on the forums tend towards playing non-humans and feeling that playing as a human is boring. Forum-polls reflected that, but BW’s general public-telemetry shows that around 75-80% of the playerbase played a human in DAO. Elves were at 15% and dwarves 5%. In contrast, in the core/forum-based fanbase, the human figure dropped down to 30%.

DG originally wanted Zevran to be a gay romance (he has talked about this before). He asked JO if he could do that pretty early on, thinking of Jade Empire which had same-gender romance options which were really popular. BW were surprised about that, and DG had no idea that the JE team were going to do this. For DAO, he had an idea for an assassin character. He had been reading about how the CIA and KGB would often recruit gay men to be their assassins, as they didn’t tend to have family ties. DG thought this was really interesting. JO was cool with the idea on a conceptual level, but thought that the work that would end up going into it would be better served if those characters could be romanced by both male and female PCs. Zevran and Leliana weren’t intended to be bi, they were “bi out of convenience”, but at the time these sorts of things (representation and such) didn’t enter into the equation as much as it does today. DG wrote Zevran in his head as being romanceable by men.

DG would ask the hair artists, “Why all the mullets?”, because he never understood that, and he’d get “a sort of shrug response”, and an indication that “it’s easier to model, I guess?” Having hair which is loose, in the face, in locks, coming over the shoulders etc wasn’t really supported at this point by the tech or the engine. Hence, they ended up with like five different versions of mullets. On the subject of the engine, for the first half of development they were using an upgraded version of the Aurora engine from NWN, and it was not good. Several years in they decided to switch. Trent Oster was in charge at the time of making a new proprietary BW engine. At the time it wasn’t ready yet, but the DA team decided to grab it, use it and hammer it into the DA engine. That engine had “so many little weird quirks”, like lighting on skin not working properly and looking bad, and one of the issues was hair. It was supposed to be BW’s proprietary engine but it really wasn’t optimized for RPGs and didn’t include a dialogue system. They had to custom-build the conversation system. (At the time Trent didn’t think BW should be doing RPGs anymore, which is a whole other story of its own). DG recalls programmers complaining about things in the engine that weren’t ready for ‘prime-time’. Even compared to games released concurrently, DAO’s graphics were a bit dated.

For the worldbuilding, they had an internal wiki and they kept everything on there. They ended up with a lot of legacy documentation on there very quickly. Eventually they solved this by hiring an editor whose sole job it was to wrangle the documentation. DG started work on the setting in the same manner in which he’d embark on starting a homebrew - ‘so like, first, here’s a map, oh, I like this name, vague ideas, a paragraph on each major nation, a rough timeline of the history, expanding, and it just growing from there’. After about six months, they brought on other writers, and by then he had around 50 pages of documentation. This 50 pages was a minute amount compared to the amount they had generated at the time of release. Originally, they weren’t sure where in the world specifically the story would take place, so DG made sure to seed potential and brewing conflicts throughout Thedas. They settled quite quickly on the new Blight starting in Ferelden. Once they established that, the writers went to town on taking Ferelden specifically and blowing it up detail-wise. Jennifer Hepler was in charge of the dwarves and Orzammar. Mary Kirby was on Fereldan customs and traditions.

The first version of the setting was more grounded in realism, almost like a post-fantasy. The dragons and griffons were extinct and a lot of the things that were thought to be fantastical were thought to be over with. During development, they started clawing these things back. They brought back dragons because the game was named Dragon Age (lol). DG was approached like, “Hey, we named the game DA, can you bring back dragons and weave them into the story more powerfully?” Wynne’s writer Sheryl Chee had a bit of an obsession with griffons and was often like ‘omg, griffons :D’, and this is the origin of Wynne’s dialogue with the Warden about griffons.

KotOR was the first time BW had tried to do a game that was fully voiced-over. For KotOR, BW sent the work of casting, direction and so on down to another studio in California called Technicolor. BW had little say in the process then and when they got it back, “it was what it was”. By the time they got to DA and the first ME, BW had a good system down for recording and VO had become an important thing in games at the time. BW are really one of the premieres for this, a lot of actors really like acting on BW games as they get a lot of space to act where they wouldn’t normally be able to do so otherwise. DG has learned a lot from Caroline Livingstone on how to encourage the best performance out of an actor. For DAO, DG worked together with the various lead designers and Caroline to decide on the auditions, casting etc. This was one of DG’s favorite things to do.

Gideon Emery as Fenris, GDL as Solas and Eve Myles as Merrill were times where DG had written the character and then went to Caroline and said “I have an actor in mind for them, can you check it out?” These were specific times where he was able to secure the actor he wanted. This didn’t always work out, for example there are times when actors aren’t interested or have no time due to scheduling conflicts or were too expensive etc. Eve and GDL were DG’s roommate Cori’s idea. Cori was a big fan of Torchwood/the actors from Torchwood, and worked as an editor at BW for a long time. Gideon was DG’s idea after playing FF12. For DAO, DG didn’t have any specific ideas in terms of actors. Casting Morrigan was the longest, most drawn out process.

The Circle went through a whooole process during worldbuilding. Initially, mages in the game weren’t supposed to have any “fighting magic”. The restrictions were originally such that in the lore, they didn’t teach mages that. Mages weren’t taught any magic that could kill people, only ‘indirect’ forms of magic that could support others. However, [during what sounds like] playtesting it was asked “Why can’t I cast a fireball? I just want to cast a fireball”, so the writers had to go back and rework how magic in the lore worked completely.

Flemeth was originally going to be voiced by Shohreh Aghdashloo, and she was totally on-board, but unfortunately because of DAO’s development delays, she was unable to attend the new recording time as she had a conflict in her schedule (she was filming House of Sand and Fog). Shoreh was quite disappointed about this and her family had been so excited that she was going to be in a video game. When the movie was finished, Shoreh came back to BW and let them know that she was still available, and this is how she ended up in ME2. For a while they were trying to find an actress with an accent that authentically mirrored Shoreh’s. Out of the blue around this time, Claudia Black’s agent sent BW an audition tape of her. At the time Claudia hadn’t done any games but wanted to get into it. The tape was of Claudia doing a beat poet rendition of Baby Got Back. DG still has this tape. DG was a big fan of Farscape and on listening to the tape, it clicked right away in his head that Claudia would be perfect for Morrigan.

The Fade ended up being a big irritation for the writers. They wanted the PC to be able to assume different forms and such while in there. A lot of this stuff proved too difficult for the combat designers to work out, and so it ended up getting changed a lot. They had a hard time coming up with gameplay that could work in the Fade. The mage Origin is DG’s least favorite of the Origin stories, as he’s really dubious about the Fade section in it. It didn’t work out like how they had pictured it in their heads. By the time they got to DAI, that’s when the Fade really looks like how the writers first described/envisioned it. By this point the artists were more keen to give it a more specific feel. DAO was made at a time when ‘brown is realistic’ was a prevailing thing in games dev.

The experience of a mage in the world isn’t represented or conveyed very well to the player when the player is a mage. The experience of the player when they’re playing a mage or have a mage in their party doesn’t really match up with how the world lore tells them how dangerous mages can be - for example, how they can lose control and so on, we never really have an example of a PC mage struggling with being taken over by a demon. This was originally supposed to be a subplot in DA2 for mage Hawkes, in one of the last cuts. In Act 2, mage Hawke was originally slowly being tricked by a demon in their head that they thought was real, only to realize at the last minute. Mouse the Pride demon in the mage Origin is the only time in the entire series that they really ever properly demonstrated how demons can fuck with [PC] mages. Also, PC templars were originally supposed to have a permanent lyrium addiction that they needed to ‘feed’, but this was scrapped as the system designers weren’t keen on it and felt that it was essentially handicapping the player. 

Mages were originally also not supposed to be able to deal with pure lyrium (it would ‘overload’ them). There is a plot where mage PCs run around touching lyrium nodes to refill their mana bars. On this DG was like “Wtf is this?” The designers said that it works, and DG said “but it flies in the face of the lore”. This instance is an example of how the DA team was working where the various departments (writers, artists, designers etc) all had their own ideas about how the game and its world would work and never overrode each other (see above). DG feels that DAO is a little contradictory in that way. It’s only after the game came out that a lot of the people on the team really “bought into” what they’d put forward. This got easier as they went on, with people involved buying then into the things that make Dragon Age, Dragon Age. At one point, not everyone on the team was even aware of those things.

DG relates that originally, they would ask the artists, “Ok, can we get a village?” and said village once created would be quite generic and non-specific to DA. The writers would try to relate how things are in the DA world and list things that would be found in a village like this specific to the DA world, and the artists either didn’t read it or had their own ideas (DG isn’t sure which), and nobody was around to tell them not to do that and that they should do it differently. Everyone having their own ideas like this is why we ended up getting something that is this sort of “cobbled together half-Conan half-LotR mish-mash”, and after a while this sort of became DA’s “thing”.

Initially, BW had concepts drawn up for a lot more different creatures. After they went in circles for those years and consequently ran out of time to do all the models, they had to cut these concepts down more and more. Demons were among the ones that were the first to go (this is why we have situations like a bereskarn as the Sloth Demon in the mage Origin). The original concepts for things like spirits of Valor and Sloth demons were really good. Early on, JO made a list of D&D creatures that he liked. He picked the ones that they were thinking of doing, sent them to DG and said to make a “DA version of this”. For example, D&D succubi essentially became Desire Demons. Desire Demons were originally patterned off Sandman, neither male nor female yet really alluring, acting more like a genie and trying to ferret out mortals’ inner desires (which are not necessarily sexual in nature), without being overtly sexual. The artists’ version came back and that was basically the model seen in-game. The writers were like “What is this, this is nothing like the description?” and the artists responded that on the list from JO, it was included, in that you had to click on “succubus” to get to the Desire Demon description, so they had just read “succubus” and done their version of a succubus. The artists did loads of great work, but this was one of the instances were DG was like “???” By then, it was too late to change it. The writers were able to encourage them to make Desire Demons a little more fearsome, so that made it in at least.

The mage Origin was one of the more contentious Origin stories. It had like 4 different versions written of it over time. It was often the case that BW would hire someone, and writing an Origin story was their first test. Three different writers came in and wrote a version of the mage Origin and those versions just didn’t work. Finally they passed it to Sheryl Chee and she wrote it. The Origins were the parts of the game in general that were written/rewritten the most often. There were several others that got written that they discarded. 

Duncan was slated for death from Day 1. When DG writes a story, the thing he does first is pick out the big emotional beats that he wants, such as deaths. He decides these ahead of time and the stuff in-between comes later and is more often changed. Oghren was also originally supposed to die, but this ended up getting cut. DG related a story of how Oghren came to be: At the time, there was a phase JO went through when he thought everything had a formula that it could be done by. One of these ‘creative forumulas’ was that all such IPs had a two-word name that they’re known by, such as Star Wars, Star Trek, Dragonlance (being Dragon-Lance). This is how ‘DA’ and ‘ME’ came to be. One of the formulas he wanted to implement was how to distill the ‘comedy character’, like Minsc or HK-47. These characters were very popular with the fans and JO was certain that there was a way to figure this out to create one for DA. At the time, DG argued with him a lot about this. JO insisted it could be done. DG was originally supposed to write this character but ended up not doing so. JO came up with a list of comedic archetypes and had DG write a blurb about what kind of character each could be. These were then sent out to the team who voted on which was their favorite. This process eventually resulted in an archetype basically called ‘The Buffoon’ (think Homer Simpson or Peter Griffin, the kind of guy people laugh at because he’s such an oaf).

At this point ‘The Buffoon’ wasn’t named or made a dwarf yet. JO came to DG to write him, but DG said there was a problem which is that he hates this archetype. Homer and Peter are characters that he despises. DG is a professional writer, but this was comedy (outside of his areas of strength), and he felt the best he would be able to do is write a character who makes fun of this archetype and lampshade that. Comedy is something that has to come from within the writer. Oghren was given to someone else, and he ended up getting rewritten again anyway. By the time they were working on Awakening, DAO had not yet come out, and the assumption prior to the game going out was that Oghren was still going to be the most popular character from among the followers. The comedic character that ended up being the most popular along these lines was Alistair, which was interesting as he wasn’t intended as a comedic character, “so shows what we know”. DG was dubious that Oghren was going to be popular, because “he was kind of pathetic, honestly”, but that was the thinking at the time. Thinking he would be well-loved is why he was in Awakening.

On Alistair, any character DG writes is going to be sarcastic. At the time DG had made it a sort of personal challenge to recreate Joss Whedon’s dialogue patterns in his characters. Alistair was a sort of mish-mash of Xander from Buffy and maybe Mal from Firefly. DG wanted to see if he could do it, so Alistair was kind of quippy and self-deprecating. DG never really considered this to be Alistair’s main personality feature, but when other writers wrote him, they often had him doing this, as they liked the trait so much, and so this is how Alistair ended up as he did.

On dwarves, the dwarves being cut off from the Fade is very much baked into who the dwarves are as a race. There’s a specific reason why. This has been hinted at so far and it’s likely to come up in the future. DG had various ideas for some things that he wanted to include with the races or the way the world works etc. Some of them ended up never happening or some are mentioned only as part of the lore (templar lyrium addiction never coming up in gameplay is an example of this). Dwarven history and the nature of the dwarves is one of the things that survived pretty well though. DG calls Jennifer Hepler “mistress of the dwarves” and says that she did a really detailed, amazing breakdown of their history. After Jennifer left it was Mary Kirby, and DG feels that they did a good job of maintaining how dwarves were, in terms of both how they’re often presented in fantasy and yet also quite different in DA. Orzammar is one of DG’s favorite plots all together. You can really tell that Jennifer Hepler really enjoyed the dwarves and brought a lot of love to that plot.

DG draws a distinction between DA fans and the unpleasant people who harassed Jennifer Hepler.

They managed to keep the Tranquil in. There was a while there where they were going to be cut. At the same time, DG regrets that they couldn’t solve the making of the player more aware of how mages are dangerous, thing. Players could make a cogent argument like “they’re not that dangerous, look at me [mage PC]” and the writers were like “well... yeah, that is fair”. It was a case of showing one thing and the player experience of it being another. DG feels that this made the templars come off worse than they are. DG feels that they are being massively unfair and too extreme in their approach to the problem, but the problem itself is a real thing. He feels that there’s some merit/truth in the argument that mages are oppressed, but he looks at it more like an issue like gun control rather than as treatment of oppressed people, saying that we don’t have an example in real life of oppressed people who can explode into demons and cast fireballs and so on.

There are some funny pronunciations that worked their way into DA, and the reason for a lot of them is as follows: the writers had to create a pronunciation guide for VO, because otherwise you end up with a lot of inconsistencies. (Some did still slip through). The guide was online, and if you clicked on a word, an audio file for it would play. Jennifer Hepler was in charge of this and did a great job, but has a really strong NY accent, and in some cases the ‘NY-ness’ of her pronunciation endearingly worked itself into things (the way Arlathan is sometimes said is an example of where this happened sometimes).

Sometimes the writers trying to communicate the “hotness” of a character to the artists didn’t go smoothly. The writers would sometimes say things like, ok, this character is a romance, they need to be hot, and the designs would come back looking “like Burt Reynolds”, and the writers would be like “???” And then a character that wasn’t particularly intended to be hot, as in that wasn’t mentioned at all in the descriptions of them, would come back “accidentally hot”, and the writers would be like “Why couldn’t you have done this when we were asking for a character that was meant to be hot”, and the artists would be like “What?? He’s not hot”. And this became a thing (lmao - this discussion was prompted by DG being asked “Was Duncan meant to be that hot?”, for context). Some of the artists were so paranoid about their [in]ability to judge actually-hot characters that when it was time to pick an appearance, like for Alistair, they gathered up all the women at BioWare, and DG (“resident gay”) into a room to show them an array of faces and bodies like “Is this hot? Is this hot?” DG and co would sit there like, “How can you not tell? Is this a straight man thing?!” Anyways, this is why oftentimes we ended up with characters who are accidentally hot.

Over time, the writers realized that the way they communicated to artists needed to be managed better. The words they would use would have different connotations to them the writers, than what they did to the artists. For example, for Anders’ design in DA2, he was supposed to be “a little haggard”. When DG thinks of haggard, he thinks ‘a little tired, mussed hair, looking like you’ve been through some shit’. But the artists based on that produced concepts with super sunken cheeks, looking like he’d been terribly starved. The writers needed to develop a specific vocabulary for communicating with the artists, as artists think in terms of how something looks, but writers are thinking in terms of what the character “is”. Anders’ description talked about his history a lot, and the one visual-type word that jumped out was “haggard” due to its visual connotations. “A lot it came down to the writers being up their/our own asses.”

When they got to DAI, they had figured out that the way to get best results on this front was /not/ to have the writer go off and develop a long description and pre-conceived notion of what the character looked like in their head. In such scenarios artists don’t feel that they have much to contribute to the process or an ability to put their own stamp on who this character is and make them interesting to them (the best, most interesting characters are when people at all stages of the pipeline properly get to feed into it). They learned that the better solution was to bring the artists in earlier, and to give them little blurbs, and not name the character but give them an ‘archetype’-sort of ‘name’. For example, Dorian was “the rockstar mage”, “cool”, “Freddie Mercury”. The writers wouldn’t be sure that a particular concept would ‘hit’, so at this stage they would offer an array of options and sit the artist down and walk them through the concepts. The artists would then provide a bunch of sketches and it would go back and forth, with both taking part in the character creation process together. For the first two games, the writers were “really hogging” this process to themselves. They got better at not doing this and better at communicating with the artists by DAI.

There were a lot of arguments about how mages in DAO had a lot of specific lore words like “Harrowing”, “phylactery”, “Rite of Tranquility” etc. There was concern that this would be too confusing for players to understand and that it was too complicated. DG says that thankfully he put his foot down and pushed for this stuff to be kept. A lot of fans assume that as lead writer DG had all this influence, way more influence than he could possibly exert on a team. He wasn’t even a lead, he was a sub-lead, under a lead designer. He only had so much say. If the lead designer or lead artist wanted to do something differently, often there was not much he could do. Hence he had to pick his battles carefully, choose the important ones to fight. The mage vocabulary thing was one of these.

Templar Greagoir’s name is pronounced “Gregor” and it comes from a place in Alberta near where DG lived.

Codex entries are usually one of the last things that get done in a project like this, and so all of that kind of textual lore comes in super late and is super punchy as by then the writers have written so much and are exhausted. They had to find a way to make this process cute or interesting or fun for themselves, which is why a lot of entries are quite fun to read. Sometimes a writer would make a joke for banter [irl], and it would end up making it into an entry.

Only Morrigan and Duncan got unique body models in DAO. The companions all have custom-morphed heads but not custom-morphed bodies (Morrigan not included here). This is why every model has a necklace or a collar right at the point where they had to be attached to be a body. These sometimes used assets that couldn’t be used by the PC but were not unique to that character. Duncan probably got a unique model because he was in a lot of marketing/promotional material. Qunari were originally conceived as having horns.

Most people didn’t even finish DAO once (public telemetry again here), only approximately 20-25% actually did. The devs try not to read too much into this kind of thing, but the telemetry does tell them where a lot of people stop playing the game permanently (they call these “drop-off points”). One of these points in DAO is the Fade during Broken Circle. Sometimes when people interpret this data they involve self-serving biases, but it was generally accepted that the Fade there was too long, too complex, not interesting enough, etc. [source]

[Part 2]

[Part 3]

[Part 4]

[Part 5]

[Part 6]

[‘Insights into DA dev from the Gamers For Groceries stream’ transcript]

[wangxianficrecs]

Follower Recs

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Hi! First of all, thank you so much for running this blog, It's become one of three reasons why I haven't yet committed arson (I jest but the Feeling is true). [Hee, hee, hee.] I have a rec for you! It's called "wholesome life usurp immediately" by comfect on ao3 and it's. So good. It's unfinished but the author updates it literally every other day if not faster! It's a lovely fic, I hope you enjoy it. 🌻

Wholesome Life Usurp Immediately

by Comfect (T, 55k, yunmeng sibs, qingli, wangxian, WIP)

Summary: Wen Qing examines Jiang Yanli at Cloud Recesses and has a cure for her poor cultivation.

Now there are Three Prides of Yunmeng.

Everything kind of fixes itself from there.

~*~

hello mojo!! I would really like to recommend standing still (but we keep going) by lwjromantics!! it's really good!!

standing still (but we keep going)

by lwjromantics (justfantaestic) (T, 5k, wangxian)

Summary: Lan Wangji supposed that if having to take care of little A-Yuan and Mo Xuanyu and having to look at the reminders of Wei Ying in their habits and mannerisms was punishment for his actions, he would willingly take it and flay his own back open.

— There are children in the Burial Mounds.

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hii mojo! I just read this cute fic and I loved it so I wanted to rec it :) 

Word Up, Talk the Talk

by Larryissocute (G, 2k, wangxian)

Summary:  It wouldn’t have been a problem (it really wouldn’t) if they weren’t best friends. Wei Wuxian doesn’t know what good deeds he did in his past life to be blessed with Lan Wangji as a friend nor does he know what evil things he did to be cursed with being only a friend to Lan Wangji.

Or the one where Wei Wuxian kisses Lan Wangji and then runs away.

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Hey! Love your account — and proud of you for taking the hiatus you needed.  [Lol - it was really nice!]  Idk if you take fic recommendations, but I'd love to rec Roots by ardenrabbit. Fantastic characterization, I really love it!

Roots

by ardenrabbit (E, 46k, wangxian, WIP)

Summary:  After Wei Wuxian's duel with Jiang Cheng, he finds that stab wounds aren't so trivial when he doesn't have a core to heal them. He wakes to find Lan Zhan in the Burial Mounds with him, already beloved by the Wens and making himself at home. When Lan Zhan tells him that he wants to stay and offers more help than Wei Wuxian knows how to accept, he fears that it's only too good to be true.

Lan Wangji knows that Wei Ying is doing the right thing, and he couldn't live with himself if he let him do it alone. For everything Wei Ying has sacrificed, Lan Wangji is determined to give something back to him.

Hanguang-Jun has turned his back on the clans to join the Yiling Wens and their demonic cultivator leader, and every clan has a different opinion on the matter.

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Hello! I wanted to rec a fic on ao3 called "Restoration" by jelenedra. It's complete, an alternate universe of the sunshot campaign told nonlinearly. It has strong fairy tale and fae elements, with a touch of mystery. Bit of a fix it. Some delightful one liners, and the final ending imagery is just LOVELY. The fic deserves much more love. There's also some YilingWei, wwx not raised by Jiang, and sentient Burial Mounds elements. Enchanting read that keeps you enthralled and curious and intrigued.

Restoration

by jelenedra (M, 85k, wangxian)

Summary:  They say he was thrown into Luanzang Gang by the man who killed his parents; they say that he is an immortal cultivator who had been in a deep trance until the Wen sect disturbed his rest and incurred his wrath; they say that he is the fierce corpse of a cultivator who had somehow regained his mind and his spiritual powers.

When Lan Wangji sees him for the first time, he understands why people talk.

Meng Yao wants safety. Xue Yang wants vengeance. The Sunshot Campaign wants victory. Yiling Laozu provides, for a price.

~*~

I usually read all your recommendations. Thanks for gathering all good recs of wangxian. I am in love with every single story your recommend especially the favorites. [I’m so glad!]  I just wanted to suggest a fic i came across while searching for phoenix!wwx. Its a new story I think as author has published it today. The first chapter was very interesting that i thought ill recommend it you and know your opinion. The legendary phoenix and his dragon -Devipriya and Hidden Path to Love by ShadowTenshiV

Hidden Path to Love

by ShadowTenshiV (G, 78k, wangxian)

Summary:  Wei Ying is a servant working at the Gusu Lan castle. One day he enters through a secret passage way connected to the library where he meets a Lan for the first time. He may have left quite an impression, gaining the other´s attention and slowly becoming friends. They would like to become something more, but a servant can´t be with a prince, but maybe his secret can change that.

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hello mojo! i was wondering if I could make a fic rec? it’s called “and the calm is deep where the quiet waters flow” by izanyas. it used to be on ao3 but the author has since moved it to eir own website and has started posting updates there. i was wondering if this could also act as a signal boost bc some old readers on ao3 might not have known that it is now on another website.   Author's been through a tough time so I think it deserves a lot more love.

For new readers, please mind the warnings in the prologue and the beginning of each chapter! it’s omegaverse and a very heavy read as it deals with (possible spoiler) off-screen rape that results in an unwanted pregnancy, as well as secondary gender oppression which runs deep, but for people who can bear it the writing, worldbuilding, and emotions are truly spectacular.

and the calm is deep where the quiet waters flow

by izanyas (E, 270k, wangxian, WIP, link is to WordPress rather than AO3)

Summary: Cangse Sanren was the first of her kind to become a cultivator. Talented, passionate, free-spirited, she bested everything that ever came her way until the very end.

Jiang Fengmian refuses to see her son deprived of that same freedom.

~*~

Hello Mojo! I dunno if this's been recced before, but here's another ficrec for you? It's complete, on ao3, "The Third Young Master of Qishan Wen" by KouriArashi. It's 'if wwx was raised by dafan wen, but gets recognized as 3rd heir due to his skill' scenario. Some really nice banter and characterization. Wwx and lz get together before the sunshot campaign. Story follows the live action but diverges into au, and does some cool callbacks to original canon. Love Meng Yao in this!  [Oh, I know KouriArashi from my last fandom, I love her works!]

❤️The Third Young Master of the Qishan Wen

by KouriArashi (T, 139k, wangxian, my post)

Summary:  The fic where Wei Wuxian is adopted by the Dafan Mountain Wens instead of the Yunmeng Jiang.

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Hi Mojo! I can count the number of times I’ve spoken on Tumblr on one hand (I’m shy heh) but I found this fic that I think you and others would really like? I’m a sucker for emotional hurt/comfort and this was just too sweet for me not to share (did I go through 20 pages of bookmarks just to make sure you don’t already have it? Maybe …) [Aww, you can do a sidebar search in the bookmarks for the author’s name.  But I hope you found other good fics by carding through the whole catalog!]  It’s “Close Your Soft Eyes” by timetoboldlygo! I also wanna say thank you for all the hard work you put into this blog! It’s a treasure beyond compare. :D [Thank you so much!]

Close Your Soft Eyes

by timetoboldlygo (G, 12k, wangxian)

Summary:  When Lan Wangji woke, the first thing he noticed was the slip of paper, folded and tucked between his index and middle fingers, not Wei Wuxian’s absence. His fingers trembled as he unfurled the paper. A donkey with a little smile beamed down at him.

-

On the nights that Wei Wuxian was gone, Lan Wangji woke to gifts on his pillow.

~*~

Hey Mojo! I love your blog it is beyond awesome! [Thank you!]  I was wondering if you would consider reading JaenysBloodcourt series "A Bond to Takes us home"? The summary is weird but I like the fics and would love to hear your opinion on LWJ POV (it's part 2). Part one is Mingxian but part two (Wangxian) reads as a standalone for the most part. Anyways, thank you for all your hard work! <3 [I’ll put it on my list!]

A Bond to Take Us Home

by JaenysBloodcourt (T, 10k, mingxian - nmj/wwx, wangxian, series in progress)

Summary:  Wei Wuxian has two soulmarks. He has two soulmates that seem to be the opposite of him. During his first life he meets both of them, loves only one and longs for the other. In his second life, the one he loved first is dead, and the one he pined after is pining after him.

These are the many tales of his soulmates and the raucous they made across the cultivation world.

Some are dark, some are light. Beware.

~*~

I forgot to send this in for Mother's Day a few weeks ago, but have you read dragongirlG's "into the light of a dark black night"? It's a short canon divergence where Mama Lan escapes the Cloud Recesses after spending one last, heartbreaking night with her sons. It's so beautiful and bittersweet! [Oh, ouch.  I just read this author’s time travelling juniors au, but hadn’t seen this one.]

into the light of a dark black night

by dragongirlG (T, 3k, Madam Lan & sons)

Summary:  The night that Wu Yuhua, formerly known as Madam Lan, plans to escape from the Cloud Recesses, she runs into an unexpected complication.

That complication comes in the form of her younger son A-Zhan running up to her door and kneeling in front of it, hushed whimpers escaping from his throat.

Wu Yuhua knows it's not the full moon, knows that it's not the one day a month she's allowed to see her children—but like hell is she going to leave her six-year-old son out there trying to stifle sobs in the snow.

She opens the door. "A-Zhan," she says, bending down and reaching out a hand. "Come in, my sweet boy."

On a snowy night in the dead of winter, Wu Yuhua, formerly known as Madam Lan, unexpectedly spends one last night with her sons before escaping from the Cloud Recesses.

~*~

Hello queen I’d like to recommend for ur follower rec posts Avatar: The Untamed Waterbender by KouriArashi. Banger of an ATLA au, def the best one I’ve seen. It’s a WIP but the author updates pretty regularly and it’s all around an A+ fic [Oh, yes, I’ve been waiting for this one to finish before I jump in.]

Avatar: The Untamed Waterbender

by KouriArashi (T, 123k, wangxian, WIP)

Summary:  You know the drill. Long ago, the four nations lived in harmony. Then, everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked.

100 years later, Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli find Wei Wuxian sealed in an iceberg.

Featuring: avatar WWX, waterbending JC, firebending Wens, airbending Lans, earthbending Nies and Jins, Jiang Yanli in possession of the brain cell, et cetera.

~*~

[My ko-fi.]

[pomp-and-circumstance]

Fuck. Here we go. Episode 106. The flight. I have so many thoughts about the flight.

(I have a lot of thoughts about things, who am I kidding. Maybe I can wrangle them all together here to make some sense.)

I feel like the first thing is that... I don’t know how much credit Marisha gets for how she’s handled everything, but I’ve heard these rumblings that people felt like this ship came out of nowhere, and while I can see what they’re saying to a degree, I think that statement ultimately belittles Marisha as a player. She’s said she was going to make Beau a fuckboi and sleep her way through the campaign until Ashley introduced Yasha, but the most important detail here has nothing to do with their characters and everything to do with Ashley’s schedule. 

These guys are all friends. They love each other. Marisha isn’t going to require Matt or someone else put words in Ashley’s mouth to RP some kind of romance from the beginning. The biggest thing when RP’ing romance is to have the consent of both parties and who knows? Maybe Ashley would have changed her mind in the middle of being gone? My guess is they probably talked about it and decided to put in some hints, play with the chemistry a little, but not do anything major until Ashley came back. That said, it’s on Marisha to play the subtlety card for several weeks. If you think about it, it’s a clever “does she or doesn’t she” in terms of how Beau feels for Yasha, because what better time to try and settle possible conflicted feelings than when your interest is under mind control and can’t break free? Was she playing us the whole time? What does that mean about my feelings? I can brush those aside if she’s evil... but what if she isn’t?

Bottom line, Marisha isn’t going to try and do something that’s going to make Ashley uncomfortable upon returning, and it really showed in a lot of ways. If you think this ship came out of nowhere, that’s fine, but I think it’s far more a testament to the respect Marisha has for Ashley. After all, listening for thunder can be platonic or romantic. Did things really take off after Ashley came back and Yasha was free from mind control? Hell yeah it did - because there’s no schedule limitations holding them back. Who’s to say this wouldn’t have been how it started? We won’t know.

I won’t stand for Marisha Ray slander on my here Tumblr. She’s exactly the type of person I’d want to play with. I love her friendship with everyone, and I love her patiently and gently guiding Ashley through something she’s stated to be nervous about doing in the first place. The respect cannot be understated.

Now... the flight.

It’s Ashley’s choice when exactly the wings come out, but you gotta have a little fun with everyone at the table too, yanno? Of everyone in the party to take a hit from a falling body and not take a lot of damage, it’s the tank. The flirting hasn’t exactly been subtle, but Beau has the right idea asking Yasha to catch her. (Could she have asked Caleb to do something? Sure, but where’s the fun in that?) Besides, you gotta think Yasha wants a moment to check if those wings are real and see what they can do, and it’s not like she went super high to catch Beau anyway.

But the moment she catches Beau... oh, the moment she catches Beau.

This play-it-cool fuckboi who didn’t think twice about sleeping with Keg and made the immediate first step to grab and kiss Reani is a flustered, babbling, incoherent mess, and that, my friends, is the difference. She could have said any number of cool or suave things Beau has in her arsenal to charm any woman she wants, but Yasha is an actual angel and she has no idea what to do with that. She’s also been able to tell - every time - when someone else is interested in her, but here it’s a moment of stammering and flustered noises, holy shit this woman is so much more than she or I knew and those giddy butterflies you get in your stomach when you realize you like someone and they probably like you back. Beau and Yasha both are reduced to stammering disasters who shared a pivotal moment together that will change them forever.

Which brings me to Yasha. Granted, the wings could have come out at any point - a battle, a moment of privacy, etc - but I think it’s so symbolic that Ashley took that chance to use them to catch Beau the session immediately following Yasha putting her past behind her. She fell in love with Beau in Kamordah, sure, but I feel like this is when Yasha starts believing it’s okay to fall in love again. This is when she lets herself do that. Looking back on it by herself, she probably realized it had been a thing since Kamordah, but there’s a difference between realizing you’re in love and acting on it. Beau has witnessed a handful of moments that have to do with Zuala, including when Yasha pulled the image Caleb made of them to fall asleep to, but those feel far more like Yasha becoming comfortable with letting her go than they are yearning. (Which Beau could easily misinterpret.) If Yasha fell in love in Kamordah, she has to come to terms with her grief and move on, and it shows in her dream where she hears Zuala. It wasn’t an agonizing reunion of regrets and wishes and pondering if things could have been different. “I have to go.” I have to move on. There’s something here, and I have to let you go to find out what it is. I’m in love again. It was the final piece to releasing her past and stepping into her future.

So where are we now? 

Two people who are seeing themselves in a different light, for the first time, together. 

Mutual admiration in full swing, set on a path to something more. 

Ashley’s courage to try something different in D&D. 

Marisha’s delight and guidance into something she’s familiar with. 

A love story with all of it’s twists and turns and yearning, as well as trust and faith and admiration. 

It’s beautiful.

The real MVPs of all this are Laura and Travis, who have got to be the biggest Beauyasha shippers out there, let’s just be real. It’s almost more fun to watch them than anybody else, lol.

[thestraggletag]

Roll for Initiative, a Rumbelle D&D Fic

Summary: Tales of the Enchanted Forest was the hottest online D&D game, in part for its charismatic players, in part for the twisted turns of the DM's mind and in part because of the outrageous chemistry between its greatest OTP, the party's beautiful bard and the Dark One, an anti-hero side-character who is there to provide information and uncomfortable levels of UST. Mr Gold thinks it's a harmless flirtation that could never become anything else, just like his silly little crush on the town librarian, Belle French.

He's wrong.

Rating: Explicit.

Author’s Note: Surprise, @argoslight​, it is I, your Gifter! Sorry to make you wait till near the end but I just had way more banter to write in me than I thought. I hope you enjoy your gift. I’m so sorry to not be able to add more D&D elements but since I don’t play I don’t have a lot of idea of what could be done. Also I apologise for any mistakes! And thanks so much to @little-inkstone for her help and D&D knowledge.

The castle was quiet when she entered, her steps echoing against the stone. It was gloomy inside, curtains obscured and decor sparse and sombre, the castle living up to its name. But there were flowers on the table, moon lilies, her favourite flower. They bloomed only in the Eastern Mountains past the Old Wall, but she had long since suspected he grew some on one of his enchanted hothouses, with the excuse of using them for potions. 

“Where’s the rest of your pretty little troop of do-gooders, dearie?”

The voice came out of nowhere, echoing around the empty halls of the castle. Thankfully she did not need directions, knowing exactly when to turn and where to go. Soon she found herself in a vast room, with a table on the centre and curios filled with oddities and the like. Some others were displayed on pedestals, including a rather fearsome sword and a nasty-looking crown made of thorns. None of the artefacts were what she sought, but she was not there to bargain for an item, but rather for information.

“Off on their own quests, taking care of other things that need doing.”

The voice tsked, seeming not to approve.

“They let you enter the lair of the beast alone? Some heroes.”

The woman lowered the hood of her cloak and walked towards the unlit chimney. Immediately a fire blazed to life, as if the castle itself was trying to cater to her comfort. The fire provided much-needed light as well, revealing the profile of a man in the shadows. Or something that looked like a man, at least, if not for the reflective scales that covered his body and its strange eyes: gold irises around catlike pupils.

“I asked to come alone. I felt like we could talk more openly this way.”

She removed her cloak, ostensibly to drape it across a chair near the fire and let it dry. The creature, however, seemed to read more into the gesture, tsking again.

“You come here all alone, a pretty little lamb, and take off the only real bit of protection you have. Reckless, dearie, most reckless.”

 The creature stood up, walking slowly towards the light, revealing more of its form as it approached her. Leather pants and a long, reptilian-looking vest and coat. It wasn’t particularly tall but power emanated from it in suffocating waves. She closed her eyes, finding his cloying presence strangely comforting. Then again, she had always been odd. 

“Once again your pitiful little party of friends needs my help. How they weigh you down, Beauty.”

He stepped fully into the light then, revealing a being more creature than man, the reptilian skin and claws as off-putting as his unnatural eyes. She should’ve taken a step back, should’ve gone for her blade or the dagger tucked into her left boot, but she didn’t. As much as she knew she shouldn't, she felt at ease in his presence. Well, perhaps not quite. She certainly felt a strange sort of anxiousness in his presence, a fluttery sort of feeling that she attributed to being particularly attuned to his magic. None of the other members of her party felt that way. If anything, he repulsed them, which wasn’t something she could understand. To her he was… magnetic.

“Are you in the mood for dealing or not? I can trade for information.”

He snorted.

“With what? Your little band of misfits is dirt poor. That idiotic paladin of yours ruined your last mission. You really should think about ditching the man. All brawn, no brains. At least your rogue is a smart woman.”

His gaze left her briefly, running down the length of her clothing: sturdy black boots, a nicely-cut dress that stopped around the knees and a sturdy belt with a few pockets for her spells. But the clothing, as well-made as it was, was dated, old. Looked worn and was signed and stained in places, and it left a lot of her frail human skin exposed. She had not been able to afford an upgrade in a while, preferring to spend her coin in what could benefit the group.

His moue of distaste disappeared once his eyes fell on her cloak. Well, his cloak, since he had been the one to make it. It was a lovely thing in varied shades of green, shot through with golden thread, his trademark. She had bought it off him a long time ago, a simple thing to keep her warm during cold nights and dry when it rained. Miraculously, though, it also did not sustain damage, looking exactly the same as when she had first put it on.

“I’m glad at least my protection is serving you well.”

He ran a claw along the seams of the cloak, making it glitter, like to like, magic calling for its own. He looked smug, as if pleased she was wearing something he had made.

“It does more than we bargained for. I’ve been blasted with magic strong enough to burn through most fabric but it has not even frayed. How strange of you, Rumplestiltskin, to lose out on a deal.”

He shivered when she said his name, walking behind her to the safety of the shadow she cast next to the fire.

“Can’t help it if my magic is just that powerful, my dear. I’m glad you are a happy customer. Always thought that cloak was a nice bit of magic. Can’t fault you for always wearing it.”

She felt him close in on her from behind, to the point that it almost felt like they were touching.

“It smells like you. That’s why I wear it all the time.”

The noise he made behind her was inhuman, a cross between a whimper and a growl. His claws scrapped against the back of her dress, the feeling muted by her stays, but she could feel his breath against the back of her neck and that alone was-

“Hey, this is a decent stream! Keep it PG for the kids, you weirdos.”

“Damn it, Grumpy, I wanted to see how long it would take them to snap out of it!”

“Sorry, Snow, but I ate a big dinner and I aim to keep it down.”

The messages in the chatroom wheezed by, mostly disgruntled complaints about their OTP never catching a break. The other participants in the stream were mostly silent, their mics muted likely to hide the amused snickers. There was no video feed on any of the members of the party, all of them represented instead by artwork to preserve their anonymity. Once upon a time that had been a fanciful choice, and perhaps a way to stay safe when interacting with strangers on the internet. Now it was mostly to keep their private lives from being overtaken by the popularity of their stream. “Tales of the Enchanted Forest” was shaping up to be one of the hottest D&D online streaming shows, already on its third campaign and counting.

“Beauty is just trying to get us some answers, Grumpy. We can’t just go stumbling about hoping to run into some fairy wand by chance.”

“Oh, it’s that what the kids are calling it these days?”

“Enough! Can we get back to the campaign already? It took me weeks to plan and it kinda hinges a bit on the Dark One helping, which needs to happen today.”

“Fine by me, dearie, if the dwarf can curtail his temper.”

The party was composed of five characters, a paladin, a cleric, a bard, a rogue and a thief, which along with the Dungeon Master made up the regular cast of every weekly stream. But given the popularity of the show, and the amount of time they had been playing, they had managed to amass a good amount of side-characters, guests invited every now and then to help the campaign move along and keep the interest of the audience. And by far the most popular of those guests was the Dark One, a wizard of unknown lineage and tremendous power that served both as an antagonist and a pseudo-ally depending on the situation. 

His presence was likely the reason why the livestream’s numbers looked so robust. He had amassed quite a fanbase, due in part to the commitment the player put on the character (the voice-acting was above and beyond what anyone could’ve expected from an amateur performer, and the backstory was quite complex, revealed in bits and pieces fans had meticulously assembled together) and in part to the chemistry he had managed to develop with the group’s bard, a half-human named Beauty.

“Okay, let’s all go back to what we were doing.” The DM’s voice was authoritative, though also more than a bit pissed off. “Okay, Beauty, you were about to try and cajole the Dark One to sell you the information you needed in return for a vial of water from Lake Nostos. Though the water is valuable, it’s not guaranteed to be enough to tempt the wizard. You have to roll at least a 13 in persuasion to make the trade. Roll when you’re ready.”

...

Rumford Gold stretched within the confines of the small backroom of his shop, where he had his computer stuff set up. Initially he’d bought the computer to better conduct his online business. His laptop at home wasn’t cutting it and it was better to photograph the antiques, update the website and handle the deliveries from his place of business. He had bought a good camera, some light fixtures and, on a whim, a microphone, for instances where he might need to virtually communicate with clients. It was something that was happening more and more, especially because a lot of his clientele was European. The internet had truly turned his antiquing- more of a hobby than a profession originally- into a profitable business.

He had gotten into watching D&D while waiting late at night for a client to become available in Austria. He had played as a lad, one of the few happy moments he could remember from his childhood in Glasgow, but had given it up once he had met Milah. And after they were over he had been too involved in making something of himself to remember past childhood enjoyments. But apparently D&D had evolved with the times and he had gotten into the habit of searching for and watching online D&D campaigns in his spare time. From that to actually being a side-character in one of them took almost no time. It was frightfully easy to go back to that frame of mind of playing make-believe, only now he had a distaste for the clean-cut heroic types and more of an affinity for the morally-grey, shady characters.

So he had auditioned for the role of evil-wizard when there had been an opening for a side-character in his favourite D&D stream, The Enchanted Forest. And though the DM had written what he considered to be a very flat, uninteresting character, he had been able to give it his own spin. He knew the DM hated him for it, hated when he deviated from what was expected of him, but people loved him. It was half the fun, pissing the DM off.

The other half, he had to admit, was Beauty. The one with the brains in the group, clearly, a half-human, half-fairy bard with an uncanny ability to think ahead, and arm herself with knowledge. Most of the other members of her party were more apt to try and decapitate something than negotiate with it, or even befriend it. Beauty prided herself on more of a gentle approach, which sometimes got her treated as the “fragile” one. He thought it just made her all the more interesting.

Their flirting had just kinda happened. He was half into it before he realised it had begun at all and by the time he had grown conscious- and self-conscious- of it fans were lapping it up and loving it. Even the DM, as loath as he was to admit it, found the banter engaging, even as if stole the spotlight from his story and where he wanted it to go. So every now and then he got invited into a stream, sometimes to interact with the whole party and sometimes, like the session he had just finished, to speak only to Beauty. And what was supposed to be a brief conversation before the party moved to greener pastures became a whole session, with the chatroom full of engagement and the view count off the charts.

But the DM had had a short tolerance span tonight, and had nipped things in the bud much sooner than usual. He felt… unfulfilled. Unsatisfied. Itchy, almost, in a way. So he was more than happy when he received an email from Beauty, who seemed to share his dislike of how the session had played out. They had started doing that more often, sharing emails after a session, even when he did not participate in it. It was harmless, he thought. Just an innocent online flirtation that could never realistically turn into anything. Not that his more in-person romantic overtures could ever pan out. He was in his third year of being completely smitten by the local town librarian, and in his second year of being able to put two words together in front of her without the help from Scotch, something he was perhaps a bit too proud of. And though he had decided very early on that the whole thing was utterly hopeless he had not been able to steer his thoughts or affections away. Realistically he was perhaps more in love with the idea of Belle French than the reality itself, given how little he had personally interacted with the woman. But he knew just enough to fill in the blanks and create a beautiful picture of how he imagined her to be: bookish- an easy assumption given how many times he had caught her in public places absorbed in a book-, kind, generous and delightfully able to hold a grudge and enact revenge when the time came. A bit reckless, and sometimes quick to form opinions, but also quick to revise them. A tactile person, with a great sense of fashion and a carelessness about what was expected of her.

He saw her in his head as clear as day, but little of that image was based on any personal knowledge of her. So, perhaps, he had found in Beauty a fictional substitute, someone he could talk to, and flirt with, without consequences, adopting the persona of someone more confident, more at ease with that sort of thing. The Dark One was comfortable in his skin in a way that he could only pretend to be sometimes. All the money and power he had accumulated over the years had helped him evolve from the spineless, cowardly lad he had once been, but when it came to certain situations, especially those that necessitated a level of vulnerability, he was still hopeless.

Perhaps, he wondered, it was better to think about his online liaison with Beauty as the real thing. They wrote to each other often, in and out of character, and over the course of their correspondence he had confided in her more than he had in any other person alive. Small things at first, every day peeves and details. Nothing that could identify them, certainly, but surprisingly intimate nevertheless. And over time it had grown to stuttering confessions and barings of the soul on both sides. She had told him of her teenage years in a mental asylum, the product of an overwrought widowed father trying to do right by his grieving daughter. He had had a few choice words to say about that, uncharitable thoughts about her father prompting his own willing sharing of the sad story of his childhood, neglectful father and all. It had felt nice, to confide in someone, someone he trusted.

He glanced at her email, where she lamented how their scene had not been as long or as satisfying as she had wanted, and saw she was proposing to meet later in a private stream to finish it the way they had both wanted. She had proposed something similar once or twice before and he had politely declined but now he wondered why not take her up on her offer. What was stopping him? His imaginary idea of Belle French, who in reality had never given him more than a polite smile in passing? Too young, too good, too beautiful to ever see him as anything other than an old cripple? Whatever he had built with Beauty felt infinitely more real, and attainable. A relationship without ever meeting in person seemed ideal in many aspects and, perhaps, if and when it came to meeting in the real world, his physical shortcomings would not be relevant, nor would it his rather uncharitable reputation.

He sent her a quick reply to arrange a meeting, feeling like a bit of roleplaying was, in the end, quite harmless. And if it were to lead to something a bit more meaningful, well, perhaps it was about time.

…

“Water from Lake Nostos. A key ingredient in most powerful potions and even some spells. I’m sure it could prove useful to you.”

The bard showed him the glowing crystal vial hanging from a long chain around her neck, with the glowing milky-white water from the cursed lake in it. He made a move to get closer to inspect it but the woman took a step back, tucking the vial back inside her bodice. The wizard’s eyes lingered there, hiz gaze growing intense. The bard felt her skin flush in response, something that felt a bit like fear but wasn’t running down her spine.

“And I’m sure a new wardrobe could prove useful to you, dearie. You’re practically wearing rags.” Rumplestiltskin made a show of running his eyes up and down her form with just enough disgust in his face to make it seem as if he was only noticing the rather sad state of her dress. 

“It’s my best gown, I’d thank you not to insult it.”

He made a moue of disapproval, shaking his head for good measure.

“You’re far from your days as a princess. I hope seeing the world is worth putting up with your band of idiots that waste most of the gold they earn with your wit in pointless goose chases that you know will lead nowhere.”

Beauty didn’t respond. There was nothing she could say to contradict what he thought of her party, none of which was charitable to say the least. And she also knew that he was aware that all of it was worth the freedom she had won when she had left her life in her father’s castle behind. She did miss one or two things, perhaps. Her mother’s vast library being one and, perhaps, some of the fashions. Not so much the silhouettes- she had never liked how the sea of petticoats she was always forced to wear restricted her movement- but the fabrics and colours, certainly. And the shoes.

“I’m here to make a deal, Dark One. Are you doing business today or not?”

Lesser creatures would’ve rather bitten off their tongues that throw cheek at the Dark One, but Beauty did not even bat an eye, lips curling in a defiant little smile that had the wizard smirking, something like admiration blooming in his chest. It’s what he loved most about his little bard, her spine of steel. And perhaps her blue eyes, but that was neither here nor there.

“I don’t do business with raggedy urchins, dearie. If you want to sit down and negotiate you’ll need a bath.” He made a face, as if he could smell her across the room. “And a change of dress, while I put your current outfit to wash… Or set it on fire, I haven’t decided yet.”

She could tell that he was pulling his punches, that he was playing at being repulsed by her state of dress and hygiene just bad enough that she would see he did not really mean it, not in any real way. She would’ve been able to tell either way, but it was nice that he thought it important to spare her feelings. And she couldn’t deny that a bath sounded heavenly after so many weeks on the road, sleeping out in the open and washing in freezing-cold creeks whenever possible.

“Well, if you insist…”

He took her to a well-lit and spacious bathing chamber, with the biggest copper tub she had ever seen, already filled with warm, soapy water that smelled of vanilla. She wasted no time after the door closed behind him, stripping quickly, careless of her worn and mended garments, and slipping into the tub. It was heaven on her tired muscles, and her dirty skin, and though she would’ve stayed there for hours she knew that every minute spent bathing was a minute less with the Dark One. Their time was limited. If she didn’t return to camp in the morning her party would venture into the castle, likely thinking the most dreadful scenarios. She could picture Charming attempting to kick the front gate open and getting hurt for his troubles. She could not let them worry for her, or risk the rapport she had developed with the Dark One by coming in unannounced. 

She got out of the tub with only a bit of reluctance and found a towel that she was convinced was enchanted to dry her faster than possible. She found clothing laid out in the adjoining dressing room, the undergarments soft and made of pale cream fabric and the dress of a lovely velvety, forest-green fabric, with a belt embroidered in small pearls that matched the detail about the neckline. She put it on gladly, twisting every which way to lace it up at her back. Living a less princessy life had made her acquire a number of small skills, including the ability to dress up mostly by herself even in gowns that did not lace up at the front, like most of her travelling clothes.

She did not spot her mauve travelling dress or her boots, but she was sure that Rumplestiltskin had whisked them away and would subtly mend them with magic, though she was sure he would deny it if she were to point it out. The green dress was accompanied by matching slippers, butter-soft and silent as they touched the stone floor. She made sure to dry her hair out, noticing how it shone red-gold in the flattering light of the candles, and took her time brushing it and styling it out of her face, so it fell flatteringly down her back. Her neck and most of her upper torso was bare but for the chain keeping the vial of water tucked safely against her breasts, the wide neckline of the dress dipping low enough to leave her collarbones bare, but she didn’t mind it. She was inside the Dark Castle, with the Dark One. She was safe there. On the road she always had to think about not attracting unwanted male attention. Here she rather felt like the opposite.

It was a silly infatuation, and many would argue any interest or desire on her part was due to the wizard’s power, which some would say was an aphrodisiac potent enough to make some look past the Dark One’s rather unfortunate exterior. No one would ever believe her if she confessed she rather… liked his appearance. The green-gold skin, the wild hair, the talons, but also the exquisitely-tailored pants and vests, the frothy cravats, the slim coats. A beast and a gentleman. A rather enticing combination, she had found.

She went downstairs into the trophy room once more, where two massive chairs were pulled up next to the roaring fireplace, the main source of light. The Dark One was sitting in one of them, a snifter gingerly held by a clawed hand, containing some sort of brown-gold liquid. He glanced at her the moment she entered the room, unwilling or unable to hide his appreciation for what he saw. He had removed his coat, leaving only his high-collared vest and one of his open shirts to cover his upper body, no forty cravat in sight. He seemed less guarded, more adventurous than he usually was when it came to matters of intimacy.

“You clean up well, dearie. Wish I could say the same for your dress. A wash will only do so much for it, but I refrained from throwing it into the fireplace. You’re welcome.”

“Good, as it’s not your property to destroy.” Beauty sat down, with a poise that betrayed her royal upbringing, and primly crossed her legs at the ankles. “So, Dark One, are you prepared to deal with me now?”

She had dealt with him dozens of times before, she had no idea why it all sounded so much like innuendo now. She couldn’t say she minded it.

“Of course, my dear. I’ve had time to think about our deal whilst you were splashing about in the tub.” His sing-songy voice broke, getting suddenly deeper for a second or two, as if he was struggling to retain his composure. “The vial is certainly a good start, but perhaps not quite enough. Now, I’m prepared to be generous given our long and fruitful history of dealmaking together, but I must also keep up certain appearances. So I thought I would also demand… an evening of your time.”

He tried to make it sound sinister, but she was past getting scared of him. At least in the traditional way. She raised an eyebrow, adopting a rather coquettish expression.

“And what would an evening of my time entail exactly?”

“Oh, well, you know. Companionship, perhaps a game of chess, some good wine, conversation and the like.”

She made a show of thinking it over before offering her hand, which he shook without delay.

“It’s a deal.”

Several hours later she had won two games of chess, one game of checkers, and was sipping from her third coupe of sparkling wine as she listened intently to a story about a deal the Dark One had once made with a king from a distant land. He was a gifted storyteller, engaging and funny, knowing exactly when to pause or gesticulate to keep the flow of the story just right. The king in his tale was rather unfortunate, in the sense that his hubris and arrogance had led him to make a deal with the Dark One that he did not understand. Most of Rumplestiltskin’s deals seemed to be like that, Beauty thought. And when he came to collect people dared be indignant that he demanded what they promised in the first place.

“The king was furious. Never let go of the grudge. Hired several assassins to try and kill me. A waste of gold, of course.”

He let out a trilling laugh, which soon proved to be contagious. Somehow, over time, it felt like their chairs had moved closer, because if she stretched out a hand she could easily touch him. Odd.

“Serves him right, for making such an open-ended deal. What a rookie mistake.”

She didn’t recall removing her slippers but she must have, because her feet were enjoying being pressed against the soft cushion of the chair. He made a gesture for her to lean close, which was a bit of a balancing feat, but she managed. Her heart skipped a bit when he leaned close too, almost pressing his mouth against her ear.

“You have no room to talk, sweet. You struck a very vague deal yourself, committing to an evening of conversation, chess ‘and the like’. That little turn of phrase is an invitation to all manner of sins, even the darkest and most decadent of debaucheries.”

He hissed the last part, making her shiver. Not content with letting him have the upper hand she turned her head so their lips were inches apart.

“That’s what I was hoping for.”

She could tell she had shocked him into inaction. Cocky Dark One, always in control of the conversation, always one step ahead of everyone else. It was nice to see him floundering, to catch him unprepared. Finally he gulped and put a little distance between them.

“Aren’t you the bravest little poppet.”

“My mother always said ‘Do the brave thing and bravery will follow.’ I’m a firm believer of the principle.”

Slowly, almost painfully so, both his hands clutched at the armrests of her chair, effectively pinning her to it. She knew she was supposed to be scared but she felt nothing but excitement, a buzzing just beneath the skin that made her strangely needy for something. Touch, perhaps, or more. The feeling was so overwhelming she did not realise at first that the laces of her dress were coming undone, as if invisible hands were painstakingly pulling them loose. She tried to make eye contact, but he ducked his head, pressing his face against the base of her neck, where it met her shoulder. She sighed, noticing how gentle he was, his touch feather-light, and discovering that she would not mind a rougher treatment. He was restraining himself, she realised, trying to be a gentleman. Sweet, but not what she wanted from him at that moment. Feeling bold Beauty carded a hand through his hair, pressing his face more firmly against her skin.

“Please, Rumple.”

Those two words seemed to have a magic of their own, producing a sudden and radical change in him. He moved too fast for her to see, wrapping her up in his arms and depositing her on the long dining table on the other side of the room. She did not know whether he used magic or simply moved inhumanly fast, but either possibility excited her, reminded her of the power of the creature looming over her, claws tugging at the unlaced bodice of her dress, dragging the velvet down to expose her undergarments. She was wearing the underbust corset he had provided over the snowy linen shift he had also left for her, so it was easy for him to simply tug the shift down a bit to expose her breasts. He leaned forward, nuzzling the space between her breasts, making a sort of satisfied purring noise as he sniffed up her clavicles and down her throat. Then, once he was happy with the level of squirming she was doing, he finally gave her what she wanted, closing his mouth, with all of its sharp teeth, around one of her rosy nipples. It was a strange feeling at first, more unfamiliar than pleasant, but when he began to suck it changed completely, little shocks of pleasure running from her nipple to between her legs. It was amazing, more than she had ever achieved with her own hands whenever she could get some privacy at night, and the feeling doubled when he grasped her untouched breast, his long claws estimulating the other nipple.

She sunk both her hands in his hair, fisting it in an effort to keep herself from squirming too much, feeling both aroused and impatient. She kept waiting for him to tire of her chest and move further down but when he was finally done sucking her nipples his head moved north, his lips blinding searching for hers till they were kissing. It wasn’t anything like any kiss she had experienced before, not even the unpleasant smack her former fiance had forced on her. Though it was just as forceful there was a wild quality to it, one she had never associated with the affectionate gesture. It was heavenly, the release of passion, far from cooling her down, setting her on fire, stoking her need for him till it felt like she would explode if he didn’t give her relief. 

He must have sensed it, her desperation calling to him like a siren song, because at some point he let go of her mouth to travel south, past her aching chest, and velvet-covered belly to where the skirts of her long gown kept her modestly covered. He wasted no time dragging the heavy fabric up, letting it pool around her hips along with the white linen of her shift. She did not have any other undergarments, having not been provided with any, so she was completely exposed to his gaze, from her milky things to her round hips. She squirmed, trying to picture what he must be looking at, the trim thatch of chestnut curls at the apex of her legs, obscenely drenched by this point and making a poor show of trying to hide the pink, glistening flesh beneath.

“What a lovely cunt you have.” His voice was dark, guttural, a monster trying to speak like a man. It thrilled her. “Let me drink from it, precious.”

He didn’t wait for her reply, choosing instead to simply bury his head against her flesh, his tongue rough and wide as it lapped at her field parting them to seek out the bundle of nerves that was throwing for attention. She arched her back, feeling like it was only her firm grip on her thigh and hip what kept her anchored to the table. She fell into a rhythm of sorts, her body seeking out something she could not find but his mouth striving to compensate, to give her what she needed. It was heavenly and seemed to last an eternity, the sensations building up till everything but them faded away, all sensations muted. She felt him move to, thrusting his hips against the edge of the table, making it rattle in a way that spoke of his sheer brute force. It was heady to have someone like Rumplestiltskin, who had always strived to don the mask of a gentleman around her, be so unhinged, so animalistic. More than anything it was that complete loss of control what drove her over the edge. She cried out, feeling her inner muscles coil and her senses spiral out of control, her orgasm leaving her dizzy. It seemed to last forever and not nearly long enough. She laid there for a while after the feeling passed, feeling satisfied and wanting at the same time. A few seconds later he also keened, slumping against her still-parted legs, his hair tickling the soft skin of her inner thighs.

They lay that way for what seemed like ages, while they scrambled to try and collect themselves. The afterglow did not feel awkward or uncomfortable, and it loosened up her tongue enough to venture out that she had hoped for an even more intimate act, a joining that was even deeper than what they had done.

 “A deal for such a prize would have to involve all my deepest secrets, my most valuable truths.” He paused, pressing his forehead against the silky inside of her thigh, like a penitent would. “One day, perhaps.”

...

“Do you want to meet? I think it’s time.”

The orgasm had mellowed him out, otherwise he was sure he would’ve at least panicked a little bit. But in the afterglow of what they had just shared, albeit virtually, a meeting did not seem like such a bad idea. In hushed voices they arranged the time and place, tomorrow at a café and bistro in Boston. Nice and public, for both their safety. They knew both lived near Boston, so it seemed natural to pick the city. The drive wasn’t too bad, and he hoped it wasn’t a great inconvenience to her either.

Reluctantly they said their goodbyes, both trying to prolong the moment a bit more till they were both close to nodding off. With a final, reluctant goodbye they both disconnected, leaving Gold to clean himself up and make his way home. With his rumpled suit, disheveled hair and five o��clock shadow it must have looked like the walk of shame. It certainly didn’t feel that way.

...

He woke up in a happy mood, perhaps the best in a long time. Far from feeling stupid or embarrassed about his little bit of roleplaying-turned-porn-session he felt smug, empowered by the notion that he had made a smart, desirable woman come with only his voice and imagination. He felt like he was on the brink of something, as if an exciting possibility was opening up for him. 

He went about his day with a bit of a spring in his step, though most citizens of Storybrooke would be pressed to notice. It was only when he saw the book on gardening he was due to return to the library that afternoon- his two Moth orchids had developed small water-soaked spots on the leaves and he had wanted to consult some verified sources instead of relying exclusively on Google search results- that his mood dampened somewhat. As nice as last night had been- bloody fantastic rather- it did make him sad, somewhat, to give up his crush on Belle French. However unattainable it was still nice to have it, that bit of feeling that did not need to be reciprocated to be real. It had been nice to feel something for someone for a change, to look forward to each smile and each small conversation. But it wouldn’t be right, and what he had now was more valuable in any case. Perhaps, with time, he would grow out of his infatuation with the librarian and they could be friends. That would be rather lovely.

He crossed the street towards the library around three o’clock, wanting to beat the rush caused by children being let off school, a busy time for one of the only kid-friendly places in Storybrooke. There were some patrons about, and the afternoon light made the library look truly beautiful. Miss French truly worked miracles with her limited budget.

He found her easily, shelving a few books in the poetry section, and tried not to preen when she smiled widely at him.

“Mr Gold, hi! Always a pleasure. Here to return a book?”

The librarian was always sunny and welcoming, but she looked even happier that day, an excited sort of energy practically rolling off of her in waves. Thank goodness he had decided to give up on his silly little crush, otherwise he might have buckled under the power of her brightness. 

“Yes. And you look particularly happy today, Miss French, if I might say so.”

The librarian smiled even more, if possible, and leaned close, as if to tell him a secret.

“I have a date tonight.”

It hurt, the slightest bit, the shock making him take a step back, but less than it would have yesterday. And perhaps, he reasoned, this would be good. This would put them both in the path of becoming friends, allowing him to leave his crush behind much faster. He forced himself to enquire politely after the lucky man, listening as she talked about someone she had been flirting with for a long time now, and it seemed like the relationship was finally ready for the next step.

“I’m really happy. And very nervous. It feels like such a risk, after all this time building something that could easily fizzle out with a first date. But I’ve always believed in doing the brave thing, and bravery will follow. It’s what my mother always said.”

She had turned back to shelve a book as she finished the last sentence, so thankfully she did not see his jaw drop and his eyes widen, his surprise so visible no one could’ve missed it. His heart lurched in his chest, sheer and sudden panic making it difficult to breathe. Fuck. Fuck. It wasn’t possible. Belle was Beauty. Belle was Beauty. He tried to contradict the notion in his head but he had known Beauty’s British accent was passable but fake, and it made sense for him not to have identified her voice when she usually spoke with her natural Australian drawl, something he associated so closely with her. Everything else he had ever found out about Beauty, in and out of the D&D setting, coincided with what he knew, or thought he knew, about the librarian, one of the reasons why he had developed a crush on her in the first place.

The initial shock was followed by a spike of elation and then a sinking feeling of dread. He needed to cancel. She would be disappointed, but more disappointed if he didn’t and she realised her crush was a man a good deal older than her that was known for being the town monster. It would be awkward and she would not be able to escape him after it, both doomed to meet each other often, given the small size of the town. He could not put her through that.

He stopped himself then, noticing the familiar dark turn of his thoughts, dipped in so much self-loathing it was almost stifling. And he wondered if he really was thinking about Belle or about himself. Being a coward, taking the easy way out. He thought about how he had woken up, the world full of promise and the future bright with the possibility of something great on the horizon. And how he had felt brave last night, to leap into something that had been so worth it. Perhaps it was time to be brave more often. Do something, however small. Put the ball in her court, somehow.

“I wish you the best of luck, then. Perhaps some other time, if you’re not too busy, you could pop into my shop. I have a few antique books I feel you would appreciate.”

It was a nice recovery, and he was happy to see her smile, apparently welcoming the proposition. Everyone knew Mr Gold’s shop was only to be entered when making deals. He didn’t really allow idle perusal of his stock and no one had the money or interest to buy his antiques. His business was conducted mostly with people from major cities on the East Coast.

“Wow, an open invitation to traipse into Mr Gold’s shop, that’s not something one sees everyday. What do you want in return? I hear only deals can grant you access to the shop.”

She made sure to make it clear she was joking, something he appreciated. Feeling emboldened by her kind gesture he adopted a slightly higher pitch and replied:

“Oh, nothing much. Companionship, perhaps a game of chess, some good wine, conversation and the like.”

Being close enough he got to see as it dawned on her, as her brain quickly processed what he had said and where she had heard it before. And he knew, knew because of the way she looked at him, as if she did not recognise him, as if he was a brand new person to her, that she understood the implication, what he had meant to tell her without actually telling her. 

“Hope to see you soon, then. Good luck with the date.”

He turned around before he could second-guess himself, feeling terrified by what he had exposed but satisfied at the same time. This way it was Belle’s choice to show up. For all she knew he had no idea that she was Beauty. She could make up an excuse and simply not meet her, and their worlds would never merge. If she did not want to pursue anything between them all she had to do is cancel the date, or not show up. He would respect her decision and never push for anything, or acknowledge their online relationship in the real world.

He sent her an email just as he was about to get into his car, letting her know that he understood that this meeting was a bit of a risk and he would understand if she backed out at the last minute. There were other things he could do in Boston, and he was not adverse to having dinner by himself. And they could still be friends, no matter what she decided. He was halfway to Boston when he heard his cell phone ping, letting him know he had a new email. As he expected, it was from Beauty:

“I’m on my way. Can’t wait to meet you! See you soon.”

He smiled.

[pl-panda]

The vines that bind us - Chapter 9

Chapter 1 || Previous || Next

------

She opened the window and picked a pencil. With deadly precision she tossed it. The wooden tool sailed through the air until it hit the binoculars and broke one side of them. She huffed and closed the window before pulling the curtains closed. How rude.

Jason cursed under his breath. Any other day he would probably avoid the projectile, but it caught him completely by surprise. By all accounts, it was physically impossible to use a pencil with such precision and force to destroy military-grade night-vision binoculars. At least the memory card was safe so he could give it to replacement later on for analysis.

Still in bad mood after having his gear ruined, Jason zipped to Dupain-Cheng’s window and gave a light knock. No response. Another knock. Still no response. Finally, after the third knock, the blinders opened and the window itself followed, revealing a very angry girl. Jason finally had a chance to get a better look at her. She did, in fact, have blue hair and now that he’d seen it close, he would bet half his paycheque that it was somehow a natural color. The purple too. She must have had her hair dyed for the first day of work. Her eyes were another part that he memorized. They were blue and iridescent green at the same time, giving a slight unnatural aura. Or maybe it was just that she looked ready to murder him.

“Are you done staring?” She asked, clearly annoyed. “You are not my type and much too old. And the stalker routine is plain creepy. Get lost old guy.”

She was about to close the window when he started speaking.

“I actually came to apologize. I did not ‘stalk’ you, thank you very much. I was just checking on you, miss. You do realize that you single-handedly kicked Riddler’s ass and got quite a bit of publicity.”

“Suuure. You do that for every brave citizen?” She asked with a raised eyebrow and a small grin. “You would be really short-staffed. I hope that overgrown furry does pay you for the overtime.” Any traces of amusement disappeared from her face. “Now get lost before I sic Chloe on you. She recently started dating Damian Wayne and the two seem to bond over ruining people. I’m sure you would make a decent target.” Without further ado, Mari closed the window and put the blinders back in place, completely cutting him off. 

Jason didn’t protest. He was too busy processing the fact that Demon Spawn apparently started dating someone. Oh, he would have so much fun teasing the little menace. 

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

When the motorbike entered the Batcave, Jason expected to meet perhaps the Replacement or Demon Spawn. He definitely did not expect to see the entire family sans B and Alfred. 

“Do you want to perhaps explain why dad received an angry call about ‘some idiot in red bucket’ stalking her through the window?” Barbara asked. frowning deeply. 

“Or at least why were you stalking her?” Dick added.

“Or where you hid my coffee?” Tim joined.

“Timothy!” Several of them shouted.

“What? It’s important!”

“Back to the matter at hand.” Dick turned back to Jason. “What exactly were you thinking?!” He screamed.

“Geez. You thought about joining some opera?”

“Tt. Answer the question.” Damian interrupted.

“That reminds me. Did you know Demon Spawn got himself a girlfriend?” Jason asked, trying to deflect. He really did not like how they jumped at him.

“Not… important.” Cass stared daggers at him. “Talk.”

“Fine!” he threw hands in the air. “I followed a hunch. And I was right. She is a meta!” He procured his destroyed binoculars. “There is no human way to destroy military-grade equipment like that with just a pencil.”

Tim picked it up and quickly tossed it onto the table nearby. A blue light scanned the products and the bat-computer started to display the scan plus introductory analysis.

“Well, he is right. There is no way that a simple pencil could destroy it.” He pressed some buttons and recording from the last seconds of the item’s life played. They could clearly see her throw a pencil at it and then everything went black. “Or I was wrong.” Tim started to do a series of calculations. 

“Bucket-head might be onto something. With her muscle mass, it would be impossible to throw a pen with enough force. Actually, it’s almost impossible to make that throw. Not with human muscle density…”

Barbara rolled over to him and the two started to work side by side. “But that’s also not probable since the body is not…” 

“She would probably…” 

“Plant fibers have a similar structure, but she would…” 

“Maybe… Unless she is not strong and instead…”

“Um… earth to nerd corner. Can you explain?”

“Jason might have hit the bullseye.” Tim grinned and several groans could’ve been heard. “She is definitely a meta. It still doesn’t explain why you stalked her.”

“Is that not reason enough?” Red Hood asked. He immediately regretted it when Duke stared daggers at him. 

“You do realize, that metahumans are not as rare as it was believed at the beginning?” Tim asked.

“What?”

“Roughly ten percent of humans are born with dormant meta-gene and the number is increasing each year. And about one in twenty people have an active meta-gene. They just don’t go around wrecking everything or don a cape and run around beating people.” Tim spoke in a matter-of-factly tone. 

“What?”

“Yeah. Eidetic memory, or perfect recall for our uneducated bucket-head,” Tim snickered while Jason grumbled.

“I hate that name.”

“I think it will stay for a while.” Stephanie was smiling. “She does have a way with nicknames. First an overgrown furry, then red Buckethead…” She was on the verge of laughing. “I wonder what she does next?”

“As I was saying,” Tim regained the control of the conversation, “eidetic memory is actually one of the earliest forms of registered active meta-ability.”

“What?”

“The gene tends to activate under extreme duress, but, as we learned, the definition of extreme duress varies from person to person.”

“So what? A guy afraid of failing an exam might accidentally unlock super memory?” Jason dismissed it.

“More like if someone lived in years under pressure and is about to crack.” Dick pointed. “I mean there was even this large awareness campaign about four years ago led by Beast Boy. Where were you?”

“Dead.” Jason deadpanned. “I was dead.”

“Oh… I guess you didn’t see Garfield’s movies then?” Steph asked, being the first to break through the heavy atmosphere.

“She is still a meta.” Jason tried to fight, but his arguments were wavering. 

“Which changes nothing. You will go to her tomorrow and apologize.” Tim said categorically. 

“Ugh! Fine. But I got one more interesting fact: Demon Spawn got himself a girlfriend.” He grinned and turned to Damian. Everyone followed his gaze.

“Tt. I have no idea what you are talking about Todd.” 

“That blonde! Charlie saw you two sitting and eating pastries together! She is the new intern!” Dick had a big fat smile on his face and his eyes were almost glittering. “Who is she? How did you two meet?”

“Blonde?” Tim suddenly paled considerably. “There is only one blonde intern. Please tell me you aren’t dating Chloe Bourgeoise of all people!” He squeaked.

Damian wanted to deny it further, but seeing the Replacement’s reaction he changed his mind. The grin that formed on his face was borderline malicious before turning back to the emotionless mask he wore every day. “Yes. She finally admitted that I was not at fault for the cake incident. She is actually tolerable now.” 

“What cake incident?” Steph asked, smelling some juicy story about her ex. That kind of story was the best.

“Tt. When we were at this gala in Paris two years ago, Replacement attacked me and we fell into the birthday cake.”

“It doesn’t sound…” Dick started, but Damian interrupted him.

“The cake had six levels and was about as tall as I am now. Mayor Bourgeoise was not happy that we ruined his precious princess’s birthday.”

“So that’s why we no longer go to Paris?”

“Tt. No. That’s because Jason almost trashed the Louvre.” 

“Right…” Tim mumbled while his eyes closed. In just a moment, he was snoring away on the chair.

“Damn. I thought it would work faster.” Barbara complained while peeling the near-invisible sticker away from his neck. 

-----

Thursday actually passed without any trouble for Marinette. The class finally got it through their collective single brain cell that she had the power to end their trip with two words. She was slowly getting the grip on the work and after some talk with Penny, where the woman practically forced Mari to listen to some additional advice. She was actually offended that the girl didn’t call her immediately. 

She did have to practically drag her barely conscious boss to a meeting in the afternoon, but he didn’t put up much of a fight after she gave him a Tikki Special Coffee. The small goddess giggled inside her pocket the entire time as the boy begged on his knees.

After work, she and Chloe went to the Gotham Zoological Garden. At first, she wanted to go to the Botanic Garden first, but their class was supposed to visit there after work, so the girls went to Zoo instead. Gotham had a much broader collection of birds than Paris did. And the less chance of running into their classmates, the better.

“...He did what?” Chloe asked louder than necessary, but nobody paid the two girls in smart outfits any attention.

“Yeah. But don’t worry. I gave him a piece of my mind.” Mari dismissed it.

“It’s still creepy.”

“I know. That’s why I sicced the police at him.”

“That’s my girl!” 

“Well, I threatened to send you and Damian after him, but I decided it would be too cruel.” She smiled. “Besides, I’ve seen that Red Buckethead is trending already.” She pulled out her phone and showed a post there was a picture of Red Hood next to a reversed red bucket.

FashionMari @QueenGoldie Someone in a red bucket was stalking me. I was torn between calling the police and criticizing their fashion choice. In the end, I did both. 

“Only you Goldie. Only you…”

--------

Friday was press conference day. For once, Mari woke up earlier and got dressed in record time. Chloe watched from the side-lines as the girl moved around like a tornado, preparing everything and triple-checking all arrangements. She changed outfits four times before finally the blonde grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to sit down. 

“Goldie! You know I love you and I would kill for you,” She started, “but if you don’t calm down I will tie you up and leave you here for the day.”

“But…!” Bluenette tried to protest, but Chloe cut her off.

“No buts. We are only sixteen. I for one came here to learn a bit and maybe meet someone. You are supposed to be learning. Nobody said anything about getting a full-time job.”

“The deal…”

“So what if they fire you?” Chloe raised her hands over her head. “Ridiculous! Utterly Ridiculous! You have Gabriel Agreste and Audrey Bourgeoise fighting over who will get you while Jagged Stone is willing to fly over half the world just to give your references in person. You run a very successful flower shop and even more successful boutique.”

“But…” She tried to muster a weak protest, but Chloe’s angry gaze made her wither. 

“I will not let you run yourself dry!” The blonde stated firmly. “So either you take a step back and breathe or I will call your uncle.”

“Not uncle Jagged! he already banned me from drinking coffee!”

“So you will behave?” Chloe asked with a smirk. 

“Fiiiinneee!” Mari couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Queenie. I needed this. I’m glad I have you as my friend. And sister.” 

“Well of course you needed me! Everyone needs me!” She huffed before her expression became more gentle and she pulled Mari into a hug. 

Downstairs the class was waiting for them. Probably they finally gathered the courage to confront her about Alya’s fate. The girl shouldn’t have lied while filing for promotion. Mari and Chloe stormed past them not even sparing them a glance. Outside, Adrien was already waiting inside the limousine with Gerard at the driver’s seat. 

“I’m glad your driver is finally here.”

“Me too!” The blond boy was practically beaming. “I’m free from Lila’s clutches.”

“Could you drop us at… No. 2 Twine Street?” Mari asked the gorilla, who only grunted in response.

“Um… We should be going to Wayne Tower.”

“Nope.” Mari popped the ‘p’. “You,” she pointed at Adrien, “are an intern in PR. I asked for you to be present at the press conference to help move stuff around and so on.” 

“And me?” Chloe asked. “If you expect me to…” 

“You’re there to support your boyfriend. He was the one that practically demanded that I get you there. He hates publicity.”

“Oh… Good then. Let’s go.”

“Boyfriend?” Adrien asked curiously. “You mean Wayne?”

“Yeah. Apparently Chloe found herself a partner in scheming.”

“I bet that their dates are filled with planning to take over the world.”

“We could’ve taken the world over by lunch if we wanted.” Chloe looked almost offended. “The question is what way would be the most suitable one.” 

All three of them broke into laughter as the car rode through the city of crime.

----

About fifteen minutes before the press conference was scheduled to start, Tim Drake was still not there. None of the Waynes were there in fact. She sent about fifteen angry messages to Mr. Drake and he was still not here, which only fueled her stress and anger. 

The press had no idea so far and they were eagerly awaiting whatever news the company wanted to present. She bit her lower lips. Chloe was on the phone, trying to reach her boyfriend.

“If that idiot doesn’t get here in the next ten minutes, I’m going to consider stabbing him.” 

“Damian?!” Chloe shouted into her phone. 

“Tt. What do you want?”

“First of all, that’s not how you talk to your girlfriend. Second of all, where in the world is your excuse of a brother?! Mari is an inch from going ballistic!”

“Tt. He’s asleep.” Damian answered in an impassionate tone.

Mari leaped over and wrestled the phone from Chloe. “You go to him right this moment or I swear to all that’s holy and…”

“I get it.” He interrupted her, showing signs of irritation. There were some static and the camera blurred for a moment from the fast motion. When it returned, she saw barely awake Tim Drake wearing blue onesies. 

“wah…”

“Get yourself cleaned up and into a suit in the next three minutes!” She shouted. God bless the soundproof backstage.

“Um… But I will never make…”

“I’m certain you have a great webcam somewhere in this big mansion of yours. Set it in the library and call me in the next few minutes. I so hope you were not supposed to be the model because gods help me…” She took a look at his terrified face. “Of course you were…” 

“In my defense…”

“Shut up. Get going!” She hanged up and turned to Adrien and Chloe, who were looking at her with a mixture of fear and awe. “What are you waiting for?!” She tossed a package to the boy. “You get dressed in the new product.” She pushed him outside and into the janitor’s closet on the other side. “And you’re coming with me!” She dragged Chloe toward the main room. The blonde was sent to the technics room to get the feed started while Mari stepped on the scene. The chatter died quickly and all reporters turned to her.

“Hi. Please forgive us for the slight delay. We have minor technical difficulties that are being solved as we speak. In the meantime, you are free to take the seats. The conference is about to start.” 

Behind her, a screen slowly descended. She saw Adrien leaning from the doors leading backstage and smiling at her. 

“Without further ado, I present you Tim Drake, CEO of Wayne Enterprises.”

The image of the teen with black hair appeared on the screen and he waved everyone. He was holding a red cup of coffee with black polka dots, the same Tikki summoned for him the first time. 

Satisfied with herself, Marinette allowed herself a moment of rest. The conference was going well and after a minute of silence for the dead in the recent attack, the presentation began. Adrien was a natural model so it all went great. Wayne Tech in co-operation with Gabriel brand was introducing a new line of ‘smart’ fabric that could withstand medium stress and was almost impossible to dirty or stain. She had to admit it was quite amazing. Apparently, it was partially how Mr. Agreste got her class internship. Granted, Adrien was not supposed to be the model but you don’t look a gifted horse in the mouth. 

Everything was going great until the doors to the room were kicked open and several goons barged in, followed by none other than Two-face. Everyone immediately fell onto the floor. Mari couldn’t help but sigh exasperatedly. Why did it have to go wrong at every turn?

Ignoring the terrified stares, she stormed toward the intruders. “Excuse me, sir?” She asked with an emotionless face.

“What?” The man looked clearly irritated.

“I don’t see your name on the guest list. Did you remember to call in advance?”

“Of course not! Do I look like…” The criminal was clearly angry. 

“Then I apologize, but I must ask you to leave now.” 

“Do you have any idea who I am?” Two-face pulled his gun.

“I’m sorry, sir, but if you are not on on the list, I can’t let you stay.” She said in an emotionless voice. Mari was honestly too tired to care at this point. Maybe at least the evening would be better.

“I’m not sure you get the situation, miss. I’m not here for the interviews. Everyone pull out your wallets and drop them in the sacks!” He shouted while his men started to walk around.

“Hm… That won’t do.” She said. After muttering something under her breath, Mari tossed her clipboard. The spinning board hit one of the mooks in the head, knocking him cold, before bouncing and hitting the next one. After that, it returned to her hand. 

That was enough for Two-Face. He aimed his gun at her, but she moved faster than he anticipated. Within seconds, she grabbed his wrist and pushed it up so he was aiming at the ceiling. She squeezed it hard enough to make him drop the gun right into her other waiting hand. The girl let go of his wrist and disassembled the gun into pieces in what could become record time. 

Now irritated, Mari grabbed Two-face by his tie and pulled him down until they were at the same eye-level. 

“I was trying to do it peacefully sir. I am now ordering you to leave. Otherwise, I will actually have to hurt you.” She leaned closer until she was able to whisper. “And don’t make mistakes, Dent. I can and will hurt you.” For a moment her eyes lost the blue coloring and became entirely iridescent green, glowing slightly. 

Harvey Dent rarely felt fear. His life was more often than not guided by the toss of a coin. Now though, he stared in the eyes of Poison Ivy, except ten times scarier. He was already afraid of that woman after she almost fed him to her ‘precious’.

“I… I am deeply sorry madame.” He spoke carefully. “Men! We are moving out. Leave the bags!” And with that, they were all gone. 

Most of the reporters gave Mari big applause. There was only one angry old man that stared daggers at the girl. 

“You let that scum go away!” He shouted. “He was a criminal.”

“Sir. You are free to go after him if that’s your wish. I’m at work and my job description never included chasing after criminals.”

“But… But…” 

“Anyway, we were in the middle of the press conference if I’m not mistaken.”

-------

NEXT

[omnipah]

re: your tag - tell me more about why D&D is a bad ttrpg! I get so frustrated with people trying to mod D&D for different settings & campaigns when there are so many other systems out there that might do exactly what they're looking for and better!

Okay so first of all, disclaimer needed: I’ve only played dnd before, all my experience of other systems is from actual play (please I’m begging u to listen to Friends At The Table), but even that level of exposure is enough to see how dnd is, uh, Very deeply flawed and only gets by on the fact that people don’t know that better stuff exists (or, they do but they don’t wanna try it on principle, I guess).

My main thing is, and this is a matter of both the mechanics and the culture surrounding the game, that dnd is very bad at doing what a ttrpg sets out to do. Which is, a ttrpg is supposed to be a way of generating story in a way that’s spontaneous and collaborative, and of course there are a lot of ways to do that, but everything about dnd is designed to resist that drive. The amount of power the dm holds (both socially and mechanically) automatically sets them against the character players, and creates a space where the other players are encouraged to be completely passive and allow the dm to essentially have final say on what does and doesn’t go. Obviously this is partly an issue of who you’re playing with and whether they know how to be respectful, but the game leans into it by encouraging the dm to do all worldbuilding work themself and often hold secrets about it, and also through the way the dc of a roll is always the dm’s discretion. It doesn’t matter how well you rolled, at the end of the day, they can just say you failed, and if they’re smart they’ll just never tell u that they changed the dc behind ur back, but they’re perfectly capable within the rules and culture of the game to just change it based on what they like. This, needless to say, does not exactly cultivate good faith.

This is what I was saying in my tags: the issue of character players being passive and expecting to have a story told at them is a real problem, yes, and those players should engage and take responsibility for their part in generating plot and characterisation, but it’s an artefact of an extant (and now cyclic) problem, wherein the players with different roles aren’t encouraged to communicate or work together.

Like, one of the other things that feels really overlooked in dnd circles is the idea of consent and negotiation, the idea that the players should be able to, at any point, say to each other that they don’t want to touch a topic, or that they’re uncomfortable with where the story is going; a lot of people seem to implicitly think that it’s just not a big enough deal to actually talk about those things, or, at best, they assume you’ll say something without encouraging you to. There’s this assumption that if you don’t like something it’s your problem, rather than a collaborative effort to create a space in which everyone feels secure, and trusts the other people at the table enough to speak up without fear of getting dismissed.

That also leads into the issue of excessively built-out combat mechanics, with disproportionately little by way of anything else. It’s never encouraged by the rules to set boundaries for what kinds of violence you’re willing to see or commit in-game, or discuss the implications of depicting those things; and it’s assumed that combat is the main thing you’re there for. Combining that with the shocking level of bioessentialism in the lorebooks (whether overt fantasy racism or subtler stuff), it makes for a very narrow, and colonial, band of stories available to tell without excessive hacking, and hacking is excessively difficult because of how number-crunchy it is, in that, if you change anything or add anything, it’s very possible you’ll just break the game statistically.

The crunchiness also is something which can work and I’ve seen work well in other systems, but the way dnd does it actively discourages creativity on the character players’ parts. Other systems codify types of actions, and types of success and failure, which deliberately have wiggle room so that the mechanics can be massaged to take whatever weird and wonderful thing u wanna try to do, and they do it in a way that makes failure an interesting outcome that drives plot forward; dnd wants every single possible action to be codified in one specific way, or else not be accounted for at all (see previous, you also then can’t hack it in without several hours of work), and failure, as I’ve said, is a matter of dm discretion and whether they personally want to hinder you, which is something that’s honestly terrifyingly prevalent.

Also, in terms of longer campaigns, there’s no real structure to the game other than just an assumption that the numbers will get bigger, which is an incredibly false and boring way of attempting to raise stakes. Like, if your health has increased, AND your damage has increased, AND your ac has increased, AND all of those things have also increased for your enemies, what has actually changed in terms of how it feels to play the game? This is why so many people end up multi-classing, because it’s the only codified way to force some kind of lateral progression out of the game. Even then, nothing changes as you progress, except you’re maybe more terrified about killing off your own character in a way that you still have no control over, because again the character players have no control and are expected to just take it when they’re told something they don’t like. The attitude of ‘well, the dice said so’ is not a bad one, as long as you’re careful, but it’s acting as if the matter is out of the players’ hands, which is patently false; it’s a narrative that YOU are constructing, and you can and absolutely should make it a narrative that is safe for the people making and consuming it.

This comes back to the idea of ‘spontaneous and collaborative’. Dnd is viscerally opposed to any kind of actual working together, either between dm and character players, or between members of the party, but it’s also forcing the worst kind of spontaneity, in that ‘the dice said so’, while still codifying in advance everything you’re ‘allowed’ to try to do, and encouraging the dm to prep so hard that there’s nothing going on in the world that they don’t know about, which again puts all the onus on them for story- and world-building. You literally cannot do real collaboration if you have this attitude, and vice versa, you cannot have real spontaneity if you insist on setting yourself against the others.

Tl;dr: dnd is a game which goes out of its way to be hostile to the people playing it, and even when those people actively resist the competitive mechanics and culture, the story they end up making is just plain boring, and has a ton of unaddressed, unanalysed colonial baggage.

[paradife-loft]

Worth

Well, this intended to start out being for a prompt, but then.... I guess my brain decided that “Jiang Cheng and Jin Guangyao” was the actual real prompt and it didn’t have to incorporate any of the material from any of the days of the prompt lists. Whatever, I’m still gonna include it in my October fic series. I wrote it in October, after all... D: Also hey, it’s my first time writing Jiang Cheng! Hopefully he didn’t come out too poorly /o/

-----

When a-Ling had been checked over once more for injuries; the Jin servants disappeared upstairs to help put him to bed, and the innkeep paid for the meal and rooms, Jin Guangyao found himself unusually alone, in the waning candlelight, with Jiang Wanyin.

Despite the shock of more, wilier, and more unusual, elementals lurking around the mountain village than any of their information had prepared them for, he had no substantive signs of damage on him. The hardest blow he had presumably taken was the one to his pride, having to send a flare up for reinforcements when it turned out that a-Ling staying back in a secured area while Jiang Wanyin dealt with the ambush wasn’t going to work if their assumptions on what counted as safe couldn’t be fully trusted.

Even so, he seemed to have recovered admirably well by now, wiping down his sword from the sticky, hallucinogenic sap expelled as he carved a swathe through the engorged plant monsters, and no displeasure besides the usual evident in his face.

As the last of the Jin disciples filtered out of the room, Jiang Wanyin glanced up to Jin Guangyao, still waiting. His expression flickered, and then he sheathed Sandu and stood. Jin Guangyao smiled slightly.

“Please excuse this one borrowing another moment of Jiang-zongzhu’s time. I simply wished to impress explicitly once more, the Jin sect’s apologies for the unexpected encounter you and a-Ling had to suffer. We will of course not bear any fault from his care in mind, going forward.”

Jiang Wanyin’s brow furrowed, before he nodded, with a short “thank you.” His gaze flickered over Jin Guangyao’s comportment, lingering for a fraction longer on the sleeve where he’d drawn a hidden qin string from during the earlier battle, before piercing it through one of the elementals and using the vibrations from his hand to disrupt the creature’s spiritual energy, until it had practically dissolved into the earth.

“I was wondering where all that steel I saw in you at Qinghe went, once you put those Jin robes on,” Jiang Wanyin said a moment later. “Doesn’t seem like Jin-zongzhu makes as much use of you as he could, just having you greet guests and arrange banquet tables.”

Of all the things he’d expected him to say, that had not made the list. Jin Guangyao felt his stomach tense, and his face broke out into a brief flare of a smile, before he slid his gaze down and scraped the shape of his expression back from the cliff it felt like falling off of with the skin of his fingers. When he looked back up, he’d managed to return it, he hoped, to something more unremarkably thoughtful.

“I’m sure my father would appreciate any advice a fellow clan leader would have to give, next time you visit Koi Tower,” Jin Guangyao replied.

The look that emerged from Jiang Wanyin’s face after a few moments was, if nothing else, distinctly privately gratifying.

“Did a-Ling have any difficulties during the night-hunt, other than the unexpected numbers?” Jin Guangyao asked, after a few moments where neither of them spoke. Drawing his hands up in front of him, he set them together beneath the long drape of his sleeves. Jiang Wanyin shook his head at the new question, the furrow in his brow melting away slightly - until he’d returned to his ordinary level of prickliness - when he glanced up toward the stairs.

“No, he did well. I guess you Jins have been teaching him more than just fine manners and the history of all the cultivation lineages?”

Jin Guangyao inclined his head, letting the derisive implication slide past him. “We do take him and the other junior disciples on educational outings to our clan’s hunting grounds,” he said, patient and unruffled. It would do no harm to offer a few more drips of information to him, so clearly parched for any involvement in his young nephew’s education. “It allows them to observe the behavior of a wide variety of monsters, and the strategies our cultivators have developed to subdue them, all in relative safety - appropriate to each disciple’s age cohort, of course. If Sandu Shengshou has concerns, I could arrange a tour for him?”

Jiang Wanyin looked briefly surprised, and not for the first time, Jin Guangyao’s thoughts flashed to how much better he would do to learn to hide at least a fraction of his expressions. “Well, I mean, we’re all busy, I don’t want to get in the way for something trivial -”

“The satisfaction of a-Ling’s jiujiu in his education is of course not a trivial matter! It would be no trouble.”

(Or rather, it would; it would be yet another task added to his neverending list of them; but his father, he was quite sure, would have instructed him to extend the invitation if he were here, perhaps have him note a few minor suggestions Jiang Wanyin would wish them to make that wouldn’t have much true impact on the actual administration of the sect… Jin Guangyao found his own gaze wandering up toward the stairs to the inn’s second floor this time, and his emotions drifting in tandem toward envy of the small child now assuredly tucked into bed and, if his attendants were lucky, fast asleep - before he caught himself and fixed his eyes back onto Jiang-zongzhu’s face.)

Jiang Wanyin didn’t answer right away, looking at him consideringly for a few moments first. And then said, “Is that where you learned that trick with the elementals?”

“From the Jin sect hunting excursions?”

“Yeah.”

Jin Guangyao’s eyes flicked away from Jiang Wanyin’s, and he held his face still against the urge to bite at his bottom lip. The last time he’d been to the private hunting grounds outside Lanling, it had been to oversee and resolve a stock discrepancy. “Ah - not that one.”

“Oh? It’s pretty impressive, anyway. Not something I’ve seen.”

Jin Guangyao regarded him for a moment, contemplating what he knew of Jiang Wanyin’s own special techniques. His swordplay was widely-praised, of course, honed and matured on the bloody butcher’s floor of the Sunshot campaign; but his Zidian was an heirloom passed from Meishan Yu, rather than a relic directly chosen from the (now mostly-recovered) treasure chambers ensconced in Lotus Pier.

He smiled again. “Well, Yunmeng Jiang isn’t known for its musical cultivation techniques, if my experience hasn’t given a misrepresentative impression? Aside from your silver bells.”

And those were a rudimentary assay into the use of sound as a spiritual focus, certainly; but as far as making sound itself the instrument rather than a conductor alone, they didn’t approach the subtlety of even the children’s exercises taught by Gusu Lan. No, the Jiang sect’s unique strengths, aside from its once-head disciple, were sure to lie elsewhere.

But Jiang Wanyin looked back, his brows drawing up as if surprised, or not sure whether to be offended. “Most sects aren’t,” he replied. “Mostly, we focus on a strong grounding in the traditional disciplines, and plenty of practical experience - not so much specialisation in just one style.”

Which fit well with the easy popularity of the sect, allowing them to so effectively rebuild thus far, Jin Guangyao agreed. If what they wanted was for people to put in the work, and what they offered was more practical to the lives of the area’s villages than just the status that came with the prestigious possibility of secret techniques - not surprising that even now, they would do well.

And Jiang Wanyin, for all that the advantages of delicate political trades shirked him at a wide berth, was nonetheless dedicated to his work, and did not make frivolous demands of others while refusing to see them done himself.

“It’s a worthy philosophy,” Jin Guangyao finally returned - expression genial, even if his mood was no better. “A solid foundation is of course the most important basis for all later cultivation techniques.”

He paused, as if considering something, then added, “A-Ling would surely benefit from a longer period of time immersed in Lotus Pier’s training style, for that matter. Perhaps in a month or two, you might discuss it with my father? It would surely help maintain the strength of the bond between our sects.”

If Jiang-zongzhu had looked surprised before, it paled before the hopeful delight that spread, almost disbelieving, across his face this time. “Really? You think so?”

“Not immediately; it may be difficult for him to agree too soon after tonight. But with time and caution…” Jin Guangyao trailed off. An invitation for Jiang Wanyin, into the closed realm of private understanding and accordance created between them in doing so. Not that they were on any same side in truth; not with Jin Guangyao’s own responsibilities, which would be served just as well by Jiang Wanyin’s openness to being strung along even further in search of scraps. But everyone was flattered to think himself half of a closed mutual agreement - and it would not surprise him for Jiang Wanyin to be even moreso than others.

And indeed, he nodded, taking Jin Guangyao’s meaning well. He sobered, then, drawing himself up and letting one hand settle on the pommel of his sword, as if to reinforce in Jin Guangyao’s eyes the image of him as a capable, responsible leader of one of the four great sects.

But a moment after, he seemed to soften, handing over an expression nearly of gratitude with surprising ease. “Lianfang-zun,” he said. “Thank you for taking care of Jin Ling.”

The words settled over him like dust before sinking in, and Jin Guangyao’s eyes widened, just a fraction, despite himself. They were said with all apparent seriousness, and even so, he couldn’t help but look, instinctively, for the cutting implication the sentiment must have encased.

But he maintained his smile, empty, in the meantime; polished it with an almost demurring acceptance given only half of his attention. And at the end - he didn’t, or couldn’t, find anything truly objectionable about the gratitude to shred against the sharp skin of his soul. Jiang Wanyin, likewise ever sharp with his tongue on all other occasions, apparently meant it.

Jin Guangyao took a slow breath in, wavering in his lungs, and looked away.

[creativerogues]

CreativeRogues Discord Server Coming Soon! (Announcement + Q&A)

Yep, this is happening, I guess?

A CreativeRogues D&D Server is something I’ve been wanting to do for a while as I’ve been getting more and more comfortable running D&D Online through Discord.

I’ve always wanted to interact as much as I can with the Community, and I think this is the logical next step for us!

Now of course people will have questions, and I’ll try to answer all of them here, but if I don’t answer your question specifically, please leave a Comment or Reblog with @creativerogues so I’ll see it and try to answer it!

What to Expect...

They’ll be a General Chat Room for the Community to hang out in and message or talk to each other, as well as specific Rooms dedicated to things like easy Character Creation, and a DM Writer’s Room where DMs can share their ideas and get help from other DMs to create an even richer experience and create even better stories with help from the Community!

Games will be ran on a Schedule (To Be Determined!) and will run as often as possible, since life can get in the way sometimes...

We’re also planning to make Rooms dedicated to the different Tiers of play, so you don’t have to play a Character from Level 1 all the way to Level 20, simply tell us what kinda Game you’re looking for!

So how will this work?

You can join the server as a Casual, a Player or a DM. 

If you feel like you wanna play in a Game or DM a Game, simply put the word out and we’ll do our best to make a Game available for you!

Can I have @creativerogues as a DM?

Depending on my availability, I’ll be running Games for people in the Community that want to play, putting together groups of like-minded Players and setting up Campaigns: Some Campaigns may only be a Oneshot or a Short Adventure, some may span weeks or even months if the Players truly do want that.

But they’ll be more than just me there, they’ll be other fantastic DMs out there willing to run Oneshots, Short Adventures or even a whole Campaign for members of the Community, but we ask that you please be patient while we sort out the kinks!

What “Setting” are we playing in?

Well that’s up to you! 

You can play in an Official Setting such as Forgotten Realms or Eberron, or if you’re a DM you can set up a group within your own homebrew setting, or you can work with other DMs in the Community to make an inter-connected world spanning multiple campaigns and adventures, the possibilities are endless!

What “Edition” are we playing in?

It’ll almost certainly always be 5th Edition unless an overwhelming number of people request for games in other Editions.

How do I join?

We’ll be putting out an invite to a few close and long-time members of the Community first to test things out, but once everything is set up, simply send a Message asking to join and boom! 

Now for the “Fun” Part!

If you want to play a Game, you’ll need to know how I run my own Games!

Now I’m no Big Time Online Dungeon Master, but I do have a way of doing things that tries to get you from starting as a Player to actually playing in a Game as quickly as possible.

Below I’ve put a big ol’ (and somewhat intimidating, I will admit) Template for a wannabe Player to fill in the blanks, hopefully making the process quick and easy for a DM to pick your Character up and plop them into a Game as quickly as possible.

Character Template

Discord Name: We’ll need this for Reference.

Character Name: What’s your Character called, or what Name(s) do they go by?

Race: What Race is your Character?

Sub-Race: If your Character’s chosen Race has multiple Sub-races, which one are they?

Class: What Class is your Character? What kind of role do you want them to play?

Subclass: What Archetype is your Character?

Background: What did your Character do before they became an Adventurer?

Origin: What Environment was your Character born or raised in?

Alignment: What Alignment is your Character?

Equipment: What Equipment does your Character want or have on their person?

Appearance: What does your Character look like physically? What colour eyes do they have? Is their hair short or long, curly or wavy, and what colour is it? All these things and more... 

Outfit: What is your Character most commonly seen wearing?

Age: How old is your Character? (Minimum Age is 18)

Build (Height & Weight): Is your Character short, stocky, tall, slim or something in between?

Distinguishing Marks: What’s the first thing someone notices about your Character? A scar? A tattoo? A piercing or item of clothing they always wear?

Backstory: Whether tragic or happy, this describes the important events in your Character’s life before the real adventures begin!

Character Goal: What does your Character want to achieve before the end of the Game? Do they want to be a Ruler? Or become an Archmage? Maybe they just want to reunite with lost loved ones? That’s up to you!

You may notice some things that aren’t on your standard Character Sheet, such as Origin or Distinguishing Marks:

Origin is the Environment that your Character was born and raised in, and I’ll provide a list of examples below:

Arctic: A snowy Tundra or Frozen Wasteland.

Coastal: Port Towns, Beaches, Seaside Cities, Etc.

Desert: Sand Dunes, Dry Hot Wastelands, Etc.

Green-lands: Forests, Grasslands, Hills, Swamps, Jungles, Etc.

Mountains: Mountains, Volcanoes, Valleys, Cliff-side Cities, Etc.

Under-dark: Underground.

Urban: An In-Land City, Trade Centre, Capitol City, Etc.

Otherworldly: Another Plane of Existence, such as the Feywild, Shadowfell, Elemental Planes, etc.

Other: Anywhere that does not fit into the other Environments. (Maybe your Character lives in a series of Underwater Caverns, or on a Floating City, or maybe they were born and raised on a Sailing Ship, all good examples.)

This lets Myself and other DMs place your Character in an appropriate part of the World!

In addition to all the Character Creation Stuff going on for when Games are up and running, we’ll need to know a bit more about you!

What kinda games do you like? Do you like disabling traps and solving puzzles? Do you like exploring the world and role-playing? Or do you prefer combat and fighting monsters?

The objective is to have fun playing D&D, so let us know what makes D&D fun for you!

Is this a lot of work upfront? Maybe. But in the long term it means you should be able to request a Game, bring a Character Sheet, and drop into the Game as smoothly as possible.

Sidenote: I know I’ll be asked this, but Homebrew Content is entirely up to the Dungeon Master that’ll be running your Games, if you want to use Homebrew Material or 3rd Party Resources, that’s a conversation to be had between you and the DM.

Reminder: This is all in Testing!

Things will be clunky at first, that’s for certain, things will go wrong and be awkward and we hope you’ll be patient with us while we sort it all out!

I can’t wait to play a Game with you lovely people, but yeah, CreativeRogues out!