#really enjoying this ask game

[mothandpidgeon]

Mothy! 13, 25, 39 for your movie asks! (now I gotta hear all the good opinions!)

Let's do it!

13. do you have a favorite film in another language?

I want to be a basic bitch and say Amelie but it's probably Parasite. That movie is sooo good. Chilling, visually stunning, capturing the zeitgeist. I felt absolutely sick the first time I watched it.

Also want to point out that one of my favorite films Inglorious Basterds isn't technically a foreign language film but most of it is in German and French so idk I get to mention it.

25. how many physical movies do you own?

I literally don't know. I don't own any phsycial media anymore but I haven't touched a DVD in a minute. I do own a lot of movies digitally but I couldn't say. RIP to the young me taht used to woo the film school boys with the DVD collection on the windowsill of my dorm room.

39. in your opinion what is the most underrated movie?

Well I mentioned To Be or Not To Be already. I do think that's highly underrated. But I will also give a shout out to The Sound of My Voice (2011). I think Brit Marling is brilliant and if you like cult stuff (you know i do), this film and The East (2013) are so so good.

Send me a movie ask!

[zara-renata]

Hi, I write fanfiction about Love and Deepspace. Currently Sylus-dominant (heh), although I love and appreciate most of the LIs. Full summaries and tags are in each link.

The Sylus series

Part 1 Alike and cornered beast, Sylus's POV | ao3

I was desperate for Sylus's point of view during the first time that MC meets him in the Alike and Cornered Beast chapters of Long-Awaited Revelry. I wanted to know why he touches MC so reverently but also quite brutally, so I spent a lot of time thinking about possibilities and this is the result.

Part 2 Roleplay, undercurrents, and rising curtain, Sylus's POV | ao3

MC has PTSD from chapter 4 (you know the one), and no one can convince me otherwise, so I re-wrote the auction bits from Sylus's POV to fix this grievous oversight, because I am also firmly convinced he is a champ at handling MC's trauma.

Part 3 No way out, revised | ao3

I thought that MC was too mean to Sylus in his 4 star No Way Out card, and I didn't like it, so I fixed it. I mean, I rewrote how it went like a proper rabid fan.

Part 4 Datura tea, or how all you want is to get some sleep | ao3

You're suffering from insomnia due to untreated PTSD (probably, I don't know, I'm not a doctor or a therapist) from your family getting, well, exploded, and the longer this goes on, the sloppier you become in combat and just existing, and a bad idea is born.

Part 5 Sylus gets a headache | ao3

Sylus has secured the promise from you that he can use your place as a safe house if he's in the area and needs it. Sylus's definition of "need", it turns out, might be different than your own, as illustrated by the first time he shows up unannounced at your door.

Part 6 Wine time with Sylus | ao3

Sylus invites himself over, helps himself to your first aid kit and your kitchen, manipulates you into tasting wine with him, discusses his latest business venture, and gifts you more than one present before he's good and ready to finally leave.

Part 7 Sylus's guide to hiring, or Wine time with Sylus: his POV | ao3

Sylus mulls over all the data he has managed to collect regarding his sweet little hunter so far, and spends some time considering mistakes he's made and his plans for the future. He also hires a new employee and is required to teach the twins to mind their manners in front of guests he's trying to intimidate.

Part 8 Not my type | ao3

Sylus pesters you on your day off while you're at the arcade until you agree to "lend your talents" to him for the evening. So of course you show up at the designated location only to discover it's a nightclub, and you're dressed for a murder, but not on the dance floor.

Control: a Sylus series interlude | ao3

You are feeling a bit depressed after completing a mission that didn't go 100% the way you wanted. Mephisto, and then Sylus, pay you a visit to cheer you up.

Part 10 Sylus makes a deal | ao3

Sylus answers some questions, receives dating advice from a dubious source, makes a deal you can't refuse, receives a birthday invitation, and plans to take you home for the night.

Part 11 Even the rocks on the roadside in the N109 Zone could tell | ao3

Sylus makes one final miscalculation. You wake up from a nightmare in a place you weren't ready to revisit. Sylus has to reckon with the inevitable consequences of how he treated you when you first met him, but you're paying the higher price.

Part 12 Even the rocks on the roadside - Sylus's POV | ao3

Sylus tries to get some paperwork done in his office while you sleep. He receives a call that turns his night upside down and makes him regret some strategic choices he's made up until this point in conquering your heart.

Part 13 Q&A with Sylus Qin | ao3

Sylus cares for your injuries and feeds you a meal. After he shows you a part of his home that you didn't know existed, you finally ask him why he was so cruel to you when you first met him. Sylus does his best to answer with as much honesty as he can right now.

Part 14 How you learned to stop worrying and embrace Sylus Qin | ao3

Sylus reveals his latest little plot and makes you an offer that you ultimately can't refuse. More lying around talking in different beds with Sylus Qin.

Part 15 The dream, the tie, the tour, the dream | ao3

You have a good dream, get a guided tour of Onychinus's base by the chaos twins, talk yourself into being sad again, and then have another good dream

Creature Feature with Sylus Qin | ao3

You and Sylus dress up for a Halloween gala. This is a short little Sylus series interlude, occurring after these idiots finally get together.

Part 16 The right hand, the left hand, the heart of Sylus Qin | ao3

Sylus meets with his legal counsel while the twins give you a tour of the base, you wake up from a dream, Sylus wastes some eggs, you attempt to get to know Sylus better, and you have your first 'date' with Sylus Qin.

One Shots

Sleepy time with Xavier | ao3

You suffer from chronic fatigue and worry that Xavier is only placating you when he says it's fine on the occasions you're too exhausted to follow through on plans together. On one such bad day, he reassures you in a way that you can no longer doubt.

[seiwas]

sellllllll it's meeeeee. hehehehehehehehehhehe

so for ur writing exercises.... deku + light? please? pretty please?

:3c

heheh heheh hehe niku. this will be the death of me. me writing izuku for the first time 🥲 i will only do this for you </3

contains: established relationship, spoilers for the end of the manga, aged up deku but sometime in between the final outcome (he doesn't get the h*** s*** from bakugo yet), mentions of sex and scars

deku + light

izuku only sleeps with the lights off.

it isn't uncommon; many people you know can't sleep with even just a sliver of light turned on somewhere in the room. but the difference with izuku, you learn, is not that he's unable to stand the light―it's that he refuses to.

you quickly pick up on it the first few times he sleeps over.

he fidgets in bed, pretty badly, actually. the nightlight you sleep with glows a warm yellow, illuminating the side of your face and coating him in its afterglow. you chalk it up to nerves, how he pulls at his sleeves and adjusts his position constantly; he is, after all, one of the most anxious people you know.

and this relationship―it's new. heck, even you feel a little jittery with his arm wrapped around you.

the rhythmic tapping on your hip only increases pace. you don't think he realizes it, so your hand gently reaches for his, intertwining your fingers as you turn around in his arms.

he's close, nearly touching you nose-to-nose; the proximity leaves you fuzzy, a little ticklish, so you giggle, a soft "oops," as the freckles dusting his face almost glisten under the warm light.

"hi," you whisper, meeting his eyes; they stare back at you wide in surprise, "can't sleep?"

he looks almost guilty at your question, as if you’ve caught him with the one thing he's been trying to keep from you.

"just—" his voice comes out louder than intended, prompting him to chuckle nervously as he readjusts his volume, "just winding down, sorry."

you inch closer, nuzzling his nose lightly, "it's okay."

"did i wake you?" he asks, cheeks flushing pink as his eyebrows furrow in immediate concern. his expression is something caught between stifling a grin and feeling sorry.

you shake your head against the pillow you share, strands of your hair tangling with his. "just winding down," you tease, watching as his gaze turns softer, eyelids drooping heavier.

sometimes, you think, izuku holds the world in his eyes―a deep, dark green, the color of life. most times, they look at you with wonderment, bright and alive; photos from inko tell you they're the eyes of his inner child.

on nights like this one, however, they hide a depth in them weighted by what you can only assume is time, and all that has happened to him in such a short span of it.

you try your best to understand what lies beneath them, knowing full well he'll never tell you outright what truly bothers him.

"is it the light?" you bring up, some time after laying in silence.

"hm?" he clarifies.

"do you have a hard time sleeping with the nightlight?"

his eyes widen briefly once more, as if shocked that you've caught him again. these split second reactions are ones you've learned to be attentive to when it comes to izuku.

"no," he tries to lie, but you know better as you turn to your nightstand and reach for its switch, "you don't–"

"it was hurting my eyes," you quickly make up an excuse, tucking yourself closer under his chin as you cut off his attempt to deny it again.

finding out that the light was the problem was the easy part—

you'd begun to notice much earlier on that izuku was barely rested on the nights he'd spend at your place. it was only when your old nightlight broke that you began to notice him waking up much later than you did, groggily rousing from a deep sleep.

—what was hard, was figuring out why.

at first, you suspected it was his scars.

"s-sorry, it's not—" he'd warned you, right as your hands gripped the hem of his shirt the first time you were about to have sex, "—it's not nice."

you didn't care though; you still don't care, and you've made that abundantly clear to him since. you love izuku and all his parts―all the nicks and jaggedy pieces of skin that make up who he is.

when you eventually ask him about it, with a request that he be honest with you for once, he tells you that it is and it isn't―the reason why he exclusively sleeps with the lights off, that is.

it's an odd, comforting relationship he has with his body—that he is simultaneously grateful and sorry for how its become a canvas, both painted and marred to symbolize japan’s historic last stand.

you find out the real reason when you catch him staring at his hands.

he does it often, when he thinks you aren't looking—his fists bunched up in the same way he used to watch the power of one for all course through his fingertips; the same way he used to prepare them in battle.

there’s a faraway look in his eyes that lingers, you notice—a little wistful if anything.

“do you miss it?” you finally ask. he gives you the same shocked look he does every time, as if he’s been caught with a secret he’s been trying to hide.

he’s learned a fair bit about you now, too, though—lying to you is futile when you’ve perfected reading his truth. he stares at his fists again as you take a seat beside him, moving to give you space. you rest your head on his shoulder gently, waiting.

“sometimes,” he admits, but you know it’s an understatement.

“i think about the vestiges a lot. i miss them the most, i think,” he continues, clenching his fists tightly, “i always try to reach out to them, but i guess it doesn’t work that way.”

“i�� i try to replicate the right conditions every night, but…” then he lets go, stretching his fingers out wide. the scars on the surface ripple through his skin, telling its own story.

you hum, acknowledging what he means. silence sits with the two of you as you take his hand in yours, slowly unfurling his fingers until his palm reveals itself to you. it’s rough to the touch, seasoned with hard work and all that he’s been through.

“is that why you prefer the dark?” you ask softly, after some time.

it's not often that you stay up later than izuku does. when you do though, you catch him shifting in bed, moving from side-to-side. you pretend you aren't awake, but you hear him mumble their names, dwindling in volume as he dozes off to sleep.

he stares at his palm for a moment before he admits quietly, "yeah." his brows furrow as if contemplating whether to say more, but he shakes his head, dark green strands swaying to the beat of his embarrassed chuckle, "nevermind, it's silly."

"it's not."

you intertwine your fingers, sandwiching his hand between yours. a slight sheen glosses over his eyes as he tilts his head up to look at you. he draws in a breath, before it spills over.

"it's..." he finds the words, and you squeeze his hand in comfort, "it's easier to believe it was all real when the lights are out, and that maybe it can happen again."

[whilomm]

oh okay heres one:

"sleepaway camp"= you go there for at least a few days, a week, sometimes several weeks, and sleep there, as opposed to a """camp""" where you go for the day and your parents or whoever picks you up afterward (those arent really camps, but like. idk when i went to "space camp" it was a weeklong but not sleepaway). in the U.S. at least, the typical image of a sleepaway camp involves staying in cabins, dunno how common it is/what it looks like in other countries.

for the first few i just mean like. not necessarily a stealth church camp, just like. idk, a camp where theres also an Assumption Of Christianity and just general vibes without being actually church camp. So, there might not be daily services and jesusy dedicatwd activities, but maybe theres still a prayer said over meals and shit. Which i assume might exist...

(oh and @reblogforsamplesize if u wanna)

[berrysquared]

for the fanon swap could i see warden gem ?

[dvrcos]

The foxes as different variations of “women want me, fish fear me” hats

(I fell down a rabbit hole of weird hats on Pinterest so you have to deal with it)

First, the classic is the one and only Matt Boyd

The reverse is Nicky Hemmick

Aaron Minyard, taking things a bit to literal my boy

Neil Jostens FBI fake person

Kevin ‘Son of Exy’ Day

Andrew Minyard literature nerd

Dan Wilds and you really should fear her

Renee Walker the slightly intimidating and off putting love of my life

Allison Reynolds and her legal team

[antirepurp]

delivering controversial takes to the "the gang plays minecraft" discussion

[nydescynt]

Thematic Analysis of Hades II: Why You Can Never Go Home

(At some point I might make a video on this, but for now sharing my thoughts via textpost. Spoilers ahead!)

So the text of the story of Hades and Hades 2 are Zagreus breaking out of the House, and Melinoë breaking in.

But the wild thing (and the reason Hades 2 is much more interesting to me) is that both games actually have almost inverted themes from that text. Zagreus is intent on uniting a household; Melinoë is discovering the home she's fought to return to is rotten to the core.

Zagreus, despite his entire textual goal being to leave his home and family, is narratively & thematically working to bring the family and household together. His mother comes back and is reunited not just with him but her husband, mother, and entire extended family. Achilles and Patrocles, Orpheus and Eurydice, Asterion and Theseus: Hades is a story of people metaphorically coming home and making peace with where they are (Sisyphus, Thanatos, Orpheus). Everyone basically gets a happy ending, credits roll, problems all resolved or en route to be solved. Everyone is home.

(Important to note: we never see a human in the first game. We see shades, and gods, and monsters, and the closest you get to a mortal living thing is the satyrs. This is a story concerned with the realm of the gods.)

In contrast, Melinoë has no home - besides being estranged from her childhood home, she literally lives in a tent. In case the theme was too subtle, presumably.

Now, she has been fighting her entire life to become powerful enough to return home and reclaim her family - that seems Zagreus-adjacent on its face. However, there isn't a home to return to- Hades is in shackles, the rest of her family trapped in time. At this point in Early Access, on both a metatextual & diegetic level she quite literally can neither make it to Mt Olympus or into Zagreus' room - she cannot go home, she cannot meet her family.

Consider the others: Odysseus' presence seems to tie into the idea of a long journey home, but this is an Odysseus who lived and died and now has other (inhuman) priorities. He loves them, but has no interest in reuniting with Penelope and Telemachus at this point. Nemesis dislikes her siblings, and is more concerned with the equal application of "justice" than whether it has any reforming effect. Narcissus and Echo eventually talk and part more amicably, but that's the best that can be said about their relationship.

Hecate refuses to be called Melinoë's mother: she will not distract from the "true" family that Melinoë has no memory of ever meeting.

Instead of Ares and Dionysus (enjoyers of chaos and least affected by the toxicity of the family in Hades 1) we have Hestia and Hephaestaus- a goddess who helped murder her father and a god constantly belittled by his own family. Their tense and frequently bitter interactions with the other Olympians are evocative of the central theme being explored: what if there isn't a home to go back to? What if your family is unforgivable? (What if you want to forgive them anyways? What if you need to?)

This theme is why Arachne is in the game, and Athena is not: likeable, first-helper-of-Zagreus Athena turned Arachne into a spider out of petty anger. How do you reconcile that?

Moros (lovely, kind Moros, who gushes at Odysseus like a fanboy) and his sisters the Fates did horrible things to mortals out of boredom. The same mortals whose bodies you can see stacked up like cordwood in Ephyra, who you repeatedly claim you are fighting to protect from Chronos. Moros can neither confirm nor deny that the current events could have been set in motion by the Fates. How do you reconcile that?

Polyphemus raises sheep. He genuinely loves and cares for them, is protective of them. He also eats them, and is confused when Melinoë implies a contradiction.

How can you love someone and be willing to kill them? For survival? For fleeting satisfaction? For vengeance?

Is Chronos' willingness to eat his children so morally heinous that it makes him worse than every cruelty the gods have wrought? Worse for who?

[queer-lovebot]

any Andreil getting jealous over Kevin hcs

I feel like Neil would be very possessive and Andrew would get jealous

OH THIS IS FUNNN. You see I think it’s the complete opposite! I feel like Neil is more jealous while Andrew is knowingly possessive. Andrew doesn’t care who Kevin’s with as long as he comes home, and as long as everyone knows Andrew is always there. Watching. Lurking. Andrew will always be one of Kevin’s boys and he is NOT scared to flaunt that.

Neil, however, needs Kevin’s attention on him at all times. He and Kevin are twin flames and Neil is really annoying about it. “Kevin, wanna learn a new pass? Recorded the match between the Banshees and the Birds if you want to watch it, Kevin.” He hates when Kevin offers to train other players and tries to be so normal. Yes, he did hear Kevin say an up and coming player on the opposite team is promising. No, he is Not going to target them. He’s mature. (Lying)

If Kevin is being flirted with at the club, Andrew is more likely to place a hand on his waist or by his pulse point. Possessive. Showing that he will always have Kevin’s attention. Neil, however, is running that smart mouth and giving death glares.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Just wanted to say I’m really enjoying the game dev stuff you are sharing! It looks super neat and I’m excited to see what you guys make :3 it also really inspires me to try learning something new, so thanks for sharing the journey with us 😊

Thank you so much! I've been having a blast with the process, and I can't wait to keep showing off more of this project!

When it comes to trying something new; my words of advice are: Go make the thing you 'wish you were skilled enough to do'!!! You will surprise yourself!

[seiwas]

for writing game, iwaizumi + assistance <3

hope this sparks some inspo and thank you in advancee

hi there!! thanks for sending in a prompt 🫶

contains: friends to lovers (ish), halloween parties, reader is dressed as catwoman, expletives, iwaizumi is thiiiiis 🤏 close to murdering seijoh4 (jk)

iwaizumi + assistance

this is a set-up.

iwaizumi knows he shouldn't have fucking believed anything the boys "promised" him back when they assigned him this costume.

the suit is fucking tight, spandex digging into his groins and all other crevices that definitely should be aired out after after a few hours. he's had to constantly readjust his stance almost every few minutes, the black fabric compressing his thighs and torso, significantly constricting the range of motion his shoulders and arms are typically used to. if anything else, it could double up as a back brace from how rigidly straight it's kept his posture all night.

he'll give it to makki though; he did outdo himself sourcing this year's costumes―this batman set looks pretty damn legit.

except for one tiny problem.

there's no fucking pee hole. it's a zip-up, zip-down one-piece situation. and that normally wouldn't be a problem, except that oikawa "accidentally" knocked over a cocktail straight into his pants, the sickeningly sweet liquid now seeping straight into the fabric and past his boxers―cold and sticky as it touches his skin.

and so, the problem: his pants are wet, it makes him want to fucking pee, and coincidentally, the only vacant bathroom is across the hall, at your apartment.

this is why he believes this is a set up. that, and the fact that you're dressed in an outfit strikingly similar―just with cat ears.

he's been asked five times in this party if you're in matching couple outfits.

it catches him off guard, flusters him because of how badly he wants to say yes. but, you're just friends, and he doesn't even think you like him that way (despite mattsun and oikawa practically begging him to confess. makki tells him he thinks you're going to do it first).

so he politely smiles and says no, but you look good, your costume clinging to you in all the right places. thank fucking god he has a cape because he's pretty sure he spent the first 30 minutes in the party hiding his boner.

"hajime, it's fine, i swear," you stand beside him in front of the conveniently locked bathroom in oikawa's apartment. from the other side of the door, he's pretty sure he hears mattsun and his girlfriend mumbling. maybe fucking? who knows. "you can just use the bathroom in my apartment."

he glances at you before closing his eyes, contemplating, before finally agreeing to you.

"okay."

if he's being honest with himself, friends is definitely an incomplete label to what you are. as oikawa's neighbor, you are conveniently around all the time; and oikawa being oikawa, the ever-social butterfly, he's somehow managed to carve a space for you in the friend group.

(never mind the fact that oikawa's sniffed him out from the moment he first introduced you.)

you were a crush, then a friend, and now you're someone he picks up from work and drives back home three times a week, because he "has to train oikawa." you don't question it, even when you both know he stays over for dinner way past the gym's open hours.

"you know where it is," you open your apartment and urge him in.

"sorry again," he turns to face you.

"yeah, yeah, just pee!" you laugh, shoving him towards the bathroom door.

getting out of the suit is manageable, and he's able to wipe off a bit of the cocktail that's leaked to the suit and his boxers just to make sure it isn't gross and sticky when he gets home later. peeing is a big relief once he gets it over with, but it's when he has to suit up again that things become difficult.

stretching out the spandex one body part at a time is a workout in itself―the hardest task being when he has to pull it over his shoulders, adjusting it to fit properly over his arms and chest.

but then the zipper breaks.

and he truly thinks makki has fucked him over.

iwaizumi contemplates what to do next for a good, good while. he tries calling oikawa, only to no success every time; no way in hell is he calling mattsun in the middle of having sex. and calling makki isn't even an option; he'd never hear the end of it.

then you knock on the door, your voice soft and concerned as you ask, "hajime? you good in there?" you hit it spot on, too, "do you need help with your suit?"

iwaizumi presses his palms to his eyes. he's a rational man, straightforward and logical in thinking. there is literally no other option for him right now but to ask help from you. again.

fuck.

.

it's 30 minutes later when oikawa barges in your door, and the sight that greets him is iwaizumi in nothing but a hoodie (the hoodie you borrowed some time ago) and his boxers, with his hands on your waist as you hover your hairdryer over the crotch of his batman costume―cat headpiece off and all.

"you finally got together?!"

[blackjackkent]

Ask prompt fill for @astreamofstars for this ask meme: Questioning Sentences, Vol. 33 Jaheira/Khalid - "Are you getting my wife into trouble?" Like I said - I had a more comedic idea for this which I'll probably also write, but here's some Harper-era dramafluff first. :D

-----

The blade presses low and tight against the curve of Jaheira’s neck. The assassin smiles coldly. “Not so tough now, are ya, Harper?” he hisses.

Jaheira remains perfectly still, her eyes flicking around rapidly as she examines her position. 

The assassin is a sallow half-elf whose ice-blue eyes are almost obscured by the overhang of his hood. His dark cloak melds him with the shadowy night around them; Jaheira can see the subtle outline of a winged serpent embroidered in his tunic. Zhentarim, then.

She should really have been expecting this, in light of the smuggling operation they just broke up near Waterdeep. It was the largest nest of Zhent they've rooted out in some time and (she sincerely hopes) crippled the group’s slaving operations for the immediate future - but a noise that big doesn't go unnoticed by the sort of people who have sharp knives and are ready to use them. 

And this Zhent knows his business, that’s certain. His weight is carefully distributed across his feet while keeping her pinned to the tree behind her, and the knife is positioned to give her little room to maneuver. He deliberately waited until she had no energy left for a wildshape, and even if she did, she’s not confident her enemy wouldn't be anticipating it. Her pulse quickens with sudden adrenaline as the reality of the danger sets in.

“You have the advantage of me, it seems,” she says, deliberately keeping her voice even and conversational so as not to betray any fear.

The man's smirk deepens unpleasantly. “That's the idea. We know all about ya, y'know… Jaheira. Know ya put together that raid on our people last week. So I've got some payment I need t’ extract.”

If she can just get leverage with one leg, she twist out of his grip… but no. He senses the shift of her weight and moves almost automatically to counterbalance it, his knee shoving against her hip. 

She sighs and swivels her head carefully, trying to look past his shoulder. 

He snorts. “What're ya lookin’ for, girlie?” he asks mockingly. “Gonna call down a flock of birds? Like I said - we know all about you. Why d'you think I chose this moment t’ drop in? I know you do your scouting alone.”

One of Jaheira's eyebrows quirks up and she finally can't help it. She grins. 

“Your information is out of date,” she says.

The Zhent's eyes bug wide and he cries out in startled pain as a heavy boot kicks the back of his knee, staggering him off-balance, followed by a gauntleted sucker punch at the small of his back that stuns him briefly to immobility. Khalid, surging out of the darkness, gets one arm around the man's neck and yanks him backwards; with his other hand, he strikes the Zhent's wrist, knocking the dagger out of his hand. 

“Oh, my,” he says as he hauls the Zhent backwards, giving Jaheira room to slip free of the wall. His voice is almost casual - but Jaheira knows him far too well to be fooled. She can hear the ice in it, and the way his usual nervous stammer has hardened out in the moment of crisis. “Are you getting my wife into trouble?” 

Jaheira snorts. “Getting himself into trouble, more like,” she says, dusting herself off. “Once again we are underestimated.” She clicks her tongue with mock-disappointment. “The last time he will make that mistake.”

“Let me go!” the Zhent growls, his voice strangled by the pressure of Khalid's arm on his throat; the stunned moment is fading and he starts to struggle fiercely in Khalid's grip. 

“As you wish,” Khalid says mildly. With a sharp jerk, he releases the other man and at the same time twists sideways so they're facing each other. Before the Zhent has time to react, Khalid lands a punch directly between his eyes; his head snaps back and he goes over like a felled tree, hits the dirt, and is still. 

Silence, and then the chirp and buzz of insects reasserts itself around them. Jaheira relaxes with a low chuckle. “Well struck.”

“Are you hurt, m-my love?” Khalid asks, turning to face her. His eyes trace searchingly over her from head to foot, looking for signs of injury. 

She smiles affectionately, hearing his stammer return as the moment eases. “I am fine. He had no chance to truly strike me. Besides…” She scoffs dramatically.” I could have handled him.”

“I've n-n-no doubt of it, Khalid says earnestly. “All the same, I'm g-glad I was here.”

“As am I.” In spite of her airy manner, the pulse of adrenaline still sits heavy in her throat, and she takes a few steps closer to him automatically, slipping her hand into his. The warmth of his palm is grounding, comforting. “Much easier with two.”

He lifts her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. Then he crouches down to begin rifling through the unconscious man's pockets. She raises an eyebrow, seeing that he is grinning giddily to himself as he does so. 

“And just what is that look for?” she asks, amused. 

His head ducks and he gives a sheepish little chuckle that is just this side shy of a giggle. “M-my wife,” he says. “That was the f-f-first time I c-could call you m-m-my wife on a mission.” He looks up at her, his eyes bright and dancing in the dimness. “It f-f-felt wonderful.”

The adoring expression on his face sends a full-body shiver through her. “It did, didn't it?” she murmurs. 

It's still so new, with the wedding only a week behind them. In many ways nothing has changed, but that strange and everpresent delight still lingers in the back of her mind. And it spikes up in little bursts at the oddest times - a word, a glance, a touch, anything that reminds her that the bond is made and she has him for the rest of their lives. 

She ruffles his hair where it peeks from beneath his helmet at the base of his neck, and is gratified to feel his subtle, eager squirm at the touch. “Well then, my husband,” she says with a soft laugh. “Let us get back to camp. Though what a pity we must have an unexpected guest interrupting our privacy for the evening.” She nudges the unconscious Zhent with her boot toe and rolls her eyes. 

“Of all his c-c-crimes, that is surely the m-most grievous,” Khalid says, and laughs. 

[moeblob]

Hey so I have to inform you all because I am morally and legally obligated to inform people about this movie -

I have told you before that Clue (1985) was available on Amazon Prime and today I have even better news. I don't know when it was added BUT ! it's FREE TO WATCH (with ads) ON YOUTUBE !

Also it's my favorite movie (this doesn't matter I just have to say it).

Also also just because I found this out five minutes ago it was released on Dec 13, 1985. Which was a Friday. A movie about a board game about murder released on Friday the 13th ? Truly a move of all time.

EDIT: Someone wanted to know if you can watch it with adblock on and hey! You can! (I have watched it problem free)

[necrotic-nephilim]

"Can you two manage not to tear each other apart while I'm gone?"

Bruce, Jason, and Tim (With JayTim or maybe even BruJayTim)

send a quote and a ship and I'll write a short fic!

god, this one was so good. so, you get the catch-22 of this being a bit longer, 4.5k, but with the warning, i have not edited it so it might be a little rough. but the whole point of this is quick fun so! this is basically Tim and Jason trying to kill each other bc they're under the influence of a toxin. both have a relationship with Bruce and are mad about it. it does end in some short JayTim porn and an implied BruJayTim ending. you could argue dub-con, but it's mostly consensual. enjoy <3

Tim honestly would’ve preferred if it was fear toxin or Joker venom.

Those, he at least knew the tricks for dealing with. How to keep his heart rate down, how to focus and not give in to his body’s adrenaline response. And even if none of those failed, the worst of the fear toxin was just something Tim could wait out while playing distracting music.

This was different.

Anger was different.

“It looks like someone took Crane’s compound and modified it,” Bruce, the lucky bastard who had managed not to inhale the substance, was stood perfectly calm in front of the Batcomputer. “It’s difficult to tell though without a direct sample.”

“If you would just let me look at it maybe we could get somewhere,” Tim hissed through grit teeth, aiming a lethal scowl at Bruce. His nails were digging into his palm. He frowned and tried to take a break. “I’m sorry.”

Bruce looked over his shoulder at Tim with concern and pity. “Are you sure you don’t want to be tranquilized until I synthesize the cure?”

“Bruce, if you try to get close enough to tranq me, I’ll probably try to rip your larynx out with my teeth,” Tim said. The itch for violence sat right underneath his fingertips. He was desperate for it, already twitching at the thought.

Logic and reasoning were hard to hold onto. Every straight thought Tim had was immediately consumed by the fire of fury, burned into something unrecognizable.

Tim didn’t feel like himself when he was angry. That was the worst part. He never liked his anger before and now, it was the only part of him on display. An ugly and twisted thing.

“He could just shoot you with a tranq dart,” Jason said smoothly. “I’d pay to see it.”

Jason was also affected by the rage toxin, though compared to Tim, he looked barely bothered. His head was tilted back to rest against the back of his chair, eyes closed. Both hands were in his lap, fingers calmly laced. His hands were forced together by the same cuffs that Tim was also wearing. Tim had suggested the cuffs when he tried to claw out Bruce’s eyes because Bruce put a hand on his shoulder. Despite Jason’s lack of reaction, it was universally decided to also put Jason in the cuffs. The handcuffs were chained to the chairs Tim and Jason were sitting in, with at least six feet’s distance between them so they couldn’t try to grab each other.

Which Tim had done at least a half a dozen times by now.

“If you’re not going to have helpful input you can keep your goddamn mouth shut,” Tim snapped, holding himself still in the chair from trying to launch across the room again. His muscles were so tense from clenching them that he was starting to shake.

“Tim,” Bruce said softly, giving him a look. Bruce was perfectly fine if Tim snapped at him. But when Tim snapped at Jason, he got a stern reprimand.

Which only pissed Tim off more.

He didn’t understand how he was fine with Bruce sleeping with both of them now. The thought was ridiculously enraging, how he could allow Bruce to even be around Jason Todd. It usually didn’t bother Tim, and was one of the things Tim accepted about Bruce. The lack of monogamy.

But now? Staring at Jason’s smug face that Tim itched to break? It made Tim’s blood boil.

He was more important and useful to Bruce than Jason could ever be. And Tim didn’t have a pile of bodies on his ledger. He actually knew he to behave like a person and not a wild animal.

Ironic how they looked now, then.

Jason’s face split into a feral grin. He leaned forward. “Yeah, Tim,” his tone mocked the one Bruce used. “Let’s behave ourselves.”

Tim could see it in Jason’s eyes. How angry he was, how he was holding back everything that Tim couldn’t. His little show was a facade and Tim damn well knew it.

He wanted to rip Tim apart just as badly.

Now it was Jason who Bruce gave the look to. “This is easier for you to control than it is for him, Jason. Don’t try to provoke him.”

Tim hated how he was spoken about as if he wasn’t even there. Like he was some hapless child throwing a temper tantrum that Bruce was indulging, but sharing quiet whispers about with the real adults.

Like he thought Jason could control himself better than Tim just because Jason had experience with the Lazarus Pit, making him less susceptible to anger manipulation.

At least that was the working theory, currently. Jason’s working theory was simply that he was better than Tim. It was when he said that, that Tim suggested the handcuffs. He had enough of his wits left about him to know he’d sort of regret killing Jason Todd, no matter how badly he wanted to right now.

Jason just shrugged at Bruce’s words and relaxed back into his chair, crossing his legs. “He shouldn’t be so easily provokable then.”

“You know damn well-” Tim started.

“Timothy.” Bruce put a command in his voice that he rarely used with Tim. It made Tim straighten on instinct. The endless patience Bruce had was getting worn more and more thin with every jab and insult traded between Tim and Jason. He looked like he was at his wit’s end. “Don’t listen to him.”

A slow, deep breath did nothing to calm Tim’s nerves. He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood and then resisted the urge to spit it at Bruce. “B, I love you, but you have no idea how hard this is. Especially around him of all people.”

The look that crossed Bruce’s face was pained. They always danced around the elephant in the room, that was Bruce accepting Jason back into the fold a little too quickly for everyone’s comfort. It was his soft spot showing. Even when Tim wasn’t under the influence of a drug he didn’t like it and had tried several times to warn Bruce that Jason was a lost cause.

It’d caused a lot of arguments on their best days. Weeks of not speaking to each other on their worst.

And because Tim was the dutiful partner, the loving Robin, he always gave in first. Bruce needed him. In some ways, romantically. But in most ways, Bruce just needed genuine companionship from someone who wasn’t batshit crazy and murdering drug lords like it was a sport. That was Tim’s job. A job he liked, even.

Not that he was too fond of it right now.

They both knew, deep down Bruce had desperate wants of Jason and Tim getting along. The soft comments Bruce made about how well Tim and Jason could work together in a hypothetical always held an unspoken meaning. It wasn’t actually about Tim working with Jason on the field. It was about the fantasy of them being in Bruce’s bed at the same time, loving each other the way they loved him.

That would happen over Tim’s cold, dead body.

“I know,” Bruce said quietly. He reached out for Tim, then seeing the look in Tim’s eye, seemed to think against it and pulled his hand back. It only made Tim angrier. Angry Bruce didn’t currently trust Tim to give him affection. Angry Bruce was right not to trust him. So goddamn angry that despite craving comfort, all Tim wanted to do was bite the hand that fed him. A frustrated growl came out of Tim’s throat and he kicked the ground.

“You know,” Jason drawled, studying Tim with his barely contained madness, “I’m glad for it, honestly. I was starting to think you didn’t have any bite in you at all, Drake. Least we all know what it takes for you to finally snap.”

Tim opened his mouth for a biting insult, but looked at Bruce. He took a deep breath. “I hope all this self-restraint you’re showing is a lesson you keep when all this is over. The last thing we need is for you to go on another murder rampage because someone hurt your feelings.”

Jason’s eyes flared. His hands curled into fists. “Oh, you have no idea the self-restraint I show. If you want to see on a real rampage I’ll fucking-”

“Enough!” Bruce slammed a hand on the console. He ran his hand over his face and sighed. “I have more files on fear toxin in my study I need to find.” Bruce looked between them, giving them both a hard stare. “Can you two manage not to tear each other apart while I’m gone?”

“Ask him,” Jason shrugged. He was trying to sound nonchalant again, but he spoke through grit teeth. “I’m just fine over here.”

Tim just held up his cuffed hands, showing where the chain ended, keeping him firmly connected to the steel chair. “I couldn’t go anywhere even if I wanted to.”

Bruce nodded. He passed one more look between the two of them. “I’ll be right back. We’ll figure this out, I promise.” Again, he looked like he wanted to reach out. To which of them, Tim wasn’t sure. probably both, which sent an involuntary wave of disgust through his body. If Bruce touched Jason in front of him, Tim was probably going to puke. Bruce turned on his heel and walked out of the cave. They both watched his figure slowly disappear from view.

Before Tim could even turn to Jason and say something, he was tackled to the ground by a blindingly fast and heavy human body.

“What the-” Tim started, raising his hands to protect his face when a fist tried to come down on it. “How the fuck-”

Jason was wearing a grin that had gone completely mad, in every definition of the word. He had easily pinned Tim to the ground, a knee on Tim’s chest. Jason’s hands were still cuffed together but somehow, he’d undone the chain connecting him to his chair. Which boded particularly poorly for Tim, who was still chained to his chair, giving his arms a limited range of movement to defend himself.

Of course, Jason had picked the lock without either of them noticing.

“Thought you were the smart one, Drake,” Jason sneered. His hands were forced together, so when he reached for his waist with one hand they both had to move away from Tim’s face. “You really fucking thought I’d willingly hand over all my weapons to Bruce in a room with you?” He pulled a small, switchblade out from under his waistband and flipped it open. “I wouldn’t have even if I wasn’t drugged.”

“I knew you were acting, you fucking bastard,” Tim snarled. He didn’t have a weapon. It had been his suggestion to hand all of them over to Bruce because Tim was trying to be reasonable.

He should’ve fucking known better. There was never any reasoning with Jason.

Tim still had his bare hands. He launched them toward Jason’s throat. They managed to curl around flesh, nails just starting to dig in, when Jason stabbed Tim in the hand. Tim yelled, yanking his hand away and taking the other one with it.

That was the other shitty part of the anger. It made pain harder to ignore.

“Had to convince Bruce it was okay to leave you alone with me,” Jason said, shrugging slightly. “Figured I would only get one chance.” He raised the knife and tried to bring it down on Tim’s face. Tim managed to stop him, getting the knife tangled in the chains. “For fuck’s sake.” Jason shifted his weight. He pulled the knife free and brought up his over leg, using it to pin down the chain under his boot. Without any slack, Tim’s hands were forced against the ground, tugging uselessly.

“I will rip you apart with my teeth if I have to,” Tim growled, trying to snap at Jason’s face to prove his point.

Jason easily dodged and laughed. “I’d like to see you try. Maybe It’ll make you interesting, for once.” He brought the knife down and held it to Tim’s throat. “Grayson, I could’ve understood. He’s a pretty guy. Got a good sense of humor on him. Even Gordon. I don’t like her, but I could’ve respected it.” Jason’s face twisted into an ugly look, staring down at Tim with utter contempt. “But you? I have to share Bruce with you of all people? My goddamn replacement? That’s just fucking insulting.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten yourself killed then,” Tim shot back. “You were easy to replace.”

“Yeah, provoke the guy with a knife to your throat,” Jason pressed the blade against Tim’s skin until a drop of blood was sliding down his adam’s apple. “I’ll show you what a dead Robin looks like.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “You really think Bruce will forgive you for killing me?” He tugged at the chain as hard as he could. It still wasn’t budging. “He’d tear you apart.”

“Yeah, I really do,” Jason mocked Tim. He leaned in close enough for Tim to smell mint on Jason’s breath. “He always does. He’ll just blame it on the toxin. We both know he always forgives me no matter what I do.” His grin was a ghastly thing. “Can you say the same, Drake?”

Tim just growled. He headbutted Jason, not caring about the knife. If he was going to die, he would at least leave his mark.

Jason jerked back, rubbing his nose. Tim had hopefully broken it. Blood was already starting to pour down Jason’s face. Jason had the audacity to laugh. “Cute.” He rubbed his nose for a moment, feeling the bone. “You know I’m not going to kill you, though. That would be way too nice.”

“Nice?” Tim scoffed. “Did you finally learn the meaning of mercy, or something?”

“For you? Never.” Jason brought the knife to Tim’s face. “I just want to make you wish you were dead.” he dug the blade into Tim’s temple and Tim yelled, feeling it cut through his skin all the way down to his jaw. “What part of you do I have to mutilate to make Bruce stop loving you?”

Tim didn’t say anything. He was too busy trying to blink through the pain of a shallow cut that should’ve felt like nothing. Instead, it felt like a hot iron had branded the entire left side of Tim’s face, melting most of his skin off.

“What’s so pretty it could make Bruce like someone as pathetic as you?” Jason pressed on. He put another cut across Tim’s face, slashing through his cheek. “You’ve got a nice face. Is that it?” He leaned back so he could rip Tim’s shirt apart, exposing Tim’s chest. “We both know Bruce is a physical guy. Maybe it’s something else.” The blade trailed across Tim’s chest, looking for the next place to cut.

Tim managed to get leverage against the concrete with his feet. He pushed himself up as hard and fast as he could, throwing Jason off of him. Before Jason had the chance to recover, Tim launched himself forward and wrapped the chain around Jason’s throat.

“Maybe his love for you is only skin deep,” Tim pulled the chain as tight as it could go, watching Jason’s face turn red without oxygen. The rational part of him knew he was taking too much pleasure in watching Jason struggle for air. The rest of him didn’t care. “But Bruce actually loves me.”

Jason snarled. “He’s loved me longer.”

He wildly stabbed at Tim until the knife sank into Tim’s forearm. Tim screamed and let go, giving Jason slack to breathe, getting a hand under the chain and yanking hard on it. Tim didn’t fall off of Jason but instead fell into him. Their bodies were pressed together, and Jason used it as an excuse to wrap the chain around Tim, forcing them against each other.

“Can’t get away from me now,” Jason whispered into Tim’s ear. He ripped his knife out of Tim’s arm.

“You really want to be this close to me?” Tim asked. He tried to headbutt Jason again but didn’t have enough damned room to move. “Your fucking funeral.”

“I’m the one with the knife,” Jason said in a sing-song voice. He wiggled his arms between them and brought the knife against Tim’s crotch. Tim had his pants as a layer of fabric protecting him, but he still went rigid. “Is it here? Is this what Bruce likes so much? Go on. Tell me how he likes to fuck you, Drake. Bet you’re real fucking vanilla about it and he has to be all nice to you.”

“You sound jealous,” Tim tried to bite Jason, who kept pulling his head away. “You’re the one who needs to hear him say he’s proud of you just to come. I’m not the one of us who cries during sex.”

“How the hell-” Jason’s whole body jerked in anger.

Tim knew his grin was feral. “Trust me, I know all the embarrassing details. Bruce talks about it all the time.” That wasn’t entirely true. Tim had just overheard it once when Bruce forgot to turn off his comms. But the lie was far more embarrassing for Jason.

“I could make you cry,” Jason sounded angrier than Tim had ever heard him, which was a hell of a feat. “He’s just not fucking you hard enough. Putting you in your goddamn place like you deserve.”

“You want to fuck me, now?” Tim taunted. “I thought you hated me.”

“Too vanilla to know what hatefucking is, Drake?” Jason shot back. He pressed the knife harder into Tim’s crotch. “I could make you fucking beg for it.”

“Like hell.”

“You wanna find out?” Jason asked.

Tim paused his struggles. He pulled back and gave Jason an incredulous look. “You’re not actually serious.”

“Either I kill you, torture you, or bitch you.” Jason shrugged. He dug the knife down enough to cut open Tim’s pants. The fabric tore loudly. “I’ll let you pick.”

“I’ll kill you first,” Tim shot back. He refused to take the offer seriously.

He didn’t know what his answer would be, if it was a serious offer, so it was better for Tim to not think about it entirely.

“Scared you’ll like it?” Jason was just mocking him now. “If I ruin you enough, you’ll come crawling back for me instead of Bruce. And besides,” Jason lowered his voice to a purr, “we both know he’d pay to watch. Bet he’d even help me hold you down.”

Against his will, Tim shuddered. His anger was clouding his judgment, making it hard to figure out what other emotions were there. Maybe there was arousal. Maybe it was fear.

Tim always had trouble telling the difference.

“Have you always wanted to fuck me?” Tim avoided everything Jason was saying. It made him too dizzy to think about.

Jason just gave him a shrug. “Can’t say I haven’t wondered what’s so special about fucking you that he keeps doing it. Is your ass really that good or something?”

Tim snorted. He had no idea Jason didn’t know. “He doesn’t fuck me in the ass.”

“What?” Jason’s brow furrowed.

“If I had a dick down there, you’d have cut it by now,” Tim pointed out, looking down at the knife.

Jason frowned. He dug the knife deeper, ripping open a bigger hole in the fabric of Tim’s pants until he could force his hand inside, thankfully the one that wasn’t holding the knife. Tim tried to kick, but he couldn’t stop Jason’s hand from groping until it found his cunt, pressing against Tim’s underwear.

“Son of a bitch,” Jason said. “Well, that makes you even easier to fuck. Now I don’t need prep.”

“You’re not fucking me,” Tim snarled, trying to get away from Jason’s hand. his skin was too hot, to have Jason that close to his most sensitive areas. He didn’t want to know what his body would do if Jason got past the thin barrier of fabric between him and Tim’s skin.

“You haven’t actually told me no yet,” Jason pointed out. He managed to cut apart Tim’s underwear, a cold reminder of how close the knife was to his cunt. Thick fingers pressed against Tim’s hole until two managed to sink in. “You’re wet.”

“No, I’m not,” Tim gasped, even though he could feel it. The easy slide of Jason’s fingers inside of him, the way there was no resistance from his body. He still wasn’t ready to admit to himself that he wanted this. Not when he wanted Jason dead just as badly. Tim opened his mouth to say something more, but Jason brushed a thumb over his clit. “Oh god.”

“if I’m being honest with you,” Jason hummed, starting to move his fingers inside of Tim, “I think it’s a lot easier to be horny than angry right now. That’s the only damn feeling that works to fight this.”

He was right and Tim hated him for it. The anger thrumming under his skin pulled back, just slightly, to make room for arousal. It made Tim want to give in, just so he could have anything to latch onto besides cold, empty fury.

And Jason’s fingers felt good inside of him. They arched right up into Tim’s sweet spot, making him gasp and jerk.

“How quick do you think I can make you come?” Jason asked. He worked his fingers and thumb together, finding a good pace. Like he knew exactly how Tim liked it.

“Fuck you,” Tim groaned, throwing his head back.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” Jason said.

They both knew he wouldn’t. Tim didn’t want Jason to stop. If Jason stopped, Tim would probably grab the knife and gut him.

“I hate you.” Tim’s hips were moving against his will. He was acutely aware the knife was still down there too, but he put a small amount of trust in Jason to not let it trust.

“It’s mutual,” Jason agreed. He shifted his hips until they were pressed against Tim’s thigh. He was hard. Tim could feel the outline of Jason’s cock as Jason started to rut, grinding against Tim for friction. A low moan came out of him, going straight to Tim’s core.

Jason was kind of handsome, at least. Especially with blood all over his face.

“Now are you gonna come for me or what?” Jason growled into Tim’s ear. “Show me exactly how much you hate me, Drake. I want to fucking feel it.”

“You’re a bastard who doesn’t deserve Bruce,” Tim whined as Jason’s fingers worked him. Rubbing his clit and thrusting into his sweet spot. It was a sweet, torturous distraction from his rage, but it still didn’t make the feeling quite go away.

“Agreed.” Jason shrugged, seeming unbothered by the statement. He groaned again, pressing his forehead against Tim’s. “I’m still better than you, though. You’re the little bitch who’s never going to forget what being fucked by me feels like. Maybe I’ll be nice enough that you’ll enjoy it and jerk off to it every time you’re wet.”

The thought of jerking off to Jason repulsed Tim. Yet it was the same thought that sent his orgasm through him, like a shock to his core. He yelled, so loud it echoed through the cave. His hole clenched around Jason’s fingers as his body worked through the spasms of pleasure.

For one glorious moment, Tim didn’t notice his anger. He just had the beautiful crescendo of pleasure crashing down on him, making his body sing.

“Isn’t that fucking adorable,” Jason gasped, grinding harder against Tim. You’re finally not annoying for once. No wonder Bruce fucks you. It’s the only way someone can enjoy being around you.”

The words were mean and Tim wanted to snap back, but he was boneless. Every insult from Jason was a new aftershock of pleasure down Tim’s spine.

Tim opened his mouth to find something to say, but he was cut off.

“What the hell are you doing?” Bruce stood at the mouth of the cave, staring at them with wide eyes. He looked just as angry as Tim felt, stalking over to where they were pinned and bloody on the floor. “Jason if you hurt him-”

“I’m fingering him, actually,” Jason corrected lazily, still grinding his hips.

Bruce stopped walking. “What?”

Jason thrust his fingers inside Tim to make his point, pulling a cry out of Tim. He was oversensitive from his orgasm and couldn’t get away from the pressure against his g-spot. “You should be proud of us. We’re getting along pretty well.”

Sure they were. Like Tim’s face wasn’t cut up and Jason’s nose wasn’t broken.

“You…” Bruce trailed off, breath caught in his throat. Tim watched his pupils dilate.

“He’s enjoying himself. Just came on my fingers,” Jason said. He pressed the knife against Tim’s thigh as a warning. “Right, Drake?”

Tim bit back a remark. He nodded.

“I promise to behave if you let me fuck him,” Jason looked up at Bruce. He was definitely lying. “We should both fuck him. See how much he can take. I’ll even keep the cuffs on just to be nice.”

Tim couldn’t stop the soft moan that came out of him at the thought.

Bruce looked between them. His eyes settled on Tim. “Are you-”

“Yes,” Tim said. “Please?”

As soon as Tim said the magic word, Bruce was by their side, taking his clothes off. Jason groaned in victory. He grinned against Tim’s cheek. “Now we can have some real fun.”

[valgeristik]

twilight princess + skyward sword stuff ive been drawing the past few days for practice and for fun <3 (you can take TP link's mustache out of my cold, dead hands)

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[mohntilyet]

let me be clear i like veilguard but it does suck that no one disapproves anymore outside of like. three choices. i want to be fighting for my life earning approval back again someone has GOT to hate my ass. i should be careful about party composition and companion reactions again. i miss tactically taking fenris out of the party before i'm nice to merrill like those were the days