#yeah its a funny post but youre only sort of right

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Daddy

Debut: Daddy Long Legs

Yeah, I'm going to be saying "Daddy" a lot in this post. Sorry. I don't like him in that way! It's ok if you do, though. He's a very charming fellow!

Perhaps you remember Daddy Long Legs (game), from like 2014! I suddenly remembered it. And I smiled. It is silly! If you don't know, it is an extremely simple mobile game where the goal is to control Daddy's legs carefully, tapping to move each leg at a time. Like QWOP! Remember QWOP? Daddy Long Legs is simpler, but 100% more Creaturetastic!

So. Let's discuss the Creature of it all. Daddy himself! A sort of fuzzy cube, with two very long, sort of fuzzy legs. The description of the game confirms that he is indeed a two-legged spider! And various costume descriptions give us some more delightful insight. For example, he is covered in Wool, specifically. On that note, he likes to sneak around while dressed as a sheep. Would you be fooled if you saw a farm animal slinking around on two legs? You'd probably think "That's Just Chicken". Daddy also has no teeth and can only intake liquid food, just like a real spider! But in his case, this is exclusively yogurt. #DairyDaddy

I think it's great when such a simple game finds a way to add in character and even lore! None of this was necessary at all, and the silly costumes would speak for themselves, but we are instead given the privilege of learning what an endearing, yet pathetic guy Daddy is!

Have you fallen for him yet? He sure has fallen for you! Oh wait, he just fell independently of your presence. But I'm sure it'll be for you someday. Chin up, champ!

As long as I am talking about daddy longlegs, I would love to mention what a wacky name it is. Maybe the name was first given by a baby one to its father. Maybe it even had two dads, and one of them had longer legs than the other, so that was his name! Daddy Longlegs. Gay Bugs Lore! But the real wackiness is that it refers to THREE different arthropods: there are the harvestmen, which to me are the "true" daddy longlegses. Basically an orb with long legs. More leg than daddy, those guys! And not actually spiders! Cellar spiders, though, ARE true spiders, and also get referred to with the funny name. They're living in your basement, right now! Daddies in your area! Lastly, silliest of all is that CRANE FLIES get the daddy longlegs treatment too. I guess I can see it from looking at them, but it's funny seeing them with these two spindly arachnids! At least it's better than people thinking they're big mosquitoes.

Final Fun Fact! Harvestmen, unlike spiders, CAN chew and swallow solid food. I learned this by seeing some eating a discarded apple chunk along with some isopods! A decomposition party!

[authortelevision]

you’re mine₊˚⊹♡

words: 3,002 ✦ .ᐟ

♯┆jealous george clarke, blow jobs, degradation, slut shaming, smut

you confess to george that you used to have a fan account about chrismd but when george finds the account himself you realise how possessive george can be and how much he wants you to know you’re only his

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hello hello !! this could technically be a part 2 to jealous george but you can also read it on its own

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You were sitting cross-legged on George’s bed, leaning against the headboard as he stretched out beside you, scrolling through his phone. His legs brushed against yours occasionally, and though it was casual, the closeness reminded you of how much you loved being his.

“I need to tell you something,” you said, your voice hesitant as you picked at a thread on the hem of your sweater.

George glanced up at you, sensing your unease. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, exactly…” You exhaled, cheeks already heating. “It’s just… okay, you have to promise not to get mad.”

He sat up a little straighter, narrowing his eyes. “That’s not a good start. What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” you said quickly, clutching a pillow to your chest. “It’s just… it’s something kind of embarrassing. About me. And, um… Chris.”

George’s expression shifted instantly, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. “Chris?” he repeated, his voice just a bit cooler. “What about Chris?”

You winced. “So, in 2020, I, um… I had a fan account for him.”

George blinked, clearly trying to process what you’d just said. And then, he laughed. But it wasn’t his usual easy, full laugh. This one sounded slightly forced, like he was trying to play it off.

“A fan account? For Chris?” he asked, his voice rising incredulously.

“Yes!” you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I’m so embarrassed. I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

George didn’t say anything for a moment, and when you peeked up at him, his lips were pressed into a thin line.

“So, what kind of fan account are we talking here?” he asked, a little too casually. “Were you posting thirst traps of him or something?”

“What? No!” you exclaimed, horrified. “It was just, like… appreciation posts! Pictures from his games, funny things he said in his videos, that sort of stuff.”

George let out a short laugh, but there was a tightness in his jaw that you couldn’t miss. “Right. Just a harmless little crush, then?”

“It wasn’t a crush!” you said quickly, the heat in your cheeks intensifying. “It was 2020. I was bored, and Chris just happened to be… entertaining.”

“Entertaining,” George repeated, his tone flat.

You groaned, throwing the pillow at him. “Oh my god, stop making it weird!”

“I’m not the one who made it weird,” he shot back, catching the pillow but holding onto it like he needed something to fidget with. “You’re the one confessing to having a fan account for Chris of all people.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, catching the edge in his voice. “George… are you jealous?”

“Jealous?” he repeated, scoffing. “Of Chris? Don’t be ridiculous.”

But the way he tossed the pillow aside a little too forcefully and crossed his arms said otherwise.

“You are jealous,” you said, a teasing grin breaking across your face despite your embarrassment.

“I’m not jealous,” he insisted, though his gaze flicked away from yours. “It’s just… it’s Chris. The guy who leaves his gym socks all over the flat and takes 45-minute showers. That’s who you thought was worthy of a fan account?”

You laughed, leaning closer to him. “It was years ago, George. I didn’t even know you or him back then.”

“Yeah, well,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair, “if I’d known, I would’ve made sure to stop it.”

“Oh, really?” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder. “And how exactly would you have done that?”

His eyes finally met yours, and there was an ounce of something possessive in them. “By making sure you knew there were better options.”

Your breath caught for a moment before you shook your head, laughing softly. “George, it wasn’t that deep. I wasn’t in love with him or anything.”

He huffed, still looking unimpressed. “Good. Because if I have to hear one more time about how Chris is ‘underrated’ or whatever…”

“Oh my god,” you said, groaning dramatically. “I regret telling you this already.”

George’s lips twitched into a smirk, though the jealousy still lingered in his eyes. “You know, I think I should make my own fan account. Post appreciation pictures of myself and see how you like it.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning over to kiss him lightly. “I’d be your biggest fan, George. You know that.”

His smirk softened into a genuine smile as he pulled you closer. “Good. Because I don’t want to compete with Chris for your attention.”

“You’re so weird,” you said, laughing as you settled into his arms.

“And you’re mine,” he murmured, the words warming your cheeks.

Chris might’ve been entertaining once, but sitting there with George, having him kiss all over your face, you couldn’t imagine ever thinking of anyone else. That was until now.

George had been distant all day. Usually, he’d find ways to hover near you, cracking jokes or stealing bites of your food just to make you roll your eyes. But today, he barely said a word. Instead, he spent most of the day holed up in his room or deliberately avoiding you in the flat.

At first, you thought maybe he was just having an off day, everyone had them. But when he brushed past you in the hallway without so much as a glance, it started to feel deliberate.

“George?” you called after him as he walked into his room, shutting the door behind him without a word.

Your patience finally snapped. You marched down the hall, pushed open his door without knocking, and slammed it shut behind you.

“What the hell is your problem?” you demanded, arms crossed as you glared at him.

George was standing by his desk, his back to you, his shoulders stiff. When he finally turned around, there was something sharp in his eyes that made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

“You know what’s the problem?” he said, his voice low but brimming with frustration. “You. You’re the problem.”

You blinked, stunned. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He stepped closer, his jaw tight. “I found it, by the way.”

“Found what?” you asked, your confusion genuine.

“The account,” he said, his voice cold. “Your fan account. The one you swore was harmless.”

You stared at him, your heart sinking. “Wait—how did you—”

“I looked for it,” he snapped, cutting you off. “And you lied to me. All those posts, all those things you wrote about him, how much you wanted him…” His voice cracked slightly, his frustration boiling over. “And you let him flirt with you, knowing you used to feel that way.”

“George,” you said, shaking your head, “what are you talking about? I told you, it wasn’t like that—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he interrupted, his voice louder now. “You wanted to fuck him, didn’t you?” George’s voice was sharp, accusing, the words slicing through the air like a knife.

“Excuse me?” you spoke back, stunned and furious. “That’s not fair, George. I never—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he interrupted again, his tone raising, his frustration spilling over. “You can’t seriously expect me to believe you made all those posts about him, said all those things, and didn’t mean it.”

“It was years ago!” you shouted, your voice shaking with anger. “It was a stupid, meaningless thing I did when I was bored and stuck at home. I wasn’t thinking—”

“Yeah, well, I’m thinking about it now,” he shot back, stepping closer. “Thinking about the way he looks at you, the way you let him flirt with you—”

“I don’t let him do anything!” you cut him off, your face hot with frustration. “Chris was just being Chris. I didn’t take it seriously, and neither should you!”

"Oh, come on," George scoffed, shaking his head, his jaw tight. "You're telling me there's nothing left from that ‘stupid crush’? That part of you doesn't like the attention?"

“George what the fuck is wrong with you?”

He paused for a moment, his eyes scanning your face as he exhales, forcefully biting his lip, enough to leave an indent. “Wrong with me? The only thing wrong with me is the fact I thought a relationship with a slut like you would ever work out.”

Your breath caught in your throat, his words slamming into you like a physical blow. A mix of shock and rage surged through you, your body stiffening as the full weight of what he’d just said sank in.

“What the fuck did you just say?” you fought back, your voice low and trembling, your hands curling into fists at your sides.

George’s jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling as he looked at you, his face hard and unreadable. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to take it back, but then his expression hardened again, his voice cutting.

“You heard me.”

“No.” You took a step forward, your anger blazing. “Say it again, George. I dare you.”

He stayed silent, his lips pressing into a thin line as his gaze flicked away from you, like he couldn’t bear to look at the fury in your eyes.

“You’re unbelievable,” you spat, your voice breaking slightly despite your best efforts. “After everything, after all the times I’ve told you how much I care about you, this is what you think of me?”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t,” you snapped, cutting him off. “Don’t you fucking dare say you didn’t mean it. You don’t get to throw a word like that at me and act like it’s nothing.”

George finally looked at you, his eyes filled with something raw and painful that made your stomach twist. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice rough.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, George,” you shot back. “You don’t trust me. You don’t believe me when I say I don’t want Chris. And now you’re calling me a slut? What the hell is wrong with you?”

He raked a hand through his hair, frustration radiating off him in waves. “I don’t know, okay? I don’t fucking know! I just—”

“What?” you demanded, stepping even closer. “You just what? Go on, say it.”

His hands clenched at his sides, his voice rising. “I just hate the way he looks at you! The way he talks to you like he’s got a chance, like I’m not even in the fucking picture!”

You stared at him, your anger warring with confusion. “And that’s my fault? You think I encourage him?”

“I don’t know!” George burst out, his voice breaking. “I don’t know what to think anymore! I just—”

His words faltered as he looked at you, his eyes dark and stormy with emotions he didn’t know how to express.

“You just what?” you whispered, your voice quieter now but no less fierce.

He exhaled shakily, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I just— I can’t stand the thought of anyone else having you.”

You opened your mouth to respond, a mix of anger and confusion bubbling to the surface, but before you could even form a sentence, George surged forward. His lips crashed against yours, the force of it silencing any protest you might have had.

You froze for a second, startled by the suddenness of it, your mind spinning. But then his hands cupped your face, holding you in place, and the desperation in the kiss pulled you under.

It wasn’t sweet or careful—it was messy and raw, all teeth and tongue as he kissed you like he was trying to prove something. You hesitated, the weight of your unresolved argument hanging heavy, but then his hands slid to your waist, pulling you against him, and you gave in.

Your fingers fisted in the fabric of his shirt as you kissed him back, meeting his intensity with your own. It was chaotic, your breaths mingling as you stumbled together, his body pressing into yours until the edge of the bed hit the backs of your knees.

You fell back onto the mattress, George following without hesitation. His weight pinned you down as his lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, then lower, finding the soft curve of your neck. He kissed you there, the sensation sharp and hot.

His hands gripped your waist, sliding under your shirt just enough for his fingers to brush your bare skin. Every touch, every kiss felt frantic, like he was trying to erase the fight, the tension, and every trace of doubt you’d left between you.

“George…” you managed, your voice breaking as you tried to catch your breath, your fingers gripping his shoulders.

But he didn’t stop, didn’t let you finish. His lips pressed harder against your neck, his teeth biting down on your skin in a way that made you gasp.

“Don’t,” he muttered against your neck, his voice thick. “Don’t say anything right now.”

And so you didn’t. Instead, you let him keep going, the messy desperation between you spilling over as he kissed you like he needed you to understand exactly what he felt, whether or not he could find the words to say it.

George pinned your wrists to the sides of your head, his eyes blazing with a primal lust. Your arms landed on the soft sheets, your heart racing as he loomed over you, his body casting a shadow across your trembling form.

"You're mine," he growled, his voice thick with passion. "And I'm going to remind you of that."

With that, he took both your wrists in one hand, using the other to rip your shirt open, buttons flying across the room, exposing your breasts. His hands, rough and calloused, cupped your flesh, squeezing and kneading, causing you to arch your back and moan in pleasure.

"Oh, George..." you panted, your nipples hardening under his touch. "Please..."

He leaned down, his lips capturing one of your nipples, sucking and biting gently. His free hand trailed down your stomach, fingers tracing the outline of your underwear, teasing the damp fabric.

"You're so wet for me," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot on your sensitive breasts. "Tell me, who makes you feel like this?"

"You do," you whispered, your voice scratchy. "Only you, George. No one else can make me feel this way."

His hand slipped into your underwear, his fingers finding your throbbing clit, circling it and pressing down. You bucked against his touch, your hips rising off the bed, seeking more of his touch.

"That's right," he growled, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Only I can make you come like this. Only I can fuck you."

As his fingers worked, you felt your orgasm building quicker than usual, a tidal wave of pleasure threatening to consume you. Your body trembled, and you clutched at the sheets, desperate for release.

"Please, George..." you begged, your voice a mere whisper. "Make me come... I’m only yours."

George's fingers quickened their pace, his thumb pressing against your sensitivity. "Come for me, you little slut. Show me how much you want it."

The pleasure became unbearable, and with a cry, you climaxed, your body shaking every feeling of ecstasy washed over you. George's fingers continued their relentless touches, milking every last drop of pleasure from your quivering body.

As your orgasm subsided, George withdrew his hand, leaving you breathless and worthless. He stood at the edge of the bed, his eyes burning with a possessive gleam.

"Fuck, you really are desperate for someone to fuck you," he said, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Now, get on your knees, and show me how much you’re mine."

You didn't hesitate. You wanted to please him, to submit to his every desire. Slowly, you rose to your knees, your eyes locked on his, a silent promise to make him feel good.

George's cock, already hard and straining against his jeans, made your mouth water in desperation. You reached out, your fingers trembling as you unzipped his fly, eager to set it free. As his length sprang forth, you couldn't help but gasp at the sight.

"Suck it," he commanded, his voice rough. "Show me how much of a slut you are for me."

You leaned forward, your lips parting to take him in. His thick cock filled your mouth, and you moaned around it, the taste and feel of him driving you wild. George's hands gripped your hair, guiding your movements, controlling the pace.

"That's it, babygirl," he grunted, his hips thrusting gently as his tugged at your hair laced around his fingers. "Take it all, take me deep into your throat."

You obeyed, your mouth working faster as his commands spur you on, your tongue licking the slit on the top of his head, tasting his salty pre-cum. His hand moved from your hair to cradle your face in his large hand forcing you to look up at him through your eyelashes.

"You're such a good girl," he growled. "Make come right down your throat."

You paused for a moment to take him out of your mouth letting his cock rest on your tongue. George's breathing became ragged, and you could feel his cock twitching in your mouth, a sure sign he was close to the edge. You wrapped your mouth around him once more, sucking eagerly as he thrusted aggressively into your wet mouth.

With a final, powerful motion, George came, his hot cum flooding your mouth. You swallowed proudly, savouring the taste of him. He held your head in place, his hips jerking as he emptied himself into your willing mouth.

As he withdrew, you looked up at him, your eyes shining with satisfaction as you licked your bottom lip of the last of him. George's face was that of pure love, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"You look so beautiful," he confessed, his voice husky. "You’re mine, you know that, only mine my love."

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a/n: thank you so much to @arthurhillmastermind for all your help on this fic !!

[thepoetoftime]

Kel was obviously the chosen of Mithros, the God of Justice

Alanna: chosen by the Great Mother Goddess

Daine: daughter of the God of the Hunt

Aly: chosen by the Trickster God

Beka: chosen by the God of Death himself

Kel: …the special magic scary room asked her to kill a guy this one time

[todayisafridaynight]

NO YOU’RE SO RIGHT ABOUT THE MAJIMA STUFF THOUGH. GOD. God forbid you speak poorly about the fandom silly guy etc etc. I rt’d one post about someone being annoyed abt majima getting an insane amount of merch (especially compared to other characters- even other PLAYABLE characters) and suddenly my TL is filled with ppl taking it as a personal attack….. like?? Settle down???

My one fear is that instead of Mine content we’re just gonna get Majima Saga 2 for yk3 and rgg will call it a day. WHAT ELSE IS THERE TO SAY ABOUT THE GUY !!! GENUINELY!!!

at this rate we’re going to have a complete record of Majima’s life from birth until modern day bc you knowww they’re never gonna let the cash cow die or retire. + god I lowkey need the 3jimas to break up Now so saejima and daigo can stand on their own again (w/out being overshadowed by Majima)…. Saejima especially… I miss the days when he felt like a character………

(I may have a lot to say on the topic) (he’s a fun character but at this rate I’m getting so sick of the fandom around him)

gen is kinda funny how when there's the Monthly Critique Of Majima post on twitter the rggtwt part of the tl is flooded with majima fans being upset. its like clockwork really LOL

as for saejima, i do miss him being solo... like he's funny with majima at times, but as wack as Y4 was i still really liked his coliseum scene, and his prison adventures in Y5 were a real treat too..

[monty-glasses-roxy]

Just had the idea of doing a Roxy askblog that's based on it being a secret blog she's not allowed to have and every so often if someone asks her something she just says stuff like "To the Fazspy reading this, I'm not the real Roxy." to try and throw the staff off her trail lmao

Will probably never make a blog like that, but it could be kinda funny. Maybe I bring the idea of an 'ask Roxy anything' game back where I draw the answers for it instead so it's not a whole ass blog dedicated to Roxy being a sneaky lil shit on the internet

[weirdmageddon]

i love these tags this person is so right

actually, can you imagine if dave was raised by B1 roxy?

i wanna get into this actually

(ok i had to spend a few hours rewriting this because IT DIDNT FUCKING SAVE AFTER FIVE HOURS OF WRITING WHEN MY COMPUTER UPDATED WHILE I WAS AFK so it would mean a lot to show this post some appreciation. i LOVEEE hearing what other people have to say)

even though these things mom does are presented in an extravagant, kitsch, jokey way, her intentions always came from a place of sincerity. she is simply Funnie

but rose reads too far into it and assumes things that aren't there, that her mother is passive-aggressively feigning interest in rose's interests simply because the things she does are so extra. "why do all of this if not to mock me"

im telling you right now if dave lived in this household he wouldn't assume antagonism, he'd go,

don’t forget who LITERALLY patented tangible jpeg artifacts as their post-scratch adult self and scattered shitty scummed up statue of liberties all over the planet. theres no way some of that overboard artful shit wasnt post-ironic / circling back around to genuine funny sincerity

dave's natural state is funny sincerity like roxy. he's had the natural capacity for this type of humor from the start and this is the direction he goes towards when he grows out of his brother's shadow by the end of the comic. dave and roxy share an earnest “so bad its good” type of humor

(lots more under the cut; the length of this meta analysis just got unwieldly with all the pictures and whatnot)

despite the alcoholism, roxy is a supportive mother. she's not the ideal guardian but hells of a lot more supportive of her kid than bro is. if she knew dave's interests she would totally indulge in them with some over the top silly goofy haha shit as a genuine gesture simply because she loves him

rose isn't too keen on it though. but she is more similar to dirk in her natural state of thinking of overthinking shit and assuming the worst, like the tags said

and yes dave got the sweet cuddly yet sometimes backhanded ouppy gene from roxy, probably even moreso lol

roxy's even said rose "sounds like girl dirk"

side tangent here, but this is something i wanna talk about.

i dont think bro should ever be in custody of children ever but if theres anyone who would be up to the task it's rose probably. i know she'd be able to keep up with him. not only does she have a defined personality (dave is more malleable and absorbs his environment like a sponge), if anyone can pick apart B1 dirk's batshit brain and probably be right on the money it's her. lil cal has been pumping patriarchal nonsense into bro's head and rose would be able to bring the fucking facts to the table without losing her own and being a living example of a badass little girl. i also don't think bro would try to force masculine roles onto rose like he did with dave, seeing as she is a girl, so she would actually have more of a leg up and get some passes that dave was never afforded. and rose wouldn't stand idly and accept any bullshit; she is no doormat. and i think this would earn bro's respect

but anyway, from this, couldn't we conclude roxy "sounds like girl dave"?

yeah okay. we havent even gotten into their penchant for funny typos or misspeaks, deliberate or otherwise

so, dave's environment

the sentiment "god you hope you can be as good as your bro at this some day" might have been genuine at the time when he idolized bro but of course he's not able to express that in any sort of sincere fashion because he's in dirk's fucking household. and this level 10 irony shit isnt doing dave any favors

his role models were the Internet and a vague idea of what Bro was like. So he built up his facade based on irony–not the literary definition of irony, as Rose might be quick to point out, but a popular concept of irony based on the idea that things that didn’t make sense actually made sense in some roundabout way. As a master of irony, Dave probably reasoned, he could see in a way other people couldn’t why a world that was scary and didn’t make sense really did make sense, and could therefore convince those people that he was superior to them. And he would wield his knowledge to maintain the appearance of superiority by calling everything ironic and pretending he didn’t care about things that didn’t make sense, and he would use walls of vaguely rhyming words to keep everyone at arm’s length so they wouldn’t discover his insecurities (source)

roxy's style is the embodiment of post-irony. being raised by mom lalonde would be like being raised by joel vinesauce ok

what can i say ….. (getting meta about this actually, hussie got these jpeg wizard wallpapers from a spyware website. link takes some time to load because internet archive)

rose is quick to read post-irony as actually being a joke/insincere, which in bro's case would be true. but i believe dave's natural instinct, outside of the influence of bro, is to read post-irony as genuine, which is exactly how mom serves it. we see this as early as act 3 from him; he understands her motives better than rose does herself:

and in act 6 intermission 2 i think it's pretty clear

but the thing is, it's always genuine from her. dave wouldn't have to second guess it because he's not one to naturally second guess someone's sincerity; that was learned due to his bro being virtually unassailable

there two types of ironies at play here:

seems like a joke, is actually genuine (roxy)

doesnt seem like a joke, is actually a joke (dirk)

you can make the argument that the second is is more psychologically destructive because it makes you question the reality of what is genuine sentiment and what isn't. dave never knew what was genuine and what was irony so he just sort of existed in this sincerity-ironic limbo and always did the opposite of what he genuinely felt on principle even if it always did originate from a genuine place.

"it just a joke bro i was just being ironic i dont actually x" is so much more trust-breaking and psychologically damaging than "wait are you being serious" / "i am being so fucking fr rn davy gravy" / "ok thats actually pretty fucking awesome. giant ass wizard statue" / "RIGHT"

how much about dave would change do you think? his character arc would be completely different for one thing, i think he'd have it good aside from mom's alcohol issues. he'd be left with the sweet and funny parts of him that we see at the end of the comic. the fake coolguy stuff is out, but this remains. this is dave in his element and we see it as early as act 1

he'd probably have no shades growing up in the lalonde residence* either cause those were given to him by bro straight out of the crater as an extension of his own cool image. and john gave dave ben stiller’s aviators for his 13th birthday to replace them so he could “spread his wings”

dave said he was wearing them for the ironies but i kind of doubt it. maybe post-irony but there was some reacharound to it being genuine because dave never put those pointy anime shades on his face again.

*though... it’s kind of hard to imagine him without his shades at all? B2 dave still got stiller’s shades from stiller himself so maybe getting them is a universal constant. i can imagine mom getting him them as a birthday gift cause shes pretty wealthy and probably could buy it out in an auction. but also itd be cool if john still gave him it as a gift

dave is actually a lot more genuine and easy to read than he lets on even when grappling with his upbringing with B1 dirk (again, see this post). this can be seen all throughout he comic but a good example is the evolution of thoughts about his interest in the preserved dead things in his room:

if B1 roxy was dave's guardian he probably WOULD have pursued paleontology because she wouldve indulged him in it and probably find it cool and worthwhile to pursue, instead of allowing dave to flounder under ironic detachment, being poisoned by irony to the point of gaslighting himself into believing he doesnt actually believe he thinks this shit is cool. even if it was indulged in this such a way; a superficially kitsch and ironic appearing presentation, it comes from a genuine place and inspires genuine interest. just read the comments.

basically, i think if B1 roxy raised dave, their relationship would have a surface level appearance of being bizarre or over-the-top but they’d have an unsaid mutual understanding that it’s completely in earnest and just build on each other's funny and absurd gestures of affection. rather than seeing it as one-upping each other, it'd more like collaboration of some silly bullshit that you take a step back and look at full and just say, "fucking incredible"

speaking of paleontology, mom had the proto-ectobiology lab. maybe they'd be able to use the equipment to appearify paradox ghost imprints of the dead shit to create paradox clones of things from the cambrian era??? sounds like a fun mother son bonding activity. and theyd actually put the sciencey shit in the household to use

oh god i know exactly the kinds of music shed listen too also growing up as a teen in the 80s. she on that (post)-punk/art rock/new wave/new romantic mtv stuff. XTC shit fr. this is a B-52S HOUSEHOLD. maybe the associates for the campy melodramatic flair. so he gets to keep the record on his shirt cause he is an enjoyer of the shit in her vinyl collection. dave would still gravitate towards musical expression and music itself but of more variety outside of just rap, with an 80s-90s, even 70s flavor due to mom’s influence. see this for perhaps a glimpse. ​she probably visited new york city a lot for business trips and because the music scene was cool as hell around that time, imports came straight from jfk airport, she probably got in on that a bit and have remnants in the form of vinyls and cassettes. in this way she could be distributing void to dave (influencing him with forgotten / presently irrelevant music). now he can REALLY rave about bands none of his friends have heard of. “hey davy grvay watcha listenin to” (he holds up vinyl cover) “omg snakefinger”

btw dave lalonde would look like this to me

[prokopetz]

In recent posts I've complained that a lot of tabletop RPGs which toss around the term "fiction first" don't actually understand what it means, and I've been asked to expand on that complaint. So:

In my experience, there are two ways that game texts which want to position themselves as "fiction first" trip themselves up, one obvious and one subtle.

The first and more obvious pitfall is treating "fiction first" as an abstract ideology. They're using "fiction first" as a synonym for "story over rules" in a way that calls back to the role-playing-versus-roll-playing discourse of the early 2000s. The trouble is, now as then, nobody can usefully explain what "story over rules" actually entails. At best, they land on a definition of "fiction first" that talks about the GM's right to ignore the rules to better serve the story, which is no kind of definition at all – it's just putting a funny hat on the Rule Zero fallacy and trying to pass it off as some sort of totalising ideology of play.

A more useful way of defining "fiction first" play is to think of it not in terms of whether you engage with the rules at all, but in terms of when they're invoked: specifically, as a question of order of operations.

Suppose, for example, that you're playing Dungeons & Dragons, and you pick up the dice and say "I attack the dragon". Some critics would claim that no actual narrative has been established – that this is simply a bare invocation of game mechanics – but in fact we can infer a great deal: your character is going to approach the dragon, navigating any inclement terrain which lies between them, and attempt to kill the dragon using the weapon they're holding in their hand. The rules are so tightly bound to a particular set of narrative circumstances that simply invoking those rules lets us work backwards to determine what the context and stakes must be for that invocation of the rules to be sensical; this, broadly speaking, is what "rules first" looks like.

Conversely, let's say that your game of Dungeons & Dragons has confronted you with a pit blocking your path, and you want to make an Athletics check to cross it. At this point the GM is probably going to stop you and say, hold up, tell us what that looks like. Are you trying to jump across it? Are you trying to climb down one wall of the pit and up the other? Are you trying to tie a rope to the halfling and toss them to the other side? In other words, before you can pick up the dice, you need to have a little sidebar with the GM to hash out what the narrative context is, and to negotiate what can be achieved and what's at stake if you mess it up; this, broadly, is what "fiction first" looks like.

At this point I know some people are thinking "wait, hold on – both of those examples were from Dungeons & Dragons; are you saying that Dungeons & Dragons is both a rules-first game and a fiction-first game?" And yeah, I am. That's the second, more subtle place where game texts that talk about "fiction first" go astray: they talk about it as though being "fiction first" or "rules first" is something which is inherent to game systems as a whole.

This is not in fact true: being "fiction first" or "rules first" is something which describes particular invocations of the rules. In practice, only very simple games spend all of their time in one mode or the other; most will switch back and forth at need. Generally, most "traditional" RPGs (i.e., the direct descendants of Dungeons & Dragons and its various imitators) tend to operate in rules-first mode in combat and fiction-first mode out of it, though this is a simplification – when and how such mode-switching occurs can be quite complex.

Like any other design pattern, "fiction first" mechanics are a tool that's well suited for some jobs, and ill suited for others. Sometimes your rules are fine-grained enough that having an explicit negotiation and stakes-setting phase would just be adding extra steps. Sometimes you're using the outputs of the rules a narrative prompt, and having to pin the context down ahead of time would defeat the purpose. Fortunately, you don't have to commit yourself to one approach or the other; as long as your text is clear about how you're assuming a given set of rules toys will be used, you can switch modes as need dictates. However, you're not going to be capable of that kind of transparency if you're thinking in terms of "this a Fiction First™ game".

(Incidentally, this is why it can be hard to talk about "fiction first" with OSR fans if you're being dogmatic about fiction-first framing being an immutable feature of particular games. Since traditional RPGs tend to observe the above-described rules-first-in-combat, fiction-first-out-of-combat division, and OSR games tend to treat actually getting into a fight as a strategic failure state, a lot of OSR games spend most of their time in fiction-first mode. If you go up to an OSR fan and insist that D&D-style games can never be fiction-first, then attempt to define "fiction first" for them and proceed to describe how they usually play, they'll quite justifiably conclude that you have your head up your ass!)

[deathworlders-of-e24]

Thomas, Engineer

Part 3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You know I could have guessed it, but you guys are way better at this than me,” Thomas said, running a hand through his curly brown hair.

“That is only natural, as our programming and design allow for rapid reflex and dexterous manipulation of our extremities,” Sixer said.

Thomas had invited the Padrino back to his quarters for an impromptu fighting game tournament. Sixer and Mace both attended, as well as one of the Galley named Odis, another of the engineers, and of course Roomba was there, though he was having difficulty handling the controller since it was about as big as he was.

Odis and Roomba had already been knocked out, the Galley by elimination and Roomba by… technical knockout, so it was just Thomas and Sixer left. Mace had winner.

“I refuse to lose, especially not while I’m wearing my lucky shirt,” Thomas said. Odis snorted, but the Padrino spun their heads to face him.

“Human Thomas, please explain how the apparel you are wearing will enhance your performance in this competition,” Mace asked, his synthetic voice as unchanging as always.

“Does the apparel provide some sort of stimulant to your body that will change the outcome of this match?” Sixer accused.

“No, nothing like that, it’s just lucky,” Thomas said.

“Please explain,” Mace pressed.

“Gimme a sec, round three is starting, I got this,” Thomas assured himself.

The game was human designed, an indie title called Galactic Brawl! It was your typical fighting game, but it was making the rounds on Earth due to it using characters similar to GAIL member species locked in mortal combat. The humans had assured the intergalactic market that it wasn’t in anyway meant to be detrimental to universal relationships, but to expose humans to other species in a fun and interesting way that younger humans would enjoy. Plus it made the other species look ‘very cool’, which the GAIL members were assured was a good thing.

The players were 1 win a piece, so this would be the tie breaker. Naturally the players had chosen their own race for the game, something Odis and Thomas thought was quite funny, although the characters were caricatures of the real thing. Very buffed up, with bigger action hero muscles and such.

Buttons were mashed, triggers were pulled, combos were pulled off, and Sixer had him on the ropes. But then Thomas got the BRAWL POWER meter all the way up and executed his ultimate move flawlessly, and came out with the win.

“Yes! I told you, lucky shirt!” Thomas cheered, Odis laughed so hard he fell over, and the Padrino sat there looking as dumbfounded as they could without actual faces.

“Please explain,” they said in unison.

“The shirt?” Thomas pulled the hem of the shirt down so they all could see its glory, a ratty old gray Tee with the sleeves cut off. It had smudged names all over both the front and back. “I got it at this punk concert right before I went into the academy, got all the band members to sign it for me after the show! Good show, too, they came into the crowd while they were still playing, and…”

“Easy, humy, just tell us why the shirt is lucky,” Odis said, tossing back some chips.

“Right, yeah. So I wore this shirt for every test, quiz, and exam I ever got during my training, aced all of them with flying colors. Scored me both a guy’s and a girl’s number on the same day, that was cool, and I was wearing it when I applied for my post on the Noah,” Thomas explained. “Bad things do not happen when I’m wearing the lucky shirt.”

“Yeah, they’re not gonna get that,” Odis said smirking.

“Human Thomas, explain this luck phenomenon,” Sixer requested.

“See?” Odis said. “The humans have this thing, they call it ‘being superstitious’, it’s something the humies believe controls the universe.”

“Explain,” requested Mace.

“Okay, so there’s, like, good luck, where good things will happen if you have it, or bad luck, where bad things happen,” Thomas said, trying to explain. “Think of it this way. It’s like little random acts turn out in your favor if you have good luck, like finding money on the ground or it’s pizza day in the cafeteria.”

“And bad luck breaks your mom’s back or something, right?” asked Odis, laughing.

“Yeah, if you step on a crack in the road or something,” Thomas said. “Or breaking a mirror gets your seven years bad luck.”

“You humies believe the most ridiculous things,” Odis said.

“There are acts that can accumulate negative impacts to your existence?” Mace asked.

“Totally man, tons of them. Like last week, I was having lunch in the mess hall, spilled salt everywhere!”

“And this entails what?” Sixer asked.

“Well it’s supposed to invite enmity and future problems, but I threw some over my left shoulder, so it was fine.”

“You humans are so gullible,” Odis said. “This is why we came to earth so often to mess with you.”

“Tell that to the shirt man,” Thomas said.

“So the garment has… accumulated ‘good luck’, therefore you remain in a sustained field of positive chaos,” Sixer said.

“I guess, yeah,” Thomas said. He’d never heard it described that way before, it was probably the most scientifically accurate portrayal of ‘luck’ he’d ever heard.

“You two are not gonna make sense of this, it’s an illogical belief from a less evolved lifeform,” Odis said. “Next thing you know, the kid is going to tell you he doesn’t walk under ladders or let black cats cross his path.”

“First off, I love all cats,” Thomas said indignantly, “secondly, how do you know so much about earth superstitions?”

“Earth movies. You think you can keep the Galley in the dark? We’ve been sneaking onto Earth for generations.”

“Riiight,” Thomas said.

“Beep.”

[Reminder: engineering staff are to head to the WARP core at 1900 hours for new maintenance procedures]

“Oh, man, is it that time already? We better head out,” Thomas said, zipping up his jumpsuit over his lucky shirt. “Thanks Roomba, I totally forgot the time.”

“Beep.”

[Acknowledgments: you’re welcome]

“Smarter every day, good for you buddy. Alright, come on guys, let’s get to the core before Chief Nivan sticks us on plumbing duty,” Thomas clapped his hands together, ushering everyone out of the room.

“Human Thomas, if we may make a request, may we continue to observe you? This ‘lucky shirt’ phenomenon may lead to some observational data previously unknown to us,” Sixer said.

“Sure guys, whatever you need.”

“You’re not gonna get any data,” Odis chided. “The kid is just going to confuse you both.”

“Regardless, we will continue to observe,” Mace said.

The group made their way to the lifts, Odis still grumbling about how stupid the idea of a lucky shirt was, lucky anything really, the whole time. Thomas tried to explain, saying there were tons of lucky objects on Earth, like the rabbit’s foot.

“You mutilate another lifeform for its appendage just to positively charge your own chaos?” Mace asked, surprised.

“That seems counterproductive to what you have described as Karma,” Sixer said.

“Yeah, that wasn’t great, admittedly. Ancient Earthlings weren’t great at critical thinking yet. These days we have synthetic feet, so that doesn’t happen anymore, I don’t think. I got one on my keys, see?” Thomas pulled a key ring out of his pocket and showed off the foot.

“Double luck today,” he said, smiling.

“Fascinating,” the Padrino said in unison.

“Weird,” said Odis.

“Beep.”

[Request: game pad, please?]

Thomas stuffed his keys back in place and pulled the pad out, giving it to the tiny droid on his bag. Roomba had recently started a new game, having earned the highest score possible on PAC-MAN a few cycles previously. Now he’d moved on to Galaga, another port Thomas had made.

“Beep.”

[Information available]

“Hmm?” Thomas looked at Roomba in his bag.

“Beep.”

[Statement: this new game is stimulating]

“Oh my god you’re so freaking cute Roomba,”Thomas gushed. The little droid was getting smarter by the day thanks to the cognitive upgrade the Padrino had given him. He was ‘talking’ in more complex sentences and could ask for more stuff as he wanted it, Thomas was overjoyed!

They stepped off the lift onto the Core deck, where the fuel was stored, as well as where the WARP core was kept. The thing always looked like a captured star to Thomas, suspended in the air by antigravity struts, a shining ball of orange and red fire behind the dozen or so walls of safety fields keeping the room from being vaporized. Chief engineer Nivan was already waiting for them, pouring over a data pad with another maintenance officer. The room itself was vast, lit by the core, at least the size of the cargo bay on the other side of the ship. Rows of control consoles lined the walls, as well as data screens and input terminals.

Thomas dropped his bag by the door and put Roomba on his shoulder where the little robot looped himself around the cord the human had sown into his jumpsuit for the little guy. Roomba muted the game pad but continued playing.

“Hey chief,” Thomas called out. “We’re here for that briefing on the new core terminal procedures like you asked.”

“Yes, thank you Human Thomas,” Nivan said, two of his four spindly arms waving in acknowledgment. Chief Nivan was a Zilont, whose species had no actual set amount of limbs. Some had 2 arms and legs like humans, some had up to 8 of each. Nivan himself had 4 arms, 3 legs, and his torso moved and bent around like rubber, since he had no spine. The species moved via a series of gas bladders, reminding Thomas of this uncomfortable movie he’d seen where a clown made a person out of balloon tubes. But Chief Nivan was an upstanding guy in his opinion, never pushed work onto his subordinates and tried to be as helpful around the engineering deck as possible. Thomas thought he was a cool boss to work for.

“Lets get started”, Nivan said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chief Nivan got them working, showing them how the new terminals worked, and how to input commands into the core controls in case of emergencies. The Padrino picked it up while he was explaining it, but Odis and Thomas needed a demonstration. Thomas watched as Nivan’s odd balloon-esque tentacle limbs punched in commands, taking note of each key he hit.

“Got it?” Nivan asked. Thomas sometimes had a hard time gauging his emotions, what with the beak and all, but he thought the Zilont looked a little tired.

“I think so, yeah. You okay Chief?” Thomas asked. “Need me to grab you some salt water or something?”

“No, thank you Human Thomas. We’re getting run ragged down here. Odds and ends keep disappearing, tools and spare parts, and just yesterday somebody claimed they had their locker ransacked.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, and the maintenance crew is already out of sorts. This is just adding fuel to the-”

The entire room shook violently.

Chief Nivan was cut off by a series of small electrical explosions from the wall of terminals behind him, throwing him a ways away. Thomas threw his arms up to shield his face, making sure to cover Roomba as well. The floor beneath their feet rocked, the entire ship seemingly to jerk several meters to the side. The lights blew out, raining sparks down around the crews working in the core room. Over a fourth of the crew in there were thrown to the side or into a wall at the sudden shift. The walls groaned and creaked at the rapid change, and Thomas saw something that stopped his blood cold. The safety fields holding back the core’s fire were flickering off one by one.

“EVERYONE OUT RIGHT NOW!!!” Thomas yelled, rushing to Nivan. He grabbed two of his four arms and started hauling him towards the door.

“Twins! What the hell happened?!” He questioned, looking to the two Padrino.

“Ships systems registered a local star released a wave of energetic ions creating a solar storm. Detecting multiple failed systems, including-”

“THE CORE YEAH I KNOW!” Thomas cut him off. “We have to get the hell outta here now! Is anyone else in here?”

“Multiple life signs detected. In approximately 3 minutes the last containment field will fail and the core will vaporize everything in this room.”

Thomas set Nivan down outside the safety doors.

“Okay, Mace, you call them out! Sixer, Odis, and I will go get them. MOVE!” Thomas ordered while he rushed up and over one of the hanging walkways. Odis didn’t have time to argue with him, Mace was in the doorway and Sixer was already on the move as well.

“SQUAL!” Odis yelled before getting in gear. Thomas didn’t need a translator for that one. Odis was Galley, and they were generally self centered. Not today.

Thomas must’ve moved 6 crew out of the core room in those first 2 minutes. He saw a third Padrino in the door now, a new unit he hadn’t met yet, talking to Mace and trying to contain the core. Thomas didn’t stop. Whether they bought more time or not, he wasn’t about to leave this room while anyone was still in it, not while time was still on the clock.

Finally the three minutes were almost up. The safety field was down to its last wall. Only a thin blue screen of light stood between them and obliteration. Thomas grabbed the last crewman on his side, a Zilgrat about half his size and started running back towards the door. From what Mace had said, it was just the space ferret and that should be it. Thomas looked over at the others.

Odis’s foot was caught in the railing.

The crewman he’d been sent to get had been thrown down to Sixer who was rushing him outside.

“There are only seconds left, Human Thomas! We must seal the door immediately.”

Thomas looked from the door to Odis.

He ran to the door.

Dropped the Zilgrat at the robot’s feet.

And sprinted towards the Galley.

His lungs hurt. His muscles ached. It was getting hot in the room, each layer missing from the security wall allowing more heat to escape containment.

Thomas jumped up the stairs to Odis.

“Sorry man!” He said as he grabbed the little gray alien’s leg and yanked. The foot dislodged with a sick crunch and Odis howled, high pitched and clutched at his leg.

Thomas had been counting. No time left. The Galley man didn’t weigh much.

Damn.

He really wanted to keep playing games with these guys.

Thomas took Roomba from his shoulder and shoved the little droid into the Galley’s chest before hurling them both over the railing towards the safety of the blast doors. He actually threw them so far and so hard they struck Mace and forced the whole bunch out into the hall.

“SHUT THE DOORS NOW!” Thomas ordered. The Padrino unit he hadn’t met yet, and now probably wouldn’t, hit the release, and the doors slammed shut as the last field lost power.

Thomas threw himself behind a console as vaporized plasma filled the room. The temperature must’ve leapt by several hundred degrees…

For about 3 seconds.

Then the safety fields sprung back to life, holding back the fire. Thomas sucked in oxygen as the ship’s automatic air filters kicked in, sucking the heat out of the room. Emergency coolers clicked on, rapidly suppressing the temperature fluctuations. His skin hurt, and he caught a vague whiff of burning hair.

The console he’d hid behind seemed to shield him from the sheer worst of it, but Thomas would be very glad to get to Med Bay in the next few minutes. Everything burned. Finally shock and lack of clean oxygen let him pass out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thomas awoke to the sound of Odis and the Padrino… were they yelling?

“I’m telling you,” Odis was saying to someone in a nurse uniform, “if you cut that shirt off him, I will personally teach you how the Galley get even…”

Shirt? What shirt?

Ohhhh.

Thomas started laughing softly, on his bed in the med bay, covered in burn gel.

“I told you guys…” he said hoarsely, “it’s a lucky shirt.”

“Kid!” Odis was standing next to him, leg in a cast. “Kid what the hell were you thinking? Why didn’t you just leave??!”

“Human Thomas, we are please you have not expired,” Sixer said.

“Agreed,” Mace said.

“Thanks guys,” Thomas coughed. “Sorry about the leg, dude, there wasn’t time…”

“My leg? Kid you just got cooked and you’re worried about my leg?” Odis looked at him in disbelief. “You humies are so freaking weird, you should’ve just left me there.”

“Nah… I had that. It’s my lucky day, remember?”

Roomba was sitting on the side table next to his bed. He was holding the game pad, but it wasn’t on.

“Beep.”

[Information Request]

“What’s up buddy? You okay? Sorry I threw you,” Thomas said.

“Beep.”

[Is your unit going to be repaired?]

“Yeah buddy, I’ll be okay. Just got a little too hot in there for a second.”

“Beep.”

[Statement: Unit Thomas is required to be repaired, or ability to complete task {hang out together} will be incomplete]

“Yeah, I love you too buddy,” Thomas said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A quick 2 cycle stint in a regen-pod got Thomas back on his feet and the worst of his burns treated, though he was significantly more tan than he was before. He’d had a short meeting with the captain and first officer, both of whom said something to the effect of ‘what is it with you humans, throwing yourselves into danger?’

He was on his way to the Padrino now, they’d taken Roomba and his main translator for repairs, and to see if they could finally retrace that weird signal he’d heard the other cycle. Since he was told by both the doctors and Odis to focus or rest and recovery, he’d agreed to them babysitting. The spare device in his ear was itchy. He’d be happy to have his back.

When the lift opened, there was Odis the Galley. His cast had been replaced with a prosthetic boot. Thomas stepped in. The doors closed and Odis cleared his throat.

“Listen kid,” the little gray alien started, “that was a real decent thing you did back there the other cycle.”

Thomas looked down at him and shrugged.

“I’m not gonna say it wasn’t a big deal,” Thomas said, “I definitely thought I was gonna die in there. It just didn’t need to be all of us, is all.”

Thomas rummaged around in his pocket and pulled out his keys. He slid the rabbits foot off the ring and held it out to the Galley.

“Here. I think we both need some luck on this ship right now. Have it.”

Odis looked from him to the foot.

“…you sure kid? Didn’t that thing save your life?” Odis said, his usual smirk coming back a little.

“Nah, the shirt saved my life. Plus I feel like I owe you a foot, yeah?”

Odis laughed, shoulders shaking. He took the rabbits foot and stuck it in his pocket.

“Lucky severed animal feet huh? You humies are such deathworlders it’s not even funny.”

“Then why are you laughing, close encounters?”

The lift erupted in laughing fits from the both of them as they made their way down to engineering.

On the engineering deck, the Padrino, along with the small unit known as Roomba, watched the pair leave the lift.

“The human should have expired in the core room,” said Sixer.

“Agreed,” said Mace.

“But he did not,” said Sixer.

“A good thing, yes,” said Mace.

“Beep.”

[Statement: agreed, this is a good thing. New observations can be made now. And new games can be played still]

“Agreed,” said the Padrino in unison.

[lucygxybaird]

drabble prompt! reader is a school teacher who needs help setting up her one room schoolhouse. billy gets teased because how could an outlaw be so whipped for somebody so kind??? an opposites attract sorta thing :) anyways its the first day of school and he brings her an apple to set on her desk andmaybe a new pack of chalk super sweet and thoughtful!! ily sm and ur writing 💜

ahhh oh my goodness cute cute cute!! <3 thank you, I love you too <3 <3

Billy nibbles on his lower lip as he stands in Tunstall’s general store, studying the bin of apples in front of him. He wants to bring you the perfect one — the reddest, the shiniest, the biggest, hopefully the sweetest. After a moment of further consideration, he picks one up, taking it up to the register and paying for it, along with a length of ribbon and a packet of chalk. 

When he goes back outside, he tucks the apple and the chalk safely in one of his saddlebags, where a clutch of wildflowers are sticking out of the leather pocket. He ties them together with the ribbon, a satisfied — and slightly anxious — smile coming to his face. It’s important to him that you have a good day, and if he’s able to be a part of that, well…all for the better. 

He mounts up, careful not to jostle the little bouquet or bruise the apple, hoping none of the pieces of chalk will break on the way. Turning his horse toward the edge of town, where you have your little schoolhouse, he finds himself imagining your face when you see him, when he offers you his little gifts. He knows you well enough to be sure you’ll light up like he’s given you diamonds and gold. It’s just the sort of person you are, to appreciate everything people do for you, no matter how small. You have the purest heart of just about anyone Billy’s ever met, which makes you perfect for your job. 

“Who are those for, Billy?” 

Charlie’s voice pulls Billy out of his thoughts, which truthfully have meandered from your sweet nature to your sweet face, and he glances up to find Charlie grinning at him, nodding at the flowers poking out of his saddle bag. 

“Uh…” His face immediately starts to get hot, and though he ducks his head to hide his spreading blush, he knows it’s useless. 

“Your little schoolteacher again, huh?” Charlie’s grin widens. 

“Well…” Billy chuckles nervously. “Yeah. It’s the first day of school, y’know. I just, uh…wanted to give her a little somethin’.” 

He knows Charlie of all people won’t tease him too badly, but the rest of the boys seem to live for ribbing him every time he says he’s going to see you. He can’t help it if there’s something about you that makes his gentlemanly side — he takes comfort in knowing that’s what his mother would call it, at least — take over, even if you rarely actually ask him for help. 

All you have to do is mention the little stove warming your schoolroom is running low on firewood, or a fence around your little garden at home is falling down, or even that you’re hungry for a roast chicken — and before he knows it, Billy finds himself chopping a log in two, hammering in a fence post, stoking the coals to get them warm enough to cook dinner. He can’t help it. It’s like he’s addicted to seeing you smile up at him, your eyes gleaming with gratitude, as if he’s completed some Herculean task for you. The way you beam and grasp his arm, saying, “Aren’t you sweet?” sends a sweeter warmth surging through his veins than any glass of whiskey ever could. 

Not that he would ever admit that to anyone except you. 

Once, when he’d asked what was so goddamn funny — if he remembers right, it was after he’d mentioned he had brought a pretty lace handkerchief, also from Tunstall’s store — George Coe had only laughed harder, shaking his head. 

“Aww, Kid, we don’t mean anything by it…it’s sweet, really!” He’d chuckled again. “I dunno, it’s just — I never expected to see you wrapped around a girl’s finger like this. Especially not one who is so…”

Billy remembers frowning, ready to defend you if George said anything unkind. “Who’s so what?”

George had held up his hands in a defensive posture. “Hey, nothin’. She’s just so…well, y’know, sweet. It’s like a stray cat having a pet sparrow.”

He hadn’t liked that comparison. It had made him feel like there was a possibility he could hurt you, which he would never do. Sometimes, when he thinks about you as he’s drifting off at night, it occurs to him this might be love. He wants to be the one to make you happy, to take care of you. 

Maybe it’s because of his past that he’s so dedicated to this. Everyone he knows, even his friends like George and Charlie, look at him and see an outlaw — a leader, too, maybe, a brother in arms, but an outlaw all the same. Not you. All you see is Billy, your friend, your protector, your…well, not lover, quite yet, because the two of you have only kissed and cuddled on your bed. But it means the same thing, at least to him.

“See ya, Billy,” Charlie is saying, leaning over to pat him playfully on the shoulder as the two of you approach the schoolhouse. “Tell her I said hi, alright?”

“Sure.” 

Charlie keeps going, down the road out of town that leads to where the Regulators are staying, but Billy reins his horse in and jumps down, tying the reins to the hitching post. He tugs the little bouquet out of his saddle bag, tucking the chalk and the apple into his pocket. Billy mounts the front porch in one leap, knocking lightly on the door before poking his head in.

You look up from where you’re wiping down your desk with furniture polish. At once, you’re beaming at him, tossing the rag down and hurrying down the aisle between the desks. “Billy!” You stop as you see the flowers in his hand, smiling up at him. “Who are those for?”

He knows you aren’t playing around, asking him that question. You’d never assume that they’re for you, even though he’s been bringing you little gifts for going on a year now.

“For you, of course,” Billy says, offering them to you, and you giggle as you take them, inhaling their sweet perfume. “That’s not all.”

You look up at him, the hues of the wildflowers paling in comparison to your eyes. “Oh, Billy, you didn’t have to—”

“I know,” he says. “I know, I just wanted to, is all. C’mere.” 

He leads you back toward your desk, fishing the chalk from his pocket first, and then setting the apple on the freshly polished desk. You laugh again at the sight of the apple, and Billy grins, pleased that he’s made you happy. 

“An apple for my favorite teacher,” he says, rewarded with another giggle. “And I figured you always need chalk.”

“I do,” you confirm, and you reach up to wind your arms around his neck. “Thank you.”

He leans in to kiss you, and he sighs softly against your lips as he feels you melt into him, his hands finding your waist. “I’m glad you like ’em,” he says, when you finally break apart. “You know I’m crazy about you, don’t’cha?” 

You hide your face against his shoulder, and he just smiles, tightening his embrace around your waist. “I know,” you murmur. “I’m…I’m crazy about you, too.”

When you peek up at him, surveying him shyly from underneath your eyelashes, he smiles at you again. “Yeah?”

You nod, twin roses of color blooming on your cheeks. Billy bends his head to press his lips to each on in turn. You huff out a soft laugh, taking up one of his hands and lacing your fingers through his. “Will you come see me when class lets out?” you ask. “I wanna make you dinner.”

He smiles. “You don’t have—”

“I know,” you say, and you smile back at him. “I know, I just want to, is all. Will you come?”

“As if I’ll pass up the chance to see you,” he says. “I’ll be here as soon as you ring the bell.” 

He kisses you again, and the way you hold onto him makes warmth rush over him like he’s bathing in sunshine, starting from the top of his head and going to the soles of his feet. Three words rise to his lips, but he stamps them against your mouth instead of saying them out-loud. Not yet. He can hear kids starting to arrive, their bright voices filling the yard, and he knows you have work to do. 

“I’ll see you later, baby,” he says, and you nod, leaning up to kiss his cheek. 

Before he goes, he gives the kids a turn around the yard on his horse, managing to fit two or three in the saddle at a time. He knows you don’t mind, because you’re standing on the front porch, smiling at him in a way that makes him think — maybe — there was a certain phrase woven into your kiss, too.

He supposes he’ll find out after the bell rings. 

[changingplumbob]

How will the Yorks react to my plan to host a bachelorette challenge?

Deanna - Potential bachelorette Joey - Deanna's aromantic yet allosexual older brother Artemisia - Deanna's younger sister, has the evil trait Devin - 2 time Starlight Accolade winner for her acting career and Deanna's older sister Luna - Devin's wife, Deanna's sister in law Aaron - Deanna's pa (father) Calista - Deanna's ma (mother) Alfred & Rilian Villareal - Deanna's nephews

Joey: I assume you all know why I have gathered you here this evening

Artemisia: You contracted a WTD

Joey: What? No, we don't have the mods

Aaron: Look if you got someone pregnant we don't need all these theatrics

Devin: Excuse me pa? We always need theatrics

Joey: I didn't get anyone pregnant. This isn't about me, it's about Deanna

Deanna: Very funny

Joey: The watcher and I have decided you should star in a bachelorette challenge

Luna: Oh I love watching those! They're so romantic

Devin: Oh can I host? Please let me host!

Aaron: Cara your sister hasn't said yes to it

Joey: Let me give you my pitch. Tartosa is a perfect background for love. We invite a dozen or so ladies to come and get to know you Deanna, really know you. I think it could be a happily ever after for you

Deanna: I have university Joey

Devin: You have time between terms right? Oh please say yes De, my friend Norah would love to come help direct

Deanna: Aren't these things normally rather straight coded

Joey: In some dimensions, yes. But we live in a great world where homophobia is next to non existent

Devin: Except for Luna's dad, but he's not here now so its fine

Alfred & Rilian: RIP Jacques

Luna: *laughing* Wait- When did they learn to do that?

Artemisia: Ahhhh, Joey was talking

Joey: The point is we, the watcher and I, are bound to be able to find some women or non binary individuals who fit your tastes De. And we can get some family based challenges for them to compete in for extra time with you. Or get other celebrities or local businesses to feature

Calista: Oh we should ask the owners of Postres de Alegría! Maybe then I'll actually be able to get some of their pastries when I show up

Aaron: Tesoro you know if you want the raspberry tart you have to get there before midday. They can't not sell just because you might feel like a treat after your shift

Joey: If not Bob could help out, or he might know some people in Brindleton Bay who have niche interests we could use for a challenge or two

Aaron: I don't know that I like the idea of one of my bambina's pixel parts being on TV

Deanna: Yeah I second that opinion

Joey: We won't actually show any nudity, relax. Now Devin you can be host but I will obviously need to talk to any other watchers. Our watcher thinks it would be fun if they had some input about what skills their contestants would work on. If they don't she'll still need to know like orientations and official stuff

Luna: *sighs* Now you believe in multiple watchers?

Aaron: Joey has just always been rather devout

Deanna: I guess I am single...

Joey: You are

Deanna: And I'm definitely over Paris

Joey: Yes

Deanna: Reece will have to be allowed to do something or he'll pout

Joey: I can sort something. So, will you do it?

Deanna: Sure. I mean who doesn't want true love right?

I'm going to do it *internal screaming*! I'm going to start working on an intro post and some graphics so people know what the submissions need. Submissions will be open until Christmas but I'll push it out a week if needed. Ideally I would love to have households of six at a time, so I'll put slots up in groups of six as people show interest. I don't want to start off with 12 or 18 etc slots if I'll only get four sims. I'm realising a lot of my planning will need to know how many sims there are so I'll be opening up soon to help my brain.

Introductions, hosted by Devin, won't begin until mid January when most people are back from New Years holidays. So yeah, I was actually so nervous writing this all out, I need to calm down. Here's some basic Deanna info I'll put elsewhere to get the cogs in brains turning. This third child of an Italian family is studying physics with hopes of being an engineer but her main aspiration in life is Mansion Baron. She's a lesbian but I checked in game and sims with that orientation are able to flirt/form romantic attachments to non-binary people as well as cis or trans females.

[liquidcrystalsky]

i like grand festival maritime memory for many reasons, one because you can tell like. they really practiced at that one part where their feet are shuffling and they're singing calimari inkantation. the rest of the choreo is pretty easy and so at that little part they seem a lot more focused.

the choreography in general just feel like, they didnt make it, probably someone hired by them or the ppl hosting grandfest or some record label idk, because they're not really dancers/singers, callie's an actor and maries sort of a radio host or podcaster? deep cuts manager but that's sort of new? something with the nnss idfk

so they know how to dance but its been a really long while, so they can stay really well to the beat of the song and eachother, they're a little stiff and tired, but that might just be because it was the last day, but yeah it us a little funny how that one part has a lot more energy in it you can tell that was practiced so much.

that post about marina dancing really badly (lovingly) made me think, in general you can tell like, off the hook and deep cut are more independent just from their styles of dance.

deep cut feels like something the three of them put together and practiced a lot but its pretty simple and lot of room for improv, forgetting and doing your own thing, off the hook is just performing their music and having fun just doing that, maybe a bit of planning like "oh how about at this part i can do this" and all that you know

i'd love to talk more about this i did dance for 10 years and only kinda sucked at it but like. the choreography for the squid sisters just feels right at home for me lol

[pianostarinwonderland]

maybe skully isnt dead 🤯 [half copium half srs]

listen. ik ive been on copium for a while. ik we all are, ive seen twitter, tumblr, and everyone’s tags on my posts when they reblog

BUT PLS HEAR ME OUT. IM SO SERIOUS RN WHEN I SAY: if u wanna be technical about it, if u wanna stretch it out somehow, you can argue that the game never outright states that skully is dead, only that the skully we met was from hundreds of years ago.

“but mamsir pianostarinwonderland, how in the fuck can that be???? we HEARD that invisible kiss” LET ME COOKKKKKK 🔥🔥🔥 I SWEAR EVERYONE, I AM COOKING U JUST HAVE TO HEAR ME OUUUUUUUUUUUUUT— knocked out

Ok serious time, let me mansplain to you all the possibility of Skully being alive

Establishing first of all, Twst has kept Skully's nature vague

Simply put: we don't know if Skully is human. In his live 2D, Skully's ears are completely covered. Even in his illustration, we can barely see his ears. It's an interesting design choice. However, in his chibi (which wasn't revealed until Episode 5), we can see his ears aren't shaped like a fae, but are round like that of a human.

However, it's pretty hard to think he's human either, when we consider his "moshi, ne moshi" greeting in Episode 1 and its connection to the supernatural. Voiced, to be noted. Exactly what kind of creature he could be is currently unknown, but because this part was voiced, it's something we need to pay attention to at the very least.

In regards to his mortality, the only clue we're really given is Skully himself saying that he may never meet us except through Halloween, which implies a lifespan similar to a human or something similar. But Skully doesn't know how far into the future that the cast is from. Heck, does he even know of his nature?

Now, addressing that invisible kiss...

I feel like this is the main thing that told all of us that Skully is long gone. Heck, if you catch me in my right mind, I might just tell you that yeah, that should be enough proof that Skully is dead! Little signs from the dead such can manifest in similar ways to what Jamil and Leona sensed: hearing a kiss and feeling a kiss on your hand.

(unfortunately i'm not in my right mind so you're getting my dumb reasons why i'm arguing for otherwise)

However, if Skully is gone, I find it interesting that this is the way they decide to show it. We already know from the very first Halloween event that ghosts can manifest all year round in Night Raven College due to the high concentration of magical power in the area. Outside of that, they cannot be seen. If they really wanted to confirm with the audience that Skully is a ghost, they could have had him appear as such at the end, when they all returned to Night Raven College.

But they chose a scenario where people can draw a lot of conclusions from it: Is their senses getting fucked over as they wake up? Are they still reeling from the magic of the book? (though rationally, we know that Leona is not one to be easily stunned, so the first question is at the very least easy to dismiss)

I've also seen some people theorize that he's using invisibility magic during the invisible kiss scene. And well, while I find that funny, it makes me wonder if he could be some other kind of spirit that's not dead. Like an undead of some sort, which the residents of Halloween Town are. Heck, Azul's card line about Skully talks about how he seems to fit right at home with the Halloween Town residents. Again, we don't know Skully's true nature, but the possibility of him being a species that can turn invisible is interesting.

Moving on, we have what Dire Crowley stated about Skully

At the end of the event, Crowley tells us that he found Skully’s portrait while rummaging through the storage and shows it to us and the 11 boys who went inside the book

What he tells us is that Skully J. Graves is a NRC graduate from hundreds of years ago, before Crowley was Headmage. Note that he only was appointed for the position 100 years ago; the Skully we met is at least from around 200 years ago. During his NRC years, Skully got to share Halloween to NRC. It was a hit, and when he graduated, he spread Halloween all over the world in his travels.

I'd like to take a little detour first to discuss something that's been weighing on my mind: Some people have thought that Crowley is lying to us when he speaks about Skully and his achievements, but... I don't see why he would lie. For one, there is a decent chance that Crowley might not have gotten to see Skully. Even if he did, it's even more unsure if he was involved in Skully's affairs.

However, there's one main reason why I do think that Skully got to live a fulfilling life instead of facing an overblot that killed him or some other tragedy. I'd like to dedicate a longer post to this matter, but to make it concise, I think through Skully, Twst is starting to establish something new regarding their history. I think that historical teachings, folktales and stories, and rumors that are well-known tend to be lies or twisted truths. Whereas those that are obscure and not known are actually what occurred. Skully is called the King of Halloween who's done so much to spread the holiday to the world, yet not even NRC students, who should be the first to know considering that Skully is an alumna, know of him. Although there may be other reasons why that's the case, I like to think that at the very least, Skully's obscurity indicates that he did live the life he wanted and succeeded in working for a future that generations after him can enjoy.

Anyway, that actually isn't the main point of this section of the post, but I kind of want to air that out first. The main point is that Crowley only really said that Skully is a former NRC student from hundreds of years ago who traveled around the world to spread Halloween. But he never told us where he was buried or whether he saw his ghost roaming NRC. He never said anything about Skully being dead.

He probably said the hundreds of years ago bit, carrying the assumption that of course, Skully may have passed away. But we have to remember that we have long-living species in Twisted Wonderland. Fae that were students 200 years ago are very likely to be alive now. Crowley himself is a long-living creature, having been Headmage for 100 years. I think with that in mind, it's important for him to emphasize that Skully's gone if he really is. But he never mentioned it. Therefore, there is a good chance that Skully might just be somewhere else. That or Crowley just doesn't give a fuck where his alumni go, and I might be thinking too deeply about the absence of certain words. Honestly, that's a pretty good chance too.

Lastly, we have the scene where Jack Skellington gets shot down but survives it

Here's where it gets a bit more into speculation, but you're going to have to hear me out.

In the movie, Jack Skellington gets shot down by the military for impersonating Santa Claus. When the Halloween Townspeople watched it, they all despaired, and the mayor started declaring to all that Jack has been blown to smithereens and proclaimed him dead.

But that's not what happened: we find Jack landing on an angel's statue, alive and definitely not blown to smithereens.

And considering that Skully is still very much twisted from Jack Skellington... do you think the writers are pulling a similar move? Making us think that he's dead, just as the townspeople thought he was dead, only for us to learn eventually that he's alive.

This of course depends on what happens eventually in the sequel. From the way things are proceeding, what happened in the Lost in the Book with TNBC is events prior to the movie, and we could very well have the sequel be set during the movie events. (If you ask me, I kind of doubt that actually. I feel like Skellington got inspired by Skully's love for Halloween, enough to stay true to his identity as the Pumpkin King, which would mean the movie wouldn't happen the way we know it. So if anything, I feel like TNBC 2 would focus less on the actual movie and more on the side games where Oogie takes over Halloween Town and even kidnaps Santa and other people, but I admit, that's a stretch, especially considering that we will get Santa giving Halloween Town a taste of Christmas)

Of course, this post is really just to let some of my copium out. Rn, it's still safe to assume that yea, Skully's dead. And though I am coping hard for Skully to be alive, with the way Twst treats the dead, it's not exactly a bad thing. Ghosts continue to stay in NRC like they're living people. They honor the dead, and let the dead live among them. And even if he is in the afterlife and not stuck in the mortal plane, I have faith that Skully did live a fulfilling life that may have been forgotten but clearly changed the world. :'D

[saintzweig]

pls make a fic on patrick hovering over reader while they’re trying to study. intentionally distracting and disturbing them for an ounce of attention !!

funny you ask for this because i'm supposed to be studying for my midterms. THIS IS GNA BE MY LAST POST I NEED TO STUDY (crucify me if you see me post).

patrick visiting stanford after months on tour, desperate to see and feel you to make up for the times he had to settle for phone sex. unfortunately for him, he picked the wrong time because its your exams week and you have too much on your plate. he lays on your bed, sighing out loud numerous times and groaning for your attention to which you only rolled your eyes. he couldn't take it anymore and walked over to where you sat by your desk, placing his hands on your shoulder and crouching down so his lips are right next to your ear.

"can't you take a break? it'll be quick, i promise" his hands trail down to grope your chest, making your breath hitch. his warm breath on your skin and his large hands feeling you made you clench your thighs, which of course didn't go unnoticed.

"can't pat, i have to study or i'll fail" you huffed, trying to ignore the ache between your legs.

he chuckled, "you're not gonna fail by giving your boyfriend, who you haven't seen for months, atleast five minutes of attention" moving down slightly to attach his lips to your neck, leaving trails of sloppy kisses.

"i'm gonna fail if i don't study" his hands are now under your shirt, feeling your stiff nipples.

"then i'll help you, yeah?" he pull his hands out to grab the stack of flashcards on your desk before pulling you up and dragging you to the bed. he sits down and pulls you down to your knees, right between his legs.

now your mouth is around his cock, gagging while he reads you questions– if you get an answer right, you get to kiss the tip and if you get an answer wrong, he gets to push your head down.

you passed the exams, which he arrogantly took all credit for but you can't say that he didn't help. he's definitely expecting some sort of reward for helping you as if he was the one that took the test :)

[hina-hina]

Hi bestie! I really love you’re writing and was wondering if you could maybe do a fic where Ghost and reader have a kid who absolutely prefers their dad over anyone else- and Ghost is just so confused about it. The brainrot has me bad lmao

Hello friend!! We can make this a sort of unofficial sequel to the other Ghosh with a child headcanon post because its just so cute (★‿★) Thank you for requesting!!

|| Ghost x Reader with a Child that Prefers their Dad to Anyone Else ||

Warnings: tiny amount of angst

Gender-neutral!Reader // Romantic

Ghost had always been quite scared to be a father

I mean, we all know what his was like

He was determined to not be anything like his father but he would always have fears of hurting your kid

During pregnancy, he would have nightmares about it and then would feel guilty for waking you up

Lots of late nights were spent assuring him that he was going to be a great dad

So when the child is actually born, he is so shocked when they just cling to him

It starts even when they're a baby

Like, the kid would just start crying and nothing would sooth them until Ghost held him

He is so shocked and just stares at you with wide eyes as the baby immediately stops crying

You find it very funny

He is very concerned

Whenever he has to go back to work, he is so worried to leave the two of you

Not only because he's scared something will happen to you, but also because he knows the baby is going to freak out on you

And yeah, he was definitely right about that

You were so stressed out the first time it happened

Eventually the baby gets used to him being gone but still will throw fits like that sometimes

They love seeing their dad on video calls, never fails to brighten their mood

As the kid gets older, they begin insisting on helping with the care packages you send Ghost

They would write their own (heavily misspelled) letter to him and draw lots of pictures for him

He pins each one up in his barracks

They would also, with your help, make him cookies or other sweets

Ghost was never really big on desert but he still doesn't even share with the others in 141

When Ghost comes back, he will take them to have just a day with the two of them

He would of course make time for a date night with you and a outing with all three of you as well

They love every minute of it, non-stop talking and telling Ghost about school and other stuff that has happened while hes gone

He listens quietly, never even daring to tell them to slow down or not talk as much

When ever he has to go back on an assignment, it's always a messy affair

Lots of tears, lots of hugging and begging him not to leave again

He doesn't want to and an early retirement is looking more and more pleasing

But he would just hold them as the two of you explain that his work is very important and that he'll call whenever he can

The kid would still end up crying themselves to sleep, leaving both of their parents teary eyed

He loves bringing gifts back to them

Brags about his kids achievements to Soap

Looks forward to the video calls whenever things get hard on the field

Even if he was dead tired, he would still make time to jump on call with the two of you

Looks forward to coming home after every assignment the most

[ferigrieving]

kiss me (until my lips fall off).

⊹ ࣪ ˖ kiss me until my lips fall off / kiss me until i start to rot

⤷ masterlist ; requests open

your copy of dracula was well worn. its cover had irreparable water damage, peeling in the corners, and a concerning amount of tabs sticking out of its side. it was well worn, post-it notes on every other page, and indecipherable annotations crammed in every open space. 

tokoyami had looked at you like you were holding a bomb when you had handed him the book, convinced that the manuscript for the original was in your hands with the state it was in.

now he found himself at his desk, pouring over the book, while you lounged on his bed, idly flipping through a FRUiTS magazine.

“have you seen my quill, love?” the boy across from you inquired, rummaging through his drawers to no avail. 

“mm. i ate it, sorry.” you giggled, rolling over and placing the magazine back where it belongs.

he raised a brow at you. “haha. real funny.” he huffed, continuing looking through his drawers, mumbling something about always replacing things. 

rolling your eyes, you reached under the bed and rummaged around, pulling out one of the many things you had hidden a multitude of his things. with the tip of your wing, you dropped it in front of him, not without a light shove to the shoulder.

with a click of his beak, he thanked you, turning and dipping it into his near-empty inkwell. you made a mental note to buy a new one when you went out.

you watched tokoyami with amusement as he meticulously flipped through the pages of your battered book, careful not to rip or tear anything, as if that would make any difference. his furrowed brow and intense focus were a stark contrast to how you laid on his bed, borderline falling asleep. 

you had read thru this issue more times than you could count, and you decided watching him struggle with the book was more than enough to keep you entertained.

as fought to decipher what exactly was going on in your annotations, you couldn't help but admire the way his silhouette was illuminated by the soft glow of his many candles. 

the room felt cosy, and you figured it would only seem that way to the two of you, and maybe that one bird pro-hero you had forgotten the name of. his bed resembled that exactly of a bird’s nest, except it was made with pillows, stolen stuffed animals, and layers and layers of comforters.

feathers were jammed between each and every pillow, ranging in size and colour, but most were that of either his, or yours, a result of being too lazy to clean them up after moulting. in the corners of the bed, stuffed animals of various shapes and sizes were nestled, the only pop of colour in the entire room. among them were different birds of prey, but a majority were either ravens, or crows, meticulously arranged as if they were guarding the two of you as you slept.

“hey,” he started. “have you read wuthering heights?”

tokoyami knew the answer. of course he did. he had watched you attempt to read it during lunch, and put it down after ten pages. you had told him that you didnt have the brain capacity right for it at the moment. he never saw you pick it up again.

“...yeah.”

“you have not. otherwise you would have rambled about it in excruciating detail by now.” he tapped his quill against the table, huffing. “i was thinking we could go to the library to check another book like it. one that takes less brain power, of course.”

“on a date? how sweet.” you grinned, sitting up and tucking your knees to your chest.

“i suppose it is.” he quipped, standing up and making his way over to you. “you’ve been laying in bed all day, love. my legs are going numb.”

he tucked into bed beside you, laying his head on your lap and playing with the tips of your feathers. “do i now?” you wrap your wings around his body in some sort of makeshift cocoon, making up for the blanket you were hogging.

you loved these moments of affection between you two. you pressed a kiss on his forehead, and he responded with a grumble, pressing his face into your stomach. tokoyami lay there with you for a solid ten minutes before glancing at the clock.

“love,” he sighed.” “we should probably get dressed, lest we wish to not make it to the library before it closes.”

“that means i’d have to get up!” 

“a horrific possibility.” he hummed.” “we could always go tomorrow, if you are feeling lazy.” he stood up, stretching and ruffling his feathers. “however, we both know that neither of us will be awake before noon tomorrow, so lets just go now, okay?”

you pout, removing your wings as some sort of punishment as you turn away from him.

he raised a brow. “what an injustice. i offer to go on a date with you, and you refuse to get out of bed. im going to have to resort to violence it seems.

in one swift move, he pinned you down on his bed, an indistinguishable smile on his face. “i suppose ill have to drag you to the library.”

“nooo…!” you whined, thrashing playfully.

he giggled, kissing the side of your jaw. “oh, dont be so overdramatic, dear. its just a couple of books, and perhaps some food afterwards. is that so bad?” he gave you another kiss, and another, and another, until your whole face was tingly from the feeling of his beak against your skin.

“are ya’ gonna treat me to dinner, fumi’?”

“thats not even a question, of course i will, my love. now come on, we have a library to go to.” he hummed, pulling you up along side him. “lets get dressed, then we can go on our date.” hopping to his feet, he opened his closet, sorting through until he found something suitable.

“love, where is my vest?”

you looked away from him, buttoning up your dress shirt as you pointedly ignore the vest wrapped around your body.

he smiled, chuckling as he nudged you in the stomach. “where did you even find that?” without waiting for a response, he grabbed one of your vests that you had left in his room the day prior and pulled it on over his band tee.

you’re wearing borderline the exact same outfit, as always. “so, are you ready?”

he grabbed his keys off his desk, and shoved them in his pocket. without saying another word, he pulled you out of bed once more, and began to tug you out the door. “lets go, my darling.”

tokoyami, pulling you down the street, thumb rubbing over the back of your palm. “do you wanna fly, my love?” you grinned.

with one large flap of your wings  you propelled yourself up into the air with tokoyami in your grasp. he could fly too, and you often launched him into the air after you like some sort of rocket launcher. the sight of the city below you two was always breathtaking. you could never get tired from seeing the world so high up.

tokoyami, of course, was holding onto you for dear life. flying was all fun and games right up until the moment when it wasnt.

this time, he held on tight, the wind whipping through his feather, his face buried in your neck. all he could smell was the strawberry of your perfume. he was content like this, holding onto you for his life, as the two of you approached the library.

as you landed, pulling him onto the ground with you, tokoyami’s knees wobbled. he clutched your shoulder for dear life, not trusting in his body to stay upright and not embarrass him.

“you’re  a nightmare, love. i swear, one of these days–” he started, walking through the library entrance after you. “one of these days, what? “

he glanced away, muttering something about ‘one of these days im going to have a stroke.” 

he let go of your hand for the first time since leaving, and led you through the shelved. he paused occasionally, skimming his fingers over the dust jackets. “you never did tell me what you were looking for.” he commented idly.

“anything but wuthering heights, maybe a little life. i heard shoji talk about it over lunch.”

he chuckled, running his fingers over a shelf dedicated to fantasy. “of course you’d pick one of the most depressing books to read over spring break. you’re such a romantic.”

“love you too, fumi’.”

he shook his head, a small smile on his face. “i love you too, dearest.”

he finally stopped at the gothic lit section, and you watched his eyes light up. tokoyami walked  along the section, examining each book. he pulled a few books from the shelf, and began flipping through one. “the picture of dorian grey. i’ve been meaning to pick this up.

he flipped through a few more, and added another few books to the ever growing stack he and dark shadow held. the bird was not pleased about it, and cawed something about ‘children’s books’.

you rolled your eyes, and took some of the books from the bird, placing them gently in the basket you held. tokoyami had something of a frown on his face, trying to take the books back from you. “i can carry them just fine myself, love.”

“yeah, but then you wont be able to get more, dumbass.”

he stared at you in shock, placing his hand over his chest in mock hurt. “how rude. is this how you show your love for me? calling me names?”

“blah blah blah, i dont wanna fuckin’ here it, fumi’!” you grin, taking a seat at one of the many tables littered around the library. tokoyami set his books down at the table, and crossed his arms. he stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around you and placing a kiss on your neck. his head rested on your shoulder. tokoyami seemed unwilling to let you go, and you weren’t inclined to fight him.

“i love you, evem if you dont listen to me. and take my books. and call me names.”

“i love you too, bird brain. now, lets go check out, yeah?”

tokoyami grumbled something unintelligible underneath his breath, but nodded anyways. he released his hands from your waist slowly, and grabbed the cart of books. 

“did you forget your card again..?”

he scoffed as you led him towards the front desk, placing the books down at the counter. “me? never.” tokoyami reached into his pocket, averting his gaze when he realised he had in fact, forgotten his card.

“i swear you do this deliberately.” you commented from beside him, already pulling out your card.”

“i dont, i promise!” he defended himself, feathers bristling at the accusation.

“yeah, yeah. whatever man.” you roll your eyes and scan all the books, handing it back to your boyfriend to place in his tote bag.

he grumbled, mock offended. “i know, im horrible. im the worst.” tokoyami waited impatiently as you sorted through the books. he was beginning to become restless, rocking back and forth on his heels, dark shadow whining and tugging on your wings.

“mhm, sure. is there anythin’ else you wanna do while we’re out, fumi’?” you hummed, holding the door open for him as he left. the sun had set, casting the buildings across from you in bright hues of orange. “anything but fly home.” tokoyami huffed, purposefully stepping on your toes. 

“can’t make any promises, love.”

“ah, you’re a horrible person.”

“love you too.”

keeping your silent promise, you walked through the streets of musutafu, one hand on your tote bag, and the other intertwined with your boyfriend’s. he had awfully cold hands for a warm blooded animal. you were planning on beelining straight to the dorms and curling up in tokoyami’s room to read, but god forbid you dont get a sweet treat when you can.

you found yourself in front of an array of pastries, all catching your eye in their own unique way. you werent particularly picky when it game to baked goods, as long as it was good. asking your boyfriend was no help either, he was like an eightball with only two answers. “i have no idea,” and “whatever looks good to you, my love.”

“just a dozen brownies, please, ma’am?” you smiled, placing the yen on the tray and taking the box gently. you watched tokoyami reach into his pocket to presumably pay, but it was clear that he not only had forgotten his library card, but his whole wallet.

he took your hand once more outside of the local cafe you had just visited, dark shadow opening the box of brownies and shoving them in his beak. “so good,” he mumbled through a mouthful of chocolate.”

“stop talking when you have food in your mouth, weirdo!” you smacked him with your wings playfully, sticking your tongue out at him in fake disgust.

he rolled his eyes, waving a brownie in your face. “you want one, darling?”

“well, i was saving those for when we got back home, but someone decided to get a head start. not gonna name names though.”

“stop complaining ! i know for a fact you want one.”

“i do! but if– if i eat them now, i wont have any later..” you pouted, taking the brownie and placing it back in the box neatly.

“seriously, love. i cant believe youre passing up an opportunity to eat something sweet.” he tutted, taking the brownie he had offered to you and swallowing it whole. “what kind of monster are you?”

“a terrible, terrible, one, that only an aspiring pro-hero can tame…”

he stood up on his tip-toes, bumping his beak against your cheek in a ‘kiss’. “unfortunately, i have come to love this dreaded monster.”

you find yourself close to the dorms, and without warning, you pick tokoyami up like a sack of potatoes and launch yourself up into the air, giggling as you shot through his window and landed in a heap on his bedroom floor.

as always, tokoyami was not particularly fond of your behaviour. he was muttering something along the lines of ‘god, kill me now.’ and ‘why did i even agree to this relationship.’ 

after a few minutes, he sat up, and gave his best attempt at a scowl as you could get with a face like his. “do you derive some form of sick, twisted delight by doing that?”

“...a little.”

he sighed and shook his head. he knew better to argue by now. all that mattered were that the brownies were in one piece. he got to his feet, dusting himself off before offering a hand to help you up. “the things i do for love.”

“aww, you love me? how sweet.” you crooned, placing your hands together and twirling him around.

“of course i love you, dear.” he said, taking your hand and lifting up to his beak, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.. “its horrible.”

tokoyami tugs you closer, slinging his arms around your waist and pulling you down onto the rug. he placed another kiss on your forehead, “absolutely horrible.”

he sighed, burying his head in the crook of your neck. “why did i ever agree to date you? i was so normal before you, y’know.”

“youre literally like the least normal person i know, fumikage.”

he gave you a pointed look, “and you think youre normal, dear? youre anything but normal. youre… insane.”

“hey. i never said anythin’ about myself now.” you hummed, feeling yourself become drowsy from how comfortable it was laying in each others arms. it was oddly comfortable on your boyfriend’s floor. “i think… ill just fall asleep here. forget the books.” you felt yourself get lifted up by the waist, getting hauled over to tokoyami’s bed and flopping you down like a ragdoll. “we can start the book later, my love.” he shifted around a little, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close.

it was quiet, for a moment, a comfortable silence you’d grown to love. 

“dear?”

“yes, love?”

“...stay here?” tokoyami inquired, voice barely above a whisper. you mumbled an ‘mhm.’ against his neck, he was so warm.

you were fighting a battle against sleep and loosing. “read to me, fumi’.” you murmured.

you felt him nod, moving your wings out of the way to reach over to his desk and grab your copy of dracula. he flipped through the pages once more, searching for the handmade bookmark you had given to him on valentine’s day. his voice was soft, the monotonous hum lulling you into a deeper sleep.

not even five minutes had past before he felt your wings go limp, and when he looked up from his book, he found you passed out on his lap, a bit of drool seeping our your mouth. gross.

he gently closed the book and put it back where it belonged, and rolled over, wrapping his arms around you once more. 

in nothing but the soft glow of the moonlight, tokoyami watched as you drifted off into a peaceful sleep, breathing steady and serene. with a smile, he leaned down to brush a stray locke of hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear gently. 

carefully, he adjusted his position, making sure not to ruffle your feathers as he held you close. your warmth was intoxicating. he felt like he couldnt get enough of you.

with a contented sigh, he closed his eyes, allowing himself tosuccumb to the soothing rhythm of your breathing, knowing as long as you were by his side, he was exactly where he belonged.

[tyrantisterror]

You seem to have been enjoying Baldur's Gate III a lot. Would you mind giving your thoughts on the individual companions? I'm just curious to see what your take on them is.

Yeah sure! The game's been rotting my brain for months now in part because of its character writing, so I can stand to gush about the companions a bit.

Before we get to the companions individually, I want to talk about them as a group, because one of the things that makes this game so impressive to me is its commitment to its core themes, and that extends to how the companions were crafted as a group. See, each of the core six companions have the following things in common:

The mindflayer tadpole that threatens to turn them into a monster against their will (i.e. the thing that gets them all together on a quest)

A personal history of being abused and exploited by someone they trusted

A Want that comes as a result of their personal history of abuse that is self destructive but understandable given their circumstances

A Need that comes as a result of their personal history of abuse that they have written off or ignored because their past makes them think fulfilling it is impossible

A point in their character arc where they will come into conflict with the player character if the player character tries to advocate for their Need over their Want. If the player values the Want over the Need, the relationship will initially go smoother, but end badly.

The overall theme of Baldur's Gate 3 can be loosely summed up in one of its major recurring songs, I Want to Live, and that's ultimately what each character's arc is a variation of: the desperate desire to live in a world that has been trying to kill your mind, body, and soul to the best of its ability. Got it? Cool, we can talk about the characters now that we've got this established.

Oh, and, uh, this game covers some... HEAVY themes, given that abuse is one of the common denominators between the companions. I'm going to try to be gentle in talking about it, but this will cover some of that subject matter, so this is your warning if you want to avoid that.

Companion 1: Astarion, My Bisexual Awakening

I'm going to start with the companion I feel is the most talked about/popular/overexposed I suppose, Astarion. I feel like anyone with even the vaguest knowledge of Baldur's Gate 3 probably recognizes Astarion at this point, even if it's just as "that annoying vampire twink I'm sick of seeing." There's already a growing "he's popular so he sucks" movement about Astarion here on tumblr and at the cesspool of hate known as Twitter, because of course there is, he's popular, ergo he must suck.

...

I think Astarion is one of the best written video game characters of all time.

There's this one great tumblr post that summarizes Astarion's role in the narrative really well, with the great punchline of "Astarion is kinda like if they sexualized gollum," which is not only funny but perfectly accurate. I can't really top that, so I'm just going to talk around some of its points a bit, but I highly recommend reading it yourself, it's more concise and well-thought out than whatever this ramble will be.

But, ok, so, "I Want to Live" is our theme, right? Astarion is dead. Dead to begin with, Marley style. He has been killed, at a young age, before his time. Sure, he was brought back to a sort of life, being a vampire and a member of the undead and all, but the life he knew is gone. All the pathos one can mine from being a vampire is played up here, for as Astarion himself notes, he's not even a full fledge vampire, but a vampire spawn - "All of the drawbacks, few of the perks." Worse, as a vampire spawn, he's magically bound to the will of the vampire that turned him - forced to live out his undead life as a slave to a sadistic monster that abused him in every way a person can be abused.

Which is why Astarion is the only companion who's entirely thankful for the mindflayers kidnapping him and implanting a tadpole in his head - because they broke that magic connection to his master, and gave him resistances to many of the stock vampire weaknesses to boot (hungry tadpole doesn't want its meat suit burning in the sun, after all). Astarion's life was so fucked that getting a brain-eating parasite was a unilateral improvement.

But while the magic connection is severed, the psychological affect of the abuse Astarion suffered lingers. His master made him use sex as a lure to bring victims to his lair, and so Astarion still believes that he has to offer people sex to "earn his keep" - that his body is a tool for others to use for their gratification, and if he refuses their desires he puts his life at peril. Astarion hates putting himself out to help other people not only because no one has done that for him during his long undead life, but because doing so puts his life at risk. Astarion is power hungry - his Want is to be as strong, no, stronger than his master, so that way he can never be afraid again. Astarion Wants to be a true vampire.

His need, however, is to find value in the life he has now. He needs people who love him for who he is, not what he can offer, and who will protect him the way he has needed protecting for hundreds of years. His need is to be shown that kindness isn't a weakness, that charity is possible, that power does not have to be gained through selfish and cruel means. You're shown this in the game's approval mechanic - while Astarion will disapprove of you putting yourself out on a limb for others and revealing sensitive information freely, he has a soft spot for whenever you help someone who, like him, is being exploited. Because while he'll protest otherwise, Astarion wants to believe kindness is possible, and that the horrible things he's suffered don't define him. Astarion may believe he's just a tool to serve others' desires, but that doesn't mean he doesn't wish to be more than that.

And I know the cynics among you are like "Oh, ok, so the cute vampire twink has a ludicrously tragic backstory. How is that original or good writing?" Because that's the thing, right? If there's an effeminate, brooding bad boy character that lots of teenage girls like in a piece of media, it HAS to be shallow wangst at its core. Every tumblr sexyman is just Edward Cullen when you cut past the bullshit, right?

Like, I know I'm not going to convince the "Thing popular so thing bad" crowd on Astarion's quality no matter how many words I write, but, like, there is a reason for the hype. Dude's got fucking layers! The different interactions with him you can have, the dimensions you can bring out of him by how you choose to engage with him, all paint this great tapestry of a character who takes the concept of a vampire and explores it to a depth few pieces of media have every plunged to.

And he's fucking funny! Dude's got some of the best lines in the game, and his voice actor didn't just give him a sexy sultry voice, but, like, shades of Tim Curry that make him endearingly weird and goofy and witty as hell while still being very sexy.

And yes, he's a sexy vampire, that's a big point in his favor and what most people are dwelling on. And I'm standing by the sexy part - listen, for the past few years I've been kind of wrestling with whether or not I'm bisexual, and the question was laid to rest the first time this fucker flirted with me in game. My heart raced, my cheeks flushed, I reflexively giggled and went "Whoo!" like a Southern Belle in need of a feinting couch. Every time he's flirted with me since has given me the fucking vapors. Thank you, Astarion, I'm bi for sure now. you solved that fucking riddle pretty decisively.

Let's move on.

Companion 2: Shadowheart, A Fellow Lapsed Catholic

Shadowheart is a bundle of contradictions. She's got some of the best quips and quickest wits in the game, and she's also a huge fucking dork. She is oozing with confidence about the role she's been assigned to play and is incredibly assertive in group social situations, but on her own she's a mess of insecurities and is constantly plagued with doubts about her worth. She's constantly preaching about the need to be pragmatic and self-focused, but loves it whenever you are kind and generous. Depending on your choices during the tutorial level, she can become the first ride-or-die party member you get, and she's also a miserable pile of secrets who is terrified of you discovering what she really is.

See, Shadowheart is a cleric of Shar, the Goddess of Darkness, which is both in a literal and figurative sense - that is, Shar is the goddess of night and the absence of light, but, like, also the goddess of loss, and sorrow, and hopelessness, and secrets, and lies. The Goddess of Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss, basically. Being raised to follow the goddess has plagues Shadowheart with guilt over the secrets she's had to keep, the cruelties she's had to inflict, and the distance she's kept from all people in her life as a result of the church's creed. If you're a nerd who comes into this game knowing who Shar is, you'd probably be immediately suspicious of Shadowheart when you find out her alleigance, because Shar's basically one of the more prominent evil gods whose followers are always fucking things up for everyone.

However, I did not come into this game knowing that, but I did come into it knowing what's it's like to be raised in a religion that teaches you that many of your natural desires for companionship are wrong and to feel guilt and paranoia over how your every action will be judged, for like Shadowheart, I am also a Catholic.

Shadowheart's Want is to become a Dark Justiciar, which is basically the Sharran equivalent of the Spanish Inquisition, and to fully prove her devotion to Shar's will. The way she talks about Shar is so thickly coded with the way children of abusive parents talk about said parents that's it's legitimately frightening to witness at times. Shadowheart doesn't blame Shar for hurting her, she knows it's her fault for disappointing Shar in the first place.

Shadowheart's Need is to leave the fucking Catholic church. Depending on your choices, she can accomplish this with the help of two moon-worshipping lesbians, at which point she dyes her hair a color that would piss off her parents Shar and proceeds to indulge in a somewhat hedonistic rebellion of self actualization that only a lapsed Catholic can fully comprehend. I love her.

Companion 3: Lae'Zel, The World's Most Loyal Toad

Ok, so, brief tangent: one of my favorite games of all time is Dragon Age Origins, and it is one of my favorite games of all time in part because it has Morrigan, one of the best characters in all of fantasy fiction, fuck you fight me. Morrigan is a divisive character in the DA fandom because she is notoriously hard to please if you're trying to be a good person - it was so prominent a criticism, in fact, that "Morrigan Disapproves" was put on a fucking t-shirt to play on/monetize the controversy.

But, see, the thing about Morrigan is that she's 1. incredibly complex and 2. designed to challenge your worldview, and to be challenged in turn. Morrigan isn't just an evil bitch, she has a genuine philosophy for why she behaves as coldly as she does, which in part stems from her awful upbringing by her cruel, selfish hermit mother who was trying to shelter her from an even crueller world that would see her in chains just for being a witch. Morrigan has been taught that love is a weakness others will exploit, that kindness is folly, and that everyone is out for themselves. And you need to contradict her on that - getting to know her inevitably involves fighting her on this point, and you proving to her that the cruelty she's been taught is wrong. If you are willing to listen, to argue, to truly understand this character, she grows because of you. It makes her character arc so fucking satisfying, when you get to the end of the game and she realizes that she does love you, she does want to be kind, and that even though she now feels more accutely than ever how love has made her weak, she can't be without it. It's so fucking good.

I bring Morrigan up because almost all the companions in Baldur's Gate 3 are on her level, in part because they are designed like her - to challenge you and be challenged in turn. And none of the core six are more like her than Lae'zel.

Which, sadly, includes the fan backlash part. A lot of fans of the game hate Lae'zel - she's too mean, they say, too hostile, to proud of her strange and callous worldview, too critical of our normal and kind outlook, too difficult to relate to.

These people are cowards.

If Shadowheart is Catholic, then Lae'zel is, like, Christian Reformed. A fundie. She's been training at Githyanki Bible Camp for years to be her lichqueen's perfectly loyal soldier, only to run into this minor snag of being kidnapped by Mindflayers, the ancestral enemies of her people, and infected with a tadpole that will turn her into one of them, the Worst Fate that can become a Githyanki. Luckily, she's read all of her people's Chick Tracts, and knows that if she can get to one of the Githyanki creches, they can use their special machine to pray the tadpole out of her brain and save her.

Lae'zel has drunk the metaphorical kool-aid of her people, but only to a point. See, Githyankis are viciously racist, but Lae'zel is REALLY quick to accept you and most of the other companions (not Shadowheart, though, as like a true Fundie, she cannot stand a Catholic) despite them not being Giths like herself. Yeah, she'll preen and posture about the superiority of her kind a bit, but she sides with you within seconds of meeting you, and from that point on she is ride or die until you give her a good reason to think otherwise. Lae'zel can be mean, stubborn, and arrogant, but she is above all else loyal.

Her Want is to be a perfect Githyanki warrior, earning the respect of her queen and serving her endlessly in the Astral Plane. Of course, when you actually get to that creche she's pointing you towards early in the game, this all falls apart on her, because just like Fundamentalist Christianity, Githyanki culture is little more than a sham designed to uphold an evil and exploitative power structure where the rich drain the life and resources of everyone beneath them and declare it the will of the divine. In this case, that "drain the life" part is explicitly literal, as the Githyanki queen literally devours the life force of any gith that gets even a bit close to rivaling her in power. If Lae'zel tries to follow her dream, it will end with her queen eating her soul.

Lae'zel's Need is to not only break out of her culture's indoctrination, but to find a way to make her life worthwhile on her own terms. It's heartbreaking to witness, honestly, because unlike the other core companions, Lae'zel has no idea what a life outside of her Want looks like. What is she without serving her queen? What the hell does she want? If you've been taught God your queen is all that is good, then how the fuck you you figure out what good is when you realize she's actually evil?

And while she goes through this seriously traumatic existential crisis, she finds the energy to be invested in the struggles of you and your companions. When the other characters are going through The Shit in their respective arcs, Lae'zel is always quick to note that she thinks they are strong and deserve more than they're getting - even Shadowheart, that fucking Catholic!

Because the first word you'd ever use to describe Lae'zel, the one that most succinctly captures who she is, is LOYAL. She fucking rocks, I love her.

Companion 4: Wyll, The Unjustly Underrated

Almost no one talks about Wyll and it fucking sucks, man. I mean, we all know why (it starts with a Ra and ends in a Cism), but still it fucking blows dude. And yes, I include myself in this, anyone who's followed my blog can tell that Wyll's not the companion I fixate on the most.

But listen, I promise you, if the game let me take along four companions instead of three, Wyll... would be competing with Lae'zel for spot #4, and Lae'zel might win out because she's an angry girl, but... fuck I'm losing the plot.

Wyll is great though! He's severely underrated! He's one of the nicest companions you'll get, first of all, but he's not just a nice guy. Everyone's got layers in this, right? Wyll is nice, but he's also a bit arrogant - a glory hound, really. He's the only companion who's given himself a superhero name, and he routinely uses it. Dude wants to be fuckin' Batman so bad, it's wonderful.

He's also the most actively fucked member of the party. Everyone's got abusers in their past, but Wyll's is the only one who's followed him to your camp. Mizora, the devil he sold his soul too, frequently shows up to give him shitty tasks and shittier punishments, and is one of the most hateful fucking characters I have ever encountered in my life. Like, to put this in perspective: if you know me, you know that I have certain... preferences... when it comes to women. So if there was, say, a demon lady character who's also a bit of a dominatrix, and I fucking hated her guts, you'd probably be a bit surprised given, you know, my preferences.

But the way Mizora treats Wyll? The way she talks about him and to him? It's fucking heinous. She's not fun evil, she's evil evil, and she's got to fucking go.

It kind of reframes Wyll's kindness and cockiness as you experience it, because beneath the showy acts of heroism and the bluster, Wyll is a sad little dog in a burning apartment telling himself "this is fine!" over and over again.

Wyll's Want is to be a hero and make the sacrifice of his soul worth something. He has accepted that there is no redemption for himself, that Mizora preying upon his vulnerability in the past is something he can never recover from, that he cannot be free of her chains, and only hopes to use what time he has to do some good, even if it inevitably comes at the cost of his life.

His Need is to break out of Mizora's control, to wrest his fate back into his own hands, and to prove what has always been true: that he IS the hero he's selling himself as. It's a real Rango arc if you think about it.

Companion 5: Gale, The Friend With the Messiest Fucking Love Life You've Ever Heard Of Goddamn

Gale... kind of breaks the companion formula, a little bit? Like, for the other five core companions, there is a clear-cut situation where they were abused and exploited by an asshole - Shar exploited Shadowheart, Cazador the master vampire exploited Astarion, Mizora exploits Wyll, etc. Gale's fucked up traumatic relationship is a bit... messier, and harder to untangle, because by his own admission, he was not blameless in it.

Gale is a wizard, and like all good wizards in fiction, he's a bit of a mad scientist. He was so good at wizarding, in fact, that the goddess of magic itself, Mystra, reached out to him, and eventually the two had a little romance. Now, fans have gone back and forth interpreting this, with some saying that Mystra was grooming Gale from childhood and thus is as bad as Cazador/Shar/Mizora/et cetera. I feel that's kind of a bad faith reading of the character, one that's actively ignoring the concept of what an ageless immortal goddess is to try and fit it into a human context.

For nerds who know about the setting, Mystra is NOT an evil goddess like Shar. In fact, she's kind of a vitally important goddess to have around, as Magic is such an integral part of the reality of this setting that not having a god of some sort for it results in an fucking extinction event - which the characters in the game know for a fact because at one point in the past, a mortal wizard killed Mystra and made that extinction event happen. Mystra reformed, as gods do, and eventually things got back to more or less normal, but that doesn't do much for the shitload of people and creatures that died during the period of time where magic was dead.

And that's what ends up souring Gale and Mystra's relationship. Gale, being mortal, felt he had to prove he was Mystra's equal, and so set out to find a source of magical power not unlike that used by the wizard in the past who killed Mystra. And when Mystra saw Gale doing that, she freaked the fuck out because she thought she was going to get killed again - because the wizard who slew her in the past ALSO felt he needed to prove he was equal to a goddess.

Neither character takes the breakup well. Gale feels like fucking shit because he fumbled a literal goddess, and also got a piece of super destructive magic lodged in his chest in the process that's slowly killing him. And Mystra is worried that the super powerful piece of magic lodged in Gale's chest could kill her, and also about the cult using a very similar piece of magic (it's a big plot point for the game I won't go into it this is already too long), and so, in an act of cruel godly pragmatism, she sends D&D Gandalf to tell Gale to use his the magic murder ball in his chest to kill the cult, even though it'll destroy him in the process. "Hi sweetie, please kill yourself on my behalf, k thanx!" basically.

It's... it's a mess.

Gale's Want is to prove he is Mystra's equal by mastering the ancient magic he's found, and either win her back or, better yet, become a god himself and dethrone her. As I said, he's got a bit of a mad scientist in him.

Gale's Need is to move on from this relationship, talk things out with his ex, give her her dvds the ancient magic artifacts back, and move on with his life.

I like Gale. He's got funny lines, he loves his cat, he's a goofy nerd, and while his love life is a mess, his heart is mostly in the right place. He needs some nudges to do the right thing, but he's a good guy deep down, and I always love it when fiction shows a relationship that falls apart not because one person in it was "bad," but because the two people were just not compatible. Yeah, Gale fucked up, but you can understand why he fucked up, and he can understand it too if you help him own up to his mistakes and move forward. Also, he loves his cat, he can't be all bad.

Companion 6: Karlach, the Most Beautiful Woman I've Ever Seen

Karlach is my favorite companion in this game, which is why I saved her for (sort of) last. And, yes, sure, part of it is because of my aforementioned preferences with women...

she's so goddamn pretty

But it's also because of how she plays with those core themes I've mentioned. Karlach was sold into slavery as a teenager, where her devil master ripped out her heart and replaced it with an engine to turn her into a super-strong gladiator. She's been living in literal Hell for years, fighting every day to survive, and like Astarion she actually views being kidnapped by Mindflayers as a godsend since it freed her from her enslavement.

Unlike Astarion, Karlach doesn't have a long life to look forward to. That engine in her chest can't work properly outside of Hell, and it will eventually break, overheat, and melt her from the inside out. Karlach is the only companion who knows she's going to die soon whether or not the tadpole is taken out - no matter how this adventure ends, she will die.

At least, that's what she's told herself. Karlach's Want is to never return to Literal Hell, no matter what, because she's afraid if she does she will be taken as a slave again, and that there is no hope for a good life if she touches foot on that ground again. Following this want means she WILL die - either by the engine, by her enemies in the mortal plane, or by turning into a mind flayer (because while mind flayers can retain their hosts' memories, they are NOT the same being as their host).

And Karlach is convinced she's ok with this! No, really, she's fine! This is fine! She's got a few days left to live, and she's going to enjoy them! She is unfailingly kind and compassionate, always willing to help others, always cheery and taking the best view of her friends and people in need, a ray of fucking sunshine.

And beneath it all she's terrified and sad. When you get towards the end of the game, and Karlach feels how close the Inevitable End is, she reaches a breaking point where that happy facade snaps and it's... it's gut wrenching, man. It breaks your fucking heart, because as much as she's determined not to risk setting foot in Literal Hell ever again, she really doesn't want to die.

...

Karlach's Need is to go back to Literal Hell long enough to get that engine replaced. Her Need is to find hope, TRUE hope, not just a facade of optimism - a true belief that she can face the worst and come out of it ok, that she can survive, that she is not alone in facing the darkest shit this world can throw at her. Her Need is to find the strength to believe that she can live, even if it's hard, even if it's Hell to get there.

And Karlach is worth it. She is worth Hell.

Companions 7 - 10 Speedrun

I don't have as much to say about the four other companions you can get in the game, mainly because I already love these six so much that trying to take time to get to know four other weirdos who I don't get to recruit until halfway through the game just... like, there's a party limit of four characters and one is me, I can only take three of you along at a time, I'm prioritizing the one's who've been with me since all the goblin shit in Act 1, feel me? The rest of you seem real neat but I've got my nakama all set, we're good.

Halsin is the one I know the most of these four because he helped me at the tail end of the goblin stuff and he seems fine. He's a big nice hippie who turns into a bear and is into polygamy and carving wooden ducks. A lot of people thirst for him, but he's not my type - like I get the appeal but this is a case of Not My Favorite Pennywise Hentai But OK as far as I'm concerned. I like his subplot about restoring balance to the cursed forest, though. Felt like teaming up with Smokey the Bear.

Minthara is the companion that used to require you to kill a shitload of innocent people to recruit, but people found weird work-arounds that involved turning her into a sheep and so the developers sighed and released a patch where you could recruit her without mass murder using only slightly cheesey means. She is Genuinely Evil, but in a complicated way that's still fun from a character perspective. She's also a great comically serious character - i.e. someone who's so serious all the time that they end up being incredibly funny on accident just by their muted reactions to all the weirdness around them. From the clip compilations I've watched on youtube, her romance is basically a Lady Macbeth situation, and that's pretty hot. If it weren't for Karlach, I'd... romance Astarion, but if it weren't for Astarion, I'd... romance Shadowheart, but if it weren't for Shadowheart, I'd... romance Lae'zel, but if it weren't for Lae'zel, I might romance Minthara. Or Wyll. One of the two.

Jaheira is a character from one of the previous Baldur's Gate games, neither of which I've played, so I had no preconceptions or attachments to her going in this game. She basically becomes your surrogate mom as the game goes along, and I mean that as a compliment. She's pretty great and fills a nice emotional niche - I didn't use her that much because, again, I've already got six close friends to rotate out, I'm not going to ditch them for long periods of time to hang out with my MOM, but it was nice having her along for the ride a few times.

Minsc is the OTHER returning character from the previous games, and from what I can tell he's basicall Kronk from The Emperor's New Groove but with a funny accent. I like him, he's fun comic relief, and he throws a hamster at people while telling it to eat their eyes. I don't have a lot to say on Minsc, I just think he's neat.

At some point I might do a followup to this gushing about NPCs from the game, because goddamn the supporting cast is great too. Omeluum, Us, the Emperor, fucking Dame Aylin. Dame Aylin is so goddamn fucking cool, I want to read novels about her adventures, she rocks so hard. All glory to the Nightsong!