#At some point I suppose i should look for a new dnd group too :

[speremint]

Shit happened, but anyway, it sucks cause my DND char of like... Many years now, isn't gonna get any more use. It's a shame because I did spend a lot of time working on him and his story and what not, and I do love Shenyu a lot, my sad lil dilf tiefling

[remuslupingf]

Dustin, whose your friend? II

E.M

Eddie Munson x shy!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: fluff, shy reader, anxious reader, nice eddie, dnd

Part I

You hear Eddie before you see him. You just have time to give yourself a once over in the mirror before you open your door, and hop down the steps to your house. Eddies sat there in his van, waiting for you. When he sees you, he grins and jumps out. He runs to the passenger side to open the door for you.

“M’lady,” he says, while bowing you into the van. You smile and pat his head while climbing up into your seat.

Eddie had been teaching you how to play dnd and tonight was the first time you would partake in a real campaign. With real players. With people you know. You were beyond nervous.

“It's gonna be fine baby! They were all first timers once! And we never judged them or made fun of them. We're gonna have so much fun.” He says while smiling at you.

“Okay, if you say so.” You answer quietly. He takes your hand and kisses it, making you smile. He knew you could get in your head about things. That was fine, as long as he could bring you back out to him. Only he knew how to talk sense into you.

You arrived at the school, and he hopped out fast so he could get your door for you. He loved doing that. Being able to do things boyfriends do for their girlfriends. He was the kind of guy who took pride in being a real gentleman. Someone who you could brag about to your girlfriends. 

“Hey guys!’ You hear behind you. Of course Dustin is here early to set up. 

“Hey Dusty! Are you excited? The start of a new campaign should be pretty epic.” You gush to him, hoping that you don't sound like an idiot.

“I know! The guys and I are so excited you're gonna play with us. It's gonna be legendary.” Dustin smiles at you, while helping Eddie unload some of the equipment he would need for the campaign. Apparently Eddie has spent some money on some new props. 

You help them bring in the boxes to the drama room. What the hell was in here? They were so heavy. You set down your box as soon as Eddie had unlocked the door. You were starting to get more nervous than excited. What surprise did Eddie have in store? No one knew.

“HOLY SHIT” you hear Dustin yell. You whip around, to see him with an open box in front of him. Before you could think, Eddie was behind him, holding his hand to Dustin's mouth.

“Dammit henderson. You weren't supposed to open that. Do not tell anyone. Alright?” Eddie says, while slowly dropping his head.

Dustin slowly nods, mouth agape. “I won't tell, but how they hell did you pay for those?” he asks.

“Just renting them for the campaign, they gave me a deal too, they know Wayne.” Eddie says smugly.

You take a step closer, trying to sneak a peek at what is in the box. Before you get any closer, Eddie has you by the shoulders, spinning you around. “Let's go look over here angel, I’ll let you sit on my throne.”

—---

Now that Dustin knew about the secret, he got to help set up the surprise and you had to wait in the hallway. Before you knew it, the other members started to show up.

“Hey! We didn't know you were staring tonight.” Garett said when he and Jeff walked up to the drama room.

Before you could reply, Jeff pointed to the door, “Is Eddie not here yet? I have a spare key so we can get in.” He says, starting to take his backpack off so he can grab the key.

“No! Eddie and Dustin are setting up a surprise so we have to wait for them to let us in.” You tell them. They lean on the wall with you, making small talk. Some more members showed up, while you and Garett explained why the door was closed.

The collective group were all curious and excited for what was to come. Some had guesses, none very realistic. You explained whatever it was, had fit into 5 cardboard boxes. Before the group could start theorizing, the door creaked open. The lights were off. That wasn't normal was it? You look at Garett and he looks just as confused as you feel.

He pushes the door the rest of the way open. There's a break in the dark light. A deep red is emanating from Eddie's throne. Suddenly the floor fills up with smoke, where the hell had Eddie gotten a smoke machine? But that wasn't it. Once everyone was through the door, a menacing sound came from unseen speakers. Holy shit. Is this what hellfire was always like? 

As the music rose, the lights got brighter, and Eddie stepped out from behind his throne. He was grinning like a maniac. Once he sat, everyone raced to their designated seats so they could start. You found an empty chair next to Dustin. You smiled at him and sat down, pulling out your folder that Eddie helped you work on. You were so excited to see what was going to happen. It was comforting that you had the help of your party.

Throughout the campaign, the music flows with the energy of the campaign. How had Eddie orchestrated this so perfectly? He was an amazing Dungeon Master. There came a point where your character was the only one who could save the party. This was up to you to save them. You stood at the end of the table, facing Eddie. You were shaking the D20 in your hands, praying that you got enough to take down the thessalhydra that had attacked your group. 

You looked around the table, at your friends who were counting on you. You looked at Eddie, who was staring at your hands. Usually he would stare down the saviour of the campaign, but he wanted you to do well. He needed you to. Because if you didn't, would you still want to go to hellfire permanently? 

You let go of the die, crossing your fingers. You couldn't look. What if it wasn't enough to save the party? Would the campaign be over? It would be all your fault. They'd never invite you back-

“FUCK YEAH” Garrett screams while everyone cheers and celebrates. You looked down. You had just taken down the monster, saving the party, and ending the progress of the campaign for the night. 

You stood there shocked, with your mouth open. You turn to look at Dustin, who is mirroring your expression. You both stare at each other. “FUCK YEAH” you both yell while putting your arms in the air. You did it!! Everyones cheering for you. The party has a group hug, with you in the middle. You get a glimpse of Eddie, who is smiling from ear to ear. 

After all the commotion had died down, the group rushed to Eddie, asking him if they could rent the lights, smoke machine, and speakers again for next week. Eddie pretends to think about it, before yelling out “Of course we can, are you kidding me? That's the best session we've ever had.”

The magic of the night had affected them all. They had all been playing for years, but this felt like dnd reinvented. It was like they all fell in love with it for the first time again. It was magic. And Eddie had created that. They worshiped him for it. 

Before you knew what you were doing, your feet carried you to Eddie's throne. You threw your arms over him and kissed him. Eddie was shocked. Was he that good that you kissed him in front of EVERYONE? He didn't think much more than that because his brain literally stopped working.

You broke apart, instantly getting shy. What did you just do? It was only your second date! What if he thought you were easy? Before you could think much more, Eddie pulled you in for another kiss. Pulling you out of your head and back to him. 

[grapesplease]

bleed me out and hang me to dry

astarion x male! drow! bard! tav

an. sequel to i love you (i'm sorry) its the 3+1 trope! :D full of oc info and astarion fluff! i love these bastards to death! also egregious use of random star shit i learned, probably not dnd lore compliant but wtv

cw. mentions of past torture and abuse

“Why are you giving me that look?”

“You’re really going to help me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” The elf gives Altair a confused look, wondering what was going on in his head, “You, the bleeding heart that you are, promised everyone here help with their problems, and yet you think I wouldn’t help you fight some drow?”

“No? You have no obligation to help me, you don’t get anything out of it.” Altair has an incredulous look on his face, “You- What do you get out of helping me?"

wc. 7.4k

-

1.

Altair let out sharp hiss of pain as Astarion applies a salve to his knee. His pant leg is rolled high, and he knows that he has to roll it higher for Astarion to properly help him.

The elf is kneeled down in front of him; they had just been through a fight with a nasty group of goblins, and Shadowheart was fresh out of magic to heal him. So now his partner (whatever their relationship was) was treating him the old fashioned way, with good ole’ bandages and salve.

He wants to keep his old scar hidden, and against his better judgment, he considers doing it. Thinking that fighting the next few days in pain would be fine.

“Not like it's something I haven't done before..”

“Would you be a dear and roll up your pants a bit more?” The elf asks, glancing up at him through his lashes. “I need to just finish treating you, I promise that no kind of carnal lust is on my mind right now.”

He hesitates, but reluctantly listens to him. There’s a brand on his thigh, given to him by his dear friend Ariadne. A little reminder of how he could never truly escape her, and that he’d never forget who he belonged to.

He could never forget the pain of searing hot metal.

It was a constellation, Ariadne told him that it had the star he was named after in it. She had told him it was a present for being the new quote on quote, “rising star” in the ring. (A bit on the nose, if you ask him.)

He hated how she had said it back then, now that he was seeing everything in retrospect. “Rising star,” his ass! He was just trying to fucking survive! How could she say that like it was an accomplishment, like he should be proud of killing people? When he was barely breathing after every fight?

She was the one who was bringing him back from near death every time, broken bones healing back together and cuts closing in an instant weren't new to him. Ariadne was the one who kept him in the fight, whether he liked it or not.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts by Astarion, who’d started lightly tracing over the scar. Altair flinches, his body stiffening. His gaze meets Astarion’s, and his breath hitches. It wasn’t like he'd never seen it, he just never disclosed who exactly gave him that scar, or what it meant to him.

“I never told you how I got that brand, did I?”

Astarion sighs, bandaging up his leg and setting the salve aside, “No, you never did.” He traces over the exposed skin, thin lines connected with pinprick dots. It was intricate, clear that much thought went into it. “Were you tortured by an astrologer? You have one too many space themed scars, love.”

It wasn't a lie, he had a few tattoos of various constellations, along with a few more star-shaped scars on his back. His jewelry box of star themed earrings and necklaces didn't help much, either.

He chuckles in response, “She really loved the history of my name, apparently.” His eyes look up to the night sky, and he motions for Astarion to sit next to him.

“There it is,” He points to a collection of stars, “the Aquila constellation. It's shaped kind of like an arrow, and the one at the top, the brightest one, is the star I’m named after.”

“How poetic.” Astarion comments, he supposes that it's fitting, as Altair had been a consistent beacon of hope for him. “What does it symbolize?”

“The constellation represents strength,” Altair replies, “I assume my father wanted me to be strong, knowing the hell he left me to live in.”

He shudders, remembering the things he had to do to survive in the Underdark. It was times like these where he cursed his elven memory, wishing he couldn't remember every fight he's ever had, every scar he’d ever gotten.

He wishes he didn't have to remember the desperate looks of his opponents. He knows that the same desperation was mirrored in his eyes.

His guilt doesn’t make him feel any better, but he hopes it serves as some kind of penance. After all, they were the same as him, people who were victims of sick games that drow nobility used to entertain themselves.

“He left me in the Underdark, so that he could live up on the surface with my mother.” Altair says, “They were happy, according to him, but my mother was killed by monsters a few years after they left me.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you.” Astarion replies, moving to hold Altair’s hand, his fingers running over the back of it. “They traded your freedom for theirs, that's awfully unfair.”

“An eye for an eye, I suppose."

Altair thinks back to when he first got to Baldur’s Gate after escaping the Underdark. He met his dad there, peacefully idling away at a book. Oh, how angry he was to find out that the man that had abandoned him was just living his life, acting like there was nothing wrong in the world.

He remembers that one of the first things he did was slap him, and cuss him out. Gods, he was almost dragged away to jail before his father stopped the soldiers. His father let out endless apologies, but all he thought at the time was that his father looked pathetic.

The next thing he did was ask him questions. “Why did you leave me?” “Why didn't you try to save me?” “What made you think this was fair to me?” “Why did you put me through that?” “Do you regret it?”

“Did you ever miss me?”

They’ve talked since then, argued, apologized, the whole nine yards. He's reconciled with his father, but he doesn't think he can ever forgive him for leaving him in the Underdark. Nothing can ever convince him that his father did the right thing, or that it was the only thing his father could’ve done.

“A woman named Ariadne gave that scar to me,” He admits, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck, “She was the first person I ever befriended down there, she's the one I thought would help me escape. Unfortunately, she sold me out for the mere chance of gaining power.”

“Was she the one who made you become a gladiator?”

“No, but she did sponsor many of my fights, and a lot of my cosmetics.” He motions to the myriad of star-related tattoos on his body. “These tattoos were one of them, along with..” He tucks his hair behind his right ear, revealing how half is cut off, “This lovely parting gift.”

“Couldn't aim for the neck, could she?”

“She fancied herself a killer, but she was pathetically bad with a knife!” He barks out a laugh, “Clearly things have changed since then, because she’s confident enough to try and kill me again.”

“I don't think we should worry too much, if half an ear is all the damage she can do to you.” Astarion chuckles, “Karlach would have her set ablaze before she even got to your tent!”

“I’m sure you’d take a chunk out of her neck before she could take one out of mine.”

“Oh! Such high praise from someone as strong as yourself!” The two are laughing with each other, hands intertwined. Altair wants to savor moments like these, wanting to remember what it feels like to be normal, to care for someone like this.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to ask-” He turns to Astarion, catching his breath, “When we met, you recognized me, where did you first find me?”

“Well, at some shit tavern, no offense to your musical skills, mind you-” He sighs, recalling the moment. “You piqued my interest, being a drow playing the violin and singing. Here you were, a sparkly, singing drow! I even tried propositioning you!”

“Oh, that can’t have gone well.”

(He knows it didn't.)

“You rejected me, very harshly!” Astarion dramatically leans onto Altair’s shoulder, a hand over his forehead. “My ego! Horribly wounded by a sparkly bard!”

“What was it that I said exactly?”

“You said I looked sickly! Like I could barely walk up the stairs! Never mind getting in bed with you! I thought I hid my whole “being dead” thing well- until you came along!”

“Oh yes, it was something along the lines of, ‘Perhaps you should visit a hospital bed before you visit mine.’” Altair snickers, remembering the mortified look that Astarion had given him. “And you left in a huff after calling me a few choice words. In my defense, I was incredibly wasted."

“I mean, I got to bed you eventually.” The elf snarks, “So I guess everything worked out in the end.”

“I guess it did.”

2.

“..aand that's how I bravely defended myself from an assassin!” Altair’s piss drunk, spouting about absolute nonsense, “In fact, that's how I got thiis rapier!” He waves his sword around, laughing.

Astarion rolls his eyes, sipping from his own bottle of wine. He knew Altair had a drinking problem, he just didn't think it was this bad. However, it was certainly fun to see him yelling and screaming. It was a nice change of pace from his usually more put together and cheery persona.

“Wait- hand me my violin!” He slurred out, his arm was wrapped around Alfira’s shoulders. “Alfira, we should play togeth’r, a duet! A duet! You said you wanted to be bard in Baldur’s Gate, riight? I know a great tavern tha’ would be perfect for youu~”

“Now, I think it's high time you let go of your bottle.” Astarion chides, taking Altair’s wine away from him. The drow responds with a groan, and looks up at Astarion with pleading eyes. “Don't look at me like that, darling, you need to be cut off at some point. I don't want you whining to Shadowheart about a hangover.”

“Oh come onn, I know how much I can drink.”

“Oh, you're such a big baby.” He politely smiles to the group of tieflings that had gathered around Altair, and then pries him off of Alfira, dragging him towards his tent. “Apologies for my dear partner, I’ll be taking him off your hands now.”

Astarion sits him down, going off to find a bottle of water for him. Altair watches him attentively, prompting Astarion to turn, raising an eyebrow.

“What? See something you like?”

“You caree about me~” He giggles, thinking it’s the funniest thing in the world. How silly! To think that someone like Astarion would care for him! To think that anyone would care for a mess like him. “Youu care! Hahaha!”

“Only because I know you won't remember it in the morning.”

“I will!” He retorts, flailing his arms about, “I will! I swear!”

“I doubt it, love.” Astarion pushes the rim of the water bottle to Altair’s mouth. “Drink.”

“What are you, my-” The rest of his sentence is cut off as Astarion tilts the bottle, forcing water down his throat. He sputters, pushing it away from his mouth. “ghk- Gods, alright! I’ll drink!”

“Good boy.” Astarion gives him a pat on the head, before settling down next to him. “After you finish drinking that, go to sleep.”

“Aww, but I wanna talk with youu.”

“We can talk when you remember how to speak without slurring your words.”

“Noo, I wanna talk now!” He whines, leaning into Astarion’s shoulder. “I wanna tell you more about myself, s’only fair after you told me about Cazador..”

“Oh, just go to sleep, you idiot.”

“I will if you let me talk to you!”

Astarion groans, but relents. “Fine, if it gets you to rest.”

“Yaaay!”

Altair thinks for a moment about what to tell Astarion, he did want to share something, after how much Astarion had shared with him. Maybe not about his horrible time as a slave, something more lighthearted- but his life was so horribly depressing. What could he even talk about?

His eyes glance around his tent, before landing on his violin.

Wait- He’s a bard!

“Astarion!” He exclaims, grabbing the elf’s hands. There are stars in his eyes, and Astarion feels like he's in for a long night, and not the kind he likes. “Did I ever tell you about how I became a bard!”

“No?”

“I-” He pauses, looking confused for a moment. “Wait, giive me a second..”

Astarion grins, amused at his antics. As Altair is thinking, he shifts, letting Altair rest his head on his chest. His fingers go to thread through his hair, gently running through the strands.

“Don't tell me you don't remember, love.” He softly laughs, “Did the wine erase your memory too?”

“No! I just need a moment..” He yawns, sinking Astarion’s touch. He always loved when Astarion would comb through his hair like this, he felt like could just drift off. “Just give me a second..”

-

What in the hells did he say last night?

Altair blearily wakes up, wiping away the sleep from his eyes, finding that his body was sprawled over Astarion’s. His hair is undone from its usual braid, and is instead tangled in Astarion’s hands.

“What..?” He groans as he pushes himself off of Astarion, carefully untangling his hair from his fingers. “Gods, my arms are sore..”

His eyes flit back over to Astarion, who's still sound asleep. He racks his brain for memories of last night, he got drunk, yelled a little, sang, told some shit story about his time in the Underdark.

Oh.

He told him everything. Or- most of it anyway, just the parts about how he was forced to fight other slaves while starving and only found solace in creating and telling stories. A perfect conversation topic, the best way to reveal your fucked up past! Dammit, did he show him his journal too?

A rustle from behind him makes him snap his head back around, tensing up. He doesn't know if he can talk about it now that he's sober.

“Ngh, good morning, Altair.” The vampire sits up, yawning. “Glad to see you sober again.”

“Morning to you too, Astarion.” Altair mumbles, running a gentle hand over Astarion’s head. “I.. how much did I tell you last night?”

“Just bits and pieces, most of it was unintelligible to me.”

“Sorry about last night.”

“What for?”

What does he mean “What for?” for just dumping his trauma all over him, especially when Astarion was trying to get him to bed. Gods, he's not a child, he should be able to take care of himself!

“For making you listen to me,” Altair tries to remember what exactly he revealed, was it the torture? The brutal fights? He had to know how much Astarion knew about her. “I told you about when I was a gladiator, right? and that I was..”

A killer hangover has him hissing in pain, holding his head. His memories are still foggy, and his head can't take the strain of trying to remember. It’d take a good couple hours before his mind was clear enough for him to try.

“You told me that you wanted to be a poet.” Astarion says, putting a hand on Altair’s shoulder. “Don't hurt yourself trying to remember everything, I can just tell you.”

“Alright then, what else did I spill?”

“You waxed poetically for a while about how you took solace in art, about how you shadow wrote some songs and stories for a while. You attempted to show me your journal.”

He pointedly looks at the open journal on the ground, some of its pages scattered on the floor.

“Don't worry, I didn't get to read much of it. You ended up crying as soon as you opened it, and I had to calm you down.”

He pauses, hesitantly continuing. “You.. you cried about how you were living in the Underdark, about being forced to become a gladiator.”

“Oh.” Altair shakily sighs, running a hand through his hair, “What did I tell you exactly..?”

“Mostly about the living conditions,” He replies, “You were crying too much for me to understand, so I ended up just coaxing you to sleep.”

“Well, thank you for taking care of me, sorry for being such a child.”

“You don't have to be sorry, love.” Astarion yawns, getting up from Altair’s bedroll, “You listened to me whine about Cazador, it was only fair I do the same.”

“Still, thank you..” Altair gets up as well, following Astarion out to greet the morning. “..for listening to me, when you didn’t have to.”

3.

They’d been in the Shadowlands for a while now, Shadowheart was still talking about Shar and her protection, and Gale was geeking out about how the curse had affected the land around them. The usual day for their party.

He’d just talked to Raphael, shook hands and made a verbal contract, the whole nine yards. Astarion said he was ready to go and find whatever monster they had to kill, ready to learn more about his infernal scars and about how to stop Cazador. All he was waiting on was Altair’s command.

Altair, on the other hand, was more concerned with how Astarion seemed to be slower. They hadn’t lost any fights yet, but none of his attacks had his usual power behind them. He wasn't fit to be in any fight right now, and Altair knew it.

He pieced together why quickly, as he realized that there weren't many animals here for him to eat, the only ones they’d seen had been taken by the shadow curse. He hadn't offered to let him feed recently either.

Astarion was starving.

“Astarion,” Altair stands in front of his tent, arms crossed, “You haven't fed in a while, have you?”

“Well, there aren't exactly any animals here, and I’d hate to take my chances with the rest of the party.” He sends him a flirtatious look, licking his lips, “Unless you're offering that pretty neck of yours~”

His mouth is watering at the mere mention of feeding from Altair- and he does a poor job of hiding it.

“Astarion, I’m being serious, are you alright? I don't want you starving at tomorrow’s fight.”

“I-” Astarion was starving, but he was planning on sinking his teeth into a rat or something. He'd seen a few in the Gauntlet of Shar, Altair didn't have to do this for him. “Well, if you insist..”

Altair nods, the two heading into Astarion’s tent. He lays down on Astarion’s bedroll, letting the elf unlace part of his top. His dark skin is exposed to the frigid air, and he shivers. Astarion’s hands leave feather light touches on his neck as he brushes away Altair’s hair.

Gods, Astarion was already salivating at the sight of his neck.

Altair lets out a gasp, fangs sinking into his neck. Astarion’s tongue eagerly laps up the blood that spills out, groaning. A week without a proper meal leaves him greedy, and Altair can feel himself getting lightheaded.

He gently pats Astarion’s shoulder, “That's enough. Any more and I’m going to pass out.” Astarion whines, but unhinges himself from Altair’s neck. The drow pushes himself up, padding around for his violin so that he could cast Lesser Restoration on himself. “Astarion, I’m going to grab my violin, I left it in my tent.”

“I’ll grab it for you, just give me a moment to fix your shirt.” He motions for Altair to lean forward a bit, and he starts to lace his shirt back up. “You're in such a hurry, darling. Don't go running off topless in front of the party, I’d get jealous.”

“I don't think you should be the authority on decency, Star.” His breath hitches as Astarion’s cold fingers brush against his collarbone. “I think you’ve been seen in more scandalous positions than I have.”

“Oh, are you implying something, love?” Astarion leans in close to Altair, whispering scandalously as he holds the drow’s gaze, “Do you want to be seen when we have sex?”

He pulls the thread of Altair’s shirt tight, sending a shudder through his body.

“No.” Altair breathily replies, “I.. I like being a sight for your eyes only, Astarion..”

“A pity, I’d love to share this..” He drags a finger up Altair’s neck, “..beautiful body with everyone. But you being all mine doesn't sound too bad either.”

He lightly taps Altair’s nose, cheekily smiling at him.

“Astarion..”

“I’ll go ahead and grab your violin, darling.” He pecks Altair on the forehead. “Try and entertain yourself while I’m gone, why don’t you?”

He smiles to himself as he makes his way to Altair’s tent, the face that he’d made when he left was priceless! His cheeks were positively flushed, all the way up to his ears, he was sure that he looked the same though, his pale skin being warmed by the drow’s blood.

Astarion rummages around, spotting the violin behind his pack, as he moves to grab it, he knocks a journal off of Altair’s desk. He mumbles out a few curses, before leaning down to pick it up. It’s open to a page, written in Elvish.

“...ordered another punishment for the Comet, and he came crying to me! He’s a fool, coming to me for help.”

What?

He knows that Altair would hate him if he read it without his permission, especially if it was full of documentation of his torture. But it irks him a little bit, not knowing the extent of Altair abuse.

All he knew was that he was a slave in the Underdark, and that the house he was in forced him to fight in gladiator matches. He’d only made passing mentions of his living conditions, things like being starved or in constant pain, which he could unfortunately relate to.

Sometimes there was mention of a mysterious woman- Ariadne. She came up the most when they were exploring the Underdark, it confused him, as Altair would go from near panic attacks to describing fond memories when talking about her.

Astarion shuts the journal, his touch lingering a bit on the swirling gold embroidery.

Should he talk to Altair about it?

They were getting close to finding a cure for the tadpole, and Altair seemed set on heading to Baldur’s Gate after investigating Moonrise Towers. He didn’t know how much longer Altair was going to stay with him, they certainly had something going on, but he didn’t know if it was enough for Altair to stay with him.

He wanted Altair to stay with him, even after their journey together.

He just didn’t know how to ask him to stay.

He sighs, figuring that Altair has waited long enough for his violin. He heads back to his tent, trying to sort out his thoughts.

“Found your violin.” He sits down next to Altair, who’s reading one of his books, “Oh, I quite like that story.”

“Really? Wouldn’t peg you as the type to enjoy horror.”

“Well, it’s kind of like a comedy after everything we’ve been through. Helps me laugh at it all.” Astarion hands him his violin, “Does it help you any?”

“A bit, but I’ve been mostly laughing at the bad writing. Let me tell you that gladiator fights are nothing like this!” Altair huffs dramatically, “So much talk about honor, and how they describe the equipment? Incredibly inaccurate.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask, but how did you escape the Underdark? You don’t have to answer if it’s a sore subject, but you’ve never gone into much detail about it.”

He sighs, recalling the first time that Astarion saw him break down in the Underdark. He was a fool then, trying to pretend like the place didn’t haunt him. Altair holds his violin, gripping his bow a bit too tightly. He should tell Astarion, they were getting close to Baldur’s Gate, and he couldn’t endanger him like that.

“There’s a journal in my tent, it belongs to Ariadne, the person who promised to help me escape. I think I already told you that she betrayed me though. She was cruel, and I wish I could say that I hate her with all of my being, but that’d be a lie.”

He nervously plays with the pegs of his violin, “She was still the first to treat me like I existed, you know? She gave me food, money, and some kind of social interaction. I know that what she did was wrong, and that she was never my friend, but a part of me misses her.”

Astarion looks at him sympathetically, understanding how desperate you get for any kind of interaction when you’re isolated. That time he spent stuck in a coffin comes to mind, being trapped in the dark with only his thoughts, nothing but silence for days on end.

He knows that Altair spent most of his life like that, trapped in a stone cell, only let out to be fed or to fight. Altair was able to create stories, and pretend like all his fights were epic tales, but even he admits that much of his time was spent staring up at a cold, stone ceiling. That, and being beaten for not performing well enough in fights, or whatever fault they found with him.

“I finished reading most of her entries, I assume she lost it before getting to Baldur’s Gate though.” Altair says, “She was in the middle of chasing me out of a tavern before I was kidnapped and put on that mindflayer ship. According to her journal, she’d found out where I worked. I fully expect that she found my house soon after I was kidnapped”

He turns to Astarion with a determined look, “I have to go back, I can’t keep running from her. Not to mention, my father is still there, and I don’t know how long it’ll take before she resorts to using him against me. I need to kill her, to finally be free.”

“And here I thought I would be the only one meeting my old master in Baldur’s Gate,” Astarion jokes, “Good to know we’re both on a mission to get revenge.”

“It’s not revenge- I wouldn’t call it that.”

“Killing the person that ruined your life? I’d say that’s the textbook definition of revenge, darling.”

“It’s not- well, it’s more about me being free.” He explains, looking away from Astarion. He knew that Astarion wouldn’t understand how he felt about Ariadne, it’d be so easy to hate her if all she did was torture him, but she didn’t.

“She- She was still nice to me, you know. She was the very reason I learned that there was more to the world than my cell, and that I still even had a father. Ariadne was my first friend, she was a lot of my firsts, even though she ended up wanting to kill me.”

“That journal I found details some things from my enslavement, and it hurts to read sometimes. It only proves how bad of a person she is, that she hated me from the start.” Tears start to fall from his eyes as he relays his emotions to him.

“It’s tainted all the memories I had with her, every single one that I’d go back to when I trance, wanting to remember the better moments of my life. She hated me the whole time. It was funny to her, how little I knew, how even though I was the better fighter, she was still superior to me.”

“Killing her is going to be my way of getting closure, and reclaiming my life.”

Altair is still crying, crying and bloodless, he remembers. His hands shakily move his violin under his chin, placing the bow on the strings.

“Sorry- The blood loss is starting to get to me- I just have to heal myself”

“I don’t think you’re in playing condition, dear.” Astarion gently lowers Altair’s hands, taking his violin and setting it down behind him. “I think you’re in need of a good night’s rest, Shadowheart can take care of it in the morning.”

Altair nods, but looks at Astarion warily.

Why wasn’t he saying anything? No disgust at not hating his torturer? He would understand if Astarion was confused, angry, even. Was he really just going to help him fight some unknown danger?

If there was one thing he learned while in the Underdark- from her, it was that love meant nothing. He loved people, cared for them, only to be hurt. It was always finite, his relationships never lasted, despite the effort he put in, why would this one be different?

He’d help Astarion get rid of the tadpole in their heads, and then help him kill Cazador.

After that, he’d be on his own.

Right?

“Why are you giving me that look?”

“You’re really going to help me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” The elf gives Altair a confused look, wondering what was going on in his head, “You, the bleeding heart that you are, promised everyone here help with their problems, and yet you think I wouldn’t help you fight some drow?”

“No? You have no obligation to help me, you don’t get anything out of it.” Altair has an incredulous look on his face, “You- What do you get out of helping me? My loyalty? Unless I’ve misread something, no one here has to help me- I don’t expect any of you to help me!”

Astarion is a little angry, was he stupid? What did he mean he didn’t expect help? Was he truly that blind to how much he cared for him, to how much everyone cared for him. Did he simply think that the people here wouldn’t fight for him the way he fought for them?

“We- I care about you as much as you care about me. You’ve done so much for the party- for me, and you just expect me to let you charge into a fight alone?”

“Yes? People don’t- they don’t just help for no reason, Astarion!” He stammers out, Ariadne had drilled that idea into his head. She only reinforced it when she betrayed him, and even more so through her journal entries.

“I don't expect help from anyone! I didn’t see why you would be different, even if you said you cared for me. I thought that you were only playing along with my antics, using ‘love’ to get a free night of sex, or someone willing to protect you!”

That comment hurt Astarion. Altair was right, he was the one who’d emotionally manipulated him into a relationship, being nice to gain something. But he’d changed, he started genuinely caring for him. He tried showing him that he cared.

The nights he spent comforting him, listening to him talk about his past? The silly banter they’d have while Altair was healing him? How he constantly- constantly threw himself into danger to protect him? Did that mean nothing to him? Did Altair only see that as repayment for his affection?

Altair still sits there, confused. He wasn’t wrong, he thinks. All his life has been a game of giving. He cares about people, gives them his trust, his words of love and soft kisses, keeps that person happy, until they abandon him.

They leave, and he pretends like all those emotions weren’t real, that nothing happened, he uses the feelings in a ballad or story, and tries to forget. Wash, rinse, repeat. He’s lived like that for 215 years, and he hasn’t had anyone try to break that cycle or tell him he was wrong. It was just life, after all.

“Did everything we do mean nothing to you? Was it all just you playing along to entertain me?”

“No! Gods, No. I care about you Astarion, I do!”

“Then why do you act like everything I’ve done for you means nothing?! Do you think I don’t care about you too, Altair?”

“I..” He holds his tongue, he truly didn’t think Astarion loved him. He didn't think anyone truly cared about him. He’d been alone this long, after all. Why would Astarion be any different than his past relationships?

He’d done the same for all of them, listening to their past, helping them through rough patches. Altair had done everything by the book, he revealed bits of himself to them, but always- always, they'd leave him.

No one wanted to stay after learning that he wasn't a charismatic bard, they didn't want to risk being killed because of his past. Sometimes they were disgusted with what he did as a gladiator. But he’d always understood, why would anyone want to try and bear the weight of his past with him?

His silence is all the answer that Astarion needs to hear, and the vampire frustratedly grabs his hands, moving closer to him.

“I’d follow you to the ends of Faerun, and help you fight whatever horrible monster from your past shows up.” He states firmly, holding Altair’s gaze. “I’d do this because I know you’d do the same for me, no matter how scared you are- I love you, Altair, even if you don’t believe it yourself.”

“I-” Altair looks back at him, fear behind his eyes, “I want to believe you, I do. But I can’t, I don’t know what to do if you just love me, what do I do in return?”

His mind is spinning, relationships never worked like that. It was always give and take and give and take-

He wasn’t worthy of a relationship, a real relationship, he had to compensate for all his flaws. He had to, or that person would leave him.

Just like how Ariadne did.

She would leave him alone in his cell for days on end, sometimes years, if he offended her enough.

Darkvision doesn’t help much when the walls are the same color, and his mind could only entertain itself for so long before it began to spiral. He was never enough, he had to always make up for it. It was the only way he wouldn’t end up alone, stuck in a stone cell.

“You don’t have to do anything.” Astarion softly smiles at him, “You just have to accept it. I’m loving you with no strings attached, dear.”

Was it really that simple?

“Is that really it? I just accept that you love me? Even though it’s..” Altair trails off, vaguely motioning to himself.

“What, like loving you is hard?” He pressed a kiss to the palm of Altair’s hand, cradling it against his cheek, his red eyes looking up at him through his lashes, “Loving you is easy, you just have to accept it."

“..oh.”

It was that simple.

4.

White-hot pain flares up from Astarion’s back, and he feels warm blood dripping down his arms.

It’s him.

A choked sob rings through the halls, as Cazador’s laugh rubs salt in his wound. Tears mix with blood as he white knuckles the carpet below him. Why was he back here? Where did everyone go?

“Did you really think you could escape?” Astarion’s head is forced up, clawed hands digging into his cheeks. “Foolish boy, you know I can find you anywhere. The audacity to even try and run!”

He roughly lets go of his face, moving to a table that he can only assume is lined with tools. Cazador hums as he traces his hands over every single one, and he starts to prattle on about how he’s going to use them on Astarion.

His mind races as he tries to rationalize everything, he's not here, he's at camp, in his tent. His breath hitches when he catches a glimpse of a familiar half-drow.

No.

Altair lays limply on the ground, chained to the wall. He turns to Astarion, and his stomach turns-

His eyes are red.

“Altair!”

“This is your fault.” Altair’s head lifts up, gaze boring through him. His voice is hoarse, and Astarion can see pointed fangs just past his lips as he opens his mouth “I should've never trusted you.”

-

Altair sits comfortably outside Astarion’s tent, hands idly plucking a tune on his violin. They were camped outside of Rivington, only a night away from getting into Baldur’s Gate.

“Let him go! Stop!” He turns to Astarion, who’s writhing in his bedroll, tears falling from his closed eyes. “Please..”

“Astarion!” Altair throws his violin to the ground, rushing to his side. Astarion’s having a dream, a kind that Altair is all too familiar with. “You're safe, wake up, come on..”

His voice is soft as he gently shakes Astarion’s shoulder. “Cazador isn't here, you're having a nightmare. Please wake up..”

As if listening to Altair’s pleas, Astarion’s eyes snap open, nails digging into his wrist. Frenzied, red eyes meet his, and he loosens his grip as he realizes what happened.

“Shit- I’m sorry.”

“It's fine. Are..” He wants to ask if he's alright, but he knows the answer. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Astarion stares at him in response, hand still holding onto the drow’s wrist. He was safe, Altair was safe, Cazador isn't here.

“I had a bad dream.” He laughs, ‘bad dream��� would be an understatement, “It was about Cazador. He had you, and you were- you were turned. Gods, I hate this, we're literally on our way to kill him, and he's still tormenting me!"

“They have a way of doing that to you.” Altair rests his hand atop Astarion’s. “Our torturers, I mean. We can never really forget, but we can kill them.”

“Ha, that we can.” Astarion thinks it’s unfair, that he has to live with the memories of torture, with scars that will never fade. All while Cazador gets to die, and never suffers the same way he did. “Funny how that works out, two ex-slaves going to Baldur’s Gate to kill their enslavers.”

“Sounds like great material for a story.” Altair hums, “Maybe I’ll write a little song about us, ‘Astarion and Altair: Free Elves’ has a nice ring to it.”

Astarion groans, laughing. “Gods, no. Don't tell me you're going to be singing that at taverns, Altair.”

“I would never!” He replies dramatically, gasping in mock surprise. “That'll be one of my personal songs, for my ears only!”

“Oh please, I should have some right to hear it, my name is in the title!” Astarion scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Besides, I’ve already seen your whole journal. I assume I’ve seen all of your ‘private’ songs.”

“You've only seen the most recent one. There’s more at my home.” He sighs wistfully, “I’m excited to finally sleep in my bed again, provided Ariadne left the place intact.”

“Personally, I’m excited to finally take consistent baths. I’m tired of smelling like shit all the time.”

They sit in a comfortable silence as their laughter dies down, Altair looks back up at Astarion. Concern still hangs in his mind, “Are you feeling better now?”

“I am.” Astarion sighs, wiping an exasperated hand down his face, “Cazador will know I’m back, and my brothers and sisters will probably be everywhere trying to look for us.”

The worst part about all of it was that he was still scared. Countless ‘what ifs’ run through his head. What if they failed, and he died? What would happen to Altair and the others? They’d gotten a place in his heart, even though he’d never care to admit it, he didn't even want Cazador touching them!

“After we kill Cazador, and the Absolute..” Altair’s voice snaps Astarion out of his thoughts, “We should settle down, you could move in with me, and maybe I could help you find a job.”

“Hm, that sounds dreadfully boring.”

“I think boring is what I need if we succeed in taking down a cult.” Altair laughs. “Besides, it wouldn’t be too bad. I’m confined to the dark as much as you are, I’m practically blind during the day. Stupid tadpole lets me enjoy the day without sun sensitivity setting my eyes ablaze.”

“I wasn't aware that you had light sensitivity.” He knew that drow had a hard time seeing in sunlight, but chalked up Altair’s resistance to him only being half-drow.

“Mm, it was pretty bad. Pretty sure the tadpole made me immune, like you. I’m going to miss not having my eyes fried to a crisp whenever I open my curtains.”

“Oh, but you’ll have me.” Astarion pulls Altair into his bedroll, and pins the drow beneath him. “And I still look just as ravishing in the dark, darling~”

“I-'' A blush graces Altair’s face, and he lightly hits Astarion’s chest, laughing. “Gods, what am I going to do with you?”

“Oh, I’d love to know what you’d do with me,” Astarion teases, earning a groan from Altair, “Or what I’d do to you.”

“Well, I’d love for you..” Altair puts a hand on Astarion’s chest, “..to shut up and let me sleep.”

“I’d love to sleep in your bed, darling. Or in any bed really, but having a handsome drow next to me would be a great incentive to sleep in yours.”

“Gods, no!” He stammers out, “My room is a mess, you’d have to wait outside with the rest of the party while I try and clean whatever is left of my house.”

“Where is your house?” Astarion questions, “I’m sure you aren't living in luxury, but I know you didn't live in the sewers or anything.”

“It's in the lower city, near the Blushing Mermaid. I play a lot of my gigs there, even though the patrons are drunk out of their minds and could care less. Started a lot of bar fights, too.”

“200 years and some things never change.” He sighs wistfully, recalling the years he spent there drinking his misery away, “Though, you were quite sloppy with your kills there.”

“What?” Altair’s eyes widen in shock as Astarion lays down next to him, an amused smile on his lips. “I never told you I was a contract killer!”

“You didn't.”

“What did you see me doing?” Sure, he took a few jobs killing people in Baldur’s Gate, and sure- he wasn't the sneakiest, but for Astarion to have caught him? He was worse at his job than he thought.

“I smelled some blood in an alleyway, and lo and behold-” He makes a dramatic gesture with his hands, motioning to Altair, “There you were, dragging away a body!”

“This is so embarrassing..”

“Oh, but don't worry, no one else saw!”

“But you did! And I was only a hitman for like 20 years!” Altair only became a contract killer because he didn't have many other skills when coming to Baldur’s Gate. Not his proudest moment, he admits, but he did a lot of odd jobs while trying to keep himself afloat, killing people just happened to be one of them.

“Makes me glad that you rejected me back then, otherwise I might've been killed by you.”

“I would never.” Altair scoffs, “Killing someone as pretty as you would be a crime!”

“Exactly!”

Astarion laughs along with Altair, but his mind wanders.

They could've killed each other 200 years ago. He knows that some people had caught onto his vampirism, and that Altair very well could've taken a job to kill him.

Conversely, he could've seduced Altair, and brought him to Cazador; he had tried and failed, after all. He thinks about that possibility, if Altair hadn't refused him so harshly, he would’ve been another victim. If Altair was a mercenary for longer, he could’ve killed him.

He grimaces at the thought.

“Well, hopefully we get a few years of peace after this whole cult fiasco. But knowing you and your bleeding heart, we’d be off on another adventure right after ending a cult!”

“I’d like to spend at least a few decades with you before we're whisked away, maybe get married or something.” Altair chuckles, but his head snaps over to Astarion when he realizes what he said. “I mean- only if you want to..?”

“Well, why not?” Astarion brushes a hand across the half-drow’s cheek, cracking a small smile at his flustered face. “There isn't anyone else I’d like to spend my eternal life with.”

“Oh.” He’s laughing, tears in the corners of his eyes, “Gods, this isn't how I wanted my proposal to go.”

He wipes at his tears, face flushed. “I was going to serenade you, and give you a ring and everything! It was going to be beautiful.”

“For a bard, you aren't very good at keeping your composure.”

“I swear I’m better on stage!”

Astarion laughs, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead, “Sure, darling.”

[therandomavenger]

To AI or not to AI

There’s been a lot of hubbub lately both online and in the media about the new AI tools that have been created. It started out with art, and then moved into the realm of writing, with the coming of various tools that are supposed to be able to generate original content. Reactions have been varied. Some people have embraced these tools as the wave of the future. Others have drawn a hard line in the sand and declared that no legitimate writer or artist would ever use them. As for me, I haven’t known what to think. I do not like the idea that I could be replaced by a collection of algorithms. But there are some writers I know and trust who’ve found useful applications for them that did not strike me as unethical uses of the technology.

I didn’t see myself using any of these tools in any capacity. But last week, someone in my writer’s group suggested that they could be used to generate comp titles for your books to assist in marketing. This seemed like something that could be useful, and also ethical, and since I have a new book coming out later this month, I tried it, using, specifically chatGPT.

I gave it a short summary of the book and asked for comp titles. I did this three different times, providing more details each time, and clarifying what I was asking for. Each time, it generated a list of ten titles, complete with one paragraph plot summaries. I was pleased. Here were some comp titles I could use in my marketing. Then I looked more closely at the plot summaries. They were eerily close to my book, so much so that I was a little afraid I was going to be accused of plagiarism. They also all kind of sounded the same, with minor rephrasing. I chalked that up to the format the algorithm was using.

So, I decided to check some of these books out and see how they were being marketed, what their covers looked like, that kind of thing.

None of the books actually existed. ChatGPT completely made them up. The plot summaries were all rephrasings of the prompt. Of the authors listed, only one was real, and she had no book even sort of like the book that was credited to her.

I tried again, this time stressing that the books should be real. Same result. Different details, but every book was fake. Obviously, this tool is of very limited utility for me. Other writers have done this and found actual comp titles. Maybe I am just uncomp-able?

Other people are finding utility in this tool, mostly for brainstorming ideas. I tried this too, and what it gave me was the most cliched and hackneyed of plot ideas. Seriously, nothing usable. One of my friends in my dnd group uses it to generate backstories for our characters, and God bless, you Jeff, but the text generated is, let’s say, ‘devoid of inspiration,’ and the plots are just rehashes of other things. Several short story markets have closed to submissions because they are being inundated with ai-generated submissions, all of which are badly written.  

Also, people who’ve used it to do research for them have reported that you can’t trust anything it tells you. It comes up with stuff that sounds right but could be completely inaccurate. So, its usefulness as a research assistant is nil, at this point.

I fully grant that the problem could be me, but I am not finding this an even marginally useful tool. I know the technology is in its infancy, and will get better, but for now, I am not worried about being replaced.

And even if it does get better, I must wonder why it’s being used this way at all. I can see applications for AI. As a virtual personal assistant? Sure! As a way of completing complicated legal documents? You bet! Why is it being turned toward creative endeavors. Free us from drudgery, please, not the work that people actually want to do.

Now, if a writer wanted to use it to give them a rough first draft to get their ideas organized, and then rewrite it into something worthwhile, I can see the utility in that. I don’t think that’s unethical. But if you’re using it to just regurgitate a blog post or something, what is the point of that? There are enough blog posts in the world. We won’t miss yours. Also, as far as storytelling goes, for the most part, the stories generated are simple summaries of events. I haven’t seen anything ai-generated that was even close to an immersive scene, or a compelling character, or a shocking plot twist. AI can only, for now, spit back versions of what it has been fed.

This may change in the future, but even if it does, and an AI becomes capable of generating original fiction, I am not interested in reading it. Part of why I read fiction (and non-fiction too) is to gain the benefit of another human being’s perspective and experience. That is completely lacking if it’s written by an AI. Right now, AI has real ‘Yorkshire Terrier that has been taught to stand on its hind legs and pretend to talk’ vibes. Maybe it will get better, but even if it does, I probably won’t use it.

I’m going to keep an eye on how the technology develops. If I could download an AI assistant to help me organize myself, and do accurate research, that would be a godsend. I routinely use Microsoft Word’s editor feature, which is not exactly an AI but something close to it, and sometimes it has good suggestions. I am not anti-AI. But I think the creative work needs to be left to humans.

originally published on chadgrayson.com

[miekasa]

mie….could we please get college au eren headcanons👉🏽👈🏽

Of course. I’m always thinking about his big head anyway <33 might as well put it good use.

One thing he learned in college is how to make his hyperfocus/fixation episodes work for him; that’s why he schedules all his classes as close together as possible. He’d rather have class back to back for 5 hours, than have it spread out with hours in between lectures, because that increases his changes of cutting.

You can always tell when he’s in class and/or what class he’s in by how much he responds to your messages. If he doesn’t text back at all, he’s in a class that hard or one he enjoys, or both. But if he’s sending you iMessage games, then you know he’s in his elective that he couldn’t care else about (and is probably cheating in someway somehow lmfao). 

He usually puts his phone on dnd when he’s in a class that’s important, but you’re in his favorite contacts, so your messages always ring through. What if it’s an emergency and you need him for something? Advanced Roots of Human Biology can wait. 

Some days there are one or two our breaks between his lectures, that’s just how the scheduling works out. When that happens, he usually sneaks into one of your lectures, or goes to your place to take a nap. Your roommates have become accustomed to him, honestly they’ve been considering giving him a key. 

Once, he didn’t realize that your lecture was basically a seminar, with you, the prof and maybe six other students. He still stayed lmao, and the prof was so amazed by his dedication, that she didn’t even mind. Occasionally, you’ll catch the two of them talking after lecture. It’s pretty cute the way she’s adopted him into the class even tho he’s not on the roster. 

You... have to show him where the library is lmfao. He genuinely has not stepped foot in one until you bring him to one. He likes it tho lmao once he gets used to it. 

Speaking of which, do not give him standard directions to find your classes on campus because all you’ll get is, “Babe, I’m gonna keep it real with you, I’ve never heard of the ‘West Quad’ a day in my life. What building are you near.”

He usually comes to see you in the library after all his lectures are done for the day. Sometimes he does homework, sometimes he’s just fucking around on his computer, sometimes he’s just bothering you. When you have to leave to go to class, he stays behind to watch your stuff so you don’t have to pack everything up and come back. 

Very protective when it comes to keeping your seat for you. No, you cannot take that chair to your table you good for nothing freshman; it’s reserved for you. 

He’ll drag you out of the library if you’ve been cooped up all day, tho. Eren will use his height and his strength against you to get you up. Placates you with kisses when he sees your angry expression, and promises to buy you food.

He takes your backpack for you when you’re walking together,m. His backpack is frustratingly light all the time, even during midterms. You swear all he’s got in there is a pencil and some flashcards. 

If you have night classes, he sticks around to walk you home after, especially in the winter when it gets dark faster. If he’s not already on campus, he’ll walk/drive back to meet you; he just doesn’t like you going home alone. Even if your friend/roommate is in the class with you, Eren will walk or drive the both of you home for his own sanity. 

He plays sports, so he usually has practice most evenings, but he’ll find a way to make time. If practice was particularly brutal, he’ll probably crash at your place.

He loves it when you come to meet him after practice. His whole face lights up and he waves obnoxiously, before he gathers up his stuff and all but sprints towards you. You get a cold water bottle to the face, or a bit of water splashed on you usually, which he takes immense amusement in. 

He knows it’s not possible for you to make it to all of his games, and usually it doesn’t bother him much; you’ve got your own life, and work to worry about. All he asks is that you wear his jersey, or any item of his sports apparel/merch on game day (he’s partial to hoodies).

By the time junior year rolls around, he’s not all that interested in attending parties that aren’t hosted by your friends; so, unless it’s at Connie, Jean, or Reiner and Bertholdt’s place, Eren will usually decline. Even team parties, he’s not crazy about unless it’s to celebrate a championship or something. He’d much rather celebrate with you. 

He does get excited about hosting parties though, and he and Jean become pretty damn good co-hosts. They don’t throw ragers, and that’s probably why Eren likes it so much. It’s usually your friend group and a couple plus ones, some good music, games, weed, and take-out. 

He’ll buy you coffee whenever you ask for it. The first time, he just orders something plain, not really knowing the difference between anything; but give it two or three tries, and he’ll get it perfect. He becomes so good that he can order you something new/different and you’ll love it. 

That’s kind of the start of his own coffee addiction, and more often than not, when he buys you a cup, he’s on his second or third of the day himself. The flavor has really grown on him, okay. 

He much prefers your apartment, but on occasion, he’ll ask you to come to his. You’ve been studying for so long, a change of environment should do you good, he claims. He’s a fucking liar tho because that’s all Eren Talk for “I do genuinely want you to come over, but my plans are to coerce you out of doing your assignments and doing me instead.”

Lmfao he adds you on Apple Watch Rings just so you can see him close his rings every day and laugh at you. Even if yours get closed by virtue of walking around campus or working out or whatever, his numbers are stupidly high because he fucking has practice at least 4 days of the week. 

Of course when you’re running on a soccer field for 2 hours every day, you close your Move Ring five times, Eren. Leave the rest of us alone. 

He buys you guys matching accessories for your keychains. It’s something pretty cute, and slightly random, but it reminded him of you. It also serves as a reminder to himself to take his fucking keys with him when he leaves his house. 

He sleeps like a fucking rock, so do not let him fall asleep in the library. Waking him up is a mission, and he’s never happy to be woken up. He looks kinda cute tho. 

He schedules dates for you and his friends. Usually by accident, but hear me out. Sometimes he’ll make plans with Armin, then forget that he has class or a test or something; so his solution is to text you, “hey, i forgot min and i were supposed to go some aquarium tomorrow but i have a midterm so here’s the pdf of my ticket, go with him for me, thanks babe love u” then, boop, you and Armin have an aquarium date Friday evening. 

The same thing happens with Mikasa, though, she usually catches the scheduling conflict before Eren does, and invites you out herself. You and Mikasa hang out quite a bit anyway, so it comes to the point where she tells you when she’s gonna hang out with Eren, so you can make yourself free for when he inevitably remember he has a game that day. 

Mikasa is most amazed that you’ve put up with Eren this long lmao. You’ve certainly lessened her Eren & Armin babysitting hours, and for that she’s eternally grateful. Also, she’s just happy to have another close friend. She loves Eren and Armin, but they’re not the most social beings, and she was literally their only friend besides the other for all their childhood PLEASE she’s so happy you’re around. 

It’s Mikasa, however, who babysits you and Eren whenever you both get too drunk. Says you guys are two peas in a pod (affectionate<2)

If you tell Eren something important that happened, like an internship you got, or a good grade in a class, or something, he usually relays that information to his mom pls. He texts her every day, and if she doesn’t ask for an update on you first, he gives her one.

Carla calls you sometimes, too. At least once every few weeks, just to check on you herself. She really likes you for Eren, and is grateful someone is willing to put up with her hotheaded son. 

Eren’s always using your fucking chapstick. Always. You know he has his own, so why he needs to use yours is beyond you. Finds time to make some dumbass comment about how it’s an “indirect kiss” every time he uses it too. Like bro, we’re dating, and have had many direct kisses why are you like this.

He posts on Instagram every few weeks or so, but you’re on his story every few days. Usually, it’s just a video of you minding your business and doing your work while Eren slowly zooms in before making some loud noise to surprise you, all so he can get your reaction on video and laugh at it. He’s annoying. 

He’s a bit of a copycat when it comes to the products you use. He’ll buy the same brand of pens as you (for that matter, all of his school supplies mirror yours because what does he know about the difference between A4 and A5 notebooks?), put a little hand sanitizer on his backpack like yours (and a lotion, too, for good measure), he even copies your Starbucks order until he finds one he likes for himself. It’s one of his love languages <3

If you’re wondering where your eyelash curler went, Eren stole it to try it on himself, hurt himself, vowed to never use it again, went back because he wanted to “do it right and not give up,” liked the results when he didn’t pinch his eyelid, and now it’s his. 

That being said, stop trying to put your Fenty lipgloss on him, it’s never going to happen. Eye makeup, maybe, only if you sit in his lap and he can have his hands on your ass while you do it. 

What he does love is letting you do his skincare. He will set aside dedicated skincare nights, he adores it. Easily one of his favorite things ever. 

You have his wallet. Not because he’s your sugar daddy or anything (although, if you want something, he’d definitely let you use his card to get it; and even if you bought something without asking, he wouldn’t think twice about it), but because he put it in your bag once and never took it out. 

When you tried to give it back, he just shook his head and told you to keep it, “I have my ID in my phone case anyway, and you’re less likely to lose it. Plus I put all my cards on Apple Pay, so I’m good.”

When you do make it to a game of his, he’s all over you when it’s over. Not in a cocky athlete boyfriend kind of way; in a very sleepy boyfriend kind of way. He’s usually got ice on at least one part of his body, and he’s got half his body weight on you as you walk to the car. 

By the time you guys get back to your place, he’s practically sleep walking. The only thing on his mind is taking a hot shower to soothe his muscles, and heading to bed. The aftermath of game days aren’t all that bad though, because even if you didn’t show, you’re always there to kiss him when he’s home and massage his shoulders, and cuddle him to sleep; and that’s his favorite part. 

[juiceboxman]

Advice for New DMs

I’ve been lucky enough to have DM’d a weekly game for over a year now and I’ve had conversation with people irl and online about how they think about DMing but aren’t necessarily too confident in their own ability or don’t even know where to start. So here’s some things I would suggest to get started, things to keep in mind and advice about general stuff. Here we go;

1) Familiarise Yourself with the Rules. You can read the DMs Manual or the Player’s Manual for rules. You can find rules explained everywhere online from Roll 20 to DND Beyond. But if you don’t like reading, and I get that cause the thought of reading a 200+ page instruction manual on how to play a game does sound daunting, I would suggest watching or listening to Actual Play Shows. If you watch like a few episodes of Critical Role or Dimension 20, you kind of get the basics of DnD. That’s really all you need to start DMing, just the basics like “what which Dice do”.

2) Know your Players. DnD is a collaborative game and all good collaboration necessitates some base understanding of who you’re collaborating with. You don’t necessarily need to know the people you’re playing with very well, but just enough to get where you can decide whether these people are chill to play with. So say if you’re gonna be playing a horror/scary campaign and you know one of the people in mind for playing isn’t too into horror- maybe don’t have them play cause it will make them uncomfortable. That example is perfectly fine but it delves into extremes when you’re dealing with people who are just difficult. You can look up online and find tons of stories relating to bad dnd experiences with just rude, shitty people. I would like to clarify that by saying that these experiences aren’t a DnD problem- it’s a social group problem. If you hang out wih a shitty person they will inevitably do shitty things, and honestly its better that a shitty outburst occurs at a controlled environment such as a DnD Game than say a house party where all sorts of shit could happen. So know your players. If they’re cool people, they’ll make cool players. If they’re kind of shit heads, they’re going to cause a lot of issues and not the fun kind. Know the difference between “shenanigans” and “open disrespect” because you as the DM put a lot of work into the game, if the players don’t respect that- maybe don’t play with them. No dnd is better than bad dnd 

3) Know Your Game. This rule helps a lot if you are familiar with lots of DnD shows, which gives you a frame of reference for the type of campaign you wanna run. If you wanna go big dramatic epics with a lot of strict survivalist rules, Critical Role is a good place to reference. If you wanna go for balls to the wall humour with a lot of heart and emotional moments, NADDPOD is a good place to reference. You want a proper scary campaign, watch Sophomore Year from Dimension 20- it is primarily a comedy show but when they do drama they do DRAMA. Knowing your players allows you to know the game better. It took me quite a while in my own campaign t realise “Oh I’m not running a CR game, I’m running a NADDPOD game” and ater I realised that I was able to play it better. Know the game, know the genre, know what you and your players like and enjoy and try to maximise that fun.

4) Preparation. DMs do a lot of preparation whenever they intend to run a game. I would argue that the amount of preparation you want to do should be equal to the amount of time you’re willing to spend. Sad fact of life is that DnD, and other activities with friends, are all dependant on IRL scheduling. A campaign can fizzle and die out at a moments notice, not all stories get finished and if you wanna start any creative process that’s a reality you have to accept. I’m a creative person, I do quite a lot of writing and stuff on the side so when I do prep for DnD I don’t want to spend too much of my creative juice on a project that only six people at a table will know about compared to one that would feature a larger audience. Also if you have a busy schedule you might not have time to worldbuild, so short cuts help. So in those respects I don’t see anything wrong with being lazy. There are plenty of websites online where you can randomly generate maps, towns, characters- you name it. You don’t need to spend hours on end developing streets of a city that no one will walk down or lore behind businesses no one will ask about. You just need to be familiar enough with the history or your world, its vibe and tone in which you can effectively improv the rest. I’ve been DMing a game now for well over a year, I spend less than an hour a week doing prep. I write a few bullet points for stuff to bring up in the session, I make a brief map for encounters, I’ll look up monster stats, maybe draw up some homebrew and heroforge pictures of the NPCs- that’s it

5) Improv. I think 90% of DMing is pure improv. Depending how well you know your players and their characters, you can predict certain behaviours. So if you have an NPC say or do something that you know will gaina certain reaction from a player, that’s something you are certain about. Everything else however can be improv based. Players will surprise you. They’ll do weird dumb shit and they will do really cool game breaking shit. You have an NPC who was supposed to be a big villain? Well the PCs all teamed up and with an effective strategy, that NPC is now dead. It’s the lay of the land. The goal with prep is to have enough prepared that you can effectively pull stuff out of your ass with no issue. Improv isn’t necessarly difficult, all you really need is to listen. When a player responds to something and you feel its worth rolling for, have them roll for it. If tey roll well, tell them they did the thing. If not, tell them they didn’t. If the thing they asked for is impossible, tell them it’s impossible. You can come up with all sorts on the fly

6) DND isn’t like TV/BOOKS/MOVIES. DND is a weird medium of entertainment. Its a collaberative game where you all make a narrative, but a lot of strange stuff happens in between. Like if youre watching a movie or a show or reading a book you might think to yourself “why is this character spending twenty minutes talking to this waiter that genuinely isn’t that interesting?” or something like “why did the main villain die five pages in?” DND doesn’t follow a beat structure or format. Plot armor doesn’t fit here, it’s all decisions and luck- that’s it. Don’t be dissapointed in your work in regards to storytelling. Don’t worry about plot holes or inconsistencies, just focus on player engagement. If the players are having fun, then you’re playing the game right. You as the DM have to make sure that everyone is playing fairly and having fun. Treat your players equally, don’t be a dick, don’t be a pushover. You have to know what your players want, but also know what they don’t want. If your players like a weird NPC, have that NPC show up more cause they enjoy it. If your players discover an ability ot a magic object that left untouched will alter game play (e.g. one of my PCs recently gained an ability in which they gained the breath weapon of an ancient red dragon) that if used effectively could elminate all threat from any boss fight ever- don’t be afraid to NERF that. You need to be considerate about your enjoyment and the players enjoyment, its all in the balance.

That’s the main six points I have so far. If I have anymre I’ll be sure to add them. If anyone has any advice, feel free to add below. Hope this helps! Also; Brennan Lee Mulligan has a good podcast giving DM advice called Adverturing Academy. Has a lot of cool guests. The episode featuring Carlos Luna from Roll 20 is actually good career advice and gets me motivated just thinking about it. Definitely worth checking out!

[to-hell-and-beyond]

“Every.Last.One” Pt.2

Eli “Hawk” Moskowitz x Reader

Requested: Yes : No

Request: Every last one pt 2 ?? -Anon

Here it is! Took a while but I’m glad of the ending. Maybe pt.3 were it talks about the two of them getting closer?

Summary: After your promise to yourself you try your hardest to fulfill it. Even hating on the Eagle Fang Students. But what happens when everything changes at a Christmas Party?

Words: 1725

Pt.1

Hate. That was the one thing coursing through your veins every time you saw him. The boy who you’d had grown up with, grown up loving, now filled with hate and vengeance. At first he wanted vengeance for everyone who had made fun of him. Every lip joke, whisper and tear. You were ok with that, you were glad to see those bullies pay the price of Karma. But what Hawk didn’t see was the line between vengeance and just pure hate. You were also trying to see the line but everyday it's getting harder and harder becoming more of a distant memory..

“I really think you should come Y/n! We’ve had a hard past few weeks and I think this will be good for everyone!” Samantha LaRusso’s voice rang from your phone as she tried to convince you to come to her Christmas party. The two of you had gotten closer ever since what happened with Demetri. She had been there while you were recovering from the emotional storm that was “Hawk”.

“I don’t know Sam. I’m still not really close to the other Miyagi-do students and the last thing I want is to make things awkward. Besides this is my first winter holiday without Eli…”

“Exactly! That's why you should come!” You thought about it for a few minutes. Would it really be that bad if you came? I mean Demitri was already going to be there, and you promised yourself you would be there to help him during his recovery.

“Alright I’ll go.” A sound of excitement came from your phone as Sam started telling you about all sorts of stuff she wanted to do to prepare for the party. What she wasn’t telling you was that she invited the Eagle Fang Students. You still didn't have a good relationship with them, seeing them as still Cobras and you promised yourself, Every.Last.One

You weren’t exactly sure what to bring to this party.  It wasn't like you were invited to a lot of parties in your high school career. The only parties you’ve been to are birthdays and DnD game nights. Even with your little experience you still when’t. You knocked on the door and there was Samantha LaRusso. She looked a lot better then when she was in the hospital. You were glad about that fact.

“Hey Y/n!” Sam said enthusiastically. As she pushed the door wide open and gestures for you to come in. She re-introduced you to some of the Miyagi Do students as you politely waved to them.You sat beside Demitri as Sam began to pace around. You were confused for a second, wondering why on earth she looked so scared. You didn’t say anything though, not wanting to make her feel bad in any way. It was the winter holidays, it was time to be nice.

“Well, this Christmas party turned out to be  ho-ho-horrible.” Demitri said and you kinda agreed. Shure you’ve never been to an actual party but this wasn't what you saw on those T.V dramas.

“Yah, Sam. I thought you said your parents are going to be out for the night. So why aren't we throwing a rager?” There was distant “yeah” in agreement in the background as Sam looked more and more worried. You knew that she was hiding something but you weren’t sure what.

“There’s a keg on the way. It’s just going to be a few more minutes.” She looked to seem like she was trying to pump us up for a huge game or something like that but she was doing the exact opposite. Safe to say this entire party was a fail.

“Can we atleast put on a Christmas special?” Demitri asked and you nodded in agreement. That's what the three of you would do every Christmas. It was your thing, until the tides changed.

“Id even watch that creepy one with the little elf dentist.” You snorted in laughter remembering the time you did watch that. Demitri was complaining the whole way through you and Eli laughed. Ah, the good old days.

“Yeah, I’m that bored.” Demitri said when he saw the look of disgust on Sam’s face.The doorbell rang and Sam said an excited, “ It’s here!”.

Oh it was definitely here. Sadly it was not a keg, but a bunch of ex Cobras turned into Eagles. Oh how you wanted to punch their faces right now. There was a sign of protest from each member of Miyagi-do as they ran up to the door ready to kick the “Keg” out. While they all ran you stayed put on the couch.

“Look, I know we haven’t always gotten along, but Cobra Kai is the bigger threat now. To all of us.” Sam said that last line as she looked into your eyes. Never in a million years did you think she would pull something like this.

“We think that we’d stand a better chance against them if we joined forces.” Miguel said as your eyes glowed with hate and you curled your fist to the point that your knuckles were white.

“We?” You spat as the group turned around to look at you.

“This isn’t going to work.” Miguel mumbled as he saw your hands. Yes, you may not be a Karate champion but your loyal, and loyal people fight to the death for people they love.

“It has to. We have one last chance to make things right. Alone, we’re nothing. But if we work together, we have a shot. If we can’t get over the past, the fighting will never end. We have to confront our enemies. This rivalry has to stop. One way or another... Y/n?” She asked worried about your answer. You took a deep breath before you decided to confront your demons.

“I was never part of this “Rivalry” to begin with. I was just looking out for my friends before all of this had started, so technically my opinion doesn't matter. But I suppose that if we can put all of this behind us we may be able to achieve something.” Sam smiled as you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. Maybe this night won’t be as terrible.  You were all sitting on Sam’s kitchen table and Demitri went over some of the new rules. 

“I’m going to go get a glass of water.” You told them as you stood up and walked out of the door. After you left the sounds of a cat were heard.

“I didn’t know you had a cat.” Miguel told Sam. Sam looked confused for a second before turning back.

“We don’t.” Just as Sam finished saying those last words the window broke and you were hurt by some of the glass. Everyone turned around to see the Cobra Kia’s walk in. You were horrified to see Kylar with them. You had heard the rumors that he had joined Cobra Kai, but never in a million years did you think that they were true.

People started jumping out of every corner and soon it was a full blown on fight. You hurried to hide in the corner near the stairs as the fighting got worse. Now, you could go in there and beat those people but in all honesty you didn’t want to get charged with assult.You watched as the filler red mohawk as he fought and fought and fought. Your breathing hitched as you saw Demitri in pain.

“Hey. Yo, Hawk. Free shot!” One of the Cobras yelled to Hawk across the room. You watched as his face fell. You were worried for a second time he would hurt your friend and you were ready to stop that from happening but something unexpected happened. Hawk ran, and then he flipped one of the Cobras over and they fell on the glass table. He started fighting more and more of them and then turned around to Demitri.

“Look, man. I’m sorry.” Hawk said as he faced Demitri. “For all of it. Do you wanna help me win this thing?” 

“Yeah.” Demitri answered as they both smiled and began to kick the shit out of the rest of the Cobras.

The fight was now all over. Sam had fought her way through the pain to beat Tory, Miguel had actually gotten the power back to kick and better yet to kick Kylar’s stupid face. And Hawk and Demtri were buddies again. But you still couldn't get over the pain, unlike everyone else.

“Y/n?” You tried around to see Hawk. He looked almost scared as he approached you, worrying that you would kick him to the curve. 

“Yes?” You asked with venom in your voice. You still didn’t forgive him for what he did at the hospital. It was a mistake? What kind of mistake is the two of you loving each other? Why was he even here?

“Look, I know that after everything that has happened you're mad and you have every right to be I was dick. I didn’t just hurt Demitir bad, I hurt you too. You were my best friend Y/n, but you were something more than that. And I know it's going to take a long time or we might not even get back to that point but I want to prove to you that I’ve changed.” You thought about his words for a while. Were they all true? Was this another one of his sick games?

“Ok. If you apologize to everyone here and give Demitri a better apology then that half ass one you did I’ll think about it. Your right, It's going to take a lot of time and effort to get back to where we were. That’s why I want you to think a lot about this. If you're sure you're ready to do that you can meet me at the mall on Tuesday as just friends, nothing more.” You told him and you saw his smile. The sweet smile that you missed so dearly. It was so nice to see that smile on his face again.

“Ok.” He told you as he smiled. You would still beat every single Cobra, but right now it was the two of you's time to fix your relationship. Beating the shit out of them would have to wait for later.

[staggeringsmite]

i have a question did u find the wandering isles crew through one of those like. roll20 online things that find ppl for u? i really Really want to play as a player and not a dm but none of my friends feel confident being a dm and i have no idea how to find ppl 😭 or any advice on how to make my players feel more comfortable dm-ing? they’re all very very new is the problem. ik u also have “always the dm” syndrome so i am curious as to ur thoughts

hello anon! i have never used roll20's system, so i can't really speak to how effective it is. i actually found the wandering isles crew through d20/general dnd tumblr! if i remember correctly i made a post basically saying to interact with it if you would be interested in starting up an online game. it was different because i was already offering to dm the campaign (since i particularly like dm'ing and had a concept in mind). i talked to people from that pool individually for a bit before video/voice calling just to make sure the vibes seemed alright, and luckily everything worked out from there!

what i might suggest in your situation is offering to at least run a one shot if everyone else at the table is new to dnd and too afraid to dm. being the only one with dm'ing experience and getting slotted into that seat can be frustrating, but with a one shot you aren't committing to dm'ing a longterm campaign and everyone could at least get situated with the rules. plus, seeing you dm could be a teachable moment and lessen the stress of the "dm halo" for people who might be too intimidated to give it a try. also walking people through/showing them a module layout after you've run it is a great way to display that you can run something with a guidebook and don't have to come up with everything on your own all the time (which was certainly one of my biggest fears just starting out). it also might be worth a shot to try and get everyone in your group to commit to running a one shot. this would take the pressure off of any one person to "step up" into the dm spot, and you'd have a rotation of new dm's proving that you can fumble around running the game and still have a great time. plus, someone might really like it once they've tried it. at the end of the day dm'ing is not for everyone, and no one should feel forced into it or uncomfortable about it. however, it's important to remember that all dm's start somewhere, and ttrpg's are just games where you're supposed to have fun with your friends. taking the "great, grand adventure" mindset out of dm'ing might help people feel more comfortable if they just remember the core goal is to have fun with your friends for a little while.

my other suggestion would be that if you are not married to the dungeons and dragons system, there are SO MANY fantastic GM-less indie ttrpgs out there. or, there are ones that do have a dm but have much more simplified mechanics that might be less intimidating for people worried about running dnd. most of these are suited to one shots but are highly replayable and would be great stepping stones if you want to transition into dnd at some point. for GM-less i would suggest looking into The Ground Itself by Everest Pipkin, Sleepaway by Possum Creek Games IF your group is alright with horror, and Mage Against the Machine by Jordan Palmer. for simplified i would suggest Sexy Battle Wizards and Skull Wizards of Chaos Cavern which are both fun, simple romps that really don't have a lot of pressure on the dm because of how whacky and freeform they're meant to be!)

i wish you the best of luck in finding a group to play in and hope that this response was as helpful as it could be! happy gaming <333

[cxmetery-gates]

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS - DARK!TOM HIDDLESTON

CHAPTER TWO: FOR THE FIRST TIME

SUMMARY: Lynn meets the attractive English teacher, Mr. Tom Hiddleston. WORD COUNT: 3.1k NOTE: it’s 3:00 am but I don’t have a sleep schedule. Enjoy! WARNINGS: dark!tom hiddleston, teacher!tom hiddleston

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS MASTERLIST

INSIDE IS HAVOC.

For some idiotic reason, most students somehow forget what classes they signed up for three months ago or lost their schedules (I still wonder how that happens) and thus, the front office is a mess of students asking for theirs, the lines bleeding out into the hall. Given this, getting around to head to the commons will be a mission in and of itself. I'm not hating on all of them. As a freshman I was in the same place, my shaky hands and nervously stuttering voice mirroring the kids that smell brand new. Hopefully, to avoid this debacle again, they'll write the classes down. I guarantee the already exhausted looking receptionists would agree.

I almost want to tell the small, thin girl who wrings her hands 'good luck' but I guarantee she'd faint by the time I open my mouth. Instead, Ellie and I keep walking past the crowd. Poor souls.

It takes a minute or so to reach the commons, the booming echoes of chatting teenagers on their first day back is a sound like no other. The voices create a paved path any newcomer could easily follow. It dawns on me now that this will be the last time I'll hear this sound. I solemnly smile.

"I'm telling you, Dunmer is the better race."

"Only an idiot would spew such ignorant bullshit! Everyone knows Khajiit are the superior race!"

"Says the guy who could pass as a furry."

My eyebrows raise once the familiar voices are heard. Of course, they sit alone and look as normal as ever. My heart dips into my stomach when one of the two glances up and bashfully raises a hand to wave. In his awkward state, his hand barely moves.

Ellie is the first to speak. "What are you guys fighting about now?"

The boy with the long black hair speaks first. "Dumbass over here thinks Dark Elves are the best characters in Skyrim." Gabriel Ahoka is one of the oldest friends I have and if there's anything I've learned from him, it's that he's right the majority of the time. Oh, and he has beautiful hair.

"Because I'm right!" I take a seat next to the self-proclaimed judge. His name is River Adams, and I think I've been in love with him since he told me I reminded him of Hermione Granger back in the fourth grade. I smile in his direction then tuck some hair behind my ear. A nervous twitch that doesn't get past Ellie's ever watchful eyes. I refuse to acknowledge her small smirk. Instead, we both join in on the two dorks' conversation.

Ellie rolls her big brown eyes at them. "I don't see what the fuss is about. You guys take your games too seriously."

Both River and Gabriel audibly gasp at her comment.

"Fine," Gabriel huffs looking in my direction. "What about you, Lynn-ykinz?"

I don't visibly react to his nickname. It's something I've been called for years now. Though I'd like to agree with River, it's something I can't do. "Dunmers—"

"Ha!"

"— are for pussies."

"Ha!" This laugh comes from the boy sitting across from me. Beside me, River makes a small "oh" and lowers his raised fists, his hooray coming to a short and final end. I chuckle at his reaction as I pass Gabriel a solid high five.

"What are your guys' schedules?" River asks a tiny bit of gloom and annoyance coating his words.

Fortunately, most of us are in similar classes and only have to be here for a little over half the day. Due to all of us sticking to the scheduling plan, we all were able to get almost all our required course and electives done. Instead of having seven classes in one day, we all have five. By the time lunch rolls around, we're free the rest of the afternoon, meaning much longer DND matches with the nerds and more gossip and jam times with the only other female in our group.

"So meet up at the library for lunch?" I confirm once more as the morning bell rings, signally to all the student and staff that the first day is about to begin. The three people around me reply in agreement, and we head out. For the first hour of the day as well as the last, we're in different places. I'm not sure where the others are going, but I begin my journey to the library, one of my all-time favorite places.

I walk through the doors and slide over the counter, careful not to be seen but not careful enough. I plop in my seat at the front desk as someone walks up behind me.

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you to go through the gate. It's literally five feet away, Lynn!" I send a humored smile to the woman walking behind me, a rather large stack of books in her arms.

I stand up and begin taking ones off the top. "Five feet of unnecessary effort, in my opinion."

"And playing parkour in the library is?" Mrs. Gibbons says, deadpanning.

"To each their own."

She sighs but then laughs. "How was your summer, kid?"

"Pretty decent." I now have half the stack in my arms, and I follow behind her. "My mom and I went to Arizona for a few days and then Seattle for a week. We didn't have much time, but we drove through somewhere in Canada on the way back just because."

Mrs. Gibbons sets the books down on a cart where there are a couple of rows on the bottom already filled. Taking her lead, I lower my stack to the opposite side and begin placing them side by side. I presume these are outdated and to be sold or given away. "What's in Arizona and Seattle?"

A smile hits my face immediately. "There's a college in Flagstaff with a great writing program. I went on a day trip around the campus. And Seattle is just someplace we wanted to visit."

"That's so good to hear, hon! Are you considering?"

I lean back against the counter right behind me as my mentor continues to shelve books. "It's a little far."

Turning to face me, Mrs. Gibbons send me a confused stare. "I thought you wanted to get away from this god-forsaken state?"

She's right. All I've wanted since my father left was to get out of Missouri (or Misery, if anyone's asking). My mom and I left Maine a long time ago go escape unimaginable horrors, but I wasn't expecting those nightmares to follow me here. The move was negligent in getting us away from memories a selfish prick poisoned and to start new somewhere far away, where no one knows me as the girl with a deadbeat dad. In this small town, everyone knows everything. I'd like to escape, to be a complete stranger to everyone.

But Arizona is a couple of thousand miles away from the place I grew up in, my home. I feel incredibly guilty about considering a college so far away from the woman who has taken care of me on her own since I entered elementary school, who has taught me that voicing my opinion and being honest is valued more than timidity and who told me that no man should ever keep a thumb on me. The other influencers in my life are also staying around here. Ellie has been accepted in a very pretentious private school for the Fine Arts a couple of cities over while River and Gabe are thinking about community college before making the jump into university. While solitude and adventures are what I crave, everyone who keeps my sanity in control is here.

I sigh, crossing my arms. "I do, but... I'm just not sure what I really want. Like, I would kill to get out of here, but what if everywhere is worse?"

"Trust me; there's nowhere worse than southwest Missouri, hon."

Again, she has a point.

I hum in response. There a brief moment of silence as we shelve old, dusty books. "So how was your summer?"

Mrs. Gibbons smile kindly, fawning over memories I doubt. "Richie took two weeks off, and we went Fiji. It was so beautiful. The water is clear, the people are wonderful, and the food– oh my God, the food." I secretly have a small thing for Richard Gibbons, or, as his wife calls him, Richie. This "thing" isn't a crush or infatuation by any means, but when he walks into the library on random occasions, he has a natural gift to swoon anyone he encounters. I've unfortunately fallen victim to his charisma a few times. He's an image of the wealthy 1930's businessman with modern values and beliefs weaved in his fine suits. Mr. Gibbons might be my mother's age, or possibly older, but I have to say, Mrs. Gibbons is quite the lucky woman.

I chuckle at her. "I'm sometimes surprised you haven't filed for early retirement."

"Richie makes quite the cash, but how and I supposed to entertain myself when he's gone ten hours a day and then for weeks on end?" Mrs. Gibbons pauses and looks around her library, then back to me. The growing crows feet wrinkle into a smile. "And besides, I can't leave my favorite kids behind, now can I?"

"I guess you can't," I reply.

Ten minutes later, I'm back at my desk. Well, technically mine, Mrs. Gibbons, and the other kid who helps out during school hours. I've never met them, so I'm not sure who exactly they are. Anyway, the "desk" is a long bar that has a foot-high wall that stretches all the way down to the ends, creating a divider between my computer and a student or faculty member. The top of this divider is flat, forming a plane in which books or arms can be set on. Most of the time, books scatter the top, but since it's the first day, the library is not only spotlessly clean but deadly empty.

That is until someone catches my attention. Sitting at the far side of the desk, I'm able to see who is coming a mile before he steps through the open library doors. This time was no different.

With long, lean legs and a towering height walks in none other than Mr. Tom Hiddleston.

Easily being the hottest teacher of all time, I feel a blush beginning to creep up my cheeks just at the mere sight of him. Apart from his 6'2 figure, he sports tame yet still curly reddish-brown hair, divine enough for the gods, if he isn't one already. Mr. Hiddleston's cheekbones and jawline remind me of razors, which I would feel honored to be cut by. However, his eyes are a color I can't pick out. Because I've never been in close proximity, my guess, from my distance, is green, or maybe blue. The ambiguity makes him all the more interesting. I wonder if he has some long-distance vibe because as soon as I look up to see him, Mrs. Gibbons is right out front— and missing her cardigan. I raise my brows at her from the swivel chair, but her eyes are focused down and away from me. Elbowing her slightly, I nod once, doing a run over of her exposed arms and a little cleavage. Jokingly, she swats my arms and blushes scarlet. I begin to laugh, somehow holding most in when Mr. Hiddleston walks in.

"Hello, Ruby," he smiles softly. As if he wasn't attractive enough, the man has a damn British accent. It's almost as if he's trying to stick out among the hicks. "It's good to see you. How was your summer, darling?"

If her fingers weren't wrapped around the edge of the desk, I guarantee she would have fallen over. Honestly, I would have done the same. "Absolutely marvelous! Fiji is a beautiful place. I imagine you would like it there."

I make the snarky note that she left her husband out of the conversation. Thinking about it, I try to glance over at her left hand to check if anything is missing.

Zoning out the best I could, I file through the library's emails and begin writing down books teachers are requesting. Like usual, the freshmen English teachers ask for The Great Gatsby, and the sophomore teachers need 1984. Due to being taught-in-class books, I scoot back in my chair to make a beeline to the back room and take the note with me, the sticky top staying attached to my fingertips.

"Oh, Lynn?" I hear Mrs. Gibbons call out.

I just entered the back room, so I comically poked my head out. "You called?"

I seem to humor both parties, a smile etched on their face. "Could you get the copies of Of Mice and Men?" My vision glances over to the teacher behind the desk for a short moment. His tall frame leans on the counter, arms crossed on the platform, apparently indicating familiarity and comfort in the room. I catch his stare. I realize now his eyes are in fact blue.

Nodding, I duck back into the room, setting my sticky note to the side. During the time I have to gather the fifteen or so books, I allow my reddening cheeks to cool off by taking long breaths. "Don't be weird, Lynn," I whisper to myself, extending my arms out towards the collection of novels. "He's just a hot teacher. Calm yourself."

Finishing the stack, I wrap my arms around the tower, huffing as I do. I carefully whisk myself towards the open door, making a mental note to go back to my list.

Mrs. Gibbons and Mr. Hiddleston chat among themselves not too far from where I left. Now sitting in her swivel chair, typing away feverishly on her computer, and keeping a conversation going, the librarian doesn't notice my return, though the man across does. He nods in my direction. The simplest gesture is somehow insanely attractive. Mrs. Gibbons looks over her shoulder, sending me a smirk. "Oh, there you are! Thought I lost you."

I fake a small laugh. "I'm surprised I didn't; it's quite the mess back there," I tease, waddling over to the counter. "Where would you like 'em, boss?" I'm not sure who I would refer to, glancing once at Mr. Hiddleston, to Mrs. Gibbons, then back to the stack in my arms.

"Would you mind escorting me to my classroom? I tend to be clumsy at times." With a warm smile, Mr. Hiddleston glances down to Mrs. Gibbons, awaiting her approval.

At that moment, I'm not sure if I would love or hate to go. On the one hand, I get to spend time with Mr. Hiddleston, every horny teenager's dream. On the other, I'm alone with Mr. Hiddleston, someone I've never had a conversation with let alone a 'hello' until minutes ago. Knowing my luck, I will somehow embarrass myself in front of him. It wouldn't be the end of the world since I don't have any of his classes nor do I have classes near his, but God I would feel like a fool for the rest of my life.

But, hey, he's something pretty to look at.

"Yeah, I don't mind. Is that okay, Mrs. Gibbons? I promise I won't bail on you," I say.

The librarian nods her head, fixing her glasses. "Of course, go right ahead! There isn't much to do now anyway. Just make sure you're back before the bell rings."

"Don't worry, Ruby. I won't keep her long," Mr. Hiddleston reassures.

I wouldn't be opposed if you did, I think to myself. The comment makes me blush, even going to my ears. Some reasons how I could be kept late quickly flash by and I find myself wishing I had not taken Mr. Hiddleston's offer. With my skin still burning, I make my way around the front desk as he follows me on the other side. The gate is shut, and due to my arms being preoccupied, I realized I might have to swing it using my hip, nothing too abnormal. I helped out Mrs. Gibbons last year and would do the same thing when my arms were full. However, Mr. Hiddleston was not accustomed to my way of opening the gate. Just as I go to butt it, Mr. Hiddleston reaches out. In an awkward exchange, Mr. Hiddleston's hand, which was aiming to wrap around the gate, collides on my hip instead.

It's nothing terribly exciting but enough to get a gasp and a jealous exchange from Ellie, and damn right I'll take that.

He pauses barely a second before quickly retracting his arm to his side. A blush of the same shade of scarlet cover our cheeks, an awkward laugh bubbling out.

"I'm sorry," I shyly push out.

Shaking his head, now making sure his hand is on the gate, Mr. Hiddleston bashfully looks down and opens up the exit for me. "Don't be, love. It was my fault."

"If you want to be the culprit, be my guest," I reply sassily. I don't want to see if my comment amused him or caused a cringe, so I don't look up. Instead, I look around for something to make our trip easier. "Did you want me to get a cart instead of carrying them up? It's up to you."

Shrugging, Mr. Hiddleston begins taking books from the stack, leaving me with less than half. "I don't mind walking if you don't mind. I missed my morning jog, so I'm trying to compromise the best I can."

I nod and kindly smile, even though my insides and my weak muscles are upset I took on the mission. "Walking it is then. Lead the way!"

Mr. Hiddleston turns on his heel, passing a smile to Mrs. Gibbons. "Thank you for letting me steal your little helper."

"Just return her the way she's leaving," Mrs. Gibbons retorts.

"We'll see," he replies, sending me a smirk and a wink. If the man wanted to turn my knees into jelly, he already succeeded from the first introduction. Now he's just teasing my flustered heart. "Just this way, love," Mr. Hiddleston tells me. I'm too afraid to speak, so I nod, smile, and follow beside him up the staircase.

[jasontoddiefor]

Summary: In which Anakin’s DnD group apparently contains his boyfriend’s son and neither he nor Obi-Wan are aware of that for an embarrassingly long while. Meanwhile, Korkie and Ahsoka conspire to get the most out of this joke. AN: Don’t read this if their age difference squicks you, the entire point of this AU was to make fun of it. 

Korkie knew he had an unusual relationship with his parents. He supposed it stemmed from the fact that he hadn’t known they were his parents until he was thirteen, his actual grandparents had died, and custody arrangements had to be made.

Satine had always been Aunt Satine, or Aunty Tine when he’d been younger, much to Bo-Katan’s overall amusement. Obi-Wan was his godfather who showed up to all important events, was generally interested in his activities, which, retrospectively, must have been pretty boring, and gave him ice cream behind everyone’s backs. It was weird to think of them as his parents, especially since both were still convinced it had been for the best two twenty-year-olds hadn’t been made responsible for a baby, and not just because Adonai Kryze had feared for the image of his company.

His grandfather had been a good father to him, but Korkie wasn’t so sure if Obi-Wan and Satine wouldn’t have been able to pull it off either way. They were pretty smart people. Satine had taken over grandfather’s company and Obi-Wan was a professor at the university. After grandfather had died, they’d done a pretty good job parenting him. No big arguments he could remember, fun alternating holidays and due to Obi-Wan’s now official parent status, Korkie also had more uncles and a grandfather to get to know. Not everything had gone smoothly at first, he remembered having been a very angry thirteen-year-old, but looking back, his childhood had been good.

So really, his family might be a little weird, but Korkie wouldn’t have it any other way. It occurred to him for the first time that it might cause trouble when he called Obi-Wan “Dad” on campus. He didn’t really call his parents “Mom” and “Dad” unless he wanted to poke fun at them and university was kind of really not to flaunt that the very attractive Professor Kenobi every student was fawning over – which, urgh, weird – was his father. But Obi-Wan had made a stupid comment about underage drinking – Korkie was seventeen, alright and everyone was drinking – so he had felt justified. Obi-Wan had only raised his eyebrow, wished him a good day and continued on to his English Literature class.

“Oh gosh, you just called Professor Kenobi Dad.”

Korkie turned around to see Ahsoka sneaking up on him. Ahsoka was his first friend at university. They both were “too smart for their own good” and had similar humor. Ahsoka had been an immense help getting settled on campus, especially when it came to figuring out how to stand your ground when everyone else in your classes was, on average, minimum five years older than you.

Ahsoka had introduced him to quite a lot of people, her older brother being one of them. Korkie had heard quite a lot about Anakin Skywalker before actually meeting him; or rather had learned a lot about him going by what Obi-Wan hadn't said about his new boyfriend. He was fun and kind, had helped Korkie by giving him his friend's old notes despite being busy getting PhD number who even knew anymore and studying up yet another subject. Korkie was doing law, so he shared no classes with Anakin being either a fellow student or the teacher. Ahsoka had said once that it was a little weird to sit in her biology class with Anakin as a fellow student (and older brother) and then step out of the classroom only for some engineering students to show up and ask whether Doctor Skywalker wanted the term papers by next week.

"Well, yeah," Korkie replied lamely.

Ahsoka dropped next to him at the lunch table. "Aren't you embarrassed at all?"

Korkie shrugged. "Why should I? It's the truth."

Besides, Ahsoka’s family was weird like his as well. She certainly had no room to judge. But still, she looked at him with an unreadable expression. "Obi-Wan Kenobi is your Dad, like actually your blood-related father?"

Korkie was ready to ask what all of this was about when he halted for a moment to consider. He had assumed Ahsoka knew, her brother was dating his father after all, Korkie came over to their house every other week to study and unleash eleven magic, but had anybody actually told her?

"Yes, he is," Korkie replied slowly. "I didn't know until I was thirteen, but yeah. I thought Anakin told you."

Ahsoka looked like she was torn between hilarity and disbelief, trying to figure out whether he was joking. Korkie had a pretty good poker face, but he wouldn’t lie about that.

"Oh fuck," she finally said. "I can see it, you have the same-" she waved her hand in front of his face. "But like- Anakin never- I mean, I knew Obi-Wan had a kid but I thought it was a kid-kid, not you-aged-kid."

Korkie felt like pointing out that Anakin had been Ahsoka’s legal guardian since he was like eighteen. Obi-Wan had been twenty when Korkie had been born. It wasn’t that strange.

"We're not a very typical family," Korkie said. "And Obi-Wan never formally introduced Anakin to me."

Now that Korkie thought about it, Obi-Wan had never actually introduced him to Anakin. He had never even been in a room with all three of them. True, their relationship was newer, but still. Did his father even know Korkie had weekly meetings with his boyfriend?

Ahsoka seemed to come to the same conclusion as him as her face split into a grin. "Dude, Anakin invited you to join our DnD group because he thought you looked sad and needed more friends. I don't think he knows. Does Obi-Wan-"

Korkie shook his head. "No, he doesn't"

Now Ahsoka began laughing. "Korkie, you genius, you parent-trapped them."

Well, he supposed she was right on that account.

[cynicaldesire]

Since I’m having trouble writing, I’ll just make an update post. Maybe that’ll help me feel better, get some things off my chest.

Not much to get off my chest tho. My husband had a like 2week break and we sat around mostly playing Monster Hunter Rise for the duration.

Shortly before his break, though, I was having chest pain and a toothache. My teeth have looked pretty gnarly and my gums have been receding for a while but language barrier so we’ve been too scared to go to a dentist. But we have to now because I started have Chest Pain.

My husband’s father died from heart failure. So I kept expecting my chest pain to go away so I wouldn’t have to scare him with it. But after like day 4, when the pain hadn’t gone away, I finally broke down and told him about it. He had like 3 days of work, so we agreed that I would be super careful and we lost a lot of sleep, but I checked my heart rate using my phone and tried to take it easy until my husband’s break started. We headed to the big hospital like a block away from the clinic we usually go to just in case my chest pain was serious. We struggle our way through language barriers and I explain my symptoms to the doctor. It was mostly some burning pain at the time. Doctor has me get an ECG and some bloodwork. He tells me the ECG is normal so my actual heart muscle is fine, but the bloodwork says my liver is inflamed in response to something, but it’s not an infection, so he’s gonna prescribe me some NSAIDs and tells me to come back in a week. My husband says that I also have been having some tooth pain. The doctor freezes with a thinky face and says to get my teeth checked and to come back in a week. We ask if he has any suggestions on dentists. He says NOPE! and leaves. We head to checkout and while waiting for them to process my stuff, the doctor stops by checkout also and I’m like Hey. He nods and heads out. We spent a total of like... 4 hours there. Total. For the ECG, the bloodwork, etc.

Go home, take the meds, try to take care of my teeth, get Listerine. Sit around and try to take it easy for a week. We go back, the burning is gone and my teeth have overcome their problem. Doc asks if I’m okay now, I say yeah, seem to be, but now I have random pinchy pains. He says I should come back in a month. Husband and I can’t so the doctor is like Okay well, you’re fine, but if it gets bad again... Come back.

Due to my being broke, uninsured, and having a chronic illness, I do a lot of armchair doctoring on myself. There’s a limit to it, of course, but I try to research my own health issues or treatments after visiting a doctor. I found so much more information on PCOS on sites like fucking Reddit than by going to a doctor for years. So after the doctor told me I was okay, I looked up why I might have chest pain if it wasn’t related to a heart attack or something. And one of the options was a pulled muscle.

I thought back to the week before the chest pain started. Other than the toothache and swollen gums, I had been doing a bunch of exercise. I did a bunch of Ringfit and hip lifts and situps and stuff. And I was like Hm. Did I injure my chest muscle overdoing the Ringfit?

I, of course, informed the parents of all of this. My husband’s mother was informed and I was worried she would be deeply upset because she lost her husband to heart problems. But then both parents were like “You went to the doctor? You have medications? Well you seem to have it under control, so let’s bitch about my problems.” Meanwhile, I’m over here having trouble sleeping because I’m worried I won’t wake up. But okay. When my husband went back to work, I Skype’d with my mother and she seemed more irritated that I had interrupted her evening than happy to talk to me or worried about my Chest Pain. Also my dad has to get up at like 3am, so when I called her, she was worried her getting loud and animated as we do was going to wake him up.

(husband’s mental health doctor struggles and a story about library card nonsense under the cut)

Husband has also been seeking professional help because he believes he has ADHD. He’s been having a lot of problems, mostly mentally and emotionally, and he traced all the issues he’s having to ADHD. So he went to an English-speaking psychiatrist for medication. The shrink said he wanted to treat the anxiety before the ADHD in case anxiety is the only issue. My husband, due to his job, is very good at asking questions, so he asked the doctor how many people he prescribes this medication to. And he said 100% of his patients. Well, the medication didn’t seem to help, so on the followup appointment, the doctor said Oh, you’re just taking too much. My husband was like It’s supposed to reduce my anxiety, but instead it’s making my anxiety worse, it’s giving me mood swings, and generally making me very angry. And also sex is more difficult. Doc said I’m gonna reduce the dosage because I can’t treat your ADHD without getting rid of the anxiety. Husband came out of the appointment angry and defeated. But now he’s taking less (and it might be helping?)

Soooo yeah. I try to brush my teeth at least once a day (up from the like once every 20 years I did it before) and I use the No alcohol Listerine in place of brushing sometimes because you can. I skimmed an article about how to take good care of your teeth and it said to not actually rinse when you brush and mouthwash in place of brushing sometimes. I drink almost exclusively soda so I try not to drink any for at least 30minutes after brushing or mouthwash.

We hung out with the friends a couple weeks ago and they said we should start up a new DnD campaign because one of our friends has a roommate in his small apartment and can’t rejoin the old one. The roommate is a friend displaced by a breakup, but he seems to have a new apartment and the moveout date keeps moving. Our DM is getting tired of it and one of our other friends wants in because he’s lonely and DnD is great, so he said we should start up a new campaign so he can join. So we’re setting up for that, just in case.

In order to work on my writing, I’ve skimmed a lot of tips articles after watching a bunch of YouTube lectures and videos. I kinda hate reading and I feel like a huge fraud because if I want to write, I should like to read. But I don’t want to risk buying books I don’t like and having piles of books on my Kindle that just rot. And also, you know, I’m broke. Why spend money on something I won’t get any enjoyment out of? Just a waste at that point. Coulda bought some McDonald’s with that money. Or something. So I thought about the library. I don’t have an active library card, but I knew my Dad had one, so I asked to use his to check out ebooks. He obliged and I started getting books that everybody recommends, like The Name of the Wind and Tales of Earthsea and all this other stuff. I also got Mistborn: The Final Empire and some other Sanderson books, and the Witcher series. But not every book was available at my library. I found an app that let me look at other libraries’ catalogs and I found the missing books at the library where my husband’s family and friends are. I asked our friends if they had a card among them, and the one guy that works at the library has one but his card is always maxed out for checkouts. As an employee, he can check out like  a max of 99 things. And it’s always maxed out. He offered me something I wasn’t comfortable with, so I declined. So I asked my husband to make a card. He declined. So I asked him to ask his mom to make one. She said she doesn’t live in the city, so she can’t. She sent us an email with my husband’s sister’s name for a library that I didn’t ask for and didn’t have the books I was looking for available. Because it uses a different service than the one I was looking at apparently so I could use that one but they didn’t send actual login information.

My husband, because of the way he communicates with his family, asked his mother for help with this library endeavor very cavalierly. He was just loosey-goosey with it. Something about it rubbed me the wrong way, but I figured they would handle it. His family intimidates me, has rarely made me feel welcome, and so I usually leave myself out of conversations with them. But after they just stopped worrying about the library thing, because I felt like I was right and all they had to do was make an effort, I took it upon myself to email his mom directly. Due to childhood trauma or other paranoia, I’m always worried about being misconstrued or misunderstood, so I end up being very verbose. See above. So I made a long email explaining why I wanted the library card, why I was asking for their help specifically, and included links to the places I saw you could make a library card and how they didn’t have to leave the house to verify it because of COVID. Then, to make sure it wasn’t demanding, that it was friendly, I added some stuff at the bottom about how I wished them well and I was proud of my sister-in-laws’s weight loss journey and how my chest was doing and blah blah. I sent this email right before bed. I assumed that his family would work together to figure it out and if they didn’t wanna deal with it, they would say they weren’t interested. The worst they can do is say no and I’ll have lost nothing except time.

Woke up to an email from his mother saying, in that malicious compliance/corporate politeness way, that she couldn’t make a library card because she didn’t live in the city and she’d be happy to make one for one of the cities that did work. Also, she hoped I was feeling better.

I had had a bad day prior. The day before, waking up had been near impossible, my husband ordered McDonald’s delivery for breakfast and I wasn’t hungry so we sat and watched an anime I didn’t want to watch while food sat getting cold in front of me. I ended up not being hungry for 8hrs. We were talking to the group about DnD, but also needed to shower, so while my husband got in the shower, I said some things to the group and then hopped in the shower. Upon telling my husband what I said, he had this look on his face like he was planning how to damage control what I had said, despite not even knowing what it was. My exhaustion had left me vulnerable, so I couldn’t deal with it and cried. He apologized and we talked about it. Bolstered by this conversation, I went on to boldly converse with other people, which is what allowed me to send that email to his mother in the first place. So upon her declaration that she couldn’t help me, I decided to help myself.

So I went through the process of making an account using my husband’s name for the library I wanted and it worked, I think. It’s not verified or maybe it’s not in the city, so I couldn’t check out an ebook. So I was back to square one. Not only back to square one, now I was doubly wrong. I had pursued this process in righteous indignation, after having directly contacted his mother, and been proven wrong. So now, not only was I dumb and wrong, I had put myself out there. I was wrong on stage.

My husband, wanting to help, went and acquired the one book I was using as my litmus for me. There are probably others I could look up, but at least I have that one and it’s sequel.

But yeah, that’s what’s going on with me.

[internetremix]

Question for the crew that plays DnD: How did you start playing DnD and do you have any advice how to start getting into DnD

Uprising: Started playing DND with my good friend IRL and my brother with my DM being my friends brother and my first battle had a calculated 33.3% win rate lol, Don't Do That. DND is supposed to be fun so find someone who wants to tell a story/be a DM and that's a huge first step done lol. Honestly try your first campaign with a premade one if you don't feel ready to DM q full imagined campaign since those usually die pretty quickly since it takes a lot more work than you think it does. Also a huge piece of advice is don't be scared of RP. EMBRACE IT!!! Then others will too. Queen: When I had my first table at Comic Con, the people who were next to me (check them out @ Final Boss Fight) were promoting their own D&D shows and they asked me if I wanted to be a part of their campaign. I'd seen a bit of D&D through Underdark at the time so I agreed, and never looked back :D One of the things that really got me hooked on the storytelling side of D&D was Critical Role. It's a big series to follow, but there's a load of clips online that were really inspiring (especially the ending of Vox Machina, that's a rollercoaster of emotions). So I suggest watching that for inspiration. As for playing the game, find some friends who are interested as well. The more you have, the more opportunity for games you're open to. And yeah what Uprising said, the whole point of the game is to tell a story, so don't be afraid to act your heart out. Uprising: Another series to listen to for inspiration is The Adventure Zone: Balance (or any of the other adventure zones but balance was the og and I was a listener since the second arc so its that nostalgic shit) for storytelling and foreshadowing and stuff. Alex: I started with 4th edition because I saw ads in the back of Gamepro saying stuff like "WE INVENTED BOSS MONSTERS" and by the time I was interested enough to check it out 4e had come out and it was A Thing that people are still rustled about. Besides Uprising's solid advice about YOU'RE THERE TO HAVE FUN AND TELL A STORY NOT KILL EVERY CHARACTER RIGHT OFF THE BAT - not every group is created equal. There are some that just won't click for you. I've been in my share of bad groups before but no D&D is better than bad D&D. The entire purpose of getting together is to have fun. The beauty of it being a group of people is that you can talk to the DM or other players and try to work out stuff that isn't working, but at the end of the day, if nothing works, no D&D is better than bad D&D - there's no shortage of other groups that will click better with you! Ann: I got pulled in by a friend who was running Curse of Strahd before I started college, which had a D&D club that I was a part of the entire time I was there. To anyone who wants to start, I say go for it. Find some friends who would want to play and get a campaign started. Don't worry about having the best character. The best part about D&D (and really any TTRPG) is the versatility of what your character is like. Embrace the crazy ideas you may have and have fun. Think outside the box at times. Roleplaying and improv will become a lot more fun and you'll have a lot of memories of the crazy moments that happen. Also DON'T BE AFRAID TO COMMUNICATE TO YOUR DM IF YOU HAVE AN IDEA FOR YOUR CHARACTER. The DM may be the one in charge of running the campaign but everyone involved is important and should be heard to have their moments to shine. Adric: I started by just going to a local game shop and asking to join a game. For how to start, right at this exact moment my advice isn't as useful, but my normal advice is just, see if you have a local comic/game shop, find out when they play D&D, and see if they have open spots/when they will. Most groups are super chill about it and like helping new people join.

[acanvasofabillionsuns]

Just Get Together Already

for @raaindropps happy birthday amor!!!

thank you to @main-chive and @an-absolute-failure for beta-ing!!

Summary: Janus and Roman are #dense. Everyone and their boyfriend is tired of this. Warnings: a couple death threats (in the vein of “i’m mildly upset with you but i’m not going to actually do anything”) Wordcount: 3257

“Amor, I hate to ask, but… are you cheating on me?”

“No! I would never!”

His reply comes a little quickly, however, and Rose narrows her eyes suspiciously. “So I have no need to fight anyone for your hand?”

“I will fight you!” Someone leaps out from around the corner and both of them gasp at the newcomer. They’re wearing a domino mask, obscuring their identity until they declare, “It is I! Janice! I have come to win Vincent’s heart!”

“Then fight me!” Rose responds, drawing her sword, and Janice mirrors her. They both crouch, each watching for the slightest twitch that will give away the other’s attack. At the same time, they lunge towards each other, sword meeting sword and steel clashing together.

“And now I’m too lazy and also it sounds really tedious to make you take turns stabbing at each other, so we’ll just have you both roll and whoever gets higher wins the sword fight. Sound good?”

“But where’s the drama in that? The tension of their rivalry? The excitement of forcing one to yield?” Roman laments, then gasps. “Do we not even get to see who draws first blood?”

“Janice leaves her side undefended for a split second too long and Rose manages to nick her arm,” Remy deadpans. “Happy?”

“I suppose,” Roman groans.

“If you don’t think you’re good enough to beat me in a single roll…” Janus trails off, raising an eyebrow.

“Ha!” Roman scoffs. “Grab your dice, loser, I’ve got a +5 to dexterity and I am not going to concede victory to someone with a 0 modifier.” He pauses, looking over to Remy. “This is a dexterity roll, right?”

“Yeah, sure.” Remy waves nis hand. Roman and Janus both roll, Roman so dramatically that his die falls off the table and he has to search the floor.

“Haha! 12 plus 5 equals 17!” Roman cheers, picking up the die, at the same time Janus calls out, “17.”

“What?” Roman asks. “No it’s not. Let me see.” He peers over at their die. “Huh. It’s a tie.” He looks up at Remy. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Virgil interjects, “that right as one of you is about to force the other to yield, Vincent cries out, ‘Wait!’ and runs between you.

“‘There is no need to fight for my hand when I have two,’ he says. ‘I can simply date both of you; it shouldn’t come to this. What do you say?’”

“Rose instinctively scoffs at the offer. Share Vincent? With Janice? Inconceivable!” Janus levels Roman a Look, and he continues hastily, “But when she sees that her close-mindedness would lose her her love, she acquiesces.”

“Janice accepts the offer at once, happy to stay with her lover and have a solution that works out for all of them.”

“And so the three of them—I don’t know, cuddle or something—and live happily ever after until the next adventure.” Remy concludes.

“Now that this plot is resolved, can we fight some dragons or something?” Roman asks eagerly.

“Yeah!” Virgil seconds. “This is DnD, not some reality TV drama; the relationship stuff is interesting enough, but it doesn’t really scream adventure.”

“Look, girls, I’m DMing the best I can, okay? If you don’t like it find someone else to deal with the three of you,” Remy tells them. “I promise next time it’ll be more exciting or whatever, but figuring out the relationship stuff is necessary.” Ne shrugs. “If that doesn’t ‘scream adventure’ to you then congratulations, the boring part’s over.”

“It’s not boring,” Virgil protests.

Remy stands up. “Whatever, doll. I’m gonna go get more Starbies.” Ne leaves.

Virgil slumps back in his chair. “I pissed nym off, didn’t I?”

“It was a group effort,” Roman offers.

“Ne’ll get over it; give nym some time to cool down and then say you like nis DMing and it’ll be fine,” Janus says.

“Alright.” Virgil nods. “Thanks.”

“No problem, dear.”

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

roman lettuce: you gays wanna go to the mall later?

too tired for this: sure

mr. snekman: sure

and suddenly: sure

roman lettuce: ew who said you could come

and suddenly: you asked the whole chat

roman lettuce: so?????

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

“I still don’t see why he has to come,” Roman sighs.

“Because he’s my friend, and Janus’s friend, and you did ask the whole chat,” Virgil points out. “He wanted to come; just because you’re his brother doesn’t mean you get to ban him from hanging out with us.”

“But I’m your boyfriend,” Roman tries. “Surely that counts for something?”

Virgil hums consideringly, looking him up and down. “You aren’t that pretty.”

“Hey!”

Virgil snickers, bumping their shoulders. “Relax, I’m kidding.”

Roman huffs, brushing imaginary wrinkles out of his shirt. “I know,” he mumbles.

“Princey, seriously, I was joking. You’re gorgeous.”

“Princey?” Roman echoes. “That’s a new one.”

“Yeah, because you’re my Prince Charming.” Roman’s face flames at that, and Virgil smirks.

“Now, do you want to keep complaining about your brother being here when you really don’t mind that much, or do you want to accompany me to Claire’s so we can pretend you dragged me there and I can get new nail polish while maintaining my image?”

“Oooh, I wanna see if they have any new sparkly ones!” Roman says excitedly, then pauses. “Promise not to complain if I take a while looking at earrings and stuff?”

“Maximum of twice, and purely to keep up edgy appearances,” Virgil promises.

“Good enough! Onward!” Roman grabs his hand and drags him through the mall.

It’s half an hour later when they’re leaving Claire’s that either of them think to ask where the other half of their group went.

“Welllll, Remus will probably have dragged Janus to Spencer’s—” Roman starts.

“Right, and Janus will say they went along so they wouldn’t be alone but mostly went to look around, too—”

“—but by now they’ll be done looking and maybe have bought something, so probably best to not look there—”

“—and Janus will probably insist they need food if they’re going to deal with Remus any longer, plus they’re probably wondering where we are too, and they know how much I love snacking while wandering around the mall, so they probably dragged Remus to the food court to eat and also wait for us to show up.” Virgil concludes.

“Brilliant as always, amor,” Roman says, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

Virgil flushes a little. “You too.”

“And so eloquent!” Roman teases. Virgil elbows him.

“Let’s just go find the others.”

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

“So,” Remus stretches the word out until he’s completely out of breath.

Janus rolls their eyes. “Yes?”

“You wanna help me see how many fries I can shove in my mouth before I choke on them?” Remus wiggles his eyebrows.

“No,” Janus deadpans, wondering if it’s too soon to roll their eyes again. Is there a specific amount of time that needs to elapse between eyerolls? Not important.

“Okay!” Remus says, dropping the topic much too quickly. Janus squints at him. “Let’s talk about Roman, then.”

Janus squints harder. “What about Roman?”

“How you want to date him.” And there it is.

“Let’s go back to the fry thing,” Janus tries. Remus cackles.

“Nope!”

Janus sighs. “Fine. Why do you think I want to date Roman?” 

“Please, I’ve seen the way you look at him. And the way he looks at you! You two should get over yourselves and just kiss already.”

Janus ignores most of what Remus said to ask, “What about Virgil?”

“He’s dating both of you! He’s not going to care.”

“This is Virgil we’re talking about; he’d probably think we were leaving him for each other,” Janus points out.

“Yeahhh,” Remus agrees. “Hm.”

“And speaking of Virgil, just because Roman’s willing to be metamours with me doesn’t mean he wants to date me,” Janus tells him.

Remus sighs. “But he does want to date you.”

“Who wants to date Janus?” Roman interjects, he and Virgil walking over to them.

“Me,” Virgil says, sliding into the booth next to them and squeezing their hand, smiling at them.

“An idiot,” Remus says, grinning sharply at Roman. “Not that you’re an idiot, V, or that anyone wanting to date you is an idiot for it, JanJan.”

Virgil sighs lowly. “Thanks, Rem.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hey! Do you guys want to see how many fries I can fit into my mouth before I choke on them?”

“Why?” Roman groans. Virgil simply scrunches up his face.

Remus sighs. “You’re all so boring.”

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

“So. Roman.” Patton perches on Roman’s bed and smiles widely at him. He doesn’t say anything else.

“So?” Roman echoes after a moment.

“You and Remus went to the mall today?” Patton asks. “With Virgil and Janus?”

“Yeah?” Roman asks. They’d told Patton that when they left, why is he asking when he already knows that? And, “What’s with the emphasis on Janus’s name?” Patton smiles cryptically.

“Get anything new?”

“I got some nail polish?” Roman offers. “Matte pastel blue.” Patton’s eyes widen with interest, but it doesn’t seem like that’s the answer he’s looking for.

“Anything else?” At Roman’s bewildered, get-to-your-point look, he adds, “Liiiiiiike a datemate, maybe?”

Roman blushes bright red. “No! Janus doesn’t like me like that.” Patton sighs. “No, don’t sigh at me like that, they don’t!”

“If you say so,” Patton singsongs.

“I do say so,” Roman says, a little disgruntled by how clearly Patton doesn’t believe him. “They’ve given zero indication that they like me, and I don’t even know if they’re poly or not! And even if they are poly, why would they like me? Just because we’re both dating Virgil doesn’t mean they’re interested in me too.”

“Ignoring the many indications that they like you that you’re just too oblivious to notice, they would like you because you’re pretty, and kind, and a good person, and you try your best and don’t give up, and you’re always unapologetically yourself, which is really admirable, and you’re amazing.”

Roman, embarrassed from such praise, skips over genuinely reacting to it to gasp dramatically. “Patton! You’re my brother! You’re not supposed to like me.”

“So you know you’re getting a critical, objective opinion when I say all this,” Patton grins.

“Doesn’t it being an opinion mean that it can’t be objective?” Roman asks.

“Irrelevant!”

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

i’m the brother of an idiot: I’m going to go insane :)

i’m dating two idiots: elaborate??

i’m the brother of an idiot: Direct quote from Roman about Janus “they’ve given 0 indication they like me” yes they have???

i’m dating two idiots: ah

i’m dating two idiots: understandable, have a nice day

i’m the brother of an idiot: Thank u

im the twin of an idiot: can i pls just lokc them in a closet oh my god

i’m dating two idiots: u know what

i’m dating two idiots: lemme do my plan

i’m dating two idiots: and if that doesn’t work go wild

im the twin of an idiot: alright fine

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

“Aw, yeah, date night with the homies.” Virgil flops onto the couch in between Roman and Janus. “What movie are we watching?”

“Before the two of you say anything,” Roman starts, and Janus groans. “Before the two of you say anything, just hear me out.”

“Must we?” Janus asks.

“Unfortunately,” Virgil teases.

“You both may be wondering, ‘Roman, haven’t you watched this movie enough times to have memorized the script? When will it be enough?’ And to that I reply that there are never enough times you can watch Tangled.”

“Didn’t we watch that last movie night?” Janus asks.

“I refer you to ‘there are never enough times you can watch Tangled,’” Roman declares, and Janus sighs.

“At least you have the taste to pick a good movie to watch a million times.”

Roman doesn’t dignify that with a response, clicking play and settling in.

After Tangled, they watched Treasure Planet (or, well, half of it. They paused it in the middle to make a blanket fort and never got around to unpausing it).

“Roman. I love you.”

“I love you too!” Roman adds quickly. Virgil raises his hand.

“But I am going to kill you.”

“Corazón,” Roman tries. “Light of my life.” Virgil shakes his head.

“You looked me directly in the eyes and put that +4 wild down, Roman; you asked for this.” Roman sighs.

“I accept my fate.”

“Good.” Virgil leans over and kisses him, booping Roman’s nose as he pulls away. “Boop. You’re dead.”

“Alas!” Roman cries, dramatically falling back onto the floor and sticking his tongue out. He stays there while Virgil and Janus take their turns, then picks up his cards “stealthily” and cracks an eye open. “Uno,” he declares, putting a card on the pile, before dropping his cards and going back to being “dead.”

Virgil frowns at his cards, draws one, sighs and places it on the pile, then stands up. “I gotta go to the bathroom, be right back. You guys can play without me.”

“Alright,” Janus says.

Virgil hopes it’s not blatantly obvious that he’s leaving to try and get the two of them together. Virgil’s UNO deck has some of the write-in cards, and he’d taken that opportunity to create a card that said “Kiss one of the other players or draw 25.” And if he’d used his ability to count cards to make sure that Roman would get that one, knowing that Roman is fiercely competitive and hates losing, then, well, it was his and Janus’s fault for being so dense that he had to resort to this to try and get them to admit they like each other.

He just hopes Janus—who helped him learn to count cards in the first place—doesn’t put two and two together and realize what Virgil’d done. Or at least if they do, then they don’t ruin the plan.

He loiters in the bathroom for a couple minutes, eventually flushing the toilet, running the sink for a minute, and heading back out.

Roman’s holding a bunch of cards. Seriously? They didn’t even have to kiss on the lips; the card hadn’t specified. He could’ve kissed Janus’s cheek and called it good!

“Did you guys start another round without me?” Virgil asks, hoping his first instinct is wrong.

“No,” Roman says, smiling sheepishly. “I got a card that says I had to kiss another player or draw 25 cards, and you weren’t here, so…”

Virgil resists the urge to sigh loudly.

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

i’m dating two idiots: @i’m the twin of an idiot alright

im the twin of an idiot: LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

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

“Remus!” Roman shouts, pounding on the door. “Let us out of here!” His only response is a cackling laugh. “Remus!”

He tries the knob, hoping it might be unlocked. No dice.

“Do keep banging on the door,” Janus snarks. “That’ll totally get us out.”

“You have a better plan?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. We text our friends and get one of them to come get us out of here.”

“Oh. Huh. That’s actually really smart.”

“Why, thank you.” Janus rolls their eyes.

“I didn’t mean it like you’re not usually smart!” Roman corrects quickly. “I just would never have thought of that.”

“Well, hopefully you thought to bring your phone in here?” Janus asks, a little sheepishly. “I left mine in my jacket pocket.”

Roman rolls his eyes and pulls out his phone.

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

rom(an)eo: hey

rom(an)eo: remus locked me and janus in a closet

rom(an)eo: pls come get us out?

have a patton the back: Well,,,, I would,,,,, if this didn’t sound like a really great opportunity for you to finally confess to Janus,,,,,,,,

rom(an)eo: patton

have a patton the back: :)

rom(an)eo: patton cmon please

have a patton the back: :)

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

rom(an)eo: amor remus locked both your loves in a closet pls come get us out??

like my soul: I’m driving right now and can’t respond further. I’ll see your message when I get where I’m going

like my soul: (I’m not receiving notifications. If this is urgent, reply “urgent” to send a notification through with your original message.)

rom(an)eo: darn

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

rom(an)eo: remy can you come get me and janus we’re locked in a closet?

excuse you: o tea??

rom(an)eo: no

rom(an)eo: no tea

rom(an)eo: just come help us

excuse you: idk babes

excuse you: first u don’t sound v sure of whether you’re locked in a closet or not

excuse you: now you’re denying me my lifeblood

excuse you: idk where all this attitude is coming from but it has Got To Go

rom(an)eo: wait remy please??

rom(an)eo: remy??

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

Roman sighs. “Our friends are all useless.”

“All of them?”

“Yeah; Remus is the one who locked us in here in the first place and Remy is more interested in the drama of it then coming and helping us,” Roman tells them. “I texted Virgil but he’s driving.”

“Emile?” Janus suggests.

“I don’t have faer number, and I’m guessing you don’t know it well enough to call faer?” Janus shakes their head, and Roman frowns.

“Well, what about Patton?”

“He said—I mean,” Roman corrects quickly, “he’s not going to help.”

Janus frowns slightly. “What’d he say?”

“Nothing,” Roman tries, but Janus isn’t having it.

“Did you annoy him and now he’s refusing to help because he’s upset, or something?” Janus demands. “It can’t be that bad, just tell me what it is or make it up with Patton so he’ll get us out of here.”

“He’s not mad at me,” Roman mumbles.

“Then why isn’t he coming?”

“I…” Roman pulls up his conversation with Patton and shoves his phone at Janus, hoping they’ll understand and he won’t have to say anything.

Instead, because the universe hates him, they look over at him confusedly. “‘Confess’?”

“Yeah…”

“What does Patton want you to confess to me?” Roman is going to kill Remus once he gets out of here.

“I like you,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut.

There’s a few agonizing moments of silence before Janus whispers back, “Me too.”

Roman lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, eyes popping open to scrutinize Janus. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Janus tells him, smiling a little at him. He smiles back.

Then he breaks eye contact, looking over at the door, and tells them, “Great news! The door doesn’t open with a confession. Any other ideas?”

Janus snorts. “You could tell Patton we confessed and have him come get us?”

“Or,” Roman suggests, eyes lighting up with mischief, “counterpoint: we don’t tell him and pretend we still haven’t gotten together to spite him—wait. Are we dating now?”

“I mean, I’m down if you’re down.” They lift one shoulder in a half-shrug.

“I’m definitely down.”

“Then I guess we’re dating now,” Janus says, snaking their hand into his. Roman squeezes it, and Janus squeezes back.

“So. Spiting Patton?”

“Oh, definitely.”

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

“I can’t believe you got locked in a closet with him and you didn’t confess!” Patton complains. “I mean, I even brought it up! It can’t be that the idea never crossed you. And! This is literally the stuff of fanfiction and movies! It would’ve been perfect.”

“Maybe for you,” Roman points out, squashing down a smirk. “Can you imagine for me, though? I just got trapped in a tiny closet by my twin and all my friends refuse to help me. How is that romantic?”

“Still,” Patton pouts.

(Two weeks later, Patton walks in on Roman and Janus kissing and screams.)

[emmettspeakz]

Gotta Love DnD, Victor

Love Victor fanfic

Summary: It’s a week after Victor has come out to his family and a few friends, but they haven’t really acknowledged it one way or another. Desperate to help get his friend’s mind off of his family’s reaction (or lack of a reaction) to his coming out, Felix designs a DnD campaign that Victor, Bram, and Simon can play, with Felix as the DM. Fun and crazy stuff ensues. 

Hope y’all enjoy <3

“So how do we do this? All I got are dice.” Bram asks through Felix’s computer screen, holding lime-green crystal dice up to the camera. He and Simon are sitting on the couch in the middle of their apartment, with no space between them. Victor couldn’t help but feel like they were the perfect couple, and hoped that one day Benji and him could be the same way.

It was the weekend after Victor had come out to his family and they had started acting like he hadn’t said anything at all. Victor felt like right now that was for the best, as he didn’t really wanna talk about it anymore either. Things were weird with Mia and Lake, because although she had declared her love for Felix, Lake wasn’t talking to Victor at all, in solidarity and die-hard friendship fashion for Mia. Benji had sent him sweet text messages this week like “hang in there” or “hair looks great today bud” and that would help a bit, but also Victor couldn’t shake the feelings of regret and pain away. That’s how this weekend had happened. Felix had insisted they play DnD to get his mind off things. But because Victor and Felix couldn’t afford to go back to New York, they were somehow trying to do DnD through Skype. It wasn’t working all that well, but god damn it if Felix wasn’t gonna let Victor mope around his house anymore.

“It’s not that difficult now that you guys told me what classes you wanted to be. I think you all should give your characters names though. It’s not creative if you’re just Victor and Bram and Simon.”

Simon gave Felix a look through the webcam, raising his eyebrows.

“No offense.” Felix replied, awkwardly. Felix had moved all the newspapers his mother had collected into the supply closet to make room on the coffee table for DnD, but the closet had reached capacity and Victor worried it would comically burst open like their lives were a part of a cartoon.

“Nice to meet you two by the way. You guys...are—”

While Felix was talking, the couple maintained eye contact with him as Simon rested his head on Bram’s shoulder.

“Right, okay.”

“Felix! You know they’re boyfriends!” Victor called out, sounding more like his teasing self than he has all week.

“I still can’t believe that you never told me you went to New York! The Big Apple? Times Square? You know how much I love Broadway!”

“Well you guys will just have to come visit us again sometime.” Bram suggested, putting his arm around his boyfriend affectionately.

“Alright so let’s start.” Victor said, not wanting to be reminded of the trip that made him lie to his then-girlfriend.

“Okay, so Bram you’re a paladin—” Felix began before he was cut off.

“Paladin? I’m definitely not just brawns!” Bram protested.

“You picked your character!” Victor laughed.

“I know but I think I’m a bit more of a—”

“No, no, no, no. I sent you a character sheet, you filled it out and sent it back to me and then I added the modifiers and all the technical stuff and sent it back to you, so it’s finalized!” Felix said, all his words jumbled together in a long string, sounding hyperactive as usual. “Now,” Felix continued, grabbing a D20 die from on top of his brown coffee table. “Let’s do this.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. I don’t know much about DnD, but I do know that the DM can’t play too.” Victor said, grabbing Felix’s hand tightly.

“Oh c’mon, let me play Victor! I need this! I haven’t seen Lake in—”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t remind me. Just roll dice when you’re supposed to, DM Felix.”

“Fine, fine, fine, fine,” Felix said, moving a hand through his hair. “Let’s start with this.”

He had four plastic figures, three of them representing Bram, Simon, Victor, and then one representing a figure that Felix started to describe as the Demigorgon before Victor told him to pick something else ‘cause that was “too Stranger Things”.

“Wait, wait, wait. Which character am I again?” Simon interjected before playing had even begun.

“You’re the warlock, the one with a staff, represented by the purple figure on the table.” Felix explained briskly so they could move onto actual gameplay. Simon nodded in understanding and sat back on the couch, letting Felix do his thing.

“Anyway, this big—” Felix met Victor’s gaze “—monster straight out of the movie Alien—”

Victor couldn’t help but laugh, not about Felix’s uncreativeness or lack of forethought about monsters, but the fact that he was the only straight boy in this group and he happened to somehow be the nerdiest one of all four of them.

“You mean gay out of the movie alien?” Simon asked, thinking the same thing Victor was. Victor, Bram, and Simon burst into laughter and all Felix could do was bite his lip awkwardly at the joke.

“Okay so Boris the Brave, Seamus the Strong, and Vladimir the Valiant—”

“Wait, those are our names?” Bram asked, chuckling.

“You guys didn’t pick your names so I made something up on the spot. Now stop interrupting!”

Simon and Bram put their hands up defensively, almost at the same time and Victor chuckled at that. Watching them over the call, Victor was just in awe by them. He guessed that when you were in a relationship for 2+ years, you started acting like the other person. It was weirdly sweet and Victor couldn’t get enough of it. This was what it was supposed to be like to love someone like he did. Maybe one day him and Benji would be that close, would be so love that they were in total sync. It sucked that he was jealous of them, but he was.

“So you guys are traveling through this cave and this big monster thing that looks like it’s from Alien jumps out and lunges at you. Bram, your action.”

“Uh, can I throw Simon at it?”

“Hey!”

“You can if you’d like.” Felix responds. But Bram is shaking his head.

“Can I sing to it?” Victor jokes, smiling brighter than he has in days, his cheeks burning. And when Felix glares at him he simply responds, “What? Isn’t that all that Bards can do in battle?”

“Y’know what, roll for that.”

“For what?”

“Performance! C’mon, you know this! I went over it with you every single day this week during lunch!”

Victor chuckles as Felix puts his blue die into his hand. Victor gives it a good shake before he throws it onto the table.

“10.”

Fellix then takes his own die and rolls his own number.

“I got 15, so that did not hit. The Alien is still awake, and none of its stats have been altered.”

“Nice try Victor!” Simon said encouragingly, before turning to his boyfriend. “Maybe this is a job for a paladin?”

“Okay, I’ll try. Um, I’m going to attack the Alien with my sword.”

“Okay, roll for strength, then add your modifier from your character sheet.” Felix said.

Bram ironically cracked his knuckles before taking his die and rolling, which both Victor and Simon found amusing.

“Uh, 14. Plus my strength modifier which is +2.”

“Okay, you definitely hit it. Now roll for damage given.”

Bram looked blankly at Felix.

“Just, roll the die again to see how much damage you deal on the Alien.”

“Oh, gotcha.”

Bram rolls again.

“Uh, 9. Is that with the modifier still or no?”

“Not this time, but you’ve dealt 9d sword damage to the Alien, which means you’ve been spotted and Simon’s character can’t use his stealth to get away anymore.”

“What? We could’ve snuck around it?” Bram grumbled, throwing his hands up in the air.

“It’s an open-world kind of game, man. You gotta think outside of the box.” Felix replied pointedly. Bram sighed and handed the die to Simon, who chose to roll for dexterity, to run away from the alien.

“Isn’t Bram the athlete?” Victor teases him.

“Yeah! But you’re just gonna run away from the alien and leave us to die from it?”

“No! If this works, I’m gonna go find the next village and see if there’s anyone who can help us.”

“Alright, roll for that.” Felix says.

Simon shakes the die like Bram did, but with a bit more vigor and then throws it down on his coffee table.

“Uh…it’s a nat 20!” Simon cheers, but he looks nervous.

“I’m trusting you here!” Felix reminds him. “I can’t actually see your die, but you better be honest with me!”

“It’s a one.” Bram informs his DM, looking scared at what outcome this will yield as he grabs Simon’s arm and squeezes it tightly toward his body.

“Bram!”

“Simon, they’re our friends! We can’t lie to them!”

“Fine,” Simon grumbles. “I just hope we’re not screwed now.”

“So Simon, since you got rolled a 1, you’re getting the energy to run away and then slip and fall and yell, ‘fuck!’ just as loudly as you can, so now the Alien has turned on you.”

“Oh shit!” Simon yells, almost proving Felix’s point.

It takes a little while before anyone knows what to do to stop the monster, and since it’s the afternoon and the boys haven’t eaten anything, they take a break for some pizza delivery before going back to the game.

“I’m gonna try to hit it again.” Bram says when they sit back down to it. It’s been hours since they started the game and all they’ve done is fight this one monster, but Victor doesn’t care. He hasn’t thought a bit about what going back to his house is gonna be like and frankly he doesn’t care. He’s enjoying this nerdy time with his friends and wish it could never stop.

“Roll for strength.”

Bram does.

“Ugh, 3!”

“Is that with or without the modifier?” Felix asks. Luckily it’s without.

“So 5? That does not hit. Now you’ve made the Alien all angry though.”

“Ugh, what now?”

“Victor, your turn again.” Felix tells him, handing him his blue die. “What’s your action?”

“I’m gonna see if maybe I can appeal to a nearby animal for help.” Victor says, sounding just like a bard. Felix can’t help but laugh, but it’s a sound strategy, as nothing else has worked out for them yet.

“Roll for performance.” Felix says.

Victor shakes the die and then drops it onto the table. It moves around and around like a spinning top. It’s moving so fast, but at one point it looks like it’s gonna be a nat 20 before it tips the opposite direction. Victor sighs in disappointment before he realizes it has landed on 18.

“What, no way!” Victor cries out, holding his hands up high towards the ceiling. “That’s a nat 20 right?”

“Well, it is a 20, but not a natural 20. You definitely got some animal’s attention. A wolf-bat hybrid creature comes out of its den in the cave and you ask it to help you and your friends get out of the cave. And it’s happy you asked it for help, so it starts leading you out of the cave and away from the alien. Just then—”

“What? Just then, nothing. I rolled a 20, you can’t have something happen to us now!” Victor cries out.

“It’s my game, I can do whatever I want.” Felix replies his voice light and teasing.

“There’s a sudden earthquake and huge rocks start falling down upon all of you. All of you roll for dexterity to get out of the way of the falling rocks and catch up with the wolf-bat hybrid to get to safety.”

Simon rolls, then Bram and Victor roll simultaneously. Simon rolls a 7, Bram a 13, and Victor gets an 11.

“Since Bram made it above 12, he has to help Simon out of the cave after he gets hit on the back of the head once with a rock. Victor leads the group to safety with the help of the wolf-bat hybrid and it’s on to the next village. End of game 1.”

“Wow! What an awesome game Felix!” Bram remarks.

“This was really fun you guys,” Simon agrees, speaking into the webcam as if he was meeting Felix and Victor’s gazes directly. “Hopefully we can do it again next time when we’re in Atlanta.”

“Wait, you mean, you guys are coming to visit US?” Victor asks, incredulous. He can’t believe his ears.

“Yeah, you came to visit us, it’s only fair we do the same thing. Besides, Bram wants to get some pointers from the coach about how to coach middle school kids.”

“Might wanna choose a different gym teacher to learn from,” Felix tells him, smiling.

“Whatever, we wanna see you guys, and introduce you to our friends Leah and Abby too. We’re all coming back for a homecoming type thing, even our friend Nick is gonna be there. It’s not for at least a month, but we’ll be up there soon, I promise. And as always, we’re here if you need anything, Victor.”

“Thanks you guys. I can’t wait to see you guys in person again.” Victor says, and he’s definitely gushing. They used to be strangers to him, but now he can’t imagine life without their support. They’re like his fairy gay fathers or something. Victor laughs at that prospect, but it’s an accurate name for them.

“Nice meeting you Felix! Great game! Talk to you guys soon!” Bram says, and the call goes out.

“They’re really great.” Felix says, almost absentmindedly.

“Yeah,” Victor says, fully registering how he feels towards all the new friends he’s made in the last few weeks, and a warm, welcoming feeling filling up his stomach, almost like the butterflies that welled up in his chest when he kissed Benji. Only this was different. This was purely platonic. Victor’s family life might not be what he’d like it to be right now, but his social life was better than it ever was in Texas. What’s more, he was finally living his true life, his gay self, and he felt better than he had in days.

“Yeah, they’re pretty great.”

[creativeskullcreations]

Chapter 10: A Real Guilty Feeling

Hey everybody, here's chapter 10! But, unfortunately, it'll be the last chapter you see for a while. I need to take a break from writing for a while, do something else and recharge a bit. Maybe also knock out some drawings too while I'm at it.

Current timeline is looking like this: Couple of weeks without writing, and then maybe build up a bit of a buffer of chapters for <i>Outside</i>. But first, I'll be working on episode 2 of <i>Happy Times at Handeemen HQ</i>. Y'all are starting to show an interest in that, and I wanna put something new out for it.

If you want to keep updated, or even just see what I'm drawing, you can follow my art Tumblr here. Also check out my YouTube, in case of livestreams or speedpaints!(Am I plugging my own stuff too much?)

Whenever I'm ready to start posting again, I'll make sure to leave an announcement on here.

I'll see y'all later.

When Will got home, he dumped Stacy's stuff and scout on the couch. He then pointed out his locked workroom, and told her that she was never to go in there no matter what. That done, he left her to her own devices, and went off to bed. He took off his shirt and jeans, then crawled under the sheets. The last thing he did before passing out was shoot off a message to the group chat about how DnD Night was canceled until further notice.

When he woke up, far too few hours later, it was to a light weight on his chest. He stared at Scout for a moment, then picked her up and dropped her on the floor, rolling onto his front. He grabbed his phone, squinting at the too bright screen. Several messages were in the chat, and he sighed as he opened it up and scrolled to the top.

Masonary: um, excuse me?! i asked for that day off u can't cancel!!! somebody better be dead! D:<

Blooming_Stitches: Mason, shut up. We don't know what could be going on.

drWEED420: ugh, stacy. I told you to call me.

Masonary: y would stacy need to call u sam?

Masonary: is it because she hacked ur account and changed ur name again?

 drWEED420 has changed their name to DrSamIAm

DrSamIAm: no but it is something we'll going to talk abaout.

Will_and_a_Way: Stace is in the hospital for infected surgery stitches

Blooming_Stitches: I'M SORRY WHAT

Masonry: dude i was joking about som1 being dead

DrSamIAm: goddamit stacy

 DrSamIAm has left the chat We're ALL Idiots Here

Masonry: ok first of all what happened to stacy

Masonry: second who changed the chat name again?

Blooming_Stitches: lol

Will sighed, the went into his phone and pulled up his drop box, where he'd sneaked the file into a while ago. He hesitated briefly, then sent it to the chat. Stacy could be mad at him later, but he was too tired to think up a cover story for her right now.

 Will_and_a_Way posted a file in We're ALL Idiots Here

Masonry: ?

Blooming_Stitches: !

Will_and_a_Way: read that if you guys want to know what happned.

Will_and_a_Way: I'm going back to sleep now try not to kill each other

He clicked his phone off, dropping it to his mattress and letting his head fall on his pillow. Within seconds he was back asleep, completely oblivious to Scout Jumping back on his bed and climbing onto his back. She curled around the small Kirby toy, using it as a pillow as she settled back into sleep herself.

()()()

When Will woke up again, it was to a light weight in the center of his back, right below his shoulder blades. He huffed, glaring at the wall. He took a deep breath, then heaved himself up with all his strength. As predicted, Scout was catapulted off, and he quickly got out of bed, heading to the kitchen.

He made himself some toast, checking his phone on the way. The group chat was mostly just full of the various reactions from Lisa and Mason. Sammy had come back at some point, going on a rant about what Stacy hadn't told him.

He read over the various comments as he  ate, able to tell where they were in the document. Unsurprisingly, Mason finished it first, and Lisa was intent on meeting Scout. Sammy had told her Scout was nothing special, which Will privately agreed with. He finished the back reading and, seeing as nobody was online at the moment, locked his phone again. He picked up his toast and moved into his work room for the time being, deciding to get something done.

It was easy, really, for Will to get lost in his work. Dissecting the "toys" he brought home, taking them apart and recording it in his notes. He was currently working on the body of the head he'd been looking at last night. The brown, fuzzy thing was strapped securely onto the table, the front having been sawed apart and spread open.

He shifted through the innards, making careful, detailed notes about what was in there. He would compare them to the stolen blueprints later, figure out what was supposed to be in there and what wasn't. For now, though, the intention was to make a catalogue of parts.

When his phone alarm finally went off, signalling it was lunch time, he straightened up with a sigh. He pulled off his rubber gloves and, making sure the straps on the table were tight, went out to the kitchen. He made himself a simple sandwich, eating it in the kitchen as he glanced through the group chat. Mason and Lisa were on and currently discussing things, but Sam hadn't been on again since his rant.

He lurked a bit longer after he finished his sandwich, then got up to go back to work. On the way through the living room, he paused when he saw Scout sitting on the couch. She was curled up in the corner, Kirby plush on her lap as she stared at it. Even as a Puppet, he recognized the look on her face as one Stacy had often worn in the first year after her mother had died.

'Why the hell do I feel so bad for that thing?' He sighed, rubbing at his face. Making a snap decision, he went over to his DVD shelf and pulled out The Iron Giant.  He turned on the TV and player, then loaded in the movie, skipping the previews. When he reached the main menu, he selected play and dropped the remote near Scout. He then left, heading back towards the basement and his work.

Scout watched go, staring silently after him as he once again disappeared behind the locked door. She didn't even try to follow him, instead settling in to watch the show he'd turned on. With any luck, it would be violent and/or funny enough to take her mind off of things.

()()()

'That is the saddest shit I have ever seen...' She sniffed, rubbing at her frustratingly dry eyes. 'I can't believe he let himself get blown up like that. What the fuck.' She rubbed at her eyes some more, then tried to figure out how to choose a different show. When she couldn't figure it out, she threw the remote down in frustration. 'Fuck it! Where's Will?'

She Jumped from the couch, heading over to the locked door. She peered in the crack between the door and the floor, but couldn't see anything. She could hear, however, and what she heard were power tools. The sound sent a shock through her system, dredging up unwanted memories of Riley's lab. She drew back, then jumped onto a nearby table when the noise stopped. Thinking quickly, she opened the drawer that was there and tried to pretend that she had been going through it.

Will came out of the room a minute later, wiping his hands with a dirty towel. He glared when he saw what she was "doing". "What the hell are you doing? Get out of there!" It wasn't quite yelling, but his voice was definitely louder than it needed to be. Scout suppressed her fear and scoffed.

"Fine. There wasn't anything but batteries in there anyways." She slammed the drawer closed, feeling a small, petty joy in how the contents rattled around when she did. She watched him cross to his bedroom and, when he'd closed his door, opened the drawer back up in order to snoop for real.

Batteries, keys, some weird plastic clips, and other odds and ends she didn't have words for had been organized neatly in the drawer. Working quickly, she shuffled everything around even more, then shoved a handful of what was sitting on the table into the drawer. She then closed it again and sat back as innocently as she could, tilting the shade of the lamp next to her. When Will came back out, now dressed in different clothes, he sighed and fixed the shade.

She watched as he gathered up a couple of things, then came over and grabbed up a set of keys she hadn't dumped into the drawer. There was a pause, or maybe more of a hesitation, and then he scooped her up and left the house, ignoring her protests.

"Hey! Hey lemme go! H-mmph?!" He easily covered her mouth with one hand as he locked the door. He made his way to his car, not letting her go into he'd climbed in and dumped her in the passenger seat. "What was that for?!"

"Okay, here's the deal." He told her, ignoring the question. "We're going to go see Stacy. To do that, we have to go through a whole hospital full of people. And you will be quiet and good the whole time, or you will be going out the nearest window."

"We're going to go see Stacy..." That was the one thing she had really comprehended. Her Host was alive, Scout knew she had to be. If she wasn't, then the Puppet wouldn't have long to-

It didn't matter. She didn't matter, not after what almost happened. Not after what she almost did, accidentally or not.

She was jolted out of her thoughts as Will started the car, realizing belatedly that he'd continued talking to her. She hoped he hadn't noticed she wasn't paying attention. Whatever he'd been doing behind that door, she did not want to become his next patient.

In the silence of the car ride, Scout easily lost herself in the thoughts swirling through her head. The most prominent were thoughts of guilt, knowing she was to blame for this and wondering where she had gone wrong. Maybe she hadn't tried as hard as she should've to subjugate her Host back in the Studio? Or maybe she shouldn't have stayed with her after they escaped. Maybe she should have left after making sure Stacy was okay.

'Maybe I should leave anyways.'

She missed it when Will parked, only noticing when he picked her up. She let herself stay limp, though not so much out of compliance than a desire to try and keep working on the plan that had come to mind.

Vaguely, she was aware of the clean white halls Will was taking her through, as well as a nauseating smell that reminded her of Riley. A few other unclaimed Hosts like Will, though wearing clothing that, again, reminded Scout of Riley. She watched  those ones carefully, just in case. She may not like Will, but Stacy did and she didn't want something to happen to him.

Will came up to a door, opening it and peeking inside. Scout tried to look, but could only see the very end of a weird looking bed. Whatever he saw he seemed to like, as he fully entered the room, kicking the door closed behind him and approaching the bed.

"Hey Stacy." He began quietly, and Scout felt her stuffing go cold at the sight of her Host in the bed. Her normally warm brown skin was several shades paler, and there were dark circles under her eyes. She was mostly upright, though leaning heavily against the pillows behind her. The scariest thing, though, were the several tubes connecting her to various machines by the bed.

Scout felt another cold rush of guilt when she saw how Stacy's eyes lit up when she spotted them. She waited for her to say something, anything, but the Host didn't speak, instead lifting her hands to use that weird hand language.

"She can't talk right now." Will translated. "She had to be intubated and her throat still hurts. But, for some reason, she's happy to see you." He sounded annoyed by that, and Scout couldn't help but be confused. Surely Stacy knew about what she did.

'Unless she doesn't.' The Puppet realized. 'She doesn't know shit about how it works. She had no idea what I almost did to her.' Somehow, that didn't make it any better.

Against her will, she was handed over to Stacy so Will could go set down the bags. Stacy hugged her tight, and Scout couldn't help but curl up in her hold, clutching at the weird shirt she was wearing.

She ignored the humans as they talked, or rather as Will talked and Stacy did one handed signing. Instead she stared at the tubing connected to Stacy's arm, watching the clear liquid slowly drip it's way into her body. She didn't know how long she stared for, but she must've dozed off at one point because she suddenly became aware of her hair being stroked.

It couldn't have been too long, as the room was still bright, though she couldn't hear Will anymore. Instead there was a quiet, steady beeping that matched up with Stacy's heartbeat. It was relaxing, and brought up memories of when Scout had first woken up, all those years ago. Before she'd been made to take part in Riley's "tests", or found that TV. Even before she'd met her siblings and learned who and what she really was. Those first few moments when it had just been her and Daisy, enjoying the gift of life.

She almost wished she could go back to that point. Things were so much better back then, when her world consisted of Daisy's sewing room and her siblings. When she didn't have a Host to worry about accidentally killing, or her own people coming after her.

But she wouldn't have to worry about that for long. If her plan ended up working, Stacy wouldn't be in danger ever again.

[southern-belle-outcasts]

4, 5, and 20 mun views

Mun Views 

4. On your fandom. 

Which one lmao....um, well X-Men? Cool, a lot of the fandom to some degree is drawn cuz they can relate be they part of some type of minority group. Don’t see too many assholes, I think most of the jerks that were on here fell off during nippocalypse. There is a divide with the comic elitists vs xmcu and it’s dumb. I used to be an xmcu blog cuz I WANTED to read the comics but I was a broke ass college student who had literally no access to that, but I’d seen Wolverine and the X-Men, plus the movies that were out at the time. If I’d let those asses run me off, well, wouldn’t have continued to build my comic book collection (I’d already read Batman, Superman, Spider-Man, I’m talking specifically X-Men comics).

Arrowverse? I don’t follow many of the blogs, I have a select few I follow. My fandom experience is pretty much my friends with fairly similar views so I can’t speak on the fandom outside of the fact there’s a loooot of veiled hating on women of color under the guise of griping with the crappy writing. I try to avoid it. I don’t hold with Iris and Cecile hate, they’re good characters subjected to the writing of white men, what do you want.

Star Wars? NOPE. Hell naw. No thank you. Bye. I have no interest. I make it very clear this is a “the prequels are the shit, TCW is a fucking joke and trashes the characters, not!Star Wars mouse sequels are non-existent, the og EU is not legends it’s the only recognized canon” blog, and I’m this unapologetically. I have extremely strong opinions, I’ve literally been in the fandom since I was 6, I’ve spent hours reading EU content, visual dictionaries and encyclopedias, concept art of the movies books, comics, novelizations, etc. If you’re a stan of the other...stuff, I’ll probably say shit that will offend you and it’s probably for the best you don’t follow me cuz I’m not censoring these opinions, ever, at all. And for the love of all things holy, if you want to call R*ylo okay, or Anidala toxic, we meeting up behind Denny’s, yo.

Supernatural? Kinda sorta, considering I don’t link Nil and Farrar to any of the show canon besides using some of the monster lore. Like we don’t do the appropriation of native spirituality on this blog, so there’s no use of W*nd*g* cuz you’re not supposed to write or say that, like no. I have major problems with the show, that’s a mile and a half long, past season 5 it went downhill, they really should have left Swan Song as the finale. The queer baiting and bury the gays, the trash trash trash finale, the way any poc and female characters are handled, there’s so much oof. I stay away from it. Honestly kind of nice to see the SPN crowd was mostly quiet, it was RAMPANT when I first got on here, and there was a looot of drama. The way the extreme crowd of the fandom conducts themselves with the actors and stuff tells you a lot. Another nope. I prefer to stick to fandomless urban fantasy.

5. On exclusivity. 

If that’s someone’s jam, that’s cool. Doesn’t bother me. At one point I was exclusive to a few versions of characters. Not anymore, but I can understand how sometimes someone just clicks for you to the extent it rubs you wrong seeing a different version. It doesn’t stop me from writing with other people so I literally give no fucks and don’t see why anyone else should either.

20. On 'popular' blogs. 

Here’s where I piss a lot of people off, and I don’t really fucking care, as having at one point been an even more actively sought out blog back when the MCU was taking off in 2012-2014 and having tons of asks and thread requests, I can more than speak on what it’s like being a popular blog.Technically still am, you don’t have to take my word for it, just look in my thread tracker, and that’s not even all the threads cuz some are in drafts cuz they’re starters and I can’t add yet.

There’s nothing wrong with people enjoying your writing and following you. Awesome, good for you. It often proves to be a lot for people and I don’t like when I see people biting off more than they can chew but still pushing for more followers and asks and threads. Frankly, it’s really, really rude. I get wanting to make people happy, or wanting to try new threads and stuff, but you should also be reasonable with how much you can manage. If I see someone complaining about having too many drafts and asks and then not being able to write because of the pressure, but then daily pushing their promo or their wire or memes...and nothings coming of it...and they’re admitting they can’t get their muse to reply...then STOP. “You don’t owe anyone anything” means you don’t owe anyone respect and obligations that aren’t due.

When you decide to join a collaborative writing hobby, you’re still committing to your partners to write to some degree. Now if that means you’re going to be slow, and super minimal with which followers you actually interact with THAT IS FINE...as long as you have that communicated and make it very clear to the people who follow you they’re probably just following to be lurkers. But I can’t get with constantly pulling for interaction then within the same day the whole inbox is being dumped, drafts are being dumped, the same three people are the only ones ever getting a reply for the past three months, etc.

There’s been times I’ve said I can’t plot right now, there’s been weeks I bump all the memes in my queue further down so that they don’t post so I can catch up. I’m so secure with partners I don’t follow back unless I get my rules code sent in (newsflash: 9/10 I never see it). I never post a promo. I really don’t need to, if I see someone I really want to interact with on my dash, I’ll follow first, but I can’t in good conscious promote myself when I’m at a decent spot keeping up with a LOT. Sometimes I’m really glad I’m a multi with OCS and mostly female muses, it helps avoid ever reaching the point where I’m just getting too many followers to keep up with, but giving yourself a cut-off isn’t a bad thing people. Trying to do too much is.

There, I have successfully pissed off a ton of people, but I’m not taking it back. There’s way too much immaturity on this matter on here, and it’s really a litmus test of the people who HAVE been in group hobbies that are interdependent of cooperation of all members offline, and those who haven’t. “It’s my hobby” isn’t this get of of jail free card you get to wave everywhere when you want to ignore people. You can’t pull that in most hobbies that involve more than one person, whatever it may be, if it’s a DND group, rec sports, chess, whatever. This is my hobby too. I just probably take hobbies and commitment to other people to a more...respectful level. If I have real life, or physical issues, of course that takes priority, but here’s a little secret...we ALL, like 99% of the community, have some degree of mental health, nuerodivergence, jobs, home life, chronic physical issues. I want you to single me out the mun that doesn’t have any of that impacting their writing capabilities to some degree. Please, find them for me. You having those things doesn’t make you special and if you can’t communicate that it’s too much, you need the “flood of follows” from your promo circulating but can’t ever write...I’m just sighing over here.

If any of these opinions rub you wrong, I don’t mind you just unfollowing,that’s fine. No one is forcing you to remain. I strongly believe the people that don’t want to remotely take it seriously, and the people that do take it more seriously, should just keep to themselves, that way no one is getting offended by the other for how they choose to enjoy their hobby. You should enjoy it, goddamnit!!! But NOT at the expense of stringing other people along. Communication is kind of essential here, as much as people want to go “I’m too shy, BLOCK”, but y’all I have ADHD, RSD, social anxiety (I used to live in an anxiety attack it was so bad), and I still do my best to communicate with people even on uncomfortable topics. If I can manage, so can you. And if you CAN’T be mature...and communicate...then mayhaps stick to fanfic until you learn how.