#companion piece with my last set basically

[rocktheholygrail]

2x07 || 2x08

[alpaca-clouds]

How redeeming Gortash would improve Karlach's story

I will admit, that the title is a bit overstated, because by the time you actually get to interact with Gortash, the plot just does not have enough time left to redeem him. Because other than what some folks in Hollywood think: No, giving a character one last minute "heel-face-turn" with one big symbolic act does not in fact redeem a character. Redemption is a process that takes time.

BG3 actually understands this, because Astarion's arc basically ends with: "You took the first steps towards redemption." Which is really good.

However: You could end the game at least in a way to set Gortash up for a possible redemption arc - and more importantly just... not have him die. Because actually that would improve Karlach's character arc.

I will get one thing out of the way first: The entire "Gortash redemption" idea is always contentious on the fact that he is a really bad guy. Like, he is bad. He brutally killed and tortured, he enslaved people, all of that.

I am an anarchist though. Hence, I do not really believe that punishment is in any way just. And to put it differently: Killing Gortash does not undo any of the harm he has caused. Not a single dead person will live through it, not a single tortured person will become untortured through it, and no slave is freed through it either (you kinda gotta say that as the player in a different mission).

And yes, I will say at this point that in general I was iffed by the fact that in many fights of the game I was not given a choice really. It was "either join the bad guys or kill them", and my "all charisma bard", who does not believe in killing for revenge, was like: "But... But..."

Like, my Tav was on board with killing Cazador (because literally in the situation it is "kill Cazador or have 7000 people die") and killing Ketheric (because he needed to die to end the curse), but he is already iffy on Orin (as she never had a choice but to be a killer) and definitely is not on board with killing Gortash (because there is no good reason to do it).

But let me talk about Karlach. Because the thing is... I have seen a lot of commentary on how Wyll is underwritten. And he is. But not as underwritten as Karlach. Like, her entire companion quest basically goes: "Kill some fake paladins, find Dammon, find two pieces of Infernal Iron, kill Gortash (which you have to do for plot reasons either way)". She doesn't really have a dungeon connected to her quest. Nor really an exclusive boss fight, because again: Gortash you kinda gotta fight for the story either way. Nothing really.

Every other character, too, also has to make one hard decision. Where they want one thing - but what is actually the good thing is something else. I wrote about this before, the "become what you hate" decision, basically.

Karlach doesn't. Sure, you could argue that the "die or go back to Avernus" decision is her big decision. But it feels very different than the decisions of the others.

Which brings me to Gortash and saving him.

Here is the thing: Logically speaking Gortash should probably be able to fix Karlach's engine. He understands infernal engines, as he built the Steel Watch around them. You can easily argue that yeah, he should be able to fix Karlach. And that... would actually make for a great decision for Karlach's story.

If I would get to fix Karlach's companion quest, I would probably do it like this: Put in some sort of dungeon where Dammon sends you in the hope that you can find some plans there, that might give him an understanding on how to fix the engine. Heck, if you do not wanna do a whole new dungeon, you could also just put some plans or whatever into the Steel Foundry.

The point is that it will then turn out that, yeah, even with those plans for some reason Gortash is the only one who could fix it. Putting Karlach into the spot to make this decision: Does she value her life more than her revenge on Gortash?

Because here is the thing: Gortash is supposed to be 1) the intelligent one of the dead three chosen, and 2) also clearly is the one who acts first and foremost in some sense for his own self-preservation. Which made me go like: "Nah, this does not make sense," when he decides to fight against me after his Steel Watch was disabled and I already killed the other two chosen.

So, yeah... You should get at least a chance to persuade him to just give up - or, going back to what I was talking about before - to save Karlach.

And again, I actually think that even for the Gortash part of the story it would make for more interesting storytelling. Killing him is not really that interesting.

Especially as, once again, killing him does not undo any of the harm he has caused. But given that he is this big egghead he could actually do something good if he got to live. And yeah, also there is the fact that... You know... Given what we know about his backstory, his actions are about as understandable as those of some of the companions.

Some of you might already know, I have written some fics dealing with the way how I would imagine something like this to go. Mainly Hurt begets Hurt (which is basically my Tav convincing Gortash to give up), An Impossible Future (Karlach inner turmoil after her engine is fixed) and Cheesy Noodles (Gortash being a big meany towards Tav, who is unphased by this).

I am right now writing a story featuring Astarion dealing with a very, very depressed Gortash.

[loviatarsluv]

Would That I

"It's not tonight

Where I'm set alight

And I blink in sight

of your blinding light"

(all credits to the op of this gif!!!!!)

pairing: Gale x f!tav (my own oc, Elara)

(takes place in an AU where the absolute and the cult basically don't exist so this is non-canon compliant, I guess)

rating: mature (mostly pretty tame, but gets a little spicy toward the end ;) )

CW: yearning and pining, mentions of family member death, an interrupted bath, gale being precious, tara being equally as precious, and last but not least, (m) masturbation (HEHEHE)

in summary: Elara has been sent to stay with Gale of Waterdeep whilst her uncle is gone, and becomes his assistant/apprentice of sorts, and in the meanwhile is crushing on him so hard that she can barely even stand being around him. (real asf honestly) little does she know, he is equally as besotted just slightly better at hiding it (or maybe she's just clueless) and ends up having to let out his feelings somehow … ;)

a/n: I've been wanting to write a sweet romantic gale fic that did not take place during the canon of the game and let gale have tara with him and be in waterdeep and all the other things he deserves so here it is!!! this will definitely be an ongoing series, i'm not sure how long but i love a good slow burn so we'll see :)

word count: 8.2k (I know this one's a long one buckle in besties)

She’s always loved the color brown. 

It was easily one of the most overlooked colors— one we so easily take for granted. Yet, some of the most lovely things in life appear in the warmest shades of brown. 

A cup of hot tea on a chilly day while the rain pours and patters against the windows. The leather bindings of her favorite book that brought her boundless comfort more times than any one person ever had, worn from the years of reading it and tucking it into her bag so that it was always at her side. The rough bark of the great oak tree near her home in Waterdeep— well, someone else’s home that she just so happened to occupy space in. 

She spends many mornings sitting on the roots of that tree, the large and weathered trunk shielding her from the harsh rays of the rising morning sun, either reading a book she nabbed from the library in her boss’ office or scribbling nonsense in her notebook. Occasionally her boss’ tressym companion, Tara,  joins her, sitting beside her and allowing the sun to warm just the back half of her, basking her fur and wings in a beautiful golden glow. There are brown spots on her fur. She’s lovely. 

The loveliest of things, though, were the things she tried with everything within her not to think about— like Gale Dekarios’ long chestnut brown hair, or the silver streaks that adorned the dark waves near the top of his head like it were a crown atop a prince’s, and the way he would tie it back into a messy half updo that perfectly accentuated his face and neck. The small pieces of hair that would fall into his eyes that she so desperately wanted to brush away. His perfectly groomed facial hair that had matching gray streaks and how he’d run his hands through the hair on his cheeks or rake his fingers through his hair when he was deep in thought. 

And his eyes— gods, his damned eyes. So warm and kind and full of a genuine sweetness that she’d never seen in another person’s eyes before. Eyes that seemed to read her so well despite not knowing her for very long, especially when she least wanted her pages to be turned. Eyes that really seemed to see her. Many had looked at her before— none had ever really seen her. Eyes that when in the right lighting, appeared golden, like the richest honey in all of Faerun. 

No, she certainly didn’t think about it. Not often, really. Only when his hands would brush against hers as he took the scroll from her hands that he’d asked her to fetch for him. Or when he would utter a groggy but kindhearted good morning to her as he ambled into the kitchen first thing in the morning, the first light of dawn breaking through the parted dark velvet curtains that drape over the large windows and beaming on him in just the right way to make him appear otherworldly. Or when she would fall asleep on the chaise in the study and wake to find a blanket draped over her body. 

Not often. Not really. 

She’d begun working for him (he loathed referring to what she did for him as working for him, and preferred words like ‘assist’ or ‘help’, he always said it made him sound like a tyrant) just around six months ago, him having taken her in somewhat as a favor to her uncle Alastor, who had been good friends with him for quite some time. She was never sure how their friendship came to be, but she never really asked. They were a strange pair in her opinion, her uncle being significantly older than Gale, who seemed to be somewhere around his early to mid thirties, based on her estimations. She was closer in age to Gale than Gale was to her uncle. 

Alastor essentially raised her, as her parents passed just before the nearing of her fifth birthday. He took her in with open arms, naturally— but in truth, she always knew that he’d never planned or intended to cater his life to caring for and raising a child. He was a rather adventurous and solitary wizard, and before he’d taken her in, he had been to the furthest edge of the Sword Coast and back several times over, even explored the vast expanse of the Underdark a handful of times. He told the best bedtime stories. 

As she got older, over time she noticed him get… strange. He was already a strange and rather eccentric man, but as the years passed he almost seemed to become a different person entirely. Still kind, still the same fun loving and gentle man he’d always been, just… lost, almost. He always seemed as if he were meant to be somewhere else, and had just taken a wrong turn and somehow ended up where he was. Like the clock was ticking and he was on track to be late for something, but she could never figure out what for. And in the months leading up to him sending her off to Waterdeep, he almost seemed to retreat into himself entirely, rarely leaving his chaotic and disordered sty of a study that she would often offer to clean and organize for him, only for him to wave her off and tell her not to worry. 

She always worried. How could she not? He was the only living family she had left. He was the only true friend she had in the world. 

On one particular night, the night he sent for Gale to come over under the guise of a friendly dinner, he seemed unusually ordinary. Normal. Almost as if he were his old self again. If it didn’t scare her so much, she would’ve been overjoyed to see the still eccentric, but wise and happy man that raised her once again. 

That was the first time she had ever truly met Gale Dekarios. 

She had seen him a handful of times before in passing, as her and her uncle would run into him at the infamous Sorcerous Sundries— but the two of them had never exchanged a word. He would offer both of them a bright and friendly smile, and she would return it in kind. 

Her eyes would follow him as he walked away, trailing behind him as if she were trapped under a spell, her neck craning and watching him over her shoulder as he would disappear into the crowded city streets of Baldur’s Gate. Her uncle would tease her, jabbing his elbow into her side and wiggling his eyebrows. She would smack his arm and try desperately to hide the furious crimson blush in her cheeks, waving him off and dismissing his teasing. But he knew. Anyone who could’ve seen the look on her face when Gale Dekarios was around would know. 

This was the night wherein she officially met him— the first time she ever heard her own name repeated back to her as she introduced herself, as if he were trying to memorize it and memorize her along with it. The way her name sounded so much more beautiful in his voice and the way his lips wrapped around every syllable as he said it. The first time she saw those eyes— those damn eyes— and they saw her back. 

She hoped that he didn’t find her terribly rude after the fourth time she had to excuse herself to run upstairs and calm herself and the incessant fluttering in her chest and stomach as she spoke to him. She felt like a schoolgirl with her first crush all over again. Pathetic. Besotted. 

By the time she came back downstairs, she caught the tail end of the two men’s conversation, ducking behind a wall and eavesdropping. 

“You would be doing not only me a great kindness but also my dear Elara. I fear you may be her safest bet, for the time being.” She overhears Alastor say, his voice low as if he were attempting to whisper, but still loud enough to where she could hear him as clearly as if he were right in front of her. 

“I understand. She is more than welcome to come to my tower in Waterdeep— though, forgive me for not asking before, but is she aware of this arrangement?” Gale asks, concern still evident even in his hushed tone. 

There’s that fluttering again. 

Her uncle sighs heavily, releasing all of the air from his lungs and pausing for a moment in shameful silence before continuing. She assumed he shook his head before speaking. “I knew that if I proposed this to her, she would have said no. I have it in good authority that she may perhaps be very unhappy with me when she learns of this.” 

Anger was not the emotion she was feeling, far from it. Concern, perhaps. Confusion? Definitely. Anxiety? Without a doubt. 

Her head was spinning as she tried to wrap her mind around what she was hearing— why was her uncle concerned for her safety? And why was Gale Dekarios the one who could ensure it? 

Before another word could be exchanged between the two men, she emerged from her hiding spot, her shoulders hung low and her movements slow as if she were trying to avoid landmines from going off under the weight of her feet. Their heads snap up in her direction, and immediately they catch on. Gale gives her a sympathetic look that she immediately has to avert her gaze from. Alastor bears the look of someone regretful, but not entirely. Hopeful, almost. 

“Elara,” He breathes. “Assuming you heard most, if not all, of our conversation, what are your thoughts?” The older man sitting at the far end of the dinner table asks, his tone simply inquisitive, versus that of someone who just got caught trying to pull a fast one. 

None, really. None that she could express eloquently or with any sort of grace and dignity, at least. 

“Where are you going?” She asks, her voice emotionless and calm in spite of the storm of emotion brewing within. 

Alastor gives her a pleading look, as if he was begging her not to ask a million questions like he knew she likely planned to. Only because he knew he had no answers that he could freely offer her that would suffice in easing your mind. 

“It won’t be for too terribly long. Though, in the meantime, perhaps Mr. Dekarios could pick up on your old man’s slack and actually teach you some damn magic.” The older man jokes, receiving no laughter in response. 

She and Gale exchange a glance, almost as if they were surveying each other. He seemed to be studying her facial expressions and attempting to gauge her feelings on this whole situation, and basing his responses on her. It made her cheeks burn so hot she feared that she may break into a sweat. 

She had heard of his magical prowess and acclaim in the wizarding world through the overheard hushed conversations of fellow wizards gossiping about him while she browsed Sorcerous Sundries. She had no doubt at all that he would be an excellent teacher— he just seemed like he would, even based on her limited interactions with him. So that was not something she was even slightly opposed to— if anything, it sparked a buried and long forgotten childish excitement in her. 

She’d been wanting to learn or study the arcane arts for years, but for some reason her uncle Alastor always had an excuse against it. She picked up on small things and simple incantations that helped her tidy the house better or even minor illusions just for her own entertainment, but she always wanted to learn more. 

That was far from being her main concern, her main concern being oh gods, how in the nine hells am I supposed to live with a man that I can’t even bare to be in the same room with for too long before needing to leave and calm myself so I don’t appear like a love stricken puppy under his gaze? 

Aside from that, her concern for her uncle had begun to set in as she really digested what was being proposed and why it seemed to be getting thrust upon her— where on all of Faerun could he be going that he couldn’t take her with him? That he didn’t want to take her with him? She had never adventured with him before, he never allowed it— but that didn’t mean she hadn’t wanted to or begged him to let her go with him just once. He said no, obviously. Every time. It never stopped her from trying, though. 

She knew her uncle well enough to know that whatever it was had to be quite important, if he were sending her off like this. She trusted him, more than anyone in the world. So who was she to argue? 

“Are you okay? With all of this?” Gale asked her, standing and crossing the room, approaching her tentatively but not coming too close. 

Okay was ill fitting to describe her feelings toward this situation, but there really wasn’t another word to replace it with. So she just nodded, not offering any more explanation as she was petrified of anything that might come out of her mouth at that moment. 

Gale continued to watch her, as if he were waiting for her to do something— burst into tears, shout, curse them both out, anything— only for her to stay planted in the spot she stood in the middle of what would only be her home for a handful of days more. The only home she ever truly knew. 

Gale and Alastor continued to discuss the details while she began tidying the mess that had made of the kitchen by the tornado of a man in the other room, and zoned out as she scrubbed the same spot on one of the dishes for what felt like hours, only returning to reality when she felt a warm and ridiculously soft hand very gently take the plate from hers. Her eyes shot up to meet his, his body dangerously close to her as he offered her a friendly smile. 

“Allow me. You should probably rest up as much as you can. You know— before the big move.” He offers, somehow managing to mash gentlemanliness and awkwardness together into one terribly endearing sentence. 

Gods, this is going to be rough. 

She stared up at him through round eyes, just now noticing the significant height difference between the two of them now that he was as close to her as he was. Yet another thing to add to the growing list of things she needed to not think about if she wanted to preserve the last few crumbles of her own sanity. 

She steps aside after a moment, not uttering a word to him but giving her best attempt at a thankful smile, then runs upstairs to her room and flops onto the comforts of her bed for what was one of the final times she would be able to for gods know how long. She savored the last few nights in the room that she’d spent her most formative years in. The room she dreamt in, cried in, discovered herself in, and fostered memories that she would eventually have to say goodbye to. 

Then the day she was set to leave finally came, but she didn’t feel as melancholy as she expected to feel. She’d spent the prior few days drowning in her own nostalgia as she visited every forgotten corner of her childhood home, rifling through her old toys and relics from before her parents passed, making sure to set aside the most sentimental things so that she could take them along with her. She shed a few tears here and there, but mostly she felt a selfish twinge of relief. 

As much as she loved her uncle, she had been craving a change in her life for so long now that she had made peace with eventually leaving long before Alastor had even considered sending her off with a man that was a complete stranger to her. 

But something about that added to the excitement— she was truly being thrown into the unknown head first. An unfamiliar city, an unfamiliar home, and an unfamiliar person that undoubtedly had a whole wealth of knowledge and stories to share with her. It was a lot of change, but she welcomed it eagerly. 

Though, eager as she was to leave, saying goodbye to her uncle proved to be a lot harder than anything else. 

She hugged him for as long as he would allow her to, clinging on to him and shoving her face into his worn out old robes and savoring the scent that she’d always associate with comfort— tobacco, sage, and a hint of his favorite wine— leaving behind a few small wet spots from the tears that she silently shed. He kissed the top of her head and placed his hands encouragingly on her shoulders, and gave her an affirmative nod. He had never been good with words when it came to expressing affection, but she didn’t feel like she needed it. He showed his care for her in so many other ways that words just seemed unnecessary. 

To be cared for is to be seen. To be loved is to be known. 

She wished him luck on his quest, whatever that may be, then disappeared into the portal that would take her straight to her new home. 

That day almost feels like a lifetime ago. Uncle Alastor checks in every once in a while, sending both her and Gale individual letters. She wants so badly to know what he had to say that was so different to Gale than what he says to her, or rather what he wants him to know and her to not—but she never lets curiosity get the best of her, regardless. 

The one he sent today was unusually brief and simple, assuring her that he was doing well and that he hoped to come by to visit sometime soon— as he’d been saying for months and had still yet to do so. 

She watched Gale read his as he sat at his large mahogany desk, his glasses sat just at the end of his nose and his brows furrowed as he read. His expression didn’t change or seem anything other than relaxed as he read, so she took that as a good sign. She relaxed slightly into the plush cushions of the chaise, a weight she didn’t realize she’d been bearing lifting off of her shoulders. 

She lounged in her favorite spot in his office where she would spend hours reading and researching with him, or where she would sit as she intently listened to him bestow her with random tidbits of knowledge that he found riveting, his cadence as he spoke about it making her feel just as excited by it as he was. 

“I wonder how many more times he’ll promise to visit before he actually does,” she jokes, breaking the comfortable silence. 

Gale huffs air from his nose, never looking up at her from the assortment of scrolls, parchment, and tomes scattered across the surface of his desk. “Knowing your uncle, he’s probably already forgotten he’d ever mentioned it by the time the letters made it to us.” 

She chuckles lightly and sighs, leaning her cheek against the top of the backing of the chaise. “I imagine you’re probably right.” 

Another comfortable silence fills the room, as it often did while Gale busied himself with whatever studies he found pressing enough to indulge in. She tried her best not to interrupt him or disturb him, just simply existed near him in the event he were to need her help or wanted to rant to someone about whatever was occupying his excellent mind. 

She quietly hops off of the lounger and pads over to the large open window on the other side of the large room, perching herself on the windowsill and gazing at the vast expanse of the ocean below, the sun shimmering on it in hues of orange and pink as it began to set. The breeze is pleasant and the faint salty scent of the ocean drifts with the wind and fills her senses. She closes her eyes and indulges in it for a few moments, feeling a kind of serenity that she hadn’t felt in a while. 

When she finally opens her eyes, she finds Gale has turned in his seat and is watching her with a peaceful grin on his face. She holds his gaze for a moment before she has to tear herself away, nervousness rumbling in her gut as she squirms under his intense gaze. 

“Would you like to go for a stroll? It’s a beautiful evening,” he asks, causing her to nearly topple over and fall out of the open window. Great. 

Gale jolts in his seat, preparing to rescue her from her own potential idiotic demise, before she quickly hops down and plants her feet firmly on the ground and shoots him a reassuring glance. 

“I don’t think my heart can handle being around you, at times,” he jokes. His eyes widen and his face pales, and he clears his throat nervously before he continues. “That’s the second— no, third— time you’ve nearly fallen out of that window. I’m starting to consider casting an arcane lock or an invisible shield on the damned thing.” 

Her stomach is doing flips and somersaults as she replays the words he’d said in her head a million times over, despite him quickly correcting himself. Little did he know, she felt very much the same way around him, but for an entirely different reason. 

“Sorry,” she whispers, her eyes dropping to the floor sheepishly. “I’ve never been exactly graceful.” 

He sighs, silently chuckling and shaking his head. “So I’ve gathered.” 

He stands and joins her in front of the window, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back slightly as he mimics what she’d done just moments prior, minus the potential self-defenestration. 

A stronger breeze passes, blowing back his chestnut waves and his lavish looking robes with it. His very slightly aged and weathered skin is bathed in the peachy hues from the sunset. She takes a moment to realize he’s much younger than he appears— she wonders if stress has aged him and caused his graying hair, and what could have stressed him so terribly that it physically affected him. 

“What do you say?” He asks, turning to her once again, his hands clasped behind his back. 

She swallows hard. The thought of a stroll in the warm twilight with Gale of Waterdeep was nearly too much for her heart to bear. She fiddles with the bottom hem of the blouse she was wearing, her gaze fixed on a random point far off into the horizon. 

Say yes. Say yes! 

“U-um, I’m actually not f-feeling very well… I may need to lie down for a bit. But perhaps… another time?” She stammers, her voice meek and unconvincing. At least to herself. 

Stupid, stupid. 

Gale nods, but is unable to completely hide his disappointment, a slight frown gracing his features that would almost be impossible to notice if it weren’t for his expressive eyes. Her heart nearly breaks at the way his brown irises resembled a puppy who’d just been denied a treat. Was it too late to take it back? 

“Are you alright? Is there anything I can do for you?” He takes a step closer, concern replacing the disappointment in his eyes as his brows softened and his hand raised as if he was going to reach for her, before quickly lowering it and dropping it to his side. 

Her body stiffens and her back straightens, her heart pounding. How did she get to this point— where something as simple as him extending base level kindness to her was enough to affect her this much? You’d think after living under his roof for half a year and getting to know him that these feelings would have subsided or dulled themselves by now— but if anything, the more time she spent with him, the more she ached to bridge that gap between them. To be close to him in every way, to tangle herself in him and pray the knot never loosens. 

But she had already accepted that such a thought was silly and childish— her juvenile crush on him would eventually subside and she would forget all about it, like it was never there to begin with. So for now, all she could do was endure. 

“I’m fine, really. I think I just… maybe I just need a nice relaxing bath, or something.” She offers, throwing it out meaninglessly then realizing that a hot bath sounded absolutely divine. 

An unreadable expression flashes across his face for a flicker of an instant before he recomposes, then smooths the front of his coat down with his hands and clears his throat. He offers her his usual warm grin, and nods. 

“By all means. Perhaps I’ll start dinner while you do. It should be done by the time you’ve finished.” 

She can’t hold back the nearly giddy smile that teases the corners of her mouth. He is so sweet. So genuine. 

She nods. “That sounds good. Thank you.” 

Without exchanging another word, they disperse, him retreating downstairs and her essentially running to her room to grab her towels and toiletries. 

She grabs two towels, one for her body and one for her hair, then the soap that she’d gotten the last time she went to the market to pick up a few of her personal essentials. The shopkeeper let her know that it was a special soap, made particularly with ingredients that had calming effects on the user. Perfect. 

She pads out of her room, closing the door behind her and making her way to the large bathroom at the far end of the hallway. 

Gale had a way of leaving his mark on every space he inhabited, and this bathroom was no exception. The room was cozy, draped in various deep purple curtains and several houseplants that looked as if they’d been cared for by the most skilled of botanists, not a single dead leaf or weak stem. There were robes hung on the wall closest to the large clawfoot tub on one end of the room— his robes. She mindlessly runs her hand across the soft fabric of one of them, noticing a small tear in the collar and a few scuffs and singed marks throughout it. She wonders what mischief he’d gotten himself into while wearing it, picturing him perhaps trying out a new spell and it backfiring on him. She smiles and chuckles quietly to herself. 

She tears herself away from her thoughts and his clothes, and approaches the tub, turning the ornate handle for the hot water and watching it run, slowly filling the marble basin. She perches herself on the edge of the tub, staring blankly into the rippling water. 

She thinks of how many times Gale had probably done the exact same thing as she was doing right now— how he would sink himself into the water and finally truly rest his weary and aching bones, and wash away the stresses of the day even if it were only for the small duration of him being enveloped in the comforts of a warm bath. She wonders if he ever— 

No. Another thing she absolutely could not think about. A thought to avoid at all costs if she intended on ever being able to look him in the eye again. It was hard enough already as it was.

The tub finally fills just as she shakes her head to clear herself of the beginnings of what were certainly very perverse and not very platonic thoughts, thankfully allowing her to now focus on something else. She quickly disrobes, folding her clothes neatly and setting them aside on the chair in the corner of the room— a habit she’d picked up from watching him do it. 

The room, apart from the heat radiating off of the water in the tub, is chilly against her flushed skin, instantly raising gooseflesh all over her as she peels away the thin layers of clothing she’d been wearing. The tile feels icy against the bare soles of her feet as she returns to the tub, reaching over and grabbing the soap off of the shelf she’d placed it on earlier as she begins to submerge herself. 

The second her body dipped below the surface and the warm water completely enveloped her, she felt all tension in her body release like it had never been there to begin with. She hadn’t even used the soap yet and she felt the calming effects of it from the smell alone as she dunked it underwater. Lavender and a hint of citrus. 

Sometimes she caught a whiff of lavender when the window in the kitchen was open and the breeze would jostle the lavender plant that sat on the sill. She remembered Gale telling her that he loved the smell of fresh lavender. Not that that was the reason she bought the soap. Not at all. Not really.

She takes her time scrubbing each inch of her body, savoring this moment of pure bliss and wondering why she’d never enjoyed baths as much prior to this one. By the time she’s done, she dreads abandoning the comforts of the marble tub, but due to her fingertips pruning she knows that she’d probably been in there longer than she needed to be, and Gale was surely done cooking dinner by now. 

She begins to stand, the water and whatever remaining suds rinsing off of her and splashing loudly as she does, which you’d think would have been enough of an audio cue that she was still occupying the bathroom and prevent Gale from bursting into the bathroom, much to both of their horror.

She lets out a startled shriek and attempts to maintain her modesty by covering herself with her hands, which barely achieved anything. Gale quickly shields his eyes with his own hand, stammering and stuttering incoherent apologies and curses.

“I— I thought—  your bedroom door was closed, so I assumed you were in there— forgive me! I just—  um—” He clamors over himself trying to make any sort of sense at all, never moving his hand an inch out of the way of his eyes, closing them tightly for good measure. “D-Dinner is finished and on the table waiting for you when you’re ready. Take your time.” 

He darts out of the room, slamming the door behind him and the sound of hurried footsteps down the hall preceding. 

Her heart pounds in her chest as if it were a wardrum and she’s almost certain that she might actually die of embarrassment. If she doesn’t resort to drowning herself in the leftover bathwater to avoid going downstairs and facing him, first. 

She stands there, frozen in place for far too long before she realizes that she was very much still naked and drenched as a shiver rakes down her spine and her teeth start to chatter. 

Fine. The world’s most awkward dinner ever, it is. 

She wraps one of the towels she brought around her body, then the other around her shoulders for extra coverage before peeking her head out of the door, checking if the coast was clear before dashing down the hallway and into the safety of her bedroom. 

Once inside, she shuts the door with a loud click, then leans against the wood and sighs. 

Within one singular day, within at least an hour of each other, she’d rejected him (unintentionally, mind you), and he’d seen her bare naked body. After half a year of living together and nothing strange ever occurring between them aside from occasional extended loaded eye contact and a smile that felt like it bore hidden intent here and there that she brushed off and assumed it was just a glimmer of hope clouding her judgment. 

Accidents happen though, and he just so happened to accidentally manage to walk into the bathroom at the exact moment her entire naked body was visible from the doorway. Things happen. It’s fine. 

She recalls him saying that her bedroom door was shut and that was why he assumed it was safe for him to come in. She’s not sure why him noticing something like that made her stomach twist and do flips as if she were tumbling very suddenly down a hill, but it did all the same. She wonders what other things he notices about her, if anything else at all. The thought makes her throat run dry.

She pulls on an oversized blouse that fell well past the top of her thighs as well as a comfortable pair of pants, feeling the need to cover as much of herself as possible to maybe cancel out the fact that he’d seen everything only moments ago. It didn’t work, of course, but it was worth a try. 

Realizing that he was probably sitting at the table and waiting for her before eating, as he always did, she finally forces herself to face the inevitable and join him downstairs.

She peeks around the corner and sees him exactly where she expected him to be— the same seat he always sat in for any meals, opposite the chair she always sat in, staring blankly down at his plate, massaging his temples with his fingertips. He looks equally as perturbed by their encounter as she does, and she can’t tell if that is a comfort to her or if it made her want to shrink and disappear. 

She catches a flash of auburn and gray fur as Tara flies in from an open window and perches herself on the table beside Gale. He doesn’t acknowledge her physically, but utters a quiet ‘hello’ that sounds more like a groan. 

“Mr. Dekarios, you look as though you’ve seen a ghost!” She chirps, pawing at his bicep with concern. “Where is my favorite reading companion? Have you finally scared her off?”

Gale swats her paw off of his arm and shoots her a look of annoyance. “Not now, Tara.”

“Did something happen between you two? About time, I say. I do rather like having her around, you know.” The feathered feline continues, pacing in front of Gale and nearly stepping right in the middle of his plate before he scoots it away.

“I fear she may run for the hills like a bat out of a crypt after today,” He groans. “I’ve made a complete ass of myself. It seems to be my specialty these days.” 

“Mr. Dekarios, I may just be a simple tressym but I have it on good authority she won’t go anywhere.” Tara says, her tone meaningful and full of insinuation as she pokes and prods Gale’s arm once again. 

He looks at his companion with soft eyes full of despair, his entire body seeming to sag in his seat in contrast to his usually perfect and poised posture. “I hope you’re right.”

Silence fills the room as Tara comfortingly bumps her head against Gale’s shoulder, eliciting a sweet smile from him that makes her insides feel fuzzy. She waits a few moments more before exiting the stairway so as to not appear suspicious or that she’d been eavesdropping. Her steps are extra quiet as she carefully tiptoes into the dining room. Tara notices her first and greets her warmly. 

“Elara! There you are! How are you, my friend?” Tara calls to her, strutting across the large wooden surface of the dinner table to her side, sitting right next to her plate. 

She glances at Gale for a brief moment, his eyes boring into her as if he were anticipating something terrible to come from her mouth. She offers him a shy smile, then turns her attention back to Tara. 

“I’m well, thank you. I missed you this morning, Tara. Find any juicy pigeons to snack on?” She jokes, patting her head gently. Tara purrs and bumps her head against Elara’s palm, almost appearing to smile at the affectionate gesture. Gale’s eyes darted back and forth between his two companions rapidly, an unreadable expression on his face. 

She tilts her head at him in a silent inquiry, to which he simply waves his hand and invites her to sit.

“Oh, yes, of course. You’ll have to come with me some day.” She offers, and Elara chuckles. As silly as it was, she knew how sweet it was for Tara to invite her to join her for a hunt, regardless of whether or not she ever actually would. 

“I’d love to.”

She pulls out the chair and sits, eyeing her plate and finding that somehow her food was still steaming hot as if it were fresh, while Gale’s appeared to have gone cold and stale. 

“I warmed it for you.” He says, answering her question before she even had the chance to ask. She smiles a grateful smile before taking a bite, not realizing how hungry she’d been until the very second the food landed on her taste buds.

They eat mostly in silence, aside from the sound of Gale’s fork scraping against the plate as he pushes his food around. She wants to ask why he didn’t bother to heat his own plate as well, but doesn’t want to pry. Perhaps he just wasn’t that hungry. 

The echoes of something she overheard Gale say in response to Tara’s teasing linger in her mind, reverberating off of the walls of her skull as if he’d shouted them into the mouth of a cave. 

I hope you’re right. 

He hoped she’d stay. He wants her to stay. 

The sound of Tara taking flight startles her from her thoughts, catching a glimpse of the tail end of her as she flies toward the staircase, likely heading to her favorite spot in Gale’s office on a blanket right in front of the fireplace. The departure of what acted as the buffer for the awkward tension between the two of them made it impossible to ignore the proverbial owlbear in the room. 

Gale’s voice is the one that breaks the silence. “I apologize again— for earlier. I should have knocked.” 

She waves him off, keeping her gaze focused on her plate. “Things happen.” 

He clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I just fear that I’ve made you uncomfortable more than once today.” 

Now her gaze is locked right on him, confusion coating her features. When he notices, he sighs. 

“When I asked you if you wanted to go for a stroll. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

Oh. 

Gods, why is he so damn considerate? 

“No, no,” she says, her voice softening and her eyes matching it. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable at all.”

It’s his turn to be confused now, his eyebrows knitted together and mouth pressed into a line. “Why did you say no, then?” 

What answer could she give him that wasn’t entirely incriminating? ‘I said no because I’m in love with you and you make me nervous’? Not a chance. 

“I… I’m just feeling a little tired today.” 

He eyes her and suddenly it’s like she’s completely naked under his gaze once again, only she nearly feels even more exposed now than she did when she was actually naked. He can tell there’s more to it, but he doesn’t push. He never pushes.

“Well, do know that I’m always here if you need to talk. If there’s something bothering you, just say the word and I’ll do what I can to help.” 

Only there isn’t anything he can do to help— hells, even this conversation is doing the very opposite of helping. 

“Thank you, Mr. Dek— I mean— Gale.” She smiles sheepishly, earning a disgruntled smirk from Gale at her slip up. 

She remembers a conversation they had not too long after she moved in, where he told her that referring to him as ‘Mr. Dekarios’ was unnecessary, and preferred that she just called him Gale. For her comfort, but also his own. He didn’t delve into why, but she just assumed that that was a Tara exclusive thing and never questioned it further.

“My pleasure,” He breathes, pushing his chair back and standing with his plate in hand. “I apologize, but I may turn in early tonight. Don’t worry about your dish when you’re finished, I’ll take care of it in the morning.”

She watches him as he scrapes his plate into the waste bin and then places it in the sink basin, rubbing his hands together and then turning to head for the stairs. He breezes past her and she catches a whiff of that familiar scent she’d caught from the robes hanging in the bathroom— sandalwood, bergamot, and a hint of old parchment. Something she would try not to think about if she weren’t reminded of it everyday that she spent surrounded by him, still feeling as though he were in the room with her even when he was away.

Just before his foot lands on the first stair, she turns and calls to him. He pauses, turning his entire body at the sound of her voice.

“Thank you, again. Goodnight.” 

He beams at her, his smile reaching his deep brown eyes that she could see the twinkle in even from across the room. She swears she’d even be able to see it from miles away.

“Goodnight, Elara.” 

~

Lavender. Gale loved the smell of lavender. 

It lingered throughout the halls and wafted out from the bathroom for hours after her bath, and he found himself stopping just outside the doorway without realizing it, as if some invisible force was drawing him to it. As if that smell were a siren’s call, and he was a fisherman lost at sea being lured into her claws. He smelled it on her when she came downstairs, her hair still damp and falling in her face, her skin still flushed from the warmth of the water. 

Selfishly, he could not get the image of her out of his head— the elegant curves of her body and the way it glistened as the hazy light of dusk paired with candlelight cast an ethereal glow that almost made her seem like nothing more than a conjured illusion. Though, he was sure no wizard would ever be able to conjure something as meticulously crafted as her, something that exquisite couldn’t have even been sculpted by the gods. 

It felt wrong and he felt the weight of guilt on his shoulders for violating her privacy tenfold, and yet, his brain could not seem to let him forget for even a fraction of a second. He was incredibly thankful he was able to make it downstairs and hide his arousal under the table before she saw him again and was truly put off by him. He cursed himself internally for being unable to contain himself— one can’t always be a gentleman, it seems.  

It was purely a miracle that he managed to contain himself as he walked past her to finally retire to his bedroom after what felt like the most mentally exhausting day. It was a miracle every day that he managed to contain himself around her, really. Especially on days that she wore dresses— he adored dresses on her. He pictured taking her for a proper evening out in Waterdeep. Greeting her at the door with flowers, walking hand in hand and buying her dinner, showing her all of his favorite parts of the place he loved most in the world, then kissing her goodnight on the stoop and smiling like a giddy schoolboy the entire rest of the night after they departed. 

He’d been enraptured by her from the first moment he laid eyes on her, the first time he ran into her and Alastor at Sorcerous Sundries— so much so, that he completely forgot what he’d even gone there for and entirely abandoned whatever it was and returned home as quickly as possible, his heart racing as if it were trying to escape his chest and run right into her grasp. Sometimes he thinks maybe it has. 

And then when Alastor asked him to let her stay with him, all hope of properly courting her the way she deserved had somehow been entirely dashed in an instant. While you’d think having the object of your desires right within your own home at all times would make things easier— it did not. It only further complicated an already somewhat complicated situation. 

He valued his friendship with Alastor greatly, and feared that he would not take kindly to him beginning a romantic relationship with his only niece who had basically been raised as his daughter. She was worth trying for, he’d decided, and had been planning on coming around more and getting to know her the right way— and the rest is history.

Now, he’s tormented by her being so close and yet not close enough to touch. To occupy the same home as her, but never the same space was downright agonizing. 

She had become the bane of his very existence, only because every day she made it even harder to resist her. 

For example, the way she interacted with Tara— whom, mind you, generally disliked most other humans aside from himself and his mother— the way Tara greeted her with such ardor, not too different from the way she would greet him. The way she not only allowed her to pet her head, but even purred as she did so. Tara is many things, but easily swayed by people is not one of them. And yet, she welcomes her into their home as if she’d always been there. As if she’d been simply waiting for her to come home all this time. 

It had begun to feel that way for Gale as well— his heart ached at the thought of Alastor coming home and her leaving again. While he missed his friend, he could not deny that he’d miss her presence in this house much more. 

He felt himself going mad. Absolutely and truly round the bend crazy over her. 

He wasn’t proud of what he’d done the second he made it into his bedchamber for the night. 

To make matters worse, it wasn’t even the first time he’d done such a thing. 

The pained straining of his erection against his clothing was making his entire body ache along with it, as if it were punishing him for neglecting it for as long as he had. The second he released it from the confines of his pants and underclothes, a bead of precum leaked and he groaned. 

Gods, this is madness. 

Perhaps maybe if he did this, he could get it out of his system and forget about it all in the morning. Yes, he thought, that makes perfectly logical and reasonable sense. 

He clumsily strips his day clothes off apart from his underwear, uncharacteristically discarding it into a heap beside his bed before jumping into the expanse of the large mattress in the center of the room and making himself comfortable. 

He looks down at his own pathetically swollen and throbbing cock, and he almost wishes he could call her into his room and show her the effect she has on him. He pictures her long dark curls fanned out across the pillows at the head of the bed, the way her complexion would be complimented so beautifully by the violet silk sheets beneath her, her legs spread for him. The way he’d devour her and drink her in as if she were the richest wine or the sweetest peach in all of Faerun. The way his name would sound cried from her lips in pure ecstasy. 

The thought alone was enough to bring him closer to the edge— hells, he was sure he’d been on the brink of orgasm for longer than he’d like to admit. He was almost certain the second he began to pump himself into his fist that he’d be done for. 

He started slowly, hoping to savor it for at least a few minutes and give himself more time to indulge in his fantasies. His chest heaved and his cheeks flushed with desire, and he had to try to keep himself quiet on the off chance that she could overhear him. Despite his efforts, he grunted softly as his pace quickened, now pumping himself with a steady rhythm that felt right— that if he closed his eyes, he could picture her on top of him, instead. 

That didn’t last long, as within a minute he was spilling onto his own stomach and coming completely undone, chanting her name in breathy whispers over and over as if it were a prayer without even realizing he was saying anything at all in his lust addled haze.

He grips himself as he rides out the aftershocks until the sensation was entirely too much and he had to let go, his entire body going limp and exhaustion finally presenting itself to him and each one of the muscles he’d just expended in that process. He looks down wearily at the mess he’d made of himself, and throws his head back into the pillows. 

He wonders if her pillows smell like lavender. He imagines that they do. 

God I am a shameless wizard kisser I need him so bad I need him in a way that needs to be studied in a lab

this is part one of a series - ✧ (chapter 2)

[starlingflight]

Ginniversary Drabble 6

Prompt - N42 - it is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife

AO3 or read below:

Is The Chosen One Choosing Marriage? 

As famous witch and occasional novelist Jane Austen said, ‘it is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife’, and today it appears even the Wizarding World’s most eligible saviour is not exempt from the basic laws of nature as Ginny Weasley, Holyhead Harpies star Chaser, and long-time girlfriend of Harry Potter, Auror and defeater of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, steps out bearing a new, and rather eye-catching piece of jewellery. 

Weasley, 20, set tongues wagging as she left the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade late last night accompanied by longtime friends, esteemed Auror, Neville Longbottom, and lauded Magizoologist, Luna Lovegood; sporting a ruby and diamond ring which could be seen from across the street, and left none but the most oblivious in any doubt as to the size of Potter’s fortune [pictures page 4]. 

Sources from within the Hogsmeade establishment say that Weasley and friends were seen enjoying a round of drinks, over which she flaunted the ring for the admiration of her companions, accepting enthusiastic congratulations, and a hug from Longbottom that some suggest may have been too familiar. 

There was no sign of the illustrious Mr Potter in attendance, but this can come as no surprise as sightings of the couple together outside of Weasley’s matches are rare, leading many rather optimistic readers, to speculate on several occasions previously that the pair had parted ways.  

In an interview with popular wireless host, Lee Jordan, last year Weasley stated, “we’re not concerned with the headlines. As I’ve said to my brothers on many occasions, mine and Harry’s relationship is between us, and it’s no one else’s business… Now, let’s talk about Quidditch.”

Potter and Weasley were first officially spotted together in the Summer of 1998 [pictures page 5], though sources from their Hogwarts days advise the relationship has been going much longer than that [full relationship timeline, page 6]. 

“Weasley got her claws in him back in our fifth year,” said Romilda Vane, former classmate of Ginny Weasley. “She still had a boyfriend when she snogged Potter in front of the whole common room. It was quite pathetic actually.” 

Other sources have debunked the suggestion that there was overlap between the beginning of Potter and Weasley’s relationship, and any of her previous romantic partners, of which there were apparently many. 

Dean Thomas, up-and-coming artist, and one such conquest, has stated, “I’m only going to answer this once, Ginny and I were over before anything happened with her and Harry. We weren’t right for each other, we both knew it, and we’re both now with the people we’re meant to be with. We remain good friends, and, for the love of Merlin, I would like to be excluded from this narrative.” 

We will, of course, let our readers draw their own conclusions. 

Despite the rumours that abound about the couple's sordid past, the future apparently looks bright for Potter and Weasley, though no official statement has been forthcoming from the supposedly happy couple. When asked for comment, both Weasley’s and Potter’s representation declined to give one, leaving us here at Witch Weekly no choice but to speculate on if, and when, the pair will make it down the aisle. 

[coopersgal]

Cooper Howard qotues

Why, is this an Amish production of The Count of Monte Cristo or... just the weirdest circle jerk I've ever been invited to?" – The Ghoul after being awoken

"Well, what makes you think I'd give a good goddamn about that?" – The Ghoul to Honcho about a bounty

"Well, I tell you what, boys, whenever somebody says... ...they're doing one last job, that usually means their heart's not in it. Probably never was. But for me, well... I do this shit for the love of the game." – The Ghoul to the bounty hunters

"You right, friend, about one thing. This right here was your last job. My paycheck wasn't quite what you expected, but... well, you know what they say. Us cowpokes... ...we take it as it comes." – The Ghoul while murdering Honcho

"Now, last night a bounty came in through all six agencies. A hefty price on the head of a man that fits the description of that fella right there. Now, I may not know much, but I do know a bidding war when I see one." – The Ghoul about the bounty for Dr. Wilzig

"Well, now, that is a very small drop in a very, very large bucket of drugs." – The Ghoul after being shot at by Lucy

"You got to be fucking kidding me." – The Ghoul after seeing Maximus' arrival

"Well, I'd say come up here and get me, but... it's hard to walk upstairs when you're wearing a 12-piece cast-iron skillet set." – The Ghoul to Maximus.

"Well, I guess basic training ain't what it used to be. 'Cause you drive that thing like a fucking shopping cart. Rule number one: read the manual." – The Ghoul taunting Maximus

"Yeah, well, the Wasteland's got its own golden rule. [...] Thou shalt get sidetracked by bullshit every goddamn time."

"Well, Lucy MacLean, it ain't all canned peaches and marmalade left up here, sweetheart. Sometimes a fella's got to eat a fella." – The Ghoul while harvesting Roger's remains

"I'll bet that outfit makes y'all fell like a big man, don't it? Well, I know 'cause, well I used to wear one back in the day. There was only one problem with it. There was a flaw in the welding just below the chest plate. I wonder if they fixed that in this new model? I guess not." – The Ghoul confronting the Brotherhood.

"Oh, you want another autograph, young Henry? Feo, fuerte y formal." – The Ghoul to Hank MacLean.

"When your daughter said her last name was MacLean, well, I just couldn't believe it was the MacLean. Hell, this kid used to pick up my wife's dry cleaning. Now, I've waited over 200 years to ask somebody one question. Where's my fucking family?" – The Ghoul confronting Hank MacLean.

"War never changes. You look out at this Wasteland, looks like chaos. But there's always somebody behind the wheel. And that's who I want to talk to. That's where your daddy is headed." – The Ghoul to Lucy Maclean.

John Hancock quotes

Of the people, for the people."

"Plenty of folks wanna make life hard for people just tryin' to survive. I'm not willing to stand for that kinda shit."

"What kind of settlement requires a test for entry?" – Referring to Covenant.

"Whoa, the Downs. Hope we're not going anywhere for a while." – Referring to Easy City Downs.

"That kinda bull is the reason I became mayor in the first place." – Referring to The Big Dig

"Damn. Hey, look, if you wanna get outta here..." – If taken to Nate/Nora's corpse in Vault 111.

"If someone needs help, we help 'em. If someone needs hurting, we hurt 'em. It's not hard."

"Like it? I think it gives me a sexy, king of the zombies kinda look. Big hit with the ladies."

"Hey, does that play "Red Menace?" Love that damn game." – Accessing a terminal

"Looks like you can use a little pick me up." – Said when initiating dialogue with him as a companion (and him giving the player character a random chem)

"Whoa ho ho, I like you already! Walk into a new place, make a show of dominance. Nice." – referring to the Sole Survivor killing Finn

"Listen close. It's the last thing you're ever gonna hear." – When Sinjin tells the player character to stop speaking as The Silver Shroud

"Christ, it's bright in here. Clearly they didn't consider some folks might be nursing hangovers. " – Possible comment when entering Vault 81.

If completing The Big Dig with Bobbi No-Nose:

"How you doin' killer? Arms tired from all that digging? You know, my strongroom is surprisingly empty now..."

"Now if it was just the money, I'd rough you up, break a few bones, and then we'd be square once you paid me back. But you killed Fahrenheit. That means blood for blood."

When traveling naked:

"Hey Emperor, love the outfit."

"Let them stare."

"Don't mind me, just enjoying the view"

When committing Cannibalism:

"Suppose they're...beyond caring at this point"

"You...you do what you gotta"

"That one...all yours"

"At least you have the politeness to wait til they're dead"

When using chems:

"Two a day, keep reality at bay."

"Lean back and enjoy the ride."

"That's a good one, take it all in."

"Never trip alone."

When getting Addiction:

"You feel as bad as you look?"

"Wow, how much did you take?"

"'ay, you should slow down, and that's ME saying that"

When not responding while talking with him:

"Did I say something wrong?"

"You wanna talk? Make me a little nervous over here."

"What gives? I thought we were talking."

"Did your chems just kick in or something?"

"Like talking to a brick wall."

"Hmm, lights are on but no one's home."

"What? Mole rat got your tongue?"

"Uhm... You alright?"

"You check out on me?"

"Anybody in there?"

"That's right. Take it all in

After committing to a close relationship

"Words don't begin to do it justice. You, you're the best thing I got."

"Guess you're the piece I'd always missing...that and that toe I still can't find..."

"It's like I found a part of myself I never realized was missing... which happens sometimes when you're a ghoul."

"Nothing to lose but each other."

"Moments like this, I know all that karma stuff is bull. Because no one like me should be this lucky."

"You sure you wanna be stuck with this ugly mug?"

When Lover's Embrace is activated:

"Morning, sunshine."

"Well look at you. I must still be dreamin'..."

"Don't mind me... just enjoying the view."

Upon picking up junk:

"Careful! You don't know where that's been."

"That actually worth something?"

"If anybody could find a use for that."

Upon looting a corpse:

"Time to collect."

"To the living, go the spoils."

When the Brotherhood of Steel arrives in the Commonwealth:

"Holy shit." – When witnessing the Prydwen's arrival.

"Brotherhood knows how to make an entrance. I'll give 'em that." – When commenting on the Brotherhood

Cooper Howard VS John Hancock quotes these two has some good quotes it's hard to pick one for me I say both anyways you can use these for Headcannons, Edits, Memes, and so on I just put these here so it's easier for some people to use them I also tag people if your interested talk in the messages there open I have so many things I want to make but the next one is going to get Cooper Howard and John Hancock with Serena I was thinking doing a Picture Edit with some quotes and yes I do requests too.

[arealphrooblem]

Terms of Surrender Part 5

Synopsis: The queen of a doomed city makes the deal her husband refused to make with the conquering warlord outside her city's gates.

Part One Here

Part Four Here

CW: Ingrained, systematic sexism (not from the Warlord)

“I have a matter I wish to discuss with you.”

The warlord hovered his hand over a rook and then a pawn, considering his next move. The last few visits to the rooftop garden had shown nothing but a city peacefully rebuilding; even so, the queen felt her stomach clench in unease.

“Oh?” she said, keeping her voice light and curious.

The warlord settled on the pawn and moved it. “Yes. The king of Neighboring Country wants to meet and discuss new trade agreements. I had hoped to gain your insight and advice on his upcoming visit.”

“You want my advice?”

The warlord glanced up at her from the board. “Of course. Out of everyone I know, you would have the most experience and knowledge with this man and previous trade agreements.”

“And you would trust my advice?” she asked slowly, game forgotten.

The corner of his mouth lifted up. “Well I wouldn’t follow it blindly, but I don’t follow any advice blindly. It doesn’t make it any less valuable. Would you be willing to share it?”

She chose her words carefully. “I will share what I can. However, my husband did not include me in those kinds of negotiations.”

“What do you mean he didn’t include you?” The tiny smile dropped, replaced by an icy glint in his eyes. “You are his wife and a ruler of your country. Why would you not be included?”

The question took her aback, the answer so obvious to her that she didn’t understand his confusion. “I’m a woman,” she explained slowly. “Trade and the economy were not part of my duties. That’s the sphere of men.”

He stared at her as if she had just spoken gibberish, or in a language foreign to both of them. “I see,” he said after a long moment.

She felt as if she had just disappointed him and the guilt and embarrassment of it burned at her edges.

“I have met that king many times,” she said tentatively. “He was a friend of my father’s before I was married. I could advise you on his personality, his flaws and vices.”

“That would be very helpful,” he said, the coldness of his gaze melting. “Thank you.” He gestured at the chessboard. “It’s your turn, my lady.”

That afternoon, one of her guards delivered a rolled up piece of parchment to her, from the warlord.

“What is this?” she asked cautiously.

“The terms of trade my lord created,” said the guard. “He wanted you to look over them.”

Nerves fluttered in her gut but she did not let her face betray her. “I see. Thank you.”

She took it to her desk that faced a window to the garden, opened up the curtains,  and settled in. Reading it with her limited skills felt like deciphering a code. The slant of his beautiful handwriting often confused her, as did his long, winding sentences. She took in enough to get a basic idea of the terms he wanted; hopefully combined with her knowledge of the king in question she would be able to provide enough assistance to satisfy him and not enough to invite more this sort of advice.

Dinner was accompanied by the Warlord himself, who set them up at her breakfast table. She noticed that he preferred simple food, not multiple courses, and he had a sweet tooth. Tonight's dinner was seasoned, tender fish, spiced rice and soft flat bread. A small layered pastry sat on a separate plate.

“This is unexpected,” she said. “I haven’t had a dinner companion in quite some time.”

He paused, fork in hand. “Do you prefer to eat alone? I can return.”

“No, no. It was not a complaint.”

In truth she did enjoy his company, despite her reluctance to trust him. And though she’d grown more comfortable with a level of solitude unheard of for a member of the court, she often found herself lonely.

He gave her that tiny smile. “I thought we could discuss that trade contract after we eat. Meanwhile, what can you tell me about your experiences with this king?”

“He’s very manipulative,” she said immediately. “My father could see through much of his lies, but he ran circles around my husband and received many benefits as a result. I’m sure he expects to woo your ego enough to get those same benefits from you.”

The Warlord smirked. “I hope he gets used to disappointment.”

They discussed the king in more detail. The Queen regaled him with stories of the type of oily flattery that had won her husband’s fragile ego so quickly. She could tell just by the way the Warlord rolled his eyes or pursed his lips that such flattery would not work on him, that his ego was not fragile at all. It pleased her that the king would be greatly disappointed indeed but not brave or stupid enough to start a war over it. If only she could sit in on such a meeting to witness it herself.

She enjoyed their conversation so much that she forgot his expectation for after dinner. Once the plates were cleared away, the Warlord asked her to bring the scroll, and the bottom of her stomach dropped out. She obeyed regardless, trapped. The Warlord unrolled it out on the table between them.

“Considering the information you gave me, I see several loopholes this king will try to exploit. Which do you think is the worst offender?”

He gestured at the scroll, inviting her to look. The queen leaned over the table, a small knot forming in her stomach. To tell the truth that she could barely read and understand the first paragraph, let alone be able to skim the entire document.

She took a gamble, pointed vaguely at a paragraph in the middle. The Warlord peered down, brow furrowed.

“Forgive me, I must have gotten confused at what section you pointed at. This is a detail of my previous trade agreements in my country. What part did you refer to again?”

A hot flush crawled down her neck. “My apologies,” she said. “I meant this section right here.”

She pointed to a part two paragraphs below. The Warlord glanced down for a moment before looking back up, gaze suddenly cold.

“If you did not want to give your advice, you could have just told me. I gave you no obligation to comply. Did you even read this?”

The knot in her stomach twisted painfully. “Of course I read it,” she lied.

“And yet you point out the most useless parts of the contract that do not answer my concerns,” he retorted. “I will not be taken for a fool, not especially for asking for something that would only help your people.”

“I’m not trying to make you a fool!” she snapped. How did this conversation spiral so fast?

“Then answer my question!”

“I can’t!” she shouted.

Her voice echoed against the stone walls. The Warlord looked nonplussed.

“Why not?” he asked. “You’re not a stupid woman. Even if you could not be present for these types of discussions with your husband — which I find an utterly ridiculous practice — you would still have valuable insight. Unless, of course, watching me fail at this gives you some petty sense of revenge.”

Right now the Queen wanted nothing more than to throw herself out the window before she let him know the truth.

“I don’t care for petty revenge,” she said through gritted teeth.

“No, you don’t seem the type,” he agreed. “So why is this so difficult?”

That horrible, terrifying focus of his stare narrowed onto her and she watched the realization dawn on him in horrible, terrifying clarity.

“Please tell me you can read,” he said.

She jut her chin out. “I can read.” It technically was not a lie.

He tapped at one of the last paragraphs of the contract, the one closest to her end of the table. “Read that for me.”

She crossed her arm. “I’m not playing your game.”

His stare challenged her. “It’s not a game. Read it.”

She said nothing, holding his stare, keeping her arms crossed. The longer she refused the stormier his gaze became. But the fear of his anger was like a candle to the inferno of her shame. Finally he took up the scroll in disgust and rolled it back up. Victory tasted like ash on her tongue.

“Why were you never taught to read?” he demanded. “Was it because of your father? Did your mother know how to read? What sick bastard of a man keeps his daughters from literacy?”

“It wasn’t my father,” she snapped, unable to hear further slander of her family. “No woman knows how to read!”

“What?”

If anything, this made him even more furious. His face glowed red with it.

“You’re telling me half of your citizens can’t read? Half of your workforce can’t read?  Half of your royal court can’t read? The mothers of your children can’t read? Why?”

“Because we don’t need to read!” she shouted.

It was a mantra she had heard over and over again. Mothers did not need to read to cook or clean or raise children or love their husbands. Women of the court did not need to read to paint or embroider or manipulate the court for their husband’s favor. Women did not make decisions — their husbands and fathers did. What was the point of reading?

“Are you fucking serious?”

She stood up so suddenly the char behind her fell over. The lack of literacy was hard enough to swallow without the implication that it was somehow her fault, that she was culpable in it’s continuation. As if she could ever have the power to change an idea ingrained over hundreds of generations, Queen or not.

“I don’t care that I’m your prisoner,” she said shakily. Tears crowded in her throat and she refused to let him witness them. “I am not listening to this anymore. I am sorry my inadequacies have disappointed you.”

She strode over to her bedroom doors and slammed them shut behind her.

For three days she did not see or hear anything from the Warlord, which suited her just fine. A constant ember of shame glowed in her chest. He had thought so highly of her, in spite of their circumstances. It baffled her and warmed her. The Queen’s husband had seen her as a means to an end, a way to the throne, and her father had seen her as a failure for not being a son. No man had ever seen her as worthy of equal respect until the Warlord.

And now he thought she was nothing more than pathetic and  at fault for her own stupidity. She mourned the loss of his regard for her as much as she burned in fury at him for the whole cursed affair.

On the fourth day, the Warlord entered her sitting room. He held a book in his hand. The Queen glanced up at him from her embroidery and then pointedly ignored him. This did not stop him from taking a seat across from her.

Silence stretched out between them as fragile as a spider’s web. She refused to break it first just as she refused to look at him.

“I owe you an apology,” he said finally.

Her needle paused in surprise, but she kept her gaze firmly on her project.

“I humiliated you. It was not done intentionally; I truly had no idea the women here were illiterate. I became so angry because I see that practice as utterly barbaric and cruel. But I fear in my anger I only deepened your shame.”

The ice of her anger melted enough for her to respond.

“I have tried to teach myself,” she explained haltingly. “But my skills are very rudimentary at best. If I could have changed it, I would have.”

She dared a glance at his face and found herself shocked at the sorrow reflected in it.

“Back home, the women are not so powerless and at the mercy of their men,” he said. “It’s not a perfectly equal society by any means. But it is much different than here. You walked into my camp and delivered your surrender with such confidence, I had assumed you possessed much more power than you did.”

“I have more respect from you as a prisoner than I did from my husband as a Queen,” she admitted.

He looked pained. “That is unacceptable.”

She shrugged. “He was my father’s closest friend. I was his avenue to rule, and the bearer of his heir and nothing more.”

“You will never have to concern yourself with him again,” he said, a glint of his previous fury in his eyes.

The corner of her mouth tipped up. “No,” she agreed. “I will not.”

A relief she thanks God for every day.

“If you want it, I could arrange for a tutor for you,” he offered. “To teach you to read. I am already making plans to open up schools for the women here.”

And you wonder why I find you hard to believe she thought again.

“And until then, I thought I could read to you sometimes?” This offer came more hesitantly, as if afraid it would offend her.

She put her embroidery to the side. “I would like that very much.”

part 6 here

Taglist: @cesspitoflove@aprilraine@talesofurbania1@sarcasticlittlebook @hasel-anne @weaverofbrokenthreads @prismaticpizza

[chenfordspiral]

master post - all my Chenford stories

missing you sucks (i don't feel like me anymore) (AO3) Spec fic for 5x21 & 5x22. Lucy's on a longterm UC op and Tim misses her.

home is where my heart is (you feel like home) (AO3) Lucy's POV while she's undercover. Companion piece to "missing you sucks"

she was always the one you were meant to find (AO3) Isabel returns and makes a few observations about Tim and Lucy's relationship. Spec fic for 5x20.

i don't wanna lose you now, or ever (AO3) Lucy's insecurities are brought to the surface with Isabel's unexpected return, leading to a long overdue talk with Tim. (kind of a continuation of 5x20 spec fic from Lucy's POV, but works as a standalone)

it never was, not with you (AO3) Lucy spends some more time at Tim's bedside after his surgery, eventually hearing something unexpected.

you couldn't have loved me better (AO3) Lucy gets pulled out of her deep cover op prematurely after three months, so she's expecting bad news. She just never imagined this. Warning: Major Character Death!

i can't lose you (ch 1; ch 2) (AO3) A continuation of that last Chenford scene from 5x21, from Lucy's POV.

no one but you (AO3) Tim hasn't been able to let the thought go, but he didn't expect the conversation to end up being this emotional.

we've been here before, but it's different this time (AO3) Missing moment from the season 5 finale. Continuation of that hug scene.

i'm here if you need me (AO3) After learning of Chris Rios's passing, Tim tries his best to offer some comfort and be there for Lucy.

tell me we could have it all (AO3) Tim and Lucy share a moment when he drops her off after Nyla's wedding. Will they run and pretend it never happened, or will it finally make them realize that there's something between them and talk about their feelings?

feels like there's oceans between you and me (ch 1; ch 2; ch3; ch 4; ch 5, ch 6, ch 7, ch 8) (AO3) An insight into Tim's mind as he struggles to make sense of his changing relationship with Lucy and come to terms with his growing feelings for her.

the scratches gave us away (AO3) Aaron makes an interesting discovery, and proceeds to out a certain secret relationship.

Little bit of Love (AO3) A look into what the future may hold for Tim and Lucy.

when you’re by my side (AO3) Tim, Lucy, and Aaron get stuck in an elevator while on duty. Lucy’s trauma triggers a panic attack, but Tim is there to help her through it.

run into the night (like the sun won't ever come up) (AO3) After their first time together, Lucy and Tim spend some time lying in bed talking about scars, and feelings, and how they got to where they are today.

you keep his shirt (he keeps his word) (AO3) The day wasn’t special or remarkable at all, not in that sense anyway — until it turned into one that neither Lucy nor Tim would ever forget.

all this chemistry has got me falling (i'm definitely high) (AO3) Tim needed to forget; he needed to forget that his marriage was basically over. So when a beautiful stranger he met at a bar while drowning his sorrows suggested they help each other forget for a night, he couldn’t say no.

Little bit of Lust (AO3) The M and E rated missing scenes from Little bit of Love.

warm with you, safe with you, in love with you (AO3) When Lucy unexpectedly gets sick with the flu, Tim makes sure she's well taken care of. Even when she doesn't want to admit she's sick in the first place and insists on going into work anyway. Set sometime between 5x14 and 5x16.

'tis the first of many seasons (AO3) Chenford celebrate their first Christmas together with a ski trip and a cozy cabin. Bonus points if they get snowed in for a couple days. For Chenford Secret Santa 2023

two hearts that beat as one (our lives have just begun) (AO3) Chenford's first New Years as a married couple. Bonus fic for Chenford Secret Santa 2023

[mothdogsart]

Putting the actual piece under a readmore just in case 🫤

My DnD character died today for the first time—a setting-specific spell instantly beheaded him after he met one of the conditions of the spell by attacking its caster. Thankfully our Druid was able to Revivify him straight after (and the DM handwaved the clause about Revivify not reattaching body parts.) So truly he was only dead for like 10 seconds. In a fantasy world where death can essentially be reversed for the price of 300 GP, I have to wonder what death truly feels like.

The instant he fell, his soulbonded dragon companion would have felt a great howling vortex at the loss of him, even though she was just recently hatched. His best friends would have had to watch his head fly through the air and skid to a stop on the rough stone of the throne room, his blood spattering onto them from feet away. The druid would have had to scoop it up and hold it in her hands, his eyes still open and staring at his last enemy, as she resurrected his body.

Did his soul have time to travel to the Underworld? Did he see the leering face of Lutheria, dark goddess of death and nightmares, before he was yanked backwards towards the light?

It’s still horrific despite the fact that it was basically undone in an instant.

[bts-hyperfixation]

Outside of the fox

Chapter 5/21(?) - words 1996

Y/N longs for a new life when the one she’d been living comes to an abrupt stop. Without much thought to those she is leaving behind, the little fox packs a backpack and disappears. She stumbles across the shelter and makes an interim home for herself while she works out exactly what she wants from her second chance.

Last

The next day you go shopping. You manage to convince Noelle to go with you so she can help you pick some appropriate things.

Your husband had personal shoppers that chose what they thought would be best. Each garment was exquisite in its lines and execution, but they had definitely been more for show than comfort. It left you with a nonexistent fashion sense.

The mall is packed by the time the two of you get there. In hindsight, Saturday afternoon was not the best pick if you’d hoped for a calm first attempt and finding your style. Still, Noelle seemed completely unfazed by the prospect. If she noticed your hesitation, she didn’t comment on it. Instead, she forged ahead, linking her arm with yours and charging into the fray.

You shop for basics first, picking up plain t-shirts and blue jeans. The generic stores are easy, find your size and leave. For the statement pieces, it was a little more challenging. You gave Noelle a budget and she ran with it, finding a diverse selection of things to bring to you in the changing room. You pinched and pulled at the various fabrics, trying to get them to fit in a way that you found comfortable and flattering. Every so often you’d show some to your companion in the same way the other girls in the shop were showing their mothers. Sometimes she nodded, other times she looked absolutely disgusted.

Ten stores in and it’s clear that neither of you could maintain the momentum much longer. You grab the mouse’s hand before she sets foot in a businesswear store that looks far too serious for your interview. She looks at you questioningly and you gesture towards the food court.

“Dinner on me?” You ask, already walking towards the pizza place across the hall.

“Absolutely.”

Noelle finds a long table to perch on the end of while you go and buy enough food for the two of you to share. The food area is just as packed as the rest of the mall. It’s difficult to weave through all of the bodies to find your way back to her without dropping your pizza box.

Just as you see her through the crowd, someone scrapes their chair back into you.

It happens almost in slow motion.

You tip forwards, twisting to try and stop the pizza from falling to the floor, forgetting to shield yourself from the hard concrete that was quickly becoming closer. Bracing yourself for the impact, you tense up. Only for it to never come. A steadying arm is behind your back preventing you from hitting down hard and someone else is supporting your food to keep it upright.

“Are you okay Y/N?”

You glance up into the eyes of your saviour only to find one of Jimin’s mates holding you up. Another stands at his side, now holding your tray. Blushing wildly, you stand up and immediately begin apologising to the pair.

Yoongi glares after the person that had knocked you over in the first place, grumbling about a lack of manners. Namjoon smiles wide and hands your tray back to you.

“I’m good, thanks.” You avoid eye contact by dusting yourself off, despite never having touched the floor.

“It’s good to run into you again Y/N, Jimin was talking about you again last night. He says you have an interview for a job now?” He makes friendly conversation as they escort you back to Noelle.

When you reach the table, Noelle welcomes the men and invites them to sit with you. It is clear that she must know them well, not a surprise knowing how much Jimin gushes about them to complete strangers, let alone his colleagues and friends.

“Yeah, at some office downtown, it’s a receptionist job. Should be really great experience. I don’t really have a lot else on my resume."

“Any job is better than no job at the minute,” Yoongi grumbles pessimistically.

Namjoon jabs the grumpy Jackal in the ribs.

The three of them start a conversation about the last time they met and you are more than happy to listen as you munch on the pizza in front of you. It seems to have been some kind of fundraiser put on by the shelter, a casino night where they dressed up in fancy clothes and pretended to be Highrollers for the evening.

“Wouldn’t that be fun Y/N?” Noelle asks, waving a hand in front of your eyes.

Your mind runs away from you then. You find yourself distracted by images of the men in 007 tuxes, hair slicked back as they moved from game to game all evening. Jimin’s hair a flame in the muted room, Namjoon’s laugh echoing across the hall, and Yoongi making jokes with the bartender. It would seem that none of them had met Jungkook back then.

You stop chewing, a string of cheese still connecting you to the slice in your hand as you try to work out what they possibly could’ve asked you while you were zoned out.

“Oh, yeah that would be cool. I’ve never been to anything like that before.” You smile, trying to seem invested.

“We were talking about having another benefit like that one soon.” Yoongi supplies helpfully.

The only benefits you had been to were beyond dull. Always in a stuffy museum, with art that never had emotion behind it. Each ticket had cost more than an average person’s salary, and the food had been the most pretentious concoctions ever imagined. You loathed attending each one, a fact your husband knew.

He just sighed and repeated how you only needed to attend to be seen. He would promise that you wouldn’t stay to late, and each time you would be amongst the last of the guests as he laughed along with yet another boring old man’s recount of a hunting trip. Hunting trips were common among your ex-husband’s crowd, they never seemed to see the irony in having hybrids within their homes and then hunting regular animals for sport.

Jungkook gets very bored when he gets left alone. So bored he often ends up doing weird shit until one of his mates walks through the door. Today isn’t too bad. Yoongi and Namjoon said they weren’t going to be gone long, just to the mall to get some things that they had been running low on. An errand that always goes much faster when they don’t have Jungkook with them to get distracted every five minutes ( A much cheaper trip without him needing a little treat too).

The men stayed with you while you ate. You mostly listened to them while they talked, occasionally muttering assurances to demonstrate that you were actually listening to them this time. When you finished your meal, they said goodbye and headed in the opposite direction to you, back towards the parking lot as you and Noelle continued on your mission to find clothes.

______________

He wraps himself in Jimin’s favourite blanket and lies upside down on the sofa so his hair dangles to the floor. The TV doesn’t make much sense this way up, but it does provide a fun new perspective.

He barely hears the door open two hours later. The blood rushing around his ears almost blocks out the sound.

The older man tilts his head to look at Jungkook upside down.

“Kookie? What the fuck?” Namjoon asks coming into Jungkook’s eye line.

“I dunno, got comfy.” He shrugs.

“How many people am I going to have to save from the floor today?” Yoongi shakes his head, bending to help Jungkook up.

The motion throws off his balance and he slides onto the floor at his hyung’s feet.

He’d so badly wanted to like you for Jimin’s sake but you just made him so uncomfortable so quickly. The only predator he had ever warmed to quickly had been Namjoon, so he wasn’t expecting miracles, none of them were. But you had been so rude.

Jungkook looks at the pair confused as they share a knowing glance, a joke from today that he isn’t privy to. That’s when he smells it on them. Smells you on them. He can’t help the whine building in the back of his throat as he nuzzles frantically into Yoongi to change the scent back to his own.

He finishes scenting Yoongi and turns to immediately do the same to Namjoon. The bear accepts the affection gladly, cuddling the bunny in close and dragging him back to the sofa.

“We weren’t gone that long bunny.” He shushes.

Jungkook continues to bury himself into Namjoon’s neck, barely pausing to listen to the other speak.

“She really isn’t that bad Kookie, and she barely touched us, we can’t smell of her that strongly.” He sighs, pulling the rabbit’s hair to make him back away.

“Smell wrong, not my Joonie.” He reasons, earning an eye roll from Yoongi.

Jungkook whines again but concedes because he can no longer smell you on them. He hoped it would be a long time before he had to see you again, but Jimin and fate seemed to have other plans...

_____________

By the time you arrive back at the shelter, most of the day staff have gone home. Noelle heads straight down the corridor and into her dorm room to set her bags down. Instead, you collapse straight into a chair in the common room without really thinking, feet too tired to keep moving.

You’re sat for less than five minutes when you are tipped on to the floor with a bump.

“What is your fucking problem??” You growl, standing quickly and backing the lioness into a corner before she has a chance to sit down.

Even standing up straight with your teeth bared you have nothing on the other woman. Naturally a much bigger breed, you never stood a chance as she swung for you. Her claws connected with your cheek, not giving you the chance to duck. Immediately six other predators descend, separating you from her.

You press hard against the scratches, blood dripping over your fingers. The others take Lyra into another room, management following quickly behind.

You’d shocked yourself when you’d rounded on the other predator. Violence had never been an option you took, you had frowned upon other predators that resorted to violence before their words.

A hand is on your shoulder, guiding you back to sit down in the chair again. Tears sting at your eyes as you finally start to feel the pain of the wound. With cloudy vision, you can make out the flame red-hair in front of you. He reaches up and peels your hand away from your face.

“This is going to hurt Y/N.” He warns.

“Can I change rooms tonight?” You sniffle.

Something warm and wet is smoothed along your cheek, stinging as he cleans the blood away.

“There is no way you are staying here tonight Y/N.” Jimin says.

“Oh, is it because I started a fight? I get it, I’ll find somewhere else to stay... thanks for all the help though.”

You try not to let any more tears fall at the prospect of getting kicked out. He rest a hand on your shoulder as you go to stand, preventing you from going anywhere.

“That fight wasn’t your fault, you didn’t start that, you just tried to finish it. Lyra will be getting kicked out, that’s her third strike... But she has friends here and I want you to be safe. You are coming home with me.” He states more like it’s a fact than a request.

You start to protest, the idea once again sounding ludicrous. But then he presses his hand to your cheek again, and the pain is bad enough to have you second-guessing your judgement.

Masterlist

He dresses the wound on your face and disappears to make Namjoon aware of the new arrival while you pack your things back into your bag and get ready to leave.

Next

Series masterlist

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

how do you click into a characters ‘voice’ as well as you do? People are so consistently in characyer and I notice that as a unique standout of your writing

Advice for Writing Characters: Design, Arcs, and the Role of Plot

Warning: hella spoilers for my Doctor/Amy/Rory 'verse because that's what I'm using as examples for this writing breakdown of sorts.

First off, thank you so much for the compliment to my writing! I have worked so hard on my characterization over the years and it means a lot to hear that you liked it.

But onto the actual writing breakdown:

So I'm going to sound like every basic English teacher you've ever had to suffer through with this opening piece of advice, but it really is about practice making perfect. I wrote disastrous dialogue/characterization when I started out writing in 2014 (when I was 14). Looking back at my old characterization it's hot garbage. Dead awful.

But I have improved a lot over the years. A lot of that has to do with about my ability to sit down and re-watch episodes over and over again and find the right music to listen to, but a lot of it also has to do with the three things I always look to/think about when writing characters.

To be honest, I still have my weaknesses as a writer. I don't always like writing settings and I'm still improving on my action scenes and my intimacy scenes but my favorite things to write have always been a good extended metaphor and diving into character POVs. I write because I like exploring characters. There's a reason why the most popular additional tags on my ao3 account look like this:

I love writing character-driven stories. Plot comes as a secondary device to link the character moments for me and not vice-versa (though I'm not gonna lie, I can occasionally come up with a decent plot twist, ala the Master, Clara-River-Ytroswinasleen, or Bill/Clara reveals). Writing characters is about exploring what threads twist themselves together to compel the character/story forward, whether that be backstory, current stressors, or what their motivations are to go forward.

For example, with the Doctors it's easy to explain because they're divided by era. To talk about Eleven, you have backstory: the ENTIRETY of Ten's character arc hope from Rose -> guilt/grief from losing her -> Martha/Donna helping him believe in himself/find joy again -> grief from losing Donna -> Time Lord Victorious leading into Adelaide Kane/him finally doing one kind thing for Wilf. Then, as shown in the only good moment in Let's Kill Hitler, his guilt over everything he did to those three. Then you have current stressors: the sheer loneliness he feels after regenerating alone/isolating himself, the guilt he feels after "abandoning" Amy as a child/leading to Rory's death, and the ever-present knowledge he has with every companion that humans do have a tendency to die/leave him.

Backstory and current stressors tend to play off of each other to lead to future actions, aka: Eleven freaking out and assuming that Amy and Rory will leave him after the baby is born and trying to cut them loose before he can or later, after we establish the Martha&Jack&the Master of it all (and the guilt that he still feels after how Ten handled All That Shit), it makes sense that he might go a little Time Lord Victorious when you find out that the Master was behind River's kidnapping because the Doctor finally has a family to get protective over.

And this is all just from one character point of view! It's also about how characters bounce off of each other- my absolute most favorite part of writing. It's what creates the most interesting parts of the story. When you have Rory's desire for a family/desire to do-no-harm/loyalty hitting up against Amy's desire to keep her family safe/the established ferocity of her love/her willingness to face danger in the face and not blink hitting up against the Doctor's fury of a time lord/guilt over doing things wrong the last time/desire to make things right not just for Martha and Jack and himself, but for Amy and Rory and River, things are bound to get not just messy but satisfying when you have Rory look the Doctor in the eye and tell him that he can't take that choice out of people's hands in the end. That the Doctor has to give River and Amy the choice that the Doctor didn't give Martha and Jack regarding the Master before.

Characterization is as much about a satisfying arc as it is digging into a character's mindset. As much as I love writing "character studies," that's only half of the battle when it comes to writing. Yes, you need to know where your character's head is at. But you also need to understand where they were and where they are going. Learning to figure out a satisfying bend to that curve is one of the greatest tools in an author's toolbox. I am constantly aiming to create as satisfying an arc as I can for every character, and this is usually the bit that fumbles most writers. You can come up with the coolest character design and then make their arcs either boring (sadly the case with a lot of Thirteen's companions in canon) or unsatisfying as hell (the case with Rory, River, and Amy's canon character arcs) because you don't plan them out well enough or just start and stop them within a single episode (everything regarding Mel/River Song in Let's Kill Hitler is a fantastic example).

The great thing about fanfiction is that since there are no limits for number of words or length of installments, I can throw words on the page regarding insights I have and figure out the order or how/where they fall later. I can rearrange episodes and give myself plots to bounce off of to develop characters. Because this is where plot comes in: it can give you an opportunity to explore a character in not just how they see themselves, or how they react to each other, but how they react to being challenged by their circumstances. That's how you get great moments in this series like exploring Eleven/Thirteen's unresolved loneliness with the Planet Sanatorium arc or Amy figuring out how to stop the mummy because of her own experience with war or Rory responding to the poisonous hallucinations or Amy getting closure by Eleven popping up as the voice interface or Thirteen seeing Rose in the Solitract or Amy's slow Doctorification thanks to how she reacts to Solomon/the TARDIS-as-Idris/the mummy/the pocket universe in Hide/the prison break situation or Bill figuring out the flesh in the database. You can only go so far with character motivations/their relationships with each other when you don't see how they react to conflict/challenge/separation. You can, however, use the challenges to directly lead into character arcs.

As a final example of all three elements coming together (motivation/character design, character interaction, and plot as challenge), I'll use Thirteen/Amy/Rory's arc. You don't get Thirteen, Amy, and Rory making up at the New Year's wedding if you don't have the arc of trust between them. The Cybermen are used entirely and only as a device to show their characterization/development off as characters. When they first appear, you get a glimpse into how the hundred-year separation has affected Thirteen and how her anger/fear/protective instinct go just as deep as Eleven, if not further, but also how she isn't sure if she can trust Amy/Rory yet, while you also get to see Amy's faith in the Doctor contrasting Rory's doubt but also the nuances of his position (loving her but not trusting her because she has revealed that Eleven didn't trust them). This leads into the Chameleon Arch plot which gives you Bill (my beloved) but also a view into Rory's changing opinion, both Amy and Rory's own development and their ability to hold their own, and the fact that the Doctor trusts them with her life. Then we get It Takes You Away and the realization that the Doctor would stay with Amy and Rory over anything, even Rose, then the wedding scene (kisses! rings! comms! Dr. Pond!). But then the Judoon come back after the Cybermen issue, prompting the TARDIS crash/the multidoctor fic where you get a stark contrast between Eleven at his worst and Thirteen at her best (fantastic place to explore characterization) where you also get to see Rory finally get closure/see that that he really does trust Thirteen. Then Thirteen giving herself up to the Judoon to protect innocent people AND because for the first time in the entire series she completely and fully trusts Amy and Rory to save her. The Cybermen as a villain don't truly matter in the end, other than some really fun imagery and exploring a bit of the mind control angle/just how far Thirteen is willing to go for Amy and Rory. It's about how Thirteen running against them provides the structure of sorts for her, Amy, and Rory's developing characters (and, hell, Bill, for that matter, regarding the Chameleon Arch/prison break plot), just as the Master provided an obstacle/structure for Eleven/Amy/Rory working through their own arcs.

...Whoops. That was a lot of writing. I'm almost sorry for all of that. But I hope that the three-step process made sense! I also recommend reading analysises of characters (and for a show like Doctor Who, I read analysises from both pro-Moffat and Moffat-critical blogs, same as with Chibnall) and just rewatching the show! You don't necessarily have to take notes or anything, just kind of take in thoughts you might not have thought of otherwise! For example, I got a lot from @tenmartha, @orpheustwelve, and @variousqueerthings, all of whom had completely interesting and different takes on Eleven, Amy, and Rory as canon characters!

Hope this gave you a good view into the process or even some advice for your own writing, and I hope you continue to enjoy my writing! (Right now I'm currently working on a much shorter, five-chapter AU to the end of Season 3 where Riley from "42" travelled with the Doctor/Martha for the last six episodes of Season 3, using these same three rules to explore the growing dynamic between Ten, Martha, and Riley, if you're interested.)

Thanks once again for the compliment- the absolute greatest gift I can receive as an author is questions/compliments like that!

[mrakobulka]

I don’t normally share personal stuff on my socials as it makes me feel awkward talking about myself knowing people are here for my art, but I'm at a point where I need to let things off my chest and make some changes to how I go about my work. This is going to be a long rant.

I’ve been a commission artist for years and I cherish people trusting me with their characters and paying for my work. I set up rules for myself to ensure that I'm trustworthy, like prioritizing commissioned art over personal and completing each piece in a few weeks to a month. Despite having depression for several years, I’ve mostly managed to stick to those rules and felt proud about it, but it’s been increasingly hard to do so in the last few years due to my country’s politics and aggression. It became even harder now when personal matters got in the mix as well

Last October my grandpa suffered a stroke, which led to him passing in December. As if that wasn’t enough grief, around the time of his funeral I also found out that Marusya - my loyal feline companion for the last 19 years - is suffering from kidney failure. As I began adjusting to the new rhythm of life dictated by her condition, the universal cat distribution system decided not to wait for her passing and threw Anfisa my way - a stray that hid in the common hall of my apartment complex while temperatures outside went as low as -16C.

I know taking another pet when already struggling with a sick senior cat wasn’t the smartest move, but at first I planned to find Anfisa’s old owners or get her new ones. Unfortunately, the stray problem in my city is huge and I ended up keeping her as I couldn’t throw her back into the street. While I understood that taking care of a stray would bring more vet bills into my life, I felt confident at the time that I was financially able to handle it, but Anfisa brought with her a surprise pregnancy that I had to eliminate to avoid adding to the stray problem. In order to do that I had to dig into my savings.

Even though I still manage to juggle vet bills and my basic necessities, the last few months have been incredibly draining for me financially, mentally and physically. Taking care of my cats’ health, I’ve completely neglected my own and ended up having to deal with several medical issues that surfaced as a result of stress. On top of that, I’ve also completely neglected the need to create for my personal enjoyment, which has led to my mental health worsening as well. I felt like I couldn’t afford drawing for myself as vet bills kept piling up and I needed to take more and more work to manage while sticking to my rules and keeping my commissioners satisfied. 

I’m sharing all of this just to explain my current situation and the mindset I ended up being stuck in. I don’t want anyone to feel bad for giving me work as I wouldn’t be able to make it this far without the support you give me <3 Still, I realized that my own relationship with my art and my workflow became detrimental to my physical and mental health and, if anything, damaged my ability to complete commissioned work in time more than helping it. Add to that the infestation of genAI that’s been happening recently and the horrible algorithms killing engagement that slowly destroy my motivation to share my art at all (some of you might have noticed that I barely post on twitter now and completely neglect my other platforms).

With all that said, all I want to do is let people know that my commissioned work will be taking longer than usual to be completed for the foreseeable future as I don’t want to force myself to work on art in the moments when I’m struggling with either physical pain or mental turmoil. I would also like to ask you to be understanding if you see me post personal art, make adopts or take more commissioned work before yours is completed. Unfortunately my current circumstances demand emergency funds every now and then and I can’t help it + I need to take a breather every now and then. All I can promise is that I’ll never bite more than I can chew and will deliver everything I owe in due time.

I know this was a long read, but thank you if you stuck till the end and I hope my ranting won’t turn you off my artwork : ‘ D 

And to add some positivity to my rant, here's cat tax:

Calico one is Marusya and white/grey one is Anfisa

[notquiteapex]

So, how's the JukeBox development coming along? Well, it sure is coming, I promise.

In case you don't know what a JukeBox is, it's a little hotkey device I'm building! I originally made this to assist with my endeavors in streaming, but it turns out having extra keys is very useful for a lot of things! Whether it be hotkeys for quickly running macros via AutoHotKey, managing your Discord audio settings, playing funny sounds with VoiceMod, switching tools in your favorite art program like Paint Tool SAI, or managing OBS like I do. It's a very powerful device, and all it does is act like a keyboard with the F13-F24 keys. I bet you didn't even know there was more than the F1-F12 keys, am I right?

About a year ago, I said I would begin selling these soon. That was a bit of a lie, fortunately I am very good at those. That last bit was also a lie, in case you couldn't tell. I got the opportunity to work on the JukeBox as part of an independent study for college credit, so I took a lot of time to plan and rethink the product. That part wasn't a lie The result is the new V5 board!

Ok so this isn't the actual V5 board yet.

I decided to completely change up what makes up a JukeBox. I decided to use an RP2040 chip, which is used to power a Raspberry Pi Pico. I used a Pico board, along with the old JukeBox V4 boards, an RGB LED ring, and an OLED screen to build my ideal V5 prototype. The result is the same JukeBox known and loved but with some added features, like reactive lighting and a screen to display fun graphics and info!

This is the finalized board, it's design has been shipped off to manufacturing, and will hopefully arrive right at the start of the new year. I'm paying a lot of money for just 10 of these things! I can't wait.

The plan is to sell 3 versions of the board, a basic variant (keyboard only), an RGB variant, and an RGB plus screen variant. Prices are still being determined, but they will be higher than previously anticipated due to rising material costs. The goal is to keep the basic variant at $25 to maintain affordability. You will also be able to choose what kinds of keys you want, be it Cherry MX Blues or Kailh Choc Whites.

I'm working on the final casing. It'll be a 3D printed shell with some nice M2.5 nuts and bolts. It'll also be in a mostly-opaque white so the RGB looks good shining through. The legs are also completely optional, both the case and the legs will have nice rubber feet to keep the board steady. The keycaps will be "relegendable", meaning you'll be able to stick a piece of paper in them with whatever you want on them. You get everything seen here, plus a USB-C cable, and my deepest gratitude. Maybe some day you'll get to have a JukeBox in atomic purple instead of a basic white!

The best part about it all is that you don't need to install any drivers! The keyboard component is always guaranteed to work on any computer that supports USB, and most usually do (hopefully). The screen and RGB won't work without a companion app, sadly, but I'm working hard to make it painless to setup and use, near plug-and-play. I've been writing it in Rust while working on the board, and it will support Windows and Linux without much issue.

Lastly, the entire project is going to be open source! The code will be under an open license, and all the physical parts will be usable under a Creative Commons license (CC BY-NC-SA). I won't allow people to just up and sell the boards without modification, but if someone wants to make and sell their own variant I'd be more than happy to allow it if they ask. Devices like these should be cheap and accessible for everyone.

Hopefully I'll start selling these on my Ko-fi before Q2 of 2024. See you then!

[adventure-showdown]

What has been nominated so far

Note, just because something has been nominated, and so is listed here, does not mean it will be included, I will include the absolute most I can but if I can't find it on TARDIS wiki its not getting in because i can't verify its a piece of who media

Also note, there might be some mistakes on here, I'm copying the nominations across directly, there might be some stories that are listed twice without me realising, because of alternate titles, or I just didn't spot it, or stuff that was spelt wrong when it was nominated, feel free to tell me

I've done my best to spot when nominations of a series were intended to enter the individual parts rather than the series as a unit, if I've got this wrong let me know and I will fix it. (if a story is on one line its currently being considered as a unit)

Final note, a couple of things got nominated under multiple mediums, usually full length TV story and minisode, so if you can't find your nomination, maybe check one of the other mediums

You can make further nominations here, there are basically no limits so long as its set in the Whoniverse (or its about Doctor Who, eg An Adventure in Space and Time or The 5 (ish) Doctors Reboot)

the list is under the cut (I will endeavour to keep it up to date)

Audio

Main Range

The Marian Conspiracy

The Apocalyse Element

The Shadow of the Scourge

The Holy Terror

Storm Warning

Minuet in Hell

Loups-Garoux

The Chimes of Midnight

Seasons of Fear

The Time of the Daleks

Jubilee

Neverland

Spare Parts

Creatures of Beauty

Doctor Who and the Pirates

Omega

Master (Main Range 49)

Zagreus

Scherzo

The Natural History of Fear

Arrangements for War

The Harvest

Faith Stealer

Caerdroia

Terror Firma

Singularity

Other Lives

The Kingmaker

The Girl Who Never Was

The Condemned

The Doomwood Curse

The Magic Mousetrap

The Company of Friends: Benny's Story

The Company of Friends: Fitz's Stroy

The Company of Friends: Izzy's Story

The Company of Friends: Mary's Story

A Death in the Family

Robophobia

The Silver Turk

1963: The Assassination Games

The Widow's Assassin

Dalek Soul

The Grey Man of the Mountain

The Eighth Doctor Adventures

The Blood of the Daleks

Horror of Glam Rock

Immortal Beloved

Phobos

No More Lies

Human Resources

To the Death

Doom Coalition

The Eleven

The Red Lady

The Galileo Trap

The Gift

The Sonomancer

Absent Friends

The Eighth Piece

The Doomsday Chronometer

The Crucible of Souls

Ship in a Bottle

Songs of Love

The Side of the Angels

Stop the Clock

Ravenous

Escape from Kaldor

Better Watch Out/Fairytale in Salzburg

Companion Piece

Day of the Master

Stranded

Stranded as a Whole (I think, I couldn't find a story called Stranded)

UNIT Dating

What Lies Inside

Paradox of the Daleks

Connections

Here Lies Drax

The Love Vampires

Albie's Angels

Special Releases

Living Legend

Out of Time

Out of Time (individual story)

Wink

The Companion Chronicles

Solitaire

Peri and the Piscon Paradox

The Cold Equations

The Last Post

The Scorchies

The Tenth Doctor Adventures

Death and the Queen

The Sword of the Chevalier

No Place

The Creeping Death

The Tenth Doctor and River Song

Expiry Dating

Ghosts

Once and Future

The Martian Invasion of Planetoid 50

The Diary of River Song

The Bekdel Test

The Lost Stories

The Queen of Time

Paradise 5

The Elite

Short Trips

I am the Master

Forever Fallen

A Full Life

Bernice Summerfield

Oh No It Isn't

The Faction Paradox Protocols

The Eleven Day Empire/The Shadow Play

Torchwood

The Last Beacon

Serenity

Rhys and Ianto's Excellent Barbecue

Gallifrey

Square One

First Days of Phaidon

Gallifrey IV

Warfare

Unity

Missy

A Spoonful of Mayhem

The Lumiat

Too Many Masters

The Paternoster Gang: Heritage

The Cars That Ate London!

A Photograph to Remember

Destiny of the Doctor

Smoke and Mirrors

Novel Adaptations

Nightshade

Fifth Doctor Box Set

Psychodrome

Iterations of I

Psychodrome

Iterations of I

Counter-Measures

The Fifth Citadel

The Forgotten Village

Peshka

The Concrete Cage

The New Counter Measures

Troubled Waters

The Hollow King

The Eighth of March

Inside Every Warrior

Comics

TV Comic

Time in Reverse

Doctor Who: The Eleventh Doctor

Space in Dimension Relative and Time

Doctor Who: The Thirteenth Doctor

Old Friends

Doctor Who Magazine

The Star Beast

Voyager

The World Shapers

Ground Zero

The Flood

The Fallen

The Land of Happy Endings

Direct to Home Media Films

PROBE

PROBE: The Zero Imperative

PROBE: The Devil of Winterborne

PROBE: Unnatural Selection

PROBE: Ghosts of Winterborne

PROBE: When to Die

The Stranger

The Stranger: Summoned by Shadows

The Stranger: More than a Messiah

The Stranger: In Memory Alone

The Stranger: The Terror Game

The Stranger: Breach of the Peace

The Stranger: Eye of the Beholder

Other

Downtime

Shada (1992) - version with linking narration

Sil and the Devil Seeds of Arodor

Wartime

K9 (spinoff series)

Regeneration/Liberation/The Korven

The Bounty Hunter

Sirens of Ceres

Fear Itself

The Fall of the House of Gryffen

Jays of Orthrus

Dream-Eaters

Curse of Anubis

Oroborus

Alien Avatar

Aeolian

The Last Oak Tree

Black Hunger

The Cambridge Spy

Lost Library of Ukko

Mutant Copper

The Custodians

Taphony and the Time Loop

Robot Gladiators

Mind Snap/Angel of the North/The Last Precinct/Hounds of the Korven/The Eclipse of the Korven

Minisodes

A Fix with Sontarans

Born Again

Clara and the TARDIS

Dimensions in Time

Emperor of the Daleks (More than 30 Years in the TARDIS)

famine appeal 1986

Merry Christmas Doctor Who

P.S.

Pond Life

Rain Gods

Space/Time

Tardisodes

The Battle of Demons Run: Two Days Later

The Bells of Saint John: A Prequel

The Doctor's Meditation

The Great Detective

The Last Day

The Naked Truth

The Shrink

Time Crash

Wall's Sky Ray lollies advertisment

Seret Message from the Time Lords (Weetabix advert)

Novels & Short Stories

Short Stories and Short Story Collections

12 Doctors, 12 Stories

Grey Matter

Lepidoptery for Beginners

Something Borrowed

Nothing at the End of the Lane

The Room With All the Doors

Standalone

Harvest of Time

Scratchman

The Stranger

Engines of War

The Eighth Doctor Adventures

Vampire Science

Alien Bodies

Seeing I

The Scarlet Empress

Unnatural History

Interference

The Blue Angel

The Burning

The Turing Test

The Year of Intelligent Tigers

The City of the Dead

The Adventuress of Henrietta Street

Mad Dogs and Englishmen

Anachrophobia

The Book of the Still

The Crooked World

Camera Obscura

The Gallifrey Chronicles

The Past Doctor Adventures

Divided Loyalties

Fear of the Dark

Fear Itself

Novelisations

Doctor Who and Shada (fan novelisation)

Virgin New Adventures

The Left-Handed Hummingbird

Human Nature

Lungbarrow

Faction Paradox

The Book of War

This Town Will Never Let Us Go

Of the City of the Saved

The New Series Adventures

The Blood Cell

Other

Step Into the 80s!/On Through the 80's! (adverts)

Ronald Rat continuity announcement

Zygon: When Being you Just isn't Enough (Porno)

The Man From MI5

The Infinite Quest

Dooms Day hour 1

Songs

Doctor in Distress

Doctorin' the TARDIS by the Timelords

I'm gonna Spend my Christmas with a Dalek

TV (this category is less about if it was televised and more about the length to distinguish it from minisodes)

Dreamland

Search Out Space

Webcasts

Real Time

Shada (2 nominations)

[thetarttfuldickhead]

Ohhhh I’d love to hear more about TL post-canon Jamie is a prick 👀

Bless you, dear heart, because I’m SO EXCITED to talk about it!

So, the very basic premise is that Jamie shows up at Nelson Road like it’s 2020, full prick mode and mean with it, leaving everyone slightly shell-shocked and unsure of what to do because they'd forgotten just how nasty Jamie can get when he wants to be, and have no idea how to deal with it. They do fully and from the start get that something is wrong, that something must have happened, and the fic is basically Roy sorting that (and Jamie) out. It ticks a lot of boxes for me – Jamie being a prick, difficult stuff resurfacing (for Jamie and for Roy), emotional hurt/comfort, Roy being his very best self, cuddles, tiny bit of scolding, but ultimately everyone being there for Jamie when he needs them.

The actual fic is very general audiences, and can be read as platonic or as pre-relationship, but I have a vague idea for a slightly kinkier OT3 follow-up or coda. We’ll see. Get the first bit written first. (I started plotting this fic very early in season 3, and admittedly it’s a little harder to see Jamie going full prick now, because he was so very good for the whole season, but my heart is set on the idea, so we’ll make do.)

In some ways I guess it’ll serve as a companion piece, or a counterpoint, to L st in Tr nsl tion, It seems Roy or Jamie acting up in the dressing room and the other taking it in stride and taking care of them is just something very near and dear to my heart. Also, I’ve had Roy be oblivious and Jamie (as) reasonable (as he ever gets) for the last few things I’ve written, and it’s just time to switch it up a bit.

[the-larxist-manifesto]

GameGirl31 ~ Dr. Mario

It's Dr. Mario time. We all know it. We've all played it (even if you don't remember how or why). We all are a little more than confused by its existence.

Let me briefly tell my story with Dr. Mario. When I was just a girl—at a time where my only video games were whatever random N64 and PS1 games my parents owned—I really looked forward to the occasional visit to my gamer aunt and uncle's house. Having extended family who are into video games is just the coolest feeling as a child, when all other grown-ups do only boring stuff like reading and fishing trips. During one fateful day out with my aunt, I was gifted my very own Nintendo DS Lite—the first console I felt was truly mine. An amazing feature of my silver DS, I would come to find, was backwards compatibility with GameBoy Advance games! And one of the first games I received to test it out was a little combo cartridge called Dr. Mario & Puzzle League

My actual childhood Dr. Mario & Puzzle League cartridge! (alongside my physical copy of GB Dr. Mario :p)

I'll be blunt here: I hated Dr. Mario. Its companion, Puzzle League, was (excuse my pun) leagues better, offering tons of single player puzzles, customization options, and a catchy as hell soundtrack—in addition to its multiplayer connectivity! Dr. Mario, sadly, only contained a couple of variations on endless mode; not much fun to be had for a child with no link cable to play with friends. Dr. Mario seemed too... simple. Only 3 colors? All you do is clear viruses? Nah, I was above this game.

And that was the last time I ever played Dr. Mario.

UNTIL NOW.

~Earning my PhD~

I began playing this game with the standard GameGirl procedure; playing a few rounds to get accustomed to the new environment, checking out the manual, conducting a small amount of personal research, and then setting goals to beat the game. The manual offered the usual gallery of fun official art and basic tutorial, but it didn't contain anything I didn't already know. That is, except one interesting detail that caught my attention.

Let me ask you a question that was at the forefront of my mind at this time: how do I "beat" Dr. Mario? An endless, arcade-style puzzle game with no story? The manual, Dr. Mario himself, had the answer.

Pay special attention to the second bullet point. I'll see "something special?" It's so ambiguous yet so enticing, and with such a difficult condition to discover whatever it was, I couldn't hold myself back. I knew that my destiny was to complete the game on the highest difficulty on the highest speed setting.

To do this, I put about 10 hours of work into practicing this game; matching colors, creating combos, managing junk pills, refining my reflexes, always looking at the next piece coming up, and then the one after that. I learned some very valuable techniques for getting far in this game. Always having at least one column available with each of the three colors is extremely helpful when you're given a pill (or, when you're unlucky, three or four in a row) of a color that simply does not match the current trouble virus. You must put care into placing each and every pill. You must be cunning to attack viruses from above, below, from the sides, or even a falling combo. You must be dexterous on the higher speeds, shifting pills across the bottle and rotating it twice in less than a second.

When I finally accomplished my first milestone, I was met with a scene I'd never witnessed before. A tranquil, wide open ocean floor...

The viruses sit there, watching the occasional sea life drift by. The sea appears so lonely...

~Dr. Mario master~

Yes, my goals for this game primarily entailed clearing levels at the highest difficulty. Specifically, I considered the game "beaten" if I cleared MED speed levels 5, 10, 15, and 20, and I considered it "100% completed" if I cleared HI speed levels 5, 10, 15, and 20. But what about the actual game? Was it fun? Worth becoming so competent at playing?

Unsurprisingly, this is the simplest and shortest GB title yet. I placed it here in the challenge as sort of a break from larger adventures, after all. The visuals are quite simple; beyond the initial gag of Mario dressed up in a lab coat, there isn't much to look at. The viruses do a funny little dance at the bottom of the screen, then get knocked over and blipped out of existence as you clear them. The game has a total of 6 unique songs: one for mode select, the iconic Fever and Chill that you may choose for gameplay, jingles for winning in multiplayer or setting up a combo of four or more, and then a special song for the special something after clearing one of the four MED or HI speed levels. The songs will easily get stuck in your head, and the special song was well worth earning each time I arrived at the bottom of the infested sea. The blips and bloops of gameplay will sometimes match up PERFECTLY with the gameplay themes; its like the composition is playing together with you, as well as being solid tunes that have been hummed by fans and remade by Nintendo for decades to come. They did a good job with the sound design, overall!

I guess my biggest gripe is... the overall concept of Dr. Mario? I still find it a bit too simple, even after all this time. There aren't many reasons to come back to it, if you aren't attempting the insane feat of 100% completion. The main draw of this game is the multiplayer and hoping that the satisfying falling-block match-4 formula keeps players hooked long enough to keep coming back when bored. But sadly, there isn't much versatility with the mechanics. Where other puzzle games contain a higher variety of pieces (Tetris), or greater combo opportunity (Puyo Puyo), or slicker visuals (Meteos), or some other wacky gimmick to keep you continuously exploring (Meteos again)... Dr. Mario falls short of a cure-all for boredom.

For the sake of this challenge, I did try out the multiplayer with a friend! A very cool feature of the NSO retro games is being able to connect with friends online, and play as if you were sitting across from each other with a link cable! In this game, you and your competitor (did you know that's what COM stands for? Competitor? Not "computer," as I always thought) race to clear the bottle of viruses before the other. The multiplayer does contain some unique visuals, including an indicator for how many remaining viruses your competitor needs to clear or how many wins you've accumulated (best three out of five).

Shoutouts to @br00f for playing with me! She beat me in a best of five that went all the way to game 5... and I have to call her Dr. Broof from now on...

~Conclusion~

In a vacuum, Dr. Mario is a well-made, fun, fast-paced puzzle game with some cool cutscenes and music to discover if you become skilled enough. Compared to other puzzle games, I find it a bit lacking in single-player content. I also think that the concept is a bit bare-bones, especially in this first iteration. Not much to accomplish beyond basic combos and managing three colors; it's almost too simple even for a casual player (as we witnessed in the Dr. Mario & Puzzle League anecdote).

Granted, I've never played the newer iterations of Dr. Mario. Maybe they've come up with more ways to shake up the formula? I won't be pursuing it anytime soon, I'm afraid; Dr. Mario just isn't for me. I can acknowledge it as a very important and solid GB title, worthy of being a member of the NSO library. That's about it.

Recommend? Sure, try it. It's probably as good as any other version of Dr. Mario

Oh, and I did manage to 100% complete the game! Check it out!

Look! All the viruses have been cleared away, the ocean flows freely with life once again~

[herearedragons]

fanfic writer ask meme!!! B and M :)

B:  What was the first fandom you read fic in?  Which was the first you wrote fic for?

for reading, pretty sure it was Hetalia (I have come across fanfiction before but pretty sure this was the first fandom I actively sought out fanfiction of), and writing...... for properly FandomTM writing, it was one (1) attempt at backstory for my Skyrim player character and then Dragon Age. technically there was fic-adjacent writing I did before this, but that was more me appropriating pieces of media with a friend rather than Participating In Fandom. like I wrote fic about gijinkas (human versions) of the plants vs. zombies plants and transformers ocs (despite not being in the transformers fandom) that didn't get published anywhere because it was for the one (1) other person who knew what the heck I was talking about. I don't really think about those as me doing fanfiction because the point wasn't really to interact with the fandom, I was kind of just using a random piece of media as building blocks for an original story, but technically it is also fic

M: What’s the weirdest AU scenario you’ve ever come up with?  Did it turn into a story?

....after some introspection, I think I literally only make weird AUs? like I haven't done a single classic soulmate AU or a role swap AU or anything like that. no. it's all "what if all four of my Inquisitors were 19th century people investigating a paranormal horror mystery that then directly caused that universe's version of the Conclave explosion" (the literal plot of The Breach, my WIP longfic that's going to be one year old in a couple of months)

(update: okay actually. I do have a decent amount of normal AUs that are basically "what if my video game blorbo but with a slightly different backstory". like Selene's companion au. also some genre swaps and the classic "putting blorbo from one piece of media into another piece of media")

other highlights include:

what if my Lavellan was a cyborg in a cyberpunk setting and his cybernetic implants were haunted by Mythal (shoutout to sorrow.cy, which is a thing I wrote and posted on AO3 a couple years ago and then deleted. reposted on this blog for archival purposes though)

what if Solas was a cosmic horror entity (shoutout to The Dread One, which is a thing that exists on my AO3 Right Now)

what if the red lyrium future from In Hushed Whispers was a The Last Of Us-esque apocalypse (a short fic I also wrote a couple years ago and deleted, and, tragically, it did not get archived anywhere so I wasn't able to get it back. the concept was that it's a modern world but red lyrium is growing everywhere and red lyrium dust is in the air so you have to protect yourself both from breathing it and from hearing the song, and it had the Valo-Kas as a group of survivors. rip to that fic, it was a good one)