#my body refuses to perform any tasks at all

[letters-from-dekarios]

Following up from this letter. A short insight into Ollie is here.

[Two missives are handed to Gale during a lecture at Blackstaff Academy by his wife's imp familiar, called Dreth... who cares not a whit at the interruption he has caused. (Dreth and Gale are... antagonistic allies).]

Missive # 1

For the eyes of Professor Gale Dekarios School of Illusion Blackstaff Academy On behalf of Oleandra Dekarios

Ser Dekarios,

I am writing this letter on behalf of my adventuring companion, who has mentioned several times that you are to be informed if anything should befall her during our adventures.

Before you begin to worry overmuch, she says that she is, and I quote, "fine, and anyone who tells him differently will be sent to their gods with all haste".

In the interest of truthfulness, and at the risk of my person, I must inform you that Lady Dekarios was gravely injured in our latest delve into the bowels of the glaciers north of the Spine of the World. She served her role admirably, taking several blows meant for our divine healer, who by your wife's grace was able to survive and keep the rest of us on our feet and fighting to ultimately overcome the latest danger that permeates this forbidden space. It is by Lathander's light that your wife was returned to us, although she remains in a fragile physical state.

I assume you know that if she were to read the above sentence, that she would inform me that I "know not the meaning of fragile" and she would be ultimately too happy to "demonstrate on my femurs". Nevertheless, it is the truth, as spells as complex as Raise Dead do tend to require physical rehabilitation in the days afterwards.

As for our quest, Lady Dekarios continues to remind us that we have not yet accomplished our tasks for this delve, and she refuses to rest topside despite her injuries. We have persuaded her to rest at least long enough for her energy to be recovered. Brother Cedric has assured me that the ritual was performed without a hitch, which means we have less than a ten-day before she compels us back towards whatever lies in store.

If I may be frank, Ser Dekarios, I fear you of all people best understand her tendency to overextend herself, and I beg that you send word to any allies you may have in the region to come to our aid --- not for the sake of the mission, you understand, I believe that we have that well in hand. Instead I implore you for the sake of my companion's own well being. I will never forgive myself if her actions to protect my beloved Cedric cost you your wife.

With the utmost gratitude, Lord Petris Blackway of Luskan Servant of Umberlee

Missive # 2

Beloved, My moon and stars, Love and light of my life, My best friend through this life and the next, Wizard not only of Waterdeep but also of my heart, My reason for being and everything that is good and beautiful in this world,

I am fine.

Dreth wouldn't give me Lord Busy-body's letter so I am sending my own. Please feel free to deal with the impish little shit as you see fit.

I. Am. Fine.

Your dearest Ollie, who is very much fine and who is very much looking forward to never hearing the name "Petris Blackway of Luskan" ever again.

Sweet Ollie,

I do sincerely doubt that you are “fine”. If you were fine, these letters would not have been delivered in such haste in the mid-portion of a lecture. Nevermind, I believe my students found the delivery entertaining despite their harrowing contents.

I have arranged some time with my higher-ups. I shall be heading north to you within the day you receive this letter. Worry naught, my love, I shall not make the journey alone! Tara has elected to join me, for the sake of making sure I do not find any mysterious tomes or get abducted again. With a few spells and the help of travel sigils, it won’t take me long to find you.

Rest assured, I won’t stay for long. If I continued with you on your journey I fear you’d put my head on a stick! I am just arriving with some medicinal items and my love for a few days, then I shall return home.

You worry me at times with your everlasting adventurous spirit. You’d believe saving the world once would quench your thirst for investigation for lifetimes to come, but your physical adventure is akin to my literary indulgences and I cannot fault you for that. That does not prevent the gray hairs from growing whenever I think too hard of whatever you may be facing.

Aside from myself, I have sent word to some companions in the area you are in. They shall arrive to check on you much sooner than I, and provide a sufficient solution to any magical needs you or your allies may have. You can call me whatever names you deem fit for my precautions when you see me in a few days.

And, by the gods my dear, do stop threatening the imp. You’ve lost enough allies in this world, and I do not think punishment suffices for the creature that was only following your instruction. Perhaps you hit your head and forgot that you told him to notify me if you befall some sort of sickness or injury? I adore you, my love, I truly do, but try to not break the bones of your familiar.

My sweetest Ollie… you know I rarely have the words for your bravery. Every day, you amaze me with your self-sacrificing spirit. Without your acknowledgement of this fact of your life, you would not be so ready to help others. It is a point I have always admired of you. Let the others care for you, for once. You need not always be a provider, you can be provided for, if you let them. If you let me.

I adore you to the ends of this world and back through the Nine Hells. Do not overextend yourself too much, my dear. I shall arrive soon to tend to you. In the meantime, let the others help you. Or so help me gods I’ll incapacitate you myself and force you to return to Waterdeep before you can finish your journey.

With all the love a man can have,

𝑮𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒌𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒔

text reads: gale dekarios

[whimizera-me]

i've been feeling so drained, physically and emotionally so much more than usual, for the past 1 almost 2 months. I have to go through 4 flights of stairs to get to my classes multiple times to get to my classes, i dont know anyone in my classes, and i've done 30+ hws in the past 3 weeks already, and even more tests next week.

I can't even see my old friends anymore, and there's too much work to do I can't even go play with my other cat. It's physically impossible for me to do any tasks anymore. The four flights of stairs are a death sentence towards me, even walking a short distance exhaust me already. My friends messaging me in between classes are literally keeping me going for the most part and I can't even meet them irl.

I have to do so many social work out of my comfort and i don't even know this people, it would be fine if they were decent it it was really necessary but at this point it feels like they mess everything up for me on purpose. Everything was so nice last school year, it was my best ever, now im stuck with people i hate in a new area.

I have so much work to do other than homework and other in school aswell. I need to prepare for my hilton performance, I have to practice the t sax, I have out of school things to do aswell, and in home chores.

Im so drained that I can't even do my hobbies happily anymore. if I cant make art, draw, crochet, sing, or play my saxophone with emotion it's no use, it's not even art anymore at this point. I've lost interest in almost everything.

I haven't been eating a lot. I haven't been feeling hungry in a long time properly, I haven't been getting the proper sleep and I'm always so tired, even then when I do get nice sleep I still feel tired. I feel fatigued all the time even more. My health feels like it's been deteriorating even worse than usual for the past year. I can't run like I used to, I can do exercises and other physical activities energetically as much as before, it's horrible. I'm not even old yet, I feel like I'm doing something wrong.

I just wanna lay down and stay there forever.

At least i have my friends. Even if it's not irl. It's a blessing really.

There's still the ocean though. I really like the ocean, I really like going to the aquarium, it's been one of the best highlights of my life so far. The ocean's everything to me right now, I wish someone can take me to the aquarium again, i love it there. I really do. I wish I could live in the ocean.

[fangsyouverymuch01]

Just friends

Summery: The hero of Baldur's Gate greatest battlefield is now drunkenly returning home from the tavern because your connection to the arcane world is dying, and it has been for months. Adding to it, is your unresolved feelings from a certain vampire you've sworn to forget.

Rolan and Lia, aiding you in your search for answers, are determined to divert your mind from troubles. Unbeknownst to you, this night is destined to change everything.

Pairing: Astarion x f!tav, Astarion x f!reader , Rolan x reader

Warnings: Fightning, sort of depressed reader, drinking, Astarion being a prick

Tags: Slow burn, friends to lovers

Note: This took way too long to write, and tbh I'm scared to publish it. Had a hard time coming up with a plot that would make sense (and yes this is the underdark/menzoberranzan fic)

Nevertheless, hope you enjoy and stick around for more parts in the future.

In front of you is an array of literature varying from books, scrolls and notes. Just like yesterday and the day before that. Picking up yet another scroll and unrolling it, the words painted on it turns into a blur. Arcane symbols dance before your eyes but the contents of the page escapes your fleeting mind and it drifts to past memories of Moonrise Towers. 

“...And all I had to do was not fall for you… Which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart,” he pauses, searching for the right words to continue. “You’re incredible. You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”

Stunned by his confession, your own voice momentarily failed you. The Elf spoke again, revealing a truth that cut through your heart like a blade.“Being close to someone - any kind of intimacy - was something I performed to lure people back for him.”

Astarion further explains his train of thought, you could see his mouth moving but not a word reached your ears. Sadness, confusion, happiness and anger; the emotions mixed and collided within you. Was your relationship built on lies? Had you somehow forced him to sleep with you? It was all so much.

“I don't know how else to be with someone, No matter how much I’d like to.” 

You’d decided to remain just friends, and it had felt like the right choice. Liberating even, seeing Asterion grow into a person no longer controlled by fear. But now, you wallowed in selfishness due to your aching heart. Now it is the thing that keeps you from focusing on the task ahead. Now it is the thing keeping your from nights embrace, your body twisting and turning when the moon shone through the curtains. Now it is the numb feeling whilst faceless men sing your name between your legs. The decision, made with the intention of preserving your friendship, now felt as liberating as a chain strung to your neck. 

Moreover, you haven't seen him in weeks -  or could it be months? The passage of time blurs and certainly eludes you. Yet, effortlessly, his image flits into your head - bouncy white curls, piercing crimson eyes, a sharp nose and that godsdamn smirk. Interchangeable in your memory - forever young - he remains a vivid specter that refuses to fade.

Breaking your train of thought, there is a tap on your shoulder, a figure crouching over you to peer at the discoveries revealed in the scroll. 

“Found anything of interest?” Rolan spoke, eyeing you from above. 

“Ehm no, just lost in thought.” you replied, attempting to shake off the lingering memories that had clouded your focus. 

“Well, neither have I.” he puffed out a breath of air, “My best bet is to return to the House of Grief for more answers so I could study the mirror you spoke off.”

“I’m not sure they’d warmly welcome me back after my latest visit.” you let out a strained chuckle, struck by a memory of  Viconas lifeless person as Shadowhearts struck the merciless final blow to her chest. 

Since your time in the House of Grief, your bond with magic has slowly dwindled. The once-familiar currents of arcane energy now seemed distant. Magic had been an extension of you, and its absence felt akin to a cruel mutilation and you were desperate to feel magic coursing through your veins once more. Your desperation had led you here - Sorcerous Sundries, for any clue or hope that you might become whole again.

"Anyhow, have you heard from Gale yet?" you inquired, seeking a distraction from your thoughts.

"He deemed Waterdeep fruitless in our search and should be arranging plans to continue in Neverwinter as we speak," Rolan replied, his eyes pacing the floorboards beneath him. "Maybe we should pause our search for today; the sun is setting, and you, my friend, are in desperate need of a drink." His suggestion hung in the air, a respite offered amidst your futile search for answers. 

You had no energy to protest, you truly wanted to go, you really did. But what you needed was to dive into the mountains of untouched texts sprawled in a ring in front of you. 

Lazily tracing the arcane figures, partly lost in deliberation you answer “Thank you for the offer but I shouldn’t, you go and I’ll stay here.”

"Come on, just one drink. It won't solve all our problems, but it might provide a momentary escape," he insisted, recognizing the heaviness in your gaze. "We can resume our search tomorrow with clearer minds. Trust me, it's what you need right now."

A defeated sign escapes your lips “Fine, one drink but no more than that”. 

Laying a victorious touch on your arm, the tiefling grinned, "That's the spirit!" Helping you up, he proceeded, "The Elf Song in an hour; I need to run something by Lia first." With determined steps, he led you away from your search for answers in the pile of books. 

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

The warm light emanating from the Elfsongs' painted windows cast a glow over your figure as you linger outside the bustling door. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses weave together, that should beckon you inside but it doesn't. Nothing seems to pique your interest these days. The hero of Baldurs Gate was but a mere shell of what bards sang about and the thought of being recognized, of eyes filled with anticipation that lingers for extraordinary tales to be told - you can't stand it. 

Adding to your dread, are the invasive questions about your companions - about Astarion. Head spinning and lips slowly drooping to frown, you instinctively recoil from the entrance. 

With a heavy sigh, you reach into your bag, fingers wrapping around a familiar flask. The cool metal brings a small comfort, and in contrast your throat burns as you gulp down liquid courage. 

Stealing yourself against the prying questions and the weight of everyone's expectations, you push open the tavern door, stepping into the warm embrace of the tavern, where Rolan and Lia await, immersed in their own stories. You offer them a weak smile as you approach the booth. 

“There you are, I almost thought you wouldn’t show but I’m glad to be proven wrong.”

“Come, sit!” Lia urges, patting the cushion beside her. As you settle into the booth, you can't help but notice the curious eyes around you.

Gods no.

Instinctively, your finger twirls and you mutter a spell to cast disguise self, only to be reminded of your uselessness. A tinge of frustration tightens your jaw, quickly masked by a forced smile. You divert your gaze, hoping to shield yourself from the unwanted attention. 

“What’s your poison for today?” Lia asks, a mischievous smile spreading from cheek to cheek. Her breath smells of alcohol; Lia and Rolan had clearly begun drinking ahead of you. Not that you could judge them, having indulged in your trusted flask outside the tavern minutes ago. 

“I’ll have what you’ve had.”

“Coming right up!” Lia responds, her enthusiasm undeterred. She signals the bartender, and soon enough, a trio of drinks arrives at the table. 

Rolan is the first to grip the glass and then clear his throat, “To us,  and Gale - and hope that tomorrow will give us more answers.” 

One drink turns into four drinks, and at some point, you lose track of both time and the units you’ve allowed to warm your gullet. Honestly it’s quite funny, why did you worry so much before? Silly you with silly thoughts! Almost as silly as Rolan’s eyes focused on your neck. He looks funny with his eyebrows furrowed, and a chuckle escapes your lips at the sight.

“You’ll get wrinkles if you keep staring at my neck like that, Rolan.”

“I did no such thing!” he retorts as a flush creeps up on the tiefling's cheeks.

Lia heartily laughs, swaying a bit, and offers her hand to you. “Join me for a dance, will you?” The music in the tavern entices you and despite the blurred lines of inebriation, you take Lia’s hand and step into the lively dance floor.

Lia practically dragged you through the crowded tavern, Rolan following closely behind to his best abilities. The dance floor was filled with twirling bodies, in rhythm with the bard's melodies. Pulling your arm up, Lia spins and chuckles as you reach the bards scene. Rolan, with a playful twinkle in his eyes, reaches the two of you and joins the dance. The world seems to sway with the music and for the first time in a long time, a genuine smile spreads across your face. 

As you moved to the music, you sensed Rolans’ proximity. His hand found its way to the small of your back, guiding you through the intricate steps of the dance. The unfamiliar warmth of his hand against your skin was a stark contrast to the memories of Asterion's cool touch.The bard's music kept on playing, the tunes bouncing off the plucked strings, the odor of alcohol on his breath, and hot uncontrolled bodies clashing against your person -  Gods, its too much. You can't stay a minute longer or you might suffocate. 

“I need some air,” you mumble and offer an apologizing smile, excusing yourself as the dance continues without you. 

“Wait!” a muffled voice calls out, but you pretend that you’re too far off to hear. 

Faces blurred into a sea of strangers, and the lively chatter became an indistinguishable hum. Your breath quickened, and you couldn't shake the feeling of faceless men and women judging your every step. Because now they know - they know that you were no hero of Baldur's gate, just another drunk who couldn’t even cast a simple spell to disguise herself from embarrassment. 

Pathetic. 

As you stepped out into the cool night air, the contrast between the warmth of the dance floor and the refreshing chill outside sent shivers down your spine. Crouching down you plant your hands to your knees, trying to catch your breath and ease your mind. 

A moment later, the tavern door swung open abruptly, an curly haired man emerging as he wrestled with another almost feral one. The creature thrashed and snarled at the curly haired man as he strained against the frenzied movements. Caught off guard, you stood up in the shadow beside the entrance, your breath hitching again as you observed the scene unfold. 

Seizing the opportunity to make sense of the situation, you assertively approached the struggling men, dagger clutched and ready strike if needed. The curly-haired man's eyes flickered toward you and your gaze met his.

Deep crimson eyes, ivory curls, and are those fangs?

No, that can't be.

"Astarion?" you uttered, your voice a hushed whisper that sliced through the night, your eyes fixed on the elf's face in utter disbelief. There he was, right before you.

Astarion's attention shifted to the rabid man, deftly maneuvering to subdue him. He restrained the creature, halting any further erratic movements. With precision, Astarion extracted a flask from his belt, causing the man's struggles to intensify. Despite the increased resistance, Astarion's actions remained calculated and exact.

With the man momentarily contained, Astarion secured him in place with one hand, the other retrieving a flask. He raised it to his mouth, a subtle glint of fangs emerging as he skillfully removed the lid with his teeth.

"Hello," the rogue spoke, pausing to inject the man with the unfamiliar substance. The feral struggles ceased, and Astarion continued, his tone now imbued with a nuanced warmth, "darling."

Stunned you remain constrained where you stood. This is real, Astarion is here after days, weeks and months of him plaguing your thoughts every waking moment. Your mind races, trying to process the surreal present. A rumble in your stomach seems to pull you out of your trance, nausea spreading in your throat. 

Keep. it. down. 

“Care to help or do you intend to stand there and just gawk?”

Once more the door beside you swung open, a tall figure emerges with swaying strands of long hair catching in the wind, intent on reaching the paralyzed man and Astarion. 

“We said no killing, remember?" he spoke.

"Oh, my apologies, brother. I must have forgotten our little agreement when I was wrestling the feral dog whilst you were nowhere to be seen.”

At that moment, you recognized the man - Leon. His expression remained stoic, though a flicker of irritation crossed his features. "Your theatrics aren't amusing, Astarion. We need to keep them alive; this is not the time nor place for you to display your unique methods."

You finally had a surge to act, fumbled in your bag and searched for any potion or scroll that could help. A glass vial of what seemed to be a healing potion met your fingers, and you pulled it out, unscrewing the cap with shaky hands. 

“Here take this,” you called out, holding the potion aloft, offering a forced smile amidst the charged atmosphere. 

As you step forward to give Leon the vial, Rolan stumbles out the tavern door, tipsy and eyes searching for something in the night. You’d completely forgotten about Rolan and Lia, they’d probably been worried since you hadn’t returned. His eyes widened at the chaotic scene before him, and he instinctively moved to stand in front of you, a protective gesture. His hand flickered with a small flame, ready to defend against any potential threat. 

"What in the hells is happening here?" Rolan demanded, a mix of concern and bewilderment in his voice.

Before anyone could respond, Astarion let out a small laugh, one that you couldn't seem to decipher the meaning of. What was so funny? Rolan certainly wasn't amused, and the flame rose higher from his palm at the elf's dismissive laugh. Leon's gaze moved to Rolan, his hands raising in a gesture of peace, showing that they were no threat to him or you.

“Got yourself a knight in shining armor, have you now?” Astarion remarked, a sly grin playing on his lips.

Knight in shining armor? The words stung, and a spark of anger flared within you. Rolan didn't need to save you nor did you want him to. Opening your mouth to retort, Leon interjected, his voice firm and commanding.

“Astarion, don’t,” Leon snapped at him, a stern edge to his voice. He then looked directly at you, his expression softening. “We don’t want to fight you. Let's find a quieter spot to talk, and we’ll explain everything.”

You nodded, the tension in the air making it clear that this was not the time for confrontation. Rolan, still wary but trusting your judgment, lowered the flame in his palm. With cautious glances exchanged between the group, you began to move away from the chaotic scene, guided by Leon's lead to a more secluded spot where answers awaited. 

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can i request headcandons of the spiderverse Boys with a shy nurse reader who is constantly tired? Being nurse and spider person is a physically and mentally demanding job and i think that would be nice see more spiderverse content, but if u don't want to make this request i understand

A/n: I’m sorry Most of these are either short cuz I didn’t know what to put for them or come across as a carbon copy of the other in due to me not knowing what to put there instead🤣

Miles sympathises with you wholeheartedly.

Trying to find a healthy balance between being a nurse -an intensive and highly demanding profession- and being a hero was definitely a challenge that had detrimental affects upon one’s mental and physical health.

Miles would affirm you with his words of praises and encouragement all the while holding you tightly, wilfully being your personal pillow/recharging station that often times he’d catch you fall asleep against him because his presence was that warm and comforting to you that it lulled you into a peaceful sleep.

Miles deeply admires your dedication to saving people not only as hero but also within the medical field. But he often does worry that you work yourself to the bone trying to find a way to perform both tasks without having them overlap one another.

There do come days where it all becomes a bit too much as your body grows sick and tired of your constant negligence and choose it’s way of rebelling by refusing you any sort of mobility of your limbs. Your mental state also tanks which only made your want to move even harder as you didn’t even have to willpower to make it so.

Miles would be a major source of comfort during these moments as he would remind you of all the achievements and accomplishments you’ve made during your tenure as both hero and Nurse. He’d probably have his music on as background noise whilst he’s taking the time and effort in making sure you’re as comfortable as possible.

Things he most often says are;

‘You have done so many amazing things and your only just getting started! How cool is that?!’

‘You’re an inspiration to not only the people you save on a daily basis but your also an inspiration to me as well that I even made art about you. Here, take a look!’

‘Don’t beat yourself up over this, you always get back up and hit them twice as hard because that’s what my y/n does, for my y/n ain’t no quitter, they’re a fighter.’

‘Bad days come to pass because the better ones always remain.’

‘Rest, I’ll take over from here.’

‘You’re not alone in this because I’m not going anywhere, I’ll be right here to catch you when you need me to.’

Pavitr would, If you let him, smother you in affection and cuddles but to the right amount so it doesn’t cross the border where it could potentially get annoying.

Which with Pav, it never does because his hugs and cuddles were the best and yet to be topped by anything or anyone because they are superior.

Plus they brought you warmth and comfort that you can’t help but bury yourself into his neck after a shit day in hopes of forgetting all about it as his hand rubs your back soothingly whilst also fighting the urge to just fall asleep then and there.

Also this lad would just spoil you with small gifts as to show his appreciation for you even though he does so quite eloquently enough with his words and his actions that this was merely the cherry on top.

Due to Pavitr being more able to read people then most, he’d notice the indicators within you that told him you weren’t feeling your best and he would make sure to take you to his favourite places within Mumbattan in hopes that it’ll help you by even just a little bit. After all he’s aware of the concept that fresh air and a change of pace were beneficial to a better mental health, and all he wants was for you to feel better, even if it was by a little that would mean a whole lot to him.

Hobie would want you to have a change of scenery from the hustle and bustle you subjugate yourself to on an daily basis to somewhere less noisy and loud within any aspect.

Sure it’s not his kind of scene but for you and how much work you put on yourself just to come home, looking as though any minute you were going to collapse? It was worth seeing you gradually become more relaxed and at peace to the point you fall asleep against his shoulder and he has to carry you back home.

again Hobie didn’t care since he knew how much sleep you missed out on and would not hesitate to get you a few days off if he feels as though you workplace was taking the piss out of you by thinking you were expendable.

He ain’t having none of that shit when it came to you.

Hobie wasn’t about to let you work yourself to the bone and not get a single thanks nor your flowers for busting your ass.

You tell him that it doesn’t bother you as you were doing what your job entails but Hobie more or less your backbone within these sorts of situations because he didn’t want you being taken advantage of just because you were ‘hard working.’ Not to say you aren’t but Hobie was more then well aware that this was often the excuse given when some shit stain wanted to offload their work onto someone else for personal gain.

It was always the ones who worked the least or didn’t work at all that got the appraisal and the promotions.

So Hobie would always and I mean ALWAYS praise you for everything you’ve done for he doesn’t believe you hear it enough for his liking.

Also he’s great with advice so when the days were particularly rough, he’d probably drop a bit of sage advice in regards to any aspect that you were finding hard to cope with like; ‘while the aspiration to save everyone is admirable; it’s unrealistic. For you’re setting yourself up to traverse down a road where instead of pointing out the problem, you are made to believe that you are the problem. Instead of trying to save everyone, focus on saving one person at a time for that one person could be someone else’s everything.’

Being the absolute secret sweetheart that he is, Miguel would try and help take the weight off of your shoulders and make your life a whole lot more easier by performing small acts of service that he knows you’ll greatly appreciate.

Even if it was the minuscule things such as; making you your favourite beverage, setting up a relaxing bath/ shower. fluffing up the pillows, smoothing the creases out of the duvet, cooking your favourite food since you always tell him that one of the things you always loved coming home to was the smell of his cooking. Hell do it all if it made you happy.

Miguel defiantly pampers you on the days where you felt more fatigued from your dual jobs. He doesn’t want you to do anything for you’ve already done enough to warrant yourself some much needed rest.

He lives to serve his beloved and would reject your requests to help him by planting kisses to your lips until you ultimately accept his pampering with little to no complaint.

If you were in the spider society, he’d give you time off because he’s the boss and all and if you were to go against his request for you to take time for yourself, he’d threaten to double it even though he was seriously considering it with how obvious tightroping two jobs was negatively effecting you.

Miguel doesn’t want you to overwork yourself but will overwork himself…what a hypocrite.

Soft Miguel is only soft with you.

[elysiumarchieve]

Scaramouche kissing headcannons? Pretty please???

combining these two requests because i can fit them well together!

scaramouche kissing headcanons

warnings: fluff, and my horrible attempts at explaining kisses, i feel bad putting him as a warning the entire time but he is a menace

✧ scaramouche,, isn't too fond of physical affection

✧ in his eyes, it's weird that people press their mouths together and 'make out', which literally looks like they are eating each other's face (he watched fatui recruits make out in the hallways, my dude saw some wild stuff)

✧ however, scaramouche is open to learn more about kisses, though you need time and patience to warm him up to the idea

✧ while he likes soft pecks on his cheeks when he isn't in the mood for more affection, he becomes really soft around you (and his cheeks are extremely squishy and you feel like you have to thank the shogun for creating him like this)

✧ cup his cheeks and pepper his face with kisses and he will groan at your display of affection, but never dares to make any argument against you - in fact, if you would stop due to his reaction, he'll glare at you and ask immediately why you stopped

✧ for him, kisses are really intimate. after all, he wouldn't press his mouth onto anyone else mouth other than yours that is, so that's that

✧ i see him as the type of person to grab your hands and press soft kisses onto the back of your hand, your fingertips and any small wound you have from fighting that he could find. he also likes pressing his face into the palm of your hand afterwards, a smug grin on his face when he notices your startled and flustered expression on your face as you try to process what he just did. it's such a simple act to show how much he truly appreciates you and yet you always have the same shocked look on your face.

✧ kisses with scaramouche are not an everyday thing. while he has his five minutes in which he might be more demanding for affection than on other days, he doesn't really want to to kiss you the entire time. if you ever come home to him however and kiss him on the lips unprompted, he'll scoff but won't ever refuse you

✧ despite that, kissing him for real, on his actual lips is somewhat of an experience. you can tell he has never done this before and it bothers him to the point of wanting to reject any sort of affection like this, so that's why you need patience. he'll quickly believe that he is of no use if he is unable to perform any task before him, even if it might be a simple kiss (it's the trauma)

✧ his kisses are slow but demanding, leaving you breathless when he parts from you. his hands usually cup your face in an almost possessive way, his way of making sure you're not actually leaving (which sounds stupid in his head since you're right?? there??). his kisses might be slow and somewhat sensual, something rather unexpected from the balladeer of all people, but he's demanding your entire attention to be directed at him, to only see him in those few seconds and that you wouldn't dare even to think about anyone else

✧ he doesn't really peck your face or suddenly attack you with a barrage of kisses, but rather, when he happens to be in a good mood, he'll kiss your forehead gently and immediately turn away and leave the scene as quickly as possible

✧ in a way he reminds you of how snow is, ice cold to the touch but melts right away when coming in contact with your skin - scaramouche was just like that. with no natural body warmth and nothing to essentially make him human, he struggles with himself in a way you couldn't understand but try and grasp upon his feelings

✧ you know that the only reason he still wants to keep you at an arms length at times is rooted in his own fear of being abandoned, something you'd never dare to speak up about with him. knowing him, he'd get upset if you ever mentioned any hidden insecurity of his

✧ so when he kisses you, a small gentle kiss to the back of your hand, a loving kiss on the lips that only you ever came to receive from him, he was similar to a snowflake melting and warming up. he might be cold to the touch, but his heart must be otherwise, that's what you're certain about

✧ at one point, scaramouche might even become impatient if you forget to kiss him after returning home or if you forget your daily peck on his cheek (something he wants to hate but craves as a part of his routine)

✧ sitting across the room, he might clear his throat multiple times, his arms crossed before his chest as he glares at you expectantly

✧ if you have the audacity to ask him what's wrong he'll scoff, simply asking in a deadpan tone if you didn't forget about something - if you still can't remember, scaramouche won't say it and leave the room just moments later, mumbling something under his breath not even you could understand. his pride doesn't allow him to ask for kisses, and besides, how could you forget? (he's more bothered by the fact that he hated not receiving any kiss that morning as you were in a hurry)

✧ why don't you magically understand what he wants from you? stupid mortal

✧ it's not until weeks later you notice the subtle pattern in his behavior. if you kissed his cheek he wouldn't sit down at the same spot and clear his throat pasisve aggressively, sitting there with his arms crossed and glaring at you

✧ if you ask him about it in a rather amused tone, he'll huff and dismiss you, claiming that 'you're too stupid to even remember your own routine' - you don't press this matter and simply give him a peck on his cheek

✧ my poor boy never received any love, so any form of affection and especially physical affection feels foreign to him, so he needs time to warm up to it. however, in his case it's absolutely worth it - for him as for you, he can show you even further how important you are to him, even if it was just a simple kiss

✧ and being a little shit, he expects the same treatment for him without having to ask for it. after all, you said this is what lovers do, so it should come natural to you, right?

✧ he won't admit that he likes kisses. he will never admit this, but you know better

[otomefiend]

Alfons Sylvatica

Collection Event: I want to know every inch of you

A very quick translation, so please forgive any errors/awkwardness. Here's to hoping Kate will manage to fluster this guy one day. Cause it ain't today.

~~~

Alfons: "Physical examination...?"

Kate: "Regular checks are performed as part of the Crown's healthcare system. Your cooperation will be greatly appreciated."

When Victor asked me to collect everyone's details, I called Alfons to the infirmary.

Alfons: "If that's the case, then go ahead. Do as much research as you like."

Kate: "There are some red marks on your neck and chest that..."

Alfons: "Hmm... those could be scratches from a cat or a dog."

(... if he says so. I shouldn't pursue the matter further)

Alfons: "I get marked easily. Would you like to test it yourself?"

Alfons ran his hand over his skin invitingly.

Crimson flowers blooming on his pale skin drew my gaze. The sight unsettled me and made me avert my eyes.

Kate: "No need to concern yourself with me!"

Alfons: "Oh, I see. That's a shame..."

~~~

(All right, now that I've learned all I needed to know)

Kate: "The assessment is over. Thank you for your cooperation."

Alfons: "Please wait. It looks like some fields are still empty?"

His finger tapped the corner of the record sheet I was holding.

(Huh...? I thought I filled it all in)

Indeed, the last item was still left blank. What was there ---

Kate: "The most important entry... 'erogenous zones'!?"

Alfons: "My my, this seems like an interesting section, don't you agree?"

Kate: "It must be a mistake! I'll go ask Victor!"

Alfons: "Why don't you just measure it according to the instructions?"

Alfons: "If it's a mistake, you can erase it later."

Alfons: "Lord Victor is busy, that's why he left this task to you, am I right?"

Alfons: "I don't think it's worth wasting time confirming this..."

(Ugh... he's probably right)

Kate: "T-then... could you shed some light? On your erogenous zones that is..."

Alfons: "Now then, you want to know where they are?"

Kate: "Yes?"

Alfons: "Thinking about it, it's hard to pinpoint the exact location..."

Kate: "... every day you return at dawn and yet you don't know?"

Alfons: "Uh-huh, haven't got a clue. Can you help me find out, Kate?"

Alfons: "Touch my body... Try to find a place that makes me feel good."

(I really should refuse...)

(...but he's right, I need to complete the records properly)

After pondering on it for a moment, a wicked idea came to mind.

(... this could be a perfect opportunity to expose Alfons' weaknesses)

Up until now, I had always been at his mercy.

But if I had succeeded, this was going to provide a perfect opportunity for a payback.

Kate: "...... fine, I'll do it. It's part of my task after all. Please, sit on the chair."

He sat in silence as I reached towards his body.

Observing his reactions, my fingertips slowly traced his chest, then stomach and finally his waist.

Alfons: "Haa... haa... ah, this is good. Keep it up..."

(Such exaggerated noises... it's definitely an act)

(How can I find his erogenous zones...)

Kate: "Does it really feel good?"

Alfons: "Yes, of course. Your clumsy attempt is quite entertaining..."

Alfons: "Besides, it's enlightening to observe the way you touch me."

Kate: "Enlightening...?"

Alfons: "All of the areas you're touching in your search... might be the very spots you find pleasurable yourself."

Kate: "Ugh...... absolutely not. My... this has nothing to do with me!"

Alfons: "Oh, are you going to stop? If it doesn't matter, I don't see a problem with continuing..."

Kate: "I think I've done enough research already!"

Alfons: "There are places you haven't explored yet. For example... inside my mouth."

Kate: "Inside your mouth..."

My gaze lingered on his thin lips.

Alfons: "Stir it with your tongue, taste it, suck it... check if it feels good."

Kate: "Yeah, yeah, how typical."

Alfons: "Well, without it, the form will be incomplete."

Kate: "Ugh."

Alfons: "... this is only for research purposes, right? It's your job to investigate after all."

Kate: "Fine..."

It felt wrong. It set off my alarm bells since I knew those were devil's whispers ---.

Alfons: "... As expected, you're an excellent fairytale expert."

How was it possible that one piece of praise could bring me so much joy?

Kate: "Nn...."

I carefully placed my hand on Alfons' shoulder and pressed my lips to his.

Then I wrapped my tongue around his and tried my best to stimulate him.

(It's a decent try, but... does it really make him feel good?)

Preoccupied with kissing him, I had no chance to pay attention to how Alfons was doing.

Alfons: ".... You're such a pitiful girl."

I heard him mutter in a gentle tone of voice ---.

Kate: "Huh!? Mnn...."

This time, it was Alfons' tongue that entered my mouth.

My head was spinning from kisses so intense that my earlier ones seemed like child's play in comparison.

(This is ridiculous...)

(I was supposed to look for Alfons' erogenous zones, and yet it was me getting lost in pleasure...)

When our lips finally separated, I was the one who was exhausted and breathing heavily on his shoulder.

Alfons: "....many thanks for your efforts in the investigation. You've been very helpful."

Kate: "You're wel...."

Alfons: "After all... that debauched face of yours might be what excites me the most."

Alfons: "... well, please write in your report that my whole body is an erogenous zone."

Alfons: "If there's a need to write anything to begin with..."

(......what?)

Hearing his strange remark, I quickly looked at the form... and noticed that the last section was nowhere to be found.

(No way, Alfons' ability to change perception...!?)

When I looked up to give him a piece of my mind, he was already gone.

~~~

Alfons: "Heh,... you troubled thing, so serious and so completely fooled."

~~~

[yuurei20]

Malleus Info Compilation part 13: Halloween

Malleus has a difficult time during Halloween when, in trying to encourage campus visitors to be respectful of school’s rules, he learns of “the Draconia Challenge”, where people photograph themselves touching him for Magicam. The experience upsets Malleus extremely—Silver describes him as “furious”—and we learn from Sebek that someone had also been grabbing onto his horns.

Cater diffuses the situation via Magicam, and Malleus concedes that he “almost caused an interspecies conflict over a mere school event…I need to get better control over my emotions”. He also insists on taking responsibility for bringing trouble to Ramshackle Dorm.

The Magicam Monster incident bothers Malleus so much he refuses to attend a meeting of Halloween committee members, with Lilia explaining that "He asked to have some time alone to cool his head". Kalim reflects, "It's Halloween, and he's spending it alone. That must be so sad for him."

Malleus gets his revenge towards the end of the “Terror is Trending” event, and thanks the members of his dorm that made it possible. This Halloween was Malleus’ first time selecting the costumes for Diasomnia Dorm, which is a task that usually falls to Lilia.

Lilia asked him to take it on “if the heir to Briar Valley’s royal throne himself were to select the theme, it would pique the students’ interest”. Malleus accepts the task and, with Ortho’s help, designs costumes to represent “the ghost of a long”.

In Spectral Soiree, Malleus takes pity on a group of ghosts who had traveled to attend NRC’s Halloween party but did not arrive until after the festivities had ended.

Deciding to throw a new Halloween party, Malleus says, “The school has long maintained a durable barrier around its premises. Combine that with enough power from ghosts, and it would be possible. And if that’s still not enough, I’ll lend you my power”.

Malleus then stops time.

The students are unaware that Malleus is behind the problem and assume that both he and Lilia were kidnapped along with the rest of the student body.

At one point Cater remembers Malleus saying, “How could I of all people struggle so?”, which they all interpret to mean that “THE Malleus Draconia was fighting a losing battle”. It is later revealed that he was actually struggling with a piece of music for the pipe organ.

Spectral Soiree involves Malleus announcing that he will “turn every one of (the students) into ghosts” and “perform the finest of requiems over your cold, fallen bodies”, but Silver realizes that Lilia has not actually been possessed and that it was all an act.

Malleus is surprised when the students react with bafflement, having assumed that they were all aware that it was a prelude to a party, and apologizes for causing them grief.

We do not see Malleus suffer any particular consequences for kidnapping 600 students and stopping time, but Ace does tell him that the entire situation was “not cool”. Malleus explains, “It was to keep you entertained until the party was ready. Wasn’t it fun?”

Ace begs him to “PLEASE try to show some awareness of how overwhelmingly powerful you are”. Malleus agrees to take Ace’s words “into consideration” for “next time”, to which Ace responds, “There’s gonna be a NEXT TIME? Shouldn’t you learn something from this?!”

Lilia expresses surprise that Ace has complained to Malleus directly, and Malleus agrees, as “most students at school keep their distance. And rather a few of them flee at the sight of me. But not you. You spoke your mind openly and honestly, and without the aid of others”.

・Malleus Info Compilation part 1: Fright, True Form and Phones ・Malleus Info Compilation part 2: Malleus' Power ・Malleus Info Compilation part 3: Malleus Alone ・Malleus Info Compilation part 4: Malleus and Emotion ・Malleus Info Compilation part 5: Malleus and Lilia (1/2) ・Malleus Info Compilation part 6: Malleus and Lilia (2/2) ・Malleus Info Compilation part 7: Malleus, Technology and Music ・Malleus Info Compilation part 8: Malleus, Invitations and Rook ・Malleus Info Compilation part 9: Malleus, Leona and Vil ・Malleus Info Compilation part 10: Vil and the Main Story ・Malleus Info Compilation part 11: Malleus, Magic, Time and being a prince ・Malleus Info Compilation part 12: Malleus, Deuce and Riddle

[self-indulgent-paw-patrol]

Can you give some headcanons for the series?

SURE! Let's see, I got a bunch of 'em.

Friendly reminder to whoever will read this, THESE ARE JUST HEADCANONS, don't take them as facts, omg, this is just my personal creativity and imagination playing around here

1- The dogs live a lot longer than what it would be "usual" considering the difference between human and dog ages. If we'd take actual dog age into account in this show, both Rubble and Zuma would be the first ones to die of old age in like, 4 years at least. I refuse that. For me, the dogs in this universe not only are able to speak and learn stuff that animals normally don't, but also will live up to like, 30 or 40 years old. Mixed breeds with more resistance to diseases and stuff might reach the 50s.

2- Marshall has bad genetics due to being result from extreme in-breeding at an illegal facility (y'know like what they call a puppy mill). He was born without any strength on his rear body, plus the blue eyes which are ACTUALLY a gene that's related to making Dalmatians have less spots and hearing loss, which can happen from birth or gradually lose their hearing as they grow up. The facility was busted in by police and the dogs were rescued, treated, and put up for adoption. Ryder saw how that clumsy puppy still persisted on getting up and trying to keep up with the others and chose him. It took them some long time of physiotherapy but Marshall's attitude and optimism, along with the support from Ryder and the other pups, got him where he is nowadays: Able to walk, run, jump and perform his rescue duties almost perfectly, to the point he's one of the fastest (if not the fastest) pups (ok this part about his speed is canon, he IS one of the fastest pups), even if he still trips sometimes - it's just how he is and they all love and support him.

3- Skye hates being the smallest pup because she knows she won't grow as much as the others anyway. She's a mix of two naturally small breeds. So whenever they notice one of them is growing a bit more and it's "taking longer" for her, it's just because she grows so much slower and just a bit, to the point it's nearly impossible to notice.

4- Zuma descends from a breed of Merpups who have long ago left the underwater to live on land. They've mixed with Labradors who lived around and the story of their origins has been lost to time, as their descendants think it's just a legend. Zuma always believed it to be real and that's why he waited to see a Merpup that first time. To become a Merpup for one night was literally a dream come true, not only for him loving water but also for it felt like "coming home" for him.

5- Mr. Porter is secretly tasked with watching out for Ryder, that's why he's always helping with providing things for the pups, like bringing/preparing food and snacks for them.

That's what I'll get out for now XD Hope you like these!

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

Two Democratic U.S. senators announced Thursday they plan to introduce a piece of legislation that would require large companies to disclose quota practices to workers and prevent those quotas from interfering with a worker’s health.

“The Warehouse Worker Protection Act would put an end to the most dangerous quotas that plague warehouses,” Democratic Sen. Ed Markey of Massachusetts, a sponsor of the bill, said.

There is no published bill text yet.

Markey said the bill would require companies to notify workers of the quotas they need to meet and ban quotas that rely on 24/7 surveillance or are likely to lead to violations of health and safety laws. He added that companies that don’t comply would be investigated by the Department of Labor and could face fines and penalties.

INJURIES AT AMAZON

Markey was joined outside the U.S. Capitol by workers who shared their stories of being injured on the job at Amazon warehouses, along with Democratic Minnesota Sen. Tina Smith and Sean O’Brien, the president of the International Brotherhood of Teamsters.

Smith said that big companies like Amazon care about “efficiency and cost savings and maximizing their profits.”

“They’re experiencing record profits at the same time that the people whose labor they are earning profits on the backs (of), are experiencing completely unacceptable levels of injuries,” she said.

The speakers singled out Amazon for quota practices that endanger workers, though Markey said the Seattle-based e-retail giant is not the only company that engages in a quota system that harms workers.

“Amazon may be at the front of the pack with an injury rate double the national average, but the rest of the big warehousing companies are close behind,” he said.

Some of Amazon’s quota practices include constant monitoring to measure how many items a worker scans, with automatic flags for workers below a certain percentile, and monitoring how long employees take on bathroom breaks and other “time off task,” according to a Thursday report by the National Employment Law Project.

The Amazon warehouse injury rate is “twice that of the private-sector average for all industries and tens of thousands of warehouse workers each year experience serious injuries requiring medical treatment,” according to the report.

O’Brien said that Amazon’s business model “pushes workers to the brink and creates a culture of fear.”

“Warehouses can be very dangerous places to work if safety isn’t made a priority,” he said.

Wendy Taylor, an Amazon worker in Missouri who is organizing for a union, was injured at work in March.

“I was injured at work because of Amazon’s inhumane work rates, because of the exhausting pace in the physical work me and my coworkers do,” she said.

Taylor said she fell and hurt her knee, but when she went to the company medical center, she said “they (refused) to let me see a doctor when I asked, sending me back to work.”

She eventually went to her own doctor, who diagnosed her with a torn meniscus in her knee.

“This experience (shows) how hard it is to get timely, adequate medical treatment from a company that breaks down my body and speeds up my aging for shareholder profits,” she said.

In a written statement, a spokesperson for Amazon pushed back against some of the comments from senators, including claims that workers lack adequate bathroom breaks and see fixed performance quotas.

“It’s a common misperception that Amazon has fixed quotas, but we do not,” the spokesperson said. “Our Time Logged In policy assesses whether employees are actually working while they’re logged in at their station. Our employees can see their own performance at any time and can talk to their manager if they’re having trouble finding the information.”

The spokesperson also said claims that the injury rate at Amazon is double the industry standard are misleading.

“Many large companies that should be included in these comparisons—companies like Walmart, Target and Costco—report almost all of their injuries under different OSHA reporting categories,” the spokesperson said.

Brian Wild, a spokesperson for the National Association of Wholesaler-Distributors, said in a statement that the industry group does not support the bill, arguing that it could lead to delays and price hikes.

“The bill includes provisions that inappropriately tip the scales to union bosses at the expense of employees and employers by inviting labor organizations to participate in investigations, essentially granting union leaders access to potentially coerce or harass worksites under the guise of ‘worker safety,’” Wild said.

SEEKING BIPARTISAN SUPPORT

Markey said there is bipartisan support in the Senate for the bill, as well as the House.

“We just want to build this out,” Markey said. “It should not be a Democrat or Republican thing, it’s a worker safety bill.”

A warehouse protection law went into effect in Minnesota last year, but advocates have raised concerns that Amazon is not complying with the law.

Several other states, including California, New York, Oregon and Washington, have passed legislation similar to what Markey and Smith are proposing.

[kentosovertime]

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

CW: explicit content, nsfw twitter links, corn links, degradation, name calling, rough smut, sink kink, overstim, pet dynamics

A/N: i'm accepting requests for nsfw twitter links for characters moving forward from jjk, bleach, haikyuu, demon slayer, & naruto. please refer to my blog rules post linked on my pinned post for full request rules (link below)

let me know if you want to join my taglist so you know when hcs drop <3

✨Masterlist | Twitter Masterlist | Tag List | Request Rules | Ask Box | Ko-Fi✨

Link 1: Gentle? Sukuna doesn't know her. He is neither tender nor sweet. His idea of foreplay is shoving three fingers inside of you with no warning and expecting you to just take it. Any praise that falls from his lips drip with a condescending smirk. "Yeah? You like that?" He'd coo down at you, knowing that the loud squelching filling the room is answer enough. Not that you could answer... Not with an arm pinning your neck to the mattress with so much force the only noise that can force its way out is your choked whines.

Link 2: He'll never let you top him. A slut's place is below him or on her knees in front of him so she can focus on the one task of spreading her legs or lips and taking every inch of him without complaint. As he fucks into you, he uses your body as his own personal fuck toy, pulling you into every harsh thrust, pinning your arms so you don't move from the mouth watering position he has you in.

Link 3: He'll ride your ass hard and fast. His towering form would dwarf you and smother you as you grip the edge of any available surface around you. His hands are large enough to grip your hips and have his fingers touch in the front while leaving your skin an intoxicating shade of black and blue.

Link 4: Any pause in the rough pace he sets is when he catches glimpses of the light shinning off your collar that you refuse to take off, branding you as his. Your chest heaves as his hands drag up your body so he can paw at your chest and press into your throat, causing the cold metal to bite into your skin as he squeezes.

Link 5: When he finishes, he explodes inside of you. Every additional thrust is performed with the sole-minded purpose of forcing his cum into your cervix. He'd ignoring your screams for him to stop, to tell him that its too much, before he finally has enough and smothers your mouth and nose with his palm to shut you up. And to be mean he'd slow done, but put all his energy into full force thrusts that leave your eyes tearing and body spasming.

tag list: @sugarbooger513 @sugarmapoops @roughwithfluff @severelytalentless @yelzoldyck @silversslut @aazaard @dreamyyholland @wobblewobble822 @vantastic210@rafzaha @tirzamisu @chososhoney @littlemochi @bebechinas99 @firdaoz @saoney @meromelo @pelicanpizza @sukunassoulmate @damncakie @katgalle @adequate-superstar @honeyyjems [[if your blog name is crossed out i couldn't tag you]]

[vinthetiefling]

Baldur’s Gate 3 was worth the wait.

I’ve spent over a decade searching for the next game to inspire what I felt playing Dragon Age Origins. That’s not to say I’m not enamoured with the creative beauty of Legend of Zelda, the epic storytelling of the Witcher, or the existential freedom afforded to you in Disco Elysium. For me, the greatest source of that feeling is the ability to fail and to have those failures fleshed out and made real. To witness those failures having a meaningful impact on your story and where it’s headed. There are countless forks in the road, which might explain why I retained so many save states despite routinely culling them.

Sure, high rolling is nice. High rolling kept some of my favourite characters from turning on me or becoming consumed with power. I even built a sorcerer with high persuasion in anticipation for what lay ahead. But the hidden intricacies—the people you notice or fail to notice in a flooding room, the choice to give into a whispering dark urge, the fate of a prince with no bearing to your backstory—are where we cut our own paths, and where we unwittingly stumble into failure.

Whether you want to come into the game with a preset alignment, decide on a case-by-case basis, or even throw it all out the window and veer from good to evil—that’s on you as the captain of this ship! And make no mistake, you are the captain. Even when the characters have their own bonds, belief systems and priorities outside of your mad dash to remove the tadpoles.

The writing was ingenious. There were characters I never saw myself caring for who demonstrated vulnerability and complexity, making me wade into hell to save them. Other characters I’d pegged under a certain alignment or archetype. They later proved themselves capable of doing a 180 and becoming a problem later. There were those who showed an incomparable ability to adapt and those who held strong to their beliefs. I also loved the touch of recruiting potential enemies into your party where they would prove to be invaluable assets to the team.

That’s not even touching on the choices you’ll be able to make in Acts 1, 2, and 3. Tdlr; It would be one hell of a task to make two runs resemble each other.

Here’s the lowdown on my run:

Character:

Vin the tiefling was a divine soul sorcerer conjured in pencil on the back of my rogue’s player sheet back in 2017. He was a backup in the event that I died. Eventually, I brought him out and his stats made him the face of the party, which was unfortunate for me as a naturally uncharismatic person. His shenanigans later saw him captured, petrified, amputated, crushed beneath the falling tower of a lich and transformed into a weapon of Bhaal. My favourite trait of his was his refusal to die. My sparkly glitter dice kept him going, and in the spirit of that, Vin was reborn in BG3 as the son of Bhaal.

Origin:

The dark urge didn’t pull any punches. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt so uncomfortable playing a character in a game—one who embarks upon his journey by smiling over the bodies of a nautiloid wreckage. So began my fight for control over Vin. There were moments when the game took my autonomy away, which added to my helplessness as I witnessed him kick a squirrel and commence the torturing of a captive under interrogation. I had no idea which scenes the urge was going to leap out in, and that made for a wild time. My best bet was to simply avoid situations where the urge might pull my strings. But that was hard to do when Faerûn was set on falling apart. I was a puppet, and Bhaal was my master. I was so rattled by what Vin did to Alfira, I did nothing but play with Scratch after. It was real, the discord struck between my trauma and head-in-the-sand coping.

Combat:

Wizards might have the ability to consume scrolls over sorcerers, but with Vin’s persuasion, intimidation, deception and performance checks, he was more than happy to leave the thinking to the experts. I built him as best I could to his configuration in the home game. While divine sorcerer didn’t exist as a subclass in BG3, my next pick for him was draconic bloodline, which provided a healthy boost to my AC. In a great stroke of luck, Vin’s detect telepathic and telekinetic feats were largely mirrored in the illithid powers provided by the consumption of tadpoles. My main spells were a combination of fire bolt, shocking grasp, burning hands, fly, haste, fireball, telekinesis, and chain lightning. I hoarded explodable barrels and bottles of flammable grease, and the invisibility afforded to me through Alfira’s sacrifice helped me wipe the board clean. Godspeed, Alfira. You saved many lives by helping me kill efficiently.

Story:

Act 1—We saved the tieflings and druids by destroying Minthara and the goblins. Her armour was great on Wyll for a time. Gale and Vin seemed into each other, until the weave scene happened and I decided to keep it friendly. My closest bond was with Shadowheart, who showed an intelligent and practical approach to whatever Faerûn threw down at us. We helped the myconids and befriended Omeluum. Then, we saved the Grymforge gnomes by eldritch blasting the duergar into lava and honking Nere’s nose with a shocking grasp. It’s a shame he was so terrible and evil. I thought we had a connection.

Act 2—Imagine my surprise when Jaheira joined my party after hunting Vin like an animal in the shadowfell. The urge wanted me to take out Isobel and revel in the horrific fall of the Last Light Inn, and I told it to shut up. We saved as many prisoners as we could in Moonrise, masquerading as an evildoer in front of Z’rell who was super into it. Then we cleared the Gauntlet of Shar, where Shadowheart spared Dame Aylin and became a Selûnite. I’ve never seen a more bloodthirsty Aasimar. Balthazar went down in like two hits. We sweet-talked Mizora into an infernal rapier, apparently missed Zevlor in the illithid pods, and destroyed Ketheric. Vin slow danced with Wyll. Oh. And Halsin glitched out of my party after we saved Thaniel, so I painstakingly went back to the beginning of Moonrise to save him. His name is now a curse in my house.

Act 3—Vin slept with anything horned, tentacled and from the Underdark, along with his beloved fiancé. We defeated Cazador and set the spawn free, got the Orphic Hammer for Lae’zel, rescued Wyll’s father and the Gondians from the Iron Throne, reunited Gale and Mystra, cleansed the house of grief with fireballs and said goodbye to Shadowheart’s parents, usurped Gortash by letting Karlach get in the final hit, saved Matthew Mercer and his lovable space hamster, and put Ansur back down in the dirt. After pulling on Bhaal’s chains for so long, Vin became an unholy assassin then turned and rejected Bhaal himself.

When I crafted the guardian form that the Emperor took on, it was made to resemble Vin’s younger sister in our home game. What occurred lore-wise was a projection of the sister he never had because his real blood-kin was Orin. And what a villain Orin was! What an actor. Tormenting us as a fortune teller, a newspaper interviewer, taking on Lae’zel’s form in a way that almost convinced me if not for the corner she’d turned as a character! In the end, she was no match for my scrolls of hold monster. I might not be a wizard, but I’ve swindled enough gold to buy a mansion and I’m hotter than Elle Woods. That’s the sorcerer class, baby.

Romance:

Wyll fell into place for Vin, and the more thought I gave it, the more sense it made. He was the guiding light for our dark urge rehabilitator. Vin was written to be chaotic good in his mind but chaotic neutral in practice. In truth, his sense of justice is shallow. Sure, he steps in front of oppressors and a specific trigger for him is slavery, being a slave to his dread lord father and all. But he thwarts evil simply because he *can.* What’s funnier than subjugating the weak? Overthrowing those with all the power and stealing their crown. Luckily for the everyday person of Faerûn, Vin is a merciful ruler. I’m not quite sure if Wyll could see what I saw. To him, Vin was a shaker and mover, a trailblazer in a world of horror and cruelty. To me, Vin was a self-indulgent manipulator given a new set of keys. Can he fix me? He can try, one slow dance at a time.

Endings:

After staring at this decision for a good ten minutes, I trusted the Emperor by letting him kill Orpheus and destroyed the Netherbrain at the end of the final battle.

Lae’zel was convinced to stay after I let the comet prince be assimilated. This felt like the more evil outcome of the split in the road, to be honest. I doomed the Gith’yanki so I could live without tentacles. In accepting it, Lae’zel renounced her obligation to the Gith regarding Orpheus or Vlaakith. I stole her hope for change and left her with an ordinary, mercenary life. She seemed happy. But Lae’zel, I’m sorry. You deserved more.

Gale reforged the crown for Mystra and washed his hands clean of its power. I was happy with this outcome for him, but it also reminded me of why Gale and Vin fell flat as a romance. Gale was still utterly consumed by Mystra, and staring at her face before our little date sealed the deal for me. He would always be second to the goddess of the weave.

Shadowheart, Jaheira and Minsc have a fresh start to look forward to. I suppose the latter two will find new work around the city. I especially enjoyed having a harper in the mix after watching D&D Honor Among Thieves. And as for Shadowheart, her parents are gone, but she’s broken from Shar’s clutches and the world is hers. I see her becoming entrenched in her new Selûnite status and rising peerless among their ranks.

I legitimately thought we’d killed Astarion before he ran from the sun. As he never ascended, the tadpole was the only thing protecting him. It was hinted in our discussions that he would go to the Underdark to offer guidance to the spawn once the battle was over. If that isn’t an enormous change from the cutthroat we first met, I don’t know what is. He showed the greatest capacity for change and self-reflection, and for that, he went from one of my least liked to most beloved characters.

At the behest of his father, Wyll became Duke Ravengard. But it was a fairytale ending and a ball and a wedding that came at the cost of someone else. Who better to rebuild Baldur’s Gate when his warlock powers have vanished? With Gortash gone and the power vacuum ripped wide open, who else could wield such empathy and an unwavering sense of justice? While it was a form of drudgery compared to being the Blade of Avernus, Wyll seemed a perfect fit. Without knowing what was at the end of the string, I took it.

I’ve been building up to the hollyphant in the room.

Karlach died, and it felt not only devastating and real, but very dear to me as a person with something malfunctioning in their body. Her happiness for Vin saving himself hit like a dagger in the chest, because there’s hope for him, and none for her. She’s so happy for you while she’s dying. How do you make peace with that? You can’t. In her final moments, I saw how much Vin loved her—the real sister he never had—and that look on his face as she exploded will haunt me forever. I wished we could’ve saved her and given her a life in the city she loves. In hindsight, I know about Wyll and Avernus. I plan on making a run where Vin, Wyll and Karlach venture through hell together as the ultimate poly triad.

To wind down from the hype, there were battles that ruined my day. My heart was beating, my grip on the controller was strong, and the screams and laughter came from a primal place. My partner knew not to come into the room in the middle of Cazador because I was going to punch a hole in the screen. I’ve never been challenged quite like this, with special mentions to the Iron Throne and a final battle in which I did everything possible to avoid bringing out my beloved owlbear. My appreciation for clerics is at an all-time high, and I’d gladly put up with Lae’zel any day for what she brought to table.

It’s all a part of being alive, isn’t it? Life happens, and in that mess of sacrifice, temptation and broken promises, we find ourselves.

[ghostxrose]

Of Monsters and Men | Bakugo Katsuki x OC

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four |

Tags/Warnings ~ Fem!OC, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual fluff, enemies to lovers, potentionally triggering content, universe-typical violence, Enji Todoroki (yes, that is a warning, he's trash), character death, (more tags to be added as story develops <3)

Note ~ Loveliiiieeessss!! Let me know what you think of the story so far!! If I'm being totally open with yall this story is my passion project and I'm a bit hyper-focused on it.. but if yall have any xReader ideas/requests don't be afraid to hit that ask button! Obviously, I love writing for Katsuki, but I'm also comfortable writing for Izuku, Shota, possibly Hawks.. If you have a request just send it in and I'll let ya know if I feel I can accomplish writing something up to your expectations! Enough of my rambles, enjoy the read! <3

Enji had managed to keep up his neutral facade despite the bubble of pride that had welled up inside of him at the sight of his daughter piloting his old Jaeger. He even congratulated himself for being correct in his assumption that Azusa and Bakugo would Drift well together. Watching the two exercise perfect control over Bravo Inferno and perform little tricks was admittedly quite entertaining. That was until his bubble of pride was harshly burst by the sound of the system’s AI telling Loccent that the pilots had gone out of alignment.

He watched with masked panic as Iida and Aizawa tried to get the two pilots stabilized again. Fear and embarrassment flooded him when he watched the arms of Bravo Inferno rise, the Jaeger’s palms beginning to glow molten red. Rangers and techs hurried out of the Loccent Command Center as seasoned Rangers cleared the observation platforms just outside.

“Pull the main power line!” Enji had shouted to Aizawa before he could even think about what else to do.

Aizawa was on the task in an instant, pulling at the large cable with all of his might. Finally, with one last grunt of effort, he pulled the plug from the control panel. Enji looked out to the Jaeger, watching with hidden relief as it began powering down. That’s when the anger began settling into his bones.

~~~~~~~~~~

“This is exactly why I wanted to pilot by myself! If she hadn’t gone out of alignment first, then none of that other shit would have happened! You’ve seen my damn sim scores, you know that I would never fuck up like that if it was just me in that Jae-”

“That’s enough, Ranger!” Enji’s sharp tone effectively cuts Bakugo off from his ranting. “You know damn well that you cannot pilot a Jaeger by yourself, no matter how good your simulation scores are-”

Bakugo exasperatedly cuts Enji off, acting like a petulant child, “You’ve done it before! You brought Mighty Endeavor back on your own-”

“Because my co-pilot died! Yes, I finished off that Kaiju and dragged my Jaeger back to the Shatterdome by myself, but I had to because my co-pilot was dead in his harness right next to me.” Enji bites out, anger twisting his features as he steps closer to Bakugo whose mouth is clamped shut with eyes averted to the floor.

“And do you know what happened after I got back from piloting that Jaeger by myself?” Enji asks half rhetorically, but he pauses and waits for an answer anyway, and Bakugo shakes his head.

“I became so sick from the radiation that I was bedridden. My body burned like I was on fire and I could barely keep conscious. For three fucking days, I was like that.” Enji grits out before he releases a tired sigh and partially turns away from Bakugo. “We still do not have the technology to run single-pilot Jaegers, and I refuse to purposefully put any Ranger through what I went through. Marshal Aizawa and I will talk about what happened today and decide what to do about your co-pilot pairing. You are dismissed, Ranger.”

Bakugo bows slightly and, surprisingly enough, leaves without another word. Enji takes a moment to recollect himself, trying to calm the anger racing through his veins, but then there’s a knock at his office door. Crossing his arms to hide his clenched fists, Enji tells the Ranger at his door to come in. The metal door squeaks as it opens and closes, Azusa walking into the office. She doesn’t sit but rather comes to stand a couple of feet in front of Enji. Her face is neutral, but her eyes hold a bit of anxiety among the rage and her anger only aids in fueling Enji’s own.

“Marshal Todoroki, I-” Azusa begins, but Enji doesn’t let her get very far with her sentence.

“What the fuck happened out there, Azusa?!” Enji starts, immediately letting his anger boil over as he lays into her. “You know, one look at your simulation scores would lead anyone to believe that you would be a strong candidate for becoming a pilot! But what I saw happen out there was pathetic and embarrassing! Who would have thought that the Marshal’s daughter would pull a fucking stunt like that causing another Ranger to fail! You let your co-pilot down today, Azusa! You let me down! You were an embarrassment to every single one of the Rangers observing!”

By this point, Enji is too caught up in his anger to even realize that Azusa has started silently crying in front of him. He can’t stop himself from yelling, can’t stop himself from spitting venomous comment after venomous comment. Deep down, very deep down, he knows that she didn’t do anything substantially wrong, but his pride and his ego won’t let him quiet down.

“What you displayed out there today was that you are no better than the Rangers that just got dropped here from boot camp! No child of mine would have made such an embarrassment out of the Todoroki name like that! You almost caused hundreds of deaths and millions of dollars in damages! Do you realize that?!” Enji spits, his shouting echoing off of the walls of his office as Azusa cowers in front of him.

What Enji says next slips too fast from his mouth to stop in time and he regrets them as soon as the words are spoken, “Toya would be incredibly disappointed in you! You don’t even deserve to pilot Bravo Inferno!”

A sharp gasp knocks some reality back into Enji along with the weight of the words he just shouted into his daughter’s face, and he looks down at her. Horrified shock fills her features as much as it does his, but sharing his shock is immense guilt. Enji is at a loss for words as he tries to think of how to take back or amend what just flew from his mouth. Floundering, he just stares at Azusa’s tear-soaked face, her hurt practically palpable in the air around them.

“Azusa, I-I didn’t mea-”

“Don’t.” She states quietly, making Enji’s words die in his throat. “I-I understood you loud and clear, M-Marshal. Permission to be dismissed, Sir?” Her voice is strained as she speaks and she’s just barely able to stand up straight and look Enji in the eye. All Enji can do is nod since the lump in his throat won’t let him speak.

He watches helplessly as she flees from the room, the door slamming shut behind her. Stunned by his own behavior, Enji slowly moves around his desk to sit down. Leaning forward to rest his elbows on the desk, he buries his face in his hands. He doesn’t know how he’s even going to attempt to fix this kind of fuck up. He isn’t sure that Rei will be able to soothe over the hurt that he’s caused. She may not even be willing to offer him advice on the situation, not that he would blame her.

Enji spends more than a few minutes recollecting himself before calling Aizawa to his office. He’s exhausted now, all of his anger replaced by insurmountable guilt. He let his ego, his pride over his esteemed reputation, win just like so many other times in the past. Enji is the one who let Toya down today, not Azusa, and he fears that he really won’t be able to get his daughter back now.

Knocking pulls Enji out of his spiraling thoughts and he clears his throat before telling Aizawa to enter.

Aizawa enters the room quietly, closing the door behind him before he makes his way over to the chair in front of Enji’s desk. Aizawa just stares at the man for a few moments before letting out his famous tired sigh.

“What happened today was nobody’s fault, Enji. We both know that the chances of something like that happening during a team’s first Drift is highly possible. I’m just surprised that it didn’t happen with more of the other teams.” Aizawa says as he leans back in the chair, tipping his head back and closing his eyes.

At Enji’s silence, Aizawa decides to move the conversation forward himself, “So did either of them request a different co-pilot? I’m sure we can switch the teams around, make it work.”

“No,” Enji utters exhaustively, deciding to end his silent brooding. “Bakugo just requested, yet again, to pilot by himself but I sorted that out already. We’ll keep Azu- Ranger Todoroki and Ranger Bakugo as co-pilots for Bravo Inferno, but we won’t send them out on any deployments until they go through a few more trial Drifts.” He states as he clasps his hands and rests his chin on them.

Aizawa straightens up in his seat, raising a questioning eyebrow at him, “I know that I kind of just advocated for them, but are you sure you don’t want to try putting them with other Rangers? I witnessed, just as you did, that they have the potential to work well together, but if they go out of alignment again and neither of them can bring the other back.. They won’t make it out in the field like that, Enji.”

“That’s why we’ll have them run through a few more trial Drifts. If this was a one-off type of situation, then they’ll be just fine. And if it happens again, we’ll either see if they can bring each other out of it or we’ll pair them off with other pilots.” Enji firmly states with a bit of frustration.

Aizawa relents with a sigh, scrubbing a hand over his face, “Fine. I’ll have their Jaeger sent to one of the Bays with less foot traffic so that when they try again tomorrow there’s less of a chance for catastrophe if something goes wrong again.” He says as he types out the message on his tablet, then sends it to the crew in the Shatterdome.

Aizawa then looks up at Enji, the man being able to read him like a book after working with him for so long, “So how hard were you on her?” His tone is knowing but free of any real judgment.

“Too hard.” Enji admits reluctantly before continuing, “I said things that I shouldn’t have.. I wouldn’t blame her if she honest to god hates me now.” He finishes quietly.

“Well, I don’t know shit about parenting, so it’s up to you to figure out how to fix it, but do you want me to go talk to her?” Aizawa offers with tired nonchalance.

The perpetually exhausted man has worked with Enji for so long that Azusa along with her siblings sees Aizawa as family, or a mentor at the very least. Azusa has always gone to Aizawa if she needed to talk through some stuff, especially after Toya’s passing. So, Enji ponders the offer for a minute, thinking that it may help Azusa to have someone to talk to after what all just went down.

“It’s up to you, Shota,” Enji says with a long sigh. “She may not want to talk to anyone right now.” He says with defeat, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his hands over his face.

“Well, I’ll try stopping by her bunk, knock a few times, and if she doesn’t answer then I’ll leave her be,” Aizawa says as he stands up, wincing a bit when his knees crack loudly. “Try not to spend all day cooped up in here, Enji. Go get something to eat, scare the new Rangers, just anything to get you out of this office.”

Aizawa’s attempt at humor doesn’t do much to pull Enji out of his self-loathing, but he appreciates it all the same, “See you later, Shota.”

Shota leaves with a half-assed wave and Enji is left alone with his thoughts, once again. He thinks about stopping by the family bunker to see Rei, hoping that Azusa hasn’t talked to her yet so that he can have a few moments of peace with his wife before he tells her himself about just how badly he messed up this time.

Note ~ Lemme know if there are any tags I should add! I love and appreciate you, Lovelies! <3

Taglist ~ @sweetblueworm

[burnwater13]

Concept art by Ryan Church. The Mandalorian and another fighter take on an AT-ST on the planet Sorgan. The Mandalorian, Season 1, Episode 4, Sanctuary.

“Grogu! Come on, buddy! It’s time to go!”, Din Djarin called out as he walked through the small cabin, looking for his apprentice. 

It was clear that Grogu wasn’t ready to go anywhere. His silver ‘ball’, which was really one of the knobs from the Razor Crest was still sitting in his hammock, as was the toy rancor that Boba Fett had given him the last time they were on Tatooine. The Mandalorian was surprised because he knew that Grogu was looking forward to going back to Sorgan.

Grogu had been bugging him practically non-stop over that wretched AT-ST and what it was doing on that peaceful planet since they had first seen it. Pointing out that they had both been very busy since that day did nothing to appease the former Jedi youngling. Grogu had made it plain that they had a duty to return to Sorgan and explore the planet and make sure no other Imperial junk had found it’s way there. What if there was another cloning lab? Or a secret base? Or a Sith temple? For a person who generally refused to speak Gal Basic, Grogu had found a way to make sure that Din Djarin understood his concerns. 

The Mandalorian’s counter argument had been that if the Imps had an active base on Sorgan they wouldn’t have let the Klatooinians capture the AT-ST to begin with. While Grogu grudgingly accepted that, it was clear that he thought it would be appropriate for them to confirm that condition and not just hope that’s how things might have gone. 

He had a point. Although Din Djarin didn’t believe that they’d find an active base, they could still find an old one. Or an abandoned or even hidden transport ship. They could find other Imperial detritus that could create problem for those farmers. He didn’t want that any more than Grogu had. 

Which begged the question, where the heck was Grogu? He’d wanted to make this trip and now he’d gone missing. Well, not missing, but he wasn’t in the cabin. And he didn’t have his favorite stuff, so where would he go? It had been a while since the Mandalorian had turned his bounty hunter’s mind back on and now was a perfect time to do that. 

Grogu liked to collect data, evaluate maps and star charts, and he liked to consult with people who were not his dad over them all. One deep sigh later and the Mandalorian was striding out to the N-1. Grogu was very likely talking to R5. He had a real affinity for droids and mechs and they seemed to like him right back. 

But, to his surprise, Grogu was not talking the sensors off of R5. The droid was puttering around the ship and performing minor maintenance tasks. At least the mech hadn’t decided to field strip the port engine control system. That would have slowed them down significantly, like it had the last time it happened. Now R5 consulted with the bounty hunter about all pop-up and preventative maintenance so they weren’t delayed in meeting with Captain Teva again.

He asked R5 if he’d seen Grogu and the mech nodded it’s body in the affirmative. That was good. Where did he go? The mech seemed to shrug. When did R5 last see Grogu? R5 beeped at him and the Mandalorian sighed. Apparently Grogu had been trotting toward Nevarro City an hour or so ago. Dank Farrik. 

A few minutes later, as he was grabbing his flight pack and checking the status of his personal weapons, the Mandalorian heard a knock at the door. 

Din Djarin yanked the door open and practically tore it off its hinges. 

He found himself looking IG-11-M in the optical sensors, while Grogu stood behind the Marshal.  

“Din Djarin. Apprentice Grogu has brought to my attention that equipment installed by the former Imperium may be present on the arboreal planet of Sorgan. As a duly authorized Marshal of Nevarro City I have notified the High Magistrates office of the condition and asked for direction in how to manage the request for assistance that Apprentice Grogu had made. It is my duty to notify you that this request is number two thousand one hundred and twenty forth request for assistance being evaluated by the High Magistrate’s office. It may take some time to evaluate Apprentice Grogu’s request.”

“Dank Farrik. Grogu, I told you we were leaving for Sorgan today to perform that evaluation. IG-11, you may cancel my apprentice’s request. It is not necessary.”

The Mandalorian was both annoyed and proud of Grogu. No, he didn’t want Greef Karga dealing with potential problems on Sorgan. He had enough to do on Nevarro.  But, Grogu had shown real initiative in trying to obtain assistance from their friend.

Grogu chirped at him and then ducked around the droid and jumped up to give his mentor a hug. 

“Very well. I will be tracking your progress and will re-initiate the request if you fail to report back in a timely manner, as your apprentice requested as part of his application.”

“Grogu requested that?”  Din Djarin couldn’t believe what he was hearing. 

“Affirmative. He reported that sometimes he needed to use both beskar and a lightsaber to accomplish his goal. I presume you understand his meaning, as it is not recorded in my data structures.”

“Yes. I know what he means.  Thank you, Marshal. Grogu, I suggest you pack your bag and make sure you wear your beskar. As I recall you don’t currently have access to a lightsaber.”

The Mandalorian watched IG-11-M set off toward Nevarro City while Grogu zipped into the cabin and went right to his room. Din Djarin closed the door to the cabin and walked towards his own room when he heard another knock at the door. He wondered if IG-11-M had forgotten something, but that didn’t seem likely.

He opened the door and exclaimed, “Dank Farrik!”

“Is that some sort of Mandalorian greeting? Grogu contacted me and I came here as soon as I could.” Luke Skywalker replied, looking confused. 

“Grogu!”

[taytjiefourie]

I'm writing (or planning to) a story about a killer that uses mind games and submits its victims to games of choice of life or death. Do you know any resources, blogs or anything I can check to help me with those games?

I'm sorry to disappoint you, but this is not within my area of expertise, so I don't have any specific resources to recommend. Are you going for a "Squid Game" style or something more personal? One suggestion I have is to take children's games or board games and turn them into horror scenarios.

For example, you could use the "Surgery" game as inspiration and have the killer force your characters to perform surgery on each other. If they fail, their partners die at their hands. To make it even more intense, you could give them a life-or-death choice: perform the surgery to live or refuse die.

Another idea is to play a game of "Truth or Dare" where lying or refusing the dare results in death. Make the dares harsh and the truths something that really exposes the characters. Bonus points if the whole thing is being broadcasted live on the internet and the characters are aware of it.

"Escape Room" - Set up an escape room, but make it impossible to escape without making a certain number of sacrifices. For example, the characters might have to sacrifice one of their own in order to get a key to unlock a door. Or they need to commit a certain act, like breaking someone's hand or cutting or stabbing themselves.

"Russian Roulette" - Take the classic game of chance and make it deadly. The characters have to play a game of Russian roulette, and each time they pull the trigger, there is a chance that the gun will fire and kill them.

"Jenga" - The classic tower-building game can be turned into a life-or-death situation. Each time a character pulls out a block, they have to answer a personal question. If they refuse or lie, the tower will collapse and crush one of their fellow players.

"Monopoly" - The classic board game can be turned into a game of life and death. Instead of money, the characters are playing for their lives. Each time they pass go, they gain another life. they spend lives to buy plots and if they go broke they die.

"Charades" - Turn the innocent game of charades into a deadly game of guessing. The characters have to act out a clue, but if their fellow players can't guess it in time, they will be killedor punished.

"Spin the Bottle" - In this game, the bottle decides who lives and who dies. The killer spins the bottle, and whoever it lands on has to make a choice between two deadly options.

"Two Truths and a Lie" - The game of Two Truths and a Lie becomes deadly when the characters are forced to reveal a deep, dark secret about themselves for each round. If the lie is detected, they will face dire consequences.

"Never Have I Ever" - This party game becomes a nightmare when the killer reveals that they know all of the characters' darkest secrets. If a character has done what is mentioned, they have to take a shot of poison, the more they've done the more poison they need to consume.

"The Floor is Lava" - In this childhood game, the floor is not lava, but rather, it's rigged with explosives. The characters have to make it through the room without touching the floor, or they risk setting off the explosives and killing everyone.

"Tag" - This classic game becomes a fight for survival when the characters are tagged by the killer. Once they're tagged, they have to perform a task or solve a puzzle to avoid being killed. If they fail, they're out of the game permanently.

"Hangman" - In this classic word-guessing game, each time a character guesses a wrong letter, a body part of their partner is hanged. If they guess the word correctly, their partner is saved.

"Red Light, Green Light" - In this game, one player is "it" and the others have to try to reach a certain point without getting caught. However, if the "it" player catches them moving when they say "red light", they will be killed. If the 'it' player doesn't play along they die instead.

"Hot Potato" - In this game, a ticking bomb is passed around and the characters have to keep passing it to avoid being blown up. However, if they drop the bomb or hold onto it too long, it will explode, killing them.

"Battleship" - In this classic game of strategy, the characters are playing for their lives. Each time a character's ship is sunk, they have to sacrifice one of their own to stay in the game.

Again, I apologize that I can't offer any specific resources as I don't know where to look. Good luck with your writing!

[aglaean]

"Come now, bundle up. The frost will leave your fingers soon enough if you keep warm." It was nothing short of a coo, fur lined blanket tucked over her shoulders. The rest of her scrapes and scathes could be mended with a healing touch, the after effects of a spell they would rather treat formally and aid any lingering ailments once restoration had merely taken it's path.

"I fear my hearing may be failing me as I am yet to hear one tale of the Princess of Rausten's greatness on the plains. It appears the task falls upon you to share your own triumphs with me." A pout, performative and prodding, took shape on their lips. Whilst there was an earnest interest in her tales, there was the undeniable need to keep her still and bundled till she was no longer in threat of losing her fingers.

"The highs and the lows of course. To hear the struggles and the triumphs makes for a better tale, does it not?” A ploy despite their earnest interest in how she fared, for the right detail could shed light on an ailment otherwise missed.

Having been instructed, multiple times, to remain seated and wait for some feeling to come back into the rosy digits that had once before been her fingers, L’Arachel is finally resolved.

She ought to comply, if only to appease the healers. If it would cheer their hearts, and perhaps too, the hearts of every denizen of this temple of healing arts, to see her obedience, the gentility with which she acquiesed to their tender pleas that she kindly stop trying to rally fallen students by yelling encouragment and generally being a nuisance then who was she to refuse! A hero served the people, after all. 

It was only that an age seemed to have passed, and her fingers remained stubbornly unresponsive.

Levelling a glare at them that would’ve certainly sent any mere mortal scurrying towards the nearest shelter, she lamented her own impenatrability. Woe indeed, that she should be so blessed as to be impervious to any intimidation, including her own!

Normally, her fingers were all too eager to service her every command. From couching her lance, to twirling her staff, to adjusting her hair-ties. Each and every action performed with grace and refinement! But now they were dead, and cold. Emptied out of animation, and turned traitor to her cause. 

She was about to try her hand (although, as this very same hand was being so uncooperative perhaps the turn of phrase was unapt) at some vocal lambastment, when something warm and heavy presses upon her shoulders. Looking up, she spies a familiar face. 

‘But this is a perfect mantle!’ She exclaims, burrowing herself deeper within its furred folds, bunching the fabric around her hands. The question of its origins didn’t venture into her mind. It was hardly worth consideration when other matters of far greater significance demanded her attention.

Emerging from her newly acquired coverings, she peeks upwards, meeting their gaze. ‘And how fare you, Arval?’ 

At the mention of her shamefully unrecorded but utterly daring exploits, L’Arachel flushes a (deeply becoming) red, excitment taught and tense within every muscle of her body.

That no ballads had yet been composed, no choirs formed to sing her praises was a remarkable shame; but if she must turn her own chronicler, she would take the burden with boundless humility and grace. 

Her thumb twitches, and she feels it this time. No doubt the memory of her endeavours, which, no matter the outcome had certainly been a sight to see, was restorative.

Directing a stealthy eye towards Arval, bearer of furred blankets, she smiles. Perhaps they too were in need of such a potage. 

‘Come, sit at my side.’ Patting a space next to her on the cot, L’Arachel generously extends a sliver of the blanket towards her companion. ‘I have a tale to tell.’ 

[1indigoisles]

Chapter 1 - Excerpt 3

The few mornings after that were as grey and lifeless as the last one. I wondered as I woke, not for the first time, how the people here could wake up to this almost every morning and still have the energy to start their day and do whatever a regular life demands of them. For even after a good night’s sleep I felt tired, the kind of tired that I wasn’t sure would be easily remedied by a cup of coffee. Maybe half a dozen could work.

I shook my head. I was being pathetic.

I forced myself out of bed and got ready for school.

In the bathroom, I stared at myself in the mirror as I brushed my teeth. Fair skin was part of my genetics, and so was my gangly height of six feet, which did no favours to my breadth. My facial features were too-sharp and my body was lean (the gym and I have a difficult relationship). My hair was an ordinary brown with a coppery tint to it that refused to stay neat, and my eyes, deep-set, were leaf-green.

There was nothing much remarkable about me. I sighed and spit the minty toothpaste out.

Lila, on the other hand, was pretty. She had hair redder than mine, a Madonna-like face with high, sloping cheekbones, and green eyes that were always lively.

When I was done criticizing myself in the bathroom, I took a shower and wore an ordinary faded red sweatshirt and loose jeans.

I went downstairs.

Lila was, naturally, awake, and bustling about the kitchen, performing multiple tasks at once, as was her way, such as juggling her steaming hot cup of coffee in one hand, while trying to explain to her new-found friend, Catherine, who seemed to keep surprisingly military hours, all the reasons why she could go down to the book-store with her after she came back home at eight ‘o’ clock in the evening over the phone, that was, by the way, sandwiched between her ear and her corresponding shoulder. At the same time, she was trying to pack our food (she’d always insisted on home-made for first days at school). It might all end in disaster. No, it probably would end in disaster. It’s Lila we’re talking about, after all.

“Lila, don’t keep your coffee cup so close to the edge of the counter!” I grumbled as she accidentally pushed it off in order to turn to me as I came down the stairs.

The cup made crash-landing, but it was plastic, so it didn’t break. Burning-hot black coffee infiltrated the floor of the kitchen and splashed against the previously pristine white cupboards, curved layers of coffee-brown partially covering them. On the ground, the liquid pooled like water.

Lila, on the other hand, had jumped back five miles, dropped her phone onto a fuzzy carpet, and was looking at me reproachfully.

With a mental curse I said, “oh, god.” And, shaking my head, I came the rest of the way down the stairs, walked past Lila, and opened a cabinet with cleaning towels in it.

I picked a white one with bright red stripes, and handed it to Lila, who gratefully took it.

I picked one out for myself, an orange one with black boats patterned on, and sighed, “come on, Lila.” And after selecting other cleaning weapons of our choice, we dived into the mess.

So obviously, it was with easy conversation and synchronised working that we went our separate ways.

Lila would lock herself up in her office with her laptop and an assortment of files, documents and fidget-toys, whereas I would shimmy on my bike and make my way to Knightville High School.

***********

At the gates of Knightville High, I stopped.

I looked at my bike, which was parked (squeezed) between two cars, then I gazed back at my new school once more.

The building was greyer and duller than any other building I’d ever seen. It wasn’t too tall, four storeys high, maybe, with Knightville High School written in huge red letters at the entrance.

I gulped. Who was I kidding? I was nervous as hell, which was totally idiotic; I’d done this a million times now.

Maybe it was just the fear of being in the spotlight, the downright unfriendly atmosphere of Knightville, or I was probably just way in over my head, suddenly overcome with the totally irrational desire to get on my bike and ride back to DC.

Or, I told myself sternly, I’m overthinking the entire thing, and I should stop dawdling at the front of the school gates and just get it over with already.

So, thinking this, I took a deep breath, and went in.