#over some murder hobo at that

[maegalkarven]

We know what it wasn't a big secret to the cult of Bhaal what their Chosen (Durge) is a lil (a lot) obsessed with the Chosen of Bane.

Orin def told everyone who would listen about it, as Balthazar's note on "Prayer for Forgiveness" might imply.

But have we thought about the other side of this?

How many of Bane's servants present at Gortash's coronation saw Durge and went "Ugh, not them again. ANYONE but them. Dark Lord Bane, we serve you well and do not deserve this".

How many of banites had to watch their Chosen act like a lovesick fool at his own coronation and tried very hard not to cringe?

Like bhaalists were not pleased with their Chosen's affections, but I bet Gortash was INSUFFERABLE with Durge by his side.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Would i be the ass hole if i added the racist songs from the 40s to my fallout character playlists?

Fallout fans don't rip me too hard with how much I'm watering it down. I promise its just for the people who don't play the games or know the lore

So character playlists are a hit right now (i see you thirsty Leon fans) i started making my own for something that kind of missed out on the craze: Fallout 4.

Theres a lot of 'fantasy racism' in the game against people who mutated with the radiation, super mutants ect ect. And a character who its more apparent with is a Military esk fraction leader called Maxson who has a good reason to hate them but the playlist i had in mind for him is very military themed but some of the songs do kinda rub me a little wrong but in the cannon the racism isn't directed at those minorities anymore: ie, you're a sap mr jap doesn't hold the same amount of water since Asians aren't hunted down like they were before the end of the world, you interact with them as you would anyone else unless they're hostile to you (or you're being a murder hobo). I grew up around a lot of casual racism and I've unlearnt a lot of it so i don't know if this is me over thinking it or its actually a no no. So would i be an asshole?

What are these acronyms?

[y-rhywbeth2]

"Myrkul [compared to some gods, is autonomous] obeys no one but is influenced by Bhaal and Bane..."

I love this weird connection the Dead Three have with each other and how it never seems to go away completely. I don't think co-dependency is quite the word for it, but they're just utterly toxic for each other, keep fucking each other over, and somehow they keep coming back to this alliance. For some reason the opinion of the others holds sway!

Like Bane is... Bane. He thinks he doesn't need anybody and everyone is subservient to him! He's allergic to his own capacity to enjoy things or feel emotional attachments to people. He just fundamentally can't compute when he cares about someone. Why is he upset they're dead? Bane doesn't know! He also only got as far into the Time of Troubles as he did because he has Myrkul backing him up. He still kind of depends on the other two and at least once upon a time had respect for Bhaal.

Bhaal needs the other two to keep his murder hoboing in check, and they seem to be the only beings in the universe who can (or are permitted by Bhaal) to do so. Myrkul left him unsupervised for a week once and Bhaal ended up getting distracted trying to kill winged ponies and then got killed, ruining his and Myrkul's plan.

Myrkul, by all accounts, is shooting himself in the foot every time he agrees to work with these idiots and he keeps doing it. Some descriptions have assigned gods mortal-like feelings, wants and needs, so like, is he lonely or what? Myrkul's charisma is abysmal by mortal standards; by divine standards a landfill of rancid trash has more appeal (he spent the last stretch of the Time of Troubles in a sewer, talking to zombies and himself). Bhaal is basically his only friend in existence (Bane is... there. Myrkul doesn't exactly like him, and yet he still works with him.)

The last time these idiots cooperated Bane destroyed Bhaal's worshipper base and got himself killed and thus left Myrkul in a mess, then Bhaal got killed due to murderhoboing and left Myrkul even further in this mess, and somehow the 15th century rolled around and these three agreed to work together again. Working together worked so well last time! What is wrong with you.

[banes-favourite]

I've seen the idea of Durge basically being Gortash's sugar baby in a way with Gortash using his money to spoil them. But I haven't seen anything about the idea of it being flipped which I think could work too(also I just find it amusing because it would completely subvert any outward expectations).

Durge literally kills people for a living which is very lucrative, as shown by how rich you can get by just being a murder hobo who loots the bodies of those you kill in game. There's also the possibility of Durge taking bounties or being hired for assassinations. If I remember correctly Bhaal also encourages his followers to seek out the wealth that they can gain from murder.

So Durge could definitely be secretly loaded up on cash. Also it would make their possible "murder hobo who lives in the sewer" appearance even funnier since they'd definitely be rich enough to choose to not look like that but just don't for some reason. Maybe they just don't feel any need to use any of their wealth, since they don't need to use much if any of it to survive and they may not have any interest in buying stuff for themself to enjoy for various reasons. So they could easily just have a ton of gold piling up

It's also shown in game through letters and stuff that Gortash basically manipulate mansplain manwhored his way to power and did things like sleep with people to get money(so essentially already a canonical sugar baby). So there's full possibility that he could have power more through influence and manipulation rather than through actually being extremely rich. And even if he's rich at this point he could still be a sugar baby to durge

And it's just overall really funny to imagine this politician/archduke in all of his fancy filigree and clothing be like "oh actually I'm the sugar baby in this relationship. They're the sugar daddy" and he points over at this feral, blood covered murder hobo who's eating someone's severed arm in the corner of the room

(Also Gortash getting a chance to be pampered and spoiled and cherished for once in his life without really even having to do anything other than exist as himself is such a great concept. I imagine durge would give him stuff casually and seemingly arbitrarily. Maybe Durge would feel very pleased seeing Gortash doing speeches and stuff in public while fully dressed in clothing that they got for him)

i am completely normal about this idea i am completely normal about this idea i am completely normal about this idea

in all seriousness, i am NOt normal about this idea because holy shit the potential in this?? the hilarity of durge choosing to look like a gory street rat when they can definitely afford clothes?? gort being showered with gifts just for existing bc he's that hot and cute and endearing?? gortash probably thinking he achieved this by smooth talking durge over, but in reality durge just likes seeing him smile when he gets a new gift?? also just, Lord Gortash proudly parading around wearing the trendiest clothes and Durge watching from the sidelines like 'I'm so proud of you sweetie' IM CRYING ANON THIS IDEA IS PERFECTION

[everlastingremorse-blog]

The Rat Grinders are Minmaxers

I’ve been thinking through a lot of the discourse surrounding the bad kids and their immediate dislike of the Rat Grinders, and how it’s not fair and all that stuff.

And that is important to consider, but it took me awhile to realize how un-fun it would be to play in a group of rat grinders.

Like Brennan said in an earlier adventuring party (and I am paraphrasing), “this year we get to see what it’s like when being an adventurer means going on adventures.”

Like, in earlier seasons, Aguefort would go on some long tangent about how adventuring is enacting violence in order to change the world.

Not that I completely agree with that assertion, but it’s also true that there is a narrative in DND, thus there are narrative arcs. Going on an adventure in DND means having personal arcs exploring how your character’s motivations are changing and interacting with the world. One of my favorite parts of Dungeons and Drag Queens was seeing these new players get really invested in their characters.

And then there are minmaxers. Now if you don’t know, Minmaxers are players that really optimize their character to game the system. Think Evan Kelmp. He’s set up in a way to prioritize fighting over anything else.

Now Kelmp is a bit of an exception, as most Minmaxers tend to (at least from what I’ve seen) avoid roleplay, while Brennan made Kelmp explicitly for roleplay. In other words, Minmaxers don’t make good stories.

And I think that’s for two reasons:

1. If all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail. Having a character built to fight (and that’s how most Minmaxed DND characters are built, according to me) means you’re going to use fighting as a solution. Why try to convince someone when your dumb stat is charisma and you could probably kill them easily if you tried. Murder hobos are bad for stories.

2. It’s impressive, the first time. Don’t get me wrong, Minmaxers show a strong mastery of the system they’re working in. Just like the rat grinders. They’ve gotten to a real high level by (in my opinion) a flaw in the system, and it’s a fun loophole… the first time I saw it. If there is no story (no quest that you’re going on) then it’s going to just be boring grinding. It’s like looking at a painting in a museum. You can look at it. Examine it. Think about it like a painter, and then like an art critic. Read some analysis of the work, but eventually I want to move on. I might come back later, but I’ll hit a limit on what I can do. I can be impressed by the mastery of the system, now what? Now they go back to grinding rats.

And that’s why I dislike the rat grinders. They are adventures, but they don’t go on adventures. They just gamed the system. They followed the rules without following their spirit. And I’d hate to play a game with players like that.

But hey, things are looking up. Obviously, the rat grinders have a lot going on that we just don’t know yet. There is a story there, and I can’t wait to see it.

Also they have a really hot drago———

*sounds of muffled horny screams as I’m dragged off into the distance.*

[dmbakura]

I've been doing the evil run in bg3 and I can say it's very much not worth it from a story perspective 💀 but I feel like it does a very good job of making your actions have consequences. The new combat encounters it provides can be pretty interesting, though I also fucked myself over for one of the boss fights lmao. So my run so far has been:

-I did NOT side with the goblins, so I was able to recruit Karlach, Wyll and Halsin. I honestly regret this because it makes 0 sense for them to stick around for the other evil shit I've done and every dialogue with them is especially scathing. They are MISERABLE in my camp

-followed Kar'niss to moonrise and didn't kill him for the moon lantern. This turned out to massively bite me in the ass because it turns out if you don't kill him earlier, he WILL appear in Ketheric's boss fight at the top of the tower and I wasn't equipped to deal with that so I temporarily lowered the difficulty from tactician to balanced to get through that fight 💀

-killed Isobel and lost the last light inn (after doing associated quests in it, karlach's engine and thaniel) which was bad enough on its own, I then LIED TO JAHEIRA that I didn't do it, which again felt more awful than if I had just killed her outright. Now I can recruit her for act 3 and she'll be non the wiser that I got all her harpers killed for new jim jams (the only upside to this is the slayer form is pretty awesome, pictured below)

-in addition to the above point, literally everyone else in the party thinks you're a dumbfuck for killing Isobel. Even Minthara. Everyone Disliked That

-had Shadowheart kill Aylin and become a Dark Justiciar. Literally why would you do this. I mean it did give her some pretty sick buffs but I fucking felt the loss of Aylin in the later boss fights, and the cutscene you get in the shadowfell is vastly inferior to the freeing Aylin cinematic. Overall do not recommend this

I just reached act 3 but rest assured my bad decisions will not stop here. You already know who I'm ascending 🤪 anyways my advice for an evil run is to just go full murder hobo and sacrifice some of those companions/their extra story content. The psychic damage is not worth keeping them around.

[valiantverses]

The Azrael Series: Chapter Two

(Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader Slowburn/Sort of Enemies to Friends to Lovers)

°°°°°

Summary: Task Force 141 is assigned a new member to deal with Makarov for good. Highly-skilled, brutally efficient and devastatingly competent, Ghost has met his match - and finds himself at odds with the SAS Fraternization Regulations as getting to know you makes him re-evaluate a life he never thought to allow himself.

CW: Canon-typical violence.

°°°°°

@beansproutmafia @chinuneko @agustdpeach @murder-hobo

Introduction 1 2

"We've not gotten much out of the drive m' afraid. We've got cyber forensics and analysts going over the files - far as Makarov's movements, we've got nothin' of note."

The briefing room's atmosphere was a degree short of despair. Papers strewn about, stale cups of coffee and tea haphazardly pushed to the side as Laswell's Toughbook blinked to life, showing the results of the hard won drive the 141 had retrieved a couple of days prior.

Ghost had opted to stand during the meeting, taking up his usual spot with a full view of the room. Most of the team had elected to sit around the metal tables, the briefing now on its third hour - not quite as brief as one would hope, he thought.

He watched Gaz lean back into a stretch, arms opening wide and settling at the back of your chair. You glanced up at the sergeant briefly before turning back to the neatly stacked piles of documents in front of you, poring over the mind-numbing reports and occasionally making notes.

Your integration into the group - Johnny and Gaz, anyway - had not been seamless from his observations, but the sergeants had been as open as could reasonably be expected from their personalities, and you seemed to be reciprocating - or trying to, anyway.

"Ach - not even in the emails? Employee profiles?"

Johnny piped up, unable to hide the annoyance that darkened his features. Ghost had noticed the Scot had been mellower in recent months. Maybe even years - ever since Zakhaev, at least - the burden of their profession was a continuous wear and tear on the mind and soul for those who hadn't locked away parts of themselves like he had. Like his boots, gloves, tactical vests, the work pushed and pulled at soldiers, clawing and scratching till it had to be replaced, patched up, or discarded.

Conveniently, Ghost mused, replaced, patched up, or discarded were the same three fates most soldiers stumbled into.

Johnny knew what this job meant, had experienced it firsthand, and still continued to shoulder the responsibilities. Ghost was intimately familiar with the drive to push through and respected that need - even if it meant watching a part of his comrade wither away.

Laswell sighed, rubbing her temples as she looked up from her computer to meet Johnny's eyes.

"All legitimate, tracing back to businesses or third party contractors."

"All fer nothin' then, was it?"

Price, who had opted to stand as well with his arms crossed, chose this moment to speak up.

"It's hard to imagine the ultranationalists just went and gave up after Zakhaev's death."

At this, Soap leaned back a bit, shifting his whole attention on to price. Ghost remembered reading the reports, how shattered Soap had been over Zakhaev when he got back from S.A.S. recon in Mexico.

"We know Makarov is well trained in counterinsurgency from his time in Airborne and the Spetznaz, but there must be a link somewhere - you don't move weapons and people on the scale he does without having some kind of paper trail."

You chose this moment to speak up, hand still carefully taking down notes as you pored over the files in front of you.

"You mentioned contractors. May we have a list?"

Laswell glanced up at surprise at you before switching to a different tab. It was true that you hadn't been particularly vocal in your time at the base, keeping your distance from most of the upper brass.

"Gutter cleaners, vehicle upkeep, insurance inspections, air conditioning installation, occupational health and safety reviews, catering-"

He watched you smile, that was that same wry smirk, the same twist of the lips that pulled at your face and made your eyes quirk in such a way that-

He jerked his head to the side, keeping his eyes trained on Laswell's computer.

"Couldn't imagine air conditioning would be on my list of priorities, in a winter desert."

Wordlessly, Laswell pulled her laptop closer to her, instantly beginning to pore over the emails sent by the air conditioning company. Price and Johnny shared a look when Laswell made a hum of approval.

"Seems this company uses a really simple order form template, copy and pasted- not really something you'd expect of a company taking orders at this volume."

Gaz reached over, leaning over the table to point at the screen.

"Subject: Notice of equipment upgrade. In our ongoing efforts to enhance the performance of our air-conditioning units, Our technicians will be overseeing the delivery and installation of a package containing the latest components aimed at optimizing energy efficiency. Your cooperation during this upgrade process is greatly appreciated."

He whistled, leaning back in his chair. "They've 'upgraded' their air-conditioning 11 times in the past 4 months.'

You didn't even acknowledge the discovery, still buried in the files. It strangely grated at him, this nonchalance of yours- but surely it was better than the callous sort of arrogance many soldiers at your level possessed? He respected good soldiers, especially those fighting alongside him. But you... there was something different about you.

He was aware of the glaring hypocrisy, to question someone's integrity because of the walls they put up when he himself wore a mask to distance himself from who he was outside of the battlefield.

But you wore a different kind of mask.

He had noticed, during brief moments where your professionalism didn't so much crack as it distended- like a rubber band warping after being pulled apart too strong. There was a smouldering fire beneath the glacial shell of duty you wore. It flickered sometimes, a molten glint in your eyes or a wry quirk of your lips, hinting at a real live breathing person within.

That ferocity had sparked your first clash in the mountains, tangled limbs and shared breaths in thin air, his gaze tracing the map of your face as he tried to determine your motives, whether or not he could trust you. Then there was the hangar, your quiet confidence grating against his need for control. An unlikely pair, yet you'd executed the mission flawlessly. Rolled with the punches and gotten through it all.

Though his face betrayed nothing, his mind buzzed with thoughts as he went over your latest interactions - outrage at your audacity, annoyance at your nonchalance, and a strange reluctance to let go of the distruption you caused, one he wouldn't- couldn't, try to understand the root of.

Beyond it all, he had to admit, was a begrudging sort of respect.

"8 payments have been made this quarter alone to the HVAC company - all worth tens of thousands."

"Drip feedin' Makarov's extra curriculars I take it- any ID on the company behind it Laswell?"

"Northwest of the Caucausus mountains. I'll clear it through Shepherd."

He saw your lips quirk down into a frown at Laswell's words, clearly unhappy about something. He tore his eyes away, accidentally locking gazes with Price, who tossed a raised his eyebrow his way. He maintained eye contact, unwilling to look away first and crossing his arms when Price shook his head and muttered something under his breath.

"We should-" it was the first time he'd ever heard you sound even the tiniest bit hesitant. "We should look into Makarov's known contacts. See who's benefitting from his actions that may be flying under the radar. All of them, even known hostile connections."

There was an implication to your words that Ghost didn't like, and he voiced it.

"Looks like we're already drownin' in information and more questions than answers. Want to send us on a wild goose chase when we don't even know if there's a goose to chase, do ya?"

He could see your jaw tense the tiniest bit as you turned to him, eyes hard.

"All I'm saying is that - paramilitary operations do not function in a vacuum, sir. Terrorist attacks require weapons, and those weapons require logistics to distribute, processing, manufacturing - everything does. The fact that we've run into nothing might suggest we're being walled off from information by design."

There was it- that spark, like flint and steel crashing together. He approached the table, placing both hands on it as he lowered himself to look at you directly in the eyes. When he spoke, his voice was rough, taking on a gravelly quality.

"We've been working on this for years and you've been here a month- if you could focus on your job instead of speculating on facts that aren't there maybe you could actually get the job you were assigned to do done, sergeant."

"Yes, sir." You gritted out, lips thinning. He could see in the tenseness of your shoulders that had he not been your superior this discussion would have been more drawn out.

But your words were beyond inflammatory - they were dangerous and put into question the very foundation of the chain of command that the operation was centered on. You would have to learn that these were thoughts best kept to yourself - it was clear to him that you lacked experience and maybe even the humility that came from working with teammates.

Relaxing his shoulders, he turned to regard the group, realizing that several pairs of eyes were now glancing between you and him with varying levels of confusion and surprise. Laswell, closing her laptop with a neat click, spoke first.

"I think we got it. This corporation has two locations- we'll do some recon and get a plan going, try and positively ID any key people. Great catch, Azrael. I sense this is something big."

You shifted the tiniest bit, simply nodding in response. He hadn't seen you handle direct compliments very well - the military did acknowledgements at most.

You remained quiet for the rest if the briefing and the dismissal after, studiously going over old files, not meeting his eyes again.

"LT! I think we need ourselves a little celebration to welcome our little Sherlock here, aye?"

You mumbled a bit, shuffling as the Scotsman draped an arm over you and patted your arm.

"Just identified an anomaly in the information- is all-"

"None of that now, gawn yerself! We got an ol' teammate comin' with us, Roach, I reckon you'll like 'im."

"I think it would really help your case if you could speak English, McTavish." Ghost remarked, dryly. He had been ready to leave and stretch his legs after leaning up against cold concrete for closing in on 4 hours.

"Alright- not sure about drinking, with the mission coming up soon, but I'll go."

"Ach pure brilliant, so it is. Gaz! You're drivin'! No fun juice for you m'fraid."

There was a groan from inside the communal area, then a smattering of mutters of which if Ghost were a betting man, he'd say could give any sailor a run for their money.

"What d'ya say LT?" He turned back to two sets of eyes, yours a strained sort of amusement, before he leaned back and rested his hands on the straps of his vest.

"Fuckin' hell. You're buyin', Johnny."

There was outraged sputtering, so Scottish it was indecipherable, before he turned to leave. His eyes locked with yours for a split second, assessing. Then he broke connection and made his way back to his barracks, his mind lingering.

He wondered what you were like away from it all.

Away from Azrael.

You seemed like more of a person than he allowed himself to be - but that remained to be seen.

Tonight, the echoes of questions would be drowned at the bottom of a bottle.

°°°°°

Translation for the Soapese:

Gawn yerself: Go on yourself (You're doing really good)

[scarletevening]

j a teaser/ test for the enxt chapter in my ghost x medic! reader.

please give me some insight/ critique cause im really in a ditch rn.

simon riley x medic! reader, chap 3 teaser, simons perspective.

Apparently, medical files were just as easily tricked by pretty brown eyes as you were. Because last time you checked, which was definitely not two or three minutes ago, Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley was not stated to have any tattoos. 

Blinking in surprise, you watched as the hunk of muscle dashed at the other figure across the sand, white mask reflecting the light of the sun as he moves. 

-

Eyes sharp, shoulders relaxed, lunging forward, I meet Johnny’s eyes as I grapple his shoulders and shove him to the ground, a laugh sounding from the man below me,

“Unfair, L.T.!”

My lips tease a smile, growling back,

“Don’t think so, Sargent,”

He laughs when I release him, helping him back up to his feet. Usually, I wasn’t one to skimp out on training, but I’d much rather waste my time listening to Johnny ramble on about the dog he’s been thinking of getting than doing any more combative training. 

His eyes fall behind my face, his elbow coming to nudge my arm as he grins, 

“Y’know L.T. I think me and that medic—”

“Quiet, Johnny.” 

I warn, watching as his eyes go wide, the devil’s smile gracing his lips as he raises his arm and waves at her. I take a sharp breath, groaning as my hand tightens into a fist.

“Hi Soap, Ghost.”

She smiles. I can feel it, even though my back was facing her. I sigh, hopefully she didn’t take it the wrong way as I glance over my shoulder, turning slowly,

“Mornin’, Doc.”

“Heya, Bonnie.”

Johnny grins, standing closer than he needs to before you. He knows, he just won’t say it. I glare to my side, staring down at his half-shaved head. It was impossible to keep my eyes away from her, her damn brilliant smile, eyes curving into half crescents as they look up to meet mine. 

My eyes shift back to hers, my stomach turning at the way she giggles and smiles at Johnny, at fucking Soap. How her hands rest on her hips, her hair springing out from around her face, she was clearly mid-shift. He didn’t notice.

I did.

------

uhm.... thats all so lmk if i should keep it like this or burn it!! taglist: @141trash, @thriving-n-jiving, @agorophobicreader, @murder-hobo @strawberrygato idk if this is something taglist worthy, sorry if it isnt.

EYES THAT HOLD SECRETS

directory

[my-own-walker]

Jpm x reader who find the hidden hallways and rooms and takes the chance to murder a hobo, James (whether they are close or not) catches her and she replies 'Just a hobo, do you disprove' just like he did with the countess

A Well-Respected Man

note: been so busy recently. i still luv u all! taking liberties with this request (aka i know you didn't ask for smut but i wanna write it)

warnings: quick sm*t, wall f*cking, murder, violence, blood, stabbing, misogynistic stuff

+++

I floated through the halls of the third floor in a dream. I couldn't tell if I liked being dead yet. There were no more consequences to my actions. I didn't have to choose to live every day. The lavishly decorated hallway felt different now.

When you're alive, you rush. You want to experience as much as possible before your time runs out. Eternal life in death is far different. I walked slowly through the hallway, examining each and every door, bumps in the carpet, and water stains on the ceiling.

I ran my hand along the wall and felt the texture of the orate wallpaper. The patterns were raised and felt rough against my fingertips.

Out of sheer curiosity, I began trying doorknobs. The doors were not locked. Each one opened with ease and to my surprise, led nowhere. I raised an eyebrow at the revelation. I suppose one doesn't usually try the doors to suites in a hotel out of respect for other guests, hence the lack of regard for locking these decoys.

One door stood out to me, nestled quietly at the very end of the hallway. The others were outset from the wall, accented by wood molding around their edges. This door was flush with the wall. A feeble attempt at hiding it in plain sight. I tried the knob and it was, in fact, locked.

Fuck, I said inwardly. Under the impression that my exploration has been thwarted, I spun on my heel and began walking away. It hadn't yet dawned on me that being a ghost meant locked doors and keys had become antiquated items.

It took my inclination to simply appear upstairs, rather than take the elevator, to remind me of my new abilities. Within a moment, I was standing in front of the enticing door, ready to see what was inside.

Behind its decorative facade, the entrance housed a dreary, dark hallway. One that led back in the direction from which I came. This was what those pointless doors were hiding. I wandered down the corridor. It was cold and unwelcoming. It sounded as if the hotel's pipes ran through along the ceiling. Sounds of rushing water washed over my head sporadically.

At the very end of the long passage was something in the wall akin to a trash or laundry chute. I opened the metal door and soft light came streaming through. It was jarring to be afforded that much visibility so unexpectedly. I squinted and peered through, finding it was a multi-story drop down to what looked like a basement.

The cement floor was spattered with what I could only assume was blood, and I thought I could spot a body part of some sort. It was a body chute. I shrugged and closed the opening, bored with my attempt at exploration.

+

Days later, my need for fun had not been satisfied. Being a ghost was frankly, a bore. The building was full of secret passageways and doors, all of which led to essentially nothing. I was hoping to find cult activities or a blood sacrifice within these hidden places, not empty hallways.

James was giving me space and time to adjust, but instead, I simply felt insane boredom. On this particular day, I spent my time in the bar overlooking the lobby, trying to spot any new blood that took the misstep of entering The Cortez. It seemed on this day, the hotel was not going to provide me with entertainment.

That was, until, I heard a male voice speaking loudly in the empty, near-silent lobby. I hopped down from my bar stool and rushed to the railing of the balcony, hanging over it to see what the commotion was about.

'Careful, Y/N, you could fall,' Liz quipped with a wink. 'You wouldn't want to get hurt.' I looked back at her over my shoulder and smiled. She thought she was oh-so-funny.

'Hello?' the male voice shouted. I turned my head once again in the direction of the sound.

'Oh, just go down there,' Liz sighed. 'I don't feel like dealing with that.'

With her permission, I practically flew down to the lobby and across its geometric carpeting. A man with long, stringy grey hair and a dirty beard stood just in front of the hotel's entrance. He stood hunched, wearing a large coat, stained jeans, and a tattered backpack. he stared off at one of the art pieces we had hanging on the wall.

I cleared my throat to announce my presence. 'Can I help you?' I asked politely.

'I don't know, can you?' the man replied sarcastically.

'Do you need a room?' I tried.

'Only if it's free,' he laughed, looking right through me. 'I obviously can't afford to pay.' He gestured grandly at his appearance.

'We don't do free rooms,' I replied bluntly.

'Can I at least get something to eat?' he questioned with an impatient tone.

'You'll have to go somewhere else, sir. We don't do charity here,' I crossed my arms and popped my hip.

'Excuse me?'

'You heard me. No handouts,' I stated.

'Well then, I'll stand here until someone more qualified comes to talk to me,' he huffed. 'Preferably a man.'

'A man?' I scoffed.

'You women have no understanding of how things work. Get me your superior,' he declared. I chewed my lip in annoyance. How dare he insult my gender? How dare he be picky when he so obviously needed help?

'You know what,' I began, 'I do believe we have somewhere you can stay.'

'Don't be fucking with me, girl,' he spat.

'Follow me,' I instructed. He did as told, remaining on my heels as I passed over to reception, grabbing the key to a special room on the third floor from the hook behind the desk. I also made sure to slide Iris' emergency switchblade she kept under the desk into my sleeve.

The man and I took the elevator to the third floor, standing in awkward silence as we went up. The ornate hallways of the third floor flew by in a wash, my periphery blurred by blind rage toward this person. He walked behind me down the long hallway, all the way to the inset locked door. I slid the key into the lock slowly and turned it.

Just as the lock clicked open, though, the man broke the silence. 'Anyone tell you you got a tight ass?' he remarked as his open palm smacked my rear end.

'What?' I replied, shocked, contorting my expression to one of disgust.

'Hey, don't act all grossed out,' he asserted, throwing his hands up. 'You're asking for it, dressed like that and all.' I practically kicked the door open and gestured for the man to enter. He sauntered past me cockily and paused at the entrance. 'It's dark in here.'

I pushed his back with force, causing him to stumble further into the darkness. I slammed the door behind me and rounded on him.

'Hey, what the fuck?' he shouted, panic creeping into his tone. I pushed him again, knocking him onto his ass. 'Hey! Stop!'

'Not so cocky now, huh?' I teased. He scrambled backward down the corridor, trying to make it back up onto his feet. I kicked his chest, causing him to crash down onto his back. 'Fucking apologize.'

'F-for what?' the man stammered, panting in fear. I pulled the switchblade out of my sleeve and flicked it open. Its sharp edge glinted beautifully.

'You fucking pig,' I spat. He began to scream in terror, still trying to clamor away from me.

'Help!' he screamed, still unable to make it onto his feet. I continued to back him toward the end of the corridor. 'HELP!'

'You can scream as loud as you want. In fact, I prefer it,' I smiled. 'Beg for your life.'

'P-please! Let me go! I'm sorry!' he pleaded. I stooped down to his level and grabbed his shirt collar, holding him firmly in place. I pressed the blade to his neck and smirked.

'Too late,' I whispered. I slid the cold metal across his flesh and watched as dark red blood spilled out. It was much more blood than I was expecting. For fun, I continued stabbing the man. I slashed at his skin repeatedly, grunting and screaming as I went. His blood spattered all over my body. I reveled in how it felt.

When I was sure he was gone, I grabbed the hood of his thick coat and began pulling his body to the chute. Unfortunately for me, it didn't occur to me that this man would be heavy and that his dead weight would be nearly impossible to move. I tugged and pulled, moving him only slightly with each exertion.

'Fuck!' I yelled. 'You're even more fucking annoying when you're dead!'

'Darling?' a familiar voice spoke. I nearly jumped out of my skin. I spun on my heel to find James suddenly behind me. It must have been quite a sight to take in. 'Who is that?'

'Just a homeless man,' I said plainly. James took a moment to process, smoothing his mustache with two fingers. 'Do you disapprove?'

'No, no,' James contended. 'I've just, never seen you like this.' He took my cheek in his hand and gave me a kiss on the forehead. I sighed in relief at the gesture.

'Can you give me a hand, then?' I asked. laughing a bit.

'Gladly, my little hummingbird,' he cooed. We both worked to hoist the man up and through the chute. His body landed with a sickening smack on the concrete below. I hopped to the front of the door to look down at the carnage. James' arms snaked around me, one hand resting on my chest, the other on my tummy.

'Thank you,' I breathed, resting my head back on his body. 'He was a piece of shit.'

'Mmm?' James vocalized into my ear. 'How so?'

'He assaulted me as I was doing him a kindness. Smacked my backside,' I answered. James spun me around and held me by my shoulders.

'A well-respected man would never treat a woman like that,' he gasped. 'You did the world a service in killing that animal.'

'I know,' I grinned.

'A well-respected man treats women like this,' James said lowly, pulling me in close. His lips met mine tenderly. I backed up to rest my body on the wall. We made out passionately. With his body pressed up against mine, I could feel a bulge grow in his trousers. He peppered his lips along my collarbones and breasts. I shrugged the cardigan I was wearing off my arms.

While James continued to kiss every square inch of exposed skin on my upper body, my hands wandered to the hook and zipper on his pants. I undid each and let the fabric slide smoothly off his legs. His briefs exposed just how turned on he was. I tugged his underpants off, letting his erection spring loose.

He wasted no time and tore my panties off from under my skirt, then proceeded to hoist me up the wall. He sat me on his dick. The length went in roughly. I gasped at how deep it truly went. His strong arms held me against the cold wall as he fucked me senseless.

James came inside me within minutes. My back arched as I felt his hot load spill into me. He grunted and whimpered, breathing raggedly. He slid out of me and guided me back onto the ground carefully, before tugging his pants back on. I smoothed my skirt down and cleared my throat.

'You have no idea how much of a revelation that was, Y/N. My little hummingbird...killing people.' James grabbed my face in both of his hands. 'Now, that was just the appetizer,' he growled. 'We must venture upstairs for the main course.'

+++

I'm watching Hotel right now and man I missed James so much. That sexy bastard.

[tobiasdrake]

AA 4-1, Turnabout Trump, is the best opening case in the history of Ace Attorney. Bar none.

(To be fair, 1-1 and 2-1 fucking spoil the killer for you in their opening cinematic because they think new players are stupid and 5-1... 5-1 makes me shake with homicidal fury at the shit it pulled. So the competition isn't very steep.)

4-1 had the unenviable task of breaking the audience in to a brand new status quo. Seven years after the events of the original trilogy, we have to introduce our new protagonist Apollo Justice. The easy way to do this would be to have Apollo sign up to work for Phoenix and then have Phoenix mentor him.

Screw you, let's get fucking crazy, PHOENIX IS A HOBO and his law career is DEAD. Oh, and he's not the mentor. He's the defendant. Buuuuut he's also still the mentor because he's smooth now.

Incredibly bold of them to go this route. They had to have known that players weren't going to like this. Phoenix's law career ended in disgrace five minutes after Trials and Tribulations ended!? He's been fucking disbarred for seven years!? WHAT!?

What do you mean he has a daughter!? What!?

And she's a precious cinnamon roll!? What!?

WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE'S OLD ENOUGH TO DRIVE IT'S ONLY BEEN SEVEN YEARS YOU ARE FUCKING WITH ME NOW FOR FUN

This case took a sledgehammer to the Ace Attorney status quo. This was a huge gamble. People don't like it when you tell them that their favorite characters promptly got kicked in the nuts after the credits rolled last time. They like the idea that everything worked out and it was great. And they riot if you tell them otherwise.

Did it pay off? Uh.

In terms of reception? No. Everybody hates this game. It offended the AA fandom on a deep and visceral level.

But me, I love it. I think this kickstarted an interesting shift in the core identity of Ace Attorney. And the biggest mistake they made was going back on it.

And it starts here with this magnificent bastardry of a scheme.

Phoenix does fill in the mentorship role for Apollo in our Tutorial to Ace Attorney case, but it's... twisted. Because Apollo is apprenticing under a professional attorney and close personal friend of Phoenix's, Kristoph Gavin - But Phoenix has made the curious decision to request Apollo's representation over Kristoph's.

That's not to say that Apollo's doing this entirely alone, as Gavin pitches in to lend his struggling protege some mentorship on the job.

But that's the trick. Phoenix has, throughout his career, successfully identified murderers among various witnesses, two prosecutors, and two investigating cops. But this unique setup allows him to do battle with a defense attorney. His own defense attorney, at that.

(He hasn't had to pin down a judge yet but HO-HO he will get to that in two games' time!)

There's shades of 2-4 buried in 4-1. So much so that they even cite the main theme of Justice For All while they're at it.

Literally what Justice For All is about. Dare I say... Apollo Justice for All?

2-4 fractured the relationship of trust that exists between attorney and client, that the trilogy is built upon. So much of the series is about believing in your client and giving your all to their defense, and 2-4 took a crowbar to that case by asking, "What if the client is untrustworthy?"

4-1 sets the stage for the new status quo by introducing the opposite question: What if the attorney is untrustworthy?

This isn't the kind of question that an AA game asks. It's... unsettling, given the franchise's romanticized view of defense law. The notion leaves an ominous discontentment that can be difficult to place, and sets the stage for what will become known as the Dark Age of the Law.

And yet, this is the kind of over-the-top legal nonsense that can only emerge from the realm of Ace Attorney storytelling, which does not give a fuck. A murder has been committed with Phoenix in the crossfire, and he has successfully created a scenario where the killer is not only in the courtroom, but is defending him in court.

Well. His protege is, anyway. Phoenix was very careful not to allow his representation to fall directly into Kristoph's hands, after all. Instead, he takes Apollo under his own wing instead.

What gets me about Phoenix and Kristoph's relationship is that Kristoph is genuine about wanting to help Phoenix.

We've seen plenty of murderer frame-ups throughout the series, and even one case of a murderer entering the courtroom as a defense attorney to ensure their fall-gal gets convicted.

Kristoph isn't planning that. Rather, he has a different target in mind that he can pin this murder to. His relationship with Phoenix is much too professionally valuable to let Phoenix go down like this.

As with 2-4, we have a perfectly adequate suspect to accuse in the defendant's place. A reasonable case could be made for Olga Orly's complicity instead of Phoenix's. Phoenix could go free by letting the wrong person be convicted.

But he's going to shoot the moon instead.

And he's going to do it, he's going to defeat the untrustworthy attorney, by putting his faith in a trustworthy attorney instead. The same way he defeated an untrustworthy client years ago.

4-1 has met with some criticism for the way so much of this comes down to Phoenix vs. Kristoph, with Apollo relying so heavily on following Phoenix's breadcrumbs. But for me, that works fine. Phoenix can light the course but it still falls to Apollo to navigate it, and that works for me as Apollo's very first case in his career.

After all, Mia leaned on Diego plenty in her first case. And Phoenix leaned on Mia a lot throughout the entire original trilogy. This case serves as Apollo's introduction to the Wright method and its unconventional approach, as Phoenix makes sure that special attention is paid to the kind of small details that unraveled prosecutions in his own time.

Ultimately, Apollo is as much a part of this as Phoenix is. None of this would work without him. We see him torn between his mentor and his hero as Kristoph realizes what Phoenix intends, and the jaws of the trap begin to close around him.

But ultimately, Kristoph's presence in this room leaves him cornered like a rat in a cage. Phoenix already saw to that.

Thus, one mentorship is fractured beyond repair while another is forged in iron. Phoenix even finds a moment to squeeze in foreshadowing for the final confrontation in 4-4.

This is such a fantastic introduction to the new status quo of post-timeskip Ace Attorney. It hints at the darkness inherent to the new world of law following Phoenix's disbarment, while also building the relationship between our next-generation hero and his predecessor, and serving it up alongside the maddest gambit ever to hit the courtroom of Ace Attorney.

And Also Payne is nearby but who gives a shit. XD

The prosecutor is less relevant in this case than any other in AA history. He just stands there uselessly at his booth and watches Phoenix's masterpiece unfold.

That this helpless performance is Winston's swan song, to be replaced by Gaspen in future games, is just the icing on the cake. So long, Winston. You won't be missed.

[justcallmefox89]

Campfire Stories

Cal, Lia, and Rolan join Drakul and the others for a meal, the others learn more about Drakul than they bargained for.

TW: Drow being drow - fantasy racism, classism, murder-hobo tendencies.

I watch Rolan stomp away from his siblings, grinning at the agitated lashing of his tail and admiring the shape of his firm, tight-

“Stop that,” Gale commands, flicking the tip of one of my ears.

“Ow!”  I swat his hand away with a scowl. 

“Serves you right,” he says primly, fixing me with a disapproving stare. 

“I didn’t do anything!” I protest.

“I know exactly what you’re thinking,” Gale lectures, sounding so much like my mother it’s uncanny.  “And you need to leave that boy alone.”

“If you had even the faintest idea what I’m currently thinking, you’d be blushing wizard,” I purr, running my thumb over my lower lip.

“You… you…” Gale stammers momentarily then snaps his mouth closed and settles for giving me a dirty look. 

Astarion saunters back to us, closely followed by Karlach.  “Oh… did you break the wizard again, Drakul?  I was hoping to watch this time.”

“Karlach, my darling!  Gale was being dreadfully horrible to me while you were gone,” I pout and dramatically gesture to the reddened tip of my ear.  “And he flicked me!”

She snickers and nudges me away with the butt of her battle-axe.  “I’m sure you deserved every second of it.”

“He most assuredly did,” Gale assures her.  “Honestly Drakul, you’re even older than Astarion and you act like a child.”

“Hey!” Astarion and I shout in unison, twin images of outrage.

“Is now a bad time?”

The four of us whirl around to see Cal and Lia watching us with faintly bemused smiles on their faces.

Gale recovers first.  “Is there something we can help you with?”

“Oh gods,” Astarion groans.  “Stop offering to help every person we meet.”

“Actually… we wanted to invite you to have dinner with us,” Cal answers.

“We heard how you helped Arabella and Mirkon and we just wanted to do something to thank you,” Lia adds.

We aided some common children and now I get an invitation to dine with Rolan?  Maybe there is something to this whole ‘helping’ nonsense Gale bathers on about…

I am struck by a brilliant idea.

“You should come dine with us at our camp instead,” I blurt out. 

Cal and Lia exchange hesitant glances.  “Are you sure?” she asks.

“Absolutely.”  I throw my arm around Gale’s shoulders and gift them with my most charming smile.  “The human loves to cook.  It will be no trouble at all.”

“Then we’ll see you at sundown.”

“See you then!” I call after them as they take their leave.

“A child…” Gale mutters.  “An overgrown, xenophobic, murderous child.”

True to their word Cal and Lia arrive at our camp right at sundown, a clearly reluctant Rolan trudging a few steps behind them.  Pleasantries are exchanged as Gale and Wyll put the finishing touches on the evening meal, and Scratch circulates through everyone, gathering scritches and pets as he goes.  Soon enough Gale begins to dish out bowls of stew and everyone starts to settle around the campfire to eat.

“Rolan,” I say, just loud enough to get his attention, and tap the space next to me with one finger.

He hesitates, turning to go sit next to his brother and sister.  I clear my throat and tap the spot again with a touch more force.  He waffles for only a second longer before relenting sitting down on the log next to me. 

“Thank you,” I whisper, pressing my shoulder against his. 

Rolan grunts irritably but leans into my touch, so I take advantage of the moment and turn my head to take quick whiff of his hair.  I inhale deeply, taking in the scents of old books, ink, and candlewax. 

Of course.

I’ve only known the wizard for a scant amount of time, but I’m not surprised that these are the scents that make up Rolan.

“What are you doing?” he hisses, pulling away from me.

I begin to reply but get distracted when I realize Gale has forgotten to dish up a bowl of stew for one of our party members.  “Wizard!”

Gale pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.  “Oh for the love of…”

“He’s hungry!” I insist.

“Do not indulge him,” Lae’zel orders.

“My minion demands food!”

“What the hells is going on?” Lia whispers to Karlach.

Gale dishes out one last small portion of stew and sets the bowl at my feet.  Appeased, my newest underling slinks out of my tent and pads over to the campfire.

“It’s a cat,” Rolan says, slightly stunned.

“His name is Varyyn,” I say proudly.  The cat lets out an indignant mrrp as I sweep him up into my arms to show him off to the tiefling siblings.  He’s a fat little thing with orange and white stripes, he drools when he sleeps, and one eye blinks slower than the other but I’ve decided to claim him anyway.

“Where on earth did you find that thing?” Rolan asks as Lia coos and scratches under Varyyn’s chin.

“He followed us back from that abandoned village,” I reply, nodding in a vaguely westerly direction.

Varyyn begins to yowl in earnest so I release him, and he immediately pounces on his portion of stew.

“Shadowheart says we can’t keep him when we move on -”

“We are not keeping the cat,” Shadowheart says, giving me a stern look.

“I’m keeping the cat,” I rebelliously whisper to Rolan, secretly thrilled when he gives me a small smile.

“Did you have many pets growing up, Drakul?” Lia asks.

I take a bite of stew, sucking thoughtfully on my spoon as I consider the question.  Rolan’s eyes track the motion of my lips, but he quickly looks away when I catch him watching.

“Mother allowed me a dire bat as a flying steed once I passed the Test of Lolth,” I answer.

“Truly?” Cal’s eyes are as wide as saucers.

“Fallon is a hideous, stubborn beast,” I say fondly, smiling at the thought of the giant bat.  “It took ages to get him accustomed to the bit and bridle… the trainer was going through two or three children a week for months.”

My smile fades as I notice that everyone – with the exception of Lae’zel and Astarion- has stopped eating.

“What?” I ask.  “What’s wrong?”

“You fed children to your dire bat?” Rolan looks positively green.

“Oh!  Of course not, silly.”  I pat his thigh reassuringly.  “They were the riders.  Fallon needed to get used to carrying someone and there are so very many commoner children in Menzoberranzen.  When one fell to his death the trainer would just pluck another from the masses.  I was never allowed a darthiir like my sisters were though…”

“I am almost afraid to ask,” Gale mumbles.  “A darthiir?”

“Yes,” I nod and gesture towards Astarion.  “You know… like him.  Darthiir.”

“People?” Lia squeaks.  “Your sisters kept people as pets?”

I frown.  “No, not people.  Elves.”

“So they were slaves then.”  Karlach scowls at me.

“Oh no, my sisters’ darthiir were treated much better than our slaves,” I assure her.

“My gods.”  Rolan nearly chokes on his bite of stew.

“Darling, if you keep talking I will kill you,” Astarion says, eyeing me calmy from across the campfire.

I smirk.  “You would try,” I retort, already reaching for the dagger hidden at the small of my back.

“Alright boys, you’re both pretty.”  Karlach glares at both of us.  “Now pull your claws back in.”

“I would kill him,” I whisper reassuringly to Rolan.

“Of course you would.”

I turn, ready to reprimand him for his patronizing tone, but stay silent when I notice the tiny smile on his lips. 

“You mentioned you had sisters, Drakul?” Cal asks, trying to fill the awkward silence.

I nod, finishing my list bite of stew.  “Seven sisters; six younger and my twin, K’tarai.”

Cal nudges Lia with his elbow and laughs.  “If they’re anything like this one I don’t envy you,” he jokes.

“I doubt they are,” I muse, pondering my sisters’ personalities.  “K’tarai ordered her first execution at the age of six, and Catriona attempted to assassinate our mother when she was just fourteen.  Mother survived though!” I reassure my companions, noticing their shocked looks.

“New rule!” Gale announces, clapping his hands.  “No more asking Drakul about his life.”

I frown at the others’ ready agreement.  “But I am fascinating.”

Rolan smothers a giggle behind his hand, and I don’t have the heart to be cross with him.

“Take a walk with me,” I murmur in his ear, gently stroking my hand up and down his spine.

He shivers under my touch.  “I don’t think -”

“Walk with me, my wizard,” I repeat.  “I’m selfish… allow me to steal you away from the others for just a short while.”

Rolan nods shyly in agreement and sets aside his empty bowl.  I stand first and offer him my hand, helping him to his feet.  We sneak away while the others are absorbed in conversation, and are almost to freedom when Gale catches the sleeve of my tunic. 

He tugs, urging me to bend low, and whispers in my ear.  “Step carefully, Drakul.  That lad doesn’t understand the game you are playing.”

I glance over at Rolan as he waits for me, anxiously twisting the fabric of his robes in his hands.  I don’t know what it is about this antagonistic and guarded tiefling, but for the first time in my life the cruel and manipulative games of my home hold no appeal.  I only feel the urge to cosset... to cherish... to protect.... to make him delirious with pleasure.

“As you say, Gale,” I assure him.

I quickly rejoin Rolan and offer him my arm, as if I am still in Menzoberranzen and he is a potential suitor.  He flushes a deep burgundy and hesitates, but soon enough his fingers wrap around my forearm, sending a thrill shooting through me.

“Shall we?”

[bitchsourdough]

Ok so about this shit

OBVIOUSLY this is some fucked shit, I'm closing my eyes, this isn't canon because I'm a decent father Bruce Wayne truther, but lets be fr

Making bro afraid doesn't solve shit??? Like idk what Brucie over here thinks fear does to people, and maybe I'm looking at it wrong but why would fear make Jason stop "being a murderer"

Jason from the start isn't a recklessly wrathful person, maybe he's got anger sure, but he isn't running around swinging on anyone and everyone, everything he does is incredibly calculated. If he was some feral idiot foaming at the mouth, the second he jumped out of that pit he would've run to Gotham to beat the brakes of Bruce and the Joker, but bro didn't??? He spent a while making a plan and getting ready?

So yeah he's killing mfs, but is making him scared really the move here? Fear causes irrationality. Looking at Jason's reaction in the pannel above tells me it's the kinda fear that grips you by the balls type beat.

IF YOU THINK YOUR KID IS A CRAZY MURDER HOBO, DON'T TAKE AWAY THEIR ABILITY TO MAKE CLEAR AND SOUND MINDED DECISIONS????

By taking away Jason's ability to think clearly, or at the very least making it WAY harder to, Bruce has essentially made it more likely for innocents to become collateral.

Its like declawing a cat, yeah he isn't scratching you anymore, but he's going to bite you.

Anyways at the end they're all going to wake up and it was all just a dream <3

[animentality]

HEY EVERYONE

At long last...I have published 7 Deadly Habits: Winning Over Exes and Influencing Demons!

Link to paperback and ebook here.

It is the direct sequel to 7 Deadly Habits of the Modern Demon Summoner, which is available here, but can be read alone.

And for those of you who are new here and have no idea what I'm talking about...

7 Deadly Habits is my demon-wielding assassin series, revolving around a pansexual assassin named Rey, whose romantic and sexual flings with other assassins are constantly coming back to haunt him.

It's a dark comedy, but it's also a light tragedy. It's romantic and yearning, while also being stinging and hateful.

It's also a romance told in reverse.

It's got LGBT assassins, sadistic demon magic, and a cursed city on the brink of destruction.

It also has the following triggers, so be warned: violent sex, violence in general, a lot of murder, a lot of swearing, some sexual content, Hayward, and mentions of child grooming.

And here's the full plot description:

And here's the description for book 2:

Twenty-three-year-old CEO Don Francisco wants one of the richest women in the world dead. Which one? Daphne Oakland: actress, model, heir to the Oakland financial empire, and unbeknownst to the general public, talented demon summoner. But since Francisco isn’t nearly as rich as the established Oakland family, he hires the only assassin he can afford: Sebastián Monterey, a down-on-his-luck, struggling demon summoner, the cheapest and lowest ranking one there is.

But Monterey is nothing like Cisco expected. He’s high-spirited, reckless, relentlessly cheerful …and worse, he’s a bit of a slut. The CEO is horrified to find out that Monterey has not just one, but seven angry exes in the killing business, who will stop at nothing to get in the way of an already impossible hit. Not only do they have personal reasons for wanting to see their former lover dead, they also have professional reasons: they are all currently employed by the Oakland family members!

But Daphne is too powerful for Rey to take on alone...and she's about to become even more unstoppable, by seeking out a contract with the strongest demon that has ever lived. If Rey is to carry out his hit, and keep all of Larkhaven from being destroyed, he must convince his exes to work with him. Can he do it or will his failed relationships doom all of Larkhaven?

And uh.

Scene.

Thanks for coming everyone!

I want to thank everyone who bought book 1!

Also, who were messaging me about the sequel long before it was ready ;-;

means the world to me that anyone at all cares about my little murder hobo, Rey...

Hope you're not mad at me by the end of book 2, though... ;)

[vspin]

Because I can't play the game, I have been thinking 🤣

I have already written about the lack of Act 3 reactivity... but another big miss for me is the lack of outcomes in Act 3.

At the end of the day, you only have two big options: control the Absolute or destroy it. (I didn't add in Durge as separate endings, because even their origin run ends the same way... it leads back to those 2 choices).

There is no variation in these choices, especially because none of the sidequests matter. It also really limits RP for those of us who like morally gray characters.

Here are some options that I think would have been really great to add for extra endings if you decide to kill the brain. These would depend on the choices and sidequests you've done. Make them mutually exclusive and give us a quick cutscene.

Note: I would keep all the current choices in the game available. These would just be extra paths to the quests we already have.

- Taking political power in Baldur's Gate. Maybe you blackmail or get rid of Ulder Ravengard and take Gortash's place as Archduke. Of course, you can make Wyll take his father's place, but maybe the MC also sets themselves up for power. Make an evil and a good option for this path.

- Harpers. Become a Harper with Jaheira and start rebuilding the network in BG.

- Zhents vs. The Guild. Choose one for power in BG. Have an option to take over the organization yourself.

- Wizard/Sorcerer's can become the Master of Ramazith's Tower (sorry Rolan 😭). This would give some incentive to binding Dame Aylin since this choice makes NO sense as is. You get a buff for binding her.

These are the ideas off the top of my head. I just would like more outcomes in the quest and more "evil/selfish" choices that aren't tied to being a dumb murder hobo or someone's subservient lackey

[inyujidraws]

More RadioMoon, yay. Impromptu marriage arc that happened after 4-5 years since Creon crash-landed in this timeline. They adopted.

Thanks everyone who came to my streams, watch me draw and talk cringe.

The rando in the first batch, he was a new comedian trying to break into the industry. While on the same way to work, Barry (placeholder name) introduced himself and started sharing some puns and jokes. Alastor didn’t find Barry impressive, and he refused to break his facade. Fun fact, Alastor would’ve murdered Barry later after that encounter, if not for Creon.

Barry got to live, because Alastor’s fecked-up face made Creon laugh so hard, it caused a chain reaction of laughter within the vicinity. So Barry became another reluctant friend in Alastor’s tiny circle. Occasionally Barry was a 3rd guest on Alastor’s radio program. Sadly the Great Depression wasn’t kind to Barry.

It took Alastor and Creon some time to figure out that their feelings for each other. They were quite comfortable staying a couple without the whole marriage ordeal. That changed when Creon stumbled on their soon-to-be son, Daniel. Creon was initially going to find another family who could take the kid in, but she grew attached. Alastor also warmed up to Daniel, especially when they bonded over their trauma of having garbage fathers.

I hadn’t thought about Alastor’s mother. Originally she would’ve passed away before Creon crashed. But where’s the fun in that? I wanted to add more chaos. Creon had returned from her international hobo trek, and accidentally bumped into Al’s mother Léonore. While staying as a paying tenant at her home, Creon saved Léonore from her canon death.

So Al’s mom got to be a grandmother later on. Didn’t really think about how she’d react to finding out Creon’s secret. I think Léonore would treasure Alastor’s happiness of finding love, even if the future daughter-in-law is a bio-engineered vampire.

Daniel grew to have an eccentric, but happy childhood after being adopted. Creon elected to stay home and raise and homeschool Daniel, instead of having Alastor split his time.

During the Great Depression, the “Marriage Bar” allowed employers to fire newly-wed women, or not hire married women. Creon still kept some side hustles, like doing tailoring. Also education wasn’t a huge priority for kids helping to bring money to the table. Some schools closed down, or were horribly underfunded.

[mdzs-is-rotting-my-brain]

Why is the canon Jiang Cheng tag so fucked? I was looking for a meta I wanted to reread and the tag is just....woobifying Jiang Cheng? Stans defending from antis, there's a whole post asking "do you ever think about how Jiang Cheng felt after the Siege of the Burial Mounds (that he led!) Where he lost his sister and now his "brother"?

Did...did we read the same book? Jiang Cheng led the siege on the Burial Mounds, the two forces of the largest numbers were Jin and Jiang! You think Jiang Cheng was sad about Wei Wuxian's murder? The murderer he committed? The murder of murder hobos he led to murder the man you called his "brother"?

And that wasn't even the worst one. The worst one, by far, was arguing that Jiang Cheng never hated Wei Wuxian because he wasn't homophobic...he hated him for other reasons, actually it wasn't hate it was "complicated feelings"

And to that i say you are correct, Jiang Cheng never hated Wei Wuxian because he was gay. (We're going to ignore the fact that Wei Wuxian died before he figured how how he felt for a moment.) He hated Wei Wuxian long before that. However, Jiang Cheng is absolutely homophobic. And it's just one of the many things he hates about WWX.

On top of all of that. One of those posts uses the tag #just a girl without reading comprehension. And...I mean....

I have so many thoughts about a lot of theses posts. Maybe I'll compile them into a longer sort of post. Maybe I won't. It's not imperative to my life.

At the end of the day/year/your life/hyper fixation. You can like whom ever you want for whatever reasons you want.

You shouldn't, however, go out of your way, to take over a tag were people who do not like said character, and flood that tag with art, call out posts or mock those that what genuine discussions as a means of triggering people who want to genuinely be critical of that character when you cannot handle the slightest amount of criticism directed at your faves.

Go touch grass.

No ironically. Not sarcastically. Not demeaning.

Go. Touch. Grass.

Go outside.

Go to the store.

Learn to live with people that think, feel, and believe differently than you. Learn to accept the fact that your behavior, intentionally triggering them, is mean, heartless, and myopic. Learn to understand that your point of view is not the default, nor the correct point of view. Learn to understand that even blood-related siblings fall apart. And for a "bond" as tenuous as the one between WWX and JC and break was bound to happen. Even if Qiongqi Road 2.0 never happened, even if Nightless City never happened. If JZX and JYL lived and had seventeen more kids. Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng would have found themselves on opposite sites, their morals and personalities are diametrically opposite. The break would have happened.

Learn to be okay with that.

And if you come across an anti post and you want to flood the tag with art sit with yourself a minute and ask why you wanna hurt some internet stranger so much, and why it's so important in your life?

Go touch grass.