#nothing is more dnd than rocking up to a place fucking shit up and leaving but god know's aabria's not gonna let that shit slide
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i feel so insane about burrow's end i feel sick
like?? ok there are 3 episodes to go and I'm wearing a hole into the floor of my mind bec im pacing in circles??? the stoat family really said "kill them all, ask no questions" and succeeded? they basically committed a coup and they have no plan for the literal thousands of stoats in bast's end. there's gonna be a power vacuum and that's insane for a place that is basically a ultra-militarized stoat city. what are they gonna do, take over after having literally been there a single day?
and also tula and ava? wtf
im gonna throw up
#d20 burrow's end#d20 spoilers#AND ANOTHER THING very bold choice from thorn to say “i wont”#sir u have been here for a day#i know they are the main characters but im also like holy shit youre now responsible for the lives of thousands#or you could just dip but that's kinda fucked up too#nothing is more dnd than rocking up to a place fucking shit up and leaving but god know's aabria's not gonna let that shit slide#thoughts various#spoilers#(editted for spelling and grammar)
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Literally, Shawn (full Name Alarishauna Aeradirdal) is a more interesting character than Captain Marvel, by writ of her actually, you know, having feelings.
I wrote her as a one-off/joke character that ended up being a side-story NPC in a DnD game.
Since I never actually percolated a narrative backstory, I’ll do it here.
Also, note HOLY SHIT THIS WAS LONGER THAN I EXPECTED. BUCKLE IN KIDS.
Warning; body horror, gore, violence, mental health/trauma. This isn’t as bad as I’ve ever written but it’s a sad and fucked backstory. It’s also a little confusing, cause of how I wrote it, I’m sorry.
Her name once meant something; to be the child of the Aeradirdal line, a scion of nobility. Not of some empty cadet lineage, but truly the descent of those that did great deeds, heroes from before even men walked upright. She was, in her heart and in her life, not far removed from the standing of a princess, with all the trappings and courtly leisure that entailed. She was no spoiled child, of course, her father would have none of such a thing and she was instructed in discipline, in martial affairs, in diligent work and it’s true value. She was charitable, or as charitable as society allowed her to be, and all who spoke to her would have said of her, that she was a kind soul.
And, most of all, she was happy. A loving family, caring friends, and a interest in the life around her buoyed her heart and rarely a great worry could find purchase on it. Even upon the passing of her mother, who was always bedridden, as far as she could remember, was not too great a mark; a sad memory she cherished with soft, hazy tears.
Shawn sighed and attempted to subtly pick a bit of gristle from between her teeth. She’d been saddled with a bunch of miscreants, no worse than usual; better, honestly; she hadn’t had to kill any of them yet.
All truth be told, they had managed a hell of a score; nearly dying in the process (which was part of the job as far as she was concerned), and it all did well for the Boss, which was a good mark in her book.
She furrowed her brow, glaring down at the clay cup of wine. It smelled of sulfur, just slightly. A memory tugged at her, like a stray branch in her hair. -
Alarishauna had very little love for wine, or any other vice. She enjoyed it here and there, the dizzy feeling enjoyable, but not so much that she was tempted to excess, unlike some of her cousins. She would think this, at times, but would banish the thought; to each their own, afterall.
“To each, their own.” It’s what her mother would say. Sometimes she could feel a tinge of something other than kindness on the edge of it, it sounded like what rusted iron smells of.
It’s also what the strange seer said to her. She rarely took much stock in the more mystic of things; magic was a discipline she had knowledge of, and understood, but spiritualism felt raw, unkempt, out of place in her glowing and warm life. But the way he said it made her stop, and take note.
“It can mean many things, child. Leave others to themselves, they are not you? Perhaps, take which you may, for all shall do the same?” The seer was a bent, old elf; older than she thought possible. He sneered, an animal grimace as he continued; “Or, perhaps, to one’s blood, so will their blood beget.”
It was her blood that caused it; as far as any could tell. Her mother was wracked by illness, fever, melancholy. After her passing, Alarishauna’s father worried, endlessly, but if it was a curse, it laid light on her shoulders, just like her golden hair. -
Shawn looked up from her cup, one of the idiots was toasting. The frailer one, his brother was alright, spoke good elvish. Especially for a greenskin. Here he was, waving his cup around, going on about the opportunities they had. She repressed a sneer with a long draw of wine.
Red as blood, she thought, mulling the shape of the words over in her head. One of the others, the great loud horned idiot was yammering now. She wondered if the Boss picked him -specifically- to irritate her. He was good at that, pushing her buttons.
All said, the wine was tolerable. -
At first, it was subtle. Alarishauna would wake some nights, with sheets strewn, and she was plagued by dreams of wild things, howling things, mad things. She dismissed them as an overactive nighttime mind, and when those dreams became more insistent, she would take a nightcap to settle them.
Soon, what was once an occasional administration became nightly; a cup of red wine. The blood of the vine, to silence the blood inside her that roiled to nervously.
Then came the energy, it came in starts and fits, moments of almost frenetic energy, like there were live snakes writhing in he limbs; she wanted to do something, anything, other than listen to another lecture. She, as did her father, dismissed it as youthful exuberance, she took long walks on her family’s estate to calm herself. They suited her well, and she felt as if her mind was at greater ease away from the college and it’s stuffy halls smelling of book mold and ink.
On one of those walks, a winding thing of many hours, for elves have nothing else if not the luxury of time, she found herself looking off into the undergrowth.
Something, she could feel, was looking back at her. Something big.
Something hungry.
She expected fear. She expected to scream. She expected, frankly, to be hurt.
What she didn’t expect, was the thunderous, writhing vibration that seemed to start at the soles of her feet and rise up through her legs, her stomach, her chest, and her throat, settling in a low, almost soundless snarl. -
Shawn shouted after the horned idiot, he was doing a damn good job irritating another patron, all his pomp and bluster. She could feel the growl catch in her throat, practice had made her good at suppressing it, as she snagged his collar and dragged him, bodily backwards. He said something, she wasn’t in the mood or the mind to listen, instead of a reply she plonked him down on a chair and stalked past, sitting back into her own with enough vigor the make the legs creak. -
Alarishauna’s legs felt like they would snap at any moment, like they were the limbs of bows pulled too taught. When she loosed herself, she flew like an arrow, eyes wide, her hands arcing ahead of her, glittering like moonlight.
Red wine, the blood of the forest, scattered like garnets. A yelp signaled in her hunter fear, and in her, a surge of triumph.
Like in too much indulgence of blood of the vine, the triumph tumbled, roiled in her gut as her mind recoiled in terror at actions she knew, only moments ago, to be perfectly right.
She did her best to rinse the blood away in a nearby stream, the sour taste in her mouth making her want to wretch anew. Tears misted her vision, stinging her eyes; when was the last time she had cried? The passing of her mother, surely, and yet even that was a warm, bittersweet sorrow. She had had time to prepare, to say goodbye to her mother, to understand what was happening. She could feel a clutching pain in her chest, like her heart was being squeezed taught as her stomach writhed. -
Disgust, Shawn thought, staring at one gloved hand. The word had a concrete meaning in her, and she stared at it, as if to challenge herself. Between fingers she could see the greenskin who could speak elvish, he seemed to be talking to some bumpkin wood-elf. The bumpkin’s accent grated on her, though not as strongly as the two patrons who still were taking umberage with the horned idiot. If this continued, she mused, the gloves would have to come off. The growl was still in her throat, like a lump of bread eaten too hastily. She washed it down with some more wine. -
Alarishauna couldn’t eat well. Bread tasted off; sickly sweet and the texture felt like paste. She did all she could to go on with her life, her father would worry and entreat her to stay in bed, to rest, but she’d have nothing of it. She was nearly of marriageable age, she’d argue to her father, who would sit in pensive silence, and that would mean going out and being sociable.
She held her wine well enough, thanks in some small part to her now frantic attempts to smother the nightmares that would blaze through her dreaming hours, but that did little to sweeten her mood. As she went on, she found more and more that the intricacies, the subtle dances of wordply, the quiet gestures and complex dances she once loved so dearly and studied with such great passion felt childish.
Beyond childish, really. They looked like the mindless peacocking of stuffy idiots, playing pretend at real strength. -
Shawn bit gently on the tip of one gloved finger. The one in the short tunic was a pretender, five coppers on him being a miller’s son. Other one looked maybe to be a smith’s son; stocky, but not in the way simple farm work made men. He’d have to go first.
The great horned idiot was still talking, the gods gave him a silver tongue and not a lick of sense.
She saw the knife come out before the horned idiot did. the miller’s son rocked his arm back wide, big swing. It hadn’t even started forward before she was airborne. The glove was still clenched in her teeth, her hand arcing forward. -
Red Wine.
Alarishauna stared down at her own hands, or where they should have been. Confusion toppled into grief, and into disgust. She tried to scream, but someone else broke the leaden silence before she could. An old classmate, wearing a, now that Alarishauna looked at it, painfully ostentatious dress. How could -anyone- move in something like that? She heard a groan, and looked back down. Her suitor. His shoulder was covered in red wine. She was holding down onto him, holding him down...why?
Sour taste caught the back of her throat, and the smell of rusted iron caught her nose. -
Not wine.
Shawn saw the rivulets as they arced away, becoming garnet embellishment son the wall. She wanted to stare, but her body was already moving, winding, coiling, as glittering shards of moonlight raked across the smith-son’s neck.
Shallow.
Enough to scare him.
The pained howl of the miller’s son barley broke the wild buzzing in her ears. -
Alarishauna’s claws dug into the suitor’s shoulder.
Shallow.
Enough to scare him.
The pained howl of the suitor barely broke the buzzing in her ears.
Alarishauna looked at where her hand aught to have been.
Glittering shards of moonlight, webbed with not-wine, greeted her eyes.
Disgust. The word had concrete meaning to her. It greeted her eyes.
She tried to hold back the sour taste pressing the back of her throat. -
Shawn had stormed out. It was that or likely turn the horned idiot into a pile of gore, followed, likely, by anyone else that so much as looked at her. She looked away as she pushed the stable door open, just seeing it made her want to retch.
“Some fucking blessing.” It escaped her lips more as a slur than real words, followed shortly by most of the wine. It tasted much worse coming up. -
Alarishauna was spirited away after the incident, the rumors ran wild in her absence, but given her state of mind, that was the least of her family’s worries.
Most days she would sit in bed, quietly, eating some broth. Some days, she would scream, crying to her father, begging him to save her.
They weren’t hers, she would cry, clawing desperately at her own arms, none of her was. It was all wrong.
First the doctors came, then the priests.
They said she was marked, blessed by the god of the forest, the great hunter, one of the oldest of the fey gods; that her bloodline was gifted great strength, for their service in fighting against the cold ones in a time before memory.
Alarishauna first tried to cut off her own hands with a paring knife.
The family servants no longer gave her anything sharp, and her father kept her door locked when he was away. -
Shawn pressed the palms of her disgust into her eyesockets. A headache wracked her, and she barely noted the sting of glittering moonlight shards pressing against scalp.
“Fucking-” She tried to rouse the vocabulary but it failed her, instead cascading into a hoarse scream. She swung, blindly, something was raked along by the glittering moonlight at the tips of fingers somehow, to her renewed hatred, connected to her body.
She wanted to tear them off, to smash them, to burn them to do anything to be rid of them. -
“Pardon me.” A simple phrase, in a foreign accent, not brutish but somehow halting.
Alarishauna stared, blindly, ahead.
“And she has been this way for some time now?”
“Yes. No manner of priest can find a curse or poison or,” Her father paused. He had aged swiftly, the stress of seeing his beloved daughter reduced to near-invalidity had struck him profoundly. “Or any such thing.”
“I would think not. May it sit down?”
Alarishauna could see, vaguely, a blue thing. He was shaped oddly, like a candlestick, she thought.
“Of course,” Her father said, indicating a chair nearby.
“No, no, Alarishauna, may I sit down?” He stumbled on her name, but pressed on the same.
His voice was calm. Measured. It wasn’t tinged with fear or pretense.
“Sir Fanzior, she-”
“Yes.” It was a whisper. -
“Thank you Shawn.” It broke her from her blind reverie, the shape of the frail orc, standing in the stable doorway.
She sneered, “Shut up.”
“Are you ok?” He gestured to her, leaning on his staff.
“Shut up.” She felt every ounce of her body tensing like a bow pulled too taught.
“You’re bleeding.” He took a step forward.
She roared at him, swinging madly and stumbling forward into the dirt.
Tears flowed, soundlessly at first, and then -
“I hate them.” Alarishauna gripped the bedsheet, deliberately looking away from her hands, “I want my real hands back.”
“Do they hurt?” He was an odd man, a wide blue hat with a tall pointed top, and a mask of silver.
“No.”
“Are they clumsy?” He was taking notes, quietly.
She shook her head, partly to say no, and partly to banish the memory of red wine.
“Are they weaker?”
“...Stronger.”
“Is that bad?”
“Yes.” She was firm in that, as she blinked away tears.
“Is that scary?” His elvish was weak, but better than it was before.
She winced at the words.
“You can nod, if it’s hard to say.”
She strained. Something in her wanted to hide, from this strange mand, this painful question, this whole world, and especially from the disgust where her hands once were.
And yet, after a moment, Alarishauna nodded.
“I see. May I see them more closely?”
“No.”
She expected a sigh, or any sign of annoyance. Instead he quietly jotted something down and changed the subject. -
Shawn swung again, wildly. Bad blood had been boiling in her since this stupid escapade began and now she wasn’t in much of a place to stop it coming out. She roared at the frail bastard, about her hands, her curse, the stupid bastard god that did it, anything and everything like a torrent of anger vomited forth, punctuated by the sound of the stable walls raked, retching, sobbing, and cursing. -
The next time he asked, Alarishauna replied with a quiet yes. It had been months since he had, and in that time he had sat with her often, sometimes taking his meals with her.
He examined them gingerly, she wanted to scoff, wanted to say, for some reason, that he couldn’t hurt them in he tried. She resisted the urge, and instead looked away.
He set them down, wordlessly, and sat again.
“Well?” She asked, half expecting horror from him.
“See for yourself.”
She looked down, instinctively, before she could stop herself, and her eyes went wide. -
“Gloves.” Shawn groaned, head lolling unsteadily.
“Gloves?” The frail orc leaned forward, squinting.
“Need.” Shawn tried to explain, to stand, or even just gesture, but it was like she was a bag of angry snakes trying, desperately, to appear like an elf.
“Need gl-oh. Right.” He ran off, or as much of a run as he could manage, and she could hear indistinct shouting.
Moments later, he returned, brandishing a pair of plain white gloves.
She tried, again vainly, to right herself. He met her half way and very cautiously held them out in one outstretched hand.
Shawn snatched them up, clumsily putting them on. The thought passed that now she’d have to clean stable dirt and vomit off her gloves, but she was too tired, too frustrated to care. -
“I have hands again.” Alarishauna cooed, looking at the spaces between her fingers in the sunlight. A pang of guilt told her she knew she was lying to herself. She didn’t care.
“You always had hands.” Fanzior corrected, his wide hat shading him from the noonday sun.
She shot him a withering glare, but it crashed pointlessly against the blank mask he wore, “Says the faceless man.”
He smiled. She could tell, somehow, when he smiled.
“There’s a face behind this.”
“Prove it.”
“Maybe some day.” It was a common refrain, between them. A quiet promise.
Her father had protested, initially, when Alarishauna had decided to leave with this masked man. Something in her father’s eyes, the way they strained and tensed when looking at the otherwise unimposing Fanzior was at the same time unsettling, and uncannily like how he looked at her.
“Come along, Shawn.” He held his hat down against the wind as they walked.
“Sure thing, boss.”
He hated when she called him that.
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here are all my dnd episode hot takes bc i love it so much
I’m guessing that, besides being the team’s mascot/furry, Lance also functions as a tracker of sorts.
His posture (squatting on the ground), the fact that he looks like he’s holding something (like mayhaps a scooped up bit of dirt), the way he’s looking over his shoulder as he gives the team his Opinion, the way they all seem decidedly unimpressed at his deductions considering he only sniffed dirt- Fantasy Tracker™, Babey!
Anyway, going off that, it looks like the party is trying to track something (a monster? Lotor’s character? Keith’s?).
I bet Pidge’s armor makes her super top-heavy. If she fell over, she’d look like a turtle on its back.
Also I can’t get over her CHICKEN ARMS and her BIGASS double-bladed axe like. She really is going all out huh.
I’m also digging the fact that Shiro is wearing a full-on black cloak in the middle of a somewhat sunny forest while hanging with his crew. King of wishing he stayed home! King of withdrawing from others!
I’m already in love with this episode like this is DEFINITELY going to be one of my top five favorite episodes. I feel it in my nerd loving bones.
I sincerely hope that whatever their riding is some big scary monster that scared the pants off everyone except for Allura, who immediately befriended it. Bonus points if there’s a scene where she rubs its tummy.
Maybe it’s some personification/manifestation of the White Lion? Idk, I never finished Season 5 so I don’t really know what’s up with Allura and the White Lion, but this could be a reference to that ep.
I saw a post where someone said that could be Keith’s character which is hilarious and I fully endorse.
... Y’know what? I bet whatever the team is tracking in the first pic ends up being the animal they’re riding in the second.
This is your daily reminder that I am a BIG lesbian who is in LOVE with Allura!
LIKE HELLO? THE PURPLE BODYSUIT? FLAWLESS. THE HAIR? CURLED AND FLOWING. HER EARS? POINTER THAN HER ARROWS, AND TWICE AS DEADLY. LEGOLAS SAW HER OUT OF THE CORNER OF HIS EYE AND IMMEDIATELY WENT HOME.
I love her.
But seriously, just LOOK at her. She woke up that morning and she decided that yes, actually, she IS going to be That Bitch™! She’s winning the award for best dressed, and she damn well knows it.
I’m also still not over that one curled bang like UGH. YES. And the purple theme she’s rocking?? The way they almost match her pastel glowing marks? Her arrow feathers???? Cupid lined up the shot at my heart, and Her aim was true!
Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t Allura’s eyes a bit bluer than normal??? Are these.... Fantasy Contacts™?
This is pure speculation, but in my opinion it looks like Allura’s character isn’t a princess. Her armory is fancy, but she lacks Allura’s usual “crown” (it’s not really a crown, but I can’t find the proper word for it lol). Which is interesting! And if true, would confirm some of my meta on Allura lol.
........... I just realized that Hunk isn’t actually bald at the top of his head, but is instead wearing a green hat. And you know what? I’ll take the Rock Lee look over the monk bowl cut any day.
He still looks like Doctor Strange took a vacation in the Earth Kingdom, but y’know what? We still stan. I mean, the beard alone is absolutely legendary, so quite frankly? Hunk’s outfit may be weird as hell, but he still looks good. Case closed! Legends only!
Hunk’s collar is popped because he’s too busy mmmmmmmmmmblockin out the haters.
His belly button is glowing. Absolute legends only.
Also what the hell, Hunk’s sideburns look so good??? His Fantasy Barber™ is a god????? Like OOF, that cut? That fade? Can he please call his barber and ask them to fix Kuron’s hair?? Lol.
Hunk lookes like he’s playing as some kind of monk/sage class, which really tickles my fancy because Hunk as a defensive magic user is (Allura voice) absolutely divine. I mean, just look at that staff! He could either heal you or hurt you with that borderline club, let’s leave it at that.
The longer I stare at his beard the more unbelievable it gets. How did he cultivate such a majestic lock of hair? He has absolutely no facial except for this single 1″ by 1″ square. Hunk is incredibly powerful.
Voltron really wants me dead, huh. Like, they want to loot my wallet from my cold dead corpse and spend my last two dollars at Starbucks. That’s the only explanation for... this.
He looks like if Kaden from Fire Emblem Fates had a baby with Odd from Code Lyoko and that baby raided the closet of Mako from Legend of Korra.
If he has a tail, I will go full on nuclear winter, mark my fucking words.
If his ears so much as TWITCH I will really lose it I am not joking. Voltron has gone TOO FAR, and I will be the one to end it.
Okay I might be imagining things but in the picture on the left, it looks like Lance still has a right earlobe/right ear, so uh. What’s up with that. Does Lance just have four goddamn ears. Are his furry ears fake? Oh my god, is Lance faking being furry kin?
If he has claws tho, I can accept that because that’s cool as hell. I’ll also tolerate Lance having sharp canines, but only if he’s constantly biting his tongue lol.
Lance is wearing quite a bit of jewelry for someone whose clothes look like shit which begs the question of how... he has them.
If Voltron makes Lance’s dnd character a thief we riot.
Also his facial markings look like Krolia’s which is either a funny coincidence, OR the dnd episode takes place after Keith reunites with the team and introduces them to Krolia, and Lance’s markings are inspired by hers. Which is cute.
I honestly cannot tell if she’s wearing a furry cape or if that’s just her hair, but either way I’m loving it. You go, you fierce little warrior you!
I JUST NOTICED THAT HER SHOULDERS ARE AS BROAD/BROADER THAN HUNK’S NOW GHSKDGHDJGSDGDS
I mentioned this in a different post but I genuinely thought Pidge was going to be a rogue or some sort of magic user, so DPS/Tank Pidge has completely blindsided me and I’m loving every second of it.
Pidge doesn’t roleplay based on her actual self and personality. No, she’s creating Fantasy Pidge™ for a Fantasy World™ which means living out every wild dream she’s ever had!!! She’s chaotic neutral bitch and LOVING it.
She has a DOUBLE-BLADED AXE and it it’s not at least 3/4 her size then what, pray tell, is the point. I want Pidge to heft her axe around like it’s nothing, and then when she puts it down it literally shakes the ground. That’s the ultimate power move.
Lance being a goddamn furry PROVES the existence of other Fantasy Races™ so fingers crossed that Pidge decides to play a dwarven character to explain why she’s so short ghdkjsghdkjs
Pidge looks so happy in the second pic. This really is the best day of her life.
(ZOOMS IN ON THE SECOND PICTURE) YO IS THAT A CROWN???? 👀👀
Okay but seriously, if Shiro’s character is a prince/king I will EXPLODE!!!! Let Shiro make a dnd character with an unnecessarily tragic and dramatic backstory!! Let Shiro roleplay as a prince on a mission to avenge his fallen kingdom and free his people!!!!!!!!!!!!!
That would also explain why Shiro is constantly wearing a black cloak and hiding his beautiful, perfect face. Because he’s on the run and has to stay undercover, bitch!
NGL, I’m a lesbian but I stared at the second picture of Shiro for a good ten seconds. Mostly because Shiro’s hair looks really, really good, and it’s a balm to my eyes after season 4 and 5.
Also, I just realized, his crown/coronet/WHATEVER is in the same place/represents his tuft of white hair! You can see this most clearly in the first pic :3c That’s so cute!
I’ll admit, I’m a little disappointed because at first, I thought Shiro was wielding a gigantic two-handed sword, which is absolutely badass and kickass. However, on closer examination I can see what looks to be a shield strapped to Shiro’s back (apparently over the cloak, which is weird lol), so Shiro most likely wields a so-called “one-handed” sword.
I won’t lie, for a hot second I thought Shiro might be wielding a club or something because I couldn’t see a sword hilt, but if you look at the left picture really closely, you can see what looks to be a black sword hilt. I did some googling, because swords are cool, and I’d guess Shiro’s sword is based off a knightly sword.
#voltron#allura#pidge#hunk#lance#shiro#voltron spoilers#long post#REALLY long post lol#image#shitpost#caps#header text#italics
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Fantasy U. What are the Bad Kids like in college?
@kickmuncher3 oh god i’m sorry this is so late my buddy but here it is i hope it’s okay
oh my god okay so. first, yall should know i dropped out. true story, had a mental breakdown, didn’t show up to a final, called my mom and my sister came and drove me home, SO
all my knowledge here is based on one year where i was VERY depressed/generally mentally ill, and a lifetime of college movies.
Let’s just. I can absolutely will do a post campaign college version, but also let me just tell you about them sans campaign college first. I’m AUing. watch out world, I’m making a new one.
Kristen, sweet, sweet Kristen, is the Clerical/pastoral Studies major (who was homeschooled (probably in the Helioic version of that ‘to raise up a child’ cult,)) and knows that she’s there to find a good husband and bring her friends into the faith, and become a wife.
Needless to say she loses her goddamn mind. The only thing that can break faith faster than your God refusing to answer your questions to your face, is a freshman year ethics class. She full on has a breakdown in the stairwell heading out of the psych building. That’s where Fig finds her, actually.
Fig is… bless her, but, Fig is the girl who you want to deck because she constantly derails class conversations with her bullshit. She found out her dad wasn’t her dad and her parents got divorced the summer after her senior year. She doesn’t even see the point of being in school because she’s just going to go become a hard rock musician anyway, but she got a full ride bard scholarship for piano so FINE MOM I’LL GO BUT I’M NOT GONNA LIKE IT.
She meets Kristen when Kristen is having a breakdown in the hallway and offers her a cigarette, which Kristen takes with no idea how to smoke. They talk for a while, most Fig going, “yeah man, it’s bullshit,” every time Kristen looks to her for assurance. the Fig rants about how you should never believe in anything, because even your family turns their back on you because OF COURSE THEY DO THEY’RE ALL TRAITORS AND LIARS. Kristen doesn’t know what to do with that exactly, but she decides to factor it in as she’s figuring stuff out just in case. Kristen and Fig become friends because nothing makes you become friends with someone faster than having a breakdown in front of them. I speak from experience.
Adaine, sweet sweet Adaine, is at Aguefort, a small liberal arts college, instead of the DnD version of Oxford or Cambridge (whichever rings more pretentious) and it is a SCANDAL. Like her sister is there, but she couldn’t get in! what! what!! but, honestly, she’s happy where she is. She is. She really is. She had a cry her first night in her dorm (a single, which, I’m jealous) but she’s happy. because she’s away from her parents and away from her sister, and wow, her first day on campus, when she walked out on the quad (grassy area? some kind of gathering place? I don’t know we didn’t have anything called a quad we just had lots of sidewalks because of how old our school was you couldn’t walk on the same sidewalk as someone as the opposite gender. so i don’t know what it would be called.) So she walks out on the quad and takes this deep breath and feels a little relieved, and very excited.
Adaine meets Kristen in the Cafe when (surprise surprise) Someone knocks her books out of her hand. It’s not the bullying of high school, but it wasn’t totally an accident because assholes are assholes. It was probably a pseudo intention ‘bump into’ which makes Kristen drop what she was holding. Adaine helps her. Kristen asks if she wants to join her at her table, where Fig already is, and Adaine, half a world away from anyone she knows, agrees without question.
They become friends when Fig gets Adaine to crack and say something nasty, and Kristen gets to act a little scandalized, but she’s not, she’s excited. it’s great. Quality shit, man, quality shit.
Fabian is a legacy on his mom’s side and he is there to make is dad proud, and get laid, in that order. his mom tells him lots of stories of her time there and he thinks it sounds LIT. she also somehow got a fucking degree in between shenanigans. Fabian… it’s kinda up in the air. he forgets about class for a minute? he gets cornered by his advisor in the Cafe and is assigned a student buddy essentially who’s whole job is to make sure he goes it class. It’s Gorgug.
Gorgug, my son, is just trying to make friends, honestly. He joins like six clubs on the first day to try and do that. Accidently offers to his Advisor to be a student counselor. He’s also there on a Blood Rush Scholarship. Just. you know. Because he’s good at it. he’s also taking band for fun, and that’s how he and Fig meet.
Gorgug and Fabian are walking from the one class they share into the Cafe when Fig sees Gorgug, and invites them over. Fabian is certain he will not be cool if seen with these people but, there is a cute Elf girl sitting there, who looks with in his standards, so they join the girls at the table.
Riz is there to hone his detective skills, and because his mom said so. She saved for years, and years, and years to make sure he got to go to college. He is NOT fucking that up for her. He has to be 21 (or the goblin equivalent I guess?) to go to the police academy anyway. So he gets to go get a criminal justice degree, gotdamnit.
Riz becomes friends with them fully by accident. They’re all leaving the Cafe and Riz, being Riz, is pretty sure he’s hot on a case. He thinks one of the department is a vampire who’s slowly picking off his students, including his former baby sitter. (The professor isn’t a vampire. He’s just a really bad professor and people are dropping either that major or out of school all together.)
Fig notices him ducking behind a trashcan, and they call out to him, and he ropes them into the search. They’re all mostly in it because, hey, this is something to do that will make a good story. they love Riz though, all of them. Fabian especially tbh. Riz is pretty sure they’re just contacts, not friends.
It’s like that comic page
Superman; “This is a love story”
Batman; “This is a detective story”
or the accompanying text grab of
“baby”
“Fellow Associate”
It’s high quality. It takes Fig inviting him for ice cream after it is all over for him to realize that he made friends. He calls his mom on the way home. she’s very proud of him. She should be.
#kickmuncher3#fantasy high#d20#ASK ME ABOUT HOW THEY ARE AT A COLLEGE PARTY#IT'S QUALITY SHIT#PLEASE I'M SERIOUS#IT'S ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT BUT THIS WAS ALREADY TOO LONG AND WAY TOO LATE
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Novel Prep Tag!
I was tagged by @indecentpause to do this, so thank you! I get a bit distracted yesterday watching a certain music video and looking for pictures, hence why it’s a little late~ :D
Rules: Answer the questions and then tag as many writers as there are questions answered (or as many as you can) to spread the positivity! Even if these questions are not explicitly brought up in the novel, they are still good to keep in mind when writing.
1. Describe your novel in 1-2 sentences (elevator pitch)
Three twentysomething year old insomniacs attend an informal late night support group to deal with their magical trauma, or maybe become gods? The wording is pretty unclear.
2. How long do you plan for your novel to be? (Is it a novella, single book, book series, etc.)
I'm still not honestly sure. When I think about it, I always personally break it into Act 1, Act 2, Act 3 but I'm still not sure if those will be just acts with a single book or something more. o:
3. What is your novel’s aesthetic?
Modern magic, mundane magic, runes and signals littered as graffiti in subways, redcap blood drives on the weekend in the park, friendships are rad, failure as a positive, that good old city night life, curling up in diner booths at 3am because why the heck not, found families and getting better
4. What other stories inspire your novel?
The Raven Cycle by Maggie Stiefvater, definitely! I had this hazy vibe and the character for Icarus before reading those books but seeing how ...matter of fact and mundane magic was described in the books just clicked something in my head. I ended up tossing out the old half-plot it had, and by the end of month, I had this new one and much much happier with it. :D
Also, the Serenity Rose comic book series. I have a thing for near-god characters that still have really relatable issues and just want to live their mundane life. It's one of favorite ...tropes, I guess, and that series does it great. It also deals with growing past your trauma (working through your negativity, so to speak~) so, yeah! It's free online too and I'd highly recommend it. Fair warning though, second book is a fair bit bloody at times.
5. Share 3+ images that give a feel for your novel
I will always love this gif and the whole scene in MIKA’s Make You Happy video (the whole video really) but the playful vibes of dipshit friends is like, Icarus’s core to me. ( ´͈ ◡ `͈ )
Also, just... a lot of Hydrae’s art especially her old Teen Wolf fanart (like the bottom left picture). Fun fact! I first created the concepts of Oleander and Daed when I was watching the first season of Teen Wolf, so seems pretty fitting I still draw inspiration from one of my favorite artists from that time. Her DnD art is amazing too! :D
MAIN CHARACTER
6. Who is your protagonist?
Oleander Thistle is the main-main protagonist~.
7. Who is their closest ally?
While he dearly loves Kingcup and Thyme, his closest ally is Daed and he will always be. They're known each other the longest at this point and Daed does have Oleander's best interest at heart and can look out for him without overstepping his boundaries either.
8. Who is their enemy?
I want to say Lund because it's Lund. But he doesn't really feature in the story outside of mentions and flashbacks, so it's probably easiest to say shitty societal stigmas and shitty coping mechanisms on a whole??
9. What do they want more than anything?
Oleander ...wants to know more about himself and his past especially how he survived losing his heart back when he was like six. He has some theories that make sense, but he's lacking some good hard facts about that. Not knowing actually causes him a fair amount of internal conflict that he can’t seem to rationalize away like he can with most other things.
10. Why can’t they have it?
The easiest to swallow answer is he simply lacks any way of knowing or finding out. Both of his parents are gone and Lund wouldn't know so unless someone has a time machine, his hands are pretty much tied.
The harder one is that Oleander is honestly terrified of finding out that he's not who or even what he thinks he is, so he doesn't try and lets his fears fester inside of him. Like, what even is he? Who can honestly survive having their heart ripped out of their chest still beating and live on without it being much of an issue? It's fucking weird. One of the ideas that refuses to leave him alone is that he's nothing more than a confused spirit possessing the corpse of a dead six year old, and what if that's true? He spent years trying to get his life back. What was all that for if he's even not himself?
11. What do they wrongly believe about themselves?
That he's not him, but that's less wrongly believed and more his worst fear, you know?? Wrongly believed is honestly more Kingcup and Thyme's areas, and that's part of why they like Oleander. The kid is pretty matter of fact and reasonable with his opinions especially about himself (or so it seems on the outside, and even then it’s the what ifs that drag him down). He's like their unflappable little rock! :D
Until, of course, he isn't. :’D
12. Draw your protagonist! (Or share a description)
I really love doodling Olly so thank you. ^o^! Fun fact, his natural hair is like a dark auburn brown. His original plan was to screw around with his hair for funsies for a bit while he was traveling with Daed, only for someone to tell him blonde was a really bad look for him one day in a grocery store. He’s spitefully kept it blonde ever since because fuck you too, lady.
PLOT POINTS
13. What is the internal conflict?
Outside of his ‘what am I’ conundrum which is his main internal conflict, he’s also figuring out how to better navigate the bitter raging sea of anger inside of him. He may want to know more about himself, but that doesn’t mean he’s completely a-okay with the years he spent under Lund’s control. The trauma is still real.
14. What is the external conflict?
They've all been burned and traumatized by magic, and instead of doing the more rational approach to healing like talk to a therapist, they ...do other things that are less helpful. There's also a massive social stigma to having been burned by magic so it's not like they actually have a lot of options at hand. :/ Starting Icarus is actually helpful in that regard because at the minimum, it builds a nice little support system.
15. What is the worst thing that could happen to your protagonist?
Oleander is screaming the worst already happened, what could be worse than his past?! But off the top of my head, losing his heart again would been such a devastation to him. Or, just giving up completely.
16. What secret will be revealed that changes the course of the story?
That's a good question. o:
17. Do you know how it ends?
There's plenty of bits and pieces that I know happen, but it's not absolute yet.
BITS AND BOBS
18. What is the theme?
Mistakes don’t have to define you. Recovery isn't a straight line, but it's possible. Found families are neat.
19. What is a reoccurring symbol?
We will see. I’m sure they’ll pop up at times. xD
20. Where is the story set? (Share a description)
Most of the story takes places in a small port city named Dead Leaves. Less of it takes place in the Inbetween and The Romneya Backwoods too, but Dead Leaves is the main spot. Like I said, it's smaller city but still thriving and lively. The Icarus verse has a slight solarpunky vibe to it so despite the name, it's very green with lots of parks and trees and plants. It's common to see ivy climbing up old buildings and rooftops to have their own little gardens. There's plenty to do with an ton of shops and venues and museums and old historical spots too. Its home to the ever famous Clove Archives that's a massive tourist spot for all to visit, and because of that, there's a few universities and colleges within the city too.
I definitely write it with Boston in mind too, so yes~ c:
21. Do you have any images or scenes in your mind already?
I'm a super visual person so, oh god yes! Do I ever! So many scenes! One of my favorites involves Kingcup punching a wall and Oleander throwing up a wall. :D
22. What excited you about this story?
I just really like these characters, this concepts and the story I have so far. It honestly feels me with joy when I doodle and write about them and it's one of the first stories I've worked on that doesn’t really ever frustrate me either. I also just want to write a story about queer kids finding friendships, falling in love, dealing with the shit and learning from the lesser mistakes you make in your youth. Failure isn’t a death sentence, you know?
23. Tell us about your usual writing method!
I beat my ADHD down every so often and just write write write until it regains its strength? o: I’m gonna look into seeing a specialist this year to learn a better way because it doesn’t work well enough anymore. :l
Tagging: Mhmm. It said lots of people so @elliot-orion @loopyhoopydrabbles @mirror-of-too-many-books If y’all don’t want too, that’s totally cool too! :D And anyone else who would like to do it, please do it! I loved to see it! <3
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Chapter 5
Shani
We pulled into a gated community just off the highway. I dared to keep my eyes on the road afraid to look into his face after what he had just done to me. I hadn't came so heard since ... well never. At least not by the touch of a man.
My tough girl act was long gone. Replaced by something a little softer and a hell of a lot more vulnerable.
"Pull up just here." He said.
I nodded my head and pulled the car up to a small guard post. We were soon greeted by a pretty petite blonde girl who seemed very unfitting for the job.
She eyed me questionably. Before realizing Michael was seated next to me. She smiled widely. "What's up Mikey?" She asked leaning over into the drivers side window. She gazed into the back seat and a look of disappointment showed on her face. "Where's Darwin?" She whined.
I looked over to him as if to say 'what the fuck was it to her?'. He placed his hand on my knee and softly pressed his nails into my skin. I instantly lost the attitude I was attempting to catch and simply found myself leaning back into the seat.
I even made it a point to smile at the bitch. She returned the gesture. And I thought to myself that she was pretty but no where near as pretty as my best friend.
"Jessica DND tonight." He said firmly. "No exceptions."
She nodded her head in the affirmative and softly stepped away from the car. I couldn't help but notice he had a similar effect on me. And wondered if he naturally had this effect on all women.
The gate parted and I removed my foot from the brake allowing us to slowly pull down the street. My eyes bulged as I took in each exquisite home. These homes were nicer than the ones we had just left. Reminding me that he was a rich celebrity and that I was attempting to play ball in another league.
"Last one on the right." He said breaking me away from my thoughts. My eyes bulged. It was by far the biggest home of them all. It even contained a large piece of land that was gated all itself.
I pulled into the circular driveway and placed the car in park before removing the key from the ignition and dangling it for him to take. All the while managing to keep my eyes on the steering wheel. I had lost all my sass. I was nervous as shit and afraid of what more he could do to me once alone in his home. Instead of taking the keys from my hand he took my hand into his. Placing it on his lap.
"Are you okay?" His tone was soft and concerned. I loosened up a bit. Reassuringly nodding my head yes. I attempted to reach for the door handle. "Ah Ah!" He said quickly exiting the car. Leaving me confused as he made his way around to my door. He opened the door with a goofy grin on his face before extending his hand to help me out. I cocked my head to the side as if to say 'Really' before placing my hand in his.
"I could have gotten that ya know."
"You could have. But you don't have to when I'm around. Consider me if nothing else you're official door opener." He joked wrapping his arm around mine. I giggled at his goofiness but managed to blush at the thought of him being around longer than tonight.
"Opening doors is cool. I mean it's sweet of you. Probably impresses a lot of the girls you meet. I can hear them now. Oh that Michael B Jordan is such a gentleman. Opening doors, pulling out chairs. Girl hold my panties." I joked attempting to mimic one of his previous bimbo conquest as we made our way up the steps.
"You caught me." He said holding his free hand in the air. "My father always said If you want to get in her pants. You gots to be a gentleman. He said Son if you want her to be yours ... then make sure to get them doors. And let's not forget my favorite. If you want them to show you theirs. All you gots to do is pull out chairs."
I just stared at him a moment longer than necessary before bursting into laughter. He was so lame. And cute. I couldn't even take my next step. I wrapped my hand across my stomach as the muscles tensed causing me to double over. He threw his head back and let out a hardy chuckle. I held my hand up and placed one finger in the air. I needed a minute to contain myself. I was one of those people who got into fits of laughter and found it hard to stop.
"Your father sounds like an interesting man."
"The most interesting man in the world." He small smiled reaching for my hand once more.
"I'll have to meet him one day." I giggled placing my hand in his. He pulled me up a few stairs nodding his head in agreement. I stepped closer into his side gazing over into his face as he fought to hold in laughter of his own.
He dug into his pocket before placing his key into the door. He placed his hand on the door knob and I placed mine on his. "So how many doors do you think it'll take for you to get in my pants?" I asked playfully out of curiosity.
"That depends." He said turning into me. My eyes once again fell on his chest. I watched it rise and fall for a moment.
"On what?" I asked finally allowing our eyes to reconnect. His stare was intense. I felt myself shrinking beneath it.
"On when we started counting." He placed his palm against my cheek. Softly rubbing the tip of his thumb against my bottom lip.
"Now." I whispered.
"Well in that case ..." he turned and opened the door. "One."
****
He gave me a brief tour of his home and it was just as beautiful on the inside as I had imagined. He claimed to have decorated it himself and I appreciated his artistic approach. The man had good taste. It was a far cry from the man cave style most men seemed to encompass. It showed he had a very unique style.
The last stop on the tour was of course his bedroom. It was large and covered in notebooks and novels. "You do a lot of reading." I stated somewhat surprised. And mildly impressed.
"Avidly." He admitted attempting to straighten up a bit. I noticed my favorite book in his hands and grabbed his shoulder before he could put it down.
"You've read that?" I asked taking it from his hands.
"Yes ... multiple times. Have you?"
I ran my fingers over the finely worn pages. "This is my favorite book. Butterscotch Blues." I nodded my head before smiling. "It was the first book I ever read that made me cry. It's largely part of the reason I even pursued writing as a career." He seemed surprised by my admission.
"You're a writer? That's dope. I write a little bit myself." He said nodding his head at the pile of notebooks on his nightstand.
I walked over to it and attempted to pick one up. "Don't open that!" He yelled but not aggressively. I pouted as he attempted to take it from my hands.
"No fair." I huffed. He softened a bit but didn't exactly loosen his grip on the notebook. "I let you in." I gazed into his eyes and he took a step further into me. He looked as if he wanted to say something slick but thought better of it. He released the notebook and I quickly opened it. I read over a couple of pages as he stood just behind me rocking nervously. I closed it and turned into him. His face read of uncertainty and doubt. And probably for the first time tonight I acknowledged him as just a person and not some spoiled celebrity. "This is good. Like really good." I admitted.
"You really think so?" I nodded my head yes. The way his smile covered his face let me know he was genuinely cared about his work. "So do you feel misunderstood?" I asked referring to the passage I had just read from the untitled work. It was deeply emotional and expressed the characters struggle with the inner turmoil of maintaining her image and yet maintain her truth.
"What made you ask that?" His brow rose as his eyes searched mine for answers.
"Harper." I admitted referring to the character's name.
"It's just a story." He shrugged walking over to his closet and slipping his shoes off.
"That it is." I admitted taking his que. My feet had been barking in these wedges for a minute now. I sat on the edge of his bed and unbuckled them before slipping them off and neatly placing them aside. "But all stories hide a bit of our truths." I said rubbing one of my sore feet. I hadn't heard him walk back over so him taking a seat next to me caused me to jump slightly.
I looked over into him and he held his hands out signaling for me to place my feet into his lap. I smiled still finding more qualities about him that made me regret initially deeming him a Hollywood snob. He took my feet into his hands and began to softly massage them. His touch was sensual and gentle. I closed my eyes for a moment. Wondering to myself why this man was so talented with his hands.
"Sometimes I do..." I opened my eyes and realized his face now read of uncertainty. He looked over into me and I matched his stare urging him to continue. "I love what I do but sometimes it doesn't allow me to walk in my truth. I get judged off not only the things I say but even the things I don't." He admitted. I nodded my head in understanding realizing I myself had judged him in the same manner. A wave of guilt washed over me. "Shits tough. But in a way it motivated me to give writing a try. I have to watch what I say but Harper. She doesn't. She's not even real. At least not physically. But her emotions are." I smiled realizing we shared something in common. "What inspires you?" He asked catching me off guard. I fought to find the right answer but there wasn't one.
"Everything." I admitted. He smiled so I smiled. He released my feet and I softly placed them on the carpet. "I know that sounds bleak but it's my truth." I admitted.
"An interaction I had with a waiter on a lunch break inspires me. Listening to the radio and hearing a new song for the first time inspires me. Going to a party and meeting this really cool guy who I was unapologetically rude to at first but he wouldn't give up... inspires me." He laughed at that last bit. I took his hand and led him to his balcony. He didn't resist as I pulled him out and over to the railing. "The stars inspire me."
I looked off into the sky and he did the same. Surprisingly the area he lived in was just dark enough to see quite a few. Not as many as the ocean view we had just left but still charming in its own way. "Sometimes I find myself too inspired. It's like I have too many ideas in my head at once. Too many voices... too many stories that need to be told. I literally have to blast music when I'm writing just to drown some of them out. The loudest one always wins." I stopped talking and turned into him. He grinned and seemed as if he could listen to me talk all day. I blushed before allowing my head to fall in embarrassment. I was telling him things I hadn't ever told anyone else and couldn't understand why. "So what inspires you?" I asked attempting to take some of the heat off of myself.
He placed his hands on the sides of my neck. "You." He whispered before softly pulling me into a kiss.
He pulled me into him and I stood on my tip toes in a weak attempt to keep up with him. Now that my wedges were off the inches I lacked in height to him were very clear. He noticed and removed his hands from my neck quickly placing them on my ass and throwing me into the air. I instinctively wrapped my legs around his waist as he turned to take me back into his bedroom.
He softly took a seat as our kiss intensified. I could feel his fingers softly digging into my back as I cupped his face and continued to wrap my tongue around his. He found my zipper and slowly pulled it down. He broke our kiss so that he could pull my romper down onto my waist. The way he stared at my breast and then at the little pug my belly made when in sitting position had me feeling a little self conscious. I placed my arms around myself only to have him swiftly pull them away. "What are you doing?" He asked searching my face for answers. I didn't know what to say so I said nothing. "You're perfect." He whispered placing soft kiss onto my chest before taking each of my nipples into his mouth and tugging at them.
I placed my hands around his head as he began to kiss and suck on the sides of my tummy. The way he was gripping my ass as his member grew beneath my had my box mimicking the Clipse Grinding beat. I wanted to feel him deep inside me. I needed to. I found his belt buckle and struggled to unbuckle it. We were so tangled up in each other at this point even the simplest movements seemed impossible.
"Well... well... well...What do we have here?" A familiar voice quizzed. I quickly threw my arm across my chest as both our heads whipped around in the direction from which it came.
"Lydia what the fuck?" He yelled as I rolled off of him and attempted to pull my romper back up. My mind was racing as I scrambled to find my shoes.
"Now when you told me you wanted to fuck the bitch you neglected to mention you'd be doing so in our home." She growled. 'Who the fuck was she calling a bitch?' was my initial reaction causing me to stand to my feet all the while neglecting to even attempt to place my other shoe on. Wait ... did she say our house.
"You told me this was your house." I forced through clenched teeth.
"It is!" He yelled looking back and fourth between us both.
"Well how did she get in?" I growled becoming more and more frustrated with the scene unfolding in front of me.
"I don't know!" He squealed in a convincing tone. His focus was on me now. I looked into his eyes and wondered if there was any truth in his admission.
Lydia held up a key that quickly caught my attention. "So She has a key to 'your' house?" I asked quickly becoming enraged.
"No! Of course not!" He lied to my face and I realized his acting skills were far better than I had ever realized. I simply nodded in the direction of which she stood dangling a key between her nubby fingers.
"Bitch you have a key to my house?" He feigned ignorance. She smiled and I decided I had seen enough.
I stomped past her struggling to keep my balance seeing as how I only wore one shoe. I was livid and needed nothing more than to get the hell away from all this madness. I could hear them exchange a few words and then him running up behind me. I stopped in my tracks and turned to him. He opened his mouth to speak but I quickly cut him off. "Give me your keys!" I demanded. He seemed confused as to what the fuck I was talking about. He attempted to speak once more but the pain he soon felt from me digging my nails into his balls quickly took his breath away. "Give me your keys!" I yelled before swiftly twisting his future children in my palm. He quickly dug into his pocket and handed me the keys to his car.
I snatched them from his fingers before gathering my things from the stand near his door. I jogged down the steps and quickly hopped into his car. Pulling off into the night. Wondering how I had allowed myself to get caught up in this Hollyweird ass bullshit.
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hey its another character quesntionnaire
1) What is their full name, and does it have any special relevance? Alternatively, what nicknames do they have?
Theo Lavellan. It doesn’t particularly have any special meaning, but his last name obvs speaks to his Dragon Age origins, since he was my Inquisitor. The only ‘nickname’ of sorts he has is just his last name (which. he hates. but has said nothing about), otherwise Shouri calls him ‘gremlin’, ‘goblin’, and ‘little shit’ with all the affection in the world.
2) What hobby would they like to be good at?
I think Theo would want to be good at cooking? Cooking is one of those skills that’s more a necessity than anything when you’re a nomad, but now that he’s kind of settled into one place I think he’d want to refresh and expand upon those skills.
3) If they played dnd what race and class would they pick?
I think Theo would still be a warlock, and he’d probably pick a tiefling or aasimar or something otherwise kind of edgy and goth. This is in the context of modern life where he doesn’t necessarily have the same experiences though. His canon self would prob be an elf fighter bc he’s boring.
4) If they could go back in time and change one thing, what would they change?
It’s hard, because there’s a lot of things Theo would want to do over. I think above all else, without fucking with timelines too much, he’d want to have linked with Shouri sooner, and before Jericho came into their lives. Maybe then Shouri would’ve at least stayed with him when they got out, and they could’ve healed with each other. IDK how well adjusted Shouri would be, but I think Theo would be in slightly better shape having had someone with him during his recovery.
5) What is their favourite weapon to wield?
A bow, above all things. He’s gotten comfortable with staves though and he’s not afraid to whack a man with it.
6) If you could behove them one magical item, what would you give them?
Rod of the Pact Keeper please, preferably the very rare version. “While holding this rod, you gain a bonus to spell attack rolls and to the saving throw DCs of your warlock spells. The bonus is determined by the rod’s rarity. In addition, you can regain 1 warlock spell slot as an action while holding the rod. You can’t use this property again until you finish a long rest.”
7) If they didn’t have to adventure, would they stop?
I think so, yeah. Theo would very much like to just get married to Shouri and then settle on a farm somewhere so they can live out the rest of their days in peace and comfort. He really doesn’t want a lot.
8) What do they look for in a platonic or romantic partner?
In a romantic partner, Theo just wants somebody who will be there for him and help him through his traumas, and is gentle with him. He’s got a lot of pent up anger and sadness and resentment and anybody who can push through that to his soft core will be vastly rewarded and find an undyingly loyal and loving partner.
9) Do they trust easily?
Noooo, not anymore. I’d say Theo used to be cautiously optimistic in terms of trust in the past, but he’s extremely closed off now. It’s hard for him to trust people before they’ve shown themselves to be good and honest, and it’s incredibly hard to mend that trust when broken.
10) What is their favourite colour?
Brown. It’s the color of trees, rich soil, and Shouri’s eyes and hair.
11) Diplomatic or aggressive?
Theo can be diplomatic. When he wants to. Really. He was training to be his clan’s leader, he knows how to be diplomatic. He just has no patience for it, so he tends to take an aggressive approach.
12) They get arrested, and thrown in jail, how do they escape?
Dimension Door/Blink/Invisibility are all great spells. His stealth isn’t the greatest so Dimension Door and Blink are probably his best bets.
13) Would they leave their party for any reason?
If he felt unwanted, or if he felt like he couldn’t offer them more, or if he had the chance to settle down with Shouri with no immediate obligations to anybody.
14) If they could own any creature as a pet, what would they have?
He has his familiar that’s mostly a cat, I think he’s fine with his immortal cat vs an actual living one that could die.
15) How have you influenced your characters personality?
Theo’s BPD is def from me, and his impatience is definitely from me.
16) Do they have any tattoos? If so what? If not, do you think they would get one in the future?
They’re tattoos sooooooort of? But he has marks of adulthood on his body and it’s basically everywhere.
17) Where would they like to be in ten years time?
Hopefully married, settled on a farm, and maybe with a kid or two.
18) What genre of music would they be into?
Probably a lot of rock and metal and punk.
19) What would be the worst thing someone could say to them?
“I don’t love you.” “I don’t want you.” “You’re annoying.” “You’re too much.” “You’re weak.” “You’re useless.” There’s a lot, but it’s all kind of in the same vein of abandonment.
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I love it when my fellow players chastise me for how I played my character in game, because I acted in character and ran off as a character who was an assassin and killed the target, in one hit, then Set the place to burn. And left and that was the end of the campaign. Just like that. And because I ruined the fun and left people out when my character was a trained assassin asked to assinate someone who the dm had made out to be a normal human with no more powers than a rock, I went and did it and then set the giant cloth tent ablaze with the oil lamp that was also just in the room? Like it’s not my job to make sure you have fun and shit? One player just locked themselves in their room the rest of the session and did nothing, and then the other character looked for a boat to leave, then told me off in character because I took away their fee will by giving them a chance to live free and not be accomplices in a royal assassination?
Also railroading isn’t the “best strat” for a dm, it’s one of the worst, and you can’t compare and say “well video games railroad you” because dnd isn’t a video game, is a role playing game where you have free will to make your own way and story, the players and dm should work together to make the game not just the dm one sided dragging the characters along to the finish.
It’s cooperative story telling, not the dm decides where the fuck you go and how and only gives you freedoms to shop and other meinial tasks like that and yell at your players to shut up and let them monologue (or have npc dialog that isn’t nessasary for anything and is a full length scripted conversation)
Also then was kicked out of the next game for making “the game unfun for us and that’s final”
Not like I was actually planning to return with all the other shit I went through with that campaign! Like really man? Y’all really are nice and good friends. Who really fucking care and shit and won’t let your “perfect little dm” bully (well microagress? Is that the word?) a player out of the game over the course of the campaign.
#dnd#dnd 5e#dnd5e#drama#dungeons and dragons#5e#discorse#?#not naming names because fuck that if they want to show who they are they can but#im not outing them here due to respect#and to those whom this is about yea this is how i feel#yall are real fucking nice#really#i dont even know what to say any more#its not my fault you didnt make fun for yourself#bad dm#dms from hell#toxic dm#personal#toxic players#bad players#pleyers from hell#cat speaks
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Ghostman: The council calamity retrospective
Well christ, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? I know literally nobody follows this blog, but as of this writing, i’m waiting on the steam direct fee i paid to be fully processed (Basically, in a week i’ll be able to publish the game)
I’d like to take a second and stroll down memory lane for a little bit, and why it took so fucking long to make this game, this is basically going to be a list of every time i tried and failed to make a game, so strap in, these aren’t in chronological order either, and i’ve kinda forgotten the proper order.
Bill’s excellent adventure:
There’s incredibly little to say on this one, after reading a 4chan thread on games development i downloaded GM:S, tried making a platformer, saw my art, didn’t see any progress after trying a little bit, and gave up.
Mugman:
Mugman was the first time i tried making an adventure game, other than the main character, i had no ideas for the game and dropped it like a rock.
Radiation Seat:
Radiation Seat, for the more dedicated gamers in the audience, is just a synonym for nuclear throne, i tried messing around with random generation in GM:S, realised i’m not very good at coding and gave up, the game actually kinda works though, so theoretically if i’m a moron/psychopath i could try working on it again.
Asterodis:
First real game i ever made, it’s an asteroids clone, but with a bunch of the stuff i saw in Vlambeer’s game feel talks crammed in, it’s essentially idenitcal to a tutorial on youtube except shooting takes away points and there’s a limit to the number of bullets on screen.
Poltergeist (Aka: Ghostman when he was a person)
I posted a lot about Poltergeist (the version of ghostman with good art and a completely different setting), the secret to this was having a good artist, Robert Thomas helping me out, we never finished it, and Bobby got caught up in school work, but that’s almost over so if he’s willing to pick up the pen again, i’m willing to do the coding and fix the reall weird bugs (randomly the game would massively lag for a reason i never figured out, i assume it had something to do with the way AGS handles characters over non walkable areas)
Grall and Foegart goto whitecastle:
I’d had the idea of wanting to make a high fantasy adventure game after reading a couple of discworld novels, these games didn’t get far, but it did have an interesting character switching mechnic similar to DOTT, this also appeared in a couple of other half finished games i’d made, why i thought it’d be funny to make a game based on it when i’d never seen Harold and Kumar go to whitecastle? Iunno.
H.E.L.L:
H.E.L.L (Hyper Energetive Love Lab) was a shot at making a VN, i’m probably going to still do this, so i don’t know if putting here’s sensible but eh, fuck it, i’d had the idea of a reality show crossed with a death game for ages, and tried writing a short story about it, which went nowhere.
Gender Girl:
Gender Girl was the first video game i ever made, it was a scratch program with the cat repainted to be pink, moving left killed you by a spike, moving right displayed a message that gender girl had liberated herself (Hohoho, very ludonarratively insync, 12 year old me), i uploaded it to the scratch website, and it, containing swear words(such a rebel was i) it was deleted 5 seconds after publication, truly, a light gone from the world, what did it have to do with gender? If i remember literally nothing, or you were supposed to cut your dick off with the spikes.
Yeah.
PAGAN:
Pagan was a pokemon rip off i was making, i didn’t get far beyond changing sprites and types, world design is hard, as of writing it’s still on my site, i ought to take it down buti just don’t have the heart, poor Pagan.
BORB (Ghostman 1)
Borb, as it’s affectionatly called in the files, is ghostman 1, it’s the source of the Alien King sprite, and the Ghostman sprite used in Ghostman: The council calamity, and was distributed amongst my friends for like, 5 seconds, it’s 4 screens and one “Puzzle”, which doesn’t actually work because the last time i did work on it, it’s fun to see how my humour changed, in GM1 we’ve got the classic line “It’s locked up tighter than a jewish bank” and a character named Snil, whose ribbing snarky asshole persona was basically every persona i used to write until i started playing dnd with my friends, and had to make more than 1 character, i don’t really like anything about GM1, but i find it oddly charming, it’s terrible perspective and total lack of story or theme (You’re kidnapped by bandits and the game ends in leaving on a spaceship having never seen a single bandit.) just makes it like lenny from of mice and men, it probably should die, but i can’t help shooting a game that thought the way to add taste was to remove the words “Fuck off” from a wall.
Rebet:
Rebet’s the first time we see the actual character “Rebut” appear, in some weird tron like backround, i remember wanting to make something that looked like tron, and failing, other than that Rebet remains a total mystery, even to me, andi made the fucking thing, looking at the code, i remember a little bit more about the game, the main gimmick was having a variety of ray guns that could effect peoples emotion, the example in the tutorial was a “calming ray” to prevent a drill seargeant from screaming at you, this didn’t go anywhere.
Wing Wang:
This is literally an empty ags game, there’s nothing in it, i don’t know why i haven’t deleted it.
Ye Men of Valour:
Ye Men of Valour was a weird idea, i’d read a book called “The decline and fall of the British Empire” (Based upon the work, the decline and fall of the roman empire) and decided to make a game based upon a variety of British figures from across time entering into a house they must escape, only to be killed by Aliens, the goal of the game was to get players to reload the game with the knowledge that following the puzzles as they were laid out would kill them, and use a different method to escape, Ye Men of Valour really ended up going nowhere because i was in a pretty dark place and wasn’t motivated, like at all, i’m gonna put this in the “Might come back to it” pile.
Ghostman 2:
Ghostman 2, like Grall and Foegart, had a character switching thing, this ended up breaking the game, so i scrapped it, Ghostman 2 was when the idea of Ghostman being a space adventure comes from, following from Ghostman 1, where you leave on a ufo with an alien, it’s what i thought would happen next, if i remember there was literally no story, just the characters, and switching gimmick.
I.A.C.M
I.A.C.M was a project i worked on with Bobby very breifly, the idea was to make an adventure game set inside a mentally disturbed girls mind, this basically didn’t pan out due to AGS engine limitations, the sprites sent in were too big and ended up looking kind of lame squashed down.
You cannot name this file, insect.:
This wasn’t a game, this was shit poetry at a time in my life where i knew my poetry was godawful, there was no story here, just a Shodan like figure who’d insult me, like personally, i’d write insults about myself into a script and then play it.
Robot Initation:
Adventure game, starring “some random guy named mike”, drew the first character sprites, hated them, didn’t want to improve them, gave up.
Assault and Battery/BatteryMan:
This was a go at 3d platformers made in unity, fell apart because the models i’d made in blender weren’t done properly at all, breaking practically everything.
PirateTextAdventure(ActualTitle):
Sounds exactly like what it is, never got a single line down for this.
Shield Slide:
A rip off of free ski based on the idea of riding a shield i think i saw i a lotr movie? Never got to prototype.
AAAH!
AAAH (Aimless aeronautical adveture, huzzah!) was an experiment i wanted to make, an adventure game that was procedudrely generated, every game would involve a one minute timer, which upon reaching zero, would result in the player dying, the story was the player had just survived a plane colliding with another plane in midair, and had to find a way to live without a parachute just using debris, lessons learned: Random generation is hard, i also ripped off the title from AAAAAAAAAAAAh for the awesome.
Sweet Goodnight:
Sweet goodnight was an rpg i planned to make about dying alone in a spaceship, it never got far beyond idle doodles and some game design docs that i’ve since lost, may go back to this in future.
Spaceman and Woodboy:
A mario and luigi superstar saga ripoff, never got to properly playable state, GM:S is hard.
Quest of Halden:
Shit rpg.
Ghostman: CNC :
Ghostman: CNC (Caverns and creatures) was a weird idea, i wanted to make an Rpg based on my dnd campaign, but for some reason i felt the need to justify it with a weird ghostman shell, may go back to this one.
Legend of Negro:
I don’t know why the fuck this is on my computer, i tried pissing around with a legend of zelda game maker thing.
Generic Units:
Supposed to be an xcom like, fell apart.
Airman/Pacifist run:
Something i still want to do, an fps with non violent weapons and stage hazards that you have to use to defeat enemies, got as far as modeling a single gun.
Sepsis man:
A 3d platformer starring a drinks machine, modeled main character, gave up.
Slime Game (actual title, again.)
Slime game (Or Slime Quest) was going to be an incredibly clever subversive take on the Rpg genre by having the grand villain actually be a low level mook, think cave rats and dungeon bosses, that kind of thing, stopped making it because i thought “Woah, that’s dumb, and lame, and i really don’t like making art for ideas that are dumb and lame!”
Zug’s Glorious road trip for the glory of the party and wealth of the nation:
ZGRTFTGOTPAWOTN for short, this was a text adventure based on wormhole shenanigans and Soviet propaganda films, never really got that far, fun little fact, Zug’s the name of the alien in my twitter profile pic.
Ghostman: The council calamity:
I didn’t quit, i made the game.
THANK GOD FOR THAT.
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