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#Cuts From The Crypt
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Misfits –  Bruiser
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martyrbat · 2 months
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snrrrk mimimi but for forever (until not)
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[ID: a four panel sequence of Snoopy being so sleepy. He yawns before haggardly walking to his doghouse. He sleepily climbs on top of the roof and lays on his back. He thinks, ‘Zonk City!’ before he promptly falls asleep. END ID]
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Who's got the losing hand...forearm...elbow? Find out in a shockingly high stakes game of poker
Tales From The Crypt: Cutting Cards Season 2 Episode 3 Dir: Walter Hill
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ziracona · 2 years
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Do gotta hand it to FO4; there’s something very poetic about The Railroad, a group taking its name from a forbearer that also at great risk smuggled slaves to freedom, made up of this small, struggling, regularly brutally purged, yet defiantly resilient group of civilians and liberated slaves, during the course of the game, operating and living out of a little church of historical significance, a symbol of freedom in its own right, living out of the crypts beneath it, among the bodies and the graves.
#everything about them is poetic and sad. it’s poetic and sad the last scripted Dialogue for Deacon’s first mission with the player is ‘End#of the line.’ Said happily about reaching escape. but also the quest name of the quest where you’re asked to walking into HQ & destroy them#there’s something poetic and awful and painful about how Deacon’s first personal remark to the Sole Survivor is that he’d take it as a#personal favor if they wouldn’t betray them to the institute since he vouched for them. it’s said laughingly. friendly. and the last thing#said to Deacon if the player /does/ betray them to the Institute is Desdemona’s ‘I should have known better than to trust your#recommendation’. before his desperate ‘I swear this wasn’t me. what the fuck’ and before they all die. there’s something deeply tragic and#poetic in that one of the women in HQ gives Preston caps excitedly and thanks him for the Minutemen. in that if you wipe them out with the#brotherhood you storm a church to be met by desperate civilian begging you to just leave them alone as they’re cut down pipe pistols to#power armor and Gatlings. not anger like the other factions. fear and desperation. pleading. trying to buy someone else time to flee#in that if Deacon isn’t in HQ when you destroy it if you turn on them he will hunt you down and try to kill you to avenge them. a#trait unique in every faction to him alone. In that they only move on the brotherhood when attacked. in that they attack the Institute to#save people not to destroy a threat. In that you find safe house after safe house with dead civilians in cloth.#in the way they’ve died many times before and someone always cares enough to pick up the pieces. in that every route points you gently to#them. but there’s nothing to keep them safe except choice. that even if you abandon them but don’t attack Dez will let you walk.#in the fact Deacon’s character exists at all. they are truly deeply overwhelmingly tragic. and it’s beautiful. and simple. just people#trying to do something that can’t be done forever knowing that for the days they can. everyone is standing in a host of ghost’s shoes#even the PC is given a dead man’s gun and can take his name. is recruited becuase they’re falling without him#and they live in a church among the dead in the crypts far from the light and their symbol is a lanter#Mama Murphy calls them the light in the darkness. truly. surrounded by it. but better to light one candle than to curse the dark#and hundreds of people have done so and died so that a few others could live. and they’re still doing it. and they don’t regret#Deacon calls them a family. P.A.M. stayed and helped for love of Glory. Carrington says Desdemona’s flaw is her heart - evidenced by her#allowing the PC to join or leave despite the risk they represent when the clinical call would be to kill them or another extreme measure.#and he’s right. but it’s also why they have a chance to live. Everything about them is about vulnerability and heart. Everything#fallout 4#the railroad#the railroad fallout 4
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beansprean · 8 months
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Scene from @vampireshmampire 's fic "I Accept"!!
(ID in alt and under cut)
ID: 1. Wide shot of Guillermo and Nandor in Nandor's crypt during season 4 episode 1. Guillermo, wearing a white bathrobe with his hair in messy curls, stands up in shock from his chair and questions, "Wait, wait - you decided to get married, but you dont know who you're marrying?" Nandor stands facing the viewer, his back to Guillermo, and flaps a hand at him dismissively, replying "I will find someone." Guillermo shoots back "Are you sure that's-" 2. Reverse shot, close up as Nandor whips around and interrupts, "I knew it!" He grins excitedly with shining eyes, pointing a finger into Guillermo's face. Guillermo jerks back in shock, squeaking out a "Wha?" before Nandor interrupts him again. "I knew you would be jealous!" 3. Zoom out to full body, Nandor now turned away from Guillermo and looking very smug, grinning with arms crossed, one finger tapping at his cheek. Guillermo, flustered, holds up both hands defensively and steps forward, insisting, "I'm not jealous, I'm just saying-" Nandor interrupts again with "You think I shouldn't get married at all, hm?" Guillermo: "What? No!" 4. Close up of Guillermo aiming a placating grin up at Nandor, hands out. He says, "If you love someone enough to want to marry them, great, good, I'm totally behind it! But if you don't even know who you're marrying that's getting married just to be married-" 5. Zoom out, Nandor plants his hands on his hips and leans over to smirk knowingly at Guillermo, interrupting "Ohh, so you think I should marry someone I already know..." Guillermo stares at him, confused, and replies "I mean. Ideally." 6. Close up in profile as Nandor leans in with a huge grin and points a finger in Guillermo's face, accusing, "You think I should marry you!" Guillermo jerks back, red-faced, eyes wide." /end ID
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dragonpropaganda · 2 months
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The Architecture of Rain World: Layers of History
A major theme in Rain World's world design that often goes overlooked is the theme of, as James Primate, the level designer, composer and writer calls it, "Layers of History." This is about how the places in the game feel lived-in, and as though they have been built over each other. Here's what he said on the matter as far back as 2014!
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The best example of this is Subterranean, the final area of the base game and a climax of the theme. Subterranean is pretty cleanly slpit vertically, there's the modern subway built over the ancient ruins, which are themselves built over the primordial ruins of the depths. Piercing through these layers is Filtration System, a high tech intrusion that cuts through the ground and visibly drills through the ceiling of the depths.
Two Sprouts, Twelve Brackets, the friendly local ghost, tells the player of the "bones of forgotten civilisations, heaped like so many sticks," highlighting this theme of layering as one of the first impressions the player gets of Subterranean. Barely minutes later, the player enters the room SB_H02, where the modern train lines crumble away into a cavern filled with older ruins, which themselves are invaded by the head machines seen prior in outskirts and farm arrays, some of which appear to have been installed destructively into the ruins, some breaking through floors.
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These layers flow into each other, highlighting each other's decrepit state.
The filtration system, most likely the latest "layer," is always set apart from the spaces around it. At its top, the train tunnels give way to a vast chasm, where filtration system stands as a tower over the trains, while at the bottom in depths, it penetrates the ceiling of the temple, a destructive presence. (it's also a parallel to the way the leg does something similar in memory crypts, subterranean is full of callbacks like that!)
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Filtration system is an interesting kind of transition, in that it is much later and more advanced than both of the areas it cuts between. This is a really interesting choice from James! It would be more "natural" to transition smoothly from the caves of upper subterranean to the depths, but by putting filtration system in between, the two are clearly demarcated as separate. The difference in era becomes palpable, the player has truly found something different and strange.
Depths itself is, obviously, the oldest layer not only of subterranean but of the game itself. The architecture of Depths has little to do with the rest of the game around it, it's a clear sign of the forgotten civilisations that our friend Two Sprouts, Twelve Brackets showed us, there's not actually that much to say about it itself, it's mostly about how it interacts with the other layers of subterranean.
That said, Subterranean is far from the only case of the theme of layers of history. It's present as soon as the player starts the game!
The very first room of the game, SU_C04, is seemingly a cave. It is below the surface, the shapes of it are distinctly amorphous rather than geometric. (well. kind of, it doesn't do a very good job of hiding the tile grid with its 45 degree angles.)
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But let's take a closer look, shall we?
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See that ground? it's made of bricks. The entire cave area of outskirts is characterised by this, the "chaotic stone" masonry asset is mixed with brickwork, unlike the surface ruins which are mostly stone. This, seemingly, is an inversion of common sense! The caves are bricks and the buildings are stone. This is not, however, a strange and unique aspect but a recurring motif.
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This occurs enough in the game for it to be clearly intentional, but why would materials such as bricks be used in otherwise natural looking terrain?
The answer lies in the "Layers of History" theme. This is in fact, something that happens in real life, and it's called a tell
To be specific, a tell is a kind of mound formed by settlements building over the ruins of previous iterations of themselves. Centuries of rubble and detritus form until a hill grows from the city. Cities such as Troy and Jericho are famous examples. The connections to the layers of history theme are pretty clear here, I think. Cities growing, then dying, then becoming the bedrock of the next city. The ground, then, is made of bricks, because the ground is the rubble of past buildings. The bones of forgotten civilisations, heaped like so many sticks!
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grims-sunshine · 6 months
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🤍 Where I'm supposed to be 🤍
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Summary: Tav (aka the reader) is taking care of Astarion after defeating Cazador.
Word count: 1.5k
Pairing: Astarion x Tav/Reader
Tags: Hurt / comfort; I think this is called reverse comfort? (When the reader comforts the character); lots of mentions of blood; Not 100% canon compliant but it's just minor details/ me not wanting to simply retell what happens in the game
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A heavy silence falls over the crypt as Astarion sinks to his knees. You almost preferred it when he was still screaming. The current silence feels like a dark presence stretching over you, making it difficult to breathe.
You can sense that your other companions are just as uneasy as you are. Karlach uneasily fumbles with the handle of her weapon and Gale is biting his lip while staring at the gory scene in front of you with Astarion as its main actor.
They're clearly struggling to decide what to do now. So are you.
Your first instinct is to hug Astarion, to fuss over him and make sure he isn't injured, but you're not sure he wants to be touched right now. However, just standing there watching him doesn't feel right either.
"Astarion?" You finally ask, taking a small step towards him, carefully stretching out your hand like you're talking to a wild animal. He doesn't react. His eyes are fixated on the dead body of his former master in front of him, almost like he's waiting for Cazador to jump up and start mocking him again. Like the moment he looks away, Cazador will return back to life and continue to attack.
You follow his stare, seeing the multiple stab wounds and the puddle of blood he's lying in. No, that bastard is dead.
You kneel down next to Astarion, placing a hand on his shoulder. If he noticed you at all, he isn't showing it. You look at him, trying to make out any immediate signs of injuries. He doesn't appear to be hurt, but you do notice the slight tremble of his bottom lip and the way his eyes swell up with tears. You gently pull him towards you, wrapping your arms around him. Astarion doesn't resist, letting his head sink into your chest.
He's completely still for a few moments, then the previous silence is broken by a series of loud sobs. Astarion's hands grasp the back of your shirt, fists balling together like he's scared you'll disappear. He trembles in your arms and you pull him even closer. You run a hand through Astarion's hair in an attempt to soothe him, even if just a little bit. It's sticky with blood, but you hardly notice that.
"It's okay, love. He won't hurt you anymore," you whisper in his ear, your other hand gently stroking his back. He only sobs louder in response, but it seems to help him breathe a little more evenly.
You're interrupted by the other spawn approaching. They still appear in just as much shock as Astarion, eyeing the corpse of their former master like they, too, can't believe he's really gone yet.
"Well… What now?" One of them eventually asks, all of them turning to Astarion like they expect guidance from him now.
You look over to your companions, hoping one of them might step in to redirect the spawn. But before any of them can say something, Astarion loosens his grip of you, getting up with his back straightened.
He's still sniffling a little, but already looks far more composed than before. Or, at least he tries to look composed.
Perhaps he even manages to convince everyone else that he's really okay. However, you can't help but notice the slight tremble in his legs as he walks over to pick up Cazador's staff, and the way he's fighting to keep his voice steady while talking to the others.
You've spent enough time around him, observing his mannerisms, to know when he's putting on a show. As much as he tries to appear alright, in truth he's far from being okay.
As Astarion's siblings leave, his eyes trail after them, staring off into the distance even after they're long gone. You put a hand on his shoulder, hoping to break him out of his trance. "Astarion, are you alr-" He cuts you off.
“Let’s just go home. I've had enough of this place," he says without turning around, just loud enough for you to hear.
You only nod in response and Astarion starts walking, the rest of your party following close behind.
Nobody says a word on your way back to Elfsong Tavern. Yet, you grow increasingly worried for Astarion. He looks like he's barely holding himself together, while pushing his emotions as far down as possible. You can only hope he'll open up to you later, rather than trying to pretend the events of tonight never happened.
The moment you reach Elfsong Tavern, Astarion drags himself upstairs to the floor you rented, straight to his bed where he sits down, staring at the wall. You contemplate whether it would be best to leave him alone with his thoughts for the time being, or whether you should try talking to him.
Eventually you decide to just sit down next to him, quietly reaching for his hand. "Just so you know," you start, "you don't have to talk right now if you don't want to. But I'm here for you."
Astarion nods in response, ever so slightly squeezing your hand.
You don't know how much time passes like this, but Astarion eventually breaks the silence, almost startling you with how suddenly he starts speaking.
“Do you think I made the right decision back there?” His voice doesn't have its usual smoothness to it as he speaks. Instead, it sounds sore and raspy. He just sounds tired.
“Yes.” You say it wholeheartedly, not even having to think before you respond. Astarion made the right decision - Of that you’re sure. “You’ve proven you’re better than Cazador. You didn't cause others to suffer for your own benefit. You made sure he'll never hurt anyone again. I’m absolutely certain you made the right decision.”
Astarion hums, nodding slowly as if he's contemplating your words. “At least one of us is sure, then. I really hope you’re correct.” He sighs and runs a hand over his face. "I'm not so certain I did the right thing. But maybe I should trust your judgment while I can't think straight."
You squeeze his hand tightly, and he gives a weak squeeze back. “Give it a while for everything to settle down,” you suggest, gently. “Once you’ve had some time to work through all this, I’m sure you’ll see things have worked out for the better.” He just grunts in response, letting his head sink against your shoulder. You sit like that in silence for a while, and you can tell he’s on the brink of falling asleep.
“Hey, how about we get all this blood off you and go to sleep?” You suggest, running a hand through his hair. Astarion just nods, allowing you to pull him along and lead him towards the small bathtub in the bathroom.
You run some warm water and grab a sponge while Astarion sits in the tub. Under normal circumstances he probably wouldn't let you take care of him like this, but tonight he doesn’t protest as you run the sponge over his skin, making sure to wash off the blood still sticking to his skin. He even closes his eyes for a while, completely giving himself into the care of your gentle touch as you run the water over his head in an attempt to get the blood splatters out of his hair.
Once you're sure you've gotten rid of all the blood, you bring Astarion a towel, wrapping it around him.
He sits there and watches as you grab a second towel, using it to dry his hair.
As you're about to put the towel away, you suddenly find Astarion's arms finding their way around your waist, pulling you close enough for him to rest his head against your torso.
You freeze in place, only moving enough to drop the towel and run your hand through Astarion's still damp hair. Just by his expression you can tell he needs to be close to you right now, and you have no intention of denying him that comfort.
After a while of being together like this in silence, you gently nudge Astarion. "Let's get you to bed, alright? It'll be much more comfortable there."
Astarion seems reluctant to let go of you, finally agrees to it after you promise not to leave his side for the night (not that you would've done so either way).
As he climbs into bed, you lie down next to him, pulling him into your arms. Astarion seems happy to rest his head on your chest. He seems almost peaceful like this, listening to your heartbeat while you run a hand across his back with gentle strokes.
"Thank you. For taking care of me… And for stopping me from probably making a big mistake. It's good to have someone looking out for me for once," Astarion mumbles, sounding like he's on the edge of falling asleep.
You run a hand through his still damp hair. "Don't mention it. You would've done the same for me." You press a kiss to his forehead, catching a glimpse of the slightest smile curling Astarion's lips. "And I hope you know you can always rely on me."
Astarion nods, hugging you a little tighter. "Yes. And I'm grateful for that, too."
Soon after, the only thing you hear is Astarion's soft breaths as he drifts off to sleep. You can only hope the next day will be a little brighter for him. But if not, he still has you to rely on.
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Thank you for reading 🤍
Title was inspired by this
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galedekarios · 3 months
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gale's early access dialogue transcripts - part 3: dialogues regarding various decisions & quest progression
in early access, companions used to react much more to the decisions you made in dialogue as well as the overall quest progression pertaining to the main quest as well as side quests, and the events happening around them.
these conversations would be shorter in nature and were usually marked with an exclamation mark ( ! ) over their head.
some of these conversations survived the transition from early access to the full release, but they are very few and far between. the only ones that did survive are 1) gale's reaction to nettie poisoning the protag, 2) gale's reaction to saving mirkon, and 3) gale's reaction to saving arabella.
gale was much, much more responsive in early access and had conversations with the protag about a variety of topics.
following are all cut conversations / dialogues with gale (excluding the deer stew scene and loss scene, which i have covered here and here, but have decided to exclude because they are much longer conversations):
overview:
jergal's temple
reaching the druid's grove / emerald enclave
arabella the tiefling child dies / protag stood by and did nothing
protag killed lae'zel after lae'zel tried to prevent them from turning into a mind flayer
karlach vs anders, the paladin of tyr / agent of zariel
after edowin / the siblings brynna and andrick
killing the druids
arriving at the goblin camp
finding out that the absolute's brand is magic
about true souls
dror ragzlin & the dead mindflayer
ogre + bugbear couple in moonhaven
giving the necromancy of thay tome to gale (dialogue option in player-initiated dialogue / gale asks for tome)
on ethel
on ethel's deal
after finishing mayrina's quest
the zhentarim chest / rugan
the myconid colony in the underdark
defending astarion to gandrel the gur monster hunter
handing astarion over to gandrel the gur monster hunter
arka the tiefling (kanon's sister) kills sazza the goblin / protag stood by and watched it happen
letting sazza escape
finding out about priestess gut from sazza
below the read more, you'll find the transcripts of these 23 cut conversations.
where i can and still have them, i will include screenshots and, when i can find them online, i will include links to watch those conversation in video format.
jergal's temple [link to gifset]
Gale: Bad form, isn't it? Grave robbing? Judging by those undead guardians, the architects of this crypt certainly thought so. - Protag Option 1: I'm desperate, not proud. Best to take what I can get.  Gale: Then again, to be alive is to be curious.  - Protag Option 2: Dressing up the dead is pointless. They have no need for trinkets.  Gale: Never lost a loved one, have you? Then again, those who loved these loved ones are dust and bones themselves. - Protag Option 3: A good fight and fine treasure. What's not to like? Gale: I suppose that's one way to spin it. - Protag Option 4: Why care about decorum in a long-abandoned tomb? Gale: Because my mother raised a gentleman. Then again, to be alive is to be curious.  - Protag Option 5 [Cleric]: True. My god might not be particularly happy about it. Gale: You can pray for your sins later. I’m told that does the trick. Gale: Let's have a look at the loot. It isn't for your pockets only.
2. reaching the druid's grove / emerald enclave
Gale: So much for finding a safe haven. - Protag Option 1: This is a druid grove. With a bit of luck we'll find help here.  Gale: Druids master the ancient magic that is part of nature's fabric itself. They can make bloom, and they can make wither. Let's hope the latter applies to tadpoles.  - Protag Option 2: We won't linger long.  Gale: And we shouldn't – but we'd be remiss not to give the place a once-over. Druids master the ancient magic that is part of nature's fabric itself. They can make bloom, and they can make wither. Let's hope the latter applies to tadpoles. 
3. arabella the tiefling child dies / protag stood by and did nothing [link to gifset]
Gale: This place is a snake pit in more ways than one. That poor girl... Such sudden madness.... And what did we do? We stood by and watched. Her parents – we'll have to tell them that we failed.  - Protag Option 1: Our priority remains to find a healer. The most dangerous snake is in our heads, remember? Gale: Distinctly. But it hasn't poisoned my sense of right and wrong just yet. How about yours? - Protag Option 2: We're here on Zevlor's behalf. Let's not lose sight of that.  Gale: Yes, nothing like serving up a dead child as the appetiser to successful negotiations. - Protag Option 3: Her parents deserve to know what happened. And that we are not to blame.  Gale: So inaction equals innocence? There's a small corpse on the floor over there that might just beg to differ. - Protag Option 4: This is none of our concern. Where there's strife, there will be blood. Gale: And where there's blood, there will be vengeance. This troubled grove is about to become far more troubled still. - [Arabella died because protag failed the DC twice] Protag Option 5: The girl really should have left the druid's idol alone. Look where it got her.  Gale: If the errors of youth deserve an early grave, none of us would live to see a dozen summers. There is no justification for this tragedy.
4. protag killed lae'zel after lae'zel tried to prevent them from turning into a mind flayer
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Gale: Lae'zel... that was brutal. Are you all right? I'm here if you want to talk about it. - Protag Option 1: Is there anything left to say? Gale: She was alive. Now she is dead. Might be worth a few words. Then again, maybe not. What a night... - Protag Option 2: She was danger to us all. She didn't leave me with a choice.  Gale: I was not judging, merely offering my sympathy.  One moment we are travelling together, then the next... - Protag Option 3: Don't bother. It's over and done with.  Gale: Words as final as your acts. One moment we are travelling together, then the next...
5. karlach vs anders, the paladin of tyr / agent of zariel
Gale: I have to say I don't know if agreeing to this hunt was such a wise idea. Who's to say who's the real villain in this tale of devils and masquerades? - Protag Option 1: Cheer up! It'll be fun.  Gale: Yes, I used to sign up for a round of Kill-The-Stranger every tenday back home [sarcastic]. When we track Karlach down, let's chat before we chop. - Protag Option 2: You're saying I shouldn't trust a bunch of devil-sworn pretending to be paladins of Tyr? Gale: I'm saying I really shouldn't have to point that out. When we track Karlach down, let's chat before we chop. - Protag Option 3: It's easy: I say who the villain is. Gale: My, so it's you who is Tyr then, the mighty judge of justice?  Go ahead, tell them. I'm sure they'd love to fawn all over their erstwhile patron.
6. after edowin / the siblings brynna and andrick
Gale: I have to say, it's one thing to have a parasite in your head, quite another not to know it's there. What's more, these people weren't on the nautiloid with us. Just how many mind flayers are at work in these parts? - Protag Option 1: The real question is: how does this all link to their belief in this “Absolute”? Gale: Mind flayers excel -> See Option 3 - Protag Option 2: Do you really think there may be more mind flayers around? Gale: This True Soul and his acolytes are ample proof of that...  They 're ample proof of a dread suspicion as well.  - Protag Option 3: Let's move. I don't mean to lose daylight pondering idle questions.  Gale: You really do dismiss these events too casually. - Gale: Mind flayers excel at mind games. To enthral completely is their bread and butter. What if they perfected their craft by convincing their subjects they're not thralls at all, but that they have free will? That the commandments they experience are the will of a benevolent god. How terrifying a level of perfection that would be.
7. killing the druids
Gale: If Silvanus is the mighty oak, his druids were but the weakest of his leaves, tossed by the winds of fury. I can't shake the image of what happened to the grove: the winds have blown and the harvest has come. The oak stands lone and barren.  - Protag [Druid] Option 1: A grove destroyed... I dont think I can forgive myself. Gale: After winter, spring will come, but I'm not sure we left behind much fertile ground. - Protag [Druid] Option 2: The druids caused the harvest. It was only just we did the reaping. Gale: Yes, well, I prefer to pluck apples and pick strawberries. They don't tend to weigh on one's conscience. - Protag Option 3: They were in need of a lesson – and we taught it well. Gale: One usually needs to be alive to reap the benefits of education. If anything, we taught them too well.  - Protag Option 4: They felt threatened and lashed out. A tragedy I wish we could have avoided.  Gale: Their action are on them, that much is true, but the consequences are ours to carry - Protag Option 5: Come, let's move on. What's done is done. Gale: Look around you. What's done is done, but what's wrong is also wrong.
8. arriving at the goblin camp [link to gifset]
Gale: Amid all this grandeur sunk into squalor, I wonder what dismal corner we'll find Halsin in.  - Protag Option 1: Any suggestions? Gale: Prisoners are treated the same by everyone: they serve as serfs, or they waste away in a dungeon. Stands to reason we'll find Halsin in either one of these less-than-appealing conditions.  - Protag Option 2: What grandeur is that? Gale: This must have been a splendid complex once, a temple of impressive proportions. Worshippers lived here. Pilgrims visited. They required food, shelter, ceremony, entertainment. Now that it's nothing but a goblin-ridden death-trap? Plenty of places to hide away a druid, I imagine. - Protag Option 3: With our luck? Marinating in a cooking pot most likely. Gale: A hearty serving of druid stew wouldn't do us any good. No, let's hope the best and keep this in mind: Prisoners are treated the same by everyone: they serve as serfs, or they waste away in a dungeon. If he's still alive, it stands to reason we'll find Halsin in either one of these less-than-appealing conditions. Well -more-than-appealing conditions come to think of it, when one considers the stew alternative.
9. finding out that the absolute's brand is magic
Gut: Hold out your arm so I can mark your flesh. It's charged with magic. Ordinary slobs can't see it; only us that follow the Absolute.  Gale: Charged with magic? Perhaps that explains the ease with which these goblins submit to True Souls.
10. about true souls
Gale: I can hardly wrap my head around what we've just heard. Let's list up the facts, shall we? There are other people here with tadpoles in their heads. They can hear the tadpoles speak to them, and they think it's a new god. I don't know about you, but to me, none of this makes any logical sense.  - Protag Option 1: I concur. There doesn't seem to be a logical explanation. Gale: And yet I suspect something... intelligent behind it all. Some carefully nurtured scheme. - Protag Option 2: I'm seeing too many coincidences – which tend to add up to conspiracies.  Gale: Evil cults and grand designs, is it? Mind you, I'll not even dispute the possibility. - Protag Option 3: I don't care about logic, I care about solutions. Gale: I'm not sure those are mutually exclusive. If we seek to solve we must seek to comprehend.  - Gale: But let's not lose sight of what we've learned here – what joins us and what separates us from these True Souls: They heard a voice we do not hear, a voice that binds them in servitude. As long as we're possessed of our own free will, I venture to say there's hope for us yet.
11. dror ragzlin & the dead mindflayer
Gale: A grand necromantic spectacle staged at the behest of a newfangled god to track down... us. Can't quite say which of these two wins out: to be honoured or to be horrified. - Protag Option 1: The real question is: why are they looking for us? Gale: Several guesses spring to mind, all equally plausible and implausible at once. - Protag Option 2: Not to worry: we easily tricked that hobgoblin – and his god. Gale: We tricked the minion, yes, but its master? I doubt it. - Protag Option 3: Can't say I'm thrilled to be a god's pet project. Gale: Horrified it is then. - Gale: Fact is we're being hunted, but at least we have the hunters at a disadvantage: even here, in the lion's den, they don't recognise us as their prey.
12. ogre + bugbear couple in moonhaven
Gale: One moment they were embracing each other in intimacy, the next they're embracing only death. Can't say I'm proud of our actions here.  - Protag Option 1: Me either. We should have left well enough alone Gale: Don't get me wrong, I know they'd have gladly made us their post-coital picnic given half a chance. It just feels wrong to turn lovemaking into life-taking.  - Protag Option 2: Playing it a bit fast and loose with the word 'intimacy' there, Gale. Gale: I'm not contemplating definitions, I'm contemplating our deeds. Don't get me wrong, I know they'd have gladly made us their post-coital picnic given half a chance. It just feels wrong to turn lovemaking into life-taking.  - Protag Option 3: Don't dwell on it. Ogres and bugbears are nothing but vermin. Gale: And yet they speak and bond and revel. Don't get me wrong, I know they'd have gladly made us their post-coital picnic given half a chance. It just feels wrong to turn lovemaking into life-taking.
13. giving the necromancy of thay tome to gale (dialogue option in player-initiated dialogue / gale asks for tome)
Gale: Much obliged. Narrator: you watch Gale perusing the book with a true wizard's fascination. A few pages in, something startles him.  Gale: A rough read indeed... I'll give it my undivided attention at a more appropriate time.
14. on ethel
Gale: You know, I think there's a little something more to Ethel than meets the eye. 'Hag' is the word they used.  If that's what she really is, she's beyond dangerous.  - Protag Option 1: If that's what she is, that means we killed two innocent men. Gale: But theit sister still lives. And I doubt Auntie has her over for tea and conversation. - Protag Option 2: Hags are powerful creatures. She might actually be able to help us with the parasite.  Gale: See Option 3 - Protag Option 3: She hinted at a reward. That's all I really care about. Gale: Beware of a hag bearing gifts. They're never gifts to begin with.
15. on ethel's deal
Gale: Netherese. A portentous word. Combine it with mind flayers, and it's... unspeakable. - Protag Option 1: What do you make of it all? Gale: What we can do is combine what we know and make our deductions. At the heart of it all, the problem is clear: we've been infected by a mind flayer parasite. So far, however, we've been spared the dread fate that is ceremorphosis. How have we been spared? It would seem the answer is that the parasite is somehow infused with Netherese magic – more powerful, more sinister than it has any right to be. The question remains, however: why? Infected, but unchanging. Blind cogs in an all-seeing machine. - Protag Option 2: If even a hag can't help us, who can? Gale: I... I actually don't know. All we can do is combine what we know and make our deductions- See Option 1 - Protag Option 3: It's all gibberish as far as I'm concerned. Gale: No, there's meaning to it. There has to be.  All we can do is combine- See Option 1 - Protag Option 4: None of this actually solves our problems. Gale: I know, but let's consider this: at the heart of it all, not only is our problem clear, but so is the motive of our enemy: power. All power has a nexus. Find it, and we may just find both the answers and the remedy we seek. - Protag Option 5: Get to the point if you have one. Gale: I was merely thinking out loud, but if you desire a point, consider this: See Option 4 - Protag Option 6: Enough talk. Let's go. Gale: Fine, but while we walk, consider this: See Option 4
16. after finishing mayrina's quest [link to gifset]
Gale: Hags really do redefine depravity, don't they? A promise kept in the cruellest of ways: a loved one returned, undead.  - Protag Option 1: This entire affair sickens me. I wish we'd had no part in it. Gale: We don't always choose the roles we play. All we can do is perform them to the best of our ability.  [Connor killed] At least the curtain's fallen on this tragedy. The lovers' tale is quite over.  [Connor alive] Can't say I'm very enthusiastic though, about the extra you just cast. - Protag Option 1: Hags thrive on corruption. It is simply their nature Gale: A nature that, as far as I'm concerned, deserves to go extinct.  [Connor killed] As extinct as the happiness Ethel cut out of Mayrina. [Connor alive] So does that abhorrent thing-once-man. For god's sake let his eternal sleep be free of this undead nightmare. - Protag Option 3: You have to admit Auntie Ethel knows how to have some fun. Gale: [disapproves] You can't possibly mean that.  [Connor killed] In any case, the man's dead for good. The spectacle has come to a close. Fun's over.  [Connor alive] Although, judging by the newest company you've decided to keep, you may just be depraved enough yourself to mean that after all.
17. the zhentarim chest / rugan
Gale: So you threatened your way into ownership of that chest. Now that it's yours, what will you do with it? - Protag Option 1: I say we hold on to it until we find the rightful owner. Gale: So that means you're not curious as to what's inside? Very well, suit yourself... - Protag Option 2: Let's seell it. We're bound to make a tidy profit.  Gale: See Option 1 - Protag Option 3: I will do what is meant to be done with a sealed chest: open it. Gale: Music to my curious ears!
18. the myconid colony in the underdark [link to gifset]
Gale: Spores that can raise the dead... These myconids certainly are fascinating creatures.  Protag Option 1: They make for good allies.  Gale: Agreed. And there are precious few of those in the Underdark. - Protag Option 2: They're more dangerous than I thought. We should be on our guard.  Gale: They will remain welcome hosts unless we turn hostile. Should be easy enough to avoid. - Protag Option 3: Sorry, but I don't share your fascination for fungi.  Gale: Nobody's perfect. 
19. defending astarion to gandrel the gur monster hunter [link to youtube video]
[Protag defends Astarion] Gale: How thoroughly invigorating it is to stand by one's friend in the face of danger. Even if that friend is an egomaniacal vampire with moral longevity of a mayfly. - Protag Option 1: We did the right thing and that's all there is to it. Gale: It's charming that you think that. - Protag Option 2: Are you saying that you would have thrown Astarion to the wolves? Gale: Never. What harm did the wolves ever do? - Protag Option 3: I'll remember you skepticism if anyone ever comes looking for you. Gale: ?
20. handing astarion over to gandrel the gur monster hunter
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[Protag hands Astarion over to Gandrel the Gur Monster Hunter] Gale: I had a friend who had a dog once. Beautiful animal, but it got mean in its old days. Gale: It would growl and bark at everyone. Even bit him at the end. Gale: Yet still it was the saddest of occasions when he took the dog away for good. - Protag Option 1: It was for the best, I'm sure. Gale: I'm not sure the dog would agree. Gale: Astarion wouldn't. I'm absolutely sure of that. - Protag Option 2: Parting is never easy. Gale: ? - Protag Option 3: Put the mongrel down, did he? Gale: ?
21. arka the tiefling (kanon's sister) kills sazza the goblin / protag stood by and watched it happen [link to gifset]
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Gale: Arka's thirst for revenge has been sated... and the goblin welcomed death with open arms. All's well with the world one might argue. And yet there's something unsettling about witnessing an execution. - Protag Option 1: I take no pleasure in it, but justice has been done. Gale: No one will mourn this goblin I suppose. Let's leave it at that. - Protag Option 2: Somehow that sounds a condemnation. Gale: I condemn nothing - but a question can be a mirror: Gale: If it's guilt you see reflected, the condemnation is your own. - Protag Option 3: I have no patience for the squeamish. Gale: You imply a weakness. I say a critical mind is one of our greatest strengths.
22. letting sazza the goblin escape
Gale: I know I said it's not inconceivable a goblin priestess could help us. And yet... was it really wise to set another goblin free so she can arrange introductions? - Protag Option 1: Passing up the promise of a healer would be far more unwise. Gale: A perfectly reasonable train of thoughts. But what if she leads her entire tribe to the grove? - Protag Option 2: What's done is done. Doubt doesn't help us.  Gale: I'm not quite done yet. What if she leads her entire tribe to the grove? - Protag Option 3: Keep your misgivings to yourself. Gale: But consider the consequences. What if she leads her entire tribe to the grove? -> Protag Option 1: I'll make sure that doesn't happen Gale: I'm not sure you can. - Protag Option 2: Getting rid of the tadpole comes first. Otherwise we might be the monsters that destroy this place. Gale: Harsh. But fair. If not given too much further thought. - Protag Option 3: I don't care, I owe this grove no allegiance. Gale: No allegiance, no. Though we don't need to sign its death warrant.
23. finding out about priestess gut from sazza
Gale: Booyahg – the goblin word for magic. Primitive to a fault, but not entirely without merit. To seek some goblin priestess' help would be unconventional to say the least. Then again, I'm not one to advocate conventionality.  - Protag Option 2: A goblin healer sounds absurd to me. Gale: I wouldn't dismiss the idea out of hand. Goblins come from a warrior culture: to heal wounds is a highly prized skill. - Protag Option 1: I don't care if a cure comes from a goblin, an ogre, or an orc: as long as it works, I'm happy.  Gale: My sentiments exactly.  - Gale: If this priestess is indeed a master in the arts of booyahg, it's not inconceivable she could be of help to us. And if she isn't, we might find items of interest among her shamanic paraphernalia. If her tribe doesn't kill us on sight, that is.
thank you for reading! please consider liking and reblogging this post to support my work. thank you.
coming up next:
-part 1: the three tadpole dreams -> completed -part 2: major cut scenes: the deer stew scene & the loss scene -> completed -part 3: minor cut scenes: abandoned temple of jergal, failed to save arabella, talking to the paladins of tyr and agreeing to go after karlach, edowin and the tadpole reveal, mayrina giving ethel's wand to her or breaking it, handing astarion over to the gur or defending him, reaching the druid grove, killing lae'zel, reaching the goblin camp & looking for halsin, killing the druids, priestess gut & the brand & the cult of the absolute, dror ragzlin and talking to the dead mind flayer, ogre couple, necromancy of thay, ethel, zhentarim chest, myconid colony -> completed with this post -part 4: gale's condition & the way it was treated in early access
taglist: @chainsawmascara, @randomfanner, @tacogoats, @khajiit-necromancer, @gwinharper, @galesenchantedpanties, @swampfaerie, @ardently-queer, @nirraein, @gale-enjoyer, @xiv-wolfram, @kairoswouldnever, @a-psychopathic-dream, @toboldlydammitjim, @mishtress, @vcxahlia, @fitzmagus,
i thought i'd tag the people i'd seen taking an interest in my original post! if you want to be taken off the taglist, or added, please let me know!
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dooberific · 9 months
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alhaitham x eremite!afab!reader
wc: 1.2k
genre: nsfw with a dash of pet names, light exhibitionism, and creampie bc wtf not
summary: guess you better look under the cut and find out for yourself huh?
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You hated Alhaitham.
You hated his dismissive attitude, his condescending tones and sharp replies.
You hated how good he was at manipulating people, how easily he could get what he wanted with minimal effort, how perfectly he had constructed his life and career to cater to his every tiny whim while having the audacity to act bothered.
But what you hated the most about him?
How easily he had got your name added to a group of Driyosh heading to investigate the Khaj-Nisut.
How he knew you wouldn’t refuse the chance and that you would be indispensable in their search for more information on King Deshret’s tomb as you were from a proud Eremite clan.
How easily he had split you away from the rest of the group under the guise of watching your interpretation of the glyphs carved into the walls.
How quickly he had cornered you in the quiet of the abandoned Throne room of King Deshret, and how effective he was at making your body betray itself.
“Shhh, you don’t want them to find you like this now do you?” He chided in your ear. Some part of you despised how calm his voice sounded now, yet that little gripe died quickly at the hand of his ministrations that left you quietly gasping, back arching against his chest as his thick fingers pumped into your pussy.
Your skirt was hiked up past your ass, your panties soaked through with the juices he coaxed out of your body. Your tits spilled out of your blouse, nipples peaked from the chill of the crypt that was a harsh contrast to the hot breath of the Scribe which fanned over your neck as he trailed wet kisses down the column of your throat. Your entire body trembled as he inserted another finger, his long digits curling deeply inside your walls, probing for that spongy spot that would have your knees weak and your head fuzzy from ecstasy.
He knew the exact moment he found it, your body stiffening with a gasp as your hands braced tightly to his arms, as if trying to fight him away from your most intimate places. He didn’t budge, fingers curling into that spot where he could feel your gummy walls clamp tighter around his fingers, his thumb venturing up to roll your clit under its pad.
“Haitham!” You choked out, jerking in his arms as your hips tried to flee from the onslaught only to end up pressing deeper into his own, feeling the stiff outline of his cock straining in his pants against your ass.
So badly you wished you could control your body, yet the foggy haze settling into your brain spurred you on to chase the high that was riding the fingers of the Akademiya’s Scribe in the throne room of the god of your people. Surely you had relinquished your spot in heaven now, hips rolling in an attempt to stimulate yourself further on his fingers.
You could feel a chuckle reverberate through his chest. “You like that, princess?” He mused, rolling your clit in tight and harsh circles, thriving for how your mouth fell open so dumbly, how you begged for his attention, for the breathy gasps of his name already falling from your kiss bitten lips.
A loud clatter snapped both of you back to reality, both freezing in place despite the compromising position you stood in and listening closely to the little sounds that traveled up to the private sanctuary you were in from the larger chambers below. Your walls clamped tightly upon his fingers from your surprise, the mounting distress of the situation only tightening the knot coiling in your stomach.
The voices of the rest of the research team were muffled by the countless stone walls between you, but you could still make out their words. They were bickering about translations, how they really needed to find where you and the Scribe had ventured off too because surely one of you would know the correct answer.
“Did you hear that, princess? They’re looking for us, guess we better hurry things along.” Came Alhaitham’s warm, breathy laugh against the shell of your ear. You shuddered, yet mustered the most hateful tone you could as you forced his fingers out of your weeping cunt and rounded on him, jabbing a finger into his chest.
“Oh, think you have it in you, feeble scholar?”
Dual-colored eyes bore into you for a moment, as if sizing up your challenge. “Feeble as I may be,” he relented, raising his hand still sticky with your fluids, spreading his fingers before your eyes as the viscous liquid slowly seeped down towards his covered knuckles, “someone has to take care of this.”
And take care of it he certainly had.
You had kissed every semblance of heaven goodbye. It wasn’t for you anymore. You were perched on the lap of a man not native to the desert, your legs hooked over his thighs and spread widely enough to take him as he bounced you on his cock while sitting on the throne of the dead god of your people.
The wet, slapping sound of sex filled the chamber, echoing back to your ears as Alhaitham bullied your pussy until you had gone dumb in his arms, babbling quiet nonsense while your pussy worked diligently over his intruding length.
You couldn’t count the times you had been taken to the edge of an orgasm only to be overstimulated into the next, a ring of tears lining your lashes from the pleasured cries you had worked so desperately to muffle as to not alert your fellow researchers who’s voices you could hear growing slowly closer to your location.
“I’m close.” Alhaitham warned, giving your clit a sharp pinch as you gasped aloud. His chest pressed against your back, bending you nearly in two as he fucked into you with a new fervor. You could feel the press of his thick cock in your womb, its leaky head ramming into your cervix as you cried his name like a prayer. That coil in your gut he had worked so diligently to form snapped with a sudden white heat, your mind going blank save for the pleasure rolling through your veins like molten metal.
Alhaitham let out a choked noise as your pussy tried to milk him of his seed prematurely, continuing to fuck into you till his own pace stuttered. He bit down onto your shoulder, and with a deep groan gave in to your biological response.
You felt so full it could have driven you crazy as you shakily righted yourself, cringing from the overstimulation of his re-hardened cock against your walls. Your eyes ventured to where you two were connected, a creamy ring having formed at his base of his cock.
You went to rise only for him to catch your hips. “Don’t move.” He hissed as he forced you back onto his cock, a whimper leaving your lips as you squirmed. Despite having barely lifted yourself off of him you could feel the cum sitting deep in your womb shift down with the absence of his cock, the fluid leaking out of your pussy. Your eyes widened, watching as it leaked onto the seat before pooling and running down the face of the throne.
You were totally screwed.
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Rey, 2023
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prickly-paprikash · 7 months
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Annette in Rondo of Blood was literally nothing more than a damsel in distress who's whole purpose is to give Richter motivation to fight against Dracula. And to help him continue the bloodline.
In other versions, she's turned into a vampire and is obsessed with Richter.
I'm sorry, but I have two questions.
In any of these, is Annette being of pure white descent necessary? Is her being blonde and pale a defining part of her character? Is there anything, anything at all that demands Annette be a white woman in every single adaptation?
No.
She's just a plot and lore device. Be saved by Richter. Love Richter. Continue the Belmont line.
That's it for Game Annette.
In Nocturne?
She's a warrior who escaped bondage and burned her slavers to the ground. She communes with her ancestors who have long since passed. She feels grief. She mourns. She regrets. She knows, in her heart, that she was at fault for Edouard's demise the same way Richter knows his mom had a better chance of survival had he got on the ship. Rage flourishes in Annette. Love grows between Annette and Richter.
She hates. She weeps. She forgives.
Annette is a character made whole in Nocturne. It also adds so much to her for being a Black, Creole woman.
Richter and Annette are parallels with key differences. Both are haunted by their mothers' deaths. Both are warrior-mages who do battle up-close while using their magic as supplementary to their combat, whilst Maria and Tera focus more on magic and use sword-play as their supplementary skills. Both carry legacies too heavy to bear, yet they persevere.
Richter feels like he's trying to forget he's a Belmont. He is cut off from the magical world. Annette on the other hand continues to push herself to connect to the realm of her Ancestors and her gods. Annette burns with a righteous rage against the ruling class. Richter is consumed by his trauma and puts up an apathetic facade when we first meet him.
They are both made whole after their failure in the crypts. Annette kills her slaver. Richter connects with his grandfather.
They are both stubborn, flawed, dauntless warriors. Richter is arrogant. Annette is vengeful. Both of them manage to fail during separate assaults on the Abbey. Both grow and heal from these failures.
Those fuckers who hate Annette for being 'too different from the source material' are dweebs.
Because Annette in the game isn't even a character! Just a tool! A supporting face! That's all she is.
Nocturne takes many creative liberties that expand on the world.
Just say you hate Annette for being black. Be honest with your racism. It makes it easier for everyone to identify who's a mouthbreathing bigot.
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Audio
Misfits – Fiend Without a Face
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martyrbat · 1 year
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at the racetrack | bruce & jason — detective comics #571
[ID: Two panels of Bruce Wayne and Jason Todd at a racetrack. The background has been edited to be solid pale pink in both photos. Bruce is wearing a green suit and a red, striped tie as he holds binoculars. Jason wears a yellow cardigan and a red baseball cap as he juggles holding a soda, a bucket of popcorn, and a hotdog. In the first photo, they're shown in a direct front view. Bruce is glancing at Jason as Jason grins happily at him and has his mouth full. In the second photo, Bruce's back is to us as Jason is in an oblique from behind view and is still chewing his food. END ID]
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[ID: two sets of the same photos as before but in one set, the background has been edited to be a gradient light blue to salmon pink instead. The second set is the original panels, where they sit amongst a packed crowd. END ID]
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alltimefail-sims · 2 months
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Braids, locs, coils, puffs, twists, fros - whatever the form or style, black hair is beautiful and deserving of its own spotlight! ❤
Make sure to click the pic for higher quality! This is part 3/5; find Part 1 HERE, find part 2 HERE, find part 3 HERE.
Download links are below the cut. Enioy! ↓
133 / 134 / 135 / 136 / 137 / 138 / 139 140 / 141 / 142 / 143 / 144 / 145 / 146* 147 / 148 (topaz) / 149 / 150 / 151 / 152 153 / 154 / 155 / 156 / 157 / 158 / 159 160 / 161 / 162 / 163 / 164* / 165* / 166 167 / 168 / 169 / 170 / 171 / 172 173 / 174 / 175 / 176
Anything marked with a * means it’s from the Sims Resource.
Thanks to all the talented cc creators! @simtric, @arethabee (for updating the color swatches on cowconut's original hair), @leeleesims1 (+ @babolat85 for updating), @sashima, @ceeproductions, @ridgeport, @candysims4, @nolan-sims, @ice-creamforbreakfast, @yooniesim, @bustedpixels, @qrqr19, @plumbobteasociety (+ @fiftymilehighclub for updating the swatches), @oranos, @xldkx-cc, @uxji, @the-crypt-o-club, @oydis, @goamazons, @aladdin-the-simmer, @thekunstwollen, @mercisims
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kiame-sama · 7 months
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Warnings; bg3, full party (because I want them all there to talk), Druid Tav*, Slight druid path spoilers I guess?, Owlbear, Protector type Tav, yandere companions (ALL of them), basic identity spoilers for first act followers, slight early story spoilers, they/them reader, yandere Raphael makes an appearance too.
* Tav is the name that always appears in the character generator first, so technically Tav is the unofficial term for the player character- or Reader in this scenario.
~~~~~~~~
The large owlbear lumbered slowly amongst the fallen undead, using the sharp beak to pick around the bodies for anything useful. Of course, not everything picked up by the defacto leader of the group was typically deemed useful. Such was the way of the unusual soul the group found themselves following the every whim of.
Countless battles had been won with their leadership and each companion had true respect for their leader, even if respect for the other companions was variable. To take them from desperate and hopeless about their plight to truly believing they could succeed their impossible mission. Each odd soul brought in to the fold by the odd druid may not believe, but they believed in how much their leader believed. For them, this was enough.
This meant that when their trusted leader wandered around as a creature that could feasibly carry three of them, they just followed along and grabbed what they wanted if their leader didn't pick it up first. They trusted their leader to distribute loot and treasure adequately based off of who could best use what was collected. Still, that didn't make the experience any less surreal, even for those who were familiar with druids that favored their bestial forms.
"Astarion, do you ever feel like we, as a group, just adapt to everything around us a little too well?"
Gale, the wizard of the group walked next to the rogue vampire spawn, his arms crossed in a contemplative way. Never before would he have imagined himself having light banter with such a being without bloodshed, but here he was regardless.
"Do tell me you are joking, right?"
"No, should I be?"
"God's, Gale, we're all stuck here as a group with only one thing in common- the fact that we're facing impossible odds to simply survive- and we can barely keep ourselves from killing each other. On top of that, just what do you think we're doing right now? Hm?"
"... Collecting the spoils of our battle?"
There was a distinct moment of silence as the beautiful vampire spawn stared at the wizard with a look of disbelief and disgust. The apparent pause catching the attention of the rest of the party- minus the owlbear lumbering ahead of the group- as they all decided to listen in. It was good fun to hear the others squabble and it gave a sense of comradery despite the situation they were in, misery loving company in most ways, though things weren't seeming too miserable now.
"We are in a temple that is inside of a crypt- some depth underground- picking amongst the remains of reanimated corpses that have all been stomped to death by our Owlbear leader. Not to mention this leader who just so happens to be the most balanced person among us and somehow isn't corrupt as all hells while doing it."
Some of the others nodded along in their own ways, knowing Astarion's assessment wasn't too far off from the crux of the situation they found themselves in. A few cast glances at the afore mentioned owlbear leader who seemed rather content rooting through what little remained from their earlier rampage.
"And they're hot as the hells while doing it."
Karlach, the literal flaming tiefling barbarian, commented, putting herself in the conversation with a wide grin.
"You're one to talk, Karlach," Wyll playfully jabbed back, "You've literally got fire coming out of you!"
"You know I'm right though!"
"Well, I didn't say you were wrong."
Before the two could continue, Astarion cut them off, bringing the now group conversation back to Gale.
"Anyways, my point still stands. We are not the ones who make this all work. They make it work for us. We are stuck together- like it or not- and they call the shots. We can get used to anything because they can get used to anything. Don't pat yourself on the back too hard now, it might get you excited."
Gale slightly winced at that jab, given the fact that he was the most obvious about being smitten with the group leader, and yet his beloved was completely unaware of how hard he had fallen. How hard they all had fallen.
"Are you all fools," Shadowheart hissed in a low voice, "you know they can hear us, right?"
It was Lae'zel's turn to bark out a laugh, her lips curled in a sly grin as she regarded the Sharian cleric. It gave the Githyanki soldier a sense of satisfaction to know something about their leader the cleric didn't.
"They can't understand us in that owlbear form. Why else would these fools talk so plainly?"
Unknown to them, their leader could understand them, but simply didn't want to cause in-fighting or favoritism to arise. So they simply carried on as if unaware of the conversation, just trying to focus on finding what was salvageable.
Unknown to them all, a demon watched from the rafters. His arms were crossed and a grin played across his lips. He had to admit, that druid was certainly a fetching prize as they clearly enamored not only their mismatched companions but him as well. Time would leave him the last among them by the druid's side, he would ensure it. Besides, he had plenty of time to wait.
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beansprean · 18 days
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Just a little convo that's been in my notes FOREVER because I meant to use it for something else, but it no longer fit after a while. Gave me a chance to practice painting lol
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(ID in alt and under cut)
ID: 1a. Close up on a side table in Nandor's crypt, laden with a glazed patterned vase, a wooden jewelry box, a line of books, and a single candle on an intricate vintage holder, lit and casting a warm orange glow on its surroundings. From offscreen, Guillermo says, "I've done a lot of thinking, and I've figured it out. I do want to be a vampire...but not for the same reasons I used to." 1b. Wide shot, knees up of Nandor and Guillermo standing facing each other next to Nandor's coffin, lit from the far side by candles. Nandor, wearing a typical tunic under a fur lined cape, stares quietly at Guillermo and idly knocks the knuckles of his left hand against the coffin lid. Guillermo, wearing a violet shirt and tie with red trousers and waistcoat, has his left hand in his pocket and his right placed palm-down on the coffin lid, a few inches from Nandor's. He looks at his right hand as he speaks: "The powers, the sexiness, the cool capes - I mean that's all great but I... I realize I could have all that as a human, too. And I have." 1c. Close up of their hands on the coffin lid as Guillermo's hand slides closer to Nandor's. He continues: "But what I want...what I really want...is to be a vampire..." 1d. Chest up of Guillermo as he looks up at Nandor with a confident smile, back straight, lit warmly by candles. He declares, "So I can stay here with you, forever. As part of this family."
2a. Reaction shot of Nandor, eyes shining as he raises his brows and fights down the happy, wobbly smile that threatens to take over his face. He echoes breathlessly, "With...me?" 2b. Wide shot, waist up of them both. Guillermo looks away with a flustered grin and clarifies, "Uh! Well, you know. With everybody. Nadja, and..." Nandor turns his head away as well, flustered and frowning, and mutters "Right, yes, of course." Guillermo continues, trailing off: "Laszlo..." Nandor grunts "Uh-huh." Their hands are still an inch apart on the coffin lid. Guillermo ventures, "But also..." 2c. Close up of their hands as Guillermo's slides closer again, the tips of his fingers bumping against Nandor's knuckles. Guillermo continues, "Specifically..." 2d. Close up on Guillermo from a slightly higher angle as he looks up at Nandor through his lashes with a shy smile and shining eyes, finally saying, "You." 2e. Reverse shot of Nandor from a slightly lower angle, looking down at Guillermo with open wonder.
3a. Waist up of them both in profile. Guillermo starts to say, "And I know that y-" but is interrupted when Nandor launches forward with his hands on Guillermo's cheeks and pulls him into a kiss. Guillermo's eyes fly wide, perhaps less surprised than he should be, and Nandor's close in something like relief. 3b. Repeat. Nandor's right hand remains on Guillermo's cheek as his left arm snakes around his upper back to hold him close. Guillermo presses into the kiss, opening his mouth to let in Nandor's tongue as his hands creep beneath Nandor's cape. 3c. Repeat. They continue to kiss, heads shifting to the side to allow Guillermo to slip his own tongue into Nandor's mouth. Guillermo has unfastened Nandor's cape and is letting it drop to the floor. Nandor's right hand has plucked off Guillermo's glasses and is holding them aloft as his left tugs at the knot of Guillermo's tie. 3d. Repeat. Nandor shifts his head to deepen the kiss further, right hand tossing Guillermo's glasses carelessly behind him and left curling around the back of Guillermo's neck. Guillermo, tie now loose and top shirt buttons unfastened, presses his left hand to Nandor's chest where his brooch has been removed to allow access to his undershirt. His right hand hovers behind Nandor's head. 3e. Repeat. The kiss finally breaks, but they do not go far, Nandor's left hand still hooked around the back of Guillermo's neck as he turns his head to kiss down his cheek. His right hand pushes Guillermo's vest off his shoulder. Guillermo turns his head into Nandor's, eyes still closed, and gasps out "Mm, you'll...ah..." His right hand is tangled in Nandor's hair and his left deftly snaps open Nandor's belt.
4a. Repeat. Nandor kisses his way down to Guillermo's throat, hands now pulling Guillermo's shirt from his trousers and sneaking his hands underneath. Guillermo arches his neck to allow him room to explore, right hand fisted in Nandor's hair to hold him there as his left slides under Nandor's open tunic front. Smiling with eyes closed in bliss, Guillermo continues, "turn me...after...right?" 4b. Repeat. Nandor pulls back from Guillermo's throat, eyes closed and smiling happily, to let Guillermo press kisses from his cheekbone to the corner of his mouth. Guillermo is pulling Nandor's tunics off his shoulders, the buttons on his undershirt undone and exposing his chest. Nandor's hands are busy at the front of Guillermo's shirt, pulling apart the remaining buttons. Nandor sighs, "Oh, Guillermo..." 4c. Repeat. Nandor fists his hands at the collar of Guillermo's now open shirt to pull him aggressively upwards, looming down on him nose-to-nose with a feral grin. He promises, "During." Guillermo melts and grins helplessly, hearts drifting around his head. /end ID
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aphrogeneias · 6 months
Text
sympathy for the devil — one-shot
pairing: vampire!eddie munson x slayer!reader x werewolf!steve harrington
summary: during a normal night of your slayer duties, a familiar pair pays you a visit.
word count: 2.4k
warnings: smut (+18), graveyard sex, semi-public sex, threesome, oral sex (f and m receiving), fingering, praise and degradation, slight choking, eddie is a little mean.
author's note: this was written for the prompt "vampires and werewolves" of my 2023 kinktober entries list. i hope you enjoy it! this au will be expanded in the future.
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The fascinating thing about cemeteries at night is not the haunting atmosphere, or the shadows made by the architecture, nor is it the art gracing the stone walls of the tombs and crypts. It’s the sound of the wind coursing through empty corridors between the gravestones, like a low and ever present symphony, a calming presence throughout the night.
On a slow, autumn night, you find it almost comforting. While you sit on top of one of the many tall tombs, clutching on your fluffy coat sleeves to keep you warm, the air current resonates around you and keeps your senses focused. The heavy crossbow strapped to your back does the rest.
A Slayer’s night life is much more interesting in theory. In reality, it requires a lot of planning, sitting and waiting, and it has been your routine since the tender age of fifteen - it got awfully boring sometimes. The dark of the night and the creatures that dwelled in it did not scare you anymore. You’re the one they should be scared of.
Not that there’s anything to scare tonight, except for the occasional roach roaming the ground and startling you whenever you catch a glimpse of them. Are Vampire Slayers allowed to fear insects?
Please, don’t tell anyone.
A rustling in the grass catches your attention. It’s approaching fast and steady, therefore it means one of two things: either a normal human who has nothing better to do on a tuesday night, or something else looking for trouble. You know it’s not a new vampire — the ones you were waiting for this evening — because the newly undead are slow and confused when fresh out of the grave. These heavy steps were already right behind you.
You jump out of the tomb, fast reflexes whipping out your crossbow and promptly aiming at your unknown target. As a warning, for now. You aren’t the shoot first, ask questions later kind of girl.
At the sight of you — chin raised, eyes fierce, crossbow at the ready — the target in question smiles. Full on, white teeth and sharp fangs. 
“Missed me?”
The sight makes your knees weak, and not in a good way.
“What are you doing here?”
Eddie Munson looks exactly like he did when he crawled out of whatever hell hole he fell in 1986. Not that you know from experience, you weren't there, but it was obvious. The messy, shaggy hair cut, unruly curls you regrettably dreamed of pulling on again. All the leather, latex and spikes, the a-little-too-tight denim. The devil may care attitude that may have outcasted him one day, now just more of a nuisance than anything.
Despite his carefreeness, you'd seen his scars. He didn't go down without a fight, and whoever sired him wasn't just a regular vampire. It reeked of something far more sinister than what you were used to.
Maybe that's why you'd grown soft on him.
He shrugs. "We were in town. Thought we'd pay a visit to our favorite girl."
You're yet to see the other person Eddie was referring to, but make no mention of it. It's less complicated this way — after numerous encounters with Eddie, you learned that it's better to speak less, lest he uses what you said against you.
When you don't respond, he merely steps closer. His head tilts to the side, curls falling down his shoulder. There's a small lift to the corner of his lips. Asshole. "Aren't you happy to see me?"
"Happy is an overstatement. Just glad you're here and not wreaking havoc somewhere else."
Eddie chuckled, deep in his throat. You can't deny the effect it has on you. "Are you gonna watch over me? Keep vigil? I could think of better ways to spend our time."
"I could kill you." There is no conviction in your voice, but your eyes remain harsh and your face guarded. “Stake to the heart, problem solved.”
There is, however, a lot of conviction in Eddie's. “You wouldn’t.” In defiance, he draws closer and closer to you, the wooden tip of the arrow triggered in your crossbow digging into his chest, but not hard enough to break through. Despite yourself, you lower your weapon little by little, until it lays useless between the two of you.
“You would miss me too much.” The vampire’s low voice right below your ear, his chest now brushing yours. You hope he can’t hear your growing faster by the second, like a hummingbird stuck inside your ribcage, but you know it’s too late for that. His lips touch your earlobe with every word uttered. “Besides, if you kill me, then who’s gonna make you cum like I do?” 
Another voice comes from behind you, startling your already withered nerves. "I don't know. I think I could handle that on my own just fine." 
There he is.
Steve Harrington isn't usually as much of a thorn on your side as his partner is. You'd met him in high school, almost a decade ago. Rich parents, cute girlfriend, royalty status — he disappeared one cold October night after your graduation and returned with an excessively hairy problem every full moon.
He doesn't look like the stereotypical werewolf. Clean cut, polo shirts and pressed jeans. His luscious hair always coiffed to perfection. Some things never change.
You're not sure how or when they've met, but Eddie had been a problem since before you took the mantle of the Slayer, a local legend and an overall menace. He'd show up, make a mess and you were there to pick up the pieces, every time.
Eddie took advantage of your soft heart, and used it to toy with you. Play with his food, in his own words. You hate it when he says that, but you can't help but agree deep down. You've been his — their �� plaything one too many times, and this time looked no different.
You turn around slowly, crossbow forgotten at your feet. "I was wondering when you were gonna show up."
Eddie leans closer to you, chest to your back. He's cold, but you feel the sleek fabric of his leather jacket through your coat. "So, you missed him, but not me?"
"Didn't say that." You roll your eyes, always impatient around him, even as he runs his nose over your pulse point, going against your every rule, every survival instinct. "It's just that, these days, where there's one, there's the other."
Steve is in front of you in a moment, caging you between them. "And we're here just for you." Caramel eyes with a tinge of yellow smile at you, his nose brushing yours. 
It hasn't been that long since the last time you've seen them. Now, between them again, flashbacks of a late night in your room, the open window welcoming the night air in as they took you, shadows dancing on the walls of your bedroom.
"Aren't you two sweet?" You mock them. Though your breathing has picked up and you know they could hear just how fast your heart is beating, the faux sweet tone of your voice drips with venom. "What are you really doing here? I don't have all night."
"She doesn't believe us, Steve. What will it take to convince her?" Eddie's deep voice strokes something inside of you. At the same time, his hands travel under your coat, to the slope of your waist, keeping you rooted in place.
"You know what it takes." Steve's hands, warm in contrast with Eddie's cold ones, wander under your breasts, then down to your jeans, settling on pulling you by the belt loops. "Touch her the right way and she'll stop fooling herself."
"Fooling myself?" Your arms are still limp by your sides, but their hands keep moving, igniting your body.
"I know you want this, sweetheart. You know it too, but you keep fighting it like this is the first time all over again." Eddie is practically purring behind you, "Let go. Let us take care of you."
You don't get to answer. Steve's lips are on yours, and your bodies are moving in sync, like a choreographed dance. You know each other's moves, each other's cues, what makes the other tick. Eddie is running his mouth across the expanse of your neck, kissing and sucking the sensitive skin under your ear, and down between your neck and shoulder.
It makes you pull on Steve's hair harder and in turn, he moans into your mouth, but doesn't stop kissing you. That's until you feel Eddie's sharp teeth dragging on the skin of your neck, not hard enough to break it, but enough to make every nerve stand in attention.
"Eddie," you whisper, strength slipping through your fingers at every touch of the vampire behind you, "no biting, please."
He chuckles, "Someday you're gonna admit you want this."
Steve nuzzles your cheek with his nose, "Eds, let her be."
"She knows it's gonna feel as good for her as it would for me." He turns you around, away from Steve's arms into his, "But that's okay, I can wait."
The kiss he leaves on your lips is an uncharacteristically sweet one. "I still need a taste of you, though."
Lost in his voice, in the smell of cologne and the cigarettes you don't know why he insists in smoking, in the flash of red in his deep brown eyes — predator luring in their prey — you feel yourself being manhandled by four hands, laying you down the elevated tomb you were previously sitting on.
You let go.
You let go like the last time, and the time before that. You've denied yourself too many things before, but this is yours, and as conflicted as you feel, it still feels good.
It feels good when Eddie lays you down, the cold of the stone beneath you giving way to the scorching hot feeling taking over your insides, the tingle on your lower tummy when he removes your jeans along with your underwear. 
"You're cute when you're all docile like this, y'know?" He's kissing up your thighs, leaving a trail of spit to the crease of your hip, almost where you need him the most. "Cute, little Slayer, on her back for me."
"Fuck you, Munson." You bite back.
"I'm trying to, baby. Will you let me?" Another kiss is laid to your mound, just above your clit. You let out a shaky breath, vaguely aware of Steve standing just beside you.
"Just get over with it." You mumble through your teeth.
Eddie doesn't waste time. His rough hands are cold on your thighs, keeping then spread open, but his tongue is wet and soft, delivering long licks from your entrance to your clit, flattening his tongue on it. He alternates between licking and sucking, slurping on it, like the slick that it's pouring from your pussy feeds him just as well as your blood would.
Bucking your hips into his face, you whine to the skies above you. Looking to your side, you reach out for Steve, who watches you with haze filled eyes. It's a wordless conversation — you reach for his belt, pulling him by it, and he helps you unfasten it. 
He's hard when you pull him out of his boxers, and the size of it never ceases to impress you. Steve pumps his length in his hand as he watches Eddie eat you out, his partner moaning into your pussy and making you moan in turn. "Take your time, honey."
You do. When his hips are right in front of your face, you start by giving kitten licks to his head, and taking it in your mouth to suck on it. Steve blushes a pretty pink, and there's the yellow flash in his eyes again, glimmering in the night.
It's a push and pull between the three of you. You take Steve in your mouth, inch by inch as Eddie feasts on your pussy, taking a minute to lift your shirt up, but still leaving your coat on. You're practically bare, Eddie's hands wandering over your body, tugging and pulling on your tender flesh, as you gag on Steve's cock.
Deep down, you wonder what someone would think if they wandered in on you like this. Deep down, you can't bring yourself to care.
"Look at what a good girl you can be. You just choose not to." Eddie coos from between your legs, just before sucking your clit between his plush lips, making you cry out. "You want to be a good girl for us. You fucking love it."
"Don't fight it, baby." Steve's voice is wrecked, but the movements of his hips don't falter. You feel him twitch deep within your throat. "Fuck, you're making me feel so good. Your mouth is heaven."
"This pussy is heaven too. Can't believe you want to deny me this." Eddie complains, but still pleases you, two of his fingers curling inside of you as his mouth leaves you for a moment. "I'm going to hell anyway, the least you can do is give me what I want."
If you had your mouth free, you would think of something clever to say — but you couldn't, because his long fingers felt too good against the spot that your toes curl and your eyes blur, and his mouth is back to assaulting your clit with quick flicks of his tongue.
You want to warn that you're close, but you can't, because Steve is pulling your hair and coming in your mouth as you suck him dry, the slurping noises spurring all three of you on. His moans cease as you swallow his spend, and his thumb comes to, almost too tenderly, wipe the rest that spills down your chin.
Your eyes plead to him, and Steve says, "Eds, I think she's close."
"Then cum, sweetheart. You can cum, it's okay. Let me have it."
It feels like you're exploding when he delivers on final, long suck to your sensitive, puffy clit. A silent scream comes from your opened mouth, lips forming a perfect 'o'. Your thighs lay limp on each side of Eddie, and he makes his way up your torso. Steve pulls himself into his pants again, and leans down too. They're each watching you with something strange in their gaze, too soft for the lust that permeates you, the smell of sex strong and vibrant still.
"Can we… can we go back to my place, please?" You plead when you regain your voice. "Anyone can see us here."
"Now, what's the fun in that, little Slayer? Scared that they'll see how much of an obedient slut you are for us?"
"You're the obedient slut, Munson."
His hand goes to your neck and squeezes. "We'll see about that."
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