#(granted it's the performative and useless one)

[snorlaxlovesme]

alright everybody, it's time we talked about Hostage. (buckle up because this is going to be long, but it'll be worth it)

season 2 episode 8 of Link Click was one of the most confounding episodes in the entire season while airing. starting with Lu Guang's insane boat crash/martial arts smackdown rescue of Cheng Xiaoshi and ending with Cheng Xiaoshi diving into a photo to possess Lu Guang to get answers for his actions, from start to finish it was a wild ass ride where we, the fandom, AND the characters spent the whole time questioning Lu Guang and his motives

and...puzzlingly... didn't really get an answers by the end of the season

Lu Guang wasn't granted any post-climax time to explain what happened that day from his perspective, and while Cheng Xiaoshi was possessing him he didn't get any answers because he literally WAS Lu Guang, just doing whatever the hell he thought he needed to do.

the thing about Hostage that has always felt extremely off to me, is that we DO get explanations for Lu Guang's actions during the episode, but they're from people wholly unqualified to be giving them.

Captain Xiao finds Lu Guang's phone, hidden in a folded towel, and concludes that Lu Guang had left them clues. Qiao Ling, after seeing that Lu Guang had taken a photo that night, came to the conclusion that Cheng Xiaoshi must have been the one possessing Lu Guang during his deranged rescue plan at the pier, seeing as Lu Guang wasn't an adept fighter at the dojo and he was acting extremely impulsive. She even goes so far to say, later in the episode, that Cheng Xiaoshi HAS to dive into the photo, because it's already happened, and needs to follow Lu Guang's words to not change the timeline.

all of these assumptions, to me, are horseshit

I refuse to listen to ANYTHING Captain Xiao says. one, because he simply does not know these kids and should not be making assumptions about them, and two he is in fact the worst cop in the world. and Qiao Ling, bless her heart, has only found out how their powers work mere DAYS ago and doesn't understand the nuances of them at all

so I'm gonna debunk all that nonsense and explain to you what Lu Guang's REAL actions were that night, and what was up with that cryptic photo he took

now you might be thinking, Kelly, you're not even starting in the right place, because those weren't Lu Guang's actions, they were always Cheng Xiaoshi's, just in Lu Guang's body!

FALSE. on two counts! we have evidence of Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi performing the act of escaping the hospital differently. Lu Guang does not use the kettle to break the window to distract the cops. we're not sure what he uses, but that kettle is still there.

Lu Guang also places his phone face down in the towel

while Cheng Xiaoshi places it faceup

so by the end of the episode we have literal, physical evidence that these two performed this timeline differently, and therefore it was not "Cheng Xiaoshi the whole time" like Qiao Ling tried to misinform us to believe. i also have another Big Brain post [x] that explains why Lu Guang being an impulsive, supposedly "good" fighter during that pier rescue scene are both in-character for him.

(and if we wanna get really nitpicky about how an injured Lu Guang could have raced across town in his condition, i simply believe that Lu Guang was smarter about it that Cheng Xiaoshi, and probably took a bus or cab. Cheng Xiaoshi, pure of heart and dumb of ass, ran because HE physically could while inhabiting Lu Guang's body. our injured catboy did not sprint across town while holding his organs in place)

so if we already have all this cold, hard evidence stating that Lu Guang really is THAT bitch and did all that shit on his own, what the hell is my problem? why can I not let this episode go?

BECAUSE I WANNA KNOW WHY LU GUANG TOOK THAT PHOTO

Captain Useless seems to think that Lu Guang took that photo as some sort of helpful clue left behind for the gang

but what, pray tell, was this photo supposed to tell us without someone with Lu Guang's powers there to interpret it? without Lu Guang to tell him what to do, Cheng Xiaoshi left to his own devices knows just as much as himself as he does possessing Lu Guang

and, the bigger question, is if this was supposed to be some sort of almighty clue for the gang, why did he not text this photo to either Qiao Ling or Cheng Xiaoshi before escaping the hospital? he took the time to text Qiao Ling the location of the boat, did he not? why not the photo too? seems like a crappy way to clue someone in, to take a photo and save it on your password protected phone that you just went out of your way to hide from plain sight

because that's the thing! after the season finale we discover that Lu Guang's password is literally a reminder of his dive, or even more specifically, a reminder of his trauma. we KNOW that he didn't share his password with Cheng Xiaoshi, he just just happened to figure it out on his own

so tell me how Lu Guang expected this trauma-password protected phone, with it's one singular picture, to get in the hands of Cheng Xiaoshi, hmm? riddle me THAT

so we've established by now that 1. Lu Guang's actions in the beginning of episode 8 were indeed his own and 2. that photo was never meant to be seen by Cheng Xiaoshi, who shouldn't have known Lu Guang's passcode

given the trauma-passcode, we have to believe that the only person ever meant to see this photo was Lu Guang. i've made ANOTHER post previously [x] stating that Lu Guang might have used his powers in a way we haven't known possible, by taking a photo and using his Blue Eyes White Dragon powers to see 12 hours into the immediate future

plausible, but not what i'm about to propose now.

because I think Lu Guang took that photo as a contingency plan

listen, the only person who had ANY credentials to theorize what Lu Guang was up to that night was his trusted partner. while Qiao Ling and Captain Xiao spouted their nonsense theories, Cheng Xiaoshi said the only smart thing that entire brainstorming session

and I think Cheng Xiaoshi was right. he wasn't wrong in assuming this photo was a Save Point of sorts, the only thing he was wrong about was who would be using it

the only other person in this show capable of diving into a photo, we find out during the finale, is Lu Guang

we also find out in the finale that powers are transferrable, and it looks like they transfer when the owner of that power dies in someone else's arms

Lu Guang took that photo that night NOT for Cheng Xiaoshi to find and use, but for LU GUANG himself to use. i believe Lu Guang firmly believed that Cheng Xiaoshi was to die that night, and he would do everything in his power to make sure he had a chance to change it again if he needed to.

that meant:

1.taking a photo on his phone as a Save Point.

2. hiding his phone in the hospital bathroom so it could not be taken from him or busted later in the night. and

3. racing to where he knew Cheng Xiaoshi would be, so he could either

4. a.) rescue him, or b.) ensure that during CXS's death, the diving power was transferred back to him so he could do the night over again.

Lu Guang took that photo as contingency plan to save Cheng Xiaoshi's life should he get killed that night.

but that plan was botched when Cheng Xiaoshi used it instead to possess Lu Guang, because each photo can only be used once.

which might also explain why Lu Guang was SO DISTRAUGHT when Cheng Xiaoshi was shot

they had deleted all their photos earlier that week to prevent the twins from possessing them remotely

that was the last photo Lu Guang had taken. the ONLY photo on his phone. if Cheng Xiaoshi died that night, there would have been no Save Point to return to

#link click #cheng xiaoshi #lu guang #shi guang dai li ren #this is such a long post but i truly do believe i'm onto something here #no i do not know how Lu Guang OR Cheng Xiaoshi hotwired a boat tho #i'll have to believe that's somehow a sidehobby they both share

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The impoverished imagination of neoliberal climate “solutions

This morning (Oct 31) at 10hPT, the Internet Archive is livestreaming my presentation on my recent book, The Internet Con.

There is only one planet in the known universe capable of sustaining human life, and it is rapidly becoming uninhabitable by humans. Clearly, this warrants bold action – but which bold action should we take?

After half a century of denial and disinformation, the business lobby has seemingly found climate religion and has joined the choir, but they have their own unique hymn: this crisis is so dire, they say, that we don't have the luxury of choosing between different ways of addressing the emergency. We have to do "all of the above" – every possible solution must be tried.

In his new book Dark PR, Grant Ennis explains that this "all of the above" strategy doesn't represent a change of heart by big business. Rather, it's part of the denial playbook that's been used to sell tobacco-cancer doubt and climate disinformation:

https://darajapress.com/publication/dark-pr-how-corporate-disinformation-harms-our-health-and-the-environment

The point of "all of the above" isn't muscular, immediate action – rather, it's a delaying tactic that creates space for "solutions" that won't work, but will generate profits. Think of how the tobacco industry used "all of the above" to sell "light" cigarettes, snuff, snus, and vaping – and delay tobacco bans, sin taxes, and business-euthanizing litigation. Today, the same playbook is used to sell EVs as an answer to the destructive legacy of the personal automobile – to the exclusion of mass transit, bikes, and 15-minute cities:

https://thewaroncars.org/2023/10/24/113-dark-pr-with-grant-ennis/

As the tobacco and car examples show, "all of the above" is never really all of the above. Pursuing "light" cigarettes to reduce cancer is incompatible with simply banning tobacco; giving everyone a personal EV is incompatible with remaking our cities for transit, cycling and walking.

When it comes to the climate emergency, "all of the above" means trying "market-based" solutions to the exclusion of directly regulating emissions, despite the poor performance of these "solutions."

The big one here is carbon offsets, which allows companies to make money by promising not to emit carbon that they would otherwise emit. The idea here is that creating a new asset class will unleash the incredible creativity of markets by harnessing the greed of elite sociopaths to the project of decarbonization, rather of the prudence of democratically accountable lawmakers.

Carbon offsets have not worked: they have been plagued by absolutely foreseeable problems that have not lessened, despite repeated attempts to mitigate them.

For starters, carbon offsets are a classic market for lemons. The cheapest way to make a carbon offset is to promise not to emit carbon you were never going to emit anyway, as when fake charities like the Nature Conservancy make millions by promising not to log forests that can't be logged because they are wildlife preserves:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/18/greshams-carbon-law/#papal-indulgences

Then there's the problem of monitoring carbon offsetting activity. Like, what happens when the forest you promise not to log burns down? If you're a carbon trader, the answer is "nothing." That burned-down forest can still be sold as if it were sequestering carbon, rather than venting it to the atmosphere in an out-of-control blaze:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/26/aggregate-demand/#murder-offsets

When you bought a plane ticket and ticked the "offset the carbon on my flight" box and paid an extra $10, I bet you thought that you were contributing to a market that incentivized a reduction in discretionary, socially useless carbon-intensive activity. But without those carbon offsets, SUVs would have all but disappeared from American roads. Carbon offsets for Tesla cars generated billions in carbon offsets for Elon Musk, and allowed SUVs to escape regulations that would otherwise have seen them pulled from the market:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/11/24/no-puedo-pagar-no-pagara/#Rat

What's more, Tesla figured out how to get double the offsets they were entitled to by pretending that they had a working battery-swap technology. This directly translated to even more SUVs on the road:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Criticism_of_Tesla,_Inc.#Misuse_of_government_subsidies

Harnessing the profit motive to the planet's survivability might sound like a good idea, but it assumes that corporations can self-regulate their way to a better climate future. They cannot. Think of how Canada's logging industry was allowed to clearcut old-growth forests and replace them with "pines in lines" – evenly spaced, highly flammable, commercially useful tree-farms that now turn into raging forest fires every year:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/16/murder-offsets/#pulped-and-papered

The idea of "market-based" climate solutions is that certain harmful conduct should be disincentivized through taxes, rather than banned. This makes carbon offsets into a kind of modern Papal indulgence, which let you continue to sin, for a price. As the outstanding short video Murder Offsets so ably demonstrates, this is an inadequate, unserious and immoral response to the urgency of the issue:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/14/for-sale-green-indulgences/#killer-analogy

Offsets and other market-based climate measures aren't "all of the above" – they exclude other measures that have better track-records and lower costs, because those measures cut against the interests of the business lobby. Writing for the Law and Political Economy Project, Yale Law's Douglas Kysar gives some pointed examples:

https://lpeproject.org/blog/climate-change-and-the-neoliberal-imagination/

For example: carbon offsets rely on a notion called "contrafactual carbon," this being the imaginary carbon that might be omitted by a company if it wasn't participating in offsets. The number of credits a company gets is determined by the difference between its contrafactual emissions and its actual emissions.

But the "contrafactual" here comes from a business-as-usual world, one where the only limit on carbon emissions comes from corporate executives' voluntary actions – and not from regulation, direct action, or other limits on corporate conduct.

Kysar asks us to imagine a contrafactual that depends on "carbon upsets," rather than offsets – one where the limits on carbon come from "lawsuits, referenda, protests, boycotts, civil disobedience":

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/cif-green/2010/aug/29/carbon-upsets-offsets-cap-and-trade

If we're really committed to "all of the above" as baseline for calculating offsets, why not imagine a carbon world grounded in foreseeable, evidence-based reality, like the situation in Louisiana, where a planned petrochemical plant was canceled after a lawsuit over its 13.6m tons of annual carbon emissions?

https://earthjustice.org/press/2022/louisiana-court-vacates-air-permits-for-formosas-massive-petrochemical-complex-in-cancer-alley

Rather than a tradeable market in carbon offsets, we could harness the market to reward upsets. If your group wins a lawsuit that prevents 13.6m tons of carbon emissions every year, it will get 13.6 million credits for every year that plant would have run. That would certainly drive the commercial imaginations of many otherwise disinterested parties to find carbon-reduction measures. If we're going to revive dubious medieval practices like indulgences, why not champerty, too?

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Champerty_and_maintenance

That is, if every path to a survivable planet must run through Goldman-Sachs, why not turn their devious minds to figuring out ways to make billions in tradeable credits by suing the pants off oil companies?

There are any number of measures that rise to the flimsy standards of evidence in support of offsets. Like, we're giving away $85/ton in free public money for carbon capture technologies, despite the lack of any credible path to these making a serious dent in the climate situation:

https://www.spglobal.com/commodityinsights/en/market-insights/latest-news/energy-transition/072523-ira-turbocharged-carbon-capture-tax-credit-but-challenges-persist-experts

If we're willing to fund untested longshots like carbon capture, why not measures that have far better track-records? For example, there's a pretty solid correlation between the presence of women in legislatures and on corporate boards and overall reductions in carbon. I'm the last person to suggest that the problems of capitalism can be replaced by replacing half of the old white men who run the world with women, PoCs and queers – but if we're willing to hand billions to ferkakte scheme like carbon capture, why not subsidize companies that pack their boards with women, or provide campaign subsidies to women running for office? It's quite a longshot (putting Liz Truss or Marjorie Taylor-Greene on your board or in your legislature is no way to save the planet), but it's got a better evidentiary basis than carbon capture.

There's also good evidence that correlates inequality with carbon emissions, though the causal relationship is unclear. Maybe inequality lets the wealthy control policy outcomes and tilt them towards permitting high-emission/high-profit activities. Maybe inequality reduces the social cohesion needed to make decarbonization work. Maybe inequality makes it harder for green tech to find customers. Maybe inequality leads to rich people chasing status-enhancing goods (think: private jet rides) that are extremely carbon-intensive.

Whatever the reason, there's a pretty good case that radical wealth redistribution would speed up decarbonization – any "all of the above" strategy should certainly consider this one.

Kysar's written a paper on this, entitled "Ways Not to Think About Climate Change":

https://political-theory.org/resources/Documents/Kysar.Ways%20Not%20to%20Think%20About%20Climate%20Change.pdf

It's been accepted for the upcoming American Society for Political and Legal Philosophy conference on climate change:

https://political-theory.org/13257256

It's quite a bracing read! The next time someone tells you we should hand Elon Musk billions to in exchange for making it possible to legally manufacture vast fleets of SUVs because we need to try "all of the above," send them a copy of this paper.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/31/carbon-upsets/#big-tradeoff

#pluralistic #neoliberalism #climate #market worship #economics #economism #there is no alternative #carbon credits #climate emergency #contrafactual carbon #carbon upsets #apologetics #murder offsets #indulgences

[astrum99]

V2 really had no business going out of its way to fight V1 like that.

So it’s only logical that there must be some kind of motivation beyond “wandering hell”.

Sure, the terminal says V2 is for protection. But why? For who? There are so many ways to define “protection”. Army is protection, war is protection, sacrifice is protection. If it is truly for protection, then why is it based on the model of the killing machine, and not one of defence?

But... its goal can’t possibly be the same as V1 either. Because its goal clearly goes beyond to survive and to obtain blood. Hell was still quite full when we encountered V2. Thus, it can’t be competing for fuel. There is plenty of blood to go around without having to risk its life (or sustaining damage) to challenge V1. Even if it is aiming for resources, it could have just gone ahead and massacred hell before us – that would even starve us of our fuel. Two birds, one stone. But it did not choose to do so.

... Why did it bow during the first fight anyway? Mimicking such a useless, human gesture of goodwill. Does it think it will be closer to humans if it behaved this way? To grant its opponent respect and acknowledgement in a place where nothing matters anymore?

… So, for protection, it is then. Perhaps because it recognizes humanity in the walking, mangled corpses, stitched together by the hands of mankind and hell itself. Perhaps it sees the faces of its creators among the mutilated masses of pulsing flesh. Perhaps it knows that V1 is destruction reincarnate, the end of an end; and V2 is desperately trying to slow down the carnivorous, compulsive consumption of the snake swallowing its tail in vigorous ferocity.

What does it think then? To fail against V1, probably as expected, perhaps as measured.

How does it feel? To be unable to perform the exact thing you were designed to do. To watch humanity succeed so splendidly at executing its own extinction once again (first on earth, now in hell).

To see V1 kill when V2 is built to love.

Same structure, same form, same blood.

Does it see despair in the beauty and brutality of V1's perfect design?

#az thoughts #ultrakill #v2 ultrakill #hmmmm #im cooking let me cook <- loosing my mind

[klonnieshippersclub]

Besides obvious racial problems in directing🙄 why do you think Bonnie wasn’t invited to the Mikaelson Ball? I mean I personally think she would’ve ate everyone up AND be a ‘big help’ to Esther

There's no other reason besides racism. Despite Esther being Ayana's friend, Esther sees the Bennetts as the help. That's why she doesn't hesitate with expecting the Bennetts to provide assistance. Instead, she declares she has a plan that depends on their magic to Elena. Why wouldn’t she ask the Bennetts for their aid directly instead of introducing herself afterwards? Esther claims to respect the Bennetts partially because of Ayana's friendship. You never see what Esther does for Ayana but it's clear what Ayana does for her. She taught Esther magic but Esther is the one referred to as the "Original Witch." Ayana was the one who took care of Esther's body which allowed her to return. Esther does nothing but use the Bennetts which is very similar to Bonnie's own friends. The Bennetts are taken for granted and taken advantage of. Here's Ian talking about Bonnie saving the day all the time with Joseph gushing over Kat and Sebastian casually referring to Kat's ass being fat (she's his Beyoncè):

Bonnie constantly kicks ass and she isn't shown any gratitude. Elena even credits Elijah for her surviving the sacrifice. Bonnie was the one who performed the spell. John Gilbert gave his life for her. Stefan credits himself and Damon for keeping Elena alive. Why? What did they contribute? At least, Elijah shared knowledge. However, that knowledge would be useless without someone willing to die and a witch to perform the spell. Elena crediting Elijah puts Bonnie in danger and causes Damon to turn Abby. Where is the respect for Bonnie and her family? In a similar fashion, it is Bonnie who saves Klaus thus saving everyone and including him. Does anyone thank her? No one, not her friends, not the Mikaelson, not a soul thanks her for it. She's disrespected in all ways.

TVD does more work to exclude and sideline Bonnie when it would be easier to allow her in things because she’s connected to everything. Bonnie and the Bennetts are the backbone of TVD. It doesn't even make sense for the MFG to want to go without Bonnie. If they didn't trust the Mikaelsons to keep peace, why leave behind their most powerful ally? What is Matt doing there when he's just as useless as other civilians? What would the Salvatores, Caroline, and Elena do if one of the Mikaelsons went rogue by turning the ball into a bloodbath? Bonnie's power is only acknowledged by her friends when they feel the need to use her.

#bonnie bennett #the vampire diaries #rikkisinbox #tvd #anon ask

[icespur]

DadGoro Navigator Quotes Help

originally I had a concept I was going to post about "Teen Akeshu Daughter from the future gets sent to the past during P5R", but I got preoccupied.

She tries to play matchmaker to get Akiren and Akechi on the right path. But she also can't risk revealing who she is so to Akechi and Akiren she's a random teen around Futaba and Sumire's age that sorta resembles themselves for some reason, and must be a specially unhinged Akechi fangirl that hardcore ships Akechi with the Phantom Thief Leader for some reason, because wow is this girl not subtle at all in her attempts to pair them up.

So when she joins the group in their Metaverse adventures and fights alongside them, and Akechi takes role of Navigator, he especially makes his irritation of her known and just how much he doesn't give a shit what happens to her in battle.

("Akagi" is her "undercover" surname)

“Akagi-san’s health is down. Heal her I guess~” 

“What a tragedy, Akagi-san has perished.” 

“Oh, Akagi-san is fully healed and ready to continue to grace us with her presence~”

“Akagi-san has been incapacitated. Can't say I'm surprised.” 

But once he finds out she's his future daughter—-

Granted,the fact that he’s destined to eventually have intercourse that leads to knocking up his rival is—-alot to take in—-. but this is his daughter. His future flesh and blood, he—oh he feels like such a piece of shit 🤦. Curse his trust issues and natural skepticism, he was a fucking dick, how is he going to fix this? 

The “Daughter Reveal” makes him take a 180 in his behavior towards her. Something just clicks and “Fuck this annoying suspicious little shit.” Turns into “I've only known Komari for a couple of months, but if anything were to happen to her, I would kill everyone in this room and then myself.” With zero warning. 

and this shows especially in battle.

"Oh, what an absolute tragedy, Akagi-San has died, tip your masks in respect everyone. She will be sorely missed, if only we had a revival on hand~"

To:

!

"MY BABY!

JOKER, GET THE REVIVAL ITEM, HEAL HER, HURRY HURRY, GET IT OUT FASTER, OUR PRINCESS IS FADING, ARE YOU THIS USELESS WHEN YOUR OTHER TEAMMATES ARE IN NEED OF HEALING?!

when infected with ailment, Akechi and Joker immediately tag team her with the feather fans to bitch slap the ailment away.

Akechi or Joker always perform a followup attack when she's having her turn in battle.

After a successful battle and if her Persona levels up and gains a new ability, the group comments would mostly be Akechi's "proud dad" attitude shining through, and drawing attention and demanding the rest of the group pay attention and praise his badass little princess, or he himself rambling and boasting about her new power before catching himself and covering it with a more subdued complement.

Then, a friend mentioned dialogue for other battle actions like Baton Pass and Ailments that I didn't even think of!

So I'm going to have you fellow Akeshu fans participate because I'm having trouble coming up with more Proud Dad Akechi dialogue.

Write some dialogue reactions for Akechi if his and Akiren's daughter was a playable party member.

(you don't have to fill out all these sections. Just, if you come up with a line for one of the below actions, reply or reblog with it and once I get enough participants I'll make another post.

Akechi/Crow: passes Baton to Komari: 

Crow/Black Mask response to Komari Attack Quotes:

Komari Dodges Attack: 

Komari Downs an enemy: 

Double Enemy Down: 

Down all enemies: 

Defeats an enemy: 

Defeats two enemies:

Defeats last Enemy:

Attack miss or Skill miss:

HP at 25% at start of turn:

Affected by Tarunda/Attack Decrease:

Affected by Rakunda/Defense Decrease:

Affected by Sukunda/Speed Decrease: 

Suffering from Shock:

Suffering from Freeze:

Suffering from Brainwash:

Suffering from Despair:

Suffering from Forget:

Suffering from Confuse:

Suffering from Rage:

Downed:

Recovers from being downed:

Incapacitated:

#persona 5 royal #persona 5 #akiren #ren amamiya #akira kusuru #persona 5 joker #goro akechi #persona 5 crow #persona 5 third semester #akeshu parents #akeshu child #akeshu #shuake #ren x akechi #audience participation #dialogue ideas #family fluff #proud parent #proud papa #overprotective #dad mode activated #need ideas #need assistance

[sgiandubh]

'We few, we happy few, we band of brothers'

It is one thing to disprove and even despise The Shire and its netizens. It is a whole other affair to violently bash S's skills, based on absolutely nothing else than spiteful disappointment.

We are being told by Mordor's basement polymaths the man cannot act. It is probably by an unelucidated strike of luck or by charity that he was cast by *** to embody book boyfriend JAMMF, when he has only 5 (five) known facial expressions in his quiver. He was the weakest link of Season 1 cast: I suppose the BJ/Frank Randall 2-in-1 does have a fan club, after all. His acting is wooden. He has chemistry only with C and by Her grace only, because you know, gay as a bag of popcorn. He is a semi-literate hunk, with documented spelling problems. Even more so, when we conveniently toss aside the mounting hysteria during Quarantein Ha-wa-wee disgrace (hey Pooks and all the sock account Dobermans: I hope you remember your Twitter blaze of glory moment every single morning while brushing your teeth). And (also a favorite) he doesn't read, he doesn't prepare, he is sloppy, like that.

God forbid you'd try to set this colossal unfairness straight. You are automatically signed up to the Mommies for Sam Committee and labeled accordingly. Brainless victim (of what, since he is basically useless, but let's not embarrass ourselves with logic), unapologetic limerent inamorata, romantic whale, delusional rural shipper, conspiracy theory troll. Anything goes, really and we know the tune by heart, at this point in time.

Not so long ago, I was re-watching the oath sequence of (5.01) The Fiery Cross, for which I suppose all background/context is superfluous. The only clip I could find has appalling sound, but should still immediately take you back to the Return of the Kilt (starts at 0:56):

It immediately reminded me of this:

This is the extraordinary Henry V Saint Crispin's Day speech. Pure Shakespeare and unmatchable Olivier. It is also a well-documented kamikaze moment of the Battle of Agincourt (1415), when a heavily outnumbered English army defeated in an almost miraculous turn of events the French. Granted, the real speech must have been way more concise, but nevertheless a potent affair, with Henry's cunning use of rumors having it that the French would cut two fingers off each captured archer's right hand, to virtually neutralize them. And his army was, essentially, an army of longbows.

Whatever it was, it worked. It worked so well, that it even gave Winston Churchill the idea of asking Laurence Olivier to broadcast this speech for the BBC some time around 1942 and then make a movie of the whole play, in 1944. Again, context is important -it always is, by the way - and it sheds the right light on Olivier's performance. More than acting, it is damn effective war propaganda, a wonderful patriotic act and completely representative for the "we shall fight them on the beaches and we shall never surrender" spirit. It is also all about acting as summoning of energy: Olivier manages to channel Henry V, he is Henry V and this immediately gives an irresistible depth and truth to his performance.

For contrast, one could compare his version with Branagh's 1989 interpretation (https://youtu.be/y1BhnepZnoo), which I am not adding here for the sake of levity. The main difference is, for me at least, palpable: Olivier completely suppressed his ego, which I am afraid is something impossible to achieve for Branagh. His take on the speech aims to be more modern and natural, and yet it is still all about Branagh promoting his art. And we know it immediately. A fairly honest tableau vivant, but no depth and nowhere near as majestic as the other.

I am not saying here that S is on par with Laurence Olivier. That would really mean being a romantic whale and I am the one you start to get, I hope, acquainted with. What I am saying is that this guy you just love to humiliate and endlessly cackle about every single day God makes, really, deliberately knows what he is doing in there. I would bet handsome money on S carefully watching and re-watching Olivier's Saint Crispin's Day monologue, in order to prepare for that particular scene. The similarities are, to me, evident, as is the consistent hard work and - dare I say it?- massive talent. It's all about owning the scene and being in the moment. And it is arresting, at times.

All of this is not exactly some shipper far-fetched speculation. S wrote, after all, in Waypoints (and the reference is way too spot on to believe in a kind gesture of the ghostwriter) that he "devoured"

I see great things. I see a very gifted guy who has no ego (C was spot on and for an actor, that is a blessing) and also probably no idea of his (considerable) acting range. I also see a guy who, spare for OL, has been grossly, unfairly miscast and overlooked. And who was determined to take whatever was available or easy on the schedule, in order to remain relevant. I may not be a good client for his booze, but I would pay handsomely to see him in something along the lines of For Whom The Bell Tolls. Or even (if you want a more exotic but oh, so rewarding alternative) a still inexplicably missing Western adaptation of Bulgakov's Master and Margarita (probably not the best times for that one, but still: Bulgakov was, after all, born in Kyiv and not really a fan, to say the least, of tyrants). That's exactly how damn good he is.

How was it, Kidneystone BIF? Oh. "No boundaries. No respect. No class." Exactly, madam. You said it yourself.

#Youtube

[wheels-of-despair]

Enough | A Make Up Story | Tom Grant x You | Series Masterlist

Epilogue: Are You Fucking Kidding Me? Words: 2k

WINTER

Just as you feared, your life had been waiting for you back home.

It had taken five awful hours of driving to get there. You'd collapsed on your bed as soon as you walked in, still in your clothes that smelled slightly of him, and stayed there until morning.

The temp you'd trained had proven to be useless, and your work had piled up during your week away. It took you a month to get caught up again. You'd never exactly been fond of your job, but after your week with Tom, it had reached a new level of joylessness.

You sent out several resumes, but never heard back from anyone. So you kept plodding along, performing tasks you disliked and taking orders from people you hated. What else could you do?

You went on a few dates, each one worse than the last. You accepted invitations to events with people you barely tolerated, hoping it might spark something inside of you. Maybe you'd find something you enjoyed. Maybe you'd find someone you liked. Maybe you'd stop going home and thinking about things that weren't meant to be.

One night, several drinks deep on a dance floor so crowded it felt like you were fighting the bodies around you for air, you realized… here, in this crowded room, surrounded by people, was the loneliest you'd ever been in your entire life. You froze. The excessively loud music became a dull roar, bodies knocked into you, and all you could do was stand there feeling like a shell of a person.

You're not neon lights and wild adventures and meaningless hookups with people who won't bother to learn your name. You're talking 'til sunrise and listening to the rain and goofing on crappy movies.

You don't belong here.

You battled your way to the exit and walked home, head ducked so no one could see the tears streaming down your face.

You spent your nights watching stupid movies alone in bed after that. Why force yourself to do things that only made you feel worse?

Your mind always drifted to a curly-haired beauty in Cornwall. What would Tom think of this movie? Or the state you're in? What was he doing? Had he found someone who deserves him? Was he still angry with you for leaving? Did he understand that it was for his own good?

You thought of Jade, too. Did Ruth take care of her? Were they still together? Would she show up on your doorstep in a few months like nothing ever happened? Would you drop everything for her if she did?

Thinking of them was painful, but it was better than feeling nothing.

One cold and drizzly day that winter, after a long and dull day at the office, you were looking down and fumbling for your keys in front of your building when you ran into something solid.

You jumped back, realizing it was a person.

"I'm so sorry, I wasn't…" You looked up and froze.

"At least it wasn't a car this time, I suppose."

Tom.

"Is this an 'I missed you' stare, or an 'oh God I thought I got rid of him' stare?"

"First one," you croaked, not quite believing your eyes.

Tom opened his arms, and you stepped into them instinctively. You didn't think you'd ever get to feel this embrace again.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, trying not to melt into his chest.

"Kind of a long story."

"Will you come inside and tell me?"

"Mhm," he hums, not moving.

"C'mon," you whisper, wondering if this was a dream. He felt real enough. You reluctantly pull away and lead him inside by the hand, fighting the urge to glance back every few steps to make sure he's still there. But he's right there with you when you unlock your door.

You shed your jackets and retreat to your bedroom, not knowing when your flatmate would come home and ruin everything. You sat on the bed while Tom wandered around, looking at the pictures cluttering your walls. You wonder if he'd notice the Cornish sunset that looked suspiciously like the one you'd seen on your last night together. You'd found it on Google and printed it at work in a particularly intense moment of weakness.

"How've you been?" you ask.

"Miserable, and you?"

You laugh. "Same, actually."

Tom focuses on your bookshelf. "Seeing anyone?"

"Ha," you chuckle dryly. "No. You?"

"No. Found someone great a while back, but she ran away from me."

You feel your heart sink as he sits next to you on the bed.

"Jade came to see me."

"Yeah?" This should be interesting.

"Yeah. She's sold her gran's van. She and Ruth are going to go see the world."

"Really? Where are they going?"

Tom shrugs. "Said they were going to pack their bags, go to the airport, and get on the first cheap flight to somewhere hot."

"Sounds like Jade."

"Sounds like a fucking nightmare."

"I know!" You laugh incredulously. "Where are they going to stay? What if no one speaks English? What if they get lost? What if they run out of money?"

"My thoughts exactly," Tom grins. "Said they'd figure it out as they go."

You thought about it for a moment. "Can't decide if that's brilliant, or insane."

"Insane, definitely." His smile fades. "We talked about you, too."

You drop your gaze and begin tracing the pattern on your blanket. You don't know what Jade told him, but it stings like a betrayal.

"What are you doing here, Tom?" You pick at a loose thread, unable to meet his eye.

"I'm here for work, actually," he says, getting up to inspect the knick-knacks on your desk. You're suddenly self-conscious about the seashells from the day you watched him scramble his brains in the sea. You'd forgotten all about them until you finally made yourself unpack, finding them scattered in the bottom of your bag. You spent nearly an hour sobbing over them that day. They were the only pieces of Tom you had.

"Oh yeah?" Of course he's not here for you. "Shirley expanding her empire?"

"I wouldn't know. She fired me."

"What?!" Your jaw drops in surprise.

"Yeah, about a week after you left. Not exactly a great time for ol' Tom Grant." He picks up a shell and runs his thumb across the smooth surface. You wonder if he knows where it's from.

"Tom, I'm so sorry. I know you loved it there."

"A blessing in disguise, really. You did me a favor."

"I did?"

"Yup." He puts down the shell and picks up another. "You left, I moped… then I beat the shit out of Kai. Fucker's really gotta stop running his mouth. Anyway, that was my third strike, so she sent me packing. But they broke ground on a new caravan park a few minutes up the coast last autumn, so I dropped by to see if they needed any help. Talk about perfect timing. Their handy-man had just gotten a better offer and bailed. Owner hired me on the spot. I'm head of maintenance."

"Tom, that's amazing!" He puffs out his chest and grins.

"It comes with a lot of perks, too." He puts the shell back and leans against your desk, crossing his arms and waiting for you to ask.

"What kind of perks?"

"I've got my own truck. Get paid more than double what Shirley was giving me. Got my own caravan. Brand new, too, but it has a few flaws." He pauses.

"Such as?" you prompt.

"It's twice the size of my old one. Got a bloody bathtub in it. And the bed? Way too big for one person."

Is this going where you think it is?

"Anyway, I'm here on a recruiting mission. We got the big stuff set up, but we're opening in the spring. Gonna need a full staff. Lots of openings to fill, in everything from housekeeping to the office. So if you know anyone dependable who's willing to relocate for a job… and maybe a handsome lad who makes great pancakes…"

You shake your head, trying to make your brain process everything he's just said to you. He grins in a way that does not help you get your thoughts in order.

"Jade said to always tell you what I want and how I feel, so here it is," he says, dropping back onto the bed next to you. "I want to give this a shot. I want you to come back to Cornwall with me, and I want you to stay. I want you to be the first thing I see when I wake up, and the last thing I see before I go to sleep. I want you. Because I love you."

You stare at him in disbelief, head spinning, tears threatening to spill.

Tom suddenly looks nervous. "I mean, if that's what you want too…?"

Of course it's what you want. You've never wanted anything more in your entire life. Not even her.

"Are you sure?" You have to ask.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

You tears spill as you rush at each other, desperately needing to make up for several months of lost kisses.

"I'm guessing that was a yes?" he asks when you break for air. His curls are out of control, thanks to your roaming hands, and most of your clothes have somehow disappeared. A devilish smirk decorates his face. He's the most beautiful person you've ever known.

You nod, unable to find your words.

"You don't have to work there, by the way. But I think you'd like it. Owner's rich and clueless, but he's a good guy. You and me could fucking run this place. Make it better than Shirley's ever was. Teamwork, love."

You take a moment to imagine what your life might be like, living with Tom and working in a place you actually liked. A place that Tom helped build, even. You imagine welcoming guests and watching sunsets and cooking together and playing in the sea and putting up a Christmas tree and trying out that bathtub… and maybe squeezing into a rental shower every once in a while for old time's sake.

"This is what you want, right?" he asks nervously.

Tom has mistaken your fantasies for hesitation. You smile and cup his face. You've had so much time to think about what you want… and this is better than anything you could have possibly imagined. But at the center of every fantasy lies one little thing.

"You said something to me one night…" you begin quietly, as if it might shatter the illusion. "I think it was the night we had dinner at April's. But you said 'if you love a person, they should be enough.'"

Tom nods his head in your hands.

"That's what I want, Tom. I want to be enough." You hold your breath.

"You are," he whispers, eyes wide and genuine. And you believe him. You really do.

"So are you," you whisper back. "You're everything to me."

"C'mere," he smiles, reaching out and pulling you to him before you can start crying again. You lift your head and meet his lips in a sweet kiss that soon turns needy and desperate. You do have a lot of lost time to make up for, after all.

An hour later, you lie on your backs in your twisted sheets, staring up at your ceiling and trying to catch your breath.

"Was that my sign-on bonus?" you joke.

"Don't tell anyone else, or they'll all expect it."

You laugh together and reach for his hand.

"We really doing this? You and me?" you ask.

"Absolutely," he says.

"Guess I get to live out my job-quitting fantasy tomorrow," you grin. "How long do you think it'll take us to pack?"

"As a team? With our motivation? Sunrise."

You laugh, feeling happy and whole again for the first time in months. You get to quit your job tomorrow and come home with boxes so you can start packing. You get to leave this place and all the people in it behind, and start a new life with someone you love. Someone who loves you back. Someone who wants to keep you.

"I love you."

His words make your heart soar, and you have no doubt that he means them. He means them as much as you do.

"I love you too, Tom."

#writings of despair #tom grant is enough #tom grant #tom grant x you #tom grant x reader #am i forgiven now??

[drunkonaheistinspace]

three almost kisses and the one time nothing could interrupt

originally published: December 3rd, 2023

Pairing: Illinois x gn!Reader

Rating: General Audience

Tags: fluff, friendship, first kiss, slight angst

1

When Illinois proudly announced that the two of you would be attending an auction again, flashbacks from last time hit you like a tsunami. Luckily for you, you were informed of his plans two weeks in advance and not hours in advance like last time, giving you plenty of time to prepare.

The first thing you did was insist that you wear your outfit from last time and he didn't have to buy you a new one. You accidentally found out how much he paid for it, which nearly gave you a heart attack. The only reason you still had it was Illinois's argument that it was a birthday present and you didn't want to be rude. And yes, you even kept the overpriced ring that could possibly be an ancient relic. The second was to find out more information about the auction. This time it was about a deceased collector whose collection is being liquidated so that the family can pay off the mountain of debt that the deceased had left them. It looks like you might even find it this time as the deceased specialized in ancient artifacts and judging by the thumbnails were the kind of artifacts you're after.

The sight of Illinois in a suit was something you could never get used to. It was just wrong. But it gave you the opportunity to tie his bow tie, which in turn gave you an excuse to get close to him. "Let's go over the rules again," you said as you straightened the bow tie. "Why are we going to the auction?" Illinois sighed. "To find potential pieces for my collection." "What don't we do?" "Do not purchase artifacts of unknown and/or questionable origin." "And?" "And don't give my partner any gifts that cost me more than fifty dollars." The fifty dollars was still a compromise. You wanted to go lower than ten bucks, after all he was still your boss and after all he was obligated to pay you and he paid you well above average, which is why you didn't see the point of expensive gifts. But he insisted that there should be at least fifty. He referred to this as a bonus for excellent work performance.

A look out of the window told you that the limousine had already arrived and was now waiting for you. You went to grab your coat, but Illinois grabbed your arm. You looked at him in surprise. “After the auction...would you like to go out for dinner afterward? It doesn't have to be expensive! We can also just make a detour to McDonald's and get something there.” A gentle smile graced your face. Illinois was always so cute when he was shy. This was a side of him that only you got to see. "I'd love to have dinner with you." You stood in absolute silence for a moment, looking at each other before Illinois slowly walked towards you and leaned towards you. You closed your eyes in anticipation but your lips didn't touch. Instead, you were startled by loud impatient horns. "The limo is waiting," you said, heart racing, and grabbed your coat. "Yeah, we should go now," he agreed, running his fingers through his hair.

In the end, the auction was canceled because two idiots broke in and took a large part of the collection. Instead, you spent the night in the parking lot behind a McDonald's watching the stars while sharing a helping of chicken nuggets.

2

You had asked Illinois for a single day at the beach several times in the past. Just to relax. Well, your wish has finally been granted after a long time, but unfortunately not in the way you would like. Yes, you just found yourself on a beach at sunset, but instead of sipping colorful cocktails and enjoying the view, you were stuck on a deserted island in the middle of nowhere with a treasure map that made no sense.

"I give up! The map is useless!" you called to your boss who had climbed up one of the palm trees hoping to get a better view of the island. You, on the other hand, had the map in your hand and tried to make sense of the scribble. "I'm afraid I have to agree with you there," Illinois admitted while clambering down the palm tree. "I'm not even sure if we're on the right island anymore." You sit down on the sand and bury your face in your hands. The adventurer sat next to you and fanned the cool air with his hat. "At least we can enjoy the sunset." With a sigh, you looked up and you had to admit that the sunset here was particularly beautiful. At least there was a nice moment you could share with Illinois. "We should take a vacation and just go somewhere that isn't dangerous," you murmur as you rest your head on his shoulder. Illinois said nothing and just silently took your hand and gently squeezed it.

You just sat there and watched the sunset without saying a word. You couldn't remember who turned around first, but suddenly you were looking at each other and your faces got closer and closer. Your lips were only a few millimeters from touching. You were just a head movement away from what you both longed for. At the same time, a cannonball hit the water just meters in front of you, drenching you both in seawater. You looked up in surprise and saw a ship on the horizon.

"Please tell me that's not who I think it is," you moaned in annoyance and frustration. "Captain Magnum," Illinois confirmed. "Maybe we should flee inland before he actually hits us." As if on cue, you saw another cannonball being fired and you ran into the dense jungle hoping to escape the pirate.

3

You ran through the dark maze-like corridors. You've been running for quite a while and you're not exactly sure where you are right now. Everything looks the same and the fear that you've been going in circles the whole time overcomes you. The worst thing about the whole thing, however, was the fact that you didn't even know who you were running from or where exactly you were going. The day started out so harmless.

It was a beautiful summer day and you and Illinois were “on vacation” so to speak. Maybe vacation wasn't the right word. It was much more of a break between adventures because your plane broke down and your flight was delayed by two days. You were in no hurry and instead chose to take this as a sign that you really needed some time off. This included sitting in cute little cafes, drinking coffee and talking about possible new goals. Buy new work boots. Arguing with Illi about why you don't need a 200 euro jacket. In the end you decided to visit an art exhibition.

The exhibition included several different pieces by well-known local artists. You didn't know any of them, but that didn't stop you from marveling at the countless works. Illinois seemed to feel the same way because he would stand in front of a work for a long time complementing both the composition and the technique and all you could do was listen in silence and marvel at how much this man knew about art.

Then it happened. Illinois was laughing. Everything was good. Everything was wonderful. Then he noticed something in the distance. His laughter stopped. His smile vanished. He looked like he had seen a demon. Then everything happened quickly. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards the exit, but something forced him to change direction and you ran deeper into the gallery. You couldn't see who or what was doing this to Illinois, but you were sure of one thing. You've never seen him so scared. Eventually he drags you through a door with a staircase leading down. Once you got to the bottom you saw two hallways and Illinois turned to you with a worried look.

"Listen to me. We have to split up! He's most likely after me and I doubt he'll hurt you as long as you stay away from me!" "But-" you tried to protest, but he placed a finger on your lips, silencing you. "No buts! For once, I want you to listen to me and do what I tell you. This is solely for your good.” He removed his finger and instead took your face in his hands. “We will find each other again. I promise it." You wanted to protest again, but the look in his eyes tells you that he won't accept any complaints. You took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay. I trust you." He gave you one final affirmative smile before you walked in different directions.

And so you found yourself in the endless dark labyrinth that sucked every hope out of you with every passing second. Your legs hurt from running and you were exhausted, but you couldn't afford a break. Not unless you knew where the adventurer was. Every step you took felt like you were pulling a heavy load behind you, and a tightness that settled in your chest heralded the onset of a panic attack. It was difficult for you to see in the dimly lit hallways and you felt like it was getting darker with every step. How much time has passed since you broke up?

You turned a corner and instead of finding another endless corridor ahead of you, you ran into what you initially thought was a wall. Only the wall was warm, muscular and difficult to breathe. Two strong hands rested on your shoulders, providing the necessary support that kept you from collapsing like a cheap folding chair on a hot summer afternoon. "Thank God! You're fine!" did you hear the living Adonis statue say You were too exhausted to say anything. Instead, the hands moved away from your shoulders and you were pulled into a tight hug. "I know I have some explaining to do, and I'll do it once we get out of here," Illinois still held you tight, afraid someone would pull you away from him. “I promise you that we will then be a month – no, two months! oh you know what Let's take the rest of the year off and just relax!" The support that the adventurer gave you finally let you relax and catch your breath. Over time, your mind became clearer and the hallway you are in became brighter. You take a deep breath. The familiar smell of leather and linen gave you another piece of security. Your limbs were heavy as lead, but you somehow managed to raise your arm and squeeze Illinois' biceps, after which he released you.

You didn't realize your vision was blurry until you tried to look the adventurer in the face. You feel his warm hands on your cheeks and a light pressure on your forehead. You blink a few times and as your vision cleared you noticed his forehead was pressed against yours. His eyes were closed, his sun-tanned skin was glistening with sweat, and you could smell the faint whiff of coffee on his breath. "I promise nothing will happen to you," he whispered more to himself than to you. “You survived until now. You survived longer than anyone else." He opened his eyes. "You mean too much to me to let him take you away." You stared into each other's eyes for a long time. The corridor was long forgotten. All your senses were taken over by him. The warmth radiating from him. The smell of him clouding your mind like a potent drug. His breath on your face. His eyes that looked straight into your soul. It was like a spell that you couldn't break.

Slowly he closed his eyes again and tilted his head. His lips were only a few millimeters from yours. You inhale his breath and close your eyes. This was the moment. But before you could lean forward and fully surrender to the spell, a door next to you was violently thrown open. You both jumped aside in shock and panic. Was the door here all along? "There you are!" exclaimed Wilford. You both looked at him in horror, but neither of you was able to say or do anything. “You two are extremely late for your interview! Well, come on in!" Wilford grabbed you both by the wrist and yanked you through the door.

You didn't talk about what happened in the corridor. Neither of you could.

+1

It's mid-August. The sky was painted yellow and pink from the setting sun. Illinois kept his promise. Since the Gallery incident, you've stayed away from adventures and settled in a small town. He gave you you room to breath by giving you a small house on the outskirts of town. Under normal circumstances you would insist on getting an apartment, but since the incident you just needed some alone time. Time to think. Time to understand your own feelings. His house wasn't far. A few minutes walk. He gave you a key. You were welcome at any time. And yet you haven't seen each other in two months.

Those two months were the first time you could really think. Overthink. Losing yourself in your own mind. You realized three things: 1. The carpet in your living room was exceptionally soft and perfect for staring at the ceiling for hours. 2. You miss the smell of leather and canvas. 3. Illinois' entire existence was like a siren song and you struggled every day to resist it.

You only now realized that you had been under his spell since the first time you met and every time you tried to leave, you somehow found a way back to him. You had lost your heart and it was now part of his collection. The only thing that stopped him from possessing both your body and your soul was a single kiss.

One kiss and there will be no turning back.

A kiss to seal the deal.

A kiss to become his holy grail.

Every time you opened your front door and looked out, you could see his house. So far and yet so close. There was nothing standing in your way except your own pride and sanity. But today you were weak.

You didn't bother putting on shoes. You looked up at the sky and noticed that the colorful play of colors from before was replaced by dark rain clouds. You felt the first drops on your face and closed your eyes. It didn't take long for the light drizzle to turn into a storm. The rain soaked your clothes and your hair was wet and stuck to your face. This was the perfect weather.

Your legs moved of their own accord, carrying you down the street until you stood in front of his house. Lightning and thunder joined the rain and the wind became more ruthless. But you didn't care. Three steps and you were standing at his door. You take three deep breaths. You knock on the door three times.

You heard the footsteps behind the door. Your heart was racing and you felt the adrenaline rushing through your veins. You heard the door unlock and you held your breath. The door swung open and you took the first step. Illinois didn't have time to react as your arms wrapped around his neck and cold lips pressed against his. He stumbled backwards until his back was pressed against a wall. Only when he realized it was you kissing him did he allow himself to close his eyes and return the kiss. Only when he wrapped his arms around you and felt how wet your clothes were did he force himself to break the kiss. He grabbed your shoulders and pushed you away. You were surprised at his sudden abruptness, but the sight that greeted you made every bit of anger in you fade away. His otherwise perfect hair hung over his face, his cheeks red, his lips swollen and his eyes dark. You wanted to lunge at him once more and steal another kiss, but his grip was iron, keeping you at arm's length.

“What happened?” he asked, struggling to keep you at a safe distance. “Why are you wet?” “I couldn’t take it anymore,” you replied while breathing heavily. "I need to see you, feel you, you..." “And that’s why you walked through the rain?” He looked you up and down again. “And that barefoot?!” You rolled your eyes. “How dare I walk barefoot in the rain! This is worse than the time I had to jump off a cliff into the sea! Or the time I had to fight a mutant killer bunny!” Now it was Illinois who rolled his eyes.

You felt his grip on your shoulders loosen and you took the opportunity to approach him again. He didn't do anything to stop you and so you wrapped your arms around him again and hid your face in his neck. Strong arms wrapped around your wet form, pushing you closer to him. “I want to be more than your partner,” you whisper into his skin. In response, he kissed you on the temple. “Were you thinking about a spring wedding or would you prefer fall?” You gave him a light kick to the leg. “Not so fast, my dear! We haven’t seen each other for two months and we have to make up for that time first.” “Whatever you want, treasure!”

#ghost writing #illinois x reader #in space with markiplier #a heist with markiplier #ahwm illinois #iswm illinois #fanfiction

[loser-female]

A couple of notes on resumes, employment, job interviews from an actual employed person

(true in Western Europe, IT related)

I might be unpopular but DO NOT LIE on the things you know. Especially if you are doing a particular job like mine, you will look like an idiot and lose a potential job you could have gotten if you were honest.

But! Send the resumes even if you miss some of the requirements. I send mine at 70%. It works. This is how I got my actual job. This is why lying is useless - you don't need to. Just stick to what you know, show interest in learning something new and it will go your way.

(True for IT might be for other professions) a lot of the times you're not being judged for the things you know but how you reach to the knowledge and how you climb the mirror when answering a question. "I don't know but I would do this" is what they want to hear (granted that the reasoning behind is correct).

I got my job after the worst interview I've ever done - I even ended up crying afterwards. But while I answered wrong I showed that I use my brain when in trouble. This is what my manager wanted to see.

Only include hobbies if you can use the skills on the job, otherwise you're just wasting space. I like reading (=analysis), I like writing (=I can bullshit my way in a report), I play soccer in my free time (I'm a team worker).

While you might not be in search of besties, really make some effort to be civil and cordial to the people around you. Even if they are annoying, but shutting everyone off as I keep seeing as an advice how to be a "girlboss" is not it. (I said annoying, if there is bullying, discrimination and a terrible environment that's another thing)

In Psychology of Intelligence Analysis, the author noted that the creative being put in a bad environment performs less and worse than the least innovative person in a good environment. Furthermore, he also explains that if you stay in a job because you think you can change the environment you will be proven wrong. Do what you want with this information.

Show some personality. I've been told multiple times that people remember me after I meet them because I'm myself. I'm not pretending to be someone else, even though I'm not the most likeable person (I'm a GNC nerd and I have a strong personality and I have no problem in showing it). Guess who gets called at the end of the day.

You should practice how to answer basic and difficult questions. You should.

Also HR is not your friend, as in, they're not being paid to listen to your personal problems. They don't care and it only shows you have no boundaries in the workplace (which would be true and you should work on keeping your mouth shut). With personal problems I mean disclosing diagnosis (unless you're legally disabled or you're being asked due to some affirmative action law), sources of stress, low income (like,this will just mean you will be underpaid)... Same with demands.

Also there are some things your employer should not be asking for privacy reasons. This is different for every country and you should check it out. If someone asks you if you are planning to be pregnant you will be discriminated against.

That's what I can remember lol. Yes, I've had to deal with people advising to tell their employers about their ADHD and autism - in my country this is just asking to be discriminated against, but I've been told that in other places this would be the right thing to do because they are considered legally disabilities (what's legally considered a disability varies by country) and there is some affirmative actions going on.

On the specifics on how to make something out of your interest in IT I'm writing another post. That being said, take everything with a grain of salt. I'm only one person living probably in a different place than you do.

#ada.txt

[liauditore]

LIAU MY BELOVED

ask game question

Jimmy x Martyn

:D

romeo asking for mirror birds in MY ask box?!!?!??!?!?! (i know u pref mirror birds but solidwood is too funny im so sorry)

ah yeah. these losers.

see, a lot of my thoughts surrounding these two would kind of spoil my own AU that i never make stuff for so im usually somewhat hesitant to talk about them but basically., (toxic!fh mention)

post-evo divorced property police is so real. ive always imagined it as a childhood friends situation, with martyn being a bit older than jimmy.

they probably caught feelings for eachother fairly late and already well into teenhood but neither of them were really sure what it was (this is maybe going a little bit into sexuality hc territory but ive always imagined jimmy as whatever the male equivalent of a useless lesbian is and martyns biphobic towards himself lmao).

i touched on this briefly in that one fic i wrote but i've always headcanoned martyn as being somewhat parentified and thus ties his worthiness to be loved into his ability to perform acts of service for someone rather than just.. existing and letting himself be loved.

so as jimmy became more independent, martyn becomes a bit more insecure about their friendship. this becomes a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy as he distances himself from jimmy, feeling like jimmy wouldn't love him if he didn't Need him, and jimmy in return feels confused and hurt as he helplessly watches someone he knew all his life drift away.

that + jimmy has this not-so-subtle crush on scott that martyn's always suspected. he's a jealous bitch.

The storm formed after a final sip, my fingertips frozen solid, I pretend that again I can see, you past the rails, ready to meet And I wonder is it too much to ask, to once more, hold you warm in my hands? To accept I can’t forget, and embrace what still fails to fade?

Milk Tea (Oktavia's translyrics) (because I wasn't kidding when I said these two were cheesy yuri to me lmao)

we had a clown to clown communication moment i think cus I also love the idea of them splitting up and meeting in Third Life years and years later (altho i like to imagine it as more of a voluntary separation).

some stuff copy+pasted from that cursed shipping doc i mentioned awhile back: ((scott + jimmy became a thing while martyn was gone pre-3L))

Now reuniting in 3L as fully grown adults after years apart, all those suppressed emotions come bubbling back up to the surface. An adult Martyn is much less unsure about what he's feeling and Jimmy still has those fantasies of what could have been playing on loop in his head. Of course, Jimmy is still attached to Scott and can't abandon his Bethrothed. He loves and knows what's best for him, he would sooner die than forsake his loyalty. But it does hurt when he hits him. Martyn still cares for Jimmy deeply, whether he wants to or not. He takes the time to keep an eye out for him, even though they had no real reason to interact anymore. He becomes one of the only people to realise what Scott was like with him, how devoid of love it all was. He throws out a line, offers to help him run away. Jimmy refuses. Betrayal. A second time. For the same man. Who cares about Jimmy anyway? (he always did take me for granted)

(a little note here before anyone sets me on fire - time works a bit differently in my writing and the players don't have exact ages but jimmy and martyn's age gap is probably not as dramatic as their cc counterparts)

(it's still there but neither of them even recognise their feelings as remotely romantic until they reunite as adults, as kids it's all just them being silly and having grade school drama with each other)

So uh yeah lots of mutual pining and suppressed feelings and puppy love turned angst👍 tis all i shall say cus i wanna make art of the rest lol

Just a second to lessen the ache, or minute to kiss it away I’d give all I have for the chance to go back to youth and you

#asks #ask games #trafficshipping #solidwood #mirror birds #martyn/jimmy #property police #why do these guys have like fifty names #martyns always been a bit boistrous but he starts getting rlly mean later towards jim :c

[ask-the-cosmic-duo]

Stella, you keep talking about something happening to your magic power, and it's not entirely clear to us what that was; what mysterious or interesting things have happened to your magical potential?

"Hoo boy, how do I explain this...?" Stella thought about it for an entire fifteen seconds, then sighed. "Well, I guess I owe you guys an explanation... But I don't want to reveal everything. There's gotta be something to wonder about, right?"

"So... I'm not normal. Never was. Many ponies call me an enigma, and that's not inaccurate. Not even I fully understand my potential. I think some of that was answered recently though, when I found my newest State, the Origin State."

"... Wait, I probably need to explain those, don't I?" She cleared her throat. "Here in Equestria Cross, by technicality, every living entity that has access to magic has an empowered state called an Overdrive. Not everyone can tap into it, though. It takes immense focus and power to trigger a typical Overdrive. Think super states from Sonic, or the Super Saiyan transformation in Dragon Ball. You power up your magic beyond your normal limits, and can in turn power up the rest of your self using it. But in rare cases, States can come in forms other than a typical Overdrive, like Rainbow Power here in Equestria, or a Super Saiyan God from, again, Dragon Ball."

"I've had five of them. Cosmic is my version of a normal Overdrive, but I've also had four others that are certainly not typical. Abyssal, Entropic, Copycat, and Origin. Unfortunately, I can't access my Abyssal State anymore, since I gave up that power to a successor of sorts, but I still have the others. I think I can talk about the weakest, with a question mark, of the four States I do have..."

"My Copycat State allows me to copy the abilities and attacks of others, assuming I'm there to witness them. However, I can only use them while in the State, as it's what allows me to perform them in the first place using various forms of substitution, such as for the required type of energy. But the State itself doesn't grant much power, not even to the same level as my Cosmic State, so it's only really used to copy others. On the other hoof, the abilities I learn can give me power, so it's not like it's totally useless. In a sense, I guess it's kinda like Kirby.

"What's weird is that I think I've had this ability to copy attacks for a long time, and it's only now manifested in a form I can understand. I've had a few previous lives, and some of those powers somehow carried over to my current one. The only reason I even know that is because of my Origin State, where I've noticed what seems to be a Saiyan appear next to me at times. It's not Goku, or Vegeta, or Gohan, or any of them. If anything, he's wearing that martial arts uniform from the Xenoverse games. Y'know, the one right before the four-star Dragon Ball outfit? It's strange..."

"I'm still not sure I entirely understand what's going on with me. A lot has happened, and I've gone through a bunch of changes, some of which I'm still getting used to. Even now, changes are still occurring, and it can be hard to keep track of. But I'll figure something out, I'm sure. Eventually."

#Equestria Cross #Ask #Ask GadZooks #Stellar Spirit #Stella's Powers #Lore #Lots of Lore #Like holy shit that's a lot of lore #Reference #Lots of References

[deramin2]

I've started actively blocking people who are like, "Either you care about every problem in the world so much that it destroys your ability to cope with or you're a fake ally and complicit!"

It breeds scrupulosity OCD, as in explicitly seeks to induce a debilitating mental illness in people to perform purity on social media. It's also totally ineffective from an activism stand point. It spreads you so thin that all you can do is share social media posts you haven't fact checked. No one actually has time and bandwidth to care about everything. Our brains were never built to hold so many relentless horrors. We burn out and can't handle any of it at all because we do actually have limited energy.

If you want to be effective instead of performative, you have to pick one or two things to really care about and put your energy into really understanding what's going on and what steps we can take to make that better. Sometimes those are incremental inadequate steps because that's what you can persuade people to spend resources on right then. But those changes can matter a lot to people on the ground even though it doesn't fix everything. And then you fight for the next step. And slowly you change things. Sometimes you win big. (And then spend a lot of energy convincing people that isn't a discrete happy ending and you have to keep fighting for more.)

I highly encourage people to pick issues that aren't getting a lot of attention and need hands the most. You can also think about how a fight you're not focusing on is intersectional with what you are doing and how to support other groups through your work. Like if you're working on supporting your local queer community but are concerned about the Sudanese genocide, you might see how your resources or networking or grant writing skills can support Sudanese immigrants coming into town. Or work to support organizations like Doctors Without Borders that has over mission but supports many places through it.

Which is not to say you ignore everything else in the world and go into a bubble. But you have to forgive yourself for being human and having human capacity. You CAN'T know everything. You CAN'T absorb every horror of the world. You have limited time to actually work on things. Being a witness can be useful, but if all you have time for is watching the horrors helplessly then you aren't actually helping. Absorbing less but doing more is way more effective.

There's certainly something to be said about who actually gets attention and help and how that plays into biases and people only helping themselves or their in group. But destroying your ability to cope with the world to the point of constant guilt spiralling is not an effective solution to that problem. If you want absolution, care more about less.

So I'm done with internet armchair activists who think guilt tripping will change the world. They're not just useless, they're actively harmful. Don't follow people just because you think you deserve to be yelled at constantly to absolver your sins and keep you on the straight and narrow. Figure out how you can make a real impact in people's lives.

[thecareandkeepingofwhumpees]

My entry for @febuwhump day 16: came back wrong. I strayed a bit from the original prompt, but that’s where this idea originated.

Hi, @whumpy-wyrms! You asked to be tagged if I ever wrote anything about Maddox.

Content warnings: medicinal drugs, surgery, description of a corpse, dry heaving, needles, possible body dysmorphia/dysphoria triggers, and myriad scientific inaccuracies.

Maddox viewed himself, his body, as expendable.

So was it really any surprise that he, like the favorite toy of a toddler, dragged around with them everywhere without care or caution, had grown ragged; stained and fraying at the edges? No, of course not. But the fact of the matter was that his scarred and needy body had caused him more problems than it was worth.

As a scientist, it was his job to discover innovative solutions to any problems that may present themselves, and as a mad scientist, those solutions were not limited by a code of ethics or lack of government funding, meaning he could, should, and would find an alternative to his current situation.

As was so often the case, the solution came in the form of a robot. Two robots, actually. One that would become his new body, and one to hold the scalpel, because he couldn’t very well operate on his own spinal cord, now could he? No; no, that wouldn’t work. He would need to be under anesthesia, at the very least, throughout the entire procedure. Thankfully, being self-employed, he could grant himself as much time as he saw fit to build, code, and perfect two robots. It’d taken a few years and many sleepless nights, but the time had finally arrived.

Maddox laid himself down on his operating table, the robot that was soon to be him poised nearby, and slid a needle into the vein in his wrist, connecting it to the IV that would pump the anesthesia into his bloodstream. Arranging himself into the planned position, he allowed the drowsiness seeping into his mind from the drug to carry him into nothingness.

When Maddox regained consciousness, everything was wrong.

No, that- no, nothing was wrong. The procedure had gone perfectly. He should be ecstatic.

Years ago, Maddox had given himself top surgery. It had been, at that point, the most invasive procedure he’d performed on himself. It was messily done, and the scars it had left were long and jagged, but what he had felt when it was finished was relief, like an itch just out of his reach had finally been scratched.

Now, the only thing he felt was something close to horror.

His brain was spamming him with the urge to double over vomiting, an instinct that, as he was no longer in possession of a stomach, was rendered useless. Of course, he must allow for an adjustment period as his brain adapts to its new situation, he reasoned as he sank to the floor, retching. He stayed on his knees until his mechanical breathing fell back into a normal rhythm.

Then he pulled himself back up onto his feet, and glanced at the operating table, which was a bad idea because he was on the operating table. Well, no. Not him-him, but his corpse. An incision, cleaner than Maddox’s human hands could ever have achieved, slit his corpse open from the top of his head to the middle of his back, flaps of skin hanging loose as if he were a frog abandoned in the middle of dissection.

Maddox was surprised that the sight didn’t send him into another round of dry heaving, but perhaps his brain had finally realized the futility of the motion. Instead, he pulled himself back onto the table, and curled up against his corpse. As he now had no reason to worry about going hungry or contracting a disease, there was nothing to prevent him from mourning himself for as long as he needed.

#febuwhumpday16 #febuwhump #maddox #came back wrong #whump #whump writing #febuwhump2024 #self-whump #self-inflicted whump #supers universe #caretaker talks

[mmkin]

Get You Some Chew love!

The next part of my Get You Some Arlong Pirates is now up, starring our favorite big-lipped fishman. (snippet from story included in cut below link. Content warning - mentions of slavery and abuse. NSFW but consensual between Chew and his partner)

“I’d think you would be more excited about a mermaid dragging you off into the woods to be alone with you, hm?” you ask him flirtatiously. His lips pull into one of his trademark smirks as he looks down at you, but you see desire in his eyes despite his cool facade.

So, is that how it's going to be, you wonder. Some men like to act tough or distant so that their supplicants or petitioners will grovel or beg harder. You've seen it done to slaves and commoners alike when a Celestial Dragon decides they will not grant favors so easily.

You’re not going to let Chew do that. You will have him on his knees, begging before you decide to grant him some mercy. So you reach down, boldly grabbing his crotch and kneading it through his shorts. You feel the stiffening and twitching, and you mirror his smirk with your own as you continue to massage him, remembering the times you’d caught him watching you, his expression controlled, his eyes half-lidded as they so often were.

When he is nice and hard, you slide your hand up and under his vest, feeling his abs and the sun mark that is branded onto his stomach.

“Open your vest,” you command, not wanting to deal with the hindrance of the fabric. He quickly does as you ask, and by the moonlight filtering through the leaves above your head, you’re rewarded with quite a delectable sight. Your previous owner, and many of the men you had to perform for, were disgusting, flabby humans, soft from living useless lives. On Chew, it looks like the plushest part of him is his lips, and from what you felt between his legs, his lips are the only part of him that’s soft.

“Like what you see?” Chew asks. You look up at him through your eyelashes.

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” you ask as your fingers trace along his collarbone before sliding down to a nipple, and you carefully rub it with the pad of your finger. You hear a sharp intake of breath as his nipple responds, and you pinch and roll it between your thumb and finger for several seconds, watching his expression. He’s enjoying it, but still trying to maintain a calm facade. You still have one free hand, so you use that opportunity to tease his other nipple as you press your pelvis to his upper thighs, feeling the unmistakable evidence of his arousal against your lower stomach. He arches against you, and you smile before pulling your hips back.

Your nails scrape lightly against his skin as you move your hands downward. “Open your pants.”

He is quick to obey this command as well. You reach in, pulling out his turgid member. It's longer with a slight upward curve, thicker, and with a pleasing color, more attractive than any organ you've ever seen before. "Nice," you breathe almost without thinking. Nice is quite the understatement, but it's a word that will suffice for the moment, especially as your insides warm to a degree you're certain you've never experienced before. You study it for a couple of moments, admiring the gentle color shift to purplish at the tip.

You use your hands again, stroking, running your nails along the length, some pumping, while Chew leans back against the tree, watching everything you do, his teeth delicately gritted as he maintains self-control, but there is no denying that his cheeks are more rosy than they normally are. Here and there, you’ll move your hand away from his penis so that you can tease his stomach or thighs, or his nipples.

You do not allow him to try to grab you. He is surprisingly obedient when you tell him to keep his hands at his sides, though you’ll see him flex his biceps or fingers as a way to try to maintain his patience. You rub your finger along the tip, feeling the precum that oozes from there, and rubbing the slick along the head of his throbbing need, and you hear a groan as he shifts his body weight, bringing his hips forward as he does so.

You move back, refusing him the satisfaction he so craves. You wet the tip of your thumb and fingers against him before sliding them down his length and cupping his balls.

“You’re quite ready to cum, aren’t you?” you ask in a soft voice, massaging him. Fishmen typically have their balls closer to their body, not hanging so loose like humans. But there is enough there for you to feel, and you gently press into it with your palm. He nods.

“You don't get to cum until I do," you say, lifting your skirt. You're not wearing underwear. "Put these lips of yours to good use."

And he does, sinking to his knees while you lift one foot, propping it against the tree and leaning from the same side with your arm, getting yourself comfortable. His lips feel divine as he presses them against your inner thighs, and you are unable to hold back a coo of enjoyment. You do not object when he slides his hands along your legs. He's a bit awkward at first, but you're fucking horny, and he wants you to cum, so he listens to you and feels how you buck your hips against his face. His lips and tongue moved more slowly at first as he familiarized himself with you, but in due time, his attention became aggressive, his tongue working at you with a rapid-fire that makes you think of his water missiles.

You try to make sense of what is going on down there, but every vibration pummels any rational thought you attempt to form, your clit aching deliciously as he flicks his powerful tongue against that oh-so-sensitive nub… How the fuck is that even possible?

You didn’t think any man would be capable of this, but he has your hips rolling against his face frantically, and he has his hands on your outer thighs to steady you, his fishman strength giving him an edge over you as he uses them to keep you from falling over. You have to bite back screeches and cries as the unending vibrations assault your clit before he sends you crashing into orgasm, gasping and panting as you hug his head to your body with one hand tangled in his hair. He slows his pace, but his lips and tongue draw out the pleasure at a gentler pace, leaving you panting and whimpering.

Damn. You feel his hands slide from you as he stands up, and you see he is still erect. You’d become so lost in pleasure that you had nearly forgotten why you were here.

“So, little mermaid,” he whispers. “I believe it is my turn.” There is that voice you hear when he is leading a team on a mission, issuing commands with calm efficiency. Your mind scrambles to assess the situation so you can take control of it again. Your inner thighs tremble, and you swear your clit is still buzzing.

Part of you is annoyed at how he was able to surprise you in such a pleasurable way. Even now, you ache for him, having felt how thick and hard he was. You suppose you can be petty and finish him off with a handjob or tell him to finish himself off while you watch, but when you feel the tip of his cock slide along your inner thigh, the rest of your body is firm in telling you that your clit isn’t the only part of you that needs fun.

You arch your back and press against him. He takes the cue readily enough and slides into you. Even with how slick you are, his cock is a commanding presence as it fills you, making itself known with a twitch that has you moaning. One of his hands rests on the tree, and the other wanders to your side, sliding along it and gently massaging a tit as he stands there, impaling you and forcing you on tiptoe due to his height.

“Does the lovely mermaid like my cock, chu?” he demands quietly, rolling his hips against you.

“Are all fishmen this cocky?" you ask, evading his question. He chuckles at that and rolls his hips more firmly, lifting you off your feet.

“Feel that? I know you do,” Chew comments smugly. You blow a raspberry at him, and he laughs before peppering your jawline with kisses. You could become addicted to these lips if you’re not careful…

#writing #one piece #opla #villain gets the girl #strawberrycatbeans #fanfiction #chew #choo #chu #fishmen are sexy #smut #monsterotica #chew x reader #reader insert #op x reader #op x y/n #arlong pirates #arlong park

[kanohirren]

How to Make GoodTimesWithScar in DnD

This is part 2 of my guide on building Life Series members in dnd 5e.

I’ll go level by level and explain the reasoning behind my decisions and how I think it fits them in character. This build assumes starting at level 8 but includes notes on differences if you start at level 1 and progress to 8. This is not intended as a guide on how to play dnd, just how to build this character. I also don't explain every feature but I may briefly touch on it and explain my reasoning for taking it.

Class: Bard (College of Whispers) 3, Rogue (Assassin) 5

Race: Half-elf

Base Ability Scores: (uses Tasha's Cauldron of Everything rule that allows for reallocating racial stat bonuses)

Str 12 (+1)

Dex 14, (+2) +2 from race = 16 (+3)

Con 14 (+2)

Int 8 (-1)

Wis 8 (-1)

Cha 15 (+2) +1 from race = 16 (+3)

Background: Faceless

Scar is one of the smoothest talkers I have ever had to joy (and horror) of witnessing. His ability to sweet talk you into giving him your boots or buy a magical crystal that’s more than likely a scam is unmatched. Also, he is Hot Guy. Naturally, he leans into bard with his natural ability to just tell stories, and all around be a likable person, but he is also good with a bow and sneaking up on people to shoot them (sorry, Hot Guy them) is one of the most iconic things about him to me. Without further ado, let’s get into it!

Before classes, here’s the half-elf features:

Darkvision 60 ft.

Fey Ancestry (advantage on saving throws vs being charmed)

Two extra skill proficiencies: athletics and sleight of hand

And the Faceless background features:

Proficiency in deception and intimidation

Proficiency with Disguise Kits

Faceless Persona: Hot Guy

At 1st level, we take a level in Bard. This grants us:

Proficiency in light armour

Proficiency in simple weapons, hand crossbows, longswords, rapiers, shortswords

Proficiency in three musical instruments: at least one should be a horn.

Proficiency in dexterity and charisma saving throws

Proficiency in three skills: Persuasion, Performance and Animal Handling

Bardic Inspiration: A pool of dice that you can grant yourself or party members to increase their rolls to help them succeed. With a 16 (+3) in charisma, we get three uses.

Two Cantrips: Mage Hand (you never know when you might need an extra hand) and Friends (That cheeky smooth talker, the funny part about this spell is that they know you conned them afterwards which is very accurate)

Four 1st lvl spells: Speak with Animals (Be quiet Jellie!), Tasha’s Hideous Laughter (he casts this on me a lot), Illusory Script (get people to sign some totally legit contracts) and Healing Word (just standard to take on a bard)

Scar will start off as much more of a utility-based party member. Without any damaging cantrips or spells, he’ll rely on his bow and party members in combat, but he’ll dominate social aspects of the game.

Unfortunately, bards can’t cast Find Familiar so there’s no Jellie summon at this level, but that will come later! Also, if you really don’t want Illusory Script (infamously useless spell) then you can take Charm Person instead.

At 2nd level, we take our second level in Bard. This grants us:

Jack of All Trades: adds half your proficiency bonus to all your skill checks. Now you’ll be useful in all situations.

Song of Rest: Extra healing during a short rest

One new spell:Faerie Fire (useful way to get advantage on lots of targets)

Scar really is good at a lot of aspects of the game, even if his goofy personality tends to make people forget. These features are all helpful different ways.

At 3rd level, we take our third level in Bard. This grants us:

Expertise in two skills: Choose Deception and Persuasion (you’ll have a ridiculously easy time convincing NPCs)

One new spell & access to 2nd level spells: Phantasmal Force (funny trickery spell)

Subclass: College of Whispers

College of Whispers grants:

Psychic Blades: expend bardic inspiration to deal extra 2d6 psychic damage on your weapon attacks. (This will go well with sneak attack later)

Words of Terror: You can attempt to frighten an isolated creature by talking to them for a minute. (Oh Maaaaartynnnnnn)

At 4th level, we start multiclassing by taking a level of Rogue. This grants us:

Proficiency in thieves’ tools

One skill proficiency: Choose Acrobatics

Expertise in two more skills: Choose Performance and Animal Handling

Sneak Attack: extra damage if you have advantage on your attack or an enemy of your target is next to them.

Thieves’ Cant: Secret language (perhaps Scar is too used to speaking this and that’s why he keeps mixing up his words like gongs and axolotls)

Now we get to the especially trickstery side of Scar. The side of Scar that will murder you. He doesn’t need stealth as a rogue because he’s going to get on your good side before he shoots you in the back.

At 5th level, we take a second level of Rogue. This grants us:

Cunning Action: Dash, disengage or hide as a bonus action.

Not much to say here either, cunning action is just useful. A bonus action disengage or dash helps with running away from people you’ve conned.

At 6th level, we take a third level of Rogue. This grants us:

Sneak Attack Upgrade (2d6)

Subclass: Assassin

Assassin grants:

Assassinate: You gain automatic critical hits on surprised targets and have advantage on attacks against anyone who hasn’t had a turn in initiative yet.

Bonus Proficiencies: Poisoner’s Kit and Disguise Kit* (overlaps with Background proficiency, talk to your DM about swapping out for a different proficiency)

The reasoning for this combo is that Scar can sweet talk people into a false sense of security, having them believe that he’s on their side. It will be much easier to get a surprise attack on them this way, and with the automatic crits you get big sneak attack damage that you can also stack Psychic Blades onto, which would also have its damage dice doubled. Assassins don’t have a lot going for them after the first round of combat, though, and this only works if you make the first move (getting snuck up on means you lose out on your biggest combo).

At 7th level, we take a fourth level of Rogue. This grants us:

Ability Score Improvement OR Feat. Take the Magic Initiate feat and choose the Wizard spell list to get two cantrips and a 1st lvl spell. For cantrips, choose Minor Illusion and Message. For the 1st lvl spell, take Find Familiar so you can finally summon your Jellie!

Realistically, Scar would never send Jellie into battle (or maybe he would if she starts meowing too loud) but Jellie can provide sneak attack. Just be careful with her! Outside of combat, she can be a kitty doing kitty cat things.

At 8th level, we take a fifth level of Rogue. This grants us:

Uncanny Dodge: Use a reaction to take half damage from an attack (that luck crystal sure comes in handy).

Sneak Attack Upgrade (3d6)

Uncanny Dodge greatly improves Scar’s survivability in a way only Scar would understand.

Summary:

Final Stats:

Str 12 (+1)

Dex 16 (+3)

Con 14 (+2)

Int 8 (-1)

Wis 8 (-1)

Cha 16 (+3)

Attack with a shortbow: +3 (dex) +3 (prof. bonus) = +6 to hit, 1d6 + 3 piercing dmg

Sneak attack: 3d6

Psychic Blades: 2d6 psychic dmg

Crit damage: 2d6 piercing (short bow) + 6d6 piercing (sneak attack) + 4d6 psychic dmg (psychic blades) +3 (dex) = 12 – 75 dmg

Cantrips: Mage Hand, Friends, Minor Illusion, Message

1st lvl spells: Speak with Animals, Tasha’s Hideous Laughter, Illusory Script, Healing Word, Faerie Fire

2nd lvl spells: Phantasmal Force

And that’s it for Scar! He seems like a really fun character to play in social scenarios with the ridiculous rolls you’ll get with your deception and persuasion. He may not be optimized for combat, but dnd isn’t all about combat and I think this build’s greatest strength is roleplay. If anyone has any feedback or suggestions, I would love to read them! ^^

#trafficblr #gtws fanart #gtwscar fanart #dnd art #dnd #dungeons and dragons #traffic dnd #my art

[darklordazalin]

Azalin reviews: Darklord Blake Ramsay

Darklord: Dr. Blake Ramsay Domain: The Isle Domain Formation: 658 BC Power Level: 💀💀 ⚫⚫⚫ (2/5 skulls) Source: House on the Edge of Midnight (Dungeon Magazine 76; 2e)

Dr. Blake Ramsay once resided in the small seaside town of Mordentshire located in the Domain of Mordent. Blake had a particular fondness for performing unnecessary and experimental surgeries on his patients, all without the aid of anesthesia. It is commendable to devote such foresight into the art of medicine, for how else would one be able to determine a threshold of pain with the use of anesthesia? The people of Mordentshire, however, saw his methods as a form of inhumane madness than genius. Thus, Blake fled Mordent with his wife Helen and his daughter Liza. Together, they sailed the Sea of Sorrows until they reached an uncharted island, known simply as “The Isle”.

The Isle is surrounded by large, steep cliffs along its northwestern half and the rest of the island is a dense forest of deciduous trees and sloping lowlands.  Blake saw this island, and it’s lack of any formal settlements, as the perfect location for him to conduct his medical experiments in peace. He built a home, complete with an expansive laboratory, and continued his experiments on those native to the island and unfortunates who found themselves shipwrecked there.

In time, Helen bore two more children. The first was Gregory and the second Blake Jr. Blake was severely disappointed in both of his sons. Gregory had been born with oozing sores all over his body and a hunched back; Blake determined Gregory would not be able to perform medicine and thereby could not carry on his experiments after he passed. Blake Jr. had had a feeble mind and could not comprehend the intricacies of his father’s work. However, Liza, his eldest child and only daughter, was of sound mind and body. Shunning the rest of his family, Blake named Liza the heir to his research and focused on grooming her to carry on his work upon his death.

Now, this is completely understandable. One must ensure one’s heir is properly suited for ruling after one perishes. Ahem, I mean…ensure one’s research is continued and in the right hands. Perhaps Liza was not as bright as Dr. Ramsay believed her to be or mayhaps she was caught in a sudden storm. Either way, at age 12, she fell to her death from the cliffs that surrounded the Ramsay Estate after a strong wind threw her from their great heights.

Blake saw her fall and flew to her in a panic. He found her at the base of the cliffs, her limbs torn and smashed. In desperation, he carried her into his laboratory and spent fourteen days trying to revive her. Nothing he attempted saved her, which leads me to conclude that his experimentation is certainly nothing that required an heir to uphold.

The Doctor decided the best course of action was to utilized his useless family members to restore his daughter to life. He murdered them all, taking their organs and limbs to craft Liza new ones. Giving new life, true life, to dead flesh is nearly impossible in these lands except when our tormentors decide to interfere for their own amusement. The Dark Powers granted Liza her new life at exactly 1 minute before midnight. The clocks of the estate froze at this time and…so, it seems, did time for Dr. Blake. He believed he restored his daughter himself, but she was not as he had envisioned.

Liza was remade as a flesh golem and her eyes, once bright blue in color, were a putrid green. Blake, seeing this as a deformity that would prevent others from seeing her true intelligence, attempted to restore her eyes. He used his wife’s eyes and his sons, but each time her replaced her eyes they changed to that inhumane green. Frustrated, he burnt the rest of his family’s remains and his wife and two sons rose as spirits who haunt him, reminding him constantly of what he had done to them.

Some part of Blake might have realized that the inhuman appearance of Liza’s eyes was an indication that she was not truly alive and only a mere semblance of what she once was. Or perhaps not. For the Doctor continues to attempt to replace her eyes, using any that are suitable for his needs. This is a rather difficult task for the Darklord, for Blake cannot leave his own manor. Even if he is forcefully removed from his home, he fades and reappears within.

Blake, as most Darklords do, has his own unique set of powers. He can cast the spell “shadow door” at will, which allows him to vanish into one shadow and emerge from another. Considering he is not much of a combatant, this allows him a way to escape potential hostiles. However, he is also nearly immortal. Any wound he suffers, he heals almost immediately and the only way to kill him is to engulf his entire family in fire at the same time. I suggest sending a group of wizards and a few fireball scrolls to his estate and be done with it. 

#darklordreviews #ravenloft #azalin rex #Dr. Blake Ramsay #The Isle #A strange take on Mordenheim really #the eyes are windows to the soul...or in this case lack there of