#but has the best leader setting an example

[mostlysignssomeportents]

How lock-in hurts design

Berliners: Otherland has added a second date (Jan 28) for my book-talk after the first one sold out - book now!

If you've ever read about design, you've probably encountered the idea of "paving the desire path." A "desire path" is an erosion path created by people departing from the official walkway and taking their own route. The story goes that smart campus planners don't fight the desire paths laid down by students; they pave them, formalizing the route that their constituents have voted for with their feet.

Desire paths aren't always great (Wikipedia notes that "desire paths sometimes cut through sensitive habitats and exclusion zones, threatening wildlife and park security"), but in the context of design, a desire path is a way that users communicate with designers, creating a feedback loop between those two groups. The designers make a product, the users use it in ways that surprise the designer, and the designer integrates all that into a new revision of the product.

This method is widely heralded as a means of "co-innovating" between users and companies. Designers who practice the method are lauded for their humility, their willingness to learn from their users. Tech history is strewn with examples of successful paved desire-paths.

Take John Deere. While today the company is notorious for its war on its customers (via its opposition to right to repair), Deere was once a leader in co-innovation, dispatching roving field engineers to visit farms and learn how farmers had modified their tractors. The best of these modifications would then be worked into the next round of tractor designs, in a virtuous cycle:

https://securityledger.com/2019/03/opinion-my-grandfathers-john-deere-would-support-our-right-to-repair/

But this pattern is even more pronounced in the digital world, because it's much easier to update a digital service than it is to update all the tractors in the field, especially if that service is cloud-based, meaning you can modify the back-end everyone is instantly updated. The most celebrated example of this co-creation is Twitter, whose users created a host of its core features.

Retweets, for example, were a user creation. Users who saw something they liked on the service would type "RT" and paste the text and the link into a new tweet composition window. Same for quote-tweets: users copied the URL for a tweet and pasted it in below their own commentary. Twitter designers observed this user innovation and formalized it, turning it into part of Twitter's core feature-set.

Companies are obsessed with discovering digital desire paths. They pay fortunes for analytics software to produce maps of how their users interact with their services, run focus groups, even embed sneaky screen-recording software into their web-pages:

https://www.wired.com/story/the-dark-side-of-replay-sessions-that-record-your-every-move-online/

This relentless surveillance of users is pursued in the name of making things better for them: let us spy on you and we'll figure out where your pain-points and friction are coming from, and remove those. We all win!

But this impulse is a world apart from the humility and respect implied by co-innovation. The constant, nonconsensual observation of users has more to do with controlling users than learning from them.

That is, after all, the ethos of modern technology: the more control a company can exert over its users ,the more value it can transfer from those users to its shareholders. That's the key to enshittification, the ubiquitous platform decay that has degraded virtually all the technology we use, making it worse every day:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/twiddler/

When you are seeking to control users, the desire paths they create are all too frequently a means to wrestling control back from you. Take advertising: every time a service makes its ads more obnoxious and invasive, it creates an incentive for its users to search for "how do I install an ad-blocker":

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/07/adblocking-how-about-nah

More than half of all web-users have installed ad-blockers. It's the largest consumer boycott in human history:

https://doc.searls.com/2023/11/11/how-is-the-worlds-biggest-boycott-doing/

But zero app users have installed ad-blockers, because reverse-engineering an app requires that you bypass its encryption, triggering liability under Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act. This law provides for a $500,000 fine and a 5-year prison sentence for "circumvention" of access controls:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/12/youre-holding-it-wrong/#if-dishwashers-were-iphones

Beyond that, modifying an app creates liability under copyright, trademark, patent, trade secrets, noncompete, nondisclosure and so on. It's what Jay Freeman calls "felony contempt of business model":

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

This is why services are so horny to drive you to install their app rather using their websites: they are trying to get you to do something that, given your druthers, you would prefer not to do. They want to force you to exit through the gift shop, you want to carve a desire path straight to the parking lot. Apps let them mobilize the law to literally criminalize those desire paths.

An app is just a web-page wrapped in enough IP to make it a felony to block ads in it (or do anything else that wrestles value back from a company). Apps are web-pages where everything not forbidden is mandatory.

Seen in this light, an app is a way to wage war on desire paths, to abandon the cooperative model for co-innovation in favor of the adversarial model of user control and extraction.

Corporate apologists like to claim that the proliferation of apps proves that users like them. Neoliberal economists love the idea that business as usual represents a "revealed preference." This is an intellectually unserious tautology: "you do this, so you must like it":

https://boingboing.net/2024/01/22/hp-ceo-says-customers-are-a-bad-investment-unless-they-can-be-made-to-buy-companys-drm-ink-cartridges.html

Calling an action where no alternatives are permissible a "preference" or a "choice" is a cheap trick – especially when considered against the "preferences" that reveal themselves when a real choice is possible. Take commercial surveillance: when Apple gave Ios users a choice about being spied on – a one-click opt of of app-based surveillance – 96% of users choice no spying:

https://arstechnica.com/gadgets/2021/05/96-of-us-users-opt-out-of-app-tracking-in-ios-14-5-analytics-find/

But then Apple started spying on those very same users that had opted out of spying by Facebook and other Apple competitors:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

Neoclassical economists aren't just obsessed with revealed preferences – they also love to bandy about the idea of "moral hazard": economic arrangements that tempt people to be dishonest. This is typically applied to the public ("consumers" in the contemptuous parlance of econospeak). But apps are pure moral hazard – for corporations. The ability to prohibit desire paths – and literally imprison rivals who help your users thwart those prohibitions – is too tempting for companies to resist.

The fact that the majority of web users block ads reveals a strong preference for not being spied on ("users just want relevant ads" is such an obvious lie that doesn't merit any serious discussion):

https://www.iccl.ie/news/82-of-the-irish-public-wants-big-techs-toxic-algorithms-switched-off/

Giant companies attained their scale by learning from their users, not by thwarting them. The person using technology always knows something about what they need to do and how they want to do it that the designers can never anticipate. This is especially true of people who are unlike those designers – people who live on the other side of the world, or the other side of the economic divide, or whose bodies don't work the way that the designers' bodies do:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/20/benevolent-dictators/#felony-contempt-of-business-model

Apps – and other technologies that are locked down so their users can be locked in – are the height of technological arrogance. They embody a belief that users are to be told, not heard. If a user wants to do something that the designer didn't anticipate, that's the user's fault:

https://www.wired.com/2010/06/iphone-4-holding-it-wrong/

Corporate enthusiasm for prohibiting you from reconfiguring the tools you use to suit your needs is a declaration of the end of history. "Sure," John Deere execs say, "we once learned from farmers by observing how they modified their tractors. But today's farmers are so much stupider and we are so much smarter that we have nothing to learn from them anymore."

Spying on your users to control them is a poor substitute asking your users their permission to learn from them. Without technological self-determination, preferences can't be revealed. Without the right to seize the means of computation, the desire paths never emerge, leaving designers in the dark about what users really want.

Our policymakers swear loyalty to "innovation" but when corporations ask for the right to decide who can innovate and how, they fall all over themselves to create laws that let companies punish users for the crime of contempt of business-model.

I'm Kickstarting the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

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/2024/01/24/everything-not-mandatory/#is-prohibited

Image: Belem (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Desire_path_%2819811581366%29.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #desire paths #design #drm #everything not mandatory is prohibited #apps #ip #innovation #user innovation #technological self-determination #john deere #twitter #felony contempt of business model

[lowkeyerror]

The Family Business Ch.7

WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Ch. Notes: Angst, Violence, Emotional, translations: Moye ditya= my child moye serdtse= my heart

Summary: Y/n, Wanda, and Pietro are forced to prepare for the worst after learning of the one on one meeting Dragos has set up with Kingpin.

An: Hey 🫣, Please don't be mad. It feels wrong to say I hope you enjoy this one but... I hope we can recover from this together 💜

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

The sound of your office door slamming was enough to startle some of the other employees working. You were relatively good at keeping your cool, but your skin felt like it was on fire. Your fists keep clenching and unclenching, trying to find some outlet for the anger.

Pietro and Wanda watch carefully from outside your door as you try to subdue your anger. Wanda wants to go in and comfort you, but Pietro stops her.

“She doesn’t need you to go in there and coddle her,” he speaks to his sister.

“Well, I’m not planning to just watch her like this,” Wanda tries again, but Pietro’s grip on her becomes firmer.

“Wanda she’s not the same- “

Wanda cuts him off, “Y/n told me, that anything I want to know about her can come directly from her. So, if you want to stand out here and watch her suffer, that’s on you. However, I’m checking on our friend.”

Wanda softly raps on the door before entering your office. You don’t move, it’s like she’s not even there. Not until she’s kneeling on the floor next to you. Her hand rests gently on your knee.

“Talk to me little krolik,” it’s soft, merely a suggestion. Wanda is content with the silence, but she wanted to give you the option to talk.

“Wanda she’s not in the mood to-”

Pietro is cut off, by your eyes locking on his. The gaze is harsh enough to shut him up immediately. Even though tears are building behind your eyes, anger seems to be the primary emotion coursing through your body.

“I can’t believe he’s doing this,” you speak not looking at either sibling. “It’s reckless, it’s careless, it’s naïve. Why would he put himself in danger like this? Does he not know that we need him?”

“Papa is doing what he thinks is best to avoid war,” Pietro states, though he barely believes his own words.

“Or he’s giving Kingpin the opportunity to start it with a bang,” you counter.

Wanda takes a sharp breath, “All we can do is prepare for the worst.”

“Wanda, you don’t think that papa will be, okay?” There’s something in Pietro’s tone that sounds fragile. He sounds like a scared little boy. You had almost forgotten that he could sound that way.

“We all think he’s making a mistake. There will be consequences and fallout regardless of the outcome. Papa seems to think he’s preventing a war, but the true war has already started. Kingpin is flipping our associates, encroaching on our properties, and trying to make us a non-factor. The war is here. If he does anything stupid during this meeting, we could end up without a leader.”

“Vulnerable to attacks, we could lose everything,” you add, rubbing your temples.

“What are we going to do?”

Your hand absent-mindedly finds Wanda’s that rests on your knee. You play with her digits as you speak, “If anything happens to Dragos we can’t afford to fall back or lay low. Kingpin and everyone else will assume we are weak and that would be the end of us. We’d have to make a power play, something to show that we are and always will be on top.”

Wanda takes in your features as you speak. Your eyes are hard, and your jaws clenched. There’s a vein along your neck that’s pulsing with your words. As tense as you look, there’s something so calm around you. The hand that’s playing with Wanda’s fingers moves delicately across her knuckles, a complete contrast to the rest of your body language. Wanda thinks you look like a leader.

“We can make an example out of someone?” Pietro hypothesizes.

Wanda adds in her thoughts, “Or something.”

“The docks. We’re getting out shipments primarily through planes and trains, but everyone else uses the docks,” you begin to explain.

“If we target the docks, which means people would have no choice but to come through us for their goods,” Wanda finishes your thoughts.

Pietro is in disbelief, “You guys want to blow up the docks?”

“We could blow them up or we could just make them unable to be used,” Wanda offers a different option.

“Oil spill; stopped the ports for months in California a few years back. No materials could be sent through and the stuff at the docks had to be thrown out because of contamination,” you try to suggest, but it sounds like you made up your mind.

Wanda nods, “I could send Natasha some resources and she could make this concrete enough to put into motion.”

“She’d need to have this ready in potentially 2 to 3 days. If something happens at that meeting, we will need to have this ready quickly.” You begin typing on your computer, to see if you can locate any ships transporting oil passing through in the next few days.

“What can I do?” Pietro asks.

“You need to support Natasha. Wanda’s going to be sending her a lot of information and if you’re there to go over the nuisances it’ll make things easier for everyone.”

“I can head over now,” he says, and you give him a curt nod. He leaves the room once again leaving just you and Wanda.

Wanda breaks the silence, “You’re a natural leader, little krolik.”

You blush at her words and shake your head, “I’m just trying to make sure this empire that your family built doesn’t fall apart. It’s the least I could do after all that you’ve done for me.”

“Our family; you are a part of it,” Wanda corrects you.

“Flora and Dragos are the parents that mine couldn’t be. I know they’re your actual parents and that maybe it's selfish of me to worry, but if anything were to happen to either of them; I don’t know what I’d do,” your hands shoot up to cover your eyes.

You don’t want your tears to fall in front of her. Wanda had seen you cry a lot when you were younger, softer, but this version of yourself; she didn’t cry. She was supposed to be able to hold her emotions. However, the thought of losing the man that had given her everything in this world, was terrifying to her.

Wanda is gentle as she runs a hand through your hair, “It’s a scary thought, losing mama or papa. I’ve thought about it a lot, and it never becomes less scary. The only thing that helps is that I know I won’t have to feel this way on my own.”

“I hate that we have to talk about him like he’s already dead,” your hands stay over your eyes.

“Me too.”

Wanda’s hand in your hair is the only thing keeping you from breaking down. The speaker in your office breaks the building silence.

“Y/n, I just wanted to let you know that Mr. Maximoff has just left,” you hear Kate’s voice announce.

“Thanks for letting me know Katie,” you answer her, as you feel the gravity of the situation set in.

“Y/n… there’s a car in the parking garage with his destination programmed into the GPS,” Kate gives you the information and your ears perk up.

“Kate, did you-”

“Perks of setting up a meeting is knowing exactly where it is. If you go now, you can tail him at a respectable distance just to make sure he’s safe.”

You waste no time getting out of your seat, “God Katie, you’re the best.”

“Anything for you Y/nn and anything for the family of course.”

With Pietro already out of the office, it would be just Wanda and yourself tailing Dragos. When you got to the car Kate had ready for you, Wanda offers to drive. You let her and take the passenger seat quickly texting Pietro the location of the meeting but telling him to stay put unless you message him again.

Your leg bounces recklessly as Wanda drives. The nerves you worked hard to tame seem to be back in full force. The ride feels uncharacteristically quiet, but there isn’t much to say.

“So, you and Kate?” Wanda breaks the silence.

If you weren’t so stressed maybe you’d laugh, “You sound just like your wife. Kate is just my friend, that’s all.”

“I’m just curious. You’ve grown into quite the young women, I’m sure you’ve had a long line of lovers,” Wanda speaks nonchalantly.

You can feel your ears heat at her comment, “I’ve been on some dates, but they don’t usually stick around.”

Wanda’s eyebrows raise as she keeps eye focus on the road, “My little krolik is a player then?”

You sputter, “I am not.”

“It sounds to me like you go on few dates, get what you want, and move on to the next,” Wanda’s eyes cut briefly to you.

“You need to stop getting information about me from Pietro, he’s delusional,” you shake your head, face nearly red with embarrassment.

“Then enlighten me.”

You sigh, “I go on the date, it’s just fine, and then I go another date. It’s just that simple.”

“You sound rather unhappy with that.”

You shrug, “This line of work, it’s dangerous. Anything can happen to me, and I have to date someone that I think could handle that. If I don’t think they can, then dating them would be a waste of both of our time. Not all of us can find a hot Russian spy.”

Wanda’s hand rests on your knee, “I suppose not, but I know there’s someone out there for you. You’ve always been a catch Y/n, anyone would be lucky to have you.”

It was easier to run with the narrative that there were other fish in the sea when Wanda wasn’t around. Having her back here was stirring up emotions inside of you. You thought that your liking to Wanda was simply teenage hormones, but you aren’t a teenager anymore. It’s been two days of having Wanda back and you can feel your feelings for her returning in full force.

“Less on my love life, and more on protecting Dragos,” you refocus on the task at hand.

When you’re close to the location, you recognize it as an abandoned construction site. You can see two other cars parked side by side further ahead.

“Park there,” you point out a secluded area where the car won’t be spotted.

Wanda does as you say. As soon as the car stops, you’re exiting it. In your heart you want to run to search for Dragos, but professionally you know that’s not the call.

You and Wanda walk cautiously though the site, the sand around made the walking a more difficult than solid concrete.

You went to take a step, but Wanda’s hand on your shoulder pulls you down into a crouching position. Following her line of sight, you see Dragos and Kingpin talking. You can’t necessarily hear them, but you can tell it’s not a pleasant conversation.

You look around hoping to find a spot close enough to hear, but not close enough to draw attention to yourself. Before you can find anything, Wanda’s hand slips in yours and she’s tugging you along.

She finds a spot with the criteria you were looking for. You two can now hear the conversation between the two men.

“Wilson, I’m telling you, you don’t want this war,” Dragos tries to reason with the man.

“Why not, Maximoff? I ain’t got nothing to lose, but I’ve got everything to gain,” his laugh makes your hand twitch.

You could pull out your gun right now and shoot Fisk in the head. Your hand goes to grab your gun, but Wanda stops you. She’s not even looking at you. Her eyes are scanning around, to make sure you are the only other people here.

“Fisk, I will put you down if you step out of line again.”

“With what army old man? I’ve been taking your allies and gathering your enemies. Step down gracefully and maybe I’ll let you keep some of your business,” Fisk takes a step towards Dragos.

“You’re not taking the empire that I built.”

He sticks out his pinky, showing off his big ring, “It’s time to kiss the ring, Maximoff. It’s time for the kingpin to take his rightful spot at the head of the table.”

“Over my dead body,” Dragos doesn’t back down.

“I knew you would say something like that.”

It happens fast. The gun goes off and instinctively your hand goes over Wanda’s mouth. The cry that was leaving her lips died in it’s spot. Fisk aims his gun again at Dragos’s head but before he can pull the trigger, your other hand starts to shoot at him.

Your hands are shaking, but the shots are enough to cause Kingpin to run away.

“Call the police, go check on him. I’m chasing the bastard,” you don’t give her a chance to protest.

By the time you get back to where the cars were parked, Kingpin’s car is gone. You can’t help it but slam your fist against the nearest pole. You run back to where Wanda is.

Once your next to Wanda and Dragos you take a knee. The man is struggling to breathe with a bullet lodged into his sternum. Wanda shakes as she runs her fingers through his hair and tells him he will be ok.

You’re trying to stay strong, but the tears have already begun to fall. Dragos hand reaches for yours and you let him take it. His grip is weak, and it causes you to lose your composure.

“Papa, I’m sorry- I should’ve shot faster,” you speak what could possibly be your last words to the man who had given you a better life.

He looks at Wanda and then at you. It’s mangled, but he says, “T-take care o-of each other."

“Papa these are not your final words, stop acting like they are. The paramedics are coming, you are going to leave. You have to live,” Wanda snaps at the man.

“You’re m-mother will ne-ver forgive me f-for this,” he wheezes.

“As long as you're breathing, she will forgive you,” you respond.

He laughs but ends up coughing up his own blood. Dragos squeezes your hand, “I’m proud- of both of y-you. Wanda, moye serdtse I- have always believed in y-you. Y/n, moye ditya, I loved b-being your Papa.”

You see his eyes fluttering and you make eye contact with Wanda, “How long did they say Wanda?”

“30 minutes.”

You shake you head, “That’s not fast enough. We have to go now.”

“Y/n-"

“We don’t have time to argue, Wanda. Help me lift him,” you say steeling your nerves.

“Y/n we-”

“HELP ME LIFT HIM.” You weren’t asking anymore.

You start to lift the older man hearing him groan slightly. It’s a good sign, he’s still living. Wanda helps reluctantly. Once you’re at the car, you’re sweating, but you keep moving. You lay him across the back seat.

“You stay in the back with him,” you tell Wanda, getting in the driver’s seat.

As soon as she’s in the car you step on the gas. It’s something akin to the high-speed chase but the stakes are higher. You swerve through traffic and backstreets as much as you can. Adrenaline was pumping through your veins. All you could think about was saving Dragos.

“Wanda, how is he?” You call back to her knowing you had about 5 minutes until the hospital.

“His breaths are shallow Y/n. His eyes are closing,” she updates you with a shaky voice.

“Papa, Wanda’s going to squeeze your hand, squeeze back if you can. Keep squeezing until we get you there,” Your voice is raised but you aren’t yelling.

Wanda puts her hand in her father’s. He squeezes it gently, the pressure is weak, but it’s there.

You continue to swerve around traffic but each minute his grasp grows weaker. You pull into the emergency parking section at the hospital and start to scream for help.

People start to crowd around your car, and everything seems like it’s moving too fast. People are getting Dragos from your car. Wanda is in hysterics as it seems like dozens of people start wheeling her father away. You sit at the wheel of the car unable to move, unable to think.

You make the calls, so Wanda doesn’t have to. It doesn’t take long for the family to get to the hospital. They’re all wrecks. The Maximoff’s all have identical puffy red eyes as they hope to hear something from the doctor.

“You aren’t going to sit with them,” It’s Natasha who takes a seat next to you.

You shake your head, “I can’t, not right now. They need their space.”

“You’ve shed just as many tears as them lisichka,” Natasha cautiously brings her finger to your face wiping a stray tear.

“You should be comforting your wife, not me,” you say to her.

“She’s not the one sitting away from her family mourning alone when it isn’t necessary,” Natasha stands and extends her hand to you.

For awhile you just stare, but she’s unrelenting. You sigh taking her hand, it’s not soft like you expected it to be. It’s a little rough and warm, but it brings you comfort all the same.

Natasha sits next to Wanda, and you take a seat next to Pietro. Instantly his arm wraps around your shoulder pulling you close. The action breaks you as you bury your head into his chest and begin to silently sob.

He places a kiss on the top of your head and rubs your back. It makes you feel like a kid again. It had been so long since you needed something like this. The adrenaline was wearing off and all you were left with was an empty feeling.

You start to mumble that you’re sorry against your friend as your body softly shakes.

“Sweetheart, look at me,” Flora calls to you from her seat next to Pietro.

You do as she says, “This isn't your fault.  There's nothing you could've done.”

You open your mouth to protest, but the woman gives you a stern look. It quiets you, but you continue to feel guilty.

“Stop thinking so much. We don't know anything until the doctors tell us,” You wipe your tears at her words.

“Yes, mama,” you say it without realizing and when you do, your face heats up.

Flora opens her arms for you, and you switch from Pietro to her. Her hug is warm and strong. She wipes the tears from your face and looks at you with caring eyes.

“Everything will be ok moye ditya,” her words bring you great comfort.

“Family of Dragos Maximoff,” the doctor calls out and you all stand swiftly.

This is the moment of truth. You pray that you acted fast enough; that he would be ok. The somber look on the doctor’s face crushes those dreams instantly.

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick @sgm616 @bstvst @dorabledewdroop @sapphic-simp4015 @natty-taffy @justarandomreaderxoxo @mmmmokdok

#lowkeyerror #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #wandanat x reader #wandanat #pietro maximoff

[brewstersbru]

I want to get more used to writing low stakes lil blurbs so please enjoy this, also posted on ao3 under my pseud brewstersbru :) hopefully being able to post it here will bring the perfectionism anxiety down lol

***

Astarion is perhaps the one of the most interesting, irritating, but somehow undoubtedly kind people Halsin has ever observed. Though he’d flay anyone who had the audacity to tell him it.

The duties of an Arch-Druid are many, and often arduous in nature, but nonetheless rewarding. And it all boils down to watching, observing, noticing little idiosyncrasies in the people he leads. The people who trust him with their lives and wellbeing. Halsin has become well-accustomed to watching, as any good leader must and it is no surprise that the skill has followed him to where he is now, camping with a menagerie of illithid-infected souls, searching for a cure.

Though, with this aforementioned observational skill, Halsin has gotten the distinct impression that many of them seek quite a bit more than a simple cure. Absolution, freedom, a clearer path forward. It is so often in the words they don’t say, rather than those they choose to reveal. For example, Gale never talks of an ‘after’, a concept all of the others seem so enamored with, save Astarion, of course. He simply hums and offers a small melancholy smile when conversation turns to the topic of everyone’s plans after they find a cure. It wasn’t difficult to figure him out, not when Halsin had been paying attention. Gale is convinced that dying is the only way to atone for his sins. To be forgiven.

Halsin’s heart aches at the thought; poor child, it is not a sin to wish to be loved. But he digresses.

Astarion, curiosity that he is, had immediately captured Halsin’s attention when he’d joined camp. On the surface he seemed shallow, and ill-tempered, but Halsin has not gotten this far in life by making quick judgements on a person’s first actions after he’s met them. Sure enough, he’d caught a glimpse of the real Astarion not even two days later.

It had been a long day, brimming with long, arduous battles after which they had all come out exhausted and bloodied. Wyll, with his lion’s heart, had fought especially ferociously. Perhaps too much so. His robe was torn horribly across the front and he’d had to be propped up as they trudged back to camp, unfortunately neither Halsin nor Shadowheart had maintained enough energy to heal anyone.

Astarion had almost immediately wedged himself under Wyll’s arm, curling an arm around his waist while also berating him as they walked. “What in the hells were you thinking jumping out like that! You’re weak, leave the feats of strength to Karlach you dolt!” And on and on. The words were cutting, and not entirely fair, but still, his hands remained gentle against his friends skin and he walked slowly so as not to jostle his injuries.

Shadowheart- exhausted herself, likely with a beast of a headache after all of the concentration spells she’d been slinging- had told Astarion to shut it, only hearing the words and not the worry behind them. He had obliged- another kindness-as his eyes darted around the scrunched pain painted over her expression and his own expression set in resolve. Still, he performed a pout, and everyone took it for what it was- or rather, what he’d wanted them to take it for: Astarion being his usual surly self.

Halsin took it for what it truly was, a man doing his best to aid his friends and keep their spirits high after such a grueling encounter. He’d thought they needed someone to direct their exhausted irritation at, lest they start picking themselves apart instead (something Halsin had noticed, but was unaware Astarion knew of) and offered himself like it was as natural as breathing.

The kindnesses didn’t stop there, either. When they made it to camp he’d taken Wyll to his bedroll as the others collapsed onto their own. Rummaged through the camp supplies until he found a potion of greater healing, then did not feed it to Wyll until he was half asleep and delirious.

“Mmh… Dad?” Wyll had murmured, eyes squinted closed as he moved his head around. Astarion had simply hummed and continued feeding him the potion.

For the rest of the night he prepped ingredients with practiced efficiency and left them next to the communal cooking pot for when the rest of the party woke for breakfast. Halsin had needed to trance for a few hours, loathe as he was to turn away from the scene, and when he returned Wyll’s robe had been mended, folded and placed aside his head. Astarion was nowhere to be seen. Halsin hoped he’d found his way to his own tent for a short trance.

Elves do not need to sleep, this much is true, but even a short trance would have done wonders to refresh and replenish his energy. Astarion had to know that.

Halsin is still unsure what the other elf had done for the rest of that night, but he’d emerged from his tent with just as much practiced, haughty vigor as he’d always had halfway through breakfast the next morning.

“Astarion! Good morning! Thank you for aiding me in our trek back yesterday.” Wyll had smiled at him, something warm and molten in his eyes. Astarion simply huffed and waved it off, “Well, dear, someone needed to lecture you about the dangers of heroism. None of these dimwits were going to do it.” Wyll smiled and the others gave halfhearted protests from where they’d been digging into the breakfast Gale had prepared from the ingredients Astarion had left out for him. There was a sparkle in his eye as he caught sight of them eating it, something almost like pride, if Halsin had to name it.

The others had been dumbfounded, asking around the campfire about who had done it. When no one came forward they’d simply shrugged and taken it to mean that the culprit was too humble to take credit. Besides, who were they to question a miracle such as this. No one asked the vampire if he’d done the deed, why would he have? He doesn’t eat food anymore and he doesn’t even really like them.

It’s exactly what he wants them to think. Halsin has to give him points for his dedication to maintaining pretense. Wyll doesn’t mention his robe, but his eyes dart from hand to hand trying to scrutinize any bandages or pricks that might indicate a late-night sewing session. It’s a smart move on his part but Astarion, it seems, is a masterful tailor. His fingers are unbandaged and unbloodied.

Everything carefully thought out and executed. Every kindness meticulously planned and hidden. He truly is an enigma. He would rather his friends believe him selfish and cruel, than see him for the gentle, caring man he truly is.

The kindnesses continue, always carefully implemented so as to erase any and all suspicion that Astarion may have had any part in it. He continues to be outwardly difficult and mean so as to cover his tracks. Halsin can do little but watch, as he always has, that is, until Astarion’s little kindnesses eventually and inevitably extend to him, too.

He is not so easily fooled, has seen past the performance that the other man puts on for some reason that he is still trying to parse.

It’s a quiet evening, the battles of the day had been hard, but nothing they were ill-equipped to handle. The shadow curse has been getting to Halsin, though. Seeing his greatest failure in all of it’s unbearable misery has been weighing on him. And he knows his struggle is not invisible to his fellow party members. They seem unsure what to do about it, though, seeing as he is a centuries old former Arch-Druid with life experience they could hardly fathom. He enjoys his time at camp but cannot say with certainty that he is truly close to anyone there. Though he wishes to be, he is afraid they’ve placed him on somewhat of a pedestal after his actions in the grove, forgetting that he is fallible and full of emotion, same as them.

He very nearly misses it, when it happens, too caught up in his thoughts to hear the slight shuffling near the entrance to his tent. Thankfully, he doesn’t, and emerges with a small smile.

Astarion freezes at the sound of his emergence, crouched over something small and wooden at his feet. Then, almost as if possessed, his shoulders relax and he looks up with a devilish grin. “Halsin! My dear, I was just looking for you. Some wretched little thing of a child has gifted me with perhaps the ugliest wooden duck I’ve ever had the misfortune of laying my eyes on. And these things are in no way ‘beautiful’ on a good day. I cannot have something so… distasteful loitering around my tent. You mentioned you liked ducks so I thought it would be of better use here. Otherwise I’m throwing it in the river.” It’s a lot of words, more than the vampire generally tends to use in casual conversation, as much as he pretends he’s an insufferable chatterbox. That’s the second clue Halsin gets that perhaps there’s more to this than Astarion is telling him. The first being the way he froze, as if he hadn’t been expecting Halsin to be there. “Looking for you”, right…

Astarion stands and nods at the duck on the ground. It’s small, a little misshapen, but it’s got hearts carved where it’s eyes should be and for some reason Halsin finds that hopelessly endearing. He kneels and cradles the thing gently in his cupped palms.

When he looks up Astarion is grinning at him, still in that sneering performative way he likes to, but in his eyes that shine of pride makes itself known. Halsin likes the duck, it’s obvious. And Astarion is proud of himself, but he’ll never tell. He’ll never let anyone else be.

The third clue is dripping sluggishly down Astarion’s finger, stark and red against his deathly pale skin. Halsin remembers the first time he’d whittled. His hands had looked much of the same. He smiles.

“Thank you, Astarion. This is very good. Would you like some salve for your hand?”

Astarion’s eyes widen, only fractionally, but noticeable if you’d been looking in his eyes. And Halsin had been. Still, his expression shutters and he pastes another smirk on before turning his nose up at the duck.

“Thank the Gods, that ugly thing is your problem now. And I’ve no idea what you mean dear, my hand is perfectly serviceable.” He rushes away with a perfunctory wave, likely to rob Halsin of the opportunity to call him out on his bullshit. Halsin only smiles and cradles the duck. He’d bloodied his hands for this, for him. The surge of affection that washes through him is entirely involuntary but wholly welcome.

Astarion wakes from his trance the next morning to a gift settled gently at the entrance of his tent. It’s a wooden cat, masterfully carved from a dark oak and undeniably beautiful. Perfectly fitting the vampire’s tastes and sensibilities.

A note lies beside it in what he recognizes to be Halsin’s messy scrawl.

Thank you, Astarion, again for the duck. It thrills and delights me to know that you care. It did make me feel better, you know, and I still have that salve if you need. All you have to do is ask. I thought I’d return the favor, seeing as you do so much for the camp but refuse to let anyone see it, or thank you.

I see you. I thank you.

Yours,

Halsin

#bg3 #astarion #halsin #bloodbear #halsin x astarion #halstarion #gale being a wet cat #wyll being dashing and heroic #can you tell im swooning #i care him sm #you guys dont get it like i do #covert kindnesses #astarion is kind of like those cats that look away as they slide food towards you #like ‘gods ur pathetic but /here/ i guess’ #brublurbs

[mickyschumacher]

Hi!!! I just wanna say that I really love your writings!!! Their so good hehehe!! Can you do one a mick x wolff!reader?? Maybe one where toto sets them up cause he is tired of seeing them make heart eyes at each other and not making a move HHHH. Thank you lovie!!🤍

𝐒𝐄𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐔𝐏  .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: love at times is shy and oblivious. like you and mick. but sometimes all you need is a father and a plan (with some backups!).

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 16+? (suggestive), fluff, poor humour as guaranteed, (loosely) based on the movie 'set it up', no sense of a motorhome ♡︎, mention of christian horner :(, possibly cringe, basically childhood friends to lovers trope, reader is lowkey a menace, confessions are made, toto in line for best dad award?, google translated german :0, a mess in general!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mick schumacher x wolff!fem!reader, joão felix x reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3k+

𝐀/𝐍: okay so i've been waiting for a good mick plot but nothing was coming to mind but this! this screams mick! thank you so much for your praise. hope i do them justice with this although the plot holes are there!!

𝐏.𝐒: i'm curious on how people envision themselves as wolff, horner, vettle readers, etc. if you're coloured like me, do you pretend to be adopted or from a previous relationship if it isn't specified? 😭 i mean the explanation has to be viable lmao. maybe you just don't imagine?

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄��𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆  •°.  。  .°•  ⋆

There were certain values a Wolff had. Those that were just innate.

A Wolff, more often than not, was a leader, intelligent, charismatic, good-looking, and embedded with dad jokes. Additionally, when a Wolff wanted something, they would do whatever to get it. They didn't leave any leaf unturned, they made the rounds and the effort.

It didn't make sense. You had all of those values. Yet, every time you joined the Mercedes garage, your father, Toto, found himself questioning everything.

Take now for example. He was in the beloved Mercedes garage, sat next to the best reserve driver he had ever chosen, Mick.

Parents tend to be protective of their children before they're even born. And it only amplifies after they're born. From which strangers you meet, the roads you cross, the seatbelt you have to wear to the clothes you wear, the suspiciously high phone bill and your romantic endeavours. A father's protection for his little girl was a tad bit stronger than this, special in it's own way.

Toto would do anything to protect his children, especially his little girls. And if any guy was making moves on you, right in front of him, the 'dad' side of him was just waiting to come out.

But he could only do that if someone actually made a move on you. Sure there were other guys but the one sat right next to him did nothing but shyly follow you with his blue eyes and blush in your presence.

Mick was seriously frustrating Toto and his wife. The both of them had watched the German boy watch you with heart eyes ever since the both of you had first met at the Schumacher's house for dinner. You were young back then but hell, within five minutes everyone knew that Mick was a lovesick puppy.

Years had gone by with your friendship becoming stronger. Those same years involved Mick and you being stuck to each other as if you were hip-to-hip. You attended all his races and he supported you in all your academic achievements. And oblivious to you, somewhere along the road you had also become as lovesick as he was.

Toto didn't really realise how fed up he was. He didn't want to interfere. In fact, he wanted things between the both of you to happen naturally. But he just had happen to watch the entire hour and forty-five minutes of 'Set It Up' over your shoulder instead of doing his work and he just had to do something... hell, anything.

━━━━━━━━━━━

First things first... Toto couldn't put the both of you in an elevator. At least not yet. You knew each other while the two bosses in 'Set It Up' didn't, so it didn't make much sense. You probably would never even get to the topic of your feelings. Not without a physical icebreaker of sorts.

Toto needed someone and George Russell just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"George, my boy!" Toto chorused, beckoning the British driver towards him. He slung his arm over George's shoulder, bringing him closer to him. "Do you mind doing me a favour?"

George nodded without too much thought. "Yeah sure. What is it?"

"If you see Mick and Y/N go towards an elevator, stop them and tell Y/N that a guy asked for her number, uh, who was that footballer... ah yes, João Félix, him... he did ask her yesterday right?" Toto looked over at George.

"Uh, yeah. Before you dragged her away... listen, Toto, I'm not sure I can do what you asking me to. I thought none of us were going to mess with whatever's going on between them?"

"You're young, George. One day you'll realise what 'desperate times calls for desperate measures' means. So..." Toto trailed off, eagerly looking for an answer before spotting the hesitant expression on the British driver's face. "Can I pay you do the favour?"

George blankly looked at his boss. "I'm on your payroll, Toto. You already pay me. That also sounds like extortion and bribery."

Toto's eye twitched as an exasperated sigh fell from his lips. He stared at George heavily before giving in. "Fine. You'll be out before Lewis for this week's quali."

The corner of George's mouth teetered up, working to a small grin. "Extortion and bribery... it sounds cool," He said with a nonchalant shrug.

Toto shook his head to himself. "You can try and be less British, George. Just because your ancestors colonised doesn't mean you need to take the same behaviour," He patted his shoulder before leaving, feeling George's confused expression bore into the back of his head.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Toto was a great man. But today was one of those days where George really did question him. Part of him was praying that he didn't see you and Mick head to an elevator. The scenario was so specific that well... the probability was low.

There was no way he was going to see it happen. Not even 30 minutes after he had this conversation and he had just grabbed a coffee and was now heading to Alex...

But the peak of that blonde hair and the familiar shine of your signature glasses caught George's eye. Christ.

"How is that possible?" He muttered to himself, eyeing the both of you as you waited for the elevator to go up the Mercedes' motorhome.

First in quali. Come on, George. You got this!

"Hey guys," George greeted the both of you.

You and Mick turned to him and smiled. "Hey George. How's it going? Ready for practice?"

George nodded absentmindedly. "Yeah, yeah. Good, thanks. Uh, I was just wondering about yesterday... João? Since Toto dragged you away before you could do anything but he was just wondering if you would still consider giving him your number."

George pressed his lips, seeing Mick's eyes narrow from his peripheral vision. God how had the both of you not gotten together yet?

"I didn't know João asked you that?" Mick looked at you with questioning eyes.

You blinked, feeling your heart skip a beat slightly. You weren't sure why Mick's interest was to intriguing to you all of a sudden. You pursed your lips, looking to George. "Oh? I didn't know you knew João like that."

"I... don't. It's... Kika! Kika knows him... you know... Portugal things," He laughed awkwardly, giving a helpless shrug.

"Right..." You nodded slowly. "Uh, I don't know. I mean was considering it, I guess."

"You were?" George and Mick spluttered out in unison.

Your eyes widened at their reaction. "I mean, yeah... kinda?" You rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly.

George could see the German driver's head racing a hundred miles per hour. It was time to get out of this mess.

"Okay, well, if you consider it, you could probably DM him on Instagram. Don't ask Kika!" George quickly said. "I mean... you know, she gets very excited to play cupid... anyways, I have to get back to Dudley, but let me know how it goes!"

You and Mick waved goodbye, heading onto the elevator after what felt like forever.

As the doors closed, you looked over at your thought-consumed best friend. "Penny for your thoughts, Mr Schumacher?" You humoured.

Mick briefly smiled before returning to his brooding state. He folded his arms, leaned on the wall of the elevator and stared at you.

Your mouth felt dry and yet you were drowning in your own saliva. There were certain things that weren't healthy for humans: too much sugar, high cholesterol foods, and apparently air-drying your hair. And then there was too much Mick.

The folded arms and his stupid shirt brought your eyes to the muscles you had so desperately been avoiding after Mick had started to work out even more in the past year.

You cleared your throat, trying to think of another topic of discussion.

In your pondering, Mick opened his mouth. "I don't think you should give João your number," He said, bringing his hands to his side, discreetly allowing the fabric of his shorts to soak up his clammy hands.

Your eyes flickered towards his face. You raised brow. "What? Why?" You asked, feeling an uneasy ache gnaw at your chest.

"I..." Mick started, "I mean what if he's a bad guy? You know... I wouldn't want you to get hurt."

Your heart dropped. You felt like an deflating balloon: all blown up, only to be taken down. You mustered a soft smile. "I mean, you can't protect me forever Mick. What are you going to do? Vet the guy on the day of my wedding," You joked.

Mick frowned at your response. The image of you marrying someone that wasn't him was disheartening.

"I won't need to if you get married to someone you know," He shrugged. "You don't know João. You know me."

Oh?

Oh.

You almost did a double-take on your best friend. Did he know what words were falling from his lips. "So what? He's kinda cute. And a five-star FIFA player. I could take the risk. And eventually, I would know him... since that's how relationships work... communication and all," You defended the footballer.

Mick stared at you for a few seconds before blinking out of his short trance. "Right..." He said sharply, pushing himself off of the wall as the elevator opened. He struck out his arm, holding back the door. "You go on. I just remembered I need to talk to Toto."

You flickered your eyes to Mick, trying to read his face. "That's fine, we can go togeth–"

"No," Mick interjected, "it's... it's okay."

Upon the slight widening of your eyes and the startled expression lingering on your face, Mick's innate action was to internally wince. "I'll join you soon. Don't worry. I bring your favourite pastry on the way back, hmm?"

You nodded silently, taking a step out of the elevator and headed towards the lounge with a troubled feeling nagging at your head.

Had you struck a nerve?

━━━━━━━━━━━

Toto couldn't tell what he had done wrong. You and Mick were fine this morning. But after he had told George to push things along between the both of you, a sense of distance radiated off of you.

And George still got out before Lewis for the first quali. Goddamn it.

When Toto raised an eyebrow at you after Mick had slightly brushed you off to talk to Bono, you simply shrugged helplessly.

That night Toto did not get a wink of sleep. Instead, he stared at this hotel ceiling with a twitching eye.

There was nothing he couldn't fix. Whatever was going on between you and Mick right now was just a small bump in the road.

The solution?

A baseball game.

Unfortunately for Toto, baseball wasn't that popular in Brazil. But that didn't mean they didn't do them.

The plan was going perfectly. Toto had offered a 'family day' and gotten you and Mick to join him and Susie to attend a local baseball match between some of university teams. Toto made sure you and Mick were sitting behind him so you had all the privacy you needed. As a dad, he shouldn't be that happy about kiss-cam, let alone bribing the camera operators with the help of Pierre and Kika. But he wanted peace and he was going to get it.

But nothing was easy in life. And Toto could not have predicted this in a million years.

As everyone waited for the game to start, Toto timidly turned his head. He caught the brown eyes of the five-star FIFA player. Giving him a hesitant smile, he averted his own eyes back to the field, cursing himself under his breath. "Scheiße," He muttered through his clenched teeth. Shit.

The tension in the air was thick, to say the least. You sat between João and Mick with blank expression.

João, who was in town for the F1 race, decided to stay back to support a friend in the match. Obviously.

When the footballer on your right extended his hand to Mick, you sucked in a sharp breath. You heavily eyed the firmest handshake you had seen in your life. Letting out a nervous laugh, you sat down before the gesture turned into hardcore glaring.

Still, there was the hope of this kiss-cam.

Toto waited with little patience, hearing João crack jokes in Portuguese that actually made you laugh while Mick took deeper breaths.

It felt like life itself had been poured into Toto once the kiss-cam started on the public. This mattered to him more than whoever was going to win this match.

Toto's face dropped as the camera fell on you.

Your mother pointed at the camera with a gleeful exclamation. Your eyes moved to the screen, widening when you saw yourself and the man next to you.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Toto exasperated quietly.

You turned your head to the right, meeting the equally shocked brown eyes.

"In what way does he look like 'a blonde boy with the face of the greatest racer in F1 history'?" Toto said into his hands, shaking his head slowly.

Mick looked blankly at you and João on the screen before turning to you. He watched you shake your head softly, smiling awkwardly at the camera as the crowd urged you to kiss.

"Oh mein Gott," You murmured to yourself, eyes darting around in panic. Oh my God.

Suddenly, you felt Mick lean in, his fingers sliding under your chin and resting on your cheek. He turned your head slightly towards him.

Your eyes widened upon meeting his baby blues, feeling unnerving giddiness swarm you. You hoped your face screamed, "What are you doing?!"

All Mick did give a small smile, bringing his lips towards you.

Instinctively, your eyes closed, bracing yourself whatever was about to happen. All you could hope for was that this was all a dream of some sort. Maybe you fell asleep in the car?

You skin flushed at the feel of Mick's soft lips on your cheek. Your eyes fluttered open, feeling him linger for a second longer before pulling back.

What on earth?

You weren't sure if you were breathing as you felt his hand move to your leg, covering your hand and giving it a small squeeze. You moved your eyes to the screen. Mick looked unbothered while the crowd erupted in cheers and boos. You, on the other hand, looked flushed.

And Toto?

The urge to run around with his hands flailing in the air was strong.

This was a home run, for crying out loud!

Whoever said jealousy was a disease... thank you!

━━━━━━━━━━━

"Liebling, du solltest jetzt rauskommen," Your mother said to you through the bathroom stall you had been hiding in for the past five minutes. Darling, you should come out now.

You winced as you banged your head against the wall of the stall. You sighed. "I don't think I can. Do you think you can convince the staff the bring a bed? Maybe some food?"

Your mother snorted. "What are you going to do? Live here?"

"Ja. War das nicht offensichtlich?" You retorted, eyes screwing themselves shut after replaying the kiss in your head for the umpteenth time. Yes. Was that not obvious?

Susie sighed, awkwardly smiling at a woman leaving the bathroom. "Y/N... it's Mick. You can't ignore him forever. How long do you think it will truly take for Mick and your father to storm in here after not seeing you for so long?"

You sighed at your mother's response. She was. As always.

The last thing you needed was a headline on ESPN: Toto Wolff and Mick Schumacher caught barging into a women's bathroom.

Christian would have a field day!

You shuddered at the thought.

Susie's ears perked up at your grumble as you fumbled with the lock of the stall. She sported an amused smile at the blank look you gave her.

Slinging an arm around you, she rubbed your shoulder. "Come on, liebling. You got this."

━━━━━━━━━━━

"Oh thank God!" Toto exclaimed after seeing you and your mother come out of the bathroom. "You took forever!"

You narrowed your eyes at your father, avoiding the lingering eyes of a certain German boy. "Maybe next time you shouldn't feed me a hotdog at a baseball game, right?" You pressed with a raised brow.

"Hmm?" Toto mended his brows before nodding profusely. "Right! Right! Yes... that was my bad. Poor thing... you know, Mick, with Y/N being sick and all, I think you should drop her to the hotel. Me and Susie still have a date to go on!"

You and your mother looked at Toto increduolously.

"We do?"

"You do?"

Toto nodded, grabbing your mother's hand. "Yes! Okay, see you two! Tschüss!" Bye!

With a jaw-dropping expression, you watched your parents leave with a twitching eye.

You heard Mick clear his throat.

Slowly, you turned around with a small smile. Fiddling with your fingers, "So..."

Mick rubbed the back of his neck nervously, a small tinge of pink dancing across his cheeks. "The hotel?" He asked, swinging his keys around the his index finger.

Silently, you both walked out of the stadium and towards the car park.

You furrowed your brows upon seeing the orange and pink laden sky. "What the heck? How is the sun already setting?"

"I mean... you were in there for a long time," Mick shrugged.

The crisp summer evening breeze glided past your flushed skin. Your body winced at the paining silence ensuing between the both of you. You let out a small exhale. "Uh, with the thing before–"

"Yeah?" Mick eagerly turned his body towards you, on edge.

You cleared your throat at the anxious expression Mick sported. "You sighed. "Uh, that was to like... save me, right? Aus Verlegenheit? Danke für das." From embarrassment? Thank you for that.

Mick mended his eyebrows. "Verlegenheit? No. I... that was so you didn't kiss João."

You laughed nervously. "Right! So I didn't have to kiss João."

"No. So you didn't kiss João. There's a difference," Mick pointed out, eyeing your expression carefully.

Your eyes widened at his suddenly soft gaze. You looked up at the sky, hoping the breeze would cool the wave of warmth swirling around you. "That's... that's what I said," You shrugged.

Mick stepped in front of you, forcing you to look at him instead of the sky. "Why do you do that?" Mick asked.

"Do what?" You responded.

"I mean... I–just why do you have such a hard time admitting that I like you?"

You wish you had something to say. Anything. But it was as if the ability to speak had been seized from your throat entirely.

"I mean I know I don't make it obvious. I just thought we had some sort of understanding... you know... the one without words?"

You looked up into his hopeful eyes. Entranced, you leaned in towards him. Your fingers danced across his cheek just the way he had done not so long ago. You watched his eyes close at the feel of your touch, making your heart thud against your chest.

Inching closer, your thumb gently swiped over his lips, feeling his faltering exhale warm the pad of your thumb. "So pretty," You whispered to yourself, eyeing his face.

Mick wasn't sure whether you were talking about him or his lips but he didn't care.

You shuddered, feeling Mick's hand slide around your waist, bringing you closer to him.

Without waiting a second longer, you pressed your lips to his.

Mick's lips were softer than you had imagined, warm to the touch. Your stomach churned upon feeling his fingers skate under the hem of your shirt, rubbing tingling circles on your hot skin.

You hear an unrecognisable breathy gasp fall from your lips. The hair on your body stood straight as goosebumps littered your skin. All because of Mick.

Mick took advantage of the moment, darting his tongue to explore your mouth. He groaned against your lips, pushing your hips even closer to him, feeling the hard outline of his bulge rub against your pelvis.

Fuck.

You were going to combust at this rate.

Mick trembled in your grasp as your hands wandered his taut torso, lingering closely to his v-line.

He pulled away with an indescribable urgency, staring at you with small pants falling from his lips. He held your face with his hand, thumb gliding across your swollen lips. "We can't–" He sighed out, voice hoarse, "No more. Please."

Your thighs clenched at his plea, eyes falling down to his prominent bulge. You were sure he was in a lot of pain right now. The sexual tension between you to had been pent up for years now.

Your tongue darted out, swiping over his thumb briefly before faintly sucking on it. You looked up at Mick. "You're right, we shouldn't," You nonchalantly told him.

Mick's blue eyes danced with a tortured pain, following your tongue carefully. "We... fuck, Y/N," He complained, feeling impossibly tight in his pants.

"We fuck? Direct much?" You teased, removing your lips from his thumb.

Mick stared at you, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. "I was saying... we should do this properly. Not in some parking lot."

"Why not? Car sex is hot. Just imagine!" You urged, amused by the conflict in Mick's eyes.

Imagine he did.

You and him in his God forbidden Mercedes... him making sure every inch of his car was stained with you...

Mick sucked in a sharp breath. "Nope. Come on. Hotel."

You gasped humorously. "In a hotel? Mick Schumacher! Well I never!"

Before you knew it, Mick had whisked you into his arms and into his car, hoping he was not breaking Brazil's speed limits tonight.

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

#mickyschumacher #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher x you #mick schumacher #formula 1

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hmm I wonder if Crowley and the school staff, Riddle, Dence, Ruggie, Azul, Jamil, Epel, Rook, Idia, Malleus, Sliver and Sebek found out that some certain people skipped the school and went to the amusement park? Also how would they react?

I’d imagine they'd mostly have the pretty normal and expected initial reaction of being shocked that the others snuck out on a school night to a sketchy theme park and managed to come back from a human trafficking operation in one piece. To give a little more detail to each:

Riddle would collar Trey, Cater, and Ace, then lecture them for breaking various school rules, putting themselves in danger, disobeying his command to not sneak out and skip school, etc. He especially lays into the seniors for "not setting a proper example" for the Heartslabyul students.

Deuce awkwardly stands off to the side and watches as they get berated, occasionally nodding and going, "That's right!" in response to their dorm leader. (Ace gets annoyed and tells Deuce off, probably saying something like, "Don't act like YOU weren't interested in going earlier, dummy!")

Ruggie wails about how he would've enjoyed hanging out at a place that offers free everything. He makes jokes to cope with the situation, like poking fun at how the "straight-laced" Jack has a rebellious streak and how Leona's soooo responsible and selfless for chasing after his juniors. Ruggie also jokes about how he's glad his walking wallet "best" employer Leona-san made it back safely... and hey, he wouldn't have happened to have brought back a souvenir for his ever-so loyal hench-hyena, would he?

Azul tries to present as cool and uncaring to the twins; he tells them that if they fucked up and lost their autonomy because of their poor decisions and giving into their curiosity... well, that's their bad and they deserve the consequences of their actions. Jade and Floyd pal around with him, draping themselves over his shoulders and teasing him about how "It's okaaay, just admit that you missed us, admit that you were worried!" Deep down, Azul really was (but he'll never say that out loud and let the twins have an upper hand over him).

Jamil has a fucking heart attack knowing just how close he was to a dead and/or missing Kalim. Not because he cares or anything, but because his own ass would be grass if anything happened to Kalim. Jamil looks him over like five times to make sure not a hair on his head is harmed (all while Kalim is laughing, reassuring Jamil that he's fine, and telling him stories about all the fun times he had at Playful Land). When Kalim starts to suggest inviting Fellow and Gidel to their next banquet, Jamil silences him with a firm, "ABSOLUTELY NOT!!"

Rook waxes poetic about how he's so relieved that their beautiful Vil has returned to them. He'll faithfully fetch Vil whatever he needs to rest and recover from such a heart-pounding adventure!

Epel grumbles about how he wishes he could have gone too ("'N shown those puppets what fer!!"), only to get bonked and told off by his dorm leader. (Ace will tell him stories later, which makes Epel super envious.)

Idia tells Ortho that "touching grass" does them no good, it only brings misery and suffering like what he went through at Playful Land! The worry dies down and is replaced with keen interest the more Ortho tells him about the island's operations. They have a jammer that prevented Ortho's normal functions from working? Idia takes it as a personal challenge--who do they think they are, trying to trump this genius inventor? He'll show them what he's made of by powering up his little brother!

Sebek loudly insists they need to go and dismantle the shadowy organization responsible for attempting something so foolish as to entrap and sell THE Lilia Vanrouge off! Who do they think they are?! Man's absolutely appalled and enraged but also choking back tears at what he perceives is Lilia's nobility, so willing to throw himself into the heat of battle to save others!! Sebek tells Ace he should be "grateful" that Lilia saw it fit to save "such a pathetic lot of humans" from absolute destruction.

Silver frets over his father, but he's ultimately proud of him for acting the role of a reliable senpai and looking out for his underclassmen. (This is the reason he assumes for Lilia going to the shady park.) And, of course, he's glad to have his father back home with him. He insists on looking after him the day of his return, saying that Lilia has gone through a lot lately--and as the triumphant hero, he deserves to relax!

Malleus isn't worried about Lilia (he knows that Lilia can handle himself just fine) so much as he's disappointed that he wasn't invited to go along. He's curious about all that Lilia experienced in Playful Land and listens to his tales with wide eyes. Malleus is not really paying attention to the dangers present (after all, he is confident he could blow it all away if it dares to encroach on his autonomy). Lilia laughs and says they should take a trip to another amusement park sometime.

The staff would be collectively sad that their students would act out like they have. This is especially true of Trein, who is more disappointed than mad. He chastises the boys in a way that makes you feel bad for making like... a grandfather upset. He wonders if he has somehow mentored his students incorrectly or instilled the wrong values in them.

Crewel expresses his disappointment in a different way. He's harsher with his students: "Since you bad boys thought it fit to skip Crewel-sama's lecture, you must have already mastered the materials. Pencils out for a pop quiz!" That's his tough love out on full display, stemming from the desire to ensure that his students can survive on their own out there in the cruel wide world.

Vargas tries to not linger on the negative feelings for too long. He'll encourage the boys to get back on their feet and moving. Movement means more blood circulation, and less of a reminder of the stiff puppets the kids almost turned out to be. Vargas never vocalizes his intentions for fear that him having a negative outlook might influence his students. So instead, he wears a grin and belts out a hearty laugh to keep their spirits high.

Sam will listen to his customers' woes, just as any good shopkeep would! There's a lot of useful information to pick apart from the people who drift in. A strange business like Playful Land? It piques Sam's interest in the mysterious and the unknown--he's delighted with such fantastical tales, and invites his customers to tell more. Sam's always here to lend an ear! And hey, if you get thirsty from all the gabbing, why not buy a drink from the Mystery Shop since you're already there? :)

Crowley wipes his brow and sighs in relief... What could have been a massive PR nightmare was just narrowly avoided!! (He still crows at the students that snuck off though, since he's suuuuuch a caring instructor that deeply cares about their education!!)

#twst #twisted wonderland #Azul Ashengrotto #Malleus Draconia #Riddle Rosehearts #Deuce Spade #Ruggie Bucchi #Jamil Viper #Epel Felmier #Rook Hunt #Idia Shroud #Silver #Sebek Zigvolt #NRC Staff #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #notes from the writing raven #question #spoilers #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #Heartslabyul #Octavinelle #Savanaclaw #Scarabia #Pomefiore #Ignihyde #Diasomnia #Fellow Honest #Gidel

[angelizs]

[Club activities - part 1]

Summary: Crowley insists you join one of the school's clubs, even though your schedule is already full. Having no other choice, you oblige, on one condition: you'll attend a meeting of each club before deciding which one you'll join. As expected, shenanigans ensue.

Notes: gn!reader, humor, it's kinda long, reader is oblivious, mentions of minor injuries but in a funny way dw, I had to research about horse management and now you'll know about it too

Part: 1 (you're here!) / 2.0 / 2.5 (soon!)

"Do I really have to do this? Isn't it enough that I already am your unnoficial errand runner, Grim's babysitter, Ramshackle's prefect and have to deal with an overblot a month on top of whatever insanity the students decide to put me through while I try to keep my grades up to not lose my scholarship?"

You really hoped he would listen to reason, after all, you already have way more than enough on your plate. As it is, he obviously didn't hear to a word you said. How unfortunate. 

"Of course it's most crucial you participate in a club! As a model educator, I must set an example for my peers. How would it look if one of my students didn't partake in such an important school activity?"

Crowley looks agravated by the mere idea. You deadpan at him. He stares back at you. Grim snoozes in the background. 

"Well, which one will it be?"

You sigh, as if the weight of the world was in your shoulders.

"...Can I see the list, at least?"

Crowley smiles, his whole demeanor changing as soon as he got what he wanted. You brace yourself for what is to come, knowing it will be a headache.

After taking a look at your options, you decide to go in one meeting of each before choosing one to join. You could just randomly pick one and be done with it, but since you're already being forced to do this, you should do something you enjoy.

The headmaster gives you a genial smile and agrees on your conditions, telling you how kind he is for doing so and how it will be great for your education. You glare at him, defeated.

Better start sooner than later, right?

Spelldrive Club (Leona, Ruggie, Epel)

Good news, you've played spelldrive before, so you're not entirely lost!

You keep that in mind as you arrive at the field. It's pretty intimidating, with most of the players being thugs from Savanaclaw that look like they could fold you in half like a twig. You scurry to Epel's side.

He's surprised you decided to participate in a meeting, but really happy as well since it's a chance to show off his manliness to you. You chat for a bit as you wait for Leona, the captain, to arrive. Ruggie eventually joins you both, cracking some joke about your unexpected attendance and having a new member on the team.

Once Leona arrives, he looks just as grumpy as usual, but his ears are perked up and he's scanning the field as if looking for something. And it seems he finds it once his eyes land on you, leading him to your little group's direction.

Crowley had the decency of telling him in advance about your test drive of the club, but Leona warns you he won't allow you to slack off just because it's your first day. You're surprised he even bothered to tell you this, as you imagined he would be as unenthusiastic as he is about his normal classes. It seems he has high expectations for you. Epel and Ruggie look startled as well, but wisely keep their mouths shut.

Everyone did light stretchs and got their brooms, ready to play. It was... intense. You already expected it from what little experience you had from the tornament, not to mention that by being magicless you had a limited range of moves you could pull, but it seemed Leona was a strict leader when it came to the sport. 

That, or he wanted to show off today for some reason. According to one of Epel's snide remarks, Leona is usually more laid back than he was being. You couldn't help but worry it had something to do with you, so you kept your head low and tried to follow the best you could, least he screamed at you as well. Besides, his complaints did sound reasonable, even if he was blunt and kind of rude about them, so it was good he was so motivated!

And he wasn't the only one. Epel was giving his all, pulling stunts left and right to get points. You were amazed by his ability, since you've never seen him play before, you had no idea he was this good! Your gaze would wander to wherever he was and you could swear you felt him staring back sometimes, though he turned his head away too fast for you to confirm it.

Even so, he wasn't safe from blundering his play eventually. After marking a point, he turned in your direction, confident that you've been watching, chest puffed out proudly. Only to be met with your panicked look as you tried to signal for him to look behind. One of the players from Savanaclaw shoved him then, almost dropping him from his broom. Luckly, Epel managed to catch himself just in time to avoid an accident, making you sigh relieved, your clammy hands readjusting their grip on your own broom, heart beating wildly on your chest. Leona screamed at both of you for being distracted, but he glared harder at Epel.

Ruggie was another one set on impressing you with his techniques, doing dangerous tricks on his broom while in midair. You knew he was very good, he was the one you went against on the first time you played, after all, but still cheered on his tricks. His cheeky smile stayed firm on his face, growing at every compliment you threw his way. His tail was wagging behind him, but you didn't have to know that.

The thing is, if he started to pay too much attention on you to gauge your reactions, he got distracted from the game going on around him. On more than one occasion he was almost throw out while dangling on his broom with only his feet, somehow managing to get his balance back everytime. Leona looked ready to burst a blood vessel when it happened, you had a feeling he was going to be extra annoying to Ruggie for the rest of the week.

All in all, you couldn't do much, so you stayed at the sidelines watching your friends play. You were sweating all over, the scorching sun shining above you. Did you remember to use sunscreen? You closed your eyes and took one arm off your broom to wipe out some sweat from your brow, distracted. You were pretty tired. The shouting went on at the background. You had the impression your friends were calling your name. As soon as you were going to turn to their direction and see what it was that they wanted, everything went black and you lost consciousness.

You woke up at the infirmary, having a feeling of deja vu. Why whenever you tried to play spelldrive something had to happen? Epel, Ruggie and Leona were by your bedside, looking worried, upset or annoyed. They explained a disk went out of course and ended up hitting you at the back of your head, causing you to pass out. 

Ruggie proudly announced he was the first one to react and caught you just in time, before you hit the ground. Epel added that he helped Ruggie bring you to the infirmary and that Leona went off on everyone at the field for not catching the damned disk. Leona just huffed and pretended to not care, but you could tell he did just from how he stayed waiting for you to wake up.

As sweet as that little moment was, you didn't want a repeat of what happened and felt spelldrive wasn't really for you. Time to check out other clubs. 

(Epel excitedly asks for you to come and watch another pratice some time. Ruggie backs him up and pulls his puppy eyes on you. Leona looks like he would like that as well but stays silent, staring at you expectantly, ears perked up. You end up agreeing, not wanting to crush their enthusiasm. It seems they really enjoyed having you over. Not sure if the rest of the team could say the same, but a glare from Leona will shut them up if they dare to bother you.)

Equestrian Club (Riddle, Silver, Sebek)

There were horses on campus!? How come you never met one before? Time to rectify that!

You couldn't remember if you ever rode a horse before or not. Well, surely everything would turn out alright, since some of the most responsible people were on this club. Surely.

Riddle was the one that greeted you and showed you around the stables. There was a huge area dedicated to them, with all the horses having their own section and a fenced space reserved for riding them. They were all very well taken care of, as Riddle made sure to tell you about some of his duties as a member of the club. He even took you to meet his horse and taught you how to pet it!

You also met Sebek and Silver tending to their horses and talked with them a bit. Sebek expressed his diligence as always, talking loudly about his passion for the sport and how he would definitly make his Lord proud of his work. Silver was less overwhelming and seemed gentler surrounded by animals like that, as he told you softly that he was glad you showed interest in their club and how he hoped you'd enjoy it.

After such a warm welcome, you had your hopes high for this club! (Especially after what happened at spelldrive pratice). It didn't involve any magic either, so you could do everything just fine. All was well, until you were assigned a horse to tend for the day.

There was only one horse available, so you didn't have much of a choice, really. It was a beautiful white horse that truly looked straight out of a fairytale, with it's elegant aura and thick mane. If only it's temper could match it's appearence. It was one of the most petulant equines you've ever seen. It took a while for it to even let you get closer without trying to bite your hand off.

Silver said it still didn't have a name and Riddle told you that since you were it's handler for the day, you should name it. You decided to name it Maximus. Sebek liked the name, loudly approving it. Maximus seemed pretty content as well, so you patted yourself on the back for scoring one point with him.

The first thing you were going to do before actually riding him was to groom him. You decided to watch how your friends did it and mimick their actions. Riddle handed you a bucket with different brushes that you had no idea what should be used for. Sebek secured Maximus for you, saying it was to make sure he wouldn't move around while you tried to take care of him. Silver helped you two get acquainted, making sure you knew basic safety instructions.

You grab a round rubber comb, watching Riddle rub circles on his horse's side with a firm hold. Starting on Maximus' left side, you hesitantly bring the comb in contact with his fur, watching as he gives you a nasty side eye. You weakly start your sweeps, careful to not hurt him or press on a tender spot. Riddle tells you to use more pressure in order to remove the dirt from his coat. You increase your strenght as he nods approvingly. Just as he's about to turn back to his own work, he sees you sliding the brush down Maximus' shoulders and to his legs, his tail swishing in warning. He manages to pull you back just in time before Maximus closes his jaw where your hand was mere moments ago. Your arm trembles and your eyes are wide as he explains which areas are sensitive and that you'd better avoid them.

After using a stiff brush that reminded you of a broom to knock out the dirt you had loosened, being extra careful on the areas Riddle mentioned, you grab a soft brush. You feel dread pool on your stomach as you watch Silver kneel down to tend to his horse's legs. You stare at Maximus, hoping he would let you do the same, but you swear his expression is one that says 'I dare you to try and see what happens'. You gulp but still get down to it, better get it done as soon as possible. The front legs go swimmingly, the back ones not so much. As you're almost getting finished you accidently press on a sore spot. Maximus loudly neighs, stamps his foot and raises his knee, causing you to fall on your behind, surprised and very much still in hitting range. You were pretty sure that was it, you were going to infirmary again with the worst concussion ever known to man. Thankfully, Silver had noticed it just in time to drag you away, holding you by your armpits like a misbehaving kitten. Your knees feel weak, so you stay on the ground with a racing heart as you watch Silver calm Maximus down.

The next step was to clean Maximus' hooves. Anyone with half a brain cell could sense it was a bad idea to leave you to it, so you stayed back while Sebek did the cleaning. He didn't to it quietly though, he made sure to shout every step so you'd learn how to do it at a later date. You couldn't even find it in yourself to be mad at his condescending tone, too grateful for him helping you out. You thank him sincerely as he pauses mid rant. He stares at you with his mouth open, as if he had short circuited. Sebek stays strangely quiet for the next few minutes, not making eye contact with you but trying to steal glances your way without you noticing. Maximus huffs and it sounds mocking, somehow. 

To finish it up, you comb Maximus' mane, untangling it carefully, finding it surprisingly relaxing and by far the best part of this whole thing. When brushing his tail, you make sure to stand by his side, not behind, to avoid almost being kicked again. You look proudly at your work as Maximus flaunts himself. Riddle, Silver and Sebek compliment your efforts, making you smile sincerely despite being pretty sure Maximus hates your guts and has cursed your entire bloodline in his mind.

Finally, the time has come. You're going to actually ride the horse now!

That is, if you manage to mount it first. 

You try to mount Maximus' by his right side, but he doesn't budge. Plus, he's too tall for you to reach properly. He stares at you. You're sure he's laughing at your misery. Silver, bless him, comes to your aid. He hands you a safety helmet and calmly checks if the saddle is well secured with the girth and all buckles are fastened. He offers you his hand and you take it, letting him guide you to Maximus' left side as he explains just how to get up. He looks very princely like this, talking almost excitedly... or, well, as excited as Silver gets. He doesn't look like he's about to fall asleep, so that must count for something, and there's a rare smile on his face. He must really like his club. And the horses seem to like him just fine as well. Way too fine, actually, since they insist in interrupting him as he talks, demanding his attention. His horse smacks it's tail on your face as it nuzzles on Silver's hand. Maximus neighs amused, that bastard.

You thank Silver and let him get to his own activities, not wanting to take more of his time. He leaves, but his smile dropped and he looked almost disappointed. You wonder what that was about. Either way, you go find a steeping stool to help you mount Maximus. Riddle goes with you, insisting in supervising everything to make sure you won't have any problems. He holds Maximus' face to make sure he will stay quiet for you to mount him like Silver taught you to. As soon as you're seated Riddle withdraws from proximity, letting Maximus have some space. However, before you get time to grip the reins, Maximus takes off, leaving you to desperately hold onto his neck as he runs around. Riddle goes after the two of you, trying to stop him while you hold your screams in. After a full minute of this, Maximus suddenly stops, making you let go of your grip on him and fall to the side. Riddle fusses over you, making sure you're not badly hurt while reprimanding the horse for the stunt he pulled. 

You do feel sore all over, but refuse to back down. You're not going to let Maximus have the last laugh. You thank Riddle for his help and let him go back to his horse, assuring him you'll be fine. He checks on you once more to make sure you're ok before going, looking behing his shoulder as if you were about to fall again. You smile reassuringly. His face turns red like his hair and he scurries away. You take Maximus back to where you left the steeping stool, determined to mount him and actually stay there this time.

Sebek notices your struggle and decides to graciously help you once more. Maximus squirms around but eventually the two of you make him stay in place while you mount him. Sebek keeps his hand on Maximus while you adjust your footing and organize the reins. Once you're ready, you nudge Maximus with your lower leg, encouraging him to start walking. Sebek insists on being close the entire time, making corrections to your position and moviments, such as keeping your back straight and looking forward. Even with his harsh soldier like tone, you begin enjoying the ride and compliment him on his ability as a teacher, stating how much of an exceptional rider he must be. Sebek blushes and starts stuttering, words getting mixed up with one another. Without his clear instructions you start having a rockier time with reining Maximus, but he manages to not blunder his words too much when telling you how to halt and to dismount your horse.

At the end of pratice you're sweaty, covered in mud and sore all over. It was fun some times, but you rather not have to worry for your life at every meeting (the overblots and dealing with your friends antics was already more than enough life threatning excitement for you). You also feel you should steer clear from the stables, just in case Maximus tries to commit his revenge on you. Time to check out other clubs.

(The boys insist you only need some more practice, that you have potential, that Maximus will warm up to you. They are very earnest when telling you they enjoyed having you over, even if they had to keep an eye on you the whole time to make sure you wouldn't get hurt. When they ask you to come by another time, you can't say no. You suppose you do owe them one for all their help. They ligthen up when you agree, so you can't bring yourself to regret it, even if you know you'll have to deal Maximus once again.)

Basketball Club (Ace, Floyd, Jamil)

Oh, this is Ace's club, right? And it's a normal non-magical sport as well. Let's give it a try!

The first person to greet you is, obviously, one of your closest friends (and cause of your daily headaches), Ace. He had bragged to you about his ability in playing basketball before, something about being the best freshmen in the team and even Riddle complimenting him on his skill. He teases you, asking if you'll be able to keep up with him, which earns him an eyeroll and a friendly punch on the shoulder.

You quickly remember who else Ace mentioned being on the team as soon as you hear a loud voice call for 'Shrimpy' and two arms squeezing the air out of you. Of course, Floyd was overenthusiastic about your participation, telling you how your presence would surely make things interesting and how this class was starting to get boring so it was good to have something new added to it. You're not sure how to react so you reply telling him you'll do your best (and praying he'd let you go before you run out of air). Floyd stares at you for a bit, taken aback from such an earnest answer, before squeezing you even harder for being so cute. Ace comes to the rescue, saving you from passing out before the class could even start.

You also find another familiar face on the team, Jamil. You thank whatever higher being that was out there looking out for you for sending a sane person to keep you company. It seems Jamil shares the sentiment, as you start a light conversation about the club that ends up being more about Jamil complaining that he had to deal with Kalim's shenanigans his entire life and the only moment he's alone he has to babysit Ace and Floyd, least they cause a disaster and the rest of the team is blamed for it. You sympathize with him, promising to do your part in the babysitting duty for the day. Jamil looks really relieved as he thanks you.

Before pratice, just like in Spelldrive, you did light stretches, competing with Ace to see who can reach their feet when bending down or who can stay longer balancing on one leg. Everyone got separated in duos to train some passes before actually playing. Scattering across the gym, each at one end of the room, you and Ace threw the ball between yourselves. He always had some cheeky comment to make about your lack of skill, which only motivated you to throw the ball harder at his direction, technique be damned. All the while you had to be careful to avoid stray shots from the others around you. Perhaps you should have brought the safety helmet from the Equestrian club.

Floyd and Jamil (he must have been dragged into this, being one of the only ones able to handle Floyd) were right next to where your duo was. They both were obviously skilled, doing tricks with the ball to show off. You were actually pretty impressed as you observed them, so much so that you miscalculated your shot and instead of sending the ball to hit Ace, it went at Floyd's direction. As Floyd was busy annoying the closest student to his side, he only noticed the ball right before it hit him, too late to stop it. 

Thankfully his skull was thick enough that not even a basketball hitting him managed to hurt, though it did leave quite an impressive red mark on his face. Ace swore and scurried away from Floyd's other side, Jamil pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, you felt your heart drop. The student that previously had Floyd's attention took the opportunity to run away, leaving the four of you in this stalemate. Even with all the activity around, you could only focus on the way Floyd raised his eyes to meet your frightened ones, an impassive expression on his face and your basketball on his hand.

Instead of a frown and the deeper tone of voice you expected (alongside the promise of pain in your future), you were met with a wide grin, sharp teeth at full display, and a high pitched giggle. You didn't know which was worse. Either way, you felt like a prey caught in it's predator radar. Floyd told you that if you wanted to play so bad, he'd be happy to play with you! Ace was planning your funeral already.

And so, what was supposed to be a simple exercise of passing the ball became an impromptu game of dodgeball in which if you were hit, instead of being out you gained a concussion and a trip to the infirmary. Somehow, Ace and Jamil got roped into it as well, the three of you running around to avoid being hit by one of the deathly bullets Floyd threw at you. After noticing it, the club leader announced they could stop for a short break before picking out the teams for a game, in the hopes it would distract the eelmer enough to make him stop.

It worked, since the prospect of 'playing another game with shrimpy' made Floyd get excited to get you on his team. You sighed in relief, a bit out of breath. You and Ace sprawled yourselves at the floor to rest, not caring about how dirty it may be, your legs needed to lay down for a while. He turned his head at your direction and said it was your fault for having such bad aim. You replied with how it was his fault for being so bad at teaching you. You have a stare down that ends in both bursting into laughter.

Jamil and some other second year were the ones choosing the teams. He smiled mischievously, the same smile he had when he was planning something. Jamil could be the calmer one between your options, but that didn't mean he wouldn't cause trouble as well. In the end, you stayed on Jamil's team while Floyd and Ace were on the other. Floyd pouted and whined about how he had wanted to play in the same team as you and Ace seemed a bit miffed (you weren't sure if it was because he ended up against you or because he was with Floyd). Jamil had a very self satisfied smile on his face as he told you which formation your team would use. He sent a smug smirk to the others when you weren't looking.

You were wondering what kind of stunt Floyd would put to get what he wanted, but once the game started he just... didn't do anything. Jamil, on the other hand, was quick to catch the ball and take it to the other side of the court, dodging Ace's attempts at stopping him, jumping high and scoring some points. You were in awe, you had no idea Jamil was this good! As he went to your side with a self-satisfied expression in face, you showered him in compliments, saying how fast he ran and how high he jumped and how he looked really cool! While the smile stayed on his face, it seemed softer, and Jamil wouldn't look you in the eyes, murmuring something that you didn't catch about this being his strategy to win by having you on his side.

As the game went on you managed to get the hang of it, actually enjoying playing! Jamil and you made a great duo and Floyd was too desmotivated to try to win, so that only left Ace as your major obstacle. He'd often try to get the ball from your hands while making some sassy remarks and engaging in light hearted banter with you. Even when you weren't with the ball he stayed close to try to block you. It came to a point when you were going to try to score a point when he appeared in front of you, close enough that you wouldn't have time to dodge him. So, of course, you had to maneuver your way out, getting close to his face as you made sure to keep his hands away from the ball. His attention was solely on you, gaze unwavering as your noses almost touched and your breaths mingled. He was frozen in place and you took your chance, jumping as high as you could and dunking the ball on the net.

Your team cheered you on, a huge smile on your lips as you turned to see Ace's reaction. He was standing at the same spot, still looking at you. You winked playfully and blew him a kiss, rubbing your victory on his face, proud of your work. He blushed and crossed his arms, saying that you cheated by distracting him. His gaze remained on the lower half of you face. Before you could reply, Jamil whisked you away, congratulating you on your shot.

It was good your team got hyped up, but alongside it so did Floyd. He suddenly felt motivated to play against you and see you try to dodge around him like you did with Ace, since it seemed like lots of fun! (Which would not happen because have you seen his height?) It's not like you had a choice in the matter, anyway, since Floyd could easily take down any member of your team and go straight at you now that he felt like playing again. The last minutes were more like a game of tag between you two, Floyd giggling as he tried to catch you. You ran around the players, trying your best to make a complicated path to confuse him. 

You were actually having some fun, seeing Jamil get the ball from Floyd's hands to help you out and Ace try to get in your way to slow you down. Still, you were not used to that much exercise, your sore body becoming your own enemy as you got more sluggish, which in turn made you get more distracted. It was thanks to that you didn't notice Floyd until he was right beside you, ready to glomp you and squeeze as he trapped you in his arms. You'd blame it on your tiredness later, but as a last effort to get away from him you turned around abruptly, supporting your weight on your heel. Since you were worn out, you got dizzy quickly, tripping over your own feet and landing on the ground.

As soon as you felt sharp pain on your ankle you knew you were screwed, a whine coming out of your throat and tears welling in your eyes. Why must something like this always happen to you? The boys crowded over you, asking if you were okay or if you could stand up or if you wanted a hug to feel better. The answer was no to all of them.

In the end, you saw yourself staring at the infirmary ceiling once more, sweaty and tired, your ankle wrapped in bandages and propped up on the bed. Maybe you should stop going to sports clubs' pratices. Ace, Jamil and Floyd stood by your side, watching you to make sure you were alright, in their own ways. You felt a strong sense of deja vu, though you were grateful for them carrying you all the way up there (even if Floyd took the opportunity to squeeze you some). You could tell for sure that basketball wasn't for you. Time to check out other clubs.

(To lift the mood, Ace cracked a joke about how terrible you were at basketball and how you still had a long way to go before reaching his level. Jamil agreed, adding that pratice makes perfect. Floyd said he had much more fun with shrimpy around to keep him entertained. It wss pretty obvious they wanted to see you there again. The three of them looked at you with hope, even if Floyd's puppy eyes didn't work nearly as well as Ruggie's and Ace's and Jamil's tsundere act didn't fool you, you couldn't say no to them. You did have some fun as well, although next time you'll try to only watch and cheer on the sidelines, no need to be on the playing field and within squeezing distance.)

Track and Field Club (Deuce, Jack)

Despite your previous conviction, you decided to give the sports clubs one last chance. As this club didn't involve a game with complicated rules nor any magic, it seemed like the best choice. Positive thinking is key!

As soon as you steped foot into the field, Deuce and Jack came to great you, visibly happy to have you there! (They won't admit it to you, but they were a bit jealous that you had went to your other first year friends' clubs but not to theirs yet. They were determined to impress you.)

You tell them you're a little worried you won't be able to keep up with their pace, since Deuce has won prizes for his speed and Jack goes on morning jogs everyday. They reassure you that it's no problem, they'll help you the best they can!

The other members don't mind you much, letting your friends monopolize your attention. Jack asks if you've eaten and how has your diet been, you'll need some energy to run! Deuce asks if your uniform is comfortable and if the shoes fit in the right way, it's important to be able to move freely! They are very respectful and answer any question you might have patiently, which makes you feel welcomed. Maybe this time it won't be so bad!

To start pratice, the club leader tells all the members to run some laps. You notice you're pretty behind everyone else, but you're trying to not use all your energy at the warm up, so you don't mind. You take the chance to observe your friends running ahead of you, how the sun reflects on their skin, their shoulders going up and down, every step helping them gain speed. They looked really cool. This fills you with determination, promising to yourself to give it your best in this club.

After taking a break to drink water and stretching your muscles, you start the dynamics. It was a bit funny since you did them by basically moving in circles and changing the way you walk. Still, they were easier to accompany everyone than the laps. So far, so good!

Things start going downhill once you had to do the jumps. Everyone lined up, you staying at the last place, Jack and Deuce right in front of you. They explain that you should sprint, jump at the wooden board and land on the sand pit. Seems easy enough! 

It's not. On Jack's turn, he makes it looks effortless, even with his bigger built he manages to land with grace. You clap for him and he pretends to not notice, but his tail is wagging. On Deuce's, he catches speed quickly and jumps high, landing on his feet and turning to look at you. You cheer for him, a big smile in face as he rubs the back of his neck and thanks you with red cheeks. 

You try to copy their moviments, sprinting with a concentrated look on your face, focused on your destination. Unfortunately, you should have looked at the ground as well, since when it was time to jump you were just a tad too slow and tripped on the wooden plank, falling on the sand pit. You try again, this time focusing on where you're putting your feet, not missing the plank! However, you jump with too much force and doesn't land right, bouncing off the ground again before falling on your knees. You try one more time, jumping at the right place and not putting to much force. This time, though, your feet are not positioned the right way and you loose the strenght to support your weight, eating sand once more. You're going to blame this one on your recently sprained ankle and call it a day. (Thanks Floyd!)

After getting no luck on the long jump (and leaving with your hair full of sand), Jack and Deuce make sure you're ok. You reassure them that yes, your ankle is fine (for now), no, you didn't swallow sand (at least you're pretty sure you didn't) and yes, of course you want to keep going, it's going to take more than just that to deter you (you're a bit used to defeats). Finally, you start to train for the high jump. Especifically the landing, since if you fall the wrong way you could get seriously hurt. Please make sure you land right! Jack and Deuce will be watching closely, ready to help.

Everyone gets separated to go to different mats, some of the older students going straight to the jump. Your friends follow you, Deuce has a fist up as he talks excitedly about his progress on this jump. Jack listens by the side, nodding to some things or adding a comment on how he didn't jump quite that high, but it was an improvement anyway. They are like your personal coaches, instructing you to start by doing rollouts, than jumping and doing a rollout, then jumping higher and doing a rollout.

Once the basics are covered they join you, taking turns at running and flopping on their backs. It's fun, the way your body bounces of the mat and watching Jack and Deuce compete on who can flop harder. They add the bungee, which makes things more complicated since you had to reach a certain heigh to not get stuck on it, but it was a nice challenge. You did lose your shoe due to your feet getting caught in the bungee on the first try, though.

You were enjoying it, laughing along your friends! Until they added the bar. The bar changed everything. The height was a bit higher than it was with the bungee and it was nowhere near as soft. You watched, in awe, as Jack and Deuce flew just over lt and landed on a rollout. You were sure you'd get it too, after all, you did great on the other steps! You ran, turned around and used as much impulse as you could to jump. Instead of the soft embrace of the training mat, you were met with the metalic and hard feeling of the bar digging on your back as you landed right above it. Not even the mat could soften the blow, making you cry out, both in surprise and in pain. The sting was enough to have you wondering if you ever wanted to try this again in your life, the pain was not worth it.

Deuce was by your side instantly, bending down, asking if your back was ok and offering his hand to help you get up. Your hand clasps his, the force he used making your faces come very close to each other, noses touching, your breathless and flushed face right in front of his worried blue eyes. Said eyes widen as his face takes a red tone, he stutters apologies while backing away, hands covering his cheeks. Jack, who you hadn't notice coming close behind you, puts his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly. He says you went well for a begginer and tells you how Deuce did the same thing on his first try. You giggle, putting one of your hands above his to show your appreciation. He quickly drops it and crosses his arms, saying the three of you better get going to the next exercise, eyes avoiding yours and conveniently looking at where the others on the field were gathering together.

There were obstacles scattered across the field, some closer than others. Deuce puffs out his chest and says it's time for the hurdle hops and that he'll show to you how it's done. You watch intently as he sprints and jumps at all the right times, not losing speed despite the things in his way. Jack follows him, a stoic look as he calculates just the right time to jump and cross every obstacle. It reminded you of when you'd watch race competitions back at home, how the runners looked as they crossed the finish line.

Filled with nostalgia, you try to replicate your memory, basing yourself on your friends' perfomances. You run and jump successfully on the first hurdle, feeling as if you're really improving! Though not for too long, since on the second hurdle you don't manage to jump high enough and just end up kicking it and falling on your butt. Oh well, you lasted longer than expected.

You refuse to back down, getting up and dusting yourself, ready to try again. Deuce and Jack support your enthusiasm, hyping you up on every try. It's a bit embarrassing to have them watching and commenting like this, but you feel warmth spreading through your chest and a smile blooming on your face. It's good to know people trust your ability to improve and do better, and you're not about to let them down!

There's one time you trip when you're near the hurdle and end up slipping under it. Another time you jump too close to it and almost full body slam it, falling on top of it. Your feet catches onto the edge of one of the hurdles and makes you fall. You end up knocking over one hurdle, keep running and then falling due to your lost momentum and equilibrium. You stay on the ground, defeated, your body screaming at you after so many falls. It wouldn't be so bad to give up, right? You really did try.

Deuce and Jack carry you to a bench and take care of you, Deuce handing you some water while Jack cleans the scratches you got from meeting the floor so much. They don't rub it in your face about your defeat (like a certain red haired first year would) and try to encourage you to keep trying. (They were pretty worried when you didn't get up though. They wanted to be one of the clubs that didn't make up you end on the infirmary.)

To end pratice, everyone would do a long run. The boys tell you can skip it, since you are already very tired, not used to this much exercising, chest heaving up and down and breath coming as short puffs of air. Jack says it'll do you no good to overwork your body and end up collapsing, Deuce backing him up. Still, you're stubborn, and you already did everything, you might as well go until the end. So you tell them you'll be just fine and agree to the run.

You keep Jack's words in mind, making sure to not overexerte it. Instead of holding a full on sprint you settle on a lighter jog, making sure your breaths are somewhat regulated. This makes you stay very behind the others but you don't mind, everyone has their own pace after all. Deuce and Jack were close to you, since they had very obviously slowed down significantly to keep you company, and you greatly appreciated that, flashing them a smile. Deuce offers a thumbs up and Jack nods his head.

There is a part where you trip and almost fall, but thankfully Deuce catches your arm and manages to keep you upright while still in movement. Though you two get extremely close again, your foreheads even knock on each other's. Deuce gets red faced again, instead of fumbling with his words he fumbles with his feet, tripping and taking you with him as his grip tightens on your arm.

Jack comes to the rescue and stays in the middle, still running prefectly even after having used so much energy during pratice. Guess the daily jogs do work. You look at his back muscles contracting, his shoulders moving, his tail helping him keep equilibrium, feet touchig the ground for a moment before they're gone. He seems to notice the eyes on his back as he looks over his shoulder, head tilting in confusion in such an endearing way you can't help but tell him what you were thinkin, about how cool he looks and how he must have trained so much for this! He looks taken a bit aback, ears twitching and tail wagging. So much so, in fact, that due to your closeness and his thick fur, it hits you, and due to your tiredness and the position it hits, you end up falling once again. You're not even mad, honestly. It was the nicest fall you've had so far.

Congrats, you manage to finish the run! Although you're drenched in sweat, hair sticking to your forehead and throat dry, you did it! But Deuce and Jack won't look you in the eye and keep blushing for some reason, you start to wonder if they're down with a fever at this point. Anyways, as soon as the run is over you throw youself (gently) on the ground, taking large gulps of air and spreading and stretching your limbs. 

All in all it was pretty fun, even if you did get some scratches and lost whatever little dignity you still had. But you found yourself all sweaty and sore again, not to mention that you didn't think that track was for you. You plan to check other non sport related clubs later, but first, you deserve a break.

(Jack's tail keeps wagging and Deuce's smile is glued to his face. They mentally high five each other for a job well done. They had made you feel welcomed! And you enjoyed yourself! Such a shame you're not entering the club yet... remember to not fall out ot pratice in order to build stamina. Jack can help you with that, going on jogs with you! And you were so good at the high jump, not to mention you were almost getting the hang of the hurdle hops, so maybe next time you try will be the time you make it! Deuce can help you if you need! It's very clear what they wanted, and since they did do their best it feels right to give them a little reward, so of course you agree to come to another pratice eventually. Their smiles give you the force to strengthen your resolve, as you bid goodbye to any possible dignity you had left.)

Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #epel felmier x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #silver x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader #ace trappola x reader #floyd leech x reader #jamil viper x reader #deuce spade x reader #jack howl x reader #I learnt so many new english terms while writing this #also not really related but #YOU GUYS WERE SO SWEET ON MY LAST WRITING #LIKE. ACTUALLY CRYING WITH HAPPINESS #THANK YOUUU #I tried to be a bit funny. not sure how successful I was #anyways I love the clubs so I thought why not make a little series abt them #wonderland wonder

[fluorynn]

What if…

Neteyam survived the bullet he received, yet it was Jake who lost his life in the conflict between Quaritch and the Sullys?

What if…

Neteyam gains a much more powerful and overprotective instinct to protect his family. Much more controlling, much more on the look out, much more like how Jake was with him.

“A father protects his own,” was what Jake, his father, the former leader of their fortress, always used to say. And it is set in the eldest son’s mind now to be the protector, to be the best example for his siblings. To help his mother guide them, to carry the duties of not only the eldest son but as a warrior, as son of Toruk Makto, and as now gaining a spot amongst the Metkayina as one of the best young warriors they’ve seen.

What if…

Metkayina’s Olo’eyktan, Tonowari, had a mate far before the current Tsahik, Ronal? That Tonowari once fell in love with another Metkayina female, Le’anu? Le’anu, who was not necessarily experienced in medicine or healing, not right for the role as Tsahik and yet he loved her anyway?

What if…

The eldest was not Ao’nung, but a girl, daughter of Le’anu? The little girl named Y/N, the future of the Metkayina clan. The little girl who was supposed to grow up with the immense love of both her parents, and bound to make them both proud.

What if…

The RDA conflict shown in ATWOW and brought to Awa’atlu isn’t the first Sky People conflict they’ve been involved in yet no other clan knew of it?

What if…

Because of this first conflict, Tonowari and 4 year Y/N end up losing the most important woman in their life, Le’anu in battle? Losing many good warriors and families in his clan because of these Sky demons and in return they lost as much, and keeps this conflict in secret for he made an agreement with the Sky demons, with one in particular who understood their language, a female; to not ever cross paths within their waters again, or this will repeat itself much more violently.

What if…

With a heavy, most devastating heart — one that had never experienced grief before — Tonowari re-mated just for little Y/N to grow up with the grown necessity of a mother’s love? She was little when it occurred, she needed a mother figure in her life because he clearly could not provide that, and he needed a life partner to help him take care of his daughter, to help him provide and bring hope to his clan.

What if…

This leads him to choose the next best healer, and most intriguing Metkayina female, Ronal? She was a good choice; she was a friend to Y/N’s mother, she was good to him, and most wonderful with Y/N as well. Firm but patient, attentive and caring. Yes. She would be good mate, good Tsahik, and most importantly, a good mother.

What if…

He does wound up falling in love with Ronal; the respectful and caring friendship becoming one of a very strong love, understanding, and admiration, and communication. And this love leads them into having their firstborn son, Ao’nung, and while Y/N is daughter to Ronal by heart, she has her first daughter by blood, little Tsireya.

What if…

Because Y/N’s mother was not Tsahik, she did not receive any training to become future one, and instead it was Tsireya who was chosen to become Tsahik both because her mother was one and because she was chosen by Eywa. Though Y/N did have experience, she learned from Ronal, she studied, but because she wanted her little sister to become this clan’s better future, she chose to guide her behind closed doors along with Ronal.

What if…

Tonowari grows fearful when Jakesully brings his family to Awa’atlu, seeking sanctuary from the Sky People’s war. While he was hesitant, he was not a cruel person. But Ronal, she showed her fear, showed her anger. She did not want her mate to suffer the pain he once did in losing Le’anu, she did not want neither of her children, including the one brewing in her womb, to suffer the way her eldest, her Y/N, did when losing her birth mother.

What if…

Because Neteyam is the oldest and was to be future Olo’eyktan back in the forest and held a promising future, the Metkayina’s Tsahik, Ronal has had a vision that he was to be promised to one of their People, and they assumed that he was to be mated to their youngest daughter, their future Tsahik, Tsireya.

What if…

This is why she chooses to provide sanctuary for this family — for the will of Eywa.

What if…

When this revelation comes to the surface the moment Neteyam hits the age of 18, Neytiri is willing for this to happen — to not disappoint their Great Mother, to let her son have this promising future he should have had back in the Forest, for him to ease his dense demeanor and find a happiness for himself?

What if…

Y/N was against this union, because she wants best for her sister, and she has seen the way Neteyam is towards other Metkayina women, the way he believes to only please the will of Eywa and nothing, not even love? And Neteyam is driven to try and court Tsireya to keep his high status, trying hard not to see the way his little brother may feel something for the Reef girl — because this is how Eywa wishes for it to be?

What if…

Y/N and Neteyam both find a way to torment one another within this union, irritating each other constantly, and yet it is clear to see that they clearly have a thing or more for one another?

————————————————

An idea is building up….

Neteyam x Eldest!Metkayina!Daughter!Reader

Friends to enemies to lovers maybe?

The concept to flesh out Neteyam into the eldest son who thinks he needs to constantly please everyone around him while he doesn’t exactly worry of himself being deserving of being pleased — and HEAR ME OUT, Jake, in my train of thought, may have to be deceased in this possible fic series—

And reader who sorta surrounds the idea of being undeserving of love if that makes sense? Of course, there’s still ideas to be thought out, more details, more world building but —

If this turns out well, if I continue debating and building it up….who would like to be tagged?

#avatar the way of water #jake sully #avatar james cameron #neytiri avatar #avatar jake #neteyam x reader #neteyam avatar #neteyam sully #what if…avatar #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #lo’ak sully #lo’ak avatar #kiri avatar #Kiri sully #tuktirey #tuk sully #metkayina!reader #metkayina #atwow

[slytherinshua]

SCOUPS WITH AN OLDEST CHILD S/O

genre. comfort. headcanons. warnings. this is honestly so messy, not rly sure how well it flows or how good it is so sry abt that. mention of burnout, academic stress, self doubt, etc. pairing. scoups x reader. wc. 548. request. requested by 🌱 anon a/n. even though i'm the youngest i kind of relate to a lot of these especially academic ones :( to everyone who feels this way not just oldest children, know that you're all doing amazing and i'm so proud of you just for being you, you don't have to be perfect all the time, and your achievements don't reflect how valuable you are as a person

as the oldest in Seventeen himself, Seungcheol would probably be all too used to the stress and pressure of setting an example and living up to people’s expectation

especially since he’s also the leader and has to represent Seventeen to the public, he deals with his own share of pressure

he hates that you have to feel that way too, but he would be the best person you could ever ask for to help with it

he knows that some days you just need extra kisses and cuddles and encouragement

he knows that even just him saying that he’s proud of you is enough

he doesn’t need to be over the top, he just needs to be there for you

he’ll especially try to do extra small things for you

“grades don’t define your self worth”

he’s repeated that so many times to you that now it’s constantly circling in your head

and it’s been so helpful for you to give yourself a little bit of grace

of course it doesn’t always work— some days are just shit and it feels like everyone in the world is disappointed in you and that no matter how hard you try, it’ll never be enough for them

sometimes it even feels like Seungcheol himself is also disappointed in you

when you tell him, he washes the thought away so quickly, it’s almost as if it was never there to begin with

he’s always proud of you, no matter how much you do in a day

instead of looking at your achievements— your grades and projects and work— he looks at your every day life

he’s proud of you when you wake up in the morning and shower

he’s proud when you eat 3 meals a day and actually get dressed enough to feel pretty

he’s proud when you do the things he knows are so hard but so necessary

Seungcheol is always so observant as well

he can tell immediately when you get uncomfortable around your family or friends

he knows when you feel like they’re judging you

and he’ll make up an excuse to take you home every time

even just an reassuring smile from across the room from him can allow you to breathe and relax

when it comes to studying when you absolutely cannot take breaks even if you want to, Seungcheol will make sure to be right by your side as much as he can

one thing he’s best at is being able to make you laugh even when you’re stressed

sometimes Seungcheol doesn’t think that he does that much to help

he’s sure that he could do so much more and he would in an instant if you needed it

but he already does so much more than any other person you’ve ever had in your life

the smiles, the laughter, the encouragement, the closeness, the comfort, the stability

he’s relentless at times when it comes to you taking care of yourself (depriving you of kisses is his best method for making you take care of yourself) but it’s exactly what you need and you couldn’t be more thankful to him for it

Seungcheol slowly but surely did everything that no one else had been able to do in the past: he made everything feel okay

↳ svt taglist: @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @ddeonudepressions,, @hannahsophie0103,, @minholing,, @shuabby1994,, @icyminghao,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,, @wonwooz1,, @cyberpunksunwoo,, @haecien,, @amara-mars

#slytherinshua fics 🍰 #k-labels #caratsland #scoups #seungcheol #svt #seventeen #svt scoups #svt seungcheol #seventeen scoups #seventeen seungcheol #scoups fluff #scoups fic #seventeen scoups fluff #svt scoups fluff #seventeen scoups fic #svt scoups fic #svt fic #svt fluff #seventeen fic #seventeen fluff #seungcheol fluff #fluff #fic #fanfic #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #scoups x reader #choi seungcheol #seungcheol x reader

[quotesfrommyreading]

Much of the public discussion of Ukraine reveals a tendency to patronize that country and others that escaped Russian rule. As Toomas Ilves, a former president of Estonia, acidly observed, “When I was at university in the mid-1970s, no one referred to Germany as ‘the former Third Reich.’ And yet today, more than 30 years after the fall of the Berlin Wall, we keep on being referred to as ‘former Soviet bloc countries.’” Tropes about Ukrainian corruption abound, not without reason—but one may also legitimately ask why so many members of Congress enter the House or Senate with modest means and leave as multimillionaires, or why the children of U.S. presidents make fortunes off foreign countries, or, for that matter, why building in New York City is so infernally expensive.

The latest, richest example of Western condescension came in a report by German military intelligence that complains that although the Ukrainians are good students in their training courses, they are not following Western doctrine and, worse, are promoting officers on the basis of combat experience rather than theoretical knowledge. Similar, if less cutting, views have leaked out of the Pentagon.

Criticism by the German military of any country’s combat performance may be taken with a grain of salt. After all, the Bundeswehr has not seen serious combat in nearly eight decades. In Afghanistan, Germany was notorious for having considerably fewer than 10 percent of its thousands of in-country troops outside the wire of its forward operating bases at any time. One might further observe that when, long ago, the German army did fight wars, it, too, tended to promote experienced and successful combat leaders, as wartime armies usually do.

American complaints about the pace of Ukraine’s counteroffensive and its failure to achieve rapid breakthroughs are similarly misplaced. The Ukrainians indeed received a diverse array of tanks and armored vehicles, but they have far less mine-clearing equipment than they need. They tried doing it our way—attempting to pierce dense Russian defenses and break out into open territory—and paid a price. After 10 days they decided to take a different approach, more careful and incremental, and better suited to their own capabilities (particularly their precision long-range weapons) and the challenge they faced. That is, by historical standards, fast adaptation. By contrast, the United States Army took a good four years to develop an operational approach to counterinsurgency in Iraq that yielded success in defeating the remnants of the Baathist regime and al-Qaeda-oriented terrorists.

A besetting sin of big militaries, particularly America’s, is to think that their way is either the best way or the only way. As a result of this assumption, the United States builds inferior, mirror-image militaries in smaller allies facing insurgency or external threat. These forces tend to fail because they are unsuited to their environment or simply lack the resources that the U.S. military possesses in plenty. The Vietnamese and, later, the Afghan armies are good examples of this tendency—and Washington’s postwar bad-mouthing of its slaughtered clients, rather than critical self-examination of what it set them up for, is reprehensible.

The Ukrainians are now fighting a slow, patient war in which they are dismantling Russian artillery, ammunition depots, and command posts without weapons such as American ATACMS and German Taurus missiles that would make this sensible approach faster and more effective. They know far more about fighting Russians than anyone in any Western military knows, and they are experiencing a combat environment that no Western military has encountered since World War II. Modesty, never an American strong suit, is in order.

  —  Western Diplomats Need to Stop Whining About Ukraine

#eliot a. cohen #current events #politics #ukrainian politics #american politics #warfare #strategy #tactics #diplomacy #russo-ukrainian war #2022 russian invasion of ukraine #war in afghanistan #vietnam war #ukraine #usa #toomas hendrik ilves

[moons-of-dewclan]

HOW TO RESET YOUR CLAN TO EARLIER MOON

(another case of 'one person asked, i deliver) ok first, you sort of can't. YOU GOTTA RESTART with a 'new' clan and transfer! SECONDLY, this may be more complicated than it needs to be bc i don't know how to do things simply. i'm trying my best tho. THIS IS HOW I'VE DONE IT. i recommend watching videos or reading up on how to 'edit files' bc this isn't exhaustive. IT REALLY HELPS IF YOU KNOW HOW TO MESS WITH THE FILES. this is SUPPLEMENTAL KNOWLEDGE FIRST!! save a backup of your clan files (The JSON FILE, AND CLAN FOLDER) in case you make a whoopsie and destroy your code. READ THIS ALL BEFORE TRYING. i'll be noting some things that are MAKE OR BREAK. literally. make ur code or break your code IN THIS EXAMPLE, i'm going back to moon 15 for Dewclan from moon 50, and I'm going to pretend there are only 4 cats- Lyre, Vanilla, Nettle and Spark. I'll refer the clan you want to set back as the 'Canon' clan, and the one you're going to be rewinding to as the 'Rewound' clan! THEN HERE WE GOOOOO FIRST, NEW CLAN. pick the same mode as the clan you're trying to 'Rewind'.

NAME IT WHATEVER. you'll change it later..

Pick those cats. i like to pick the minimum necessary. but it doesn't really matter, as you're going to more or less be copypasting your old cats into this 'Rewound' clan.

START IN THE SAME PLACE. and in the same SEASON that your Canon clan started in. I started Dewclan in Leafbare. do not choose the season that's taking place on the moon you want to rewind to. the one you STaRted on. (you're going to choose what moon you're on later in settings. this keeps the progression consistent. if you started in leafbare, but choose greenleaf for the Rewound clan, 15 moons in, you'll be on a different season than your Canon clan would be bc your starting point was different. even if i'm not explaining that well just do it i promise LAKSNNDKS)

WOW THESE AREN'T MY BABIES. ok time to kill or delete three of these suckers bc i only need four cats. BYE GUYS

also go into your settings. MAKE EVERYTHING HOW YOU WANT IT. general, role, etc. AND THEN CLICK THAT 'OPEN DATA DIRECTORY'. this is where stuff gets GOING

click here.. saves

NOW, BELOW!! the folders, it'll have a JSON file with your Rewound clan name. THIS IS IMPORTANT. there are things in here that you need to change. some require you to peek at your cats, and some don't. We'll get to it later! FOR NOW, click the folder above this that says your Rewound clan name! mine is 'DewAGAIN'

THEN YOU GOT ALL THE JUICY STUFF

CLICK CLAN CATS. AND LOOK BELLLOOOW. we're gonna transfer our beloved babies over. i recommend you copy from "name_prefix" to "favourite": false in the Canon clan (keep their ID number from this Rewound clan the same. don't replace it with their ID number from the Canon clan), then select all that info in the Rewound clan and paste it to overwrite. and then adjust what you need to. AND YOU WILL NEED TO ADJUST I HIIIGHLY recommend leaving the ID numbers and pasting Canon leader info into Rewound leader info. med cat into med cat. deputy into deputy. Rewound clan leader is ID 20? paste your Canon clan leader info info 20. keep Canon clan's number as 20.

SOME OF THESE ARE VERY IMPORTANT. 1. ID NUMBER. if your cat has any relationships, like parents or mates, you need these numbers to match those cats. ALSO if your cat has a specific role, like medicine cat, leader, mediator or deputy, their number needs to match the number designated in the CLAN JSON info shown in the next image. FOR NOW I CONTINUE. 2. IMPORTANT NUMBERS. Sparkplug (her name isn't rly sparkplug btw)'s parent is Lyrestar. Lyre's ID number is 1. if that ID number doesn't match or doesn't exist in this game, you'll get an error! Same goes for mentors and mates. at moon 15, Spark wouldn't have these. But if i transferred her from moon 50 where she did, I'll have to replace the mate/mentor/whatever will 'null', etc, shown here. make sure everything here is relevant to moon 15, and not moon 50! 3. IF your cat was dead when you copypasted, change that! Dead?? FALSE. from dead 'true'.. ... where did 4 and 5 go..- ANYWAY 6. EXPERIENCE. make sure you drop this back to where it was at that moon. lest your kit graduate to warrior bc they have 3000 experience. 7. FALLS INTO 2. do they have an apprentice in the Canon clan that they wouldn't have in the rewound clan? gET RID OF EM. (you can copypaste that portion from a cat without an apprentice or just rewrite it as 'null', but sometimes i type things wrong and get errors so.. i copypaste. just make sure you're copying and pasting from the right start and end point.) IF YOUR CAT HAD AN APPRENTICE IN MOON 15, AND NOT 50.. you can either just set them as mentor and apprentice ingame manually, or write it into the code. i would do it manually tho bc i'm easily confused

NOW WE GET INTO WHERE THE CLAN JSON IS IMPORTANT.

ABOVE ARE MARKED, IMPORTANT THINGS. some will break the game if you don't do it right. SO 1. Name. You can change this later, to your Canon clan name. You need to also change the FOLDER name to match. The folder that you click to get to your 'Clan Cats' files and stuff. YOU WILL HAVE TO CHANGE YOUR CANON CLAN FOLDER NAME AND FILE NAME TO SOMETHING ELSE or it'll corrupt! 2. HERE you change to the moon you want to rewind to. I'd change mine, to 15! season changes along with the moon number automatically. 3. INSTRUCTOR. this is the cat that leads your cats to starclan. predead. dw about it, unless you've messed with the dead cat and want to change it to your old starclan guide. then change the number, to your guide's ID number. You'll see it in the Clan Cats folder! LEADER. you need to change this to your clan leader's number or the files get confused. this is why i recommend replacing Rewound leaders with leaders, deputies with deputies, etc, and not also pasting the old numbers. the numbers are already set. ALSO this is where the leader's lives are dictated! DEPUTY. same as above! MED CAT.... SAME. but also, if you have multiple, add multiple! 4. You can change these names to the Canon names. if you had more or less other clans, you can delete or add more. just make sure to have the same number of clans as 'relations' and 'temperaments'! four clans, for traits and temperaments. 5 clans, 5 traits and temperaments. FINAL PAIN IN THE ARSE is.. having to adjust relationships. bc your 'new' clan won't have established relationships. you gotta go in and adjust the values. it sucks big ass but i don't know a better way to do it snff..

QUICK TIP if you absolutely don't want romance between two unrelated cats bc it would be weird for story reasons, you can change their status in the relationships file change family: false, to family: true. the game thinks they're related and romance won't happen HAHAHAAAAA .. at least in my experience. if this is wrong i'll cry

#kasks

[howtofightwrite]

Speaking of martial competence, do you have any examples of characters that are actually written with this in mind?

Loads. Some actually even make good on that.

So, there's different kinds of martial competence. There are characters who are proficient in combat directly, there are well written strategists, there are characters who excel at military leadership, and when they're written well, you can actuallylearn some things from them.

I'm going to give some examples, and at least one cautionary example.

For, just, raw combat prowess, I still go back to Robert E. Howard's Conan short stories. It's easy to meme on the character, especially 90 years after the fact, with the cultural persona that's grown around him, but Howard's original writing is excellent. The character would not have survived Howard's early (and, frankly, tragic) death if it was just the one note gag you might expect, if your only exposure to the character was through cultural osmosis and the films.

Howard's fight scenes were shockingly well written. To the point that it is still absolutely worth reading if you want to write a fantasy fighter.

For strategists, three characters come to mind, but only two are literary, and all are Science Fiction.

Grand Admiral Thrawn is probably one of the best villains Star Wars has ever produced, it's part of why he's one of the few characters that's migrated from the original EU to the Disney era. My personal take is, as a character, he's lost a lot over the years, but the original incarnation from the early 90s novels is a very solid model for a strategist. Particularly in how he takes time to understand his opponents while looking for potential weak points to exploit.

His practice of studying a culture's art to understand their psychology might sound a bit goofy, but the concept does have a real basis. (At least, until it metastasized into a superpower, in later adaptations of the character.) Being able to psychologically assess your foe is an incredibly valuable element of strategy, and one that you probably want to consider when you're writing a character who is supposed to be a “strategic genius.”

When writing fiction, you want to consider all of your characters as if they were people, rather than as hollow, plastic toys. And, yes, the obnoxious villain who knows exactly what your heroes will do because of authorial fiat is going to be a more compelling character than the ambulatory goldfish villain who exists as a prelude for your heroes showing off how badass you think they are.

Granted, even in Heir to the EmpireThrawn was already drawing strategic insights that strained credibility, but understanding your foe is an element of strategic thinking that is often forgotten in literature. So, even as a villain in a tie-in novel (we're not done with tie-in fiction yet), he is worth looking at. At least when written by Timothy Zhan, Thrawn was a well written character, and even if he bordered on a Mary Sue at times, he escaped a lot of that stigma by justifying his competence.

It's also probably worth mentioning in passing that he's one of the few Imperial leaders in Star Wars who isn't also criminally incompetent.

The non-literary example of a strategist would be John Sheridan from Babylon 5. Unlike Thrawn, Sheridan's main strategic focus is on situational exploitation. A little of that comes from his knowledge of enemy procedures and psychology, but at lot of it comes from a rather ruthless approach to technical limitations. An alien race is using technology that blocks human targeting systems? Set up a nuclear mine and then send out a fake distress single to lure them in. Need to deal with a significantly larger, more dangerous ship? Lure them into a gas giant and and let the planet's gravity well drag them past crush depth. Bruce Boxleitner's performance helped sell the character, but Sheridan is a really solid science fiction strategist, who really exemplifies how technical limitations can have enormous strategic considerations.

I'm not citing Sheridan as an excellent example of a leader per se,it's certainly there, but it is harder to unpack from Boxleitner's performance. It does have some good payoffs much later in the series when he starts making some orders that cause his subordinates to sit up and stop what they're doing. And that is a consistent theme even back to his introduction, but, it's a tangible consequence to an intangible cause.

The last example is a negative example, both for strategy and leadership. And, as much as it pains me to say this, at least Orson Scott Card understood that Ender was a bad leader. At least in the original novel. To be blunt, Ender is a mediocre strategist at best. His highlights in the book involve, “inventing armor,” and creative movement in micrograv. That's setting the bar exceptionally low, and while it is reasonably within the range of what you could expect from a pre-teen, that's not much of a justification.

Again, I'm not a fan of Card, and I'm reallynot recommending Ender's Gameto anyone. However, if I didn't mention it, you know there'd be a reblog going for twelve hundred words about how Andrew Wiggin is the best strategist in literature, which, yeah, no.

Do you want a goofy, tie-in fiction, literary suggestion for the best leader in sci-fi? Too bad, because I'm pretty sure Ciaphas Cain is not that person. The Ciaphas Cain novels by Sandy Mitchell are unusual as leadership recommendations, because of how much Cain internally processes the social manipulation involved in military leadership. He's not a great leader, but he is exceptionallygood at explaining to the reader how he's creating that illusion to motivate the soldiers around him. In fairness, some of that is an intrinsic character flaw, he is incredibly insecure, and desperately trying to hide that fact. And the difference between being a great leader, and effectively creating a comprehensive illusion of a great leader is: There is no difference. As a serious complement, it is one of the few times I've seen an author treat leadership as an actual skill, and not simply an extension of a character's charisma. Which is why I'm singling this one out. It might sound like a joke inclusion initially, and the books are quite funny in a Warhammer 40k kind of way, but there is quite a bit of  value to be had.

-Starke

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#writing advice #writing reference #writing tips #how to fight write #starke answers #Babylon 5 #Grand Admiral Thrawn #Ciaphas Cain

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Solar is a market for (financial) lemons

There are only four more days left in my Kickstarter for the audiobook of The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

Rooftop solar is the future, but it's also a scam. It didn't have to be, but America decided that the best way to roll out distributed, resilient, clean and renewable energy was to let Wall Street run the show. They turned it into a scam, and now it's in terrible trouble. which means we are in terrible trouble.

There's a (superficial) good case for turning markets loose on the problem of financing the rollout of an entirely new kind of energy provision across a large and heterogeneous nation. As capitalism's champions (and apologists) have observed since the days of Adam Smith and David Ricardo, markets harness together the work of thousands or even millions of strangers in pursuit of a common goal, without all those people having to agree on a single approach or plan of action. Merely dangle the incentive of profit before the market's teeming participants and they will align themselves towards it, like iron filings all snapping into formation towards a magnet.

But markets have a problem: they are prone to "reward hacking." This is a term from AI research: tell your AI that you want it to do something, and it will find the fastest and most efficient way of doing it, even if that method is one that actually destroys the reason you were pursuing the goal in the first place.

https://learn.microsoft.com/en-us/security/engineering/failure-modes-in-machine-learning

For example: if you use an AI to come up with a Roomba that doesn't bang into furniture, you might tell that Roomba to avoid collisions. However, the Roomba is only designed to register collisions with its front-facing sensor. Turn the Roomba loose and it will quickly hit on the tactic of racing around the room in reverse, banging into all your furniture repeatedly, while never registering a single collision:

https://www.schneier.com/blog/archives/2021/04/when-ais-start-hacking.html

This is sometimes called the "alignment problem." High-speed, probabilistic systems that can't be fully predicted in advance can very quickly run off the rails. It's an idea that pre-dates AI, of course – think of the Sorcerer's Apprentice. But AI produces these perverse outcomes at scale…and so does capitalism.

Many sf writers have observed the odd phenomenon of corporate AI executives spinning bad sci-fi scenarios about their AIs inadvertently destroying the human race by spinning off in some kind of paperclip-maximizing reward-hack that reduces the whole planet to grey goo in order to make more paperclips. This idea is very implausible (to say the least), but the fact that so many corporate leaders are obsessed with autonomous systems reward-hacking their way into catastrophe tells us something about corporate executives, even if it has no predictive value for understanding the future of technology.

Both Ted Chiang and Charlie Stross have theorized that the source of these anxieties isn't AI – it's corporations. Corporations are these equilibrium-seeking complex machines that can't be programmed, only prompted. CEOs know that they don't actually run their companies, and it haunts them, because while they can decompose a company into all its constituent elements – capital, labor, procedures – they can't get this model-train set to go around the loop:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/09/autocomplete-worshippers/#the-real-ai-was-the-corporations-that-we-fought-along-the-way

Stross calls corporations "Slow AI," a pernicious artificial life-form that acts like a pedantic genie, always on the hunt for ways to destroy you while still strictly following your directions. Markets are an extremely reliable way to find the most awful alignment problems – but by the time they've surfaced them, they've also destroyed the thing you were hoping to improve with your market mechanism.

Which brings me back to solar, as practiced in America. In a long Time feature, Alana Semuels describes the waves of bankruptcies, revealed frauds, and even confiscation of homeowners' houses arising from a decade of financialized solar:

https://time.com/6565415/rooftop-solar-industry-collapse/

The problem starts with a pretty common finance puzzle: solar pays off big over its lifespan, saving the homeowner money and insulating them from price-shocks, emergency power outages, and other horrors. But solar requires a large upfront investment, which many homeowners can't afford to make. To resolve this, the finance industry extends credit to homeowners (lets them borrow money) and gets paid back out of the savings the homeowner realizes over the years to come.

But of course, this requires a lot of capital, and homeowners still might not see the wisdom of paying even some of the price of solar and taking on debt for a benefit they won't even realize until the whole debt is paid off. So the government moved in to tinker with the markets, injecting prompts into the slow AIs to see if it could coax the system into producing a faster solar rollout – say, one that didn't have to rely on waves of deadly power-outages during storms, heatwaves, fires, etc, to convince homeowners to get on board because they'd have experienced the pain of sitting through those disasters in the dark.

The government created subsidies – tax credits, direct cash, and mixes thereof – in the expectation that Wall Street would see all these credits and subsidies that everyday people were entitled to and go on the hunt for them. And they did! Armies of fast-talking sales-reps fanned out across America, ringing dooorbells and sticking fliers in mailboxes, and lying like hell about how your new solar roof was gonna work out for you.

These hustlers tricked old and vulnerable people into signing up for arrangements that saw them saddled with ballooning debt payments (after a honeymoon period at a super-low teaser rate), backstopped by liens on their houses, which meant that missing a payment could mean losing your home. They underprovisioned the solar that they installed, leaving homeowners with sky-high electrical bills on top of those debt payments.

If this sounds familiar, it's because it shares a lot of DNA with the subprime housing bubble, where fast-talking salesmen conned vulnerable people into taking out predatory mortgages with sky-high rates that kicked in after a honeymoon period, promising buyers that the rising value of housing would offset any losses from that high rate.

These fraudsters knew they were acquiring toxic assets, but it didn't matter, because they were bundling up those assets into "collateralized debt obligations" – exotic black-box "derivatives" that could be sold onto pension funds, retail investors, and other suckers.

This is likewise true of solar, where the tax-credits, subsidies and other income streams that these new solar installations offgassed were captured and turned into bonds that were sold into the financial markets, producing an insatiable demand for more rooftop solar installations, and that meant lots more fraud.

Which brings us to today, where homeowners across America are waking up to discover that their power bills have gone up thanks to their solar arrays, even as the giant, financialized solar firms that supplied them are teetering on the edge of bankruptcy, thanks to waves of defaults. Meanwhile, all those bonds that were created from solar installations are ticking timebombs, sitting on institutions' balance-sheets, waiting to go blooie once the defaults cross some unpredictable threshold.

Markets are very efficient at mobilizing capital for growth opportunities. America has a lot of rooftop solar. But 70% of that solar isn't owned by the homeowner – it's owned by a solar company, which is to say, "a finance company that happens to sell solar":

https://www.utilitydive.com/news/solarcity-maintains-34-residential-solar-market-share-in-1h-2015/406552/

And markets are very efficient at reward hacking. The point of any market is to multiply capital. If the only way to multiply the capital is through building solar, then you get solar. But the finance sector specializes in making the capital multiply as much as possible while doing as little as possible on the solar front. Huge chunks of those federal subsidies were gobbled up by junk-fees and other financial tricks – sometimes more than 100%.

The solar companies would be in even worse trouble, but they also tricked all their victims into signing binding arbitration waivers that deny them the power to sue and force them to have their grievances heard by fake judges who are paid by the solar companies to decide whether the solar companies have done anything wrong. You will not be surprised to learn that the arbitrators are reluctant to find against their paymasters.

I had a sense that all this was going on even before I read Semuels' excellent article. We bought a solar installation from Treeium, a highly rated, giant Southern California solar installer. We got an incredibly hard sell from them to get our solar "for free" – that is, through these financial arrangements – but I'd just sold a book and I had cash on hand and I was adamant that we were just going to pay upfront. As soon as that was clear, Treeium's ardor palpably cooled. We ended up with a grossly defective, unsafe and underpowered solar installation that has cost more than $10,000 to bring into a functional state (using another vendor). I briefly considered suing Treeium (I had insisted on striking the binding arbitration waiver from the contract) but in the end, I decided life was too short.

The thing is, solar is amazing. We love running our house on sunshine. But markets have proven – again and again – to be an unreliable and even dangerous way to improve Americans' homes and make them more resilient. After all, Americans' homes are the largest asset they are apt to own, which makes them irresistible targets for scammers:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/06/the-rents-too-damned-high/

That's why the subprime scammers targets Americans' homes in the 2000s, and it's why the house-stealing fraudsters who blanket the country in "We Buy Ugly Homes" are targeting them now. Same reason Willie Sutton robbed banks: "That's where the money is":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/11/ugly-houses-ugly-truth/

America can and should electrify and solarize. There are serious logistical challenges related to sourcing the underlying materials and deploying the labor, but those challenges are grossly overrated by people who assume the only way we can approach them is though markets, those monkey's paw curses that always find a way to snatch profitable defeat from the jaws of useful victory.

To get a sense of how the engineering challenges of electrification could be met, read McArthur fellow Saul Griffith's excellent popular engineering text Electrify:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/12/09/practical-visionary/#popular-engineering

And to really understand the transformative power of solar, don't miss Deb Chachra's How Infrastructure Works, where you'll learn that we could give every person on Earth the energy budget of a Canadian (like an American, but colder) by capturing just 0.4% of the solar rays that reach Earth's surface:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/17/care-work/#charismatic-megaprojects

But we won't get there with markets. All markets will do is create incentives to cheat. Think of the market for "carbon offsets," which were supposed to substitute markets for direct regulation, and which produced a fraud-riddled market for lemons that sells indulgences to our worst polluters, who go on destroying our planet and our future:

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

We can address the climate emergency, but not by prompting the slow AI and hoping it doesn't figure out a way to reward-hack its way to giant profits while doing nothing. Founder and chairman of Goodleap, Hayes Barnard, is one of the 400 richest people in the world – a fortune built on scammers who tricked old people into signing away their homes for nonfunctional solar):

https://www.forbes.com/profile/hayes-barnard/?sh=40d596362b28

If governments are willing to spend billions incentivizing rooftop solar, they can simply spend billions installing rooftop solar – no Slow AI required.

Berliners: Otherland has added a second date (Jan 28 - TOMORROW!) for my book-talk after the first one sold out - book now!

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/2024/01/27/here-comes-the-sun-king/#sign-here

Back the Kickstarter for the audiobook of The Bezzle here!

Image:

Future Atlas/www.futureatlas.com/blog (modified)

https://www.flickr.com/photos/87913776@N00/3996366952

--

CC BY 2.0

https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

J Doll (modified)

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Blue_Sky_%28140451293%29.jpeg

CC BY 3.0

https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #solar #financialization #energy #climate #electrification #climate emergency #bezzles #ai #reward hacking #alignment problem #carbon offsets #slow ai #subprime

[kimbap-r0ll]

What dorm leaders may do when stressed

Uni's kicking me and hopefully won't for the next week haha (may you all be blessed with less work soon)

Riddle

I feel like he would be under pressure 24/7 he thinks it's weird when he doesn't feel any :/ (it's giving toxic)

Academics never really stressed him out while at NRC but if there was something it would be his duties as dorm leader. He loves his job sure, but it comes with its own set of work. Add Ace, Deuce, Grim to the list of things he has to keep an eye out for and he really starts to feel tired haha

He will likely have more caffeine than usual, opting for tea over coffee. He also tends to sleep less, saying that while it's better to sleep more, he needs to get things done.

He's a bit more agitated, you can tell he's stressed by seeing the number of students he's had to behead go up. You may also spot Trey talking to him more, maybe sneaking him a sweet treat to help him push through exam week or so haha

If he has an s/o, he wouldn't want them to worry about him so he'll just try his best to hide it. However, if his s/o were to give him something nice during stressful times, he will be extremely grateful (expect him to give them something in return)

Leona

He tries to stop work before it gets stressful and he's surprisingly good at it. Either he gets work done beforehand (very rare) or he just doesn't do it at all (extremely likely).

He gets stressed about other things than academics since he's already pretty good at most subjects. I feel like what stresses him out would be familial things, or at least ones pertaining to his brother and whatnot.

When he's stressed he tends to be a little bit more on edge, a little more snarky. But overall, he'll be sleeping more and less likely to actually fight someone. If a random student is bothering him for example, he'll usually hit the lightly on the shoulder and tell them to stop. In times of stress, he tends to just walk away and hope the student doesn't follow him (doesn't have the energy to bother)

If he has an s/o, he's more clingy. It's a little surprising coming from someone who usually tries to convince his s/o to leave him alone, but when he's stressed he wants more attention. Definitely pulled his s/o to a nap more than once

Azul

He's like Riddle, he thinks it's weird when he's not under pressure and will constantly look for ways to get himself stressed :/

He gains most of his stress from his physical appearance, mainly because of his childhood. However, he also gets stressed from wanting to maintain a perfect image. He wants to get good at every class, wants to be a good businessman for the school lounge, etc.

He's a coffee addict, but this will only grow when he's stressed out. Will he consume more than four cups of coffee? Yes. Is he ok? No. He also is a bit more snappy when he's stressed, but you won't see him lash out or snap, more like a snarky comment here and there. Jade and Floyd will likely not mess around with him when he's stressed since they can't get a usually-flustered Azul out of him.

If he has an s/o, he will also be super clingy. It's not that surprising since he loves attention, but his s/o might have trouble studying themselves having to take care of Azul. The two of them should probably set up study dates instead if he wants to be around them 24/7.

Kalim

Probably has the healthiest work-life balance ever. He is rarely stressed out and if anything probably causes more stress to Jamil haha

He gets stressed out when he's dealing with a lot of exams (like most students) but he also gets stressed when he has a crush but has no idea how to approach it. So, he gets stressed out in more emotional, intimate things

You will likely never see this man stressed out, but if you do, you won't really notice it. He's surprisingly good at hiding how much pressure he's going through, but if you look closely you'll see that he's a bit jumpier than usual. He also has a bigger appetite, so expect frequent visits to Sam's shop for some snacks

If he has an s/o, he's also super clingy and wants them to take care of him. If the two of them are in the same class that he's stressed about, then the two of them definitely have all-nighters together. If he has a crush on someone, he will almost avoid them like the plague since he wants to approach them at the right time but has no idea if he can actually find a right timing

Vil

Constantly under pressure but never shows it. He has lived under immense pressure since he was a little kid, so he also thinks having no pressure at all is a little weird (though he wants a good break)

It's his career that stresses him out the most, more than his work at school. Sure, there are times students at Pomefiore put him off, but he's always stressed out about maintaining the perfect image whenever he has to go for a modeling event or when he's trying out for a new role for an upcoming film.

This man will be extremely cold when he's stressed out. He's more ruthless as a dorm leader when he's stressed, likely pointing out mishaps from students here and there without mincing his words. He also tends to distance himself from others since he knows he's not that good with words when he's stressed out and he also doesn't want to use more energy talking to people

If he has an s/o, he will likely distance himself from them for a little bit. He loves them yes, but he doesn't want them to know he's going through a lot and would rather have them not worry about him. If his s/o gives him something nice though, he'll be super grateful about it

Idia

He's not always stressed out but he does get stressed from time to time. He doesn't like taking exams, but the thing that stresses him out the most is having to be around a lot of people for a long time (think school events)

During Halloween he's probably a bit more on edge than usual. Either way, he gets stressed when he wants to make new friends or show that he's not a scary or weird person but he doesn't know if he's doing well conversing with others. To him, he'd rather talk to people online than go through having to make eye-contact or having to meet someone physically

He's just detached when he's stressed, will drink more energy drinks than usual too. He barely sleeps, but he'll pull more all-nighters than usual. Idia also doesn't want his younger brother knowing he's stressed out so he tries to distance himself for a little while. He doesn't have the energy to talk to people that much so he spends more time just on his bed and trying to relax when he can

If he has an s/o, he might distance himself from them but end up getting clingy. He won't downright pull his s/o to a nap like Leona but he will want them to just spend some time with him playing video games to de-stress. He might not tell them at first, but once he and his s/o get closer, then he'll likely just text them at 3am if they want to come over to play some games

Malleus

This man almost seems too perfect because he's just so good at every class, is quite charismatic, and just seems to have his life together. But that's not always the case!

He gets stressed from time to time if homework piles up but he gets more stressed out when he worries someone he cares about doesn't care about him back the same amount that he does. This usually goes the most with an s/o if he has one

When he is stressed out, he tends to distance himself from people similar to some of the other dorm leaders. However, he isn't really harsh with words, he just spends more time alone. He does, however, get angry more easily. Either lightning flashes outside when he gets pushed a little too hard or he just gives whatever is bothering him a mean glare like >:( for a good two minutes before Lilia's like "yo r u good"

If he has an s/o, he's super clingy without knowing it. He may want them to do more study dates at first. He'll sit across from them in the library but as time goes on he's somehow sitting right next to them, one arm around them, and like really close. Having a chill time with someone he cares about reaffirms that he does have people that care for him and it also helps him de-stress a lot.

#twst #twst imagines #twisted wonderland #twst scenarios #twst headcanons #twst x reader #twst dorm leaders #twst riddle #twst leona #twst azul #twst kalim #twst vil #twst idia #twst malleus

[talenlee]

Why Is Druid?

Say that like ‘where is Wizard Hut?‘

I love the 4e Druid. This is a marked change from how much I liked the 3e druid, or how often you might see me playing a druid in a Baldur’s Gate game. Back in 3rd edition, the druid, despite being very powerful, never really engaged me, in part perhaps because I was always trying to find something exploitative and powerful rather than merely accepting the juggernaut of a toolkit the game just left in the Player’s Handbook. You couldn’t get clever with the Druid, you just had to pick it up and use it, like some sort of society of creative anachronisms where one of the anachronisms available to the players was has gun. Valid, but hardly sporting.

The Druid in 4th edition is different. Wildly different. Weirdly different, and different in one of those ways that shows what I think of as a seam in the design between 4th and 3rd editions of D&D.

The Druid was one of 3rd edition’s great mistakes, a full spellcasting class with healer capacity to serve as a pinch-hitter healer in a group that wanted things a little more varied, addressing an enormously complex potential build from its earlier edition, 2e, and all in the process, resulting in some deeply confused mash up of abilities that attempted to address confusion with volume. The druid of 2e had a special unique set of rules compared to the Cleric — for example, at a certain level, you passed into a specific category of Druidic ability and now you were technically a Hierophant, and Hierophants had seven extra spells of every level. Of course there was a limited supply of Hierophants in the world, so there was a question of if you could level up if another one existed, and maybe there’s a one-in, one-out policy? First in, first fired?

Anyway, I can’t speak to how it played, but I am at least aware, on the edges of it, that the 2e druid was odd. It had a lot of things it could do, but much of how it worked, reading the books, seemed to be interesting but challenging to manage. You could wild shape, you could heal, you could cast utility spells, you could even fight with some melee weapons — personally, I didn’t see any of it worth it, because none of the things it could do it could do very well.

3e addressed this seeming difficulty by instead taking all those different options and bringing them all up to the same level. Wild Shape worked by checking traits of monster units, which meant that you weren’t limited to specific reinterpretations of animals and instead could do what a druid feels like it should do — you know, turn into an animal. The spells were rebalanced and shared across different classes, which meant that they tended to work in a more standardised way. Armour rules were aggregated, and weapons were made less terrible.

The result was that the 3e druid went from being ‘decent’ at a bunch of things to ‘good’ at everything it wanted to do. The problem of the druid then became about picking the thing you wanted to at every opportunity, and doing a good job of it — you’d have druids carrying wands of healing so they could dedicate their spell slots to more important tasks, like Flame Striking opponents, or messing up the battlefield with roots. You’d also see druids keeping the ‘best’ list of animals on hand, and every new monster book presented a new chance for druids to develop a new best form.

It also created the strange question of What does the druid do?

The answer was ‘everything.’

The 4e Druid, in comparison and contrast to these designs is something very different that touches, at best, on the periphery of what the 3e Druid could be. I mean it stands to reason, you can only ever touch on doing everything when something you’re working from is so powerful. 4e with its role system of Defender, Striker, Leader and Controller, and its reliable, reusable balance math suddenly was confronted with fitting an elephant into a shoebox.

How do you represent something busted that could do everything in the context of a new system that sought to explicitly prevent that? I joked when the game was new that the four roles were Defender, Striker, Leader and Miscellaneous. That any class too powerful, with too much stuff it could potentially do, got thrown to the Controller role as suggested by the first Controller we ever saw being the Wizard. Oh and back in Player’s Handbook 1, the Wizard had a few builds that were pretty ridiculously pushed — the pinball wizard, I’ll talk about it sometime — and that meant that it was easy to feel like the Controller Does Everything.

That impression diluted through experience, of course, and eventually it came to that while yes, the Controller sure has some Miscellaneous vibes, the core of what the Controller was there to do was to attack the enemy action economy. Nice and obvious to a non giga-nerd, right? Okay, how about this: The leader lets you do more things, the controller stops them from doing more things?

And into this space, they poured the druid.

It works beautifully, for my tastes; the druid needs to do lots of things to feel properly druidy, but you need to make sure the doing lots of things doesn’t unbalance the game. Controllers have the widest variety of things they can do and ways they can do them – inflicting status conditions, changing enemy position, preventing specific action types, making areas on the battlefield inaccessible, these are all ‘controllery’ things, and that means there’s a lot of different ways you can flavour them. The Invoker is most famous for making zones in the play space hard to deal with, the Wizard has a build that slides things all over the place, and the psion controls people with immense penalties to their damage rolls.

Obligatory pause where, while reading this aloud, for either Fox or I to comment on how amazing it is that Dishearten is an AOE power.

Anyway, the druid was designed to be a mode switcher class. That is, there are two ways a druid can do things. One is a melee controller that makes a single target’s life harder, the other is a ranged controller that makes a large group of enemies’ lives harder. This mode switching then adds a new element to the class that your powers can interact with, where you now have control powers that can add a mode switching element to them as well. This is your Wild Shape – you transform into some kind of nonspecific beast, which can use your Wild Shape powers. Each form has fewer powers to manage, and you can build your druid to specialise in one or the other or do a mix.

This lets the druid do the ‘a lot’ without letting them actually do everything. You have a lot of choices and a lot of ways to play with those pieces, but even just how often you use the mode switch is part of what the druid does to control the battlefield. When I first played a druid, it was not uncommon to start a fight out of wild shape, use the first turn to make some kind of area control power, then shift into wild shape for the rest of the fight kicking people into that area control power. There are druids builds that work like wizards and only ever shapeshift to get away from problems, and make a hit while scuttling away, or to sit on a specific type of problem. There were druids who focused on summoning monsters and using them as kind of turrets on the battlefield, positioning allies in a way that benefitted them around those summons.

Lone artillery combat encounters, where you have a bunch of stuff in front of a long-ranged attacker? Druids love those. Even at level 1, that artillery is spending their days completely stuck underneath a Fire Hawk power.

Problem is, of course, that if you want to do Everything doing a Lot is going to miss something. That was what led to the subclasses of the druid, the ones that added healer elements to the druid, because the druid back in 3e could do that. It added animal companions, because the druid back in 3e could do that. Now I don’t worry too much about these things because if I wanted an animal companion on my Druid, I’d take a theme for that, but also because these changes were introduced in an Essentials book.

Which is to say, they’re crap.

They’re not crap crap, like I try to defend Essentials as giving players a choice for simplified character builds, but in the specific case of the Essentials Druids, in order to work with the simplified choices, these Essentials druids with their animal companions and their healing powers have to look at all other Druid powers and not use them. The only use they get out of their animal companion is using the specific subset of powers that make them work, and that makes combat more samey. But again: That’s a thing you probably want if you want a simplified build.

Still, it gives rise to my favourite joke – I mean like, funny thing, not really a joke, there’s no subversion of reality or anything here – about the Healer Druid. See, every Leader in the game gets an encounter power, usable twice a combat at level 1, that heals an ally with a bonus. Every class gets their own version that lets them distinguish their class specifically and add some interesting detail that shows how this Leader differs from other Leaders.

The Healer druid build gets Healing Word.

The Cleric power.

Literally, the same power, same name, listed as a Cleric power.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

#DnD 4e #Dungeons & Dragons #Games

[mumms-the-word]

Shadow Curse Events Pt. 2

Harpers, druids, and the battle against Ketheric

So in Part 1, I talked about Ketheric’s descent into Sharran zealotry and his attacks against all Selûnite faithful and anyone who so much as breathed a bad word about him. The TLDR is that Ketheric didn’t just become a follower of Shar, he basically became the Prophet-General of her new dark army, her Chosen, establishing new teachings and protocols for what defined a Dark Justiciar. It got so bad, and he became so powerful, that a leader of the Selûnite resistance, Ketheric's own master mason Morfred, made a deal with Raphael to take out his Justiciars just to hopefully give the Harpers a chance.

Because, to no one's surprise, all of this murder and fearmongering has captured the attention of the Harpers, who feel the need to step in and restore some balance.

The rest of this post is basically going to be about the Harper-druid battle against Ketheric and the siege of Reithwin, culminating in him getting sealed up in his tomb. Buckle up and be prepared for a couple of graphic war things (cw: animal death). Part 3 will be about the first few days of the shadow curse itself, because I just find that eerie and fascinating.

Full deep dive under the cut! Super long post ahead :'>

———

The moment is nigh; war has been brewing, and now it overflows. When Ketheric turned us toward Shar, I followed him - in appearance, if not in heart. This is my home, and I would not be removed from it, no matter what. I watched at a distance as the darkness here grew; as Ketheric's grief brought him farther and farther from life itself. As he gathered his army, I prayed for his defeat. As the Harpers march upon our little village - our little, beautiful village - I can only hope Ketheric will be felled at last, and Reithwin can begin to heal from this nightmare.

Let me briefly set the stage. Reithwin Town is under the governance of Ketheric Thorm, former Selûnite-turned-Chosen-of-Shar. All Selûnite worship has been driven underground. Dark Justiciars train in some elusive location outside and beneath town, only to return in order to interrogate the citizens of Reithwin about their loyalties to Shar and to Ketheric. Bodies are hanging in the square as an example to those who might think about dissenting or professing their faith in Selûne. People are going missing or being executed every day, and Ketheric's desire to expand Shar's influence beyond the borders of Reithwin is only growing stronger. Rumors abound that he's already completely destroyed a nearby village, another Selûnite refuge called Moonhaven. And now, the citizens of Reithwin hear whispers on the wind that the Harpers will soon arrive from the east...and they're bringing an army.

If a citizen were to wish to flee, they'd be nearly out of luck. The Harpers are coming from the east, but Baldur's Gate lies in the west, and the leadership in Baldur's Gate is already suspicious. Ketheric has drawn the attention of Grand Duke Eltan, the founder of the Flaming Fist and the good-aligned general who aided the heroes of BG1 (like Jaheira) during the Sarevok crisis. He's heard whispers of a Sharran enclave and has ordered a scout to go and investigate. That scout is Art Cullagh.

Incidentally, in the last post I suggested that these events are happening either between 1371-1374 or between 1396-1399. We don't know when Grand Duke Eltan died, so either theory still holds water (pick whichever you like best), but I do think his involvement moves the needle a little more towards the 1371-1374 theory. Eltan has just wrapped up the Sarevok adventure with Jaheira and the other heroes in 1368 and was dealing with other issues in 1369. He would still be in the height of his power as a leader of Baldur's Gate and the Grand Marshal of the Flaming Fist in the early 1370s. So he would have a vested interest in trying to maintain peace in his city, and that includes investigating rumors of civil unrest and strange darkness in a town just up the river from him to make sure that whatever is happening there doesn't come downriver.

Eltan sends Art Cullagh, a lieutenant/officer of the Flaming Fist (and virtuoso with a lute, as we well know). I won't post images of his orders here, since it's a letter most of us have likely read when trying to fix the shadow curse. But essentially, he's ordered to take lodgings in Last Light Inn and begin his investigation in the House of Healing to confirm rumors of corruption and Sharran influence in town. We know he attempts to fulfill these commands because he's seen at the inn and later his lute is left behind at the House of Healing.

Shadow Vestige: You see a man drain his tankard in an inn as he listens to a Flaming Fist play the lute. He's better than his uniform might suggest.

Around the same time that Art is preparing to travel down and begin investigating, the Harpers are already at work gathering an army. They're not just making Ketheric their convenient enemy—they're declaring all-out war.

They've gathered their evidence (after interrogating locals and possibly attempting to assassinate Ketheric from afar) and now they're ready to take the fight to him directly. But they need backup. So they write to the Emerald Enclave (not to be confused with the Emerald Grove) to arrange an alliance. Ketheric is going against nature, after all, and who better to call on for aid in preserving nature than the Emerald Enclave?

[The first few inches of this scroll are written in formal, elaborate script.] To the Emerald Enclave, and those deemed worthy to see this record, greetings from Those Who Harp. Know ye that the one known as Ketheric Thorm, a paladin of Shar, is guilty of crimes against body and spirit. They include, but are not limited to Murder, Slavery, and Desecration of Temples Most Holy. Let our intent be known: an alliance between the Harpers and the Emerald Enclave. United, we may end Thorm's reign of terror. The High Harpers eagerly await your good word.

The Emerald Enclave is massive, since it basically serves as the high council and umbrella organization for all druidic circles and groves that exist in Faerûn (or those who choose to align with the Emerald Enclave's tenants anyway). When the Harpers declare an alliance with the Enclave, those in charge of selecting allies make sure to enlist the druid circle that is local to that area, the Emerald Grove, since they will be the closest and have a stake in preserving the land around their grove. The Emerald Grove even immortalizes this alliance in their inner sanctum.

Image: Mural of Harpers and Druids shaking hands in front of an oak; Narrator reads: "In darkest hour, a concord made / 'Twixt harp and wild against the shade." Image: Mural of Harpers and druids stand back to back with the fallen armor of Dark Justiciars at their feet; Narrator reads: "The towers seized, the battle done / the moonrise broke the Darkest One."

It's possible that the Emerald Grove was the only circle that joined or was even asked to be in the battle, but perhaps the Enclave sent more. The Harpers needed an army, after all, and Jaheira says they numbered hundreds strong. Either way, the infamous Halsin Silverbough and his predecessor, the Archdruid in charge before him, are among the druids who join the army, though they never meet Jaheira in the battle.

Jaheira: The Archdruid Halsin. Do not be surprised that I know your name - you fit a rather singular description. And one survivor of the shadow curse's fall ought to know another. Halsin: We never actually got to meet, when fighting Ketheric that first time. Jaheira: No. We were a host hundreds strong, after all. Until we were not.

With the druids and Harpers finally aligned, they can at last march on Reithwin and begin their siege.

So let me pause for a moment to confess that the battle itself is...hard to track. Some characters (Halsin, Jaheira) and some accounts suggest that the battle only takes up about one day. The battle seems to either be contained to the banks of the Chionthar, or it spreads into the town to eventually reach Moonrise Towers. Other accounts, like the Harper's Testimonial, suggest the battle raged for three straight days outside of Moonrise alone before Ketheric descended personally into the field. Notes and letters from the House of Healing suggest the siege may have taken even longer, because supplies dwindled to dangerously low levels. Trying to reconcile all these accounts is tricky.

It's important to note that sieging a town doesn't always mean active fighting, it just means cutting off supplies and travel, keeping everyone out, or keeping everyone in, so it's possible the town was under siege for much longer than the battle that was actually fought. So the following is my best interpretation for the events, in an order that makes semi-logical sense to me. Some of this is complete conjecture. But feel free to come up with your own timelines!

Shadow Vestige: You sense a faded memory of marching in an army against Ketheric Thorm. Victory seemed possible back then.

The plan is to lay siege to Reithwin Town and force Ketheric to surrender. Failing that, siege the town until the army is too weak from hunger to fight well, then push forward into Moonrise Towers and kill Ketheric.

Part of the Chionthar divides Reithwin from the rest of the village outskirts (as you can see on the map), making three bridges the only access into town if you're approaching from the east as the Harpers and druids would have done (unless, of course, you want to get wet or you can fly). On one side of the river is the town proper. On the other, Last Light Inn and several farms.

If the Harpers barricade the bridges, or the Justiciars build barricades to keep them out, then Reithwin is cut off from everything on the east side of the river. Cut off the farms, and Reithwin loses food. Cut off travel and trade from the east, and Reithwin is forced to look to the west for supplies...but Baldur's Gate is to the west, and Grand Duke Eltan is already suspicious. He will not be a friend to Ketheric Thorm. Reithwin is essentially (if not literally) boxed in.

It's a good siege plan...in theory, anyway. And if the Harpers lay siege while waiting for their army to grow, waiting for the druids to join them, etc., then it helps them in two ways. It starves out and weakens the enemy and gives them time to increase their own strength.

For a while, the seige seems to be working.

Whether it was the Harpers or the Justiciars who built the barricades and pickets along the bridge, Reithwin is now officially under siege, and trade and supplies start to trickle nearly to a stop. The number of travelers through the tollhouse drastically dwindles, until eventually it seems to be cut off entirely. Reithwin begins to suffer food shortages, enough that the veterinarian in town is forced to butcher some of the stable's horses to provide food. And it's not just horses, judging by the evidence we find elsewhere in town, like the missing pets posters and the pile of bloodied cat and dog collars outside of the tollhouse.

(Ugh I hate it so much. But the Harpers are determined to win. And yes, while some of the food shortage stuff could have been Ketheric failing at governing his town appropriately, a siege makes more sense to me.)

At some point (days? weeks?) Ketheric likely says enough is enough. The battle must begin or he will lose his town and his army to starvation, especially with winter quickly approaching. Alternatively, the Harpers themselves grow tired of waiting. They see that their siege is doing little to sway Ketheric and decide that the only thing left to do is attack.

Either way, the battle will begin on the morrow.

On the eve of the first day of the battle, many Harpers and druids bunk at Last Light Inn, likely including Jaheira and Halsin (who both remember the inn as it was before the shadow curse). Art Cullagh is also staying there. Whether he has already visited the House of Healing and lost his lute there is uncertain, though I think it's likely. Perhaps he visited before Reithwin was sieged, or visited during the siege but before the fighting started. Perhaps he is there in the inn when the Harpers toast one another the night before the battle. The Harpers no doubt expect a hard-fought but certain victory. I can only wonder what Art must have thought, watching them, if he was there that same night.

Shadow Vestige: You glimpse a young Harper on the eve of battle against Thorm, long ago. He and his comrades toast each other in Last Light.

The next day, the battle begins.

Ketheric is a remarkable general who understands how to rouse his soldiers. Minthara describes him, even a century later, as "everything a general should be - a charismatic leader with a brilliant strategic mind." He knows his soldiers and those who would volunteer to join his army are going hungry and are fearful of what the winter might bring to their seiged town. Whether they are Dark Justiciars or not, they're mortal. More mortal than he is. So he gathers them together to bolster their morale before the battle.

[A record of Ketheric Thorm's speech to his troops before his victory over the druids and Harpers.] Take this. You there, take this from me. That is gold, friends. Let those who are coveters and cravens among you take my gold and go. There's enough to keep you warm in winter. But in those cold and lonely winters to come, you will look into the bought flames in the purchased hearth and see a bargained-for peace, and then you'll realise that such a retirement comes at the price of pride. Go on and take it. Take it and go. Those who are not afraid and me? We won't stop you. But neither shall we know a winter in which the coin of regret is idly spent. Instead we shall know blood, and fury, and a triumph worthy of a flame reconcileable only with heaven, I swear it! Against us arrayed is a group of fools - let them be our bank vault! Let us raid them, friends! Let us grow rich on screams!

The Harper Testimonial suggests that Ketheric himself did not enter the battle until day three. I can imagine Ketheric giving such a speech and then watching from the towers (a good vantage point to view the battle below) as his Dark Justiciar army descends on hundreds of Harpers and druids, knowing that victory is well in hand. His Justiciars have trained hard and ritually killed a celestial being, after all. They are an elite force.

~1~ A Harper's Testimonial: The Last Stand of Ketheric Thorm, Chosen of Shar. [The pursuant text describes a battle between Ketheric Thorm's faithful and magical Harper forces.] I do not know what magic the Dark Justiciars summoned to our plane. But if it came from the Weave, then let it be cursed for eternity. For three days, we sieged the Towers. For three days, their darkbolts cleaved our ranks. And on the third day, as his men and woman at last began to fall, Ketheric entered battle.

(The Harper might be conflating the Towers with Reithwin itself, or perhaps I'm wrong about this theory and the Harper is only talking about a secondary battle that happened right outside the Towers. Either way, putting it here because the information is extremely relevant, but here's your warning that there's plenty of conjecture ahead!)

The Harpers and druids clash with the Justiciars on the east banks of the Chionthar, slaughtering each other around ballistae, barricades, and battering rams, trying to push forward across the bridges and docks that connect the tollhouse with the village outskirts. This is no mere skirmish. The ground is slick with blood as Dark Justiciars fight to keep the Harpers and druids from advancing forward into town and reaching Moonrise. Dead and wounded soon begin to litter the ground. The battle is so brutal that vestiges of it remain even a century later, identifiable at a glance.

Character comments regarding the centuries-old remains of the battle around the main bridge into the tollhouse. Astarion: This battlefield must've ran slick with blood - I can taste it in the air, even after so long. Lae'zel: There was a great battle here. The ground stained red with blood long dried. Gale: The site of no ordinary skirmish. This was once a battlefield, and a bloody one, too, judging by the number of bodies. Shadowheart: These aren't the remains of some skirmish - whole armies clashed here once. Wyll: A great battle was fought here - I can practically hear the din of blade against blade, axe against shield. Karlach: This is a battlefield. An old one, but still. Jaheira: Forces from the Emerald Grove. Many stood against Ketheric - only we lucky few survived him. Halsin: A great many druids once stood here to fight Ketheric Thorm. Few ever left. Minthara: Remains of those who stood against Ketheric in the past.

Dark Justiciars rain down darkbolts on the Harpers and druids, bolts of pure darkness that deal moderate damage and can daze the victim. Healers among the Harper and druid ranks begin to get overwhelmed by the amount of wounded. Many of the dead are left abandoned on the field, the fighting too intense to stop and take them away for burial. Most are never recovered.

As the battle rages on for one day, two days, three days, things are growing dire for the citizens inside the town, some of whom are cowering as the battle gets closer and closer, spilling out onto the streets of Reithwin and surging toward Moonrise Towers. The House of Healing is trying to tend to the wounded and the sick, operating as both a regular clinic and a war hospital. Because the siege (and now the battle) has stopped all supplies from entering the town, their potions and tonics are running dangerously low. Additionally, though the House of Healing should technically be offering aid to any wounded person, no matter their faith or creed, Ketheric issues an order that all Selûnites or Harpers must be turned away and that all healing items must be focused on Dark Justiciars alone—an order that his surgeon uncle, Malus, strictly enforces.

[This exhaustive log lists each and every patient to have sought healing in Reithwin, along with their ailments. The minor injuries and common diseases of the early pages give way to critical wounds and deep lacerations - the repercussions of battle. Several unbound scrolls have been slid among the final pages, demanding that healers turn away wounded Harpers and Selûnites, and reserve their tonics for wounded Dark Justiciars - on the orders of General Ketheric Thorm.]

(If Art Cullagh hasn't visited the House of Healing already, he likely can't now.)

The House is still operating as a clinic, accepting patients who come in with ailments or injuries, but they're ordered to essentially ignore them. Malus even forbids the use of sleep aids and anesthetics to ease the pain or passing of the elderly and mortally wounded. Soon they begin turning away even Sharran citizen patients, or leaving them untreated, like the husband of one Cleric of Shar who comes to the House of Healing to be treated for an unknown malady. The husband never realizes that he is suffering the damage that his wife should be getting as she takes on "whole troops" of Harpers single-handedly and walks away without a scratch. He dies, forgotten, either a victim of the shadow curse or of his wife's warding bond.

Things grow so dire that at least one nurse, Sister Anna Lidwin, pens a note to the Chief Chirurgeon (surgeon) of Harbourside Hospital (which is itself kinda sketchy) requesting aid. Potions, herbs, clerics, anything that can help.

To: Chief Chirurgeon, Harbourside Hospital, Baldur's Gate From: Sister Anna Lidwin, Darkcloak, Reithwin House of Healing URGENT! Dear Sir or Madam, We have reached dire times in Reithwin. War has come. Do you not teach that it is our duty to mend all who break, comfort all who ail, without regard for the gods they worship or the champions they heed? Yet our surgeon Malus Thorm abides by his own creed. 'The will of Shar', he might say, and I dare not argue with him - or any Thorm. He allows supplies to dwindle, leaves some patients' injuries to fester so he may 'study', and commands me to nurse only Dark Justiciars that seek treatment. I beg you, Sir or Madam - please deliver us aid, so I might close every tear and cleanse every wound, even those of Harpers and Selûnites. We will humbly accept all you can offer: potions, herbs, sutures, even clerics. Help us to heal. With gratitude, Anna Lidwin

The letter is never sent. It lies abandoned in the House of Healing even a century later. Perhaps she wrote it on the final day of battle and was caught by the shadow curse as she was trying to tend to the wounded.

For the Harpers and druids, the battle has taken a turn for the worse. Ketheric's Dark Justiciars seem overwhelmingly powerful and the damage this battle is doing is only increasing, especially as it spills into town. Eventually, the Harpers weigh the cost of victory and elect to surrender. They get Khelben Arunsun, the Blackstaff himself, to write the surrender letter (whether he was physically there at the battle or not is uncertain).

Ketheric denies the surrender.

General Ketheric Thorm: It is with heavy heart that I must announce the surrender of the Harper forces and its allies to your Dark Justiciar army, under unanimous agreement. 'Harpers work against villainy and wickedness wherever they find it…' So states our code, and so here have we acted. But I also know, all too well, how the statement continues: '… but they work ever mindful of the consequences of what they do.' We cannot be party to the suffering of the people of Reithwin, and indeed, of the great loss of life that this war will visit upon the Sword Coast - and, perhaps, beyond it. So it is written, and so let it be done, Khelben Arunsun, on behalf of the High Harper Council and its allies. [Two words are slashed across the bottom of the scroll:] SURRENDER DECLINED

Ketheric rejects the surrender and clamps it in the jaws of some poor dead soul whose head or skull is then set on a pike at the battlefield (knowing him, it was probably the messenger who brought the surrender letter). The Harpers and druids keep fighting. They have no other choice. It's fight or be slaughtered.

It's the third day. Something has shifted in the ranks. Dark Justiciars are falling in battle, and for once, reinforcements aren't coming. Unbeknownst to the Harpers and druids, an infernal force is destroying Justiciars in Grymforge and in the Gauntlet of Shar. The Harpers and druids at last have a fighting chance.

And that's when Ketheric joins the battle.

The details of this part of the battle are lost to time. We know from Minthara that Ketheric is absolutely fearless in battle. She describes him as a man who leads his troops from the front and cuts through the enemy “like a scythe through stalks.” I suspect that even back then, when the blows and arrows rain down on him as they do when Minthara fights with him a century later, he does not readily fall or falter. With immortality practically guaranteed, he likely butchers more Harpers and druids than they dared imagine possible for one man. The hundreds that made up the original army of Harpers and druids have been winnowed and cut down until only, as Jaheira says, a lucky few remain. The dead number so high for Halsin that he says it would take him a day and night recite all the names of the friends he lost in this battle.

But eventually, somehow, the Harpers and druids at last defeat Ketheric and eliminate all the remaining Justiciars that are still fighting topside. Ketheric suffers a seemingly mortal wound and falls. He utters a "final curse" as he dies and then withers, according to one Harper at least. The effects of this spoken curse are not immediately apparent. For now, the Harpers and druids feel they have won a victory at last, but the curse, whatever it is meant to be, clearly spooks them. Perhaps they think that by sealing Ketheric in the mausoleum, they can avoid the effects of his last dying words.

The Harpers drag Ketheric's corpse from the battlefield and leave him in a tomb in the mausoleum. Jaheira (and possibly Halsin) personally helps other Harpers and Druids seal the mausoleum doors using arcane sigils.

Player: If he's back, perhaps you should have hit him harder in the first place. Jaheira: Believe me - he was well and truly dead. I locked his corpse in the Thorm mausoleum myself.

Halsin: These sigils...druids and Harpers alike tried to seal away Ketheric Thorm in his foul tomb. To no avail.

The remaining Harpers and druids think that this final act of sealing Ketheric away signals a hard-won victory. Jaheira and the other Harpers turn to the task of removing bodies from the battlefield to bury them at Last Light. Halsin and the other druids likely also focus on tending to their dead and wounded, while the surviving citizens of Reithwin breathe unsteady sighs of relief or resignation...until the late autumn air suddenly takes on a midwinter chill.

The shadow curse is only just beginning.

———

Tags for those who wanted the update! @fingons-rad-harp @stuffforthestash

Feel free to request a tag update for Part 3!

#bg3 #bg3 lore #bg3 meta #bg3 critical #bg3 discourse #my thoughts #deep dive #long post #super long post #ketheric thorm #halsin #halsin silverbough #jaheira #do not ask me how many times I rearranged sections and images #each post has me feeling more and more like that guy in always sunny in philadelphia #just red string and papers and pepe silvia but make it bg3

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I re-read your Fellow Honest study, and one thing to mention is that Riddle is immensely proud of having no one drop out or transfer out of Heartslabyul/NRC, right? His dorm is the only one at full capacity? This means dropping out of NRC isn't that uncommon, whether it's a money issue or a grades issue, and that's more people discarded simply because they couldn't keep up.

[Referencing this analysis!]

Mmm, that's true 🤔 I wonder how NRC's dropout rates compare to those of other magic schools and regular schools that do not train mages... I can't imagine that NRC has a ton of dropouts though, because otherwise I feel like more dorm leaders and staff would express concern about it? Like if a ton of students were dropping out, it would reflect poorly on their leadership and teaching skills, wouldn't it...? Maybe it's not mentioned because it isn't that relevant to the main story or Riddle in particular is super fixated on it (given how strict he is). At the very least, we know that NRC has a non-zero dropout rate. Even at a school that supposedly has the best and brightest mages-in-training, some will not make the cut.

As cruel as this may sound (sorry, Fellow), it's 100% understandable from a school's perspective why they wouldn't want to keep supporting students who continuously do not succeed and ultimately dismiss them. Many programs irl (especially those in higher education) set standards that students must meet and maintain until graduation if they want to remain in their program. It could harm the school's educational reputation if they do not produce "results".

In some cases, schools that fail to maintain a certain "pass" rate on specialized exams their students take may lose accreditation (an official “quality seal”) for their program(s). For example, irl nursing programs in the U.S. and Canada are put on probation if they have a class of students with an 80% or lower passing score on the NCLEX exam. They are given 2 years to "fix" this low passing rate; if this is not corrected, then the school's accreditation is revoked completely. A loss of accreditation can result in many other negatives, such as less financial aid dispersement and fewer job opportunities (/your diploma not being seen as “legitimate”).

That's unfortunately how it works. Granted, a school shouldn’t spite a student for not being able to keep up with the workload (which sadly may have been the reality for Fellow), but it really is in the institutions’ best interests to drop a student they fear won’t perform well.

#twisted wonderland #twst #notes from the writing raven #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Riddle Rosehearts #Fellow Honest