#i did have some other d&d characters with different races

[rizardofether]

Came up with yet another story idea, this time a very heavily D&D based, using the races classes and basic fantasy setting of a D&D story. I decided to use characters I've made for D&D though never got to play in any games. Some old some new.

I've named the story just "The Treasure Hunt" as that is what is going on in it, sticking with that unless I later come up with something better.

Why are nearly all of them tieflings? Uhh.. they're from a country that mostly consists of tieflings, the royalty and nobles are mostly tieflings as well.. yup.. Not at all me having a bias towards one race, not at all..

Ennui, an amnesiac tiefling warlock, seeking their past and to cure the old couple that found and took them in of their illness.

Joy, the tiefling bard who enjoys having and spending money, as well as killing people. Easy way to earn money and kill people as an adventurer going after bandits and such.

Amatheus, a tiefling warlock, ex-wizard apprentice who faked it by making a deal with an archfey. Said archfey however made him promise to let them possess his body at times.

Sly, a tiefling rogue who grew up in the woods, never knowing their parents. A young curious soul seeking adventure. And mischief.

Ralus, a tiefling sorcerer who accidentally set his house on fire as a child. Grew up on the streets as an urchin after his mother disappeared one night. Seeking money and glory to win a better life for himself.

Kilvir, a tiefling wizard who loves making potions. He became a wizard at a young age and had also studied alchemy, creating potions as his career. His ambition to create new potions led to him spending most of his money, having to seek out other ways to earn money for his business.

Ririn, a goblin wizard who lost his family when he was young, and is seeking ways to bring them back. In this world you can only bring dead back to life if they died very recently, and alas it was too late to earn enough money to revive them. Now the only answer is necromancy.

This group of misfits meets when they each hear about a treasure hunt inviting all those interested in earning large amounts of money or just the adventure. They decide to team up for safety in numbers, few would dare venture into dungeons in search of treasure alone after all.

While I don't generally like giving my characters hard set moral alignments, I did decide to give them ones just for fun, I ended up giving each a different alignment. With 7 members, nearly every alignment is there. Just no lawful neutral or lawful evil in there. Guess who the two evil aligned characters are haha

#art #my art #character design #the treasure hunt #ennui #joy #amatheus #sly #ralus #kilvir #ririn #i did have some other d&d characters with different races #but they barely had any personality or even backstory #i mostly just designed them for fun #guess i could have left them very vague so i could adjust them to any setting i wanted #i can probably use them as side characters in this story #i even came up with two new side characters connected to kilvir already #i'm all out of art juice by now though #ennui and joy are both from this year #amatheus i sketched last year but only properly finished a picture for the first time now #the rest are way back from 2017 #redraws sligth changes to kilvir and a near total redesign for ririn #i only took the basic idea of how their original clothes were for ririn #i even changed their race #they were originally a halfling i thought hehe the least edgy seeming race #but i decided i do want to show their face and so they need to be a less humanoid race #so goblin for the small non-human looking race #oh yeah ennui and joy's outfits are designed by a different artist i commissioned art of them for #could not figure out a full outfit design for either of them #clothes are hard in general

[littledeludeddupes]

i have my own gripes about the bg3 character creator but honestly its one of the only times i can remember seeing a curly hair option and thinking "oh that actually looks just like my hair texture" curly hair usually looks pretty bad in video games. we finally have the technology i guess

#i also love the different scale patterns for the dragonborn #i think theyre pretty well executed and i wish they had some of the other exotic character races like tabaxi and goblinoids #its a crazy move to have the only non phb race be the githyanki i respect that a lot #i DID play d&d for 7 years so i still care about this a bit lol

[dailyadventureprompts]

Do the ethnostates inherent in major fantasy ever feel real weird to you? You’ve got elftopia (full of elves, where everyone speaks elf and worships the elf gods), orc-hold (full of orcs and maybe their slaves, where everyone speaks orc and worships the orc gods), and dwarfton (made by the dwarves! for the dwarves!).

You might have some cosmopolitan areas, usually human-dominant, but those are usually rare enough in-setting that they need to be pointed out separately. Is this just based on a misunderstanding of the medieval era, and the assumption that countries were all racially homogenous?

This has been bouncing around my brain the last little while. Do you have any thoughts on that? Is it just in my head?

I think what you've noticed is a quirk of derivative fantasy writing, which like a lot of hangups with the genre originates in people trying to crib Tolkien's work without really understanding what he was going for:

Though it contains a lot of detail, Tolkien's world is not grounded. It functions according a narrative logic that changes depending on what work in particular you're focusing on at the time (The Hobbit is a fairytale full of tricks and riddles, Lord of the Rings is a heroic epic, The Silmirilion is a legendary history).

One of the reasons the races are separate is to instill the feeling of wonder in the hobbits as POV characters for the reader, other folk live in far off places and are supposed to feel more legendary than our comparatively mundane friends from the shire. The Movies captured this well where going east in middle earth was like going back in time to a more and more mythologized past.

In real life, people don't stay static for thousands of years, no matter how long their people live. They meet, mingle, war and trade. Empires rise and fall creating shrapnel as they go, cultures adapt to a changing environment. This means that any geographic cross section you make is going to be a collage of different influences where uniformity is a glaring aberration.

What the bad Tolkien knockoffs did was take his image of a mythical world and tried to make it run in a realistic setting. Tolkien can say the subterranean dwarven kingdom of Erebor lasted for a thousand years without having to worry about birthrates or demographic shifts or the logistics of farming in a cave because he's writing the sort of story where those things don't matter. D&D and other properties like it however INSIST that their worlds are grounded and realistic but have to bend over backwards to keep things static and hegemonic.

Likewise contributing to the "ethnostate" feeling is early d&d (backbone of the fantasy genre that it is) being created by a bunch of White Midwestern Americans who were not only coming from a background of fantasy wargaming but were working during the depths of the coldwar. Hard borders and incompatible ideologies, cultural hegemony and intellectual isolation, a conception of the world that focused around antagonism between US and THEM. These were people born in the era of segregation for whom the idea of cultural and racial osmosis was alien, to the point where mingling between different fantasy races produced the "mongrelman" monster, natural pickpockets who combined the worst aspects of all their component parts, unwelcome in good society who were most often found as slaves.

This inability to appreciate cultural exchange is likewise why the central d&d pantheon has a ton of human gods with specific carveouts for other races (eventually supplemented with a bunch of race specific minor gods who are various riffs on the same thing). Rather than being universal ideals, the gods were seen as entities just as tribalistic as their followers.

#dnd meta #history #tolkien

[bonefall]

while i do agree with the sentiment that bloodclan should be more nuanced as an entity i still believe it is wrong to portray them as the necessary "response" to clan injustice (haven't read the books in years but i am pretty sure that bloodclan started with no connection to the clans) / an opposition to the clan's flaws. some of the thing scourge did was out of selfishness and bloodclan isn't the other colour of the black and white debacle with the clans. the clans are heavily flawed yes, but it isn't realistic to completely say that their structure had no redeeming qualities altogether and that all outsider groups is fundamentally better than the clans.

all clans and groups are flawed in their own way and i believe we shouldnt brush past the things that other groups (the sisters and what they do with their toms *cough cough*) did solely to be able to degrade the clans and their culture.

Buddy, you're setting up a strawman. I promise you that if you look into the reduxes I've made of BloodClan, Guardians, The Sisters, and the Tribe, you will see that I don't make any of them a "flawless" alternative to Clan life.

Nor do I say that the Clans have no redeeming qualities. In fact, you can browse the "Clan Culture" tag to see the various expansions I've made to show how these traditions, values, and technological advances make Clan life so alluring.

The overarching theme of BB is that the nature of culture is change. For better AND for worse.

With respect, I think there's something insidious in the wording of "the things the other groups did." We're talking about fan responses to a work that consistently demonizes and degrades foreigners to make the Clans look like the "best way to live," justifying xenophobia. These are not real groups, they are writing choices.

In the franchise with some pretty extreme examples of misogyny, the authors said "What if bizarro world where women rule and have no men... woag..." and only includes a single Clan-alligned member of this culture, with a BAD opinion of them, who can't even do his diplomatic job because he HATES them so much.

In the same franchise that shows Fireheart getting bullied, facing prejudice, and fighting a murderous tyrant who publically executes a mixed-race character, their endgame villain is an outsider, like him, but this one IS a godless heathen who HATES love and friendship and banned families.

In the VERY same franchise which made its first non-malicious group barely able to get through an arc without needing to be saved by Clan cats, totally unable to defend themselves, framed as "whiny" for not wanting their clearly 'inferior' culture to be forcefully changed.

And I'm re-stating all this because, again, no offense to you in particular Anon, but I've been seeing a few people with a sentiment like yours lately. Complaints into a vacuum that don't make targeted critique of anyone's fanworks, gesturing at this broad "woobification" which is apparently out there somewhere over the rainbow, saying things like "well Scourge is selfish" or "well Moonlight abandoned her 13 year old" as if we haven't BEEN knew.

As if we're not all directly responding to these choices. As if I haven't written ESSAYS on this topic.

Since this was about BloodClan in particular though, and you admit you haven't read the books in years, please go back and actually read Rise of Scourge before trying to make critique of the ways fanon rewrites its origin. It's EXPLICITLY a response to the Clans, in the text, that the Erins wrote, it is canon that fanon is working with.

And you want people to take that out and approach it a different way... why? Because it's so incredulous to you that a nation forms in response to a threatening neighbor? That a common enemy through invasions is a way that people might choose to unite, and encourage their new culture to value brutality? Because you don't like the idea of Clan Culture's XENOPHOBIC BATTLE CULTURE affecting surrounding communities??

Could YOU, maybe, be doing this "woobification" thing I keep hearing about? Can I play this stupid game too? What's our stupid prize? Can it be a lollipop? Do we get stickers

TL;DR, ok.

#bone babble #Warrior cats analysis #Warrior cats fanon #Bloodclan #''Ok yes scourge is practically cold war era xenophobic stereotypes and i understand that is a part of canon you dont like.'' #''But have you considered. Hes mean'' #Yes. Yes i have considered it. #If I get another take like this in my inbox im gojng to fucjing add a scene where he kisses babies and looks at the screen and says #'Mmm wowow thank u for the babygirl juice fire star :)' #JUST to annoy them #People gonna be funny to me? Im about to be Hilarious. #Also ANON just to be clear im annoyed because like. Ive been seeing this around. #Sadly today you are the Genocide Frisk to my Angry Sans u.u #I am taking ur ask and turning it blue and smashing it against walls #Man it would be cool to have bone themed powers... i am a bone guy... #But anon you're fine. Just like. Think about what I said ok?

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Despite Everything - Patrick Bateman X GN Reader

Title: Despite Everything

Patrick Bateman X GN Reader

Additional Characters: N/A

Requested by Anon!

WC: 1,876

Warnings: American Psycho canon violence mentioned, suggestiveness, blood mentioned, death mentioned, murder mentioned, Patrick in general, slight angst, and fluff

Patrick didn't know how he was surviving. If it was anyone else leaving dishes in his sink, he'd downright merc them. He'd find an axe and chase them around his apartment that he strategically covered with some see-through tarp and newspapers, and murder them; chop them up. But, he couldn't do that to you, no, not you. Why? He didn't know. He didn't know how or why his tolerance for you was so strong. Normal people would call it love, even you might've, but Patrick didn't think about it that way. He didn't feel like that about you. But then again, he didn't feel anything most of the time. He's said it before, the only emotions he felt were greed and disgust, aside from rage and bloodlust. 

Patrick met you at one of the Pierce & Pierce business parties. It was a networking event for the company, one where he had to get as many sponsors as possible to ensure a success rate. He didn't really care about that though, he only cared about his personal gain in the long run. But, Patrick did need to socialize, no matter how much he hated to do so, just so he can keep his reputation intact. Wandering around the glamorous room, a glass of scotch in one hand. Observing the room, his ears perked up at the sound of a loud, slightly obnoxious, at least to him, laugh. Turning his gaze towards the sound, he watched as you chuckled, a hand over your mouth, eyes closed with such glee. The small group around you, that you were having a conversation with, didn't chuckle or utter a word. They stared at you until your laughter died down and you noticed their perplexed stares.

You let your smile fall slightly, as you apologized to the group, who only left you alone moments later. You let your smile fully drop after they all left, swirling the glass of champagne in your hand as you let out a small sigh. Eyes dropping to the marble floor, you then scoffed, rolling your eyes as you chugged the rest of your drink before passing the empty glass on a wandering maid's tray. You crossed your arms, your own eyes slowly looking around the room, until they landed on someone else's. The beautiful dark chocolate eyes of Patrick's stared right into yours, making you slightly uncomfortable and flustered at the same time. 

Patrick watched as your eyes landed on his, yours widening ever-so-slightly before you quickly looked away. Patrick's mind raced as he watched your face contort into bashfulness or possible discomfort; he didn't know and he didn't care. He then watched as you broke away from the party, making your way to an open balcony. Patrick, despite himself, followed you. As you made your way outside, Patrick took notice that your hair and attire were also quite different from the other people's at the party, more extravagant; elegant. You, unlike most, had money. He could tell. It wasn't until later that he would find out that you were one of the newest sponsors. 

"Following me?" Your voice had spoken up, making Patrick's eyebrows narrow ever-so-slightly as you turned your head to the side to glance at him.

"Your laughter irritates me. I could slash your throat." He muttered out loud, surprisingly making you let out a mixture between a scoff and a laugh.

You turned around, your back leaning up against the railing of the balcony, "Thank you, quite charming, aren't you?" You spoke sarcastically, crossing your arms over your chest as you stared at Patrick with a small humorless smile.

And that was the beginning of his relationship with you. From a pretty rocky start and bumpy middle, neither of you knew how it would end. You didn't even know how it began to be honest. One minute you were at a boring business party, and the next you were on a date with Patrick Bateman himself. And, it was alright. Yes, Patrick was rude and said terrible things, but you really liked him nonetheless. For some reason, aside from his good looks, you really liked Patrick. You got used to his rude ramblings and threats, only finding out about Patrick's fantasies a couple of weeks after becoming an 'item.' That didn't seem to scare you off like Patrick thought it would.

You questioned yourself constantly in the beginning. Why were you with a guy like Patrick? He said mean things and made small jokes about you. He threatened you one moment and then had you in his bed the next. You didn't know what to make of this strange man and yet, something about him intrigued you. He made you want to know more. To learn everything about him. Only a year into the relationship did you see a slightly notable change in Patrick.

The changes you were noticing though, well, Patrick practically stopped bad-mouthing you altogether. He stopped the name-calling, the terrible comments, and it was nice, amazing really. But, Though he stopped with you, it didn't stop him from doing it to others. Like the waitress at his favorite restaurant, or the taxi driver that drove you both there in the first place.

Patrick even used to threaten you, saying he'd spill your guts if you didn't clean the dirty dishes you left in the sink. He'd say he'd find an axe and chop you up if you didn't put away your unfolded laundry. Patrick hated how messy you could get, but contrary to his past bloody ventures, he'd never really hurt you. Though, he regretted letting you come over most days. He often questioned himself, why he seemed to not have his dark thoughts and fantasies when around you. He was getting soft, and he hated you for it... Most of the time.

~~~

Coming home after a long day at work, Patrick found you on the couch, watching 'I Love Lucy.' Patrick ignored you at first, making his way to his room, before going to the kitchen. He stopped, his dark eyes staring at the kitchen sink, a dirty cup sitting within it. Rage began to boil inside of him, and his hands clenched into fists. His teeth ground together as his eyes burned with anger. His jaw tensed further, and he stalked across the living room, glaring daggers at you. You paid attention to him when he walked up to you, a small smile forming on your lips.

"Hi, Patty, bad day at work?" You asked, tilting your head to the side, as he just stared down at you.

"You left dishes in the sink." He answered slowly, making your eyes widen in shock.

"Oh," You muttered, getting up off the couch, "I did?" You then asked, walking over to the sink and letting out a sigh at the sight of the cup from your coffee. You turned to find Patrick right behind you, almost startling you at how close he was, but he had done that before. You looked up at him, giving him a small apologetic smile, "I'm sorry about that, honey. I got distracted."

Patrick didn't say a word, before he placed his hands around your upper arms, his grip tightening ever-so-slightly before he moved you to the side. You stumbled over your own feet, watching confused as Patrick peeled off his suit jacket, folding it neatly before setting it on the counter and grabbing yellow gloves. Rolling up the sleeves of his crisp white button-up up to his elbows, Patrick began to scrub fiercely at the cup before it was squeaky clean.

You continued watching as he scrubbed the cup with a sponge, you totally understood why Patrick was so angry with you, but your thoughts were mainly on the fact that he didn't threaten you. You knew that he’d never even hurt you in the first place. But, seeing that he was so frustrated, you didn't want to ask him about it or egg him on. You didn't want to upset him even more. 

Given that you were given the opportunity practically on a silver plate, you let your eyes rake over the man in front of you. The way his perfectly combed hair bounced slightly as he aggressively cleaned the dish, the way his dark eyes seemed a slight shade darker as he glared down at the soapy water, and the way his jaw was perfectly clenched, as his muscles flexed with every movement he made. Your breath hitched for a moment, causing your heart to skip a beat when he turned to glare at you, and you quickly pulled your gaze away from him. Your cheeks began to heat up as your fingers itched at the want and need to touch him. Your hand twitches.

"You're so handsome." You spoke up as you looked back up at him, making him freeze. Patrick turned and stared at you, his body tense, his brows furrowed. 

"What?" He finally responded, his voice low as his expression remained the same.

Your smiled adoringly, "You're so handsome," You repeated, "I know you know this, but I just have to say it." Patrick just stared at you as you continued, becoming a bit more shy as you went on, "And I'm sorry for forgetting about the cup. I know how much you strive for perfection. This is your home, and I should clean up after myself as you do at my place." 

You watched as Patrick looked away, not saying a word as he paced the clean cup on the dish rack and pulled off the gloves. Placing his hands on the sink's ledge, he brought his gaze back to you, "Despite everything..." He muttered to himself, he felt himself begin to smile, just a small twitch of his lips. Your heartbeat quickened. It wasn't his usual, sharp and cold grin, it wasn't his scowl. But as quickly as this small, faint smile appeared, it disappeared just as fast.

Turning to you, a different type of grin slowly spread onto his face as he pulled the yellow gloves off his hands. Walking towards you, you walked backward, your back hitting the counter behind you. Your heart began to race as he stepped closer to you, your mouth falling slightly agape. Patrick tilted his head slightly to the side as you tried your best not to stare at those mesmerizingly dark eyes. Reaching out, Patrick grabbed you by the waist, surprising you as he lifted you up; slinging you over his shoulder. You let out a small gasp as you grabbed onto his shoulder, feeling his large, warm hand slide precariously up your thigh, making you squeak.

"Patrick?" You called out softly, your voice filled with confusion and excitement all mixed together as your cheeks burned. Patrick simply tightened his hold on you, his grin growing as he then made his way down the hall and into his bedroom with haste. You let out a huff, rolling your eyes with a smile. It seemed like you had been forgiven.

#cute #fluff #slight angst #x reader #x gn reader #x you #x y/n #american psycho #fanfiction #fanfic #request #requests open #requested #anon request #requests #requests are open #fanfics #patrick bateman x you #patrick bateman x gn reader #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x y/n

[shirefantasies]

Things You Do Together- LoTR Characters

A little buffer posting during recovery, sorry y’all 😅 I have some requests getting ready too though! Did a version for Thorin’s company a while back so here’s this version too 🥰

Aragorn wishes there to be no secrets, as few misunderstandings as could arise. Thus his goal is to help you reach fluency in Elvish; after all, many of his friends and familial figures are of Middle Earth’s eldest race. Their script is quite complex, so barring a great desire of yours to be writing it soon Aragorn focuses upon recognition of important words and phrases. Starting, of course, with my love.

Legolas teaches you archery, standing behind you as you fire his bow. Such a patient teacher and not one to burst out laughing if the arrow arcs spectacularly right back down into the grass. Surely he will smile and shake his head, but he understands. Everyone was there once, himself no exception. Pays such attention to detail you will catch him making the smallest of adjustments, even little things like changing the position of your fingers with his.

Desiring to prove both his and his people’s worth, Boromir attends with you at his side a joust hosted by Gondor’s men. You delight in choosing and cheering on a champion, shouting with joy at his successes and sympathizing with strikes against him. When, you think aloud to Boromir, was the last time you both laughed so? Pulling you close, he tells you he does not remember when, but if he has his way it will be soon again.

If you desire exploration, you know that Gimli will be right at your side to enjoy the world’s beauty. Caves, of course, are a domain of his people, expanses of stone glittering on walls and hanging down to your level. Forests, too, homes of fairer beings and much provision. Things Gimli has sworn to protect and love in this life that he wishes to experience with the greatest of them all… you. Never does he tire of telling you nature is beautiful, but more so are you.

Frodo encourages your writing. He himself has penned you many a poem, but there is nothing like your voice, physical or metaphorical, sharing a story with him. His dream is a book containing both of your stories, perhaps even an addition to his uncle’s story. If you feel called to share stories of others, even simple escapes from reality, Frodo is your greatest supporter. With all that he endures, ever a relief is it to hear you speak of a world so different from his own.

Botany, Samwise Gamgee thinks, is best learned amongst the flowers themselves. Rather than stuff you up into the pages of some book, he takes you walking down winding Shire-paths of flowers and bushes, showing you how he can tell what's related by things like leaf shape and giving you little tips and tricks to remember bloom names. “If you forget forget-me-nots, after all,” he teases with a wink, “you’re doing them quite the disservice!”

Merry teaches you his method of whittling, the way he crafts little trinkets of wood to keep occupied in idle times. When you feel more confident in your skills, Merry challenges you: he crafts a little figure of you and you of him. Complain as you do that his lovely hair is hard to capture, in the end you are proud of your first figure and Merry keeps it in the pocket closest to his heart. Those figures serve as the cake topper at your wedding a little ways down the line!

It can be a messy time, but Pippin adores spending time in the kitchen with you! Not only because he knows you’ll acquiesce him with little tastes, but because he’s fascinated at the process, the way you throw things together to make something beautiful and are so willing to have a feast made whenever guests call. Ever one for physical touch, Pippin enjoys sugary-sweet moments like sneaking up behind you for a kiss as you’re occupied kneading dough or standing against you to help stir your soup. And yes, sometimes he spills, but he always apologizes and cleans up after himself and don’t we all make mistakes?

Faramir reads with you, or, if you are stressed, to you. Sharing a love of your land’s myth, the studies of triumphs, follies, and magics past are like traveling far away to him, so to have a companion in that rings deep joy into his heart. He cannot help sometimes comparing the great love stories of Middle Earth to the way you found each other. Faramir is the type to know all your favorite tales and offer them to you at just the right time, sitting you in his lap or against his chest on a bed as he peels the pages open for you.

Smithing is something Eomer is confident you can learn, especially if he knows you wish to be involved in battles and wants to keep you safe! Being a supplier is just as important, otherwise there would be no blades to hoist for Rohan. Always encouraging you to hit harder and chuckling at your initial fear of the red-hot steel, Eomer loves standing behind you and guiding your motions. Perhaps even using this as an opportunity to sneak a kiss!

Haldir shows you how he cares for trees, even the smallest pieces of creation. Small potted trees akin to bonsais decorate shelves and tables in Lothlorien, and trimming and shaping them is an art form in and of itself. Nurturing a tiny, delicate life, after all, requires more intricacies than the greater fortitude. Microcosms of Haldir’s home forest sit before you as you take in his reverent, peaceful smile, hear his guiding words about the nutrients they need. You never tire of the focus spread across his face, the gentle opening of tiny blossoms.

Eowyn adores sparring with you no matter your skill level, moving slower or picking up her pace depending on it. She never wishes to go too hard on you, but does want to push you to try new things and experience different angles so you can keep yourself safe in a fight, Valar forbid you are so threatened. Sometimes your sparring is more playful, more just the two of you chasing each other around with wooden swords and one knocking the other over at the end of it, laughing as you tumble to the ground.

Enjoying the occasional swim, Arwen invites you into one of her home's gorgeous pools with her, stripping you both down to thinner layers as you step into perfectly, perhaps magically, warmed water. Polished stones roll beneath your feet as you wade over to each other, hands joining as you float in peaceful, loving silence. A smile spreads across Arwen's face before she gives you a light, teasing splash, silence quickly devolving into giggles as your troubles lighten.

Elrond is known for making some of the best tea in Middle Earth, and you experience his skills and then some. Not only does the lord of Imladris brew you a cup of your favorite herbal blend, he will also ensure that his bakers have pastries warm and ready and the loveliest toppings. Your relaxation time is like a little ceremony, Elrond pouring your drink and serving you all you wish on your little platter. You will not so much as lift a finger until it is to take a sip of the warm comfort as you and Elrond watch the surrounding waterfalls.

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @joonies-word | Reply/Ask/Message to join!

#lord of the rings #lotr #lotr imagines #lotr x reader #the fellowship of the ring #aragorn #legolas #boromir #gimli #frodo #sam #merry #pippin #faramir #eomer #haldir #eowyn #arwen #elrond

[happyflux]

Saw a really long post today where someone was talking about D&D vampire lore, compiling what different sources say about it (including the Baldur's Gate games) and, y'know, for the most part it was a good post, it's a useful and good quick reference on what the different sources have said about vampires.

(readmore because this turned out long oops)

But then at the end, and in an addition to the post replying to a tag someone had put, the post began talking about applying all this lore to BG3 specifically, and it made me think. Because the takeaway that post had seemed to be that the things about vampire lore which are consistent to the rest of D&D do apply to BG3 as well, and that Astarion is simply an exception due to his extremely strong willpower and sense of self. And that just doesn't seem right to me at all. It feels like missing the point.

BG3 did some very specific, very interesting things with the lore of D&D. In terms of vampires, yes, but also more generally, BG3 pretty consistently gives the message that the things that are said in the rulebooks are not necessarily true, but are oversimplifications and generalizations that are believed to be true in universe.

BG3 got rid of racial ability scores, giving every race the same "choose a +2 and a +1" that variant humans can have in D&D. BG3 not only got rid of racial alignments, but got rid of alignments entirely - there is no detect evil and good, protection against evil and good has been replaced with a spell that mechanically protects against outsiders of various kinds, there is no alignment selection for player characters, no alignment showing up on inspection despite pretty much entire stat blocks being visible, and the companion characters all have complex morality that doesn't fit neatly into any alignment box. BG3 establishes and many times repeats that Volo, the in-universe author of a lot of the texts we have access to about Faerûn, is an incredibly unreliable source. BG3 has Halsin, a large-built and hairy elf (something which the rulebooks claim is impossible as elves are slender and graceful and have no body hair), say that "sometimes I think conventional wisdom is too narrow about what someone can or cannot be".

On the topic of vampirism specifically, BG3 has Jaheira (who is established to be wise and knowledgeable due to being an experienced and well travelled adventurer) say "They say that the only thing a vampire can feel is hunger. Nothing else touches them - not grief, or mercy. Or any sense of what is just. Who knows. There is often more ignorance than insight in what 'they' say", in response to Astarion remaining a spawn. And, on an Astarion origin run, it is established that at least half of his siblings can be convinced to want to oppose Cazador (it's just that non-origin Astarion chooses to antagonize them instead), and they can be persuaded not to feed off of people, and even without Astarion suggesting it Dalyria will take the initiative to help and take care of the other spawn. And, and this I think is crucial, every vampire we see in BG3 aside from possibly Vellioth is established to have been through circumstances which could easily twist someone and turn them horrible, no magical twisting of emotions or inherent existential evil required.

To play Baldur's Gate 3 and take away from it that the things which D&D lore has previously said about vampires apply to this game, and that Astarion is just somehow Special because of his Extremely Strong Willpower and Sense of Self feels like completely missing the point. Vampires in BG3 are evil because they're stuck in a cycle of violence and suffering and aren't able to escape, and when they are given an escape from that cycle they are able to heal and recover and be more than what they were made. Astarion does not have exceptional willpower, Astarion got lucky. He got out, he made some connections, he got a chance to heal and unlearn the things he'd been taught before being thrust back into Cazador's presence, and that's why he's able to break the cycle. Or, alternately, if the people he finds when he gets out don't push him to unlearn the things Cazador taught him and instead reinforce those beliefs, he becomes just like him. Again, no magical twisting of emotions required.

#bg3 #astarion #sorry about the long post lol #also don't take this too seriously. i don't think interpreting a story differently than me is problematic or anything #it just annoys me when people are wrong about my blorbo on the internet (read: when people interpret the story differently from me) #hence why i made my own post instead of commenting on the one that i reference

[dice-wizard]

Hello everyone looking for a new fantasy tabletop game!

As it nears backer release, there's never been a better time to pre-order Exalted: Essence

Pre-ordering gets you access to the beta document and the early release backer pdf.

What's Exalted you ask?

Exalted is an epic fantasy TTRPG where players play the titular Exalted - humans elevated to superhuman/demigod status - in a wild and unique setting that draws inspiration from the ancient world rather than medieval Europe. Creation (the setting) draws key inspirations from the entire world. If you're used to having to make yourself visible on your own in other fantasy, there's probably some representation in Exalted.

It has explicit queer and trans themes about finding your people, creating your own identity, and having the power to punch back at the people who hate you. This isn't incidental. The writing staff is queer as hell. You can hear me break this down more here.

Curious to learn all you can? Well you can get a detailed overview of the entire game on the podcast Systematic Understanding of Everything hosted by myself, @presidentofbirds and @phillycuriosity

If I'm used to D&D 5e why should I pick this up?

Well, I presume if you're reading this post you're already interested in trying something new, so:

The entire game in one book. Exalted: Essence is self contained, character types, equipment, enemies and all!

An exciting style of fantasy that's different than classic D&D but like, textually gay, and very easy to have scenes like ballroom fights, epic galas, and touching homoerotic healing scenes - no house rules required.

But also, tactical depth and combat you can really sink your teeth into if fighting monsters and villains is your bag.

An excuse to use all your d10s at once

Character building and advancement mechanics designed to be familiar to a 5e audience. Characters "level up" based on story beats, and have Advantages, which are functionally similar to class and race features.

A world welcoming to most heroic archetypes, so it's easy to convert your favorite OC.

Extremely kissable dragons, demons, gods, elementals, ghosts, faeries, and unnamed ancient horrors

I'm a fan of a previous edition, what's Essence got for me?

Design focused on alleviating some of the previous versions' missteps

Virtues are back, baby

2e fans will find it an improvement from second edition's mechanical strengths - it's pretty easy to convert all your favorite 2e Charms to XS.

Streamlined versions of familiar rules to make it painless to introduce new friends to the game we love.

The Cliff's notes on Ex3's new Exalt types.

Did I mention it's all of Exalted in one book?

How does it play?

d10 dice pool looking for 7,8,9 as successes. 10s count as two successes, which can lead to explosive, heroic outcomes

Combat system designed to keep all players engaged the entire time - even characters who aren't focused on fighting at all.

Combat also narrows the gap between experienced and new players and players who want to win at RPGs and players who just wanna vibe so GMs aren't tearing their hair out trying to balance encounters.

Social system designed to resolve in a single roll so you can be immersed in role play and not interrupt it with constant rolling - without sacrificing a variety of social approaches

"Ventures" system for characters working on long term projects from traveling across the world to crafting magical wonders to building communities without forcing this to be "downtime" activity

Characters have access to Charms - exception-based special powers that make them extremely good at whatever they focus on.

It's easily my favorite game (and the project I developed that I'm the proudest of), so I'm excited for everyone to try it out.

#TTRPG #Ttrpg recommendation #exalted #Exalted Essence #d&d #dnd #dnd characters #d&d 5e #Exalted RPG #dnd 5e #dungeons and dungeons #dungeons & dragons #exalted rpg #ttrpg #podcast #fuck wizards of the coast #Try a new game! How about this one? #Cmon in the water is fine #ttrpgs #tabletop rpg #tabletop games #tabletop role playing game #tabletop #tabletop roleplaying #onyx path publishing

[stumachersfavoritegirl]

His Favorite Girl <3

Stu Macher x Reader

Disclaimer: The use of Y/N pertains to you inserting your own name. The main character in the story is you, but you just have a a different description. Imagination is fun girlies ;3 I also deeply apologize for the late post, life has been very stressful for me right now and whenever it becomes overwhelming, it's hard for me to think about anything else, which includes "My Favorite Girl" but, don't worry, I'll still be posting it because it's definitely a solitude for me. But, I won't be giving a schedule for it anymore because I feel like that ruins the trust between me and you guys <3 Thank you for understanding and enjoy!

Chapter 2: D-dont...you walk away from me

I tap my pencil on the desk repetitively, anxiously waiting one more minute before the final bell of the day rings. I'm biting my lip as my thoughts race, it's becoming a reality and not another dream my mind thought up. Stu Macher is actually going to the Brew to meet me, and no one else. Not Tatum, Billy, his friend group, me. I've never felt this special before, it was a feeling I didn't want to end. I've never had a boy be vulnerable with me about how they felt, let alone about me. I mean, just yesterday I was a nobody to him. Now, he's meeting me in janitors closest alone, saying my name, thinking about my breast? I mean, holy fuck! Who am I right now that Stu Macher knows me, likes me, wants...me? It's almost overwhelming, the feeling of being wanted by someone you'd never thought you'd have for years. It's too unbearable actually, almost... too good to be true. My thoughts are cut off by the final bell, and I sigh as I finally gather my notebooks in my backpack. A smile uncontrollably forms on my face, as I imagine him looking at me in awe as he walks into the brew. Me sitting there with my hair down, no glasses, skinny jeans and an old tank top of my moms that she doesn't know I took...what? Desperate times call for desperate measures. Probably some cashmere sweater my mom has in her closet too, so my chubby arms can still be covered, while my cleavage is basically full frontal. I blush as I sling my backpack over my shoulder, beginning to exit the classroom. I wonder if he'll be wearing the same thing, or maybe he'll change like me. I wonder if we'll only talk about school work, or maybe we'll talk about us. I've been dying to ever since the janitors closet. All those things he said, what did it mean? My minds been racing since. I still can't believe he was looking at me like that, his pupils were so dilated, I felt like I was staring into his soul looking into them. I make my way into the hallway and walk towards the exit of the school with everyone else. Students begin to scream however, and everyones voices combined grows too loud, ruining my thought process. I roll my eyes, reaching for my cassette player and headphones in my backpack. I grab it, zipping my bag closed, when I look up and see Billy Loomis. He walks pasts me and our eyes meet before he looks away and chuckles, covering his mouth. I furrow my brows as he pasts me, looking down as I rest my headphones on my head. What was that look about? I drag my fingers across my face, trying to pinpoint any food residue on it. When I feel nothing, I reach for my hair, running my fingers through it. Hmph, nothing stuck in it. I let my tongue linger over my front teeth to feel any food stuck in between. But when I feel nothing, my face scrunches together. What could he have been laughing at? I roll my eyes as I exit the building, pressing play on my cassette player as I walk down the school entryway stairs. As I put my cassette player away, I see Tatum and Stu again. His arms are wrapped around her shoulder as a pre rolled blunt rests in his hand. His other hand is flailing around as he talks to Tatum, and she walks beside him with a lollipop in her mouth, toying with it using her tongue.

He looks down and sees this, and he bends down to lick her lollipop. She scoffs, preparing to pluck him in the head with it. He takes off before she can though, and she follows him as she screams out, laughing "Asshole!" He giddily laughs as he runs away, shockingly in my direction. My eyes widen as I see them approach me, and I swallow as I press my lips together. I subtly look up to meet his gaze as he passes me, and he doesn't even look at me. He continues to laugh as he runs by, his smell washing over me again and my knees almost buckle. She runs after him, towards me and her eyes throw daggers at mine. I quickly look away from her, but she makes a note to bump my shoulder as she passes me. I sigh as I rub my shoulder, rolling my eyes. I've literally never hated someone more. I turn to look at them , and he runs back into the building as she's close in pursuit, yelling after him. I shake my head in disbelief as I face forward and continue walking home. Why didn't he look at me? I mean, how could he go from standing over me...confessing his feelings for me, being completely vulnerable with me, to running past me, not even looking in my direction? That was really really weird, and a knot forms in my stomach, trying to depict what it meant.

///////////////////////

As I open the door to the Brew, I look at the clock inside, 4:00 on the dot. I smile to myself as I look around, trying to find his piercing blue eyes. When I don't see them however, I walk to the nearest table, placing my backpack and cassette player on the table before I take a seat. I tuck my wild curls behind my ears, looking around again, dreading that I didn't bring my glasses for emergency purposes. I feel a slight breeze and cover my exposed cleavage with my mothers cashmere sweater, snapping my neck towards the door. It's an older couple, both with canes, laughing as they walk in together. I smile as I look down, feeling as though I'm invading there privacy by staring. I continue to smile as I imagine that being me and Stu eventually. I shake the thought though, and as the breeze continues I decide to grab a small coffee as I wait for him. Looking at the clock again as I get up, it's 4:04. I figured he'd get here before me to see if I was on time or not. I try to calm down though, as I tell myself it's literally only been 4 minutes. Even if it were 10, did I really even expect Stu Macher to show up on time to discuss school work? Granted, he asked, but he never really seemed like the academic type. I kinda liked that about him though, his carefree spirit. He never seemed to let anything bother him, even a bad grade or detention 4 nights in a row. He just kinda, went with the flow of life, something I always admired about him. Something that always made me drawn to him. As I reach the counter, I pull out $1.05 to pay when I feel a sharp breeze from the door again. As I turn to look, I notice it's one of the kids from my school. His hairs blonde and spikey almost, his big brown eyes sweep the crowd of the Brew until they land on mine. I think I've seen him in science class a few times, other times he's blatantly skipping. I flash a friendly smile his way, but he doesn't return one. He quickly looks away as he heads to sit down. I feel like everyone is acting so weird towards me today, and I straighten my squished eyebrows as I approach the register to order.

As I wait for them to make it, I look in his direction and see him sit by the chair next to me. I face forward to grab my small coffee, and head back to my seat. Our eyes meet again, and he quickly averts his again, while pulling out school supplies. I place my coffee on the table as I sit back down, scratching the back of my neck as I continue to look around for Stus tall frame and brunette short hair. I take a quick sip from the coffee, sighing as I pull out my school supplies. I'll just get everything ready for his arrival, maybe I should've gotten him a coffee too? I mentally face palm myself as I pull all my English notes and Algebra textbooks out, pulling out two pencils, two Crayola highlighters, and a Hewlett Packard calculator. I align everything on the desk neatly to pass time, glancing at the clock again. 4:10 now...sheesh, I mind as well have took an extra 10 minutes to do my makeup. I could've used a wand of mascara, my eyes couldn't be more squinted from the lack of sleep I've been experiencing lately. I keep having repeated nightmares of Stu rejecting me in front of the whole school in the cafeteria after realizing I've had a crush on him since Sophomore year. He tells me that, "He'd never like a weird, fat, and boring loser like me. Not even in my dreams." and then as soon as the entire cafeteria erupts with laughter, I'm always startled awake by my alarm clock, covered in sweat, gasping for air, and on the verge of pissing myself from embarrassment. His words will always echo in my head shortly after I'm awake, and they almost begin to echo now, as doubt fills my mind. Why is he so late? But, I shake the thought though, pursing my lips together as I take another glance at the door. Any minute now, he'll walk in. He'll be sweating from running to make it on time, our eyes will meet as he swings open the door, and he'll flash me a sly grin before walking towards me. I'll probably blush and look away, wondering why I was so nervous about this afternoon. Any minute...

/////////////////////////

10 minutes turns to 3 hours, and before I know it, I'm rolling my eyes as I witness another person walk into the Brew that isn't him . Wow, if this isn't straight out of my regular scheduled nightmares, then I don't know what would be. Stu Macher completely just stood me up. This isn't even a date, which makes it worse! I'm literally just supposed to be helping him study, and he couldn't even show up for that? I fight the tears threatening to pour out my eyes as I begin to pack my supplies, aggressively throwing them in my backpack as I mumble to myself. "Fucking prick. How dare he act like that towards me? Like he had the biggest infatuation with me for months, then stand me up only a few hours later. How could he? I mean, what did I ever even do to him? What have I ever even done to anybody? I'm one of the nicest people at that school, I deserve to at least be treated like a person. I mean, at least-" as I get up, slinging my backpack over my shoulder in a huff, my eyes lock with the boy from school again. He's almost looking at me worried, but this time, there's too much rage in me to avert my eyes. This time, I stare directly back at him. "What the fuck are you looking at?" I yell aloud, and his eyes widen before he looks back down at his textbook.

The whole Brew flashes their heads at me, and feeling embarrassed by my outburst but too angry to show it, I completely storm out, swinging the door open and letting it hit the wall behind it. It starts to rain as I walk home, which makes me even more livid. I stomp my way down the street as I continue to mumble more curse words amongst myself. "This is exactly what I get for ever thinking a guy like Stu Macher could ever have any interest in me. I should've known everything was too good to be true! He's never even looked in your direction until today, but had the nerve to have me believe he had some type of serious interest in me? I mean, he couldn't even look at me on school grounds a few hours ago! As soon as I noticed that, I should've made the decision to never come. That was literally the biggest sign I could've seen, that he isn't actually into me. This must just be some sort of game, this has to be. He told me not to be late, just to never show? Who am I even kidding? Why did I ever expect another outcome? This isn't a fairytale Y/n. I'm a loser, he's popular. Our worlds don't even mix. " The rage fills my throat, and I scream aloud, letting all the anger, sadness, pain, and rejection I feel out into the rain. Fuck Stu Macher, Fuck Woodsboro High, fuck everyone! I'm sick of being the nice, quite, good girl. I'm so sick of being everyones target for an easy ego boost, for sadism, for the next human joke. It's my turn to be a fucking asshole.

///////////////////////

As I walk along the school grounds, I notice news anchors scattered everywhere. It's 7:50 am as I rush to my first class, walking by each of them as I listen "-are doing drugs they buy in the classroom. And that they're involved in the occult..."

“Occult?”

"The small town of Woodsboro, California was devasted last night when two young teenagers were brutally murdered. Authorities have yet to issue a statement, but our sources tell us that no arrest have been made and the murderer could strike again."

My eyes widen as I continue to look around, noticing every student is paired up with someone. All of them talking amongst themselves. All of their faces, were plastered with worry…with fear. I overhear a few of them as I pass by. "Oh my gosh, I had social studies with Casey."

"-Steve was one of the best football players on our team. What are we gonna do about next weeks game-"

"I heard, they found Casey gutted like a fish. Hung up by her own intestines!"

"I heard they found Steve and Casey chopped into pieces with their body parts scattered all over her house."

I furrow my brows as I continue into the school building, resting my headphones back on my head to drown everyone out as I process everything. I think… Casey Becker and Steve Orlin are dead! I can't believe another murder happened in Woodsboro. We all kinda assumed it would stop after Cotton Weary was arrested. What happened to Mrs. Prescott was horrific and everyone was relieved when he was issued the death penalty. But now, it looks like there still may be a murderer amongst us. I enter English class at 8:00 on the dot, but this time, Mr. Tate doesn't bark at me. He doesn't even raise his head to acknowledge me. I quickly make way for my seat, when I notice Stu Macher isn't in his. I quickly hang my backpack over my seat, pulling out all of my supplies and placing them on my desk before I sit down. I look around at everyone, noticing how silent it is. Usually people would be talking, loudly listening to music, passing notes, laughing amongst each other. But this time, it was different. You could feel the death, the darkness everywhere you looked. I sigh deeply as I face forward, opening my textbook when I notice a post it note sticking out of one of the pages. I flip to the page, dragging my fingers along the familiar messy red thick ink as I read.

"I couldn't make it to the Brew, but I need want to see you before lunch today. I need I'd like to talk to you. It's important to me. Be at our spot by 11:55."

First of all, the audacity! He had me wait 3 hours for him, just for him to not show, and he really thinks I'm gonna show up for him now that he “wants to see me”? I scoff as a chuckle sneaks up and out of my throat. Prick. I should have him wait there for me for an entire hour. I should have him feel exactly the way I felt last night, stranded and abandoned. I rip the post it note into small pieces, allowing each piece to cover my desk and the ground below me, not caring if it's drawing attention. I start to care however, when I notice Stu walk into class. "I know I'm late Mr. Tate. The news anchors are crowding the whole entryway! I almost got tackled to the ground just for a simple little interview." He says, chuckling as he walks backwards to his desk. "Mr. Macher, please quietly take a seat. Some students are trying to mourn in peace." Mr. Tate motions his hand to the crowd of students sitting down, all pouting, staring at a wall or out the window. Stu shrinks into his shoulders as he grits his teeth, mouthing an "oops..." as he pretends to tip toe to his desk. When he passes mine, he looks down at the post it puddle I've left scattered around for anyone to see. He almost stops in his tracks, and our eyes meet. He furrows his brows almost, and smiles like he's accepting a challenge, but I stare back at him angrily, my eyes read that there's no game being played on my end. He quickly squints at me, almost like he's trying to figure out a puzzle, before he continues his way to his seat. I listen as he drags out his chair loudly, plopping into it. I slightly turn my head to look at him, and he’s staring at me so hard, I almost melt right into my seat. I quickly face forward again, swallowing as I tap my pencil on the desk silently. Damn, I definitely didn’t mean for him to see that. I thought he was skipping class today…I mentally face palm myself as I bite my lip, tapping my pencil faster as my anxiety builds. Holy shit, what if that ruined everything? What if he thinks I hate him now? What if he doesn’t wanna talk to me anymore because he thinks I tried to embarrass him by ripping up the post it? What if he-wait, fuck him.

I almost forgot I’m angry at him, in fear that he was angry at me. But I don’t want to be fearful of that. Good riddance he saw it, maybe he’ll leave me alone. Maybe, he’ll finally stop taunting me with his modelesque good looks, bright blue eyes and lean muscular frame. Maybe, he won’t want to torture me with being fake study buddies anymore to boost his already inflated ego. Maybe- “Ms. Y/n. I just told Mr.Macher to keep quiet for the sake of everyone else! What makes you any different?” I taste blood as I stop biting my lip, realizing I’m tapping my pencil on the desk so loud it’s drawing everyone’s attention, including Stu. I purse my lips together as I sink into my seat, looking around and locking eyes with Stu again. He’s grilling me at this point, and feeling rather impudent, I dramatically roll my eyes as I sweep the rest of the post it pieces onto the floor. I rest my head on my hand as I sigh softly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as a student comes in, handing Mr. Tate a piece of paper. The whole class faces forward, and everyone’s attention is drawn to Mr. Tate. “Kaitlin Bennett, the principals office for questioning.” Everyone turns towards her, and she stands up flustered as she walks towards the exit. I rub the back of my neck, feeling as though it’s burning, and I look behind me to face Stu again, who's still looking at me, sneering. I face forward and watch the girl shimmy past all the students sitting, throwing a small smile at Mr.Tate before she and the other student exit the room. I look down at my textbook again, deciding to just study for my english exam this week. I adjust my glasses as I continue to read, but with everything going on, I easily get distracted. Why did they call that girl to the office for questioning? Do they think she did it? She doesn't look like she'd kill anyone, let alone two. I heard a lot of people saying the crime scene was pretty brutal, no way she did that.

I raise my brows, trying to get back to my english work when suddenly the student behind me passes me a note from under my arm. I slightly jump, never receiving a note in class, I'm startled by the sudden gesture. I quickly turn around, but the student behind me is buried in a Harry Potter Novel. Understanding the concentration that kind of book takes, I quickly face forward, not wanting to interrupt them. I sigh before opening the letter, recognizing the bold sloppy red ink by now,

"See me at our spot after class. Walk there before me, I'll be behind you. I need to talk."

I roll my eyes as I close the note. Jesus, someone is persistent. I crumble the note into a ball before tossing it onto the floor. I refuse to give him any satisfactory communication today after yesterday. I refuse to give into the daze of Stu Macher. I refuse. I hear someone clear their throat behind me, but I don't turn around, expecting our eye contact to turn me into stone.

///////////////////////////

The bell finally rings, and I quietly close my textbook to avoid more eyes on me this period. I gather all my books in my arms as I stand up, grabbing my backpack to place it on my desk. I open it, throwing all my books and school utensils inside before zipping it closed, and tossing it over my shoulder. I exit the classroom, and as I walk around, I notice almost everyone is either mourning, or gossiping about how crazy this recent murder was. Especially after last years. You can tell some of them were Casey or Steves friends, while others are just excited that something is going on to talk about. I look down as I continue towards my locker, when suddenly, I feel someone grab my arm, hard and almost yank me forward. I look up to protest, and it's Stu. "Don't draw attention..." he says with a suggestive tone, and obviously fake smile plastered across his face. "...just walk." I obey, afraid of any retaliation if I didn't, and I walk beside him. We walk past my next class and down the janitors corridor. A few eyes glare at us, but none linger for too long. I think everyones just too focused on the murders to care about regular school gossip. I should be too, but how can I ignore something like this?

He's everywhere to me but almost no where at the same time, it's almost impossible to not think about him for a second. We enter the same janitors closet we were in before, he leads me in with one hand before looking both ways and entering behind me. The rooms dark again, and I feel completely vulnerable just standing in the middle of it. He closes the door behind him, and I hear him slightly groan before he turns the light on, turning around to face me. I'm completely flustered again while I stare up at him, and he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear as I whimper beneath him. "Y/n..." he speaks to me softly, almost singing my name. He backs me up against a wall, and leans his hand against it, towering over me. My knees almost buckle from the music in my ears. My name coming out his mouth is almost dreamlike, and I pinch my thigh to make sure everything is real. "I know you made it on time to the Brew yesterday. I like that, you listen." he says, smirking as he gestures at me with his index finger. He taps me in my chest before letting it drag down my cleavage, past my belly, and almost at my pelvis.

"But, unfortunately I couldn't make it due to that little rumor you spread of us. I mean, Tatum was pretty pissed. A lot of things are out of my control when her rage is involved." He taunts me with this, playing with a loose strand of my hair in his fingers as he maintains eye contact with me, the slyest grin on his face. " I mean..." he pushes himself off the wall, stepping away from me as he begins to circle the room. "I know you've had feelings for me for some time now, but maybe I should've emphasized how much secrecy would be important in this situation." He completely faces me now, "I thought, maybe I'd be able to trust you?" His question sounds almost threatening, but a frown is plastered across his face, and his eyes are soft as he continues to look at me. "It wasn't m-me Stu. I-I would never discuss anything w-we do to anyone, I mean, I d-don't speak to a lot of people here."

"Then who do you speak to?" His demeanor hardens now. He looks me up and down, almost like he's trying to read me, "I mean, n-not really a-anybody. No one. I swear." I find myself being awfully eager to please him, and I loosen my shoulders as the last word leaves my mouth. He sucks in his breathe before mumbling a small, "mmm" placing his hand on his chin as he says it, almost smiling before he says, “I had a good feeling I could trust you then.” He’s smirking as he says this, and anger begins to boil inside of me. How can he even accuse me of being untrustworthy, when just yesterday he left me waiting for him in a Brew, alone for 3 hours! How could he even sit here and stare at me like I'm the problem here? "W-what about me?" I manage to spew out, almost in a whisper, but he hears me. He begins to slowly walk towards me, "What about you?" he asks me, leaning back against the wall over me. I hesitate at first, scared of where this could go, but he grabs my cheeks with his right hand, lifting my face up to look at him. "Speak." His face is inches from mine, and I close my eyes. Moaning silently as I bite my lip, wishing he'd just kiss me already and forget about fucking Tatum. I open my eyes before I continue, completely flustered at his domineering demeanor towards me.

"I thought I could t-t-rust you last night, you left me stranded there alone for 3 hours. It was so emba-"

"You waited for me for 3 hours? " He snorts almost, and my face burns completely as it forms a snarl, gritting my teeth before I mutter, "fuck you." I begin to push past him.

"Yeah, I'm looking forward to it huh? Hey!”

Before I can exit the room, he grabs my arm, hard. I wince at the pain and franticly look up at him, shocked at the sudden aggression. "D-dont...you walk away from me." He says, calmy. His eyes are closed as he says it, but he opens them to look at me, his smile is gone and his stare leaves my heart pounding out of my chest. I swallow as I look back up at him, and he swings me back up against the wall before grabbing both my shoulders. "I'm...sorry. OK. I should've let you know somehow that I couldn't make it. That was on me, that was my fuck up." He maintains eye contact with me the whole time as he says this, sweat beads begin to form on his forehead and his lips are almost dripping with spit. "Just...don't-walk away from me. We aren't done talking." His head is slightly tilted to the side, but he slowly lets go of my shoulders before he begins to run his hands along my arms. "Now, let's make this date happen, huh? Tonight's not a good night for me unfortunately..." he says, tilting his head to the side as he grits his teeth and widens his eyes, but he smirks as he continues.

"...but tomorrow, after school ofcourse, we can meet. Finally. Let's say, your house around 9." I purse my lips, wanting to protest at the time stated but too afraid for his reaction. "Be a good girl and agree...right?" He says, rubbing his thumb against my bottom lip as he gently nods his head, waiting for me to do the same. I slowly nod my head as my lip quivers. "Good." He slowly inhales as he drags his finger down my lip, to my chin and down my throat. He lets it trail along my collar bone before he leans in, I feel his breathe against my neck as he rests his hand on my shoulder . "I'll make sure to make it up to you tomorrow night." His breathe lingers against my ear, and I close my eyes before accidently moaning aloud. I quickly open my eyes as I purse my lips together, and my heart begins to beat through my chest and out my ass. I quickly clear my throat as I look down, and he backs up before chuckling slightly. "Don't feel the need to hide that later on, ok?" He says, smirking as he bites his lip, exiting the room. I'm left standing there alone again in a puddle of my own juices. Could he be anymore of a tease? I take my hair out its ponytail, as I migraine attacks my skull. Why does he have to be so confusing? And why am I so turned on by it? I run my fingers through my hair, replaying the entire moment. It was supposed to be a moment of power for me, but instead I surrendered to him, just as Tatum did yesterday. But, it's almost like I couldn't resist him, like I had to obey him. Who am I kidding? Why even spend this entire experience being upset with him over one small accident, when I could instead enjoy this entire moment in it's glory?

Stu Macher was finally speaking to me and there was no way I was letting one little form of miscommunication get in the way of this ecstasy ride. I mean, whatever time was wasted yesterday will be made up tomorrow night, right? I inhale sharply as I run my hands over my face, squinting my eyes together as I swallow. Ok, get it together. I take one last breathe in, before exiting the janitors closet. As I enter the school hallway, I realize I meant to tell him my address. Shit, then my parents will be home...I sigh, realizing this might not go as dreamlike as I hoped it would. The late bell rings and I pick up my pace as I head to my next class, I have to figure out a way to get my address to him, I have to make tomorrow night happen, I have to finally spend time with him. I mentally face palm, angry at how flustered I was in the moment that I didn't even tell him my address. How could I let that important piece of information slide? Ok, I have the rest of this school day and tomorrow to get my address to him. It has to happen, not matter what, there can't be another miscommunication that gets in the way of us. That gets in the way of my future.

#stu macher fanfiction #stu macher #stu matcher x you #stu macher imagine #stu macher x reader #stu macher smut #stu macher x y/n #stu macher x you #stu macher fluff #scream 1996 #scream movie #scream franchise #matthew lillard #shes all that #hackers #senseless #serial mom #thirteen ghosts #dead mans curve #the curve #animal room #scooby doo #summer catch #wing commander #mad love #fat kid rules the world #billy loomis #ghostface #billy loomis x reader #ghostface x reader

[olivyh]

it’s my birthday !! so may i request riddle, ruggie, jamil, azul and jade kalim, sebek, and silver (if that’s too many characters feel free to only do 3-5 !!)

doing something embarrassing without them knowing the reader was watching (can you tell i have favorites LMAO)

like they’re singing to a corny song, maybe they’re admiring the reader and what they did that day, anything that gets them all nervous and embarrassed once they realize that the reader is standing there, maybe a different scenario for each one (awkward n blushy boys supremacy)

i hope college is going well :D!! good luck lmao

Happy birthday!!! I hope it was an amazing day <<3333!!!!! Anyways I LOVE all these characters (though I have a harder time writing for silver and sebek)(hopefully diasomnia chapter reveals more of them). I also love blushy and flustered boys! I'm going to split this post in two since there's 8 total, so this one will have four and then the next four will come later! (bc,,, i simply cannot stop writing about the scarabia duo,,,)

Enjoy~!

PT 1: Riddle, Ruggie, Azul, and Jade (You're here)/ PT 2: Jamil, Kalim, Sebek, and Silver (WIP)

Minor TW for blood on Azul's part but it's not too much

Riddle:

He had not believed that there was anyone around. After a particularly stressful week, the boy had wanted nothing more than to tend to the hedgehogs that he had considered to be akin to his own children. 

He was in his gym uniform, not wanting to get his dorm leader uniform dirty, and hunched over, in the cage and giggling softly as the hedgehogs squeaked and nipped at his fingers. He cups one of them in his hands, pulling it out and petting it's smooth forehead, chuckling and kissing it softly. 

"Have you all been lonely?" Riddle asks quietly, turning to the others. He looks around the open garden, warm sun kissing his pale skin as he peeks around the tall hedges, ears perked in the half-hope-half-fear of one of his dormmates seeing him in such a state. 

No screaming of Deuce, no obnoxious laughter from Ace. He didn't hear the tapping against a phone screen, or Trey's heavy footsteps on the grass. Perhaps, Riddle thought, he truly was alone. 

He felt as though the heavy weight on his shoulders was lifted off as he hurriedly takes each hedgehog out of the cage, sitting cross legged on the ground and placing the small animals in the small area that his legs had created. Some of them try to climb his pants and escape, making him chuckle softly at their squeaks. He gingerly lifts one into his lap, petting it gently. 

Warmth fills his heart when it nuzzles into his open palm. The others soon follow, clambering over one another as they try to climb higher and higher up. He lays down, the cold grass tickling his cheeks as the boy squirms as they crawl up his neck and lick at his face, making him laugh loudly and pick them up and move them away. 

He looks down and stifles another joyful giggle seeing them resting on his chest, a few of them trying to bite at his shirt and others dozing off. He picks one up gently and nuzzles his face into it's own small one, affection filling his heart and threatening to spill out into the rest of his body. 

He smiles softly at the small animal, chuckling. 

"Hey, Riddle, I found this little guy when I-" He all but yelps and whips around to face you, standing dumbfounded next to the hedges and holding a small hedgehog that nuzzles into your palm. Heat crawls up his neck and burns his ears and eyes as he gulps, mouth opening and closing in mortification. 

"It-I- I- I was si-simply-" He stammer, sitting up quickly (though, not too quickly as to keep the animals on his body safe).

To his surprise, you make your way beside him and sit down, your knees touching as you reach over and place the hedgehog atop his head. He gasps, lungs refusing to work as your hand gently brushes his cheek on the way back. 

You smile softly at him. 

"Don't be embarrassed! It's cute!"

He swears he could feel his heart explode in his chest, mind racing as he gulps back another squeal. He was sure that late at night, accompanied only by the moonlight, he would bury his face in his pillow and giggle like a schoolgirl looking back on this moment. 

As of right now, he could not think of anything else to do but stammer and try to calm his racing heart. He meets your eyes only to see them pressed into joyful crescents that make the butterflies in his stomach swarm as he mumbles an apology, standing and running out of the garden, leaving you and the hedgehogs to watch him leave in confusion and disbelief.   

Ruggie Bucchi:

The hyena sits up and groans, running his hands through his messy hair for the umpteenth time as he struggles to read the words on the pages. They dance around the page as he knits his eyebrows on his forehead, phone resting beside the open book for if he needs to look up a definition or a concept. He had asked to study with you to seem smarter than he was, to impress you somehow, but he was failing. 

"Should've asked Leona to teach me this shit beforehand..." He thinks to himself bitterly, glancing over at the human who lays on his bed, reading through their history book and taking notes off to the side. They kick their feet and look over to him as he sits hunched over at his desk. He looks away, face warming up as he sighs, looking up another definition. 

He tries not to show his annoyance or embarrassment at being unable to understand a textbook, but he knows that you wouldn't hold it against him. Ruggie told you bashfully before your first study session about how he couldn't go to school as a child, and was just now learning what his peers had learnt years before. You were understanding, and you were patient as you sometimes helped him define a word or solve a basic math problem. 

He chews on his pen, sighing in annoyance as he looks up another word, scribbling down the definition in the margins of his already filled notebook. Most of his pens were already chewed through, a nervous habit of his since he was a child. Normally he has something else to chew- whether that be a popsicle stick or the plastic thing you had given him as a gift after you learnt of this habit, but he had no popsicles, and the chewing thing was in his gym locker (put there for the moments before particularly stressful Magshift matches).  Normally he wouldn't chew pens, and he always had his magical pen to write with, but he'd even caught his hands idly lifting the magical object to his open mouth when he couldn't figure out one tricky question. 

He hears you giggle and he turns quickly, pouting over the pen in his mouth. You laugh more and cover your face as the boy's face flushes a bright red and he jumps at how your gleeful expression made his heart turn, biting down on the pen and sending a cascade of ink into his mouth. 

He winces and gags, sputtering as the ink drips down his chin, face flushing crimson in embarrassment now.

In his frenzy to not get ink on his clothes, he doesn't even notice how you'd rushed to grab a towel, gently holding his face in your hands and wiping the substance from his mouth. He coughs up more and you fight back a chuckle, Ruggie letting out an annoyed, embarrassed, and shy whine from the back of his throat. His ears are flat on his head as he pouts up at you, face still red as his heart races at speeds that he couldn't even imagine. He fights the urge to clasp a clawed hand over his heart and beg it to slow down, that he couldn't hand the waves of emotions that were slamming his mind and body. 

You chuckle and wipe the last bits from his lip, sitting back. 

"Go wash your mouth out-" Ruggie stands and, realizing that he could very easily blow his (very obvious) nonchalant cover, decides to try to gain the upper hand. He places a hand on your cheek and chuckles, tracing his claws down your neck and tracing along your arm. He revels in the goosebumps that rise on your flesh, fighting back his own blush as he grabs your arm and raises it to his mouth, licking a long, black stripe along your skin.  

"Go wash your arm," He laughs at your flustered expression as you smack his stomach, making him double over and ignore the chemical taste that coats his throat. He laughs even harder when he sees that he left a trail of black along your face. 

"That was so gross!"

"You laughed at me first! You had it comin'!" Ruggie grins when you huff and whine, waving his hand as he enters his room's bathroom. "Let's call it a day!" He shouts, washing his mouth out and splashing his face with cold water, pressing a damp towel to his face and ignoring the way that his heart still fluttered and his face still felt as hot as the savanna in the summer.

Azul Ashengrotto:

Azul sat hunched over his desk, glasses cast off to the side as he sighed, hand cramping from scribbling away at paperwork for so long. His normally neat silver hair was unken=mpt and frizzy as it cascaded down his faceHis back aches from his hunched over position, and his limbs beg him to move after being seated for hours upon hours on end. 

"'Zul?"

"Mn?" He barely has the energy to respond to you properly. The VIP room is dimmed, and the lounge outside is cleaned out for the night. The only visitors since ten at night have been the twins, coming in to tell Azul that the Lounge had been properly closed and everything went well. 

"Are you okay?" The cecaelia nods, not even sparing you a glance as he continues to work on his paperwork. Another hour passes as he sits up and stretches, taking a big breath and groaning when his neck cracks a few times from the change in position. Leaning back, he chews idly on his nails when he reaches a problem, wincing when he bites down too far and blood drips down his finger, threatening to drip down onto his paper. The nail hangs off to the side, still attached to his finger as he curses under his breath. 

He hears a gasp and his blood runs cold as he stares up at you, sky blue eyes wide in mortification as the tips of his ears turn red and his heart pounds in his chest. He had somehow forgotten that you were still still present, and that you were watching him bite his nails. He stammers and tries to come up with excuses as you approach his desk, grabbing the first aid kit from one of the drawers. 

You sit on the arm of his plush chair and he can feel your warm breath dance across his face. Your legs practically cross over his, and you hold his injured hand as though he were made of glass, your own soft hands caressing the finger and searching for the nail clips. .

Azul's head spins and he feels although he were going to faint, a sweat forming along his collar as he gulps, unable to do something as simple as breath around you as it catches in his throat and he stares up at your expression, heart longing to pull you in and hold your face and connect his lips to your own soft-

He yelps quietly when you tug the nail loose, tossing it into the trash and applying antiseptic, wrapping his finger in a small bandage. 

"I-ah-" He clears his throat, trying to regain his composure. "Thank you."

You nod and smile down at him, raising his bandaged finger to your lips and pressing a faint kiss to the tip. Azul could swear that he blacked out for a second as he gasps and his chest constricts, heat from before returning tenfold. To his dismay, you hop off the chair and grab your things, heading towards the door. 

"Get some rest, okay?" He can only gape and nod, waiting until you leave to grab his coat from behind his chair and scream into it in half-embarrassment and half-disbelief. 

Jade Leech:

It wasn't everyday that Jade got time to himself. He was often running around, either trying to keep control in the Lounge, chasing after (or encouraging) his twin, or doing normal student activities. He hadn't much time to himself in the past few weeks, and it was starting to get to him. No matter how much sleep he would get, he would still awaken with deep eyebags. His police facade would drop more quickly, and he even noticed how he was snapping at his brother and Azul much more than he normally would. 

Jade was exhausted, and it showed in the way his skin had lost its luster and how his eyelids would threaten to droop at every moment that he wasn't up and running around.

He felt bubbly when he looked at his schedule and noticed that after classes, he had an entire afternoon off. The blank space in his schedule made his heart soar and he beamed, walking with a pep to his step between each class (one that terrified his classmates).

Once he finally collapsed in his desk in his room. Floyd was away at a basketball game, Azul had shut down the lounge for the afternoon for routine cleaning, and he was finally alone. 

He sighs happily, stretching back in his chair and running his hands through his hair as he reached for one of his terrariums, some of the pieces old or moved out of place from the lack of attention that they'd been receiving. 

"I'm sorry, little one," The mer mumbles, opening the lid and moving around the materials with a small pair of tweeers. He could feel the stress of the day slowly ebb away with every passing second. His shoulders were more relaxed, his eyebrows were no longer knitted on his forehead, and all the tension on his back seemed to be gone as he began humming softly, an old song from his hometown that his mother would sing to him. 

Jade beams, humming louder and lost in his own world when he feels a tap upon his shoulder. He stifles a gasp and whips around, eyes wide as he looks at the Prefect, heat rising to his face. The human stands, arms up as if to prove that they were defenseless. 

"Are you... okay?" The ask him quietly. He gulps, breathing returning to normal as he looks between them and his terrariums. 

He knows the flush on his face is apparent, and he could feel the sweat pool in his palms that rest on his lap. 

"Yes. Of course," He practically spits out, mind racing too fast for him to come up with a longer response. You chuckle nervously, raising your hand and placing it on his shoulder. 

"I called your name a few times and you weren't responding..."

"I was busy." 

"I see..." You smile, and Jade fights the urge to gulp down the butterflies once more as he stares up at you, eyes glazing over in adoration that he fights with every ounce of energy that he has. His stomach turns as you ruffle his hair playfully, placing a book on his desk with a picture of various flora on the cover. "I found it in Ramshackle's library... did you know I have a library? Anyways, I thought you would like it." 

He nods and runs a shaky hand over the cover. "Yes. Thank you," He mumbles quietly, turning his face to meet your gaze. "Thank you." He repeats, much quieter this time. You chuckle and nod. 

"Anytime..." You turn to leave, bag slung over your shoulder and you turn, smiling at him once more and making his chest feel as though it was full of flame. "Also, you have a nice singing voice. It suits you." And with that last comment, your gone, and Jade can release the breath he didn't realize he was holding, clutching his chest and covering his mouth that had twisted into a wide grin. 

He turns to his terrariums, feet tapping more than they were before you came. 

#twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #riddle x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #ruggie x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jade x reader #jade leech x reader #twst riddle #twst ruggie #twst jade #twst azul #twst fanfic #twisted wonderland fanfic #twst headcannons #twisted wonderland headcannons

[nephriteknight]

Thoughts on Daggerheart!!

I'll admit I haven't really been following it until today, but after watching the videos released today I got very excited and ended up building a character and reading a lot of the book, as I am wont to do (might post about them later lol).

Now, full disclosure, I wouldn't say I'm all that familiar with the TTRPG space outside of D&D, so take my opinions with a grain of salt. That said, I've played D&D, Wanderhome, Alice is Missing, and the fan-made Hollow Knight TTRPG, and I've watched some AP of Kids on Bikes, Call of Cthulhu, Monsterhearts, and Candela Obscura, which is a longer list than I was expecting. Huh. Anyways, my thoughts!

I really like the duality dice! It's such an interesting way to do mixed success that incorporates story/character into mechanics, which is great.

Related to that, I also like Hope as a fluid resource, and I think that Fear is a nice way to both prompt GM action and to just create a fun sense of dread as the GM takes more tokens

The lack of turn order/action economy is... cool, and a really interesting idea, but my thoughts on this are complicated. As we're seeing in the oneshot right now, it really helps to keep combat as part of the story and give the players and GM room for creativity. (For example, Bunnie describing a counterstrike as part of her dodge, and being able to take it as soon as the GM's turn is over, as well as the tag team feature, which is very cool.) That said, I think this mechanic might not work so well with less experienced or less confident players, who might have trouble taking the initiative (heh) to act in combat (I know I certainly would if I wasn't playing with close friends). That's not really a criticism though -- this is a collaborative storytelling game, and part of playing it is making big moves and taking turns guiding the story. If that's not for you, then you might prefer a different system, which is fine! I think this mechanic has the potential to be really, really dope, but I also think it's the bit that has the most potential to go poorly in my eyes.

The art, design, and general aesthetic feel of this game are so unbelievably up my alley. I love it. That's all.

I'm excited to see that they're working on mechanics for playing disabled characters, but since they aren't out yet I can't really comment. (I did notice that the character in the bard art is in a wheelchair, which is dope.) Also, as others have noted, Daggerheart uses "heritage" and "ancestry" rather than "race", which is a small but good choice.

Personally, I also really like the choice to move away from precise measurements of distance and gold. This one is very much a personal preference, and I know some people will rightfully disagree, but I like it! As a DM, trying to determine the appropriate costs and rewards for things has always been a headache, and this seems much easier to manage; measuring distances with convenient and tangible measurements like the short side of a playing card or the length of a piece of paper also feels much easier to use.

The downtime mechanics are great! Each of the activities you can take prompts you to describe how you heal yourself or another, destress, repair armor, or prepare yourself for what's ahead, which really encourages quieter character moments both introspectively and with others. I'm a big fan of this. This combining of role play and mechanics is also present in other features, such as one of the major level 1 healing abilities, which is more effective if you spend the time it takes to cast learning something new about the person you're healing or sharing something about yourself.

I didn't look at this too closely because I was just making a character for fun and don't have a party to play with, but as part of character creation you're given questions about your relationships to your party members to answer. Wanderhome also has these, and they were MASSIVELY successful in creating depth and meaningful connections between players -- after our table's session zero I was already so invested in all our characters, and when we actually played them they really came to life. I haven't looked to closely at Daggerhearts version of this, but I'm very excited to see them.

The experience mechanic seems really fun and creative, and I especially like the idea of using a phrase rather than something specific. That said, when I played the Hollow Knight TTRPG, which also lets players create their own skills, the open endedness of it was more confusing than inspiring, and there was a lot of potential for a usefulness disparity between players. I do think Daggerheart explains it better, though, and limiting the use of experience with a Hope cost helps to counteract any choices that might be too broad, so hopefully it will work better

I probably have more thoughts, but it getting late and I have a headache, so that's all I'm saying for now :D

Overall, Daggerheart has combined a lot of things I've liked in other games with promising mechanics I haven't seen before, and I'm very excited to try it out. I'm now realizing that I just made a list of things I like without any negative feedback, which isn't what I wanted to do, but I'm not really sure what to criticize without having played it myself.

I'm most curious to see how the non-initiative mechanic works; it has the potential to be a really excellent solve for a major problem in D&D (plenty of people have talked about how initiative limits teamwork, can be boring when its not your turn, etc, so I won't get into it here), but I don't think it's a solution that will work for everyone. Of course, games can't work for everyone, and shouldn't try to. It's working really well on CR's oneshot as I write this, but making choices and sharing spotlight in TTRPGs is literally their job, so I'm not surprised this works for them. I could see this going really well with some tables I've played with, and really poorly with others. I'm still really optimistic, though; it seems like the kind of thing that with the right table could be really excellent.

#you know its not the point of this post but im gonna say it anyways: highly recommend wanderhome #good game; thank you saltzman for recommending it #daggerheart #critical role #table top role playing game #ttrpg

[sundered-souls]

Inge Sjasaris

B A S I C S

Name: Inge Sjasaris (pre-EW), Inge Grymkoelwyn (post-EW, as she took her wife's last name to finally conform with her people's way... and give the middle finger to her in-laws who didn't think her good enough for their precious daughter while she was at it lmao)

Nicknames: none

Age: Early sixties

Nameday: 5th Sun of the 2nd Umbral Moon

Race: Viera

Gender: Loaded question given that I've never bothered posting about her tribe, but long story short: she's fine with being called a woman. In our modern western ways, she'd be more akin to genderqueer. In her people's way, it's hard to translate so she never bothers. Honestly any pronoun is technically fine by her, it'll never be completely right anyway.

Orientation: Whatever, but more female leaning overall.

Profession: Mercenary, alchemist

P H Y S I C A L     A S P E C  T S

Hair: I've yet to find a satisfying mod for what I have in mind but curly and mid-long, black, badly cut 'cause she tends to do it herself whenever the length annoys her too much. Rarely tied though, she doesn't like the feeling (hence the terrible haircuts)

Eyes: Grey

Skin: Dark brown, with some freckles

Tattoos/scars: A tattoo left by Louisoix's spell between her shoulder blades. Many scars scattered on her body, most faded though and none too remarkable.

F A M I L Y

Parents: Both alive, never named them x)

Siblings: Two unnamed sisters and one brother, which she doesn't know is a brother because she left before he hit puberty. He's called Solrunn and is played by @inah-ffxiv (who also plays her wife)

Grandparents: I didn't flesh out the family tree so far so.... no idea

In-laws and Other: She's married to Yersinia Bordetella, which isn't her real name if you wonder after reading Inge's family name above x) Yersi doesn't get along with her family, who's quite rich and posh, and they never approved of her choice of partner. Not that any of them care. Also in a relationship with Y'shtola.

Pets: None

S K I L L S

Abilities: The notable ones would be magic enhancing/debuffing (and healing but if you don't get hit, it's even better), war surgery, alchemy (mostly potions), botany and bow hunting. She can hear the Elementals too

Hobbies: Reading smut and romance. That's about it, she loves her job as an adventurer and doesn't take much time off.

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Steadfast and kind

Most Negative Trait: emotionally constipated and prone to reproach people their recklessness before doing the exact same fucking thing five minutes later (But it's different because she knows what she's doing™)

L I K E S

Colors: she loves bright colors in general but mostly wears neutral/earthly colors herself (as to not make a target of herself). Doesn't have a clear favorite

Smells: damp soil, forests, quite a lot alchemical agents, tea, campfires

Textures: Leather, smooth polished wood, soft wool

Drinks: Tea, tea and more tea

O T H E R    D E T A I L S

Smokes: Recreationally. Did you know the Twelve will approve of your union even if you're too high to remember the entire day? Should you get lucky enough to meet them, they'll even mention it /shudders

Drinks: Tea and water. Occasionally maybe some fruit juice. Never any alcohol, it makes her sick

Drugs: Nothing other than what I mentioned above

Mount Issuance: Inge's actually in the Twin Adder and got her chocobo through them. The bird doesn't have an actual name, she whistles to call it/give it orders and mostly uses it as a beast of burden rather than a mount. Her yol is in the care of the Mols. She didn't want to take it away from its natural environment, but she visits sometimes.

Been Arrested: Never. To say that she's always a law-abiding citizen might be pushing it though...

Tagged by: @lilbittymonster (ty!) Tagging @inah-ffxiv @adrayellinaeth @archaiclumina @hakai-zonapher @feathersage @wpip-raham @the-crimson-rose @sharlayanscion @ooc-miqojak (so you can pick which character you want to do it with) @punchelf @chadhunkler @clockworkdimensions @gatheredfates @corsair-kovacs @heavensw4rd

I went through my followers list and I have more characters so feel free to ignore if you're not interested and I'll tag more people when I do it with the rest of the cast!

#OC: Inge #thank you again o/

[veronicaphoenix]

THE SWEETNESS OF LOVE & PAIN*

Enter a world of crime, betrayal, and heartbreak. Upcoming full-length fanfiction featuring Noah Sebastian x Kitsey (og. fem. character) consisting of 3 acts. Coming Summer 2024.

"Loving means weakness, and your weakness has a name, Noah. Did you think we'd never find out?"

Disclaimer: This story will contain graphic descriptions of violence, including torture and murder, and will involve explicit sex scenes between the two main characters. The story will delve into harsh and delicate themes such as abuse and mental health. The content presented within may be disturbing or triggering to some, so it's obviously intended for mature audiences only. I do not condone or endorse the behaviors depicted in the narrative (except for Noah being a sweetheart to his girl). This work is a fictional piece and does not reflect real-life events or individuals. Viewer discretion is strongly advised.

*working title

SUMMARY — INTRODUCTION TO ACT I

Noah has been entangled in a life of crime since his brother Abel’s passing. Forced to right his wrongs and avoid dire consequences, Noah is left with no choice but to commit a series of perilous jobs in order to break free from the chains his own brother left around his neck.  

Amidst the darkness of his life, Noah meets Kitsey, the sweetest creature he’s ever laid eyes on. Awestruck by her bravery and boldness during an unfortunate incident at a party, he falls in love immediately. 

Kitsey, a lovely and passionate librarian with captivating brown eyes, is far from having a perfect life, either. Marked by a troubled childhood, she thinks life would never be truly fair to her. That’s until she meets the most perfect boy: Noah. 

As years pass and their relationship deepens, Kitsey senses that their situation won’t improve unless Noah puts an end to the constant blackmailing he’s facing from the people he’s working for. But Noah is blinded by hope, believing time is on their side. He wants to get his freedom back, and above that, he wants to give Kitsey hers and provide her with everything else she didn’t have as a child.

However, as Kitsey's life hangs in the balance after one of Noah's jobs takes a harrowing turn, Noah faces the crushing reality that his delay in breaking free has put the love of his life in danger, igniting a race against time to save her, uncovering the true cost of his choices and the sacrifices needed to secure a future with his girl.

SNIPPET

Standing on her tiptoes, Kitsey carefully slotted the book into its designated space on the shelf. A faint sight escaped her lips as she successfully nestled it into the snug gap among the other books in the section. She was about to grab the next book from the trolley she’d been pushing through the aisles for the past half-hour when she caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of her eye. A tall, slender figure was approaching from the other side.  

Noah had a soft smile playing on his lips, hands casually tucked into the pockets of his jeans. He was wearing a black jacket, his hair still glistening slightly, as if he had taken a shower not long ago.  

Kitsey’s surprise was evident as she stared at him. He was supposed to be sleeping; it was only eleven in the morning. He had come home at six thirty, and even though that day he had struggled to fall asleep while she got ready for work, typically, he wouldn’t wake up until well past noon, occasionally going to the gym if he woke earlier. It wasn’t uncommon for him to visit her at the library every once in a while. He had never said it, but Kitsey sensed that he enjoyed the serene atmosphere of her workplace and the sight of her engrossed in her tasks. Noah, in fact, adored watching her, his heart swelling with every passing second and each delicate movement of her fingers over the covers of the books. Her presence alone brought him a peace that he hadn’t found anywhere else, ever. 

Today, however, he was there for a different purpose.  

“Noah, what are you d—” Her question was cut short when Noah enveloped her in a warm embrace, his long arms engulfing her.   

Noah’s familiar scent of soap mingling with his cologne brought a comforting sense of security, even in the library where the most threatening danger could be a flame setting the pages of the books on fire. It took her a moment to process the unexpected tender embrace, but as she inhaled his scent, she melted into him, letting his warmth seep through her despite the cold outside.

"I missed my girl, so I thought I'd come see her," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as he drew back slightly to meet her light brown gaze while keeping his arms around her waist. She was dressed in black jeans and a white knitted shirt, a black ribbon holding back some of her hair, her glasses absent. "Any chance I can steal you away for a few minutes and treat you to a hot chocolate?"

His sweet suggestion elicited a smile from Kitsey, making her forget for a while how odd it was that he was up that early and standing there, in one of the library hallways. Surely there was something going on, something nagging at him. She knew him too well after so many years of dating. One way or another, she couldn't keep her fingers from gently playing with the strands of hair at the nape of his neck.

"My next break is in fifty minutes," she informed him.

"I can wait," Noah replied.

"All right, but no following me around like a lost puppy," Kitsey warned, her hand patting his chest.

"I promise," Noah assured her with a grin, lifting a hand in a solemn pledge. "I'll find a good book and wait like an obedient puppy in one of those armchairs."

The sound of her soft little laughter was a balm to his nerves. She was okay. She was safe. She was where she loved to be, in the library, immersed in her work amidst the comforting presence of books. 

Everything was as it should be. 

No need to worry.

Kitsey is safe.

Snippet 2: Meet Grey

#noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens fic #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian fanfiction #bad omens cult #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian x ofc

[room-surprise]

Hi there, I’ve been reading your Kabumisu fic (SMHTGOTG) and I am obsessed!!! I love the way you interpret Kabru’s and Mithrun’s personalities and adapt their stories to a modern world. I can’t wait to see more of Mithrun’s past and them meeting the Laios gang!

I truly feel like you gave them the love and depth that Ryoko Kui wants for her characters. I really appreciate it after seeing more one-dimensional takes about Dunmeshi characters on twitter (of course it’s twitter) and even tumblr as the series got more popular.

Kui put so much effort in creating a beautiful and heartfelt story, trying her best to reflect complicated social issues through fantasy setting, showing how characters with varied backgrounds/ races overcome prejudices, grow to respect each other’s differences and how human they all are deep down, all while encouraging fans to care for their health, but all some people zoom in is which race is the most obviously problematic, which race is allowed a free pass to hold prejudice, which character is not that great actually did you not know they were racist at some point in the story??? (Growth? Never heard of her. Ignorance? That’s a CRiME!)

Ironically, all of that just reminds me of how performative the canaries are when they act all shocked and offended about Mithrun stating the slur the elves used to say all the time

(So sorry for the long rant 😭, I just really appreciate your fic and the analysis your made about Dunmeshi among the increasing bad faith takes)

OMG... Anon thank you so much for writing to me! This absolutely made my day. You're very sweet. Honestly I have the best readers in the world you're all paying such close attention to what I write and picking up what I put down, and that makes me so so so happy 😭

The #1 thing I ask myself while I'm planning and writing my fics is "does this feel like something that would happen in Dungeon Meshi?" And I guess I'm doing an OK job of that because people keep telling me what my writing feels like :D

And you are 100% right, there's always been bad takes and oversimplifications of the world and characters of Dungeon Meshi like what you're describing, but since it's getting more popular that means more people are talking about it, which unfortunately means, statistically, that there are going to be more bad takes…

On the positive side, there's also been lots of wonderful new fic and art that people are making, and lots of good takes too! Just a bit frustrating to wade through the swamp of bad stuff to get to the treasure.

Gotta just try hard to stay positive and focus on making good stuff you love, and not stressing about stuff that's bad and makes you upset.

And never apologize for writing me a long message!!! I agree with everything you said and I was so happy to read this when I got up this morning, so thank you for taking the time to write to me. You can write or DM me any time (though obviously you can't stay anon if you're DMing me lol)

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #kabru #mithrun #my stuff #fanfic #kabumisu #kabrun #kabrumithrun

[vaguely-concerned]

A Stitch In Time First Read Reactions & Thoughts Monster Post Part 3

Stumbling over the finish line if not in style then with enthusiasm!

Part 1, Part 2

- Odo looked as if he could use a spell in his bucket; I had rarely seen him looking so run-down.

<3 I love one goo man 

“I’d better get this information to Captain Sisko,” Odo decided.

“Would you rather I tell him?” I offered. Odo looked positively drained; he needed to return to his liquid state.

Every time Odo is changeling-sleep deprived Garak starts to hear kill bill sirens and flash back to ‘the die is cast’. It is kind of sweet that he seems to be worried for his friend and not trying to gain an advantage or sneak around here tho. 

The ironies of the situation both amused and irritated me. Here I was, the invaluable decoder of Cardassian encryptions containing life-and-death information for the Federation—and they won’t trust me with the code to wake up Captain Sisko. Ah well, it was never easy being a Cardassian on this suspended chunk of desolation. And then I laughed out loud. But what about Odo? The last time I looked he was a changeling, a member of the race of Founders that was determined to destroy the Alpha Quadrant. Not only did he have the captain’s wake-up code, he also slept with the station’s second-in-command.

LMAO you know what fair fucking point garak. Tbf I’m sure there are some people who’ve been assuming you’ve been fucking the chief medical officer too 

But if Damar had thrown his support to the rebels … if it wasn’t a ploy… I wanted my revenge on him, yes, but not at the expense of liberating Cardassia. And it wasn’t just liberating the planet from the control of a foreign power. It was closer… more personal. I wanted something that was even more difficult to attain—redemption.

The doors opened, and once again I was alert as I stepped into the deserted corridor and moved past the sleeping quarters to my own. It was time, I kept repeating in my head. It was time to take our place among the planets and peoples of the Alpha Quadrant as a civilized and open society. It was time to repair the damage. “A stitch in time saves….” What? What was that expression?

*pats him very gently and lovingly on the head* This man can unironically fit so much character development in him

“You’re Khon-Ma, aren’t you?” She didn’t respond. “Being the only Cardassian on this station, I expected you a long time ago. What kept you?”

She should shoot you actually just for this

I stopped. What’s the point, I thought. All the stories were beginning to run together and they all had the same ending.

Smoking gun of ‘hm I think there might be some unreliable narration still lingering here’ lol. In a way all but openly admitting that like this is probably more like telling the truth for garak than telling the actual truth would be. From how we see him interact with Toran in the show I buy that the emotional truth about this is basically as he tells it tho — I think he’s angry and disgusted with himself more for having been unable to stop something from happening and taking that as being as responsible for it as the asshole who caused it, rather than actively making it happen himself. That’s the kind of pattern he has in so many other places in his life too, trying to navigate in the very limited space and with the very limited agency being submissive to personalities like Tain and Toran leaves you. 

“And they were all killed,” she said even more softly.

“End of story, Remara.” I considered telling her how I had exacted my own revenge upon Toran, and that my only regret was that his death hadn’t come sooner… but what was the point? Another treacherous opportunist dies after tearing another hole in the fabric. What’s gained except the potential for more damage? I rose. The station’s gravity felt like it had increased threefold.

“If you’re going to kill me, get it over with. One way or the other I’d like to go to sleep.”

“Who gave the order?” she asked.

“What difference does it make? I did, if you like.”

Remara just looked at me. She lowered the phaser. Part of me was deeply disappointed. 

The ‘has he been thinking with his horny brain this whole time or is he passive-actively suicidal’ conundrum. I suppose there’s nothing saying it can’t be both but I also think it’s more on the second side than he’d like anyone to know. I guess there’s no easy way to tell the guy who saved your life that you don’t really care that much for said life most days, and if you were offered some plausible deniability…

“You’re going to have to leave this station. They’ll keep coming after you until someone succeeds. Goodbye, Elim.” She put her hand against the side of my face, and I felt the heat coming through. Perhaps her passion was a curse as a terrorist, but she was a whole person … and she had found redemption.

Chewing on the idea of being a whole person vs. ‘unfinished man’ and ‘mosaic person’ 

- Gul Toran is someone Tain has warned me to monitor periodically.

Ah so Four Lubak is the future Gul Toran (the asshole in the Natima Lang ep if I remember correctly)! I see. That also means his snarking about Toran being made Gul is entirely performative he’s known about it for years lmao that was literally just to be a bitch  yes wonderful

- The fact that Tain has an evil Romulan twin/soulmate and they hate each other fdskjfhdsa

- So interesting that it does take until middle-age and Palandine’s extended presence in his life before Garak’s sense of humor really emerges fully. It seems such an integral part of him in the show, it sure is Something that it basically had to be carefully tended to and supported like a lil flower by careful gardener’s hands (thank you Palandine I’m sorry your life is a nightmare) 

- But I must confess that the toast proposed by proconsul Merrok left me feeling much better about the whole affair.

. . . 

“At first I couldn’t think why you hated him,” I confessed.

“I don’t hate anyone, Elim,” he carefully explained. “I have a job to do—and sometimes it’s necessary to eliminate those enemies who can’t otherwise be dissuaded. And he was determined to block our interests at every juncture.”

“I don’t hate anyone” says man composed of about 98% hate per volume

“Oh yes, my boy—yes, you did excellent work. A job well done.” He had never complimented me with such unconditional enthusiasm. It was almost a demonstration of paternal pride.

“You see, I had this planned for a long time, Elim. But Tolan wouldn’t agree. He wouldn’t take on the assignment, and he wouldn’t pass on the information. But thankfully he trusted you, Elim.” Tain patted me on the shoulder, which meant I was dismissed.

Weaponizing Tolan’s memory against him. Fucked Up. 

- Fear and isolation, Doctor. You can’t have one without the other. Fear isolates and isolation is fear’s natural home. Just as my orchids need carefully prepared soil to protect them against disease and pests, fear needs the isolated circumstances to deepen and grow without connective or relational interference. When fear is allowed to flourish in its dark and lonely medium, then any evil that can be conceived by the fearful imagination will emerge.<

This whole chapter is so fucking good, and it starts slapping right from the beginning. The way this works not only as a description of the larger crimes of Cardassia, but also the shape of his own life. 

‘My orchids’ is very sweet, and a phrasing that occurs several times. 

My feelings are spent, my moral rationalizations are empty, and I can’t say it’s not my problem when I’m pulling and lifting and throwing bodies of people who once only wanted to go about the business of their lives.

His life has been a series of violent deconstruction followed by reassembly of the broken pieces, and this should have been the most shattering of all but it comes across as almost peaceful. He finally gets to have his soul to himself enough to make something meaningful with it and put it together in his own time and in the shape of his own truth, even in the middle of such a painful realization.  

Colonel Kira once told me how many Bajorans died during the Cardassian Occupation, and my mind rejected the figure like a piece of garbage. We’d been in the service of the state, I had told myself, and the state had determined what was necessary. But now I understand why she hated me. More important, I now understand that constant burning, almost insane look in her eyes.

. . . 

Most of us who are left, Doctor, are insane. We have to be in order to survive and emerge from our isolation. It’s the only way we can live with the pain of what we did. Or didn’t. Each of us accepts the amount of responsibility we are capable of bearing. Some accept nothing, and these people are quickly swallowed by their isolation, their insanity transformed into a rationalized evil. A smaller group accepts total responsibility, and their insanity is an unbearable burden that cripples and eventually grinds them down. The rest of us carry what we can and leave the rest. For myself, Doctor, when a corpse is too heavy to bury I try to remember to ask someone to help me.

This man can hold so much fucking character development 2 electric boogaloo and HOW!! Imagine early seasons Garak saying anything like this! Even while I’ll also buy that early seasons Garak does have the capacity to get to this point in the end after enough work. AND the way it goes with his dream of Cardassia as a mass grave earlier/later on in the book — which also sort of indicates that the person he’s asked to ‘bury these bodies with’, as it were, before, was specifically Bashir. ‘You taught me to ask for help’. I’m so fucking soft for all the ways Garak is showing him that he touched his life in the very best and most beautiful way anyone could, no matter where they go from here.  

- “I don’t know. I suppose I’m just trying to reconcile statistical analysis with Romulan gardens.” We lapsed into a long, stony silence. Usually she knew better than to expect a real answer when she did ask about my working life. We both tried not to venture into certain personal spaces; often the attempt functioned as a barrier. I’m sure she knew that I was more than a data analyst at the Hall of Records. She also understood that the less she knew about what I did the more chance our relationship had to survive. For the same reason I never asked about Lokar. The less information, the less damage if either one of us was betrayed.

Garak that’s kind of sloppy, of course she knows something’s up if you’re making it that easy to figure out lol

Another interesting detail: Palandine seemingly never learns that Tain is Garak’s biological father, then. Very emblematic of the way all those secrets were still getting between them despite their best efforts. And lending even more meaning to the fact that many years later he lets Julian find out in uh perhaps the most direct way possible haha. 

“I’m of two minds. I know, that’s just another way of saying that I’m confused.”

Huh. I wonder if the way this is phrased suggests that that’s not a common expression in Cardassian and he’s translating it directly from Standard or something, or that his uh. Mental confusion/dissociation/fragmentation pops up enough that she’s familiar with it already here? 

“Yes. What if they’re right? What if they could help us reclaim something noble in ourselves? Where does that leave us?” We stood looking at each other. The night wind gusted through the foliage and I wondered where I’d be if I didn’t have this woman’s friendship.

What a soft way to describe it. Really drives home the like. Wholeness of what she meant to him. 

“It was a while ago, Palandine. I don’t know if they’re in the same place … or if they even meet tonight.” Her enthusiasm rendered me as helpless as it did when I first met her.

Julian/Palandine parallels time yet again 

I looked at Palandine, and she now radiated with such light that I turned away, inexplicably embarrassed as if I had seen something I shouldn’t.

So sad somehow that they kind of drift apart in this scene, where Palandine finds something that helps her and he mostly seems to come away lost and confused, if cleansed. (and he still can’t cry with someone else in the room) 

After Palandine had left, I had spent the rest of the night sitting in the Grounds near the children’s area.

How is this so goddamn sad fhkjshfa. They’re still just children, and no one is going to come pick them up from the playground, no one is going to protect them

- “Yes, of course,” I replied. I took a deep breath, and my disparate parts began to snap back. 

Adrift from himseeelf. This is kind of what I meant about Palandine maybe picking up on some of his — this stuff. Which structurally pops back up in The Wire too, with how he tells the stories. 

“You look like you’re not eating anything,” Prang observed. If Tain was the father of the Obsidian Order, Prang was its mother.

LMAO. And he’s constantly worried about his saddest son I guess. Tain/Prang most cursed DS9 rarepair idea???

- His other hand was now probing my skull behind the right ear. The man’s ambidexterity was impressive.

Lol diversity win: the mad doctor about to implant you with experimental tech is ambidextrous!

Oh. Oh no it’s the wire time. The fact that he’s one of the first agents fitted with it b/c his hindbrain distress tolerance is too worryingly low  for their comfort…

When I tell you that this wire will give you no trouble, as long as you don’t meddle with it, you can believe me. You know that, don’t you, Elim?”

“Yes, I do, Mindur.” The man had never given me anything but superb technology and sound advice. “Please continue,” I submitted.

“Good boy.” Timor thumped my shoulder again.

HORROR SHOW CULTURE ONCE MORE and also. Praise kink revisited and made more interestingly fucked up. Also submission theme thread. 

Do you think he’d meddle with the wire eventually even if he hadn’t been exiled. I feel like there’s a non-zero chance of that.  

- I remembered the Hebitian frieze and its lush background. Of course we were different people: it was a different world. The more the forests receded, it seems, the more we covered ourselves. Their world didn’t need an agent of the Obsidian Order to investigate a group of prominent Cardassians who “happened” to be spending their vacation together. It didn’t have Enabran Tain targeting one of his bitterest enemies, Procal Dukat, a powerful member of the Central Command. And I’m certain it didn’t have fathers who refused to acknowledge their sons. If we lived on the next spiral of the cycle of life, how did we know it wasn’t going downward?

a) ‘what if the glass is not only half-empty but also leaking’ yes very cheery Garak and b) one of the rare times he lets not just his bitterness with Tain but also his longing to be acknowledged by him fully shine through. To me it seems like that’s the one thing that’s still too raw for him to dwell on in this narrative. He mostly doesn’t get into or sit with the pretty obvious fact that he loved Tain, and desperately wanted Tain to love him too. You can see the traces through the whole thing of just how angry he is with him now that he’s dead (GOOD! HE SHOULD BE! HE SHOULD BE ANGRIER; IF ANYTHING!), but that particular element of it seems too vulnerable to keep in sight most times

- PYTHAS IS BACK BA-BEY! 

His grace was even more refined as he moved to the small house that was our assigned base of operations. If anything could have taken my mind off downward spirals it was the appearance of Pythas. 

And the mutual crush endures (also with me I love a sneaky little twink)

“What was good for you, Elim, was usually agreeable to me as well,” he wryly observed.

The way Pythas is like Garak’s shadow — except in Garak’s eyes he does everything ‘right’, he doesn’t seem to have that same aching need for connection, he follows his orders easily, he’s perfect and he reaps the rewards Garak never gets. Garak never even resents or begrudges him any of it. And yet they end up in basically the same place when all’s said and done, in the ruins of Cardassia, and Garak might even win out b/c his trials with the mortifying ordeal of being known mean he has some people in his life he’s starting to truly trust, the way Pythas seems to with Nal as well. Thinking. A lot of things. 

Over the years, his modest demeanor and quiet ways had turned him into more of a solitary person than I ever was. I had learned to withdraw my presence as a tool, but I was always aware of my need for contact, and that my value as an operative lay in my ability to engage others in a nonthreatening manner that drew them out. Pythas had learned to withdraw his presence as a way of life—and he moved through the world like a shadow. I was not surprised that Tain had recruited him for the “invisibles.” It took a special person to be able to operate in such unrelentingly anonymous circumstances—no family, no fixed base or identity—and there was no doubt in my mind that he was one of the most brilliant agents in the Order. Our relationship picked right up where it had left off at Bamarren. Other than Prang, I have never met anyone where so much was communicated with so few words. His eyes had a depth and eloquence that told me everything I wanted to know. How ironic that my lust for conversation was satisfied by someone who rarely spoke.

Ah, so if Palandine is the proto-Julian, as it were (and Parmak is the silver fox Ersatz Julian), Pythas is definitely the anti-Julian as well as Garak’s shadow hahaha. 

- Garak is undeniably a city boy at the end of the day haha. Pythas help him out there in the jungle he doesn’t belong here I understand why you’re so worried

- In a way it was touching: the old man reverting to the mind control exercises he had learned as a child.

Garak. The warning bells. Should they perhaps be ringing merrily in your mind at this combination of words and letters. Oh well. 

- “Yes, it’s me.” I squatted so that I was at eye level. I tried to soften myself, round off all the sharp edges.

Yes yes yes this is such a good description of that Thing he does. His ‘just a lil guy/tailor/gardener/funny spy man’ move

‘Carriers of disease’ and spreading poison motifs are back. Dukat Sr. uses it here to describe cowardice/Federation ideals/hashtag the SJWs/the forces that threaten to disrupt the status quo of the fascist state. 

- I left the containment field in place and stepped outside to clear my head. No matter how objective I tried to remain, I could never remain totally unaffected by another man’s horror. Fear was a contagious disease.

This seems right to me — I don’t think anyone who could truly shrug off other people’s suffering would have to make up such webs of justification and alienation as Garak does to do what he does. Maybe that empathy is why he’s so good at it and also why it messes him up so bad over time 

His *Working 9-5 slowed down & with reverb plays softly in the background* vibe about it is undeniably kind of funny tho

Contagious disease thread cont too, and not the first time fear is spoken of that way

“Who are you?” he asked for the second time, fighting against the toxin’s effect. This was one tough old warrior.

“Your worst nightmare,” I replied.

“Ah,” he croaked. “Then Tain sent you.”

- YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE fhdkjshasjh good for you Pythas isn’t there to hear it that is so embarrassing Garak (affectionate)

- Garak dreaming of being buried with the still-whispering mass grave of Old Cardassia… what the fuck I don’t think I’d sleep ever again after that haha

Of all of the people he dreams of, most of them are dead (or potentially soon about to be dead? Not entirely sure how that works out for Mila in particular. And I guess we technically don’t know if Calyx is dead, but after so long it seems very likely), except as we find out later Pythas. And Palandine isn’t there. 

NO. NO YOU CANNOT TELL ME THE FIRST THING HE DOES IS CALL JULIAN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING NIGHT  W H A  T 

“It’s not a medical emergency. Please, I realize this is an imposition.” There was a silence and I heard another voice in the background. Ezri Dax. A muffled conversation. The Doctor cleared his throat again.

“I’ll be right over,” he said.

This is so melancholy I want to disappear into a puddle of quiet yearning and never come back to solid form just put me in a bucket like the Odo. 

This is also the first time in this book Garak has asked Julian for help rather than Julian trying to approach him to give him help (and being rebuffed). He’s called for and he comes :’)

He gave me his puzzled look, which wrinkled his brow. I was always amazed at how deep the furrows were for one so young.

Soft little detail time yet again. Garak has been sitting across Julian for years just looking at this face and picking out new details. 

“ ‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’” he quoted.

“Who’s that?” I asked.

“Shakespeare,” the Doctor replied.

“Hmmh.” I nodded in agreement, surprised that for once the author of the politically misguided Julius Caesar made sense.

Fhdskhfskjdfhsdjak you say that as if you didn’t quote the politically misguided Julius Caesar to your father’s face on a burning spaceship as you for the first time truly saw that he was as fallible as anyone else and invoking Bashir’s name in the process Garak

“Of who we are, Doctor. Our being. Human being. Cardassian being. But we have become these beings—are becoming, always in the process of becoming—on these other dimensional levels that are not limited by the measures of time and space. And the great determining factor of our becoming is relationship. Unrelated, I become unrelated. Alienated. Opposed, I become an antagonist. Unified, I become integrated. A functioning member of the whole.” The Doctor was thoughtful; his previous agitation had dissolved.

“You’re a scientist, Doctor. You have a deep understanding of this level. I don’t mean just the mechanics. You understand about relationship, the laws that attract and repel, the combinations that nurture and poison. Health and disease. Integrity and breakdown.”

“In your dream,” he said, “I presided over the burial of yourself and the people you were most intimately related to. Why?”

“You said, ‘for the good of the quadrant…. they must never be allowed to return.’ Why would you say that?” I asked.

“I can only think that….” He stopped and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Garak. This is not easy for me. I still can’t help thinking this was your dream. Even if I was invited … you were the playwright.”

“Yes, but put yourself in that part. Why would you bury these people and cover up the pit?” The Doctor looked at me in frustration. “Please. Indulge me. It’s vital that I have your answer.”

“If you and the others were carriers of some disease,” he shrugged. “In our fourteenth century on Earth there was a terrible plague, the Black Plague, which wiped out half of Europe’s population. People believed that the dead bodies had to be destroyed, burned … buried … because it was the only way to prevent the spread of the disease….”

. . . 

The Doctor was studying me with an interest in his face I hadn’t seen in years.

“Well? Is it the Black Plague, Doctor? Or just the ramblings of an old spy on the eve of battle?”

“You’re an amazing man, Garak.”

“And my gratitude to you can never be adequately expressed. But I shall try,” I promised.

“Please. What have I done?” he asked genuinely.

“That time you extended yourself so generously and found a way to remove the wire from my brain without killing me …”

“I would have done that for anyone,” the Doctor interrupted.

“I’m sure that’s true, but that’s not what I mean. All during the time the device was deteriorating, I was convinced I was going to die.”

“You were even resigned to it,” he reminded me.

“I was also convinced that it was all a dream, and I kept asking myself what you were doing there.”

The Doctor was puzzled. “But what you just told me, that our dreams are just another way we relate … ?”

“I had forgotten. That point of my life was perhaps the lowest. I had forgotten many things. When I ‘woke up’ and realized that because of you I was going to live—at that moment, I began to recollect some valuable information.”

“About dreams?” he asked.

“Yes. But specifically about relationships, and how they set the course of our lives. You not only ’saved’ my life, you also made it possible for me to live it.” The Doctor’s face darkened.

“What is it, Doctor?”

“The time I wounded you in that holosuite program ….”

“Yes,” I prompted expectantly.

“I never apologized for my action.”

“And you must never apologize!” I urged.

“Please, Garak. This is not the time to give me a lesson on how to behave like a hardened spy….”

“No, no, no. On the contrary, when you shot me, my dear friend, that was the next step in my process of remembering. I was going to sacrifice the others, the people you considered your friends, because that was the only way I could be sure to save myself. You opposed me. Indeed, you would have killed me if necessary.”

“I’m sure it would never have gotten to that point,” the Doctor muttered.

“You would have killed me,” I repeated. “For the greater good.” The cliche suddenly had another meaning for both of us. “This is my last trip to Cardassia. I’m not returning. You were in the dream for a very specific reason. Once again, you helped me remember. Thank you, Julian.” I put my hand on his shoulder.

“You’re welcome,” he smiled warmly. “And by the way. It wasn’t the dead bodies that carried the disease. It was later determined that it was the rats feeding on the bodies who were the transmitters.”

“Then I guess we’ll go to Cardassia and look for the rats,” I said.

“Be careful, Garak. And look after my hot-headed friend, will you?”

“Don’t worry. We’ll look after each other,” I answered him. He moved to the door. “Did you really have a dream about Hippocrates?” I asked.

“Yes. Actually I did.”

“Why am I not surprised?” I replied.

First name use…

Disease contagion imagery, and this time it’s very clearly symbolizing y’know the fascism of it all. Weirdly moving that Julian takes a moment to gently imply that the disease isn’t inherent in the people Garak loves and has loved (or in him, for that matter), but in the conditions that created them. 

There’s so much going on here idk if I could start to pick it apart yet, I may need to let this percolate in my skull for a while before I know what to say haha. I think part of it is Garak telling Julian to never apologize for showing him the full truth of himself (not least because that also lets Garak see the full truth of himself in turn), and Julian finally relaxing about. Something. He’s been ashamed about something he can finally let go of. 

‘I thought it was a dream, and kept asking myself what you were doing there’.......I will never emotionally recover from this I want to write fic specifically about this lord have mercy on me

- *Tain Voice* with your hippie bullshit and your women! 

*tiny garak voice* woman…

Over the years we rarely met outside his office; only an emergency or drastic change of plan would alter the routine. Now as we walked through the late morning sun and pedestrians at a leisurely pace I experienced a connection to the surrounding bustle and energy in a way that felt almost normal. A father and his son taking a stroll. Tain was heavier, and I could hear his breathing labor with the effort. He’s an old man, I thought. He’s mortal. I’d never thought about Tain in this way, and I became protective as we approached an aggressive knot of pedestrians at the edge of the Coranum Sector. One man was about to run Tain down when I intercepted his path and bumped him to the side. I ignored his challenge as we continued. “Yes, Elim. I’m getting old.” It wasn’t the first time he picked up my thoughts; this was how our conversations usually went.

HE BECAME PROTECTIVE 

You know the way he keeps touching Tain’s arm and shoulder in The Die is Cast, like he’s steadying him or about to step in front of him to protect him or something? Yeah… he burns his hands on this stove over and over and over but he can’t stop trying to touch it :(

This was so typical of his manipulation. Just moments ago I was feeling protective of this benign old man, my father. And now… the irony filled my mouth with a bitter taste.

This is always & forever first and foremost an Enabran Tain hate zone

He moved to the covered seating area, where the sun filtered through the old vegetation. I had never been here with anyone but Palandine. With a long sigh he settled into a patch of sunlight on the low bench.

He’s like a fucking strangle vine he just winds himself into every single part of garak’s existence and chokes the life out of it 

“Yes,” I answered. The benign mask was slipping, and I began to see the depth of his anger.

. . . 

“You don’t know!” he repeated with a disgust I hadn’t heard since I was a boy and failed to record all the details of one of our walks.

Oof. Ow. Ack. 

“And all this while, instead of giving up your life to the work, hardening yourself into a leader who could inspire others and expand the vision, you’re playing out Hebitian fantasies with another man’s wife!”

“Yes. Just like Tolan!” I exploded. “Perhaps he was my real father after all.”

Tain rose like a man many years younger and grabbed my shoulder in a powerful grip. His anger was now a murderous fury and it was all I could do to hold my stance against the pain of his grip. His cold eyes told me I had betrayed him. Worse, I had failed him. He let go of my shoulder and turned away from me. My entire body trembled. When he turned back he had regained his composure.

The biggest sin Garak could commit in Tain’s eyes is to dare to separate himself from him in any way; to be anything but his mirror, to act as if he has any claim to his own soul. I feel like more than what happens with Barkan right after this, this is what Tain considers the real betrayal. 

Tain has never needed to hit him or become physically violent with him to keep him under control ever since he was a very small child, he’s relied on the terrorizing force of emotional violence. And as is so often the case with emotional violence, it’s been insidious and hidden enough, kept to private spaces and in the shadows, that Tain can pretend at plausible deniability b/c like. Who’s Garak even going to tell about it, for the longest time, if a miracle happened and he even found he could? Mila, who has joined the war on emotional violence on the side of emotional violence since probably before Garak was even born? (For understandable psychological reasons, but in unforgivable ways in the role of a parent.) I wonder if ‘making him’ lose control and expose himself and his violence for what it is like this (in public, even!) is also part of what he can’t forgive Garak for. This ah ‘slip-up’ is the first big crack we see in Tain’s image of perfect implacable control (which is very much still the impression you’re left with in Garak’s stories in The Wire too), in the same way that Improbable Cause/The Die Is Cast completely breaks that image down. He is getting old. He stayed in the game too long in the end and his iron grip is starting to slip and everything he’s forced to stay in place starts to slip out of that order with it.

Characterizing what Tolan was doing as ‘living with another man’s wife’ is SUCH a subtle burn tho lol like yeah maybe after the strictures of our society you SHOULD have married the mother of your child instead of outsourcing all your decency to the said mother’s BROTHER, Tain 

Aside from anything else going on here (and there is a lot going on)... does Tain even know who Garak is at all, just on a personal level? Why, after knowing him for like 40+ years at this point, presumably, would you expect him to have aspirations or the natural inclination towards leadership, have you ever met him??? He’s one of nature’s perfect right hand men (well. Maybe not entirely nature’s, Tain did this to him very deliberately on top of some basic natural tendencies lol), he’ll get you whatever you ask of him and I think organizing a team under him for you could be part of that when need be, but never has he shown the least inclination towards leadership. (In fact, despite longing for the recognition coming out on top would get him from daddy I mean his peers, he seems vaguely relieved each time Pythas gets to sit in the big important chair instead of him.) He isn’t Tain’s mirror, for all he dutifully tries to move in the ways that make it seem like he is. And Tain should be smart enough to know that, if the narcissism didn’t completely blot out his sight in this situation, and/or it’s just the ‘setting him up to fail and then acting outraged when he does’ pure maliciousness reaching its apex.

(In a kinder time and a kinder world I think Garak could have a real nice time being one of nature’s extremely devoted Partners rather than simply right hand man. And I would like to see it please)  

“From now on you will report to Corbin Entek.”

Oh, that’s the Entek of Second Skin, probably. Wish you a very ‘get vaporized for not knowing when to quit’ in the future entek 

As I watched him leave, I felt completely empty and wondered how I could feel such emptiness. This sudden, wrenching reversal of fortune … everything changed beyond recognition…. And yet … there was no anger, no self-pity … no fear. Only release. Release from the secrets. Release from the limbo where, ever since I was a boy, I had been trapped between imposed obligations and feelings of mysterious longing mixed with shame. I felt empty … and free.

Listen to that voice maybe garak (not that I think there IS any way out at this point or that there ever has been in truth, that’s kind of the tragedy of the whole thing, tain would never ever have let go of him)

- Mila goodbye time: 

“I’m afraid we’re not leaving you much,” she said. “The furnishings have already been taken away.”

“I wasn’t expecting anything.” I tried to keep all irony out of my tone.

“It’s your choice, Elim.” Her voice was just as neutral. “The house is yours to live in.”

Mother and son having a Carefully Extremely Civil conversation lol

“Do you know the circumstances … Mila?”

She looked at me. It was the first real contact we’d had in many years. She nodded slowly.

“Before I make my ‘choice,’ I need your help,” I said, surprised that the request emerged so simply. I wasn’t as angry with her as I wanted to be. Mila saw this and softened perceptibly.

This running thread that almost despite himself he understands and empathizes with her and her situation too much to be as angry with her as he probably should be. He understands her better than she understands him (than she could allow herself to understand him, even if she had the ability to). 

I think that these apparently contradictory elements of his personality are part of what makes him feel so real in some ways, too — interpersonally he can be incredibly petty and jealous and judgemental AND almost absurdly forgiving and generous, sometimes seemingly simultaneously, somehow. The classic containing multitudes meme but like forreals tho haha. That is what real people are like too. 

“I love her, Mila.”

“You’re a grown man, Elim.” I couldn’t decide whether she thought I didn’t know this or was seeing it for the first time herself.

“And Palandine’s a grown woman,” I replied.

“I don’t care about her. It’s you! You have to learn…” She broke off and passed me a cup which exuded the herbal aroma I’ve always associated with her and Tolan. Bitterbark and sweet groundroot. Moist rich soil.

“To control myself?” Mila blew on her tea. I shrugged at the obvious irony; I didn’t want to get into a fight.

. . . 

Mila sat on a bin and sipped her tea. She avoided my look. As I positioned another bin across from her, I experienced a deep pain in my shoulder. It was still throbbing.

“Tain’s angry … with me. He wants me never to see her again and … to kill Barkan.” Still she avoided looking at me. “But you know this, don’t you? And you know what’s possible. Because you have your own … thoughts about this. Don’t you Mila?” I persisted.

Again she jerked away from me. Tea from her cup slopped onto the floor. “There’s no time, Elim.” She put the cup down, wiped her hands on the protective smock she wore, and looked for something to clean the floor with. “There’s no time for this.”

The mother/child relationship here is… y’know I talk a lot about Garak’s daddy issues for obvious reasons, but the fact that his mother recoils in fear when he tries to engage some sliver of real emotional intimacy with her prrrrrobably did some similar amounts of shaping him huh haha. (and he does this too in many ways — that’s partially where his trouble with Julian comes from in this book, whenever Julian tries to get too close Garak flinches away or counterattacks, for all that he clearly longs for it as well.)

The  roundabout way you can tell her love for him even so tho. ‘I don’t care about her’. Palandine is not her baby, Elim, you are. Mila hasn’t been left with the luxury of love to spare for someone she doesn’t even know when you’re setting yourself up for destruction right in front of her eyes…. 

“I mean it, Mila. I would. But I think about her, feel her, all the time. Especially when I’m alone.”

Palandine/Bashir parallels once more and I really mean it!! There used to be a little Palandine in his head the way there’s a little Julian in there now. (and sadly she doesn’t seem to be there anymore, or maybe he’s just integrated what he got from her and let the rest go for both of their sakes, the same way he let Mila the regnar go when it was time.) 

“Sacrifices?” In frustration Mila took off her smock to wipe the tea from the floor. “Elim, you amaze me.” Shaking her head, she got down on her knees and began scrubbing vigorously, as if the spilled drops of tea were hostile agents capable of spreading disease and destruction.

“Really? Well, I’m pleased I still have the ability—”

“Sacrifices,” she hissed, her control escaping like steam from a narrow rift. “What was the name of that book you once gave me? When you first came back from Bamarren. The one you proclaimed as the greatest Cardassian novel ever written and insisted that we read it.” Mila was still on her knees, but now I was the offending spot she vigorously rubbed with her words and eyes. “Generations of one family, each faced with the same choice at a crucial moment. Do they serve their personal needs or do they serve future generations? Do they choose the comfort of their own lives over the life of the state and its mission? I read it, Elim. You told me to and I did.”

“The Never-Ending Sacrifice,” I answered.

“Yes. That’s the one.” She made a sighing sound as she stood up. Mila was heavier now, and moved with greater deliberation. She, too, had grown old. “I suggest you reread it.”

“Tain always came first, didn’t he? I suppose that was your never-ending sacrifice.” I no longer reined in the irony.

I’m CRYING this is SUCH a mom thing to do. Her teen son came home with a book he waxed poetic about and she read it to try to understand him and never told him until now. 

Also: disease contagion theme thread! To Mila, it seems to be tied in with the sentiment reading of it — the way her child’s suffering stains all her safe stable justifications and rationalizations that she needs to stay alive in this system. The remaining humanity that can’t be completely stamped out, even by Tain and a lifetime of fuckery. The ‘imperfections’ of life that can’t be subsumed completely into order. 

Garak I think it’s better if you don’t recommend that book to people it clearly leads to disappointing interpersonal outcomes every time haha

“Tolan understood and accepted his obligations,” Mila said coldly. “But he was sentimental. Like you. That was the one thing Enabran worried about.”

I smiled in sad recognition. Sentimental. Yes, Tain and Mila had definitely shared their confidences and judgments with each other.

“But I don’t blame Tolan. He was a good man.” Mila watched me as I rose.

“Yes. So you keep saying.” I wanted to leave.

“She’s nothing but trouble for you, Elim. End it now. Do what Enabran says and reclaim your rightful place.”

“My place,” I repeated.

“Now, Elim. Otherwise you’re in real danger,” she warned with a certainty that reminded me of the time she’d brought me to Tain after I’d left Bamarren. Mila always knew what was at the heart of the never-ending sacrifice.

“Thank you for your help,” I said, too weary for irony.

“What did you expect from me?”

“To be honest, I can’t remember,” I answered. “Have a pleasant trip.” I smiled and bowed.

“What did you expect from me?”/“To be honest, I can’t remember,” is THE realest description I’ve seen of a mother/child relationship. This might say more about me than I should be comfortable with probably but still. 

“Let Limor know if you’ll be living here.” I nodded. Yes, I thought, that would be my answer. My choice. She shook out her smock to determine whether or not to put it back on.

“Mila.” She looked at me and took a deep breath, as if preparing herself for my question.

“Who was Tolan?”

“My brother.” She decided to wear the smock, and I left.

I am SO FUCKING SAD. She puts the smock back on. That’s the closest thing to keeping either of them she gets to have, just the second hand reminder that they were there, small and innocuous enough that no one will know and no one can blame her. In the end Tain takes everything else, and she lets him because it’s the only way to survive him. GET OUT OF THERE ELIM PLEASE 

- On an impulse, instead of leaving immediately, I went down the corridor to Tain’s old office. The door was open, and I stopped at the threshold just as Pythas looked up from a now much cleaner desk. He smiled shyly and stood up.

“Please come in, Elim,” he offered. What surprised me was how pleased I was to see him. Just as I had felt he was the only other person who deserved to be One Lubak, I now believed he was the only other person who deserved to occupy this office.

He smiled shyly did he fhskja. Also Garak’s enduring lack of bitterness towards Pythas is amazing. ‘Yeah I would be mad but he really is that good if it had to be anyone it should be him’

- She stopped just short of my covering shrub, and the sight of her face shocked me. It was swollen and bruised. One eye was completely closed, and the other contained enough pain for ten. It took every bit of my willpower not to reach out and hold her. Her one eye held mine, I knew she wanted to tell me something so important that she was willing to wait all night if necessary. 

I’m so fucking glad Barkan is about to eat it for good. I only wish it could have gone slower and more painfully for him. 

I wanted to laugh, and it took a concerted effort to gather my disparate parts in order to integrate my will.

‘Disparate parts’ motif (dare we say mosaic motif?) detected

“At least the smile’s gone,” the first voice said. I was fully awake now. 

Barkan’s life is just being haunted by fifty shades of Garak’s shit eating grin apparently 

“Flaunting your ‘relationship’ in public like infatuated schoolchildren.”

“Yes, I suppose it would have been wiser to behave like experienced adulterers,” I replied with a sigh.

“You’re the lowest form of scavenger, Elim. You have no attachments of your own, and so you feed on the emotional vulnerabilities of others.

. . .

“But you’re a failure, Elim. You even failed in your attempt to assassinate me.”

“I didn’t fail with Palandine,” I said quietly.

LMAO gottem 

The chemical makeup of Garak’s brain during Barkan’s beating should probably have been studied by science it must be the strangest rave in there

The others were there—my fellow travelers, their voices murmuring tonelessly, producing a steady sound that permeated the medium and intensified our connection. Their voices speaking to me. Their faces, serene and loving, illuminating the darkness as they floated by. Everyone I have ever known. Family. Faces from childhood. Bamarren. People I had known briefly. People I have known forever. Loved. Hated. We were all just together now, sharing the same nurturing medium as we traveled along our currents until we gradually separated.

This… near-death hallucination or spiritual experience or whatever it is vs. his mass grave dream later… very birth vs. death themed

Faces formed and reformed. Each one superimposed on the next in a long line emerging from blackness. Maladek. Merrok…. The molecular structure of one giving way to the next…. Procal Dukat. Tolan. Floating into focus, receding back into the darkness. I shook my head, trying to stop the flow. The Hebitian mask. My face. I grabbed my “face” and screamed into it. The flow stopped. The molecules rushed together and instantly formed Barkan Lokar’s death mask.

I think maybe something came a tiny little bit completely untethered in his head in a way it’s been threatening to for a long time in this moment. It may just be my imagination tho who’s to say

- “Elim Garak. How the mighty have fallen. Welcome to Terok Nor.”

“Oh, I try to visit even our humblest outposts, Dukat.”

“This is going to be more than a visit, trust me. You’ll soon wish that the execution had not been commuted.”

a) ah garak/dukat sniping my old friend b) It seems Tain never spoke to him in that whole process, so that time in the park was probably the last time before ‘Improbable Cause’?. I’m only surprised he didn’t give Dukat the neutral face of displeasure to convey to Garak second hand honestly 

- “I’m sure you gave him a more ennobling position,” I said.

“He was executed,” the toady replied.

“A promotion of sorts,” I muttered. “Certainly in this place.”

The passionate enduring Garak/Terok Nor hateship off to an immediate and roaring start

- Real ‘he gave them the heebie jeebies. He had nothing else left to give’ vibes on garak in this part of his life 

- He arched his brows in a manner that told me he’d worked long and hard in front of a mirror.

There’s always time to appreciate some good Dukat dunking

“Your life means nothing to me. Just as my father’s meant nothing to you.”

“I beg your pardon? Do I know your father?” Dukat made a move to grab me and immediately stopped himself. I was impressed by his self-control; I knew how much energy fueled his hatred.

“No offense,” I went on, further testing his control. “Of course, Procal Dukat was a famous military figure. We all mourned his passing. But I never had the pleasure personally….”

At his most miserable, but also his funniest. It IS really interesting that his humor only really reaches its current state here, when he’s lost Palandine and everything else in his life. It’s almost like the only remaining way to be close to her. 

No, I decided that I was not going to sacrifice myself to Dukat’s desire for revenge. I would do this work; I would do it so well as to become indispensable to the station… and I would survive. I refused to be buried alive in this humiliation.

‘Sort of suicidal: yes; willing to go down in history as one of Dukat’s Ws… fuck no’

- I pick up their garments and mend them flawlessly. When they complain that the price is steep (because I’m treated like a slave doesn’t mean I’m going to start undervaluing my work), I just give them the smile—the smile she taught me.

Fdsahfasj hilarious. You go Garak you know your worth

- (About Pythas and Palandine) At this moment I am almost afraid to discover that they’d survived. A part of me has wanted to bury that part of my life. The defenses I set up to survive my exile are obviously still intact.

I am often joined on my walks by Dr. Parmak. He’s a charming conversationalist, with a first-rate mind. His perspectives are always provocative. He does, however, have a tendency to proselytize for Alon Ghemor and the “Reunion Project” (the name they’ve given their group to remind people of the principles that formed the original Union). Whenever we encounter other pedestrians along our route, Parmak engages them and attempts to win them over to the Reunion side. This often makes for spirited exchanges, and although I am subjected to the opinions of people who should be given a new brain, I rather enjoy this peripatetic politicking. It’s something I would never have done on my own. In some respects he is so much like you, Doctor. If I’ve found someone’s opinion insufferably boring, he’ll kindly but sternly lecture me on the value of tolerance.

The wistful longing of ‘in some respects he’s so much like you’. ‘Although i am subjected to the opinions of people who should be given a new brain’. ‘Charming conversationalist’, is he. Garak you are a nonsense person and I adore you 

One day I asked him how he had been brought to Enabran Tain’s attention. He never struck me as being a dangerous radical. It turns out that he was Tain’s personal physician, and that the great man had him interrogated because, the Doctor assumed, “he was concerned that I was in an ideal position to assassinate him.”

“I think he was more threatened by the fact that you were intimate with his weaknesses,” I pointed out.

“Well, certainly his physical infirmities,” he admitted.

“Which are also a man’s weaknesses,” I reminded him.

“The paranoia, the secrets, the power he held….” The doctor shook his head. “He must have been a difficult man to work for.” I smiled at his understated tact.

“He once tried to have me killed,” I said.

“Really? What did you do, Elim?”

“I survived.” The Doctor gave me a confused look.

“Survived … what?” he asked.

“Working for my father,” I replied. The Doctor stopped and just looked at me. His former fear of my eyes was long gone.

“A father who would murder his own son?” The idea horrified him. We were in the Barvonok Sector, where the tall structures of business and finance once dominated. “Oh, my dear Elim,” he said, this time with an empathy that stripped me of any illusions I had about Enabran Tain as a father. Surrounded by the piles of debris, oppressed by the low leaden sky, I finally began to surrender to the loneliness and loss that has preyed upon my dreams ever since I can remember. Even nothing is better than the ideas that have brought us here.

Go on without me I’ll be over here crying my eyes out 

- I wonder if Limor Prang was one of the people killed in Tain’s Obsidian Order purge in Improbable Cause. If he  was still alive that seems pretty likely huh. Well. RIP terrifying team mom I guess.  

- Garak got his business up and running for real through a deal with Quark! Puts some of their interactions into perspective haha

I don’t do well with the kind of emotional exchanges humans seem to engage in regularly, and I have little sympathy for those who confuse the responsibilities of family with their duty to the state; but I confess that I am deeply moved by this woman’s plight.

Well it’s good the guy you have a thing for was raised British then he’ll probably feel pretty much the same way you’re perfect for each other

At one point she looked at me and asked me to hold her. I did. As I tentatively put my arms around her, I was so afraid of her need that I tried to keep her body at a distance. She would have none of it. She collapsed against me, and the sobs that convulsed and rolled through her body found correspondence in mine. I bit my tongue until I could taste blood in the effort not to surrender. Gratefully, the door to the Promenade was closed.

He keeps claiming he doesn’t care for the human tendency towards displays of emotionality even as we see it draw him in like a stupid horny sentimental moth to the flame repeatedly. The lizard doth protest too much methinks

- Unless I have business I rarely go to Quark’s; I have little tolerance for noise and stupidity. So when he saw me he assumed that I had another proposition, and I observed him shift into his engage mode.

Fun to see how this changes over the years, then! By the ca. Season 7 part of the book he has a few regular tables and everything. Also isn’t it so sweet that his kind of snotty attitude about this has not changed at all since Bamarren haha <3

- “The dead are dead. Those of us left—who believe in the ideals that have guided our race for millennia—are faced with the threat of utter annihilation by the very disease that has brought us to this sad place. Federation ideas will finish the work the Dominion began.”

Disease/contagion imagery (This is Legate Parn speaking, and he’s basically espousing the same view as Dukat Sr. As far as he’s concerned the call is not and never has been coming from inside the house thank you ever so much lol)

On the other side of Madred was Nal Dejar, a sharp-faced, saturnine woman who had been a member of my last cell at the Order. She once came to Deep Space 9 on an assignment with two scientists, and refused to make any contact with me. Judging from her averted look, she was still refusing. Next to her was a man with a severely disfigured face that was still recovering from what appeared to be burns. One eye was completely covered, and I was careful not to be rude in my inspection.

OH so it’s the lady who came along with Gilora and Ulani! The one who does not care for foreign food 

Gul Ocett was persuasive in her quiet and reasoned strength. Indeed, the irony, Doctor, is that she was espousing the very argument I had made to you any number of times. Even now there was a part of me that accepted the logic of her argument, especially when coming from someone who was neither a fool nor an opportunist.

While you were stealth mentoring Julian in having enough spysmarts not go and get his beautiful twink ass killed at the first opportunity he was stealth mentoring you in the political and ideological underpinnings of democracy and the possibility of being loved BITCH!!!!

I simply smiled at him, genuinely amused by his amateur attempts to discredit me. I was surprised by my responses. I was here to play the role of double agent, and I found that as the meeting went on I didn’t have the energy for the requisite guile and misdirection.

Fdkjfhdsa ‘Aw. That’s cute’. He just doesn’t have it in him to work up the energy for cloak and dagger bullshit and it’s so good and so funny 

And then a strange sensation went through me, Doctor. I looked at the faces of these people. Here we are, I thought, sitting in the basement of a ruined civilization and conducting business as if nothing significant had changed. The enemies were still the same, somewhere “out there,” plotting how to “destroy our character” and colonize us with their political system. And we were down in the basement with our own plots and shifting alliances, tenaciously holding on to the very ideas that had brought us here. But what ideas, Doctor? There’s nothing left. Only fantasies of power. These faces with their masks. With the ironic exception of the disfigured face, the masks hadn’t changed. They reflected the usual range of hidden agendas, each competing for dominance and ascendancy with an energy commensurate to the amount of fear and self-loathing that fueled and motivated that person. I started to laugh.

Amazing showstopping revolutionary good for you Garak

It was him, Doctor. It was Pythas.

EIGHT MY BELOVED WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

“Thank you, Gul Madred, but I can find my way out.” I bowed to the company, and turned my back on them.

I continue to be so proud of him I have no words. And also this is why I don’t like Castellan Garak as a concept AT ALL. Leave him alone to his orchids and sewing and doctor fucking he’s been through enough he doesn’t need that in his life anymore he can do other things to help. Parmak and Julian would stage an intervention. 

- Oh my GOD the cardassians literally just left terok nor without him overnight like Sid’s family in Ice Age fhdskjafh

Garak has been combining the wire AND being a barely functional alcoholic all this time. So at any given time in the first two season the chances that he is not only high but also profoundly drunk are overwhelmingly likely. This explains a lot.  

Rom had a sensitivity, almost a delicacy that was totally lacking in his brother. Was there such a thing as a typical Ferengi? Most people judged him to be simple, as if simplicity was somehow a substandard quality.

Aw. Also maybe some hints as to his reconciliation with Tolan’s memory. 

“Well, Rom, the trousers and tunic fit quite well, don’t you think?” I pulled the tunic down at the back. “Don’t wear it so far up on the neck; it ruins the line. And I’d be grateful if you’d tell any interested parties that indeed I’m still here and very much open for business.”

“Oh, yes … yes! And I like….” Rom made a broad, awkward gesture toward his new ensemble. I thanked him, and we walked out onto the Promenade, as if it were just another business day. We said goodbye, and I watched him march proudly through the ragged celebrants. I had a fondness for him. It was an odd relief, especially at this moment, to converse with someone who literally meant everything he said. 

T________________________T surprise most wholesome dynamic continues to wreck me. 

He stood for a moment, studying me, trying to divine why I had not been allowed to join the withdrawal. Unlike the others who assumed that because I was a Cardassian I had a choice, Odo knew that I’d been abandoned.

“Was there any damage or theft?” he asked.

“No,” I answered. I knew little about Constable Odo, but I was confident that he would never ask me questions that went beyond his function as security chief. He kept his distance and carried himself like someone who understood exile.

Odo appreciation moment as this is his last appearance in the book. Here’s to the small part of the fascist hivemind that harnessed those impulses towards the aim of becoming the world’s best and beigest mall cop. Unproblematic? No. But sometimes you simply love a good problem. 

The fact that the narrative of this section ends right before Garak meets Julian. Probably a matter of weeks, max. You big sentimental sap lmao

- Parmak, Ghemor, and I stood silently among the formations, inspecting the results of our work in the first light.“I mean no disrespect, Elim,” the Doctor said, “but the memorial looks even better.” I nodded in agreement.

“Please, Doctor,” I replied. “ ‘Restoration’ is fine for artifacts and museum pieces. When it comes to building a new community, I think what we did tonight is more to the point.”

“And we did it without murdering each other,” Ghemor added.

“How un-Cardassian of us,” I observed.

This all rules btw . Restoration is fine for artifacts and museum pieces it’s not for things that are alive. Gardener vs. architect/collector, Tolan vs. Tain. 

Alon said: “I think we should get some rest before the competition begins. We’ve done what we can.” It was a wise suggestion, but each of us knew that we were taking a step into the unknown, and sleep at this point was not really a choice. We had done what we could, and probably it was best if each of us retired to the privacy of his own thoughts. We said our goodnights, and as I watched them leave I felt an enormous gratitude that I had been given the opportunity to work with these men. Once again in my life I felt that I had been resurrected from the dead.

Nodding and crying gif. Yeah. Yeah… you’ve done all you could and no one could ask anything more of you. 

- “You know, Elim, I’m neither a soldier nor a politician. I’m a doctor.”

“I do know that. I also know that we’ve been betrayed by our previous leaders. Our only hope is that men like yourself can offer an alternative.”

“But you have the expertise that can….”

“Doctor, I have the expertise that comes from survival and compromise. There’s already plenty of that on the other side … and it’s not an alternative that will create a new and lasting union.”

“No, I suppose you’re right,” he conceded.

“You’re a doctor, yes, and that’s your strength. I’ve learned something about your profession over the past several years. Don’t think like a politician. Think of the planet as a patient barely hanging on to life. Think like a doctor. How would you save this planet?” He considered what I’d said in his careful manner.

Just as it is vital for a person like Garak to have a little Julian Bashir who lives in his head, it’s probably also good for the Bashirs and Parmaks of the world to develop a little Garak who lives in their heads to go ‘yeah that sounds real nice in theory but now imagine that there are in fact bad people in this world (I should know) who’ll interact with that theory and then act accordingly’ . Garak realizing where he belongs in this whole process tho… 

“Ah, Doctor,” I stopped him. “You can’t go to your meeting like that.”

“Like what?” he asked with a puzzled look. Without explaining, I helped him out of his worn outer coat and showed him a ragged tear in the fabric. Despite his protests, I made him sit down and wait while I gathered my sewing kit and repaired the tear.

“Appearances are very important to these people. You can’t let them think you’re oblivious to details,” I said, as I reunited the torn and separated threads.

The Mila fussing-as-a-love language of it all…

- (About Pythas) The thought occurred to me that perhaps I should include him in a chant for the dead.

DAMN but also YEAH

- I moved to the constructed formation that stood in the space formerly occupied by Tain’s study and almost directly above where Mila’s body had been sadly abandoned in the basement. When I was a boy, I had unending dreams that centered around the memorials of Tarlak. As I lay on my pallet in the basement of Tain’s house, I would plan the scenario that would play out when Tolan took me with him to Tarlak. It would always involve me as the hero paying homage to a comrade fallen in a battle where we had both distinguished ourselves. I would tell the gathered assembly of notables every detail of the battle; people would weep, cheer, listen in stunned amazement as I explained how we had saved the Union from certain destruction. When I had finished, Mila and Tolan would escort me through the adoring crowd. What a terrible irony, Doctor, that those forbidding, impersonal memorials to the heroes of the Cardassian Union should ultimately become transformed into these ragged formations on the grounds of my childhood home … and that I would sit here, a middle-aged man, trying to mourn a fallen comrade who was still standing but barely recognizable. And yet, the irony of a Cardassia reborn with the help of a memorial built from the remains of Tain’s home didn’t escape me either.

Taking immense psychic damage with every word. When do you stop wanting your mom and dad to come pick you up and take you home, even when they’re both dead and kind of not your parents anymore in two different ways even before that? Never, probably 

- “What changed your mind?”

“Your friends, Elim. Very impressive people … and persuasive.”

“What had you expected?” I asked.

“The usual amateurs who never understood what was at stake … the hard choices that had to be made,” [Pythas] explained. “To be honest, I had thought your attachment to this Reunion Project was….”

“Sentimental,” I finished. He smiled knowingly at the reference.

CACKLING. All but openly saying ‘yeah I thought it’s was because you’re fucking the doctor and I know exactly what a god-awful simp you are’ fhskdjafhaskjdh

“As I listened to him speak of the responsibility that we had as survivors to the life that remained, I also realized how bitter and hardened I had become.” He stopped and looked back to Nal Dejar, as if he were making sure she was still there. She met his eyes with a communication I couldn’t decipher, and he nodded. “Nal nursed me back to where I could function … part of me wished she hadn’t. Until your doctor spoke about healing … on every level. It’s what the body wants, he told us … unless we choose otherwise.” Pythas sat with his head bowed for a long moment. “I’d become very bitter, Elim.” I sat on a rock across from him and gently put my hand on his. What was it about this place, I wondered.

Hmngh. ‘I’d become very bitter, Elim’. No matter what choices they made along the way, where they fucked up or where they did everything right, they both ended up in basically the same place, embittered and broken, until someone touched their life with kindness. Nal is Pythas’ Julian Bashir. Coming back to life not as an act of will but because there’s someone waiting for you there saying ‘I’ll help you through it’. 

“Do you know where Palandine is?” I asked. He just looked at me. “Is she still alive?”

In the darkness, it was difficult to read the expression in his one good eye. The silence that followed my question was broken only by his rasping breath. Behind her mask of disinterest Nal Dejar was studying me carefully. Even when she was a probe I was impressed by the strength of her focus. Pythas was fortunate to have her care and devotion.

I think Pythas and Nal Dejar’s whole deal could make for a really interesting story all on its own. Presumably they’ve known or at least known about each other for a long time now, since Garak has seen Nal around even though they’ve never worked together closely 

- Just enough light for lovers; just enough light to begin he says, only to open the next chapter/epilogue with ‘My dear Doctor’ and explaining how he finally decided to send the letter. Healing on every level? Maybe? If we’re real lucky??? 

- My dear Doctor:

Again, forgive my further tardiness in sending this—I don’t even know what to call it. Memoirs of a Cardassian tailor? I suppose that’s as accurate a description as any. You see, Doctor, I seriously debated whether or not I should send this to you. As I went over it I wondered who this mawkish and self-serving person was. Grow up! I wanted to tell him. Get on with your life.

Well, I am; and sending this to you is going to further that cause. As I said, I’m an unfinished man reassembling the pieces of a broken world, and I have asked you to be a witness because you would never judge me as harshly as I judge myself. You would never deny me the opportunity of a second chance.

I feel like those last two sentences are the most important ones in this whole book — it’s what all the rest of it is built on, what made any of it possible. And also it will haunt me for the rest of my days but like in a good life-affirming way lol

His playful grousing about ugh your vaunted democracy *eyeroll*  <3<3<3<3 come down to cardassia so you can have spirited debates turned makeout sessions/foreplay about it already julian please he’s setting you up for so many slam dunks here

I live with my orchids, which have unified and softened the increasingly popular grounds of my home. Their beguiling blooms, and the presence of children who come to play among the structures (as I did in Tarlak), help to dispel the somber mood that initially hung like those clouds of dust over our world. The sounds of their voices as they play function as a music that never fails to lighten my work. The children call it the “tailor’s grounds,” and the name has caught on. Yes, Doctor, I continue to work at my “new” profession. As you can imagine, there’s a good deal of mending to be done.

TAIN’S HOUSE TURNED INTO JUST ‘THE TAILOR’S GROUNDS’ BY THE VOICES OF PLAYING CHILDREN Y_____Y I hope enabran ‘let history be my judge’ tain gets forgotten for anything but his massive fuckup and that garak works some magic with what little fabric he has at his disposal to make the neighbourhood kids like. Stuffed toys he sews clothes for and he’s known as the person to go to when one is damaged so he can patch it back up good as new  while teary little faces watch intently and then brighten. Julian seriously pretends to be his medical consultant as they perform teddy bear operations, what with his extensive expertise in the field and excellent bedside manner. No arm is too amputated to be reattached and we can always find a good button to replace Mr. Tinny’s missing eye in fact he’ll see even better now. I have such hopes for them I have such dreams 

 I have expanded my shed in the never-ending quest to find my place. I feel that I’m getting closer, Doctor, especially as I continue to refine the structures. One, which began as a memorial to Tolan, has a crude but effective representation of the winged creature from the Hebitian sun disc—turned toward the radiating sun, reaching, striving, while the sun-fed filaments stream down from the body and connect with the bodies of people standing on a globe and looking up to the creature for this divine connection…. I’ve attached the recitation mask he gave me to the creature’s face, and somehow it has become my personal totem. I hope that someday you’ll have the opportunity to see it. Nothing would please me more. You’re always welcome, Doctor.

You are always welcome, Doctor is one of those ‘you could slap that on my gravestone and I’d be happy about it’ lines. What a ride huh 

Aside from anything else about this book (I think we can safely let this absolute monster of a three part reaction post be testament to my enjoyment and admiration right I hope I have made no secret of it lol) I want to congratulate Andrew Robinson for getting a novel-length character study written in first person (my beloved) published — as I understand it that’s normally a pretty hard sell in the publishing industry haha he was living the dream I one day fervently hope to as well and the results rule

#a stitch in time #asit #garashir #elim garak #star trek #star trek ds9 #ds9 #julian bashir #The great ASIT first read adventure #ds9 meta #and there we go! now to think about the little julian bashir that lives in garak's head forever probably

[kon4ka]

Challenge: Drawing D&D classes - Topic 12 - Monk 2

🌊 Monk of the path of the Four Elements - Astra 🌊

Race: Human Alignment: Lawful good Background: Hermit.

📘 Backstory: Since childhood, Astra has never been truly happy with life. As a child, she was a very weak child, so her body prevented her from living. Whatever she does, wherever she is, she did not feel calm, safe. And from childhood she was drawn to water in every possible way. She spent so much time by the river in her village that she was nicknamed "the water one." This would have continued if their village had not turned out to be the epicenter of a showdown between two kingdoms and it was simply burned, considering that the residents were sheltering the enemy. The river saved her. When the wooden village was blazing like a torch, Astra jumped into the water and tried to swim across the river, but her strength was clearly not enough. And when she began to drown, someone pulled her by the hand onto a log… But she was alone… She was carried into the city down the river. She was found by a fisherman while collecting his nets. He brought the girl home, she was unconscious.

The fisherman's wife and her children left Astra, she came to her senses and, in order to repay, helped the father of the family with fishing. But first of all, she tried to return upstream, hoping for no one knows what. But there was only ashes and clay skeletons of houses. She returned to the fisherman's family with nothing, but from then on her life turned into a nightmare. At night, dreams haunted her, and during the day she herself was like a ghost, filled with longing for unknown reasons. Everything changed after she decided to work as a guide and did not lead one group of adventurers to a nearby dungeon. They traveled for several days and one of the adventurers at an evening halt saw this “irrepressible melancholy” in Astra, which greatly frightened her. But he said that if she wanted to get rid of this, then after the dungeon, he would return to the city and take her to where she would be helped. And so it happened. The adventurer monk on the way back brought her to the temple of the elementals and left her there. And only there did she learn that her weak body was unable to withstand her predisposition to spiritual practices, which is why she felt so bad all this time and why she was so drawn to water. Astra began to learn and gradually she was able to balance her stamina and her abilities.

✒ Character: A very caring girl, she enjoys helping others and tries to be useful even if she herself is feeling bad. She can explode with anger, but this is rare and for this it takes a long time to bring her up. No matter who you are surrounded by, still lonely in some ways, but it’s not the oppressive loneliness and melancholy that I had in my youth. This loneliness helps her see things differently. Astra knows how to take care of others and knows how to do it.

🌀 Skills: Swims like she breathes, her control over water is excellent, other elements are at an average level, except fire, due to injury, she found it difficult to use, so she deliberately avoided techniques involving it. He is not very good with weapons, using water instead, or, at worst, his own fists.

✨ Features: She is generally not susceptible to colds and has a higher freezing threshold than others. She always has water with her. She dances well. Her magic is not just fighting techniques, but her way of living and expressing herself.

RU

🌊 Монах пути Четырёх стихий - Астра 🌊

Раса: Человек Мировоззрение: Законопослушно доброе Предыстория: Отшельник.

📘 Предыстория: С самого детства Астра никогда не была по настоящему довольна жизнью. В детстве она была очень слабым ребёнком, поэтому её тело мешало ей жить. Чем бы она не занималась, где бы не находилась, она не чувствовала себя спокойно, в безопасности. И с самого детства её тянуло к воде всеми возможными способами. Она так много времени проводила у реки в своей деревне, что её прозвали "водяной". Так бы и продолжалось, если бы их деревня не оказалась эпицентром разборок двух королевств и её просто сожгли, посчитав что жители укрывают врага. Река спасла её. Когда деревянная деревня полыхала словно факел, Астра прыгнула в воду и попыталась переплыть реку, но её сил явно не хватало. И когда она уже начала тонуть, кто-то вытянул её за руку на бревно… Но она была одна… Её вынесло в город вниз по реке. Её нашел рыбак, собирая сети. Он принёс девочку домой, она была без сознания. Жена рыбака и её дети выходили Астру, она пришла в себя и чтобы отплатить, помогала с рыбалкой отцу семейства. Но первым делом она попыталась вернуться вверх по течению, неизвестно на что надеясь. Но там было лишь пепелище и глиняные остовы домов. Ни с чем она вернулась к семье рыбака, но с того времени её жизнь превратилась в кошмар. Ночью ей не давали покоя сны, а днём она сама была словно приведение, преисполнена тоски неизвестно по чему. Всё изменилось после того как она решила подработать проводником и не провела одну группу преключенцев к подземелью неподалёку. Они добирались несколько дней и один из авантюристов на вечернем привале разглядел в Астре эту "неуёмную тоску" чем очень напугал её. Но он сказал, что если она хочет избавиться от этого, то после подземелья, он вернется в город и проводит её туда, где ей помогут. Так и случилось. Авантюрист монах на обратном пути привёл её в храм стихийников и оставил там. И только там узнала, что её слабое тело не в силах выдержать её предрасположенность к духовным практикам, поэтому ей было так плохо всё это время и поэтому её так тянуло к воде. Астра начала учиться и постепенно она смогла сбалансировать свою выносливость и свои способности.

✒ Характер: Очень заботливая девушка, испытывает удовольствие от помощи другим и старается приносить пользу даже если ей самой плохо. Она может взорваться гневом, но это редкость и для этого её нужно долго доводить. Кем бы ни была окружена, всё ещё одинока в каком-то смысле, но это не то гнетущее одиночество и тоска, что были в юности. Это одиночество помогает ей смотреть на вещи иначе. Астра умеет заботится о других и умеет это делать.

�� Навыки: Плавает как дышит, её контроль над водой превосходен, другие стихии на среднем уровне, кроме огня, из-за травмы, ей сложно им пользоваться, так что она сознательно избегала техник с ним связанных. Не очень хорошо владеет оружием, используя воду вместо него, ну или собственные кулаки на худой конец.

✨ Особенности: Вообще не подвержена простуде и у неё выше порог замерзания чем у прочих. Вода при ней всегда. Хорошо танцует. Её магия это не просто техники боя а её способ жить и самовыражаться.

#baldurs gate tav #bg3 tav #artwork #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate #dnd #dnd art #dnd character #Monk tav #dnd Monk #dungeons and dragons #dnd5e #dungeons and dragons character #dnd oc #my art #art challenge #art #character design #characterdesign #Monk