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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 5 months

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Clownfall: Endgame - Hello December

I am late writing and posting this, because it's nearly the end of term and I am mega busy (I have leave in two days and I am counting the hours...) BUT some stuff happened last week so let's dig in!

Also quick note before we do: I would like to politely request that you stop tagging this with "England" or "English politics". This is about British politics, not just England, and I am not English. Please do not erase me it takes SO LONG to write these thank you all and goodnight anyway ON WITH THE SHOW

Saturday, 25 November

12.01am

We begin our tale with Oliver Wright of the Times, who reports that … no hang on, wait, I've fucked it, okay. To understand this story, you first need to understand Simon Case.

Simon Case is a civil servant, and current Cabinet Secretary and head of UK Civil Service

He was the highest ranking public official implicated in the Partygate scandal, though he didn’t resign nor was he fined

In the Telegraph’s published WhatsApp messages from Partygate in which Tories all chatted to each other (seriously HOW do those keep getting leaked), Case made fun of holidaymakers stuck in hotel rooms by Covid regulations

In the same messages he also described some opposition to Covid restrictions as “pure Conservative ideology”, which is. An Own Goal

He also described BlowJo as a “nationally distrusted figure” whose isolation rules the public were unlikely to follow, which is true but also the Quiet Part

This information is from Wikipedia, which I’m openly admitting here, so my esteemed colleague hbomberguy can stand down.

Why am I mentioning him! Well. Case was supposed to give evidence to the Covid inquiry in October this year, but didn’t because of medical leave (ironically). In November, he still wasn’t back (should have isolated better, eh, Si), and the inquiry was given private medical information relating to Case (presumably evidence that he’s not just faking it so he doesn't have to be shouted at by angry judges and MPs and that).

So! On Saturday the 25th, eighteen and a half hours before Beep the Meep’s spectacular TV debut, Oliver Wright of the Times reports that Simon Case – uh, before his medical leave - advised Prime Minister Rishi Sunak that he should authorise pre-election talks between the civil service and Labour. Sunak - I suspect obviously - ignored this suggestion, in case it signalled that an election is now imminent.

According to Wright, it’s now questionable whether Case will ever return to his role.

Shame.

Monday, 27 November

2.44pm

House of Commons time! Let's see what our elected representatives are up to.

Tory MP Jill Mortimer says international treaties written 70 years ago "are not fit for purpose" to tackle illegal immigration, so we need to return to the "Deport the browns to Rwanda" plan. Ugh.

2.50pm

The following was reported by Matt Dathan of the Times, so CALL OFF YOUR DOGS hbomberguy.

James Cleverly – the newest Home Secretary, chappie who described another MPs constituency as a shithole in the House of Commons in his second week on the job – says the Rwanda policy isn’t the “be all and end all”.

Robert Jenrick – the Minister of State for Immigration – says the policy is an "extremely important component" of the government's small boats policy.

So! James Cleverly and Robert Jenrick disagree on this matter! Exciting! Hey, Tumblrs, just for fun...

Let’s remember those two names.

2.58pm

Robert Jenrick says boat crossings have been reduced by more than a third in the last year, but that numbers are still unacceptably high.

FUN SELF-STUDY ACTIVITY: Take a moment to form an opinion of Robert Jenrick! It’ll be worth it.

Here is some information to get you started: Jenrick this year ordered some lovely murals of cartoon characters (Mickey Mouse, Tom and Jerry, etc) to be painted over at a children’s asylum centre in Kent. His explicit reason is because he thought they were "too welcoming" for lone refugee children arriving in the UK, and such children should not feel welcome here.

Have you formed your opinion yet? Then I'll continue.

8.13pm

Rishi Sunak cancels a meeting with the Greek Prime Minister in a row over the Elgin Marbles.

Uh, there's a lot going on here - this is about the stolen marble frescoes that should be in the Parthenon in Athens, that gross British thief Lord Elgin stole decades ago and plonked into the British Museum. Greece has been asking for them back ever since, but a small handful of old white men who are in charge of the British Museum don't want to give them back and keep stating that Greece wouldn't look after them properly, which is a hell of a claim given that Elgin literally broke one when he nicked them, and also, he fucking stole them. Anyway, it turns out to the surprise of no one that Sunak also doesn't think we should give them back, and so when the matter was raised in an Anglo-Greek meeting recently Sunak literally walked out of it, even though the meeting was actually about something else.

So HERE HE IS refusing to do any diplomacy with Greece now i.e. his actual fucking job.

This is a big deal for the immigration-obsessed though! According to a Labour source, Greece is an essential ally for any agreement on illegal migration.

And even the Prime Minister’s supporters think he’s got this one wrong.

Wednesday, 29 November

Prime Minister’s Questions!

This is the (televised) point in the week where the PM has to appear in the Commons and be grilled by anyone who wants to put the boot in about anything at all. Keir Starmer decides today is the day to do some actual opposition, pushes Sunak on several fronts, and pretty much everyone reckons this is Starmer’s best ever performance at PMQs. People especially enjoy Starmer calling Rishi the “man with the reverse Midas touch”.

This is not, strictly speaking, actually funny. But it's political humour, which is like office humour. It doesn't actually have to be.

12.22pm

A former cabinet member tells the press that the Greek government are furious at Sunak’s snub. Uh oh!

Thursday, 30 November

Disgraced former Secretary of State for Health and all round human 1950s meat blancmange Matt Hancock talks to the Covid inquiry today. Specifically, to explain why he, the then-Secretary of State for Health, led the government so badly in the pandemic that we developed the second highest death rate in the world. To hear him tell it, he was an underdog hero doing his best to fight a toxic culture at Whitehall to get the pandemic handled responsibly.

The only problem with this is that it is contradicted by everyone else’s accounts.

He is called a “proven liar” who was “unfit for the job” by proven liar and unfit for his job Dominic Cummings. Former civil servant Helen MacNamara says Hancock displayed “nuclear levels” of overconfidence and said lots of things that later turned out to be untrue. Sadly for HandCock, he said these things to cameras that were recording him onto the telly, and so we do actually know.

Monday, 4 December

Keir Starmer talked about the economy today. He won’t rule out cutting public services, and it looks like he’s trying to tell disenfranchised Tory voters to jump ship to Labour.

Hope it’s a bluff! Very depressing if he’s serious. This is nowhere near as much fun as Tories being humiliated.

21.47pm

GOOD NEWS EVERYONE!

(This is from the Mirror, you can’t destory me on your YouTube.)

Labour MP Diana Johnson proposes an amendment to the Victims and Prisoners Bill to compensate thousands of patients infected with HIV and hepatitis C through contaminated blood products in the 70s and 80s, to the tune of billions of pounds.

And it WON! Narrowly – 246 votes to 242. A huge deal, because that includes 23 Tory backbenchers. That is very bad for Rishi Sunak. He he he.

Tory MP Edward Argar had tried to sort this in adance, by saying the government would provide their own similar amendment to the bill. Basically, he realised this was a controversial bill for the party, and wanted to present a version that could be a Tory victory rather than a Labour victory and Tory humiliation.

Didn’t work.

And neither did a THREE LINE WHIP for Tory MPs to vote against the Labour plan?!?? YES KIDS YOU READ THAT RIGHT Sunak didn't want people infected with HIV and hepatitis C through contaminated blood products in the 70s and 80s to receive compensation in case it made him look bad, so he imposed a three line whip to force Tories to vote against it.

And 23 of them rebelled.

And now he looks even worse.

Lol.

Tuesday, 5 December

Have you done your homework, Tumblrs? Have you remembered those names? Have you formed an opinion?

7.38am

Home Office minister and children's cartoon hater Robert Jenrick is interviewed on Sky News. It’s ugly stuff. He refers to small boats “[breaking] in” to the UK. He insists asylum seekers WILL start being deported to Rwanda before the next General Election. And generally does big talk about cutting immigration.

What a hero.

1.27pm

James Cleverly is in Rwandan capital Kigali, as the UK signs a new treaty designed to help score the Supreme Court’s approval for the Rwanda plan.

1.40pm

So!

Cleverly’s doing pretty much what he said he’d do. He’s trying to legislate to make the Rwanda plan safer, rather than try to disapply human rights treaties. This, of course, is the Sensible Plan, if your plan is still to get people killed, but you want it to actually succeed.

But former Home Secretary Cruella Braverman is driving a load of Tories to push to disapply human rights obligations – and she’s joined in this by Robert Jenrick!!!!

That’s RIGHT! Hope you remembered his name, because now he’s a VILLAIN! Or, well, more of one, and in a more immediate way. After disagreeing with Cleverly in the commons on 27 November, he’s joined Team Suella. Tonight he’ll be part of a meeting between three different right-wing groupings...

1.46pm

The new treaty guarantees that, if these plans go ahead, asylum seekers won’t be returned to countries where their lives or freedom are threatened, and creates a requirement for an independent monitoring committee.

This treaty would be great if we lived in a world where the Supreme Court trusted the Rwandan government to honour treaty obligations. But we live in the world where NOT having this trust was part of the reason the Supreme Court ruled the plans unlawful.

Even if this wasn’t the case, we still need new legislation, and that’ll be way more controversial than this new treaty. The legislation was said to be ready by Thursday, which is a very short turnaround that only a lunatic would believe, but in a SHOCK DISAPPOINTING U-TURN the government now refuses to commit to this.

In any case...

This is causing cracks in the Tory party.

10.33pm

The Parliament's Christmas tree lights are turned on!

It goes as well as anything else in Parliament:

youtube

A visual representation of the Tory Party schism.

Wednesday, 6 December

8.21am

Boris Johnson arrives at the covid inquiry. He will be questioned for two days.

He he he

10.26am

Johnson is asked why around 5,000 WhatsApp messages were lost on his phone from January to June 2020.

Steffan made this brilliant meme. Please do not grass me up to hbomberman.

11.33am

It’s clear by now that Johnson wasn’t alert to the danger of covid by February 2020. Johnson says it wasn’t declared a pandemic by WTO yet, and he wasn’t asked about it in PMQs. Gosh! What a good point, maybe!

Until the KC points out a troubling fact: “You were the Prime Minister.”

Ah. Yes. PMQs are irrelevant, you see – the Prime Minister is allowed information that the opposition aren’t.

And, indeed, he probably would have had, if he'd actually attended the five Cobra meetings about it that would have briefed him on it just as the virus was being discovered.

12.49pm

2.24pm

I’m skipping most of this stuff, since it’s normal lies and non-specific apologies from BJ.

But this one’s interesting. Matt HandCock claimed he told Johnson on 13 March to call a lockdown. There’s no written evidence of this happening. Johnson outright contradicts it.

Lol

5.43pm

Cruella Braverman rejects Sunak’s Rwanda bill. It fails the five tests she claimed his bill would need to pass.

These are tests she made up and published in a newspaper, I should stress, like they don't exist and she is not an authority. This is a bit like if I marched into your house, dear reader, and went "You are not allowed to celebrate the holidays this year because I personally said you have to pass my tests first and you haven't", and I'm pretty sure if I tried that you would drop me in a bin and laugh at me.

But, she has many supporters on the Tory right...

5.48pm

The Sun’s political correspondent says that if the Lords try to block emergency legislation, some Tory MPs reckon Sunak should call an election, fighting on Rwanda.

I desperately want this. I DESPERATELY want this. They’ll lose that election so badly. SO badly. God, likes charge reblogs cast.

6.53pm

The villain Robert Jenrick … RESIGNS!

Oh no! This is not good news if you’re the Prime Minister.

Fucking fantastic for the rest of us, though

7.26pm

Jenrick publishes his resignation letter on Twitter. It’s two pages long, claiming the PM’s Rwanda plan basically won’t work.

Jenrick’s not wrong about that, but I speak as someone who doesn’t want any version of the Rwanda plan – not the monstrous Sunak one, and certainly not the hypermonstrous Braverman one. Good. Thanks for confirming, Darth Bell-end.

8.31pm

I enjoyed this tweet.

8.52pm

Sunak writes back to Jenrick, claiming the new plan WILL work.

Which is not normally what happens?!? Normally they yell about their current madness in a letter, publish it on Twitter because no one else cares or will agree, and get roundly ignored. But, desperate times! Here, Sunak’s challenge is to try to win over the Tories who don’t believe in his ability to deliver the plan. It’s a big ask.

So what are we left with?

10.37pm

A senior figure on the Tory right is asked whether their side will kill Sunak’s bill.

And they’re not sure! If it’s the only offer on the table, it seems sensible to vote for it.

BUT the right wing of the Tories aren’t famously very sensible. They’ll probably try and add amendments at the very least, but it’s genuinely possible they’ll reject it out of spite, because they are LUNATICS. Or as a political move to weaken Sunak.

And that's what you missed in the Tory Civil War!

(Up to last week)

#politik #clownfall: endgame

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druidrot · 3 months

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so i was looking at the other parts of the ways to show emotion prompt list and part 3 has some great lists so i was hoping you could do “opening mouth slightly” pupils dilating” and “licking lips” with Gale from the how to show desire prompts 👀👀 no worries if not, congrats on the new blog!

thanks so much! and thanks for being my first requester! i’m happy to oblige. now i’m posting on mobile so i apologize if the formatting is wonky. with that being said, enjoy!

just a short little drabble, unsure of word count

pairing: gale dekarios x reader

rating: mature - more suggestive than anything else;)

he’s allowed to have fun at the tiefling party okay?? just let me have this. i get it’s canon divergent just shut up and let me be horny

It was here Gale felt his resolve crumble.

He prides himself on his self-control. In fact, he thinks he’s been a saint since he joined your adventuring party, since this painfully slow dance started between you both.

But he feels his patience waring thin. The tiefling party at the camp has no doubt been a success. He waited patiently as you did your rounds accepting their gifts and thanks so very graciously. He bid his time as you danced and sung and drank with everybody else, working your sweet charm on them.

He knows better, though. He thinks you are a different person under the cover of moonlight, here where you stare up at him with half-lidded, glassy eyes, lips pulled up in the sweetest little smile. You still hold your chalice of wine but your free hand has taken to his, twirling your fingers around his long, narrow digits. He feels his mouth drop open as you take a step closer, your pupils dilating until the beautiful color of your iris is all but hidden.

Around you, the little celebration rages on. In the distance, you can hear Karlach whooping over some drinking game the rowdier of the bunch had taken to playing. Just down the camp from you, Alfira sings a lovely ballad of lover’s lost, Lakrissa bobbing her head from a few paces down.

Gale should be excited about the festivities, elated with the things your party accomplished, ready to drink his troubles away for the night. Instead, he finds himself totally enamored with you., eyes locked on your every movement. He doesn’t know when you became so intoxicating to him, but in this moment, he finds he can’t complain.

“You look like the tressym got your tongue,” you whisper, sidling even closer. “My my, have you been brooding here because I’ve not paid you any attention? Or is saving poor helpless refugees not really your speed?”

You bump your nose against his as your tongue wets your lips. His eyes are immediately drawn to the action and he has to physically fight the urge to rush forward and kiss you. Instead, he grins roguishly at you.

“Quite the rotten little minx, you are,” he teases. taking a step back to cool his body. “Go enjoy yourself, darling. Besides, I’m sure there’s quite the line to get a dance with you tonight. You’ll have plenty of time to harass me later.”

“What if I want to harass you right now? What if I want to spend all night harassing you?”

Gale feels like he’s on fire. Before either of you can really process, he pulls you into a slow, heady kiss.

“You will be the death of me,” he pants between desperate kisses. “You will be the death of us all.”

He is quick to escalate, despite his warning and his lips grow frenetic as he chases your tongue with his, pushing into your mouth with a sense of urgency you didn’t think him capable of. He pulls your body close, impossibly so, and you can do nothing but moan as he continues to kiss you.

“The orb,” Gale tries, whimpering between consuming kisses.

“Don’t blow up on me,” is your only retort, happily losing yourself to the weight of his kiss.

#baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios x reader #gale x reader #gale dekarios #gale dekarios fanfiction #reader insert #bg3 x reader #gale fanfic #ask #rotwrites

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megs-98 · 2 months

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There's A First for Everything

Ahhh, very excited to post this piece. I wrote this for @bloodlessbhaalbabe for a valentine's day gift exchange :3 hope everyone loves as much as they do!

Summary: (Taking place post game and featuring @bloodlessbhaalbabe 's OC Elyra) After celebrating Love Day in Thaniel's Realm with the refugees and his love, Elyra, Halsin sets up a romantic evening for the two. He has something important to tell her before the fun starts.

Pairing: Halsin x f!OC (Elyra)

Tags: Explicit!, mutual pining, fluff, love confession, f! receiving oral, inappropriate actually quite appropriate use of entanglement spell, vaginal sex, lots of praise. I think that's it

Word count: 2.7k

You were sitting at the dining table in the home you share with Halsin, pressing dried rose petals in a mortar and pestle with beeswax, making one of your signature nail stains. You heard the front door open and close, signaling that your lover had returned home for the evening.

“Elyra, my love.” He said as he pressed a kiss into your temple. “How has the day treated you?”

“A lot better now that you’re here, handsome.” You winked at him as you told him about how you taught some self-defense classes to the tiefling children, and adults that wanted some lessons as you applied the bright red stain to your nails.

“So resilient, my heart. I surely do regret not being able to observe your teachings. You always look so beautiful when partaking in.. strenuous activities.”

Halsin took up residence behind your chair now, rubbing your shoulders as he smoked his pipe.

“I wished to ask if you were busy tomorrow evening, I have something special planned, so long as you wish to partake in the celebrations with me.”

You quirked an eyebrow as you leaned your head back to meet his eyes resting your head against his midsection. “You know I’m never too busy for you, big guy. What’s the occasion?”

“Well, tomorrow will be the celebration of Love Day. I have festivities planned for everyone during the day and something truly special planned for a woman of your caliber.”

“I think it’s safe to say how we spend every evening could be a celebration of Love Day.” You laugh as you take his pipe from him. “But yes, you can count me in, I’m very interested to see what you have planned for the special day.” Taking a puff from his pipe, Halsin leans down and kisses you on the forehead as he gives you a small chuckle.

You woke early with Halsin the next day to help him get decorations up. Simple garlands of leaves from the various trees in Thaniel’s Realm painted reds and pinks, some having little hearts painted on them, an obvious activity from the children yesterday. Moving along to help the other adults set up different activities for the day, you and Halsin kept stealing glances at each other whenever the opportunity presented itself.

“I see those looks. The Druid Halsin loves you very much, Elyra. I’m sure he has something beautiful planned for you tonight.” You heard an older tiefling woman say. You smiled as you nodded.

“I’m not sure what he has planned tonight, he won’t tell me. You know, it’s odd. Out of all my past lovers, I’ve never been with someone during an actual Love Day celebration. I’m not sure what to expect, but if I know Halsin, he won’t disappoint.”

“Well, there’s a first for everything, dear. I’m sure it will be everything you always imagined it would be.” She said as she gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

You enjoyed the day watching Halsin play with the young ones as they showed him their arts and crafts, even getting some from the children yourself, with Halsin coming over periodically to check in and give you a kiss. This wasn’t how you envisioned your holiday being spent, with dozens of refugees and orphans in lands that were once shrouded by a curse. Least of all with such an attractive and massive wood-elf by your side. Never did you think getting kidnapped and infected by Illithids would have resulted in one of the best things in your life, but here you were. Being showered with love by the people you helped save and the man you love most.

As the day came to a close, you helped adults serve dinner to the children, taking a plate of your own once they had all been served. You sat down on a log a bit farther away from everyone else, taking in the conversations and atmosphere. You heard a twig snap from behind you, causing your head to turn. Seeing Halsin coming out of the brush, you relaxed.

“Apologies, my heart. I did not mean to frighten you. I was just getting things set up for us later.”

You smiled as he sat down next to you, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You spoil me, you know that right?”

“Anything and everything for you, love.” He said as he grabbed your chin, making your eyes meet his. “Once dinner has been cleared, meet in the clearing by the lake. There I will show you just what I have in store for us tonight.” He pressed a kiss into your lips as you let out a small moan, trying to deepen the kiss.

Halsin laughed softly as he pulled away. “Patience, dear. You’ll have me soon enough. Enjoy your dinner and the company we keep. I’ll see you soon.”

He got up from the log and withdrew back to the woods as you watched him walk away. Admiring the way he filled out his pants, how his leg muscles contracted and relaxed as he took his steps. You began imagining what salacious activities your man had planned for you, causing your thighs to rub together as you felt your core start to ache. You shake those thoughts from your head as your attention is brought back to the others sitting near you. You impatiently finished your dinner, silently willing the others to finish up a bit faster. Once everyone was done and you had helped clean up, you ran back to your house to quickly change. Opting for an off the shoulder, slightly see through, white dress that stopped just below the knee. You opt to leave on your boots since you knew you’d be walking through tall grass to get to the clearing.

Making your way through the brush, you slowly saw lights come into view as you approached the clearing Halsin spoke of. You were quite privy to the location as this was where you and Halsin usually met each other if you were not in your shared bed. It was obvious Halsin had cast a dancing lights cantrip, as you saw him illuminated underneath the floating orbs, leaning against a tree whittling. Laid before him was a blanket with a bowl of plums, a jar of honey, and a bottle of wine with two cups.

Halsin smiles as he sees you walking up to him, putting his whittling project in his pocket.

“There you are, my heart. Still after all this time, my heart swells with ecstasy every time I see you. I hope you remember our first night together as fondly as I do.”

“Course I do. I made you so crazy for me you almost turned into the bear.” You say with a wink as you rub your hands against his chest. “Am I gonna see the bear tonight?”

You see a faint flash of gold roll over Halsin’s eyes as he gives you a hum of acknowledgement.

“While I do appreciate the enthusiasm, this is a night between just you and I in our most earthly forms.” You feel his hands slowly down your sides, how he was obviously continuing to memorize all of your curves. Firmly grabbing your hips as he brings his forehead against yours.

Having led you to the blanket, Halsin kneels down and motions for your foot as he takes off each of your boots then motions for you to sit down as he sits next to you. He reaches his hand into his pocket pulling out his project, placing it in your hand. You look down and see a palm sized wooden heart.

You hear Halsin clear his throat, looking at him and you can see just how nervous he still is after being together for months. You place the wooden heart in one of your boots, for safekeeping, and turn back to the wood-elf who you had fallen in love with. Facing him and taking his hands, you give him your full attention.

“Elyra, I have told you this once before, but I must tell you again. My heart does stir lightly, but it does when I am near you. Between the shadow curse and being archdruid, I was beginning to lose myself. But you, my heart, you lifted the fog and helped me see that there is more in life for me to explore. You being one of them. I love this life we have together and I love you most of all.”

“Aren’t you such a big, sweet softie.” You say as you squeeze his hands “I love you too. I never thought this is where my life would be, but I’m glad I’m here with you.”

You grab a plum and hand him one as he presses a kiss into your temple. You watch him eat the fruit as you pour yourself a cup of wine, taking a drink and setting it to the side. Now it is Halsin who watches you as you grab a plum of your own. He watches closely as you drizzle honey over the fruit and take a bite, causing its juice and honey to drip down you, some landing on your cleavage.

A low growl emanates from Halsin as you hear him whisper “Oak father preserve me”. He reaches a hand out, being sure to keep his eyes locked on yours, as he uses his thumb to take a swipe of juice and honey off the top of your breasts, coming closer to you as he sucks it off his thumb.

Keeping eye contact, Halsin moved in even closer. “My, my, little dove, you’re a bit messy tonight. Can I help you clean yourself up?”

His closeness causes you to breathe harder, making your breasts heavy closer to his face.

“I’d be more disappointed if you didn’t. Help a girl out, huh?” Your request came out breathier than you had anticipated.

Receiving the consent he was waiting for, Halsin presses a bruising kiss to your lips, causing you both to moan. Halsin slowly works his way down your neck, leaving marks as he went, until reaching your chest. He licked the rest of the honey off your chest before he pulled back to look at you again, ensuring that you were enjoying yourself. He saw that you were leaning your head back as your eyes rolled back. Satisfied that you were enjoying yourself, Halsin reaches down and pulls the hemline of your dress down as he lays you down. Halsin slots himself between your thighs as he pulls your dress down more, revealing your breasts. He takes a nipple in his mouth as he paws at your other breast. Spurred on by hearing your moans, he continues working your dress down your body, silently thanking Silvanus for the loose fabric it was made of. Once he had you completely stripped, he sat up and marveled at your form. Running his hands down your body, grabbing handfuls of your plush stomach and thick thighs.

“Silvanus truly took his time creating you, my heart. Oak father, preserve me, you are so beautiful.”

Halsin leans down, placing tender kisses across every inch of skin he could see, leaving the occasional mark as he kissed closer to your aching core. He places your thighs over his shoulders as he lays himself back down. He slowly kisses his way down each of your thighs as you card a hand through his hair, hearing a moan as your nails scratch Halsin’s scalp. Needing more, you grab a handful of his hair, attempting to guide to where you need.

“Patience, my heart.” You hear as Halsin chuckles. “You’ll get what you need, and much more.”

Just as you are about to protest, a gasp leaves you as you feel Halsin’s mouth around your clit. Tongue circling as he gently sucks on it, making your grip on his hair tighten even more. His hands come around your thighs, most definitely leaving bruises from his tightening grip, as he brings his tongue down to your slick folds. His name tumbles off your lips as you moan his name, feeling your core beginning to tighten, knowing that you’re close. You grind against his face trying to get yourself there faster. You feel as Halsin withdraws one of his hands from your thigh, quickly finding entrance as he continues to work your overstimulated clit. He pumps one finger in and out of you, quickly adding a second one after feeling how wet you are. As he continues fingering you, hitting that sweet spot oh so well, you back arches as you find yourself closer and closer to the edge.

“You’re doing so well for me. I love feeling the way you tighten around my fingers as you get closer to finishing. I need you to finish for me, love, like the good girl you are. Can you do that?”

As you hear his praise and have your sense filled by the man, between his ministrations in your cunt, continuing to use his tongue to circle and flick your clit, and his strong hand around your thigh, you quickly find yourself tumbling over the edge. Halsin doesn’t stop though, he continues his work as he moans into you feeling you cum on his hand. Halsin kisses his way up your body as you struggle to catch your breath, feeling him take his pants off as he does. He grabs your hands with his, lacing his fingers between yours, and gives you a passionate kiss.

“I need you to keep your hands above your head for me and if it becomes too much please do not hesitate to tell me.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him, wondering just what the druid has in store for you. You hear him whisper “Voco vineae” with a flash of green, you feel as roots come up out of the ground, pinning down your wrists. You flash Halsin a mischievous smile as he leans down to kiss you again. Playing with one of your breasts as he gave his throbbing cock a couple of strokes before lining up with your entrance. You both moan as he sinks his length into you, stuffing his cock into you down to the hilt with little resistance. He brings your legs over his chest before he leans forward placing his forearms on both sides of your head. He feels you clench again as before he even starts thrusting, you turned on from how he has you folded and pinned down. He starts thrusting at an achingly slow speed, causing you to whimper as you need more. Need to feel more of his cock in you, need to dig your nails into his skin.. You just need more of him. After what feels like an eternity of his languid strokes, Halsin begins thrusting faster and harder, feeling himself come close to the edge. You moan his name as your head falls back even farther, eyes rolling in the back of your head.

“That’s it, love. You take my cock so well, it’s as if you were made for me.”

You struggle against the roots more as you hear his praise, wanting to feel his skin against yours. He continues his punishing pace of thrusting into, still perfectly hitting that sweet spot, just the way he knows you like. You, once again, quickly find yourself stepping over the edge as you finish. Once Halsin feels you tighten around him as you finish, his pace falters as he finds himself coming closer to the edge himself. With a wave of his hand, he dismisses the roots around your wrists and pulls you close to him, continuing his pace as he does. You instinctively pull him into a kiss as you wrap your arms around his neck, slipping your tongue in his mouth as he moans into you. He continues to hold you while he fucks you as he finally reaches his climax, stifling his moan as he buries his head in the crock of your neck. He slowly stops thrusting into you as he rides out his high. He lays down on his side, bringing you with him, as he kisses the top of your head.

You rest your head against his chest, still fighting for breath as you lay there. “You’re gonna have to do that thing with the roots more often, big guy.” You say as you grab at his shirt.

Halsin gives you a laugh as he hears your words. “That can be arranged, my love.” He begins to rub your back as he tangles his body between yours as you both quickly find sleep.

#bg3 #fanfic #halsin #halsin silverbough #halsin baldur's gate 3 #halsin x oc

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redeemers-and-dragons · 13 days

Text

Redeemers: Greenest in Flames! Part 3

Narration: *The tunnels below Greenrest is dark, damp, and filled with the echoes of skittering rats. The walls are cracked, covered in moss, and cobwebs hang from the ceiling. Jaune leads Cinder and Neo with the help of a torch, shining light on the ground to reveal any rats for either Cinder to lob a firebolt or Neo to shoot with her hand crossbow.*

Cinder: …You know, after running through a town under siege from masked men and a dragon, this would have been the last thing I thought I’d have had to do today.

Jaune: *Awkwardly chuckles* It’s certainly a change of pace, isn’t it? But hey, if it’s a job that needs doing, we gotta do it.

Cinder: *Rolls her eyes* There’s hardly any rodents around this tunnel to even warrant a “rat problem". I’m sure the fleeing refugees that are going to be running through this tunnel are not going to be too picky about a few rats.

Neo: *Is silently counting each rat she sees. With each kill, she casts an illusionary sound of a bell.* Ding... Ding…

Jaune: Well think about it this way, the real goal here is to secure the tunnel, investigate the secret entrance, and make sure it's safe for us and the villagers. Killing the rats is more of a side objective to make sure that they don’t bite someone and spread a plague in the keep.

Cinder: Fine, I’ll admit there’s importance to this task. But only if you admit that it’s bullshit that we are the ones doing it and not the guards.

Neo: *Casts Minor Illusion to conjure a voice.* “You’re just upset that I’m getting more kills than you.”

Cinder: By all means, the title of “Rat Queen” is all yours.

Neo: *Sticks her tongue out as she nails another rat.* Ding.

Cinder: Anyway, now that we have a lull in excitement, how about we take this time to become better acquainted? Seeing as the possibility of us all dying together has risen significantly.

Jaune: Grim way of pitching it, but sure. What would you like to know?

Cinder: Well , what made you want to become a paladin? No offense, but you seem a little… “too sweet,” for this kind of work.

Jaune: Oh, I guess you can say that’s because my dad is a paladin. And so was my grandpa. And my great grandpa. And my great-great grandpa…

Neo: *Conjures Minor Illusion* “Does every man in your family have to be a paladin or something?”

Jaune: N-No, not really. It’s not like it’s a mandatory thing. It just sort of made sense. I wanted to help people, and paladins help people. *Laughs bashfully* I know, I know it's a boring answer. But I can't put it any other way other than... I like to do it. It's my calling.

Cinder: Gods, you really are “sickly sweet.”

Neo: *Gags mockingly*

Jaune: *Blushes* W-Well what about you? What made you want to worship… Satan?

Cinder: *Huffs* I don’t worship Satan, Boy. I am a servant of the demonette, Lilistor. She’s an up and comer, and has gained quite the following since I came along. As for how I came to be in her employ… let’s just say I wasn’t in the position to be too choosy with how I survived. Lilistor was there when I had nothing else… *A brief moment of silence.* Enough about me, what about you Neo? What made you into the career criminal you are today?

Neo: *Shrugs before casting minor illusion* Because stealing is fun. *Fires off another bolt that sticks a rat in the rear, causing it to squeak and immediately limp into a hole in a nearby barricaded passage. Neo looks annoyed and crawls over to the hole to reach in to try and grab the rat. All of sudden she hisses in pain and yanks her arm back out, shaking her bitten hand.*

Jaune: Neo! You ok? *Goes over and checks her finger*

Neo: *Pouts with a single tear in her eye, glares at Jaune and then points demandingly at the barricaded passage.*

Jaune: Sure, I think I get it. Hold this a second. *Jaune hands her the torch and puts both hands on either side of the passage before rearing a single swift kick into the rotten wood to make a much bigger hole.*

Narration: In the dim light of the torch, a single rat lies still, with an arrow piercing its rear end. The black shadows behind it dance and twitch with the glow of hundreds - maybe even thousands - of bright red eyes, each pair of them a pinprick of glowing malice within the darkness.

Jaune: …Uh oh.

Neo: *Unable to scream, did the very next best thing, dropping her torch and jumping into Jaune’s arms like a cat running up a tree.*

Rat Swarm: *Start surging out in a wave of vermin bodies, immediately engulfing the torch and making towards Jaune’s armored boots.* Squeaksqueaksqueaksqueak!

Jaune: *Back pedaling frantically towards Cinder* C-C-C-CINDERRRR!

Cinder: *Stares in shock for only a moment before snarling and pushing past Jaune and Neo and holding out her arm* Burning Hands!

Narration: The dark tunnel suddenly fills with flames. The sound of roaring fire and death squeal of hundreds of rats were deafening. The smell of smoke and burnt hair was overwhelming. The heat of the hellish power was scorching. After a few seconds, the fire from Cinder’s hand stopped coming forth, leaving the only light in the tunnel to be the pile of small burning carcasses.

Cinder: *Slightly out of breath* Alright, so maybe there really was a “rat problem.” You two alright?

Jaune/Neo:

Jaune: Y-Yeah. Good job. Guess all that leaves is to check the entrance. *Goes to put Neo down before suddenly being choked.*

Neo: *Holding onto Jaune’s neck like a vice, conjuring another auditory illusion.* “If you think I’m stepping on this ground after that, you have another thing coming. Carry me.

Narration: Jaune, Neo, and Cinder make their way to the end of the tunnel and find the locked grate. It’s worn and rusted, but it should be able to open with a good twist of a key or a hard knock. They can peer outside through the grating to see some overgrown foliage and the night sky.

Cinder: Hear anything?

Neo: *Shakes her head.*

Jaune: Looks like the raiders haven’t found this entrance yet. That’s good.

Cinder: *Seems pleased.* That’s very good. Now all we have to do is head back-

Bell Toll: RING. RING. RING. RING.

Cinder: What is that?

Jaune: …That’s a church bell. Something is wrong. We have to hurry back to the keep!

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

The Party: *The party meets back together at the highest parapet of the keep with Governor Nighthill, who is currently looking off towards the sound of the ringing bell in town.*

Adam: What is it? Reinforcements?

Neon: Ours or theirs?

Nighthill: No. That’s the bell of the Temple of Chauntea. It must be villagers calling for help!

May: *Pulls out a periscope* I see a group of invaders surrounding it. It looks like they have a battering ram.

Jaune: We have to help them. Governor, we just secured the tunnel. What’s the fastest route to the Temple?

Nighthill: The river winds right behind the church. Follow the water and into the surrounding treeline, you should be unnoticed. Quickly, form a rescue team and get there as soon as you can!

#redeemers au #jaune arc #neon katt #adam taurus #cinder fall #may zedong #neo politan #reese chloris

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miss-anachronism · 8 days

Note

for requests. i need. valen x male magister merlin. im a sucker for this guy. anything really. thank you!

Ooh, I’ve never read an x reader/MC fic, let alone written one! New territory, as exciting as it is scary.

I’m not so sure I have a good grip on Valen’s character, but I tried to write it from his perspective. I hope this suits your needs! It gets a bit philosophical. And sorry if its OOC :,)

He isn’t sure what to think, really.

They’re sitting around a dying campfire, just outside the borders of the Dark Forest. Lorsan is pacing somewhere in the distance, muttering to himself, or to the wind, maybe. Trying to figure out what’s happened to his home. Korin leans against a tree, tending to his wounds- courtesy of Merlin. The magister himself is across from Valen, wrapping his own wound and chattering with his hamsters.

Logically, Valen knows that the lesson he should have taken from this scramble is a lot more profound than what’s been on his mind. He should be contemplating the Wilders, the forest, their next steps, how to protect the refugees. And he’s trying to, but it’s just that something- someone- keeps catching his attention.

He didn’t know Merlin could bleed.

It’s such a silly observation. But as Valen watches the angry red wound on Merlin’s forearm, his gut twists. It’s like seeing a god’s flesh tear, and seeing that its blood is the same bright red as his own.

Valen isn’t sure what exactly Merlin is. As far as he knows, no one does, not even Merlin himself. But to the average young Lightbearer, he’s a myth. A legendary figure that you might glimpse once in your life, but would never get to meet. Never speak with, let alone camp alongside. Fight alongside. Merlin throws his head back to laugh at something Chippy has said, and something stirs in Valen’s ribs, something he knows is dangerous.

All of this is dangerous. Merlin is not someone to be loved; Valen has seen what happened to Mirael. Forgotten about, left in the dust, accidentally as it was. The way she watches Merlin, her face made of mixed admiration, bitterness, and regret. He wonders if she would take it all back, if she could. Scariest of all, when she bid them farewell, the look in her eyes sent an ugly pain of jealousy through Valen’s chest. And he doesn’t want that to happen to him, selfish as that may be. Every time Merlin falls asleep, he risks waking up knowing nothing.

Besides, what is Valen to a hero of myth? His whole life has been barely a blink in Merlin’s. Whatever he is, there is no reasonable way Valen could ever mean something to Merlin the way that Merlin is beginning to mean something to him. Merlin will outlive him a thousand times over. And he’s probably met a thousand different people, fallen in love with quite a few of them. Someone who has experienced so much life, so much loss, can they still love? Could they ever?

And yet, he bleeds. It’s such a human weakness that it seems impossible. Valen knew heroes could bleed; he didn’t know gods could. Merlin does not go about the world serene and calculating, watching every moment with practiced ease. He stumbles, laughs, misses with his spells. He jostles Valen’s pauldron excitedly when they win a fight, he’s the last to flee when they lose, ensuring everyone else has disengaged safely. He has only one dimple, on his left cheek. Sometimes he speaks so fast his words blend together, and Hammie has to remind him to slow down. It’s endearing. It’s human. Valen doesn’t know what to do with it. Because it was so much easier, to write off affection as admiration. When the pieces had first clicked, he thought it all made sense. The natural pull that the magister gave off- yes, of course, it was just Merlin’s nature. But they’re a week into this camaraderie, and Valen keeps noticing things like the lick of hair on his neck that doesn’t sit flat.

Pretty fucking annoying, that’s what it is. Valen’s always prouded himself on his ability to swerve out of love’s path. He can flirt and charm all he wants, but at the end of the day all the love letters he receives are ink and paper, nothing more. Whenever someone seriously reciprocates- god forbid- he disengages as smoothly as he can, lest they get the wrong impression.

But Merlin has changed all that, somehow. Impossibly so. He supposes it’s in his nature, to take everything and turn it upside down. Valen doesn’t want to flirt with the Magister, to laugh as he flushes under his praise. Well, it would be nice, he always has liked the attention; but the thing is, that isn’t the point. With Merlin, he just wants to be. No performance, no elaborate courtship. Just… be. Together. All this, for someone who is more myth than man.

It seems like the scariest thing he’s ever faced.

“Valen?”

He jumps as the magister suddenly speaks, and realizes with mounting embarrassment that he’s been staring the whole time. Luckily, the magister grins good-naturedly- and ah, there’s that dimple again.

“Lost in thought?”

“You could say that.”

He leans back on his hands and forces his face into a smirk. It’s easier than he anticipated; despite everything, Merlin makes it simple to be around him.

“I’ve been meaning to say,” Merlin mirrors his position as Chippy and Hammie scuttle away, the former setting off on a quest to climb the nearest tree, “I really appreciate your help in all of this. Coming along, and aiding me- far past your assigned duties. It isn’t lost to me.”

Valen gives him a look. “Of course, magister. I’m not one to leave danger to fester; I’m sorry you ever had that impression of me.”

“No, it’s not that, it’s…” Merlin’s brow furrows as he collects his thoughts. “You know, you seem so… charmingly nonchalant. Like nothing bothers you. But that clearly isn’t true. You care a lot, Valen, and it’s really, really nice to see. You’re someone who is just… good, you know? And I appreciate it.” He grins sheepishly. “Sorry. Kinda cheesy compliment. I’ve lost all my memories, you know, but being around you- and Lorsan, Cassadee, Mirael- honestly, I don’t feel like I’m missing much of anything. Everything I need is right here.”

He shrugs and turns back to the fire, as if he has not sent Valen’s mind reeling. Functionally, Merlin has been aware for only a week- one week out of thousands of years. He’s wondered how he’s been so calm about the whole thing, and…

And it’s hard to believe, but it’s much harder to doubt what Merlin says, not as he stares into the fire with that soft smile. It dawns on Valen that he probably knows more about Merlin than Merlin does- all of the legends, at least. And yet, despite that insurmountable legacy, despite the name and title that bears unimaginable weight, Merlin is… content. Content in just moving forward, and hoping he’s doing the right thing.

And isn’t that all that Valen’s doing, as well? He doesn’t deserve all this praise; he always shies away from large displays of gratitude, loathing how awkward they make him feel. Because he’s just moving forward, and trying to do the right thing. It’s a simple motive, really. Faith, and what effort it takes to retain it. He always thought Merlin would have some deeper, existential knowledge of the world that would put all else to shame- access to the secrets of the universe, and what not. And, certainly, his magical capabilities are second to none- but his philosophy, the way he lives; it very well might be human after all.

Maybe the usual Merlin, the one with all his memories, is the knowledgeable, immovable sage that Valen grew to look up to. Maybe, once restored, Merlin will become that god-like fairytale hero, wisdom surpassing all others, power knowing no ends.

Selfishly, Valen hopes that never happens. That the Merlin in front of him stays the same, annoying dimple and all, and keeps looking at Valen like that. Like he sees something in him that Valen never knew was there. He hopes Merlin never raises above their quips, their banter.

He know’s it’s all in vain. But god, he hopes.

#afk journey #afk Valen #fanfic #ghostie writes #afk merlin

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tommarvoloriddlesdiary · 1 year

Text

“Riddle, did you hear about the new war refugees?”

Tom sat comfortably in a fine leather chair by the fireplace. Its top back boasted a swooping curved wood carving of snakes at play, the detail work all done in delicate silver filigree. Admittedly, it wasn’t a very comfortable chair at all, as ostentatious as it was and no doubt older than Headmaster Dippet himself—but Tom would not be seen as picky of all things. His image of imperturbable Head Boy was undoubtedly always at stake.

Glancing up from his book, a spelt hidden copy of Dark Curses; The Uncounterable, Tom deigned Abraxas with his already drifting attention. “You’ll have to be more specific, Abraxas. There have been, after all, nearly sixty or so of them.”

Abraxas never huffed, but this was a near thing, “Yes, yes. Well, all those other ones aren’t worth our time. These refugees have just sorted Slytherin.”

Ah, that was interesting. The children sent here from Grindelwald’s warpath have all been the same in some way. They have come injured almost beyond repair, some still recovering in the medi-wing. They have come devastated by their loss, newly orphaned and longing for their homes. They have come angry, lashing out and vicious, headstrong to a fault— Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs through and through.

It was almost a surprise none had so far come with any ambition or cunning loud enough to sway the hat to their esteemed house. Surely the rumours of Slytherin House and their darker leanings could not have reached every new ear.

It almost had the makings of a conspiracy. Or it had, before these new students.

“More than one?” Tom asked.

Abraxas crossed his arms and raised his chin, pleased to have Tom’s attention. He loved gossiping, a terrible and useful habit that Tom often happily exploited. “Three of them,” he leaned in closer, “and they all claim to be siblings. But it’s absolutely absurd; they look nothing close to related. The only thing they share in common is their surname.”

Tom thought it odd that they would feel the need to lie about something so simple. “When did they arrive?”

“This morning. I passed by Slughorn, who could not help himself from sharing with Avery and me his absolute delight at having new Slytherins to take under his wing.” Abraxas frowned, “Though that was ages ago. It is strange he’s yet to introduce them to you.” He continued muttering, and Tom’s attention returned to his book, “You’re his favourite, Head Boy and all. You’d make the best impression….”

Tom hummed, noncommittal. It wouldn’t do to look anything more than humble, though he doubted Abraxas would notice. “I’m sure we will meet them soon. Lunch starts in an hour.”

— —

And meet, they did.

New students used to be all the rage. Tittering and giggling and whispering abound. Some stares of sympathy, pity. New students used to be an unnecessary building of energy that would last over the course of several days until it inevitably died off. So Tom was grateful when the shiny lustre of sad little children arriving in droves finally pittered into solemn, if curious, acceptance. Not an unusual occurrence by any means.

These three students appear to have brought that ridiculous energy back.

They entered the Great Hall late, and Tom assumed this was reason one of a long list that triggered the excitement. Slughorn and Dippet were decidedly absent, and when they arrived, it was with the new Slytherins in tow. This wouldn’t have caused any fuss if it hadn’t been for Slughorn’s naturally boisterous voice and Dippet’s worried frown at whatever inane things he was spouting. Their conversation drew attention like moths to a flame.

“And this is the Great Hall! Truly a marvel, is it not?” Slughorn proclaimed with large, outstretched hands. Displaying the hall like a muggle magic trick. Disgusting.

Reason two revealed itself in the new students’ reactions. It was customary to feel some sense of awe when seeing the Great Hall for the first time. Tom certainly remembers his. How the night shone brighter than he’d ever known it capable of away from the smog of London. How magic made even the stars that much more attainable.

But one of the students had simply stopped. He was half a head shorter than the other boy and about level with the girl, with dark hair and glasses. Tom couldn’t see much else that distinguished him from any other classmate, but there was a way he held himself that was so different from the other students that had come and toured the castle. He looked upon the duller grey sky of today’s dreary rainstorm with something that wasn’t quiet wonder or amazement. His siblings certainly didn’t share his interest, hardly glancing at the ceiling at all, finding the food much more appealing.

No, Tom was sure he wasn’t taking in the majesty of the hall’s fine spellwork; if anything, he seemed so incredibly relieved.

His siblings’ reactions to his pause, when they finally noticed he’d stopped at the doors and they’d gone on without him, Tom assumed caused reason three for the excitement. They rushed to him with a startled “Harry!” and grabbed his arms, gripping him hard enough to pull him out of his trance. His head bounced rapidly between the two, a lanky ginger and a girl with hair so poofy Tom thought her part puffskein, obviously bewildered.

The girl had gone so far as to cradle his face, her palm pressed to the flat of his cheek. Tom couldn’t make out the words from here, but the students lunching were suddenly less inclined to make much noise, the sound dropping to a polite chatter. Everyone wanted to eavesdrop, it seemed.

This led to reason four: these… siblings… they were really very, very close.

And suddenly the excitement knew no peace.

“Merlin,” Emmett Parkinson scoffed, “what are they? Lovers? I thought you said they were family, Malfoy?”

Abraxas dragged his attention away from their display to respond indignant, “That’s what I was told!”

“He’d also said they were triplets,” Cygnus Black chimed in, revulsion evident across his features. “Those mudbloods seem to have carried a nasty muggle trait here with them,” he smirked, “careful. It could be catching.”

Muted laughter carried its way through the seventh and some sixth-year Slytherins. It was rich of Cygnus to throw such blatant accusations of incest around, but Tom could admit that if they kept this up, the Evans would be torn apart within the day. Such softness was frowned upon in their house.

Slughorn and Dippet brought them to the staff table and quickly introduced them to the Professors. “These three bright minds are Harry, Ronald, and Hermione Evans! Our newest seventh-years! I’ve been told we can expect great things from them,” Slughorn said. He puffed up like he always did when he boasted about his Slytherin students. However, it was rare to see him boast about students he hardly knew.

Then the most curious thing happened.

Slughorn turned toward the Slytherin table, eyes searching until they fell upon Tom and ambled over. This wasn’t surprising; Tom expected to meet them as Abraxas had said and expected Slughorn to introduce them to him first. Abraxas was not wrong about Slughorn favouring Tom over others.

“And this is our very own Head Boy, Tom Riddle! Tom is an exceptional young lad. He’ll be invaluable during your time here regarding any questions or concerns you might have— a vital resource!” Slughorn chortled and patted Tom’s shoulder.

What surprised Tom, and what was wholly unexpected, was the blatant hostility after they were introduced.

Hermione Evans was a plain girl with a deep complexion, made plainer by her pinched brows and tilted head as though Tom were a very disagreeable book but one she just needed to get through to argue its faults fully. Finally, after a long moment of staring, she gave a little nod that seemed more toward herself than him and said, “Hello.”

“Merlin,” started Ronald Evans, broken from whatever trance had consumed him by the girl’s voice. He was decidedly the odd one out of the trio, with his tall frame rivalling Tom’s height and his bright hair and pale, freckled face. Seeing them all up close made it even more apparent how impossible their claims of being triplets were. Surely if they were triplets, they’d be a medical marvel. “I promise we won’t go to you for shite.”

Tom’s brows raised. Hermione Evans hissed out a berating “Ronald” and whipped around to stare at him aghast. She hit his arm when he simply shrugged unapologetically.

Tom ignored them in favour of casting his attention to the final Evans, Harry. Hermione Evans and Harry shared more in common. They shared wild hair and sun-kissed skin and height. Yet their differences were aplenty. Harry’s hair was darker, and his eyes were brighter— a vivid green that Tom couldn’t seem to place but knew was undoubtedly familiar— and he had a long jagged scar that cut down his forehead and through his brow. It marred his face with a dull unhealed red.

Harry did not look at Tom, refused to, and kept his head held high and sight straight ahead to the wall opposite. Such an intense focus.

When it became clear Tom wouldn’t receive much of a greeting from Harry either, he spoke. “Welcome to Hogwarts,” Tom smiled charmingly. It was the kind he pulled out on rare occasions when he knew people were looking down on him for his name and, ultimately, blood status. Though, he didn’t think that to be the problem at the moment. “If you do find yourselves needing assistance, I would be happy to lend a hand.”

“Very good!” Slughorn continued, oblivious or simply ignoring the odd tension. “I’ll be sure to get you your timetables by tomorrow morning, students! For now, enjoy the rest of your day!”

And then they were alone with all of Slytherin House paying very close attention.

Tom opened his mouth, readying himself to invite the trio to sit with him during lunch. If anyone could pick information out efficiently, it would be his knights, but Hermione Evans beat him to it, “Thank you. We would stay, but we have a meeting.”

She hooked her arms through her… brothers’ and stole them away. She dragged them back up the hall and through the doors, clamouring to get out as though the devil were on their tail. How very odd.

What meeting could they possibly have on their first day here?

Druella Rosier scoffed. “Mannerless, who could have guessed?”

“Evans certainly isn’t a wizarding name,” Emmett frowned, “and how are we meant to put up with more siblings? The Blacks are already ridiculous enough. Someone says ‘Black’ once, and five heads turn!”

“Come now, Emmett,” Alphard Black twisted around his brother and smirked. He pointed his fork at Emmett, careless even as it barely grazed Cygnus’s nose, who leant back unamused. “If anything, you could consider us practice. But judging by the look of them,” Alphard sat back and straightened out, “I doubt they’d even answer you if you called.”

The rest of the Slytherins bickered among themselves, content to poke their fun and gossip. Tom held his tongue; he kept a careful ear and tuned out when uninterested. The Evans seemed odd but nothing special. Tom could care less about their decorum or lack thereof as long as they didn’t make any trouble for their house.

— —

Tom spoke too soon.

They had vanished for the remainder of the day. No one had seen hide nor hair of all three Evans since their grand entrance during lunch. Tom was confident they’d gotten lost. But as he settled into his chair by the fireplace once more for the evening, enjoying the last moments of the night before his prefect rounds, they finally arrived.

Harry was in low murmured talks with Ronald, their heads bent close together, while Hermione Evans had her full attention on a tome in her hands. Following behind her in the air was a stack of five or six more. Had that been where they were? The library?

Walburga Black tutted from her perch on the leather chesterfield opposite, “They haven’t even introduced themselves and have hardly been here some hours, yet have already riffled through the library shamelessly?”

Tom was more bemused than offended. How they remembered their way to the library after Slughorn’s (most likely brief) tour was a more pressing mystery. But given how Hermione Evans flipped through pages of a book like a windstorm, he wouldn’t be surprised to learn she had a photographic memory.

And as absorbed in her text as she was, and without her brothers’ careful guidance while distracted as they were, she walked right into Waylen Mulciber. Who, Tom supposed, in her defence, anticipated her blunder. He had watched her wander deeper into the room with a vicious grin and hadn’t been inclined to move out of the way. Instead, Waylen stood there, arms crossed, wand already out, and took her minor collision with dramatics only rivalled by Abraxas himself.

“Watch yourself, mudblood!” Waylen shoved her back, and Tom’s brows arched as her brothers sprung into gear. Ronald caught her before she fell to the floor, and Harry Evans cast a quick spell to keep her trailing books up as they’d begun to fall when she did. The students still left in the common room took to the scene like the play it was, smiles sharp as they kept a close eye on the performance.

“What a joke,” Waylen continued, “to have tainted—“ his mouth pressed shut into a fine line. He panicked and reached up with both his hands to touch his throat and face, wand delicately balanced, and panicked more when his wand was ripped from his hold.

Harry Evans seemed to have taken Waylen’s starting rant as a cue to silence him and his shock as a cue to disarm him. Tom was nearly impressed at the speed of his casting, blindsiding one of the better duelling students, but it was hardly a fair fight. And Mulciber was an idiot on a good day.

“Harry, wait-stop. It’s all right; he doesn’t matter,” Hermione Evans said, holding a vice grip on Ronald’s arm, reaching out a hesitant hand to Harry’s wrist. His eyes were locked on Waylen’s, a severe frown pulling at his face, but when he turned his gaze to Hermione, they softened.

There was something about that look. It was certainly chastised, very apologetic, but also stern. A sureness that almost radiated. A loud he deserved it echoing throughout the common room.

But it relented. Harry Evans sighed and rolled his eyes to the heavens. When he spoke, Tom noted his voice as quiet, clear, and nearly casually authoritative. “Here. Fetch,” he said and tossed Waylen’s wand across the room. It stopped just beside Tom on the floor, a roll away from the burning fireplace. Tom did not doubt that was artfully intentional, and he felt the amusement of it all curling his lips. “If I ever hear you say that word again, I’ll do more than embarrass you.”

The silence lingered. Or it did until Ronald whistled something low and encouraging, its sound causing Harry and Hermione Evans to look at him bewildered. Then, when he gave Harry a pleased grin and a thumbs-up, the tension popped like apparition.

Harry snorted loud and unattractive. His hand slapped across his face in a poor attempt to conceal his onslaught of… giggles. Hermione shook her head in awe, a growing smile tugging at her lips, and kept a firm hold on Ronald’s arm as she grabbed at the sleeve of Harry’s robes and once again dragged them out and away from their fellow Slytherins. In a commendable show of magic, the tomes still hovering beside Harry kept stable and unwavering, following them out even as Harry Evans’s laughter became near uncontrollable. The sound of it echoed down the hall until the common room door slid shut.

The overall reaction to their escape was mutiny.

Loud screeches of how dare they and someone go stop them and does anyone know the counter for Mulciber rang out across the room amongst the murmured contemplation. When Tom looked over at Walburga and took stock of her appalled face, he was tempted to laugh too.

What a fascinating final year at Hogwarts it was turning out to be.

#tomarry #tomarrymort #harrymort #pov: tom #my fic #2.7k words #fic is unnamed at the moment #hi i forgot i posted that thing while i was at work yesterday so before i got to work today i thought i'd hand it over #i'll be mostly gone the next 12 hours trying to survive my shift so please take my wack attempts at making another tomarry time travel fic #and be kind #because picking names for past people is a challenge i hate #also i didn't read this over one last time before sending it so pray for me that there are minimal errors

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lostcauses-noregrets · 6 months

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SnK Final Episode thoughts

A few thoughts about the final episode of SnK now the dust has started to settle. Although it was the anime that first got me into the series, I’m really a manga first kinda fan, I enjoy the anime, but it’s always been a nice addition for me. Also, while I was very ambivalent about the ending of the manga and had a LOT of things to say about it at the time, I’ve more or less made my peace with it. All of which is to say that I went into the final episode without any particular expectations. I was excited to see the series draw to a close, hoped they wouldn’t mess up Levi’s ending, and was curious to see the much touted changes.

I have to say, I really enjoyed it. The action sequences around the Attack Titan were breathtaking and the rumbling was genuinely horrifying. The pacing was good and it felt a lot shorter than the 90 minute running time. The voice acting was fabulous; Yuki Kaji, Yui Ishikawa, Marina Inoue and Hiroshi Kamiya really knocked it out of the park.

Jean and Connie were really touching. I loved the way that they kept harking back to what it meant to be a Scout. Reiner was fabulous too. I had a lot more sympathy for him by the end of the episode than I’ve had throughout the series. The expression on his face when Jean said they were all Scouts was really moving. Pieck is my best girl, as always, but I’m afraid I still haven’t warmed to Annie, I guess I never will. Gabi seemed to be a lot less prominent than I remembered from the manga, but her scenes with Falco and Levi were great. It’s no secret that I’ve never been fond of Armin, however I thought he came across really well in the episode. His conversation with Zeke in paths made a lot more sense and was actually really touching, Kudos to Marina Inoue for her amazing voice acting.

Levi was perfect in every single frame. You really got the impression that he was fighting with every last fibre of his being, despite his catastrophic injuries, and of course he never forgot his vow to Erwin. The moment when he finally killed Zeke was *chef’s kiss*.

Levi’s final salute was absolutely devastating. I completely choked up watching the subbed episode on CR, even though I’d already seen the raw and had been capping the scene all day. The final image of Erwin and the Wings of Freedom fading into the mist had me in pieces. The choice of theDOGS as the soundtrack for this scene just added to the pathos as Erwin’s character song, Hope of Mankind, is an arrangement of this track.

The change to Levi’s ending was very unexpected, but I really liked it. I’d always wondered how that city at the end of the manga survived unscathed. It seemed more realistic to see Levi, Onyankopon, Gabi and Falco in the refugee encampment. It’s also fully in keeping with Levi’s compassionate character for him to be contributing to the reconstruction efforts, and of course it all ties in with what we’ve seen of Bad Boy. (It’s also pretty much exactly how I imagined Levi’s post war life in The Permanence of the Young Men.) Seeing Levi handing out sweets to children who bear such a close resemblance to Ramzi and Halil was really touching. I’ve seen some people complaining that the lollipop scene was a jarring note of humour that seemed out of place, but I didn’t see it like that. I interpreted it as Levi remembering children like Ramzi, and perhaps even recalling the trauma of his own childhood. I’ve seen some interesting discussion on twitter linking Levi’s reaction to the clown in Marley to the few sketchy panels of Bad Boy and suggesting that rather than being pissed at being mistaken for a child, Levi was triggered by something traumatic that happened in his own childhood. Isayama rarely draws anything unintentionally, so we’ll have to wait and see.

Having said all that...much as I enjoyed the episode, it didn’t change my opinion of the ending (which you can read here if you’re a real glutton for punishment). I really appreciated the change to Armin’s dialogue when he confronted Eren in Paths. The scene in the manga where he thanks Eren for becoming a mass murderer for their sakes still leaves a bad taste, so that change was greatly appreciated. I also liked the fact that Armin said they wouldn’t be the heroes Eren wanted them to be, though in actual fact this is the role they take on. The fact that Armin and the others were so quick to forgive Eren still really sticks in my craw, if anything, it was even more jarring in the anime after seeing how hard they had fought to stop him. The same goes for Armin telling Mikasa to find a good place for Eren to rest quietly. I’m sorry, but I’m not sure Eren deserves to rest in peace.

Eren himself was pathetic in every sense of the word, just as he is in the manga, but I think he explains his fucked up rationale a bit more clearly in the anime. I have seen some criticism that Eren is a poor villain because he lacks any coherent ideology, other than some vague nonsensical notion of “freedom”, but that’s the whole point. Eren isn’t a tragic villain or an evil genius with a masterplan, he really is just a kid who had too much power and didn’t know what to do with it.

There’s nothing I can really say about Mikasa, she was as dignified and tragic as she is in the manga. However I thought the connection between the Founder Ymir and Mikasa was, if anything, even more obscure in the anime. I can’t help wondering what anime only fans make of it. I’m also not sure I liked the way the anime handled the extra scenes at the end. It was quite clever to include them as the credits rolled, but it did rather lessen their impact. I think I’d have preferred to see them full screen.

I know there’s been a lot of criticism with the way MAPPA animated the characters, particularly in comparison to JJK, but tbh I have little patience with that. With the notable exception of Levi, SnK has never been a pretty boy anime so the comparison to JJK seems misplaced. Although I will always prefer WIT’s style, I think MAPPA did a good job of incorporating some of Isayama’s art style in the animation, particularly the exaggerated facial expressions he sometimes draws.

And finally on to that scene with Erwin. The level of outrage at the way Erwin was drawn in the scene where Levi recalls his vow was quite something. I have several Anons in my inbox claiming that MAPPA have a deliberate anti-Erwin bias, which is nonsense. Admittedly MAPPA’s Erwin does suffer in comparison with WIT’s season 3 Erwin who was magnificent, however even WIT didn’t manage to draw Erwin consistently. I think some fans have been quick to forget just how wonky Erwin sometimes looked in earlier seasons of the anime. Also as I said in this post, it’s important to remember that Levi is in the depths of despair when he remembers Erwin at this point, as he has convinced himself that he has failed him. Erwin always looks beautiful and serene when Levi remembers him; this is the one exception. The bleak expression on Erwin’s face is a reflection of Levi’s state of mind, not some hidden agenda on MAPPA’s part. If we’d had soft shoujo Erwin in this scene, it wouldn’t really have conveyed Levi’s despair. The fact that we did get a close-up of the most beautiful soft shoujo Erwin at the end is hopefully enough to appease the critics.

So thems my thoughts. If you’ve had the patience to read to the end of this ramble, thank you. However you look at it, it's been a wild ride and I'm very grateful to have been along for the trip. One last word for people who are concerned the fandom will die now the season has ended. Don't worry, it won't. It will change, but change is inevitable in fandoms. However the characters and story that Isayama has created are easily compelling enough to capture fans for years to come.

#snk final season #lostcauses meta #snk

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definitely-not-an-alb · 2 months

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ooh, how do you think molly would grift essek?

Alright. Let’s grift Essek.

First I need to note that any objection along the line of ‘Essek is too intelligent to fall for grifts’ is unnecessary, because whatever you think of Essek’s specific characterisation, assuming you are to intelligent to fall for a grift is one of the major ways people fall for them, in a ‘renowned high pressure social group researcher proclaiming on twitter that Sissy Porn is real and dangerous’ kinda way (look it up it’s some hysterical terf bs).

Gonna use that joke as a sidenote that if I am conflating grifts and high pressure social groups in this, it’s ‘cause as far as I care the difference is how self-aware the people running the show are. Watch any MLM-Doku (and I think we can all agree MLMs are grifts) and you’ll inevitably get to the part about weird aspiration culture bs and group pressure. It’s all one soup.

With that out of the way, let’s establish a baseline: What’s Molly’s reason for grifting Essek? Probably money and also the fun of it/being bored. Considering Kingsley abandoned his perfectly fine shipping company job to run off to be pirate king, I don’t think ‘Molly keeps grifting long after the M9 have become financially stable for shits and giggles and because Jester enjoys it’ is too outlandish a projection. Additionally, I don’t think Molly is great with impulse control nor this whole thing where current actions cause future consequences.

Now; why would Essek fall for a grift. Grifting relies on the dupe wanting something more than having good sense about it. Most people want money, so most girfts are structured around greed, but we know money is no object to Essek (though this does make him a juicy target – what he would barely miss might make a good haul for any grifter). We do know he is primarily motivated by knowledge instead, as well as a desire to be recognized as intelligent and exceptional. Additionally, we know he needs (in the character development sense) The Power of Friendship. Lastly, I think it’s fair to say he subconsciously longs for excitement (happy, fulfilled bureaucrats don’t become heretic spies; nor do they befriend a gang of mercenaries; implicitly, Essek is happier living the life of a wayward refugee-adventurer wizard than that of an Evil Gay Vizier Court Wizard or whatever papers a Shadowhand stamps nine-to-five.).

Being a paranoid bastard makes him a harder target, though the fact that we know he has fallen for someone’s bs before (I’m counting the spectacularly bad decision that is him allying with the Assembly as falling for a grift here. That’s a stupid decision to make!) makes him an easier target. Being so socially isolated makes him an easier victim, too, though his general rejection of people and clear discomfort with social interactions makes him an unlikely target for something like a romance scam. Essek’s relationship to tolerating bullshit is a weird one; on the one hand, he does put up with Jester’s (and the rest of the Nein’s) shenanigans, on the other he clearly knows how to and dares to tell someone to fuck off, and there’s that time he just ditches everyone via teleport (hilarious). So boundaries-wise, he could go either way. Lastly, I’d argue he’s at least somewhat impulsive or at least not risk averse. Always remember we are looking at an NPC next to Sword’n’Sorcery Adventurers – Essek might look cautious next to ruin-trawling wizards, but compare him to Gundula, 55, who works in Insurance and just clicked on a phishing link to claim her Totally Real Oilve Garden Gift Card, and you’ll see what I mean – most people are too risk-averse and unimpulsive to, again, commit treason via international conspiracy and then run off without a moment’s notice to dig around a cursed-ass ruin to save the world from a Cronenbergian nightmare.

Conclusion: He’s rich, he’s bored, he loves pretending to be a spy or grand discoverer, he wants to buy your dodgy foreign papers and incredible discoveries about the Luxon so, so badly and he has absolutely no one left in his life who’ll tell him it’s a bad idea.

So, for example, Molly could Voynich him. All he needs is a battered notebook and some writing supplies, whatever knowledge of what wizards’ and alchemists’ and spies’ scribbles look like he can easily pick up from traveling with the Nein and an opportunity to ask Essek to have a look at this encoded notebook he’s been lugging around all over the continent with him, why, he was at this party in Zadash and everyone else was some boring old pompous wizard (such a bore!) so he pickpocketed one of them, just for the fun of it, but, well, turns out neither Caleb nor Beau can make head nor tails of the weird sign code it’s written in (how tragic, if only someone happened to be so much cleverer than both of them!) and if Essek wants to have a look Molly would be more than happy to lighten his pack. For a small pittance, of course.

What’s small change to Essek is probably pretty nice to have for Molly, even by that level and especially if we’re mostly doing this for the fun of it. Essek gets to fall face first into his desire to show up Caleb, Beau and potentially an unknown Assembly member with his clearly superior decoding, espionage and wizardly skills and gain Secret Knowledge, maybe even Assembly Secrets on top of that.

Arguably, this one does rely very heavily on the fact that it’s hard to prove a negative, or in this case, hard to prove a barely-literate conman’s scribbles are just that. Do keep in mind Essek doesn’t know Molly is a habitual conman, but even so, it’s not a fantastic con (Essek isn’t dumb and knows his arcana after all and Molly doesn’t, or at least not enough to make a proper Voynich).

You could make it a better Voynich by getting Caleb in on it, but instead let’s pep it and turn it into a proper Real Stradivari by changing the hints that this manuscript might be legit to being alchemy-related and adding in a shill. Let’s go with Jester, because she’s down to clown, can lie and has a way with Essek’s boundaries.

So this time around, we aren’t asking Essek outright to buy our bogus notes – instead Molly gives him the whole spiel, hands him the notebook, fucks off with as little time to actually look at it as possible before Jester enters the scene to ask what THAT is and go oh it’s about ALCHEMY well, that DOES look like the signs she saw around Yezza’s house, pretty suuuure, oh, do you think it might be Yezza’s? Do you think Yezza might want it? Do you think she should ask Molly to sell it to her so she can give it to Yezza as a present to be nice because she’s such a nice friend who does nice things?

Honestly, the money part is optional if this is wholly about making Essek look up to see if the ceiling does indeed say gullible (and if Jester is involved, it might well do so! Always better to check, with her!), but a proper Violin Drop concludes with the Grifter returning to take their worthless thing back only to be asked to sell by the victim, who thinks the grifter doesn’t know what worth he has. If it was real, offering to buy the notebook would mean Essek outsmarted a minimum of three people (Beau and Caleb can’t crack the code, Molly is too dumb and illiterate to know valuable research notes from the morning paper) and gets his hands on potentially unknown-to-him luxon-related secrets! Alas, it’s not real, as he will realize soon.

So these are two (related) ways to scam Essek. But there’s a third one I want to mention one that is a lot of cinematic fun and I didn’t know had a name until Wikipedia told me no one does it irl (boo! That’s no fun!). It takes a lot of prep, math, and a lot of people and combines Essek’s obsession with the Luxon’s secrets and Molly’s penchant for passing himself off as psychic.

Molly would need something people in Rosohna bet on, like some kind of sport, preferably one with only two results and places people do said betting on said sport in groups. I’m assuming this exists on account of gambling and sports being culturally pretty universal concepts that love to go together.

Anyway. Imagine you’re Essek Thelyss, and one day a bunch of weirdos show up in court with a piece of the god you’re atheistically-heretically obsessed with. A few weeks later, you, having your ears to the ground about new developments regarding said not-god-pieces, hear one of the weirdos has made a name for himself as a outright oracle, correctly predicting the outcome of Fantasy-Dodgeball (Rosohnas’ favourite sport) perfectly six weeks running. He swears it’s because proximity to the Luxon amplified his inborn and long-trained psychic powers to predict the future.

Now, this is obviously bullshit. Except if Essek, being regrettably acquainted with the weirdos, were to ask, Molly would certainly confirm that sure, he has mystic powers and certainly they were amplified by the Luxon and predicting sport results is a hobby of his wherever they go, does Essek want to see? and lead Essek to a bar where every regular can swear on whatever he likes that Molly has correctly predicted the results of Fantasy-Dodgeball since the first week of being in Rosohna, in fact since before he himself knew the rules or track-record of any of the teams. Not only that, but there’s a second bar full of people Molly can introduce him too. And if he wants, he can certainly come back for a drink in one of them again next week when Molly has done it once more. Just call on Molly, he’ll tell you the time and date to meet some true believers, not all of whom can possibly be his shills.

(And, incidentally, barely worth mentioning, really, since Molly’s psychic blessings from the Luxon are so accurate, he has Exciting Business Opportunities for anyone willing to place more than their weekly betting budget in his trust, and he’d love for Essek to take a look at his powers. For a small compensation of his time, of course.)

Of course Molly can’t predict the results of Fantasy-Dodgeball. Instead, the first week of downtime in Rosohna, he found out what people like to bet on in Rosohna and where, picked one or two places in each district, go there and make predictions with a fifty-fifty split, then eliminate each watering hole where he was wrong each week, slowly cutting his audience back to only people who are getting to know him as That Outlander Who Always Knows The Results of Fantasy-Dodgeball, all the while escalating the story from him being just some dude betting and drinking with the guys to the whole Chosen By The Luxon thing. Considering this is a double-scam involving a faith aspect, he might very well still cash in in places he’s been wrong once only since victims of faith-based scams are very likely to overlook inconsistencies in their scammer’s stories or promised results. By the time Essek gets involved Molly’d be down to one or two places of true believers coming to him for ‘always accurate’ tips and a bunch of other people all over Rosohna he might get some money off based on the faith-aspect. And now perhaps one intrigued high-ranking government official who’s more than willing to overlook the hereticism inherent to the whole thing and is instead very likely to fall in the academic glue-trap of trying to disprove something clearly bogus that you do kind of want to believe in because like.

Wouldn’t it be cool? If the Luxon had more awesome powers? And one of them happened to fall in Essek’s hands, with no oversight and no need to cooperate with someone like Trent or Ludinus? Would he not want it to be real?

Anyway. The real answer to this question is: Enlist Beau to send bogus stuffed bills to Essek’s secretary. Bureaucrat on bureaucrat violence, let’s go.

#critical role #essek thelyss #mollymauk tealeaf #not!fic #the Psychic Sp/orts Bet is a long shot but I just like it so much I'm sorry for having Bad (Cinematic) Taste in sca/ms #anyway. I still want the world where Molly lived and Beau taught him white collar crime #Empire Crime Siblings. The dream #sorry this took so long to answer life was busy #whoever finds my spelling mistakes may happily keep them I am. so tired #now with a read more that still leaves this post much too long damn

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wellthebardsdead · 3 months

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Kar’niss: *sitting beneath a tarp in thaniels realm watching the refugees begin to build a life for themselves in the remnants of moonrise and its surrounding lands*

Refugee woman: *accidentally drops a bucket and watches with mounting horror and disgust as it rolls right to the drider* no-

Kar’niss: *excited for an opportunity to try and be useful and make friends, grabs the bucket with his hands and stands up quickly* He-

Refugee woman: *screams and runs away from him*

Kar’niss: h-here?… *watches her disappear off into the crowd* … *looks back down at the bucket in his hands and notices the handle had snapped causing her to drop it* Ahh! *scurries back to the tarp and begins weaving*

*several hours later*

Kar’niss: *braving the sun and feeling increasingly unwanted and uncomfortable as he moves through the settlement looking for the lady, planning to just leave it at a safe distance before leaving her alone*

???: Ughhh! No I-it’s him again!!!

Kar’niss: *turns seeing the woman cowering behind her husband* wh-what-

Refugee man: *shielding his wife* Back off you filthy beast! Haven’t you frightened enough folk around here?! We’ve been through more than enough without havin to worry about monsters living amongst us!

Kar’niss: *looks at him, then around to see everyone staring at him* I-… *looks back at him then at the woman before slowly lowering down and placing the bucket on the ground with a new, stronger silk handle* I’ll go- I’ll leave you all alo- *blinks as two small hands take his and the bucket* huh? *blinks looking a little beneath himself to see thaniel standing there* th-thaniel?

Thaniel: *smiles up at him and takes his hand* don’t worry, you don’t have to leave. I think you should keep this too! Ollie does as well. You made it so pretty!

Kar’niss: *trills at the high praise and smiles as he takes his hand, gladly leaning as far down as he can just to let thaniel lead him* thank you- I I wanted to help.

Thaniel: *leading him and carrying the bucket* I’m glad, Maybe you could help teach us how to weave fabric for blankets! *hurriedly leads him away to safety as Halsin steps into view before the refugees, Tav beside him with fireball ready*

Halsin: *clears his throat* I’m ashamed of the display you’ve all put forward here today. All are welcome in natures embrace. Especially to those willing to help.

Old woman: He’s a monster! We can’t let him stay here!

Refugee woman: He’s a danger to all of us!

Refugee man: Youre out of your mind if you think we’re staying here with that freak of nature!

Tav: can I?

Halsin: do it.

*meanwhile*

Kar’niss: *smiling as he teaches Oliver and thaniel how to weave with a makeshift loom he’d constructed* you’re doing so goo-

*BOOM!!!*

Kar’niss: *shields them both with his body all the while trembling in fear* wh-what Was th-that??

Thaniel: Halsin and our friend curing the rot.

#Kar’niss #thaniel bg3 #Oliver bg3 #Tav bg3 #halsin baldur's gate 3

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multi-fan-dom-madness · 8 months

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Chapter 21: Baatir (Second Chances - Hunter x reader)

Baatir. v. care, worry about

Chapter summary: You and Hunter spend some time getting to know Pabu.

Chapter warnings: mentions of anxiety and vigilance as a trauma response; dialogue lifted directly from the show but not a 1-to-1 translation of 02x13; Hunter (a warning all on his own); slightly suggestive so 16+ but this entire work is building to 18+ so minors skedaddle; if I missed anything please let me know!

Word Count: 3,239

< Previous chapter | Next chapter >

You misunderstood Phee Genoa, you quickly realize.

Warm, salty air fills your lungs with a heavy sense of comfort, one that is both reassuring and unsettling. Gazing up at the large stone structure at the edge of the courtyard, you fidget with your exoskeletal armor. Sweat beads against your skin and collects in your curves; you grimace, wondering if it would be rude to step away to doff the exoskeleton. But you don’t want to miss out on the conversation carrying on just a few feet away.

Shep Hazard and his daughter Lyana had graciously greeted you as you disembarked your ship, and embraced Phee like an old friend. They’d called this place Pabu, a haven for refugees. Hunter’s eyes had met yours then. You’d seen the same hope flickering in your chest ignite in his eyes.

“That’s the Archium,” Phee explains, drawing your attention. She sweeps her arms out in a grand gesture. “It holds artifacts of cultural significance to many of Pabu’s residents.”

You blink. “So all your treasure hunting—”

“—has been for Pabu,” she finishes your sentence with a coy smile. “These people took me in when I needed it, so I help them in the only way I know how.”

“Phee, that’s...amazing,” you say. You’d truly never realized she did what she did with real purpose; and to be fair, you’d never even thought to ask. “Can we see the inside?”

“I would like that, as well,” Tech interjects, one finger raised. “I am most intrigued to study the artifacts you have gathered here.”

Phee pats Tech’s shoulder. “All in due time, Brown Eyes. First, dinner.”

“Aw-yeah-ha-ha!” Wrecker cheers. “I’m starving!”

“When are you not?” Tech says. He follows behind Phee, peering around at the courtyard’s architecture.

Wrecker shrugs off the half-hearted insult. “C’mon, Tech. Real food. Even you can’t say you’re not excited about that.”

Tuning out their banter, you find Hunter already gazing at you, care and patience etched across his face. Your breath catches for a moment. He looks resplendent in the tropical afternoon sun, his tanned skin glowing with life, natural highlights shining in his curls.

“Nav, Hunter, come on!” Omega calls, already halfway across the courtyard.

You chuckle. “Coming, kid!” To Hunter, you say, “Shall we?”

He gestures for you to go first. “By all means, cyare.”

You have to suppress the giddy grin that threatens to break over your face. He falls into step beside you, and the pair of you follow the rest as Phee, Shep, and Lyana lead the way to the Hazard family estate. Twice your hands brush, knuckles kissing, and sparks zing up your arm at the contact. Each time you glance up at Hunter. He doesn’t acknowledge your questioning look—until it happens again, and you catch the tiniest smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. Shaking your head, you loop your pinky finger with his for just a moment. In that moment, you squeeze, trying to convey everything you still want to say to him: you want to know all there is to know about him, but mostly, you just want to tell him ‘thank you.’

He seems to understand what you’re attempting to communicate when he squeezes back.

Then the moment passes and you let your hand drop back to your side.

Shep Hazard’s words float to you on the humid air. “...oldest part of the island. As we’ve grown over the years, we’ve expanded below the wall into Lower Pabu.”

Letting your eyes wander, you drink in everything the island has to offer. Trees bursting with ripe fruit, children scampering up and down streets playing tag, cozy wooden homes lit cheerfully from within; and farther out, the vast ocean, waves coruscating in the sunlight: this whole place seems like a dream. A paradise. Too good to be true. But stars, how you want it to be real.

Your mouth moves before you realize you’re speaking, externalizing your train of thought. “You mentioned that the villagers here are refugees.”

Shep turns and gives you a warm smile. “Many, yes.” He stops, gesturing to the neat rows of homes that cling to the mountainside. “Pabu has been a safe haven for those forced to flee their homes during the war.”

“And you’re not worried the Empire will show up?” Hunter asks.

“Why would they?” Shep chuckles, not unkindly, but you recognize the humor he finds in the question. “We’re a remote island with limited resources. But if they do, we’ll manage.”

You all lapse back into silence for the rest of the walk. Though it isn’t far, you encounter many smiling faces, each of them open and welcoming. These people know what it’s like to lose your home, to need the safe presence of community. In the weathered, sun-kissed lines of one elderly woman, you find yourself reminiscing on the woman who ran the orphanage and practically raised you. In the toothy, crooked smile of a young couple who waves to Shep and Phee, you find Arien and her family. And in Lyana’s excited giggles as she and Omega chase each other up the street, you find your tiny spark of hope steadily growing into a cautious flame.

With a broad smile, Shep pushes open a wooden gate and ushers you all into an outdoor patio, screened above with flowering vines. “I’ll be back in just a moment with food.”

Wrecker excitedly seats himself at the rough-hewn table in the center of the patio, his eyes gleaming. Tech seats himself across from his brother, nose buried in his datapad. You catch a glimpse of his screen—he furiously types notes about the vegetation and wildlife, small green monkey-like critters who chatter at you from the patio wall. With a smirk, you settle in the chair to Tech’s left. Phee takes the one to his right. Hunter lowers himself into a seat across from you. The two girls continue chasing one another, and it makes your heart soar to see Omega laughing so freely, getting to interact with a kid her own age.

“She seems to like it here,” Shep says as he returns, arms laden with platters of fresh fruit, vegetables, and fish, along with a clay jug. “You know, a little stability might do you all some good.”

Only a well-placed kick under the table keeps Wrecker from grabbing an entire tray for himself. He shoots you an abashed grin, and waits for everyone else to grab their food before taking what’s left. And what is left is more food than you and the squad have probably seen in one place in a long, long time. Even Tech, who eats only the bare minimum, helps himself to seconds. The jug, you quickly learn, contains a berry-based alcohol sweeter than meiloorun; both you and Hunter down multiple cups.

“Dad, can we go down to the docks?” Lyana asks as soon as her plate is cleared.

Shep waves his hand with a glance at Hunter. There’s a slight flush high on Hunter’s cheeks, likely a combination of the drink and the setting sun, and he smiles in adoration at Omega’s pleading eyes.

“Be safe,” he says.

Cheering, Omega and Lyana bolt back out the wooden gate and disappear from view. Their giggles take longer to fade, but once they do, you find yourself studying Hunter once again. He looks...relaxed. Like island life has already sunk its hooks into him and drained all of his worries into the boundless ocean. You want to join him in his state of calm, but a lone worm of doubt remains, wriggling and insistent, in the pit of your stomach.

“So,” you begin, “stability.”

Shep turns his attention to you. Deep brown eyes meet yours steadily. “People only come to Pabu seeking a new life. A new beginning. As I said, we have limited resources; there is no real reason for the Empire to bother us here.”

“You haven’t met the Empire,” you say with a wry smile. “I want to believe you, I really do.”

“What’s holding you back?” Shep asks, his lilting voice soothing and grounding.

You hesitate. Shooting a miniscule glance to the others, you find Tech with his ear tilted towards you though his eyes remain fixated on his datapad; Wrecker picking at his teeth with a toothpick; and Hunter watching your conversation like a ball match. This is the opportunity you’ve been looking for, you know, the one you’ve been longing for without ever realizing what the ache in your chest meant. If you stay here, you have a higher chance of living the quiet, comfortable life that you and the squad deserve. The squad can stop being a ‘squad’ and start just being a family.

Sighing, you shrug, deflating. “Old habits.”

“I understand.” Shep rises from his seat. “You should tour the island. Perhaps that will put your worries at ease. Speak to the villagers, hear their stories. If you still have doubts, we can talk.”

Rolling the idea over in your mind for a long moment, you eventually nod. “Thank you.” Rising, you look down at yourself, but decide to leave the armor on. Never know if you’ll need the protection. Old habits truly do die hard.

“I’ll go with you,” Hunter says, standing as well. “Shep, thank you for hosting us. Everything was—”

“Amazing!” Wrecker interrupts. “I’m full! I’m never full.”

“I will note the date and time to commemorate such a momentous occasion,” Tech remarks.

“You...what?” Wrecker says.

Shaking your head in amusement, you step away from the table, Hunter a step behind you. You have no idea where to start, but the road from Shep’s home leads in one direction only, so you have no choice but to follow it as it winds down the slope. Tropical birds swoop overhead. Small green-gray primates chitter and scurry underfoot, freezing for a moment to stare with wide, blank eyes before darting off into the underbrush. It doesn’t take long for you to reach the first homes. Despite having just eaten, you can’t stop the way your mouth waters at the scents of spiced food, fresh-baked bread, and sweet desserts that waft to you.

“Thank you,” Hunter says as you pass by another row of houses.

You glance at him with a curious quirk of your brow. “For what?”

“What you said back there.” He gives a tight-lipped smile. “I want this to be real, too. But I have to consider every angle of the situation.”

Nodding, you let his words set in. Finding you have none to return, at least none that feel adequate, you simply reach your hand out. You lace your fingers through his, gloves sliding against gloves, but you can feel his warmth nonetheless. Some of the anxious knot in your chest unwind at the feeling.

Soft yellow porch lights begin to flicker on as the sun continues its inexorable descent to the horizon. The sky above you gently shifts hues, dazzling orange becoming painted purple becoming star-studded indigo. Walking hand-in-hand with Hunter down the quaint, even streets, you can almost imagine your life here, together, as a family.

A conversation from a nearby home becomes louder for a moment as the front door swings open. Curious, you turn to look, and find a small boy standing on the stoop. Dark hair cut close to his skin, his clothes are a little bit too big on his frame. He gives you both a wide smile and a wave before bounding off the stoop toward you.

“Hi!” he says. Even in the low light, you can see the gaps in his gums where his baby teeth have begun to fall out. “You’re the new people!”

Chuckling, you lower yourself to one knee to get on his level. “That’s right. How’d you know?”

He points back toward the top of the island. “New people always bring new ships.”

“That makes sense,” you say. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Min.” He beams, chest puffing out. “I’m the oldest!”

“Were you born here, Min?” you ask.

Shaking his head, he says, “No, but Ma brought me here when I was still a baby. She says I’m prac’ly from Pabu, which she likes because she didn’t like our old home.” He looks between you and Hunter, and his eyes widen. “Whoa! Is that a tattoo?”

Hunter chuckles and mirrors your pose. Min studies Hunter’s face with wide-eyed rapture, his jaw hanging open.

“That’s so cool,” he says, awe filling his voice.

“You should see the rest,” you say.

Min’s round eyes dart between both of you before he turns and sprints back towards his house. “Ma! Ma, guess what!” He yanks the front door open and disappears inside.

You find Hunter already staring at you when you glance at him. The look on his face is peculiar, pensive and hopeful and some other emotion you can’t identify in the low light. “What?”

“Nothing.” He shakes his head and stands, then holds his hand out to help you up. “Just...thinking.”

You hum. “Well, whenever you want to share those thoughts, I’m here.”

Twining your hands together again, Hunter tugs you along, moving farther and farther down the mountainside. Every few switchbacks, you pause to talk to someone: an old man who only recently relocated here with his adult daughter, who has seen the Empire up close and personal and says he’s never felt safer in his life than here on Pabu; a middle-aged woman and her wife, who have been here since the dawn of the Clone Wars, and who express some anxiety over the Empire but who firmly believe that Pabu is protected by its seclusion; and half a dozen more who all express similar sentiments.

By the time that you and Hunter reach the beach, the sun has taken all her light with her, leaving the island blanketed in full night. Stars twinkle in the dark sky. Waves crash against the shore, rhythmic and calming, the world’s heartbeat. You feel no need to rush. Even if taking your time feels foreign, you remind yourself there is no mission to complete, there is no mission to begin, there is just you and Hunter and the waves.

“So,” he says.

“So,” you echo.

His hooked nose is in sharp profile against the lights dotted across the island’s flanks when you glance at him. Broad shoulders and narrow waist, strong arms that just a few hours ago were holding you close in the hold of your ship. Your body warms at the memory.

With a soft chuckle, Hunter slows to a stop, forcing you to do the same. Lifting his free hand, he brushes his knuckles over your cheekbone. You can’t resist the impulse to nuzzle into his touch, eyes sliding shut, a contented sigh soughing from your lungs.

“I think we should stay,” he says, voice barely loud enough to hear over the crashing waves.

You nod, eyes still shut. “I agree. Everyone here... They seem convinced they’re safe. Every single one of them.”

“They’re either brainwashed or being genuine,” he muses.

You snort out a laugh. “If that’s brainwashing, how do I sign up?”

His fingers catch at the back of your neck, and you don’t have time to react before his lips are on yours. Sighing, you wrap your free arm around his broad shoulders. The noise of the beach fades as you embrace one another, mouths moving in sync, lips molding to one another like you were made for this. Your heart beats against your sternum, hard and demanding to be acknowledged.

“Are you okay?” he mumbles against your lips.

“Stars, yes,” you say. “Are you?”

Humming, he presses you closer, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. “Your heart. S’loud.”

Face flushing with embarrassment, you break away from him to gaze up into his darkened eyes. Forcing yourself to keep an even tone, you ask, “Is it a distraction?”

He blinks at you in confusion. “No.”

“Oh.”

“Was I supposed to say yes?” he asks.

You laugh lightly, relaxing. “No, sorry. I just—your senses. Do I ever overwhelm you?”

“All the time,” comes his immediate response. But the way he says it, like he’s grateful for your presence, for the way that you must flood his system and torture him, gives you pause. Your own confusion must show on your face because he continues, “You’re my safety net. Your scent, your heartbeat, your body’s electromagnetic impulses, all of it is...” He huffs a laugh. “I can’t get enough of you, cyare.”

Face warming for an entirely different reason, you do your best to ignore the way your core flutters with excitement at his admission. “So it’s okay for me to...I don’t know, sleep in your bunk without permission?”

He nods.

“And if I wanted to maybe wear your shirt and give it back, would that be acceptable?”

Jaw working, he nods again.

You press your luck and decide to ask one more. “And if I wanted to know how to make sure you can smell, feel, sense me for hours, what would you say?”

He gasps sharply through his nose, eyes studying your face intently. He seems to find whatever he’s looking for. Using his hand still around your neck, he tilts your head to the side, lowering his head to skim the tip of his nose up your sensitive skin. You feel the cool inhale of breath as a shiver dances up your spine. Your own breath caught in your throat, all you can do is stand there, trembling in his embrace, as he draws in your scent. You nearly whimper at the press of rough lips to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, the bite of his fingers as they tighten on your body, the low growl that vibrates from his chest.

And then he pulls back, breathing heavily. “Does that answer your question?”

Blinking, you can only nod. You open your mouth to respond, but no sound comes out, coherent thought having fled your capabilities.

Hunter chuckles and flashes a smug smirk. You want to be mad at the expression, but given that your knees are still shaky and that your brain is doing a hard reset, you can’t find it in you to hold it against him.

Tucking you against his side, your armor clatters together as he gently guides you back along the beach the way you came. The two of you move slowly; you can only imagine that he’s as reluctant for this private, stolen moment to end as you are.

So you dig in your heels, sinking into the damp sand. “We don’t have to go back yet.”

He looks down at you with a half smile. “The others—”

“—can comm us if anything comes up,” you finish for him. “C’mon. Sit with me. Talk with me.”

He watches in quiet amusement as you extricate yourself from his strong arms and plop down into the sand. Stretching your legs out, you pat the ground next to you, giving him your best pleading eyes.

“Sir, yes, sir,” he teases, lowering himself next to you, legs crossed at the ankle. “What do you wanna talk about?”

You beam at him, mind flashing to the holoscans back on your ship. “Everything. Anything. If we’re staying here, I want to get to know you better, not the sergeant.”

The look he gives you is so openly grateful that it steals your breath away.

Taglist: @the-hexfiles @fjordg @idoubleswearimawriter @thorsterstrudle @skellymom @dystopicjumpsuit @sinfulsalutations @starrylothcat @523rdrebel @freesia-writes @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @moonlightwarriorqueen @blueink-bluesoul @littlemissmanga @idontgetanysleep if I missed you I'm so sorry, I'll be working on a taglist form so that I can properly tag folks lol

#hunter x reader #hunter x gn!reader #tbb hunter x reader #rhiwrites #second chances #the bad batch x reader #tbb x reader

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fandomtrashrat · 7 months

Text

Whispers of the Heart

Solas//Lavellan

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Note: This is my first written work but I’m so excited to share it! Enjoy ★彡

When she woke up, the ghost of his lips haunted her.

For a fleeting moment, Lavellan wondered if what had transpired in the fade was the result of a desire demon, one that had preyed on her innermost thoughts and had conjured such an illusion. She admitted to herself that she might have considered bargaining with such a demon for just a few more moments. However, his voice resonated in her mind, disruputing her reverie.

“We shouldn’t...it isn’t right, not even here,” Solas admonished softly.

“Wake up.”

She felt a blush tinge her cheeks as she reached up to touch her lips, memories flooding back. Yet, warmth mingled with worry, a turbulent mix settling in her stomach. What happens now? His remorse was apparent, but it couldn't change what had occurred. While this wasn't Lavellan's first venture into matters of the heart, it felt as if she were navigating these emotions for the very first time. With her mind and heart racing, a sudden knock echoed at the door.

"Inquisitor! Are you intending to spend the entire day in bed?" Cassandra's voice boomed from beyond the door. "Have you honestly forgotten our plan to journey to the Western Approach today?" Well, shit.

“I’m almost ready Cassandra! I’ll be out in just a moment!” She could hear Cassandra’s groan as she descended down the steps of the chamber. In a rush, she hastily reached for her armor, each piece fitting to her form as if second skin. Lavellan snatched her staff, fingers finding comfort in its familiar grip, as she rushed down the steps of her chambers. Stepping into the halls of Skyhold, she was met with warmth and laughter from her people. She spotted Dorian and Bull in the corner together; from an outsider's perspective it may have seemed as though they were arguing, but Lavellan noticed Bull’s smirk and the glint in Dorian’s eye. Varric was spotted near the fireplace, eating breakfast and telling stories to some of the children. She couldn’t find Cassandra, much to her relief, and decided to start walking towards the front door.

“Hey, Inquisitor! I was just telling these refugees how you killed a high dragon..with only one arrow,” Varric grinned mischievously. Lavellan chuckled at the embellishment, she knew better than to try to correct the writer, doing so would only fuel him to make the story even more exaggerated. “I also saw Cassandra coming from your chambers, I could’ve sworn that I saw smoke coming out of her ears. Know anything about that?”

"Cassandra? Well, you know how she is," she said with a nervous smile, “Anyways, are you still coming to the Western Approach with us?”

“Shit, I forgot to tell you, but there’s some business back in Kirkwall that I have to attend to. So I’ll be gone for the next week or so, but hey! I got Chuckles to fill in for me.” There was a pause. Varric kept talking but Lavellan couldn’t hear anything except her beating heart. She figured that she would have plenty of time to calculate her next move with Solas, but fate had different plans. Before she was able to respond, Bull walked past them both, carrying supplies and weapons for the journey.

“You coming or what Boss? If both of us are late, the Seeker will hang us”. Lavellan hesitated for a moment, torn between her duty as Inquisitor and her feelings for Solas. Bull’s voice broke through her inner turmoil, and she couldn’t help but chuckle at his joke, as it waved through the intensity of her emotions.

“Alright Bull. Lead the way,” she replied, giving Varric a small smile. With each step that she took with Bull towards the entrance of Skyhold, Lavellan couldn’t shake the memories of her encounter with Solas. It was a feeling she would carry, a puzzle to unravel when the time was right; for now, the weight of her duty was her priority. Going down the steps of the courtyard, she sees soldiers mounting their horses, carrying supplies to the carts, and saying their farewells to their loved ones. She spots Cassandra, saddling up her horse and looking around before adding a book into her satchel. Bull walks ahead of Lavellan, adding his supplies to the cart. She stops at the bottom of the steps and breathes in. For the first time since Haven, she felt at peace, and for a moment, a voice in her head says home.

“Sleep well?” Lavellan's heart skipped a beat as she turned to see Solas standing there, a relaxed smile on his face. She had hoped to escape his presence for just a little while longer, yet here he was.

"I suppose that depends on one's definition of 'well,'" she replied cautiously, her guard up, but her curiosity undeniable, “But I won’t deny that it was…nothing I had ever experienced before. On a number of levels.” He laughed, but not in a mocking or a teasing way; it was a laugh that was pure and free. His eyes crinkled at the corners, and his lips curled into a wide, infectious smile. Was his smile always this infectious? Regardless of the coldness of the mountains, it was suddenly very warm. Both of the elves smiled at each other, yet there was a shift in Solas’ demeanor; a barrier that suddenly went up.

“I apologize, I shouldn’t have—”

“Inquisitor Lavellan, if you wouldn't mind, I would like to leave sometime today,” Cassandra interrupted. Lavellan's heart sank at the shattered moment. She turned to face the stern Seeker, who clearly had no patience for any further delay. Solas and Lavellan exchanged a quick, knowing look as they quickly joined the others, leaving the warmth of their brief encounter behind.

As she mounted her horse, the rest of the Inquisition’s people loudly cheered and clapped as the party went forward towards their destination. It was only moments after they had exited the gates when Bull steered his horse towards Lavellan.

“So…you and Solas, huh?”

Elgar’nan guide me

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #solas #lavellan #solas dread wolf #solavellan #solas x lavellan #Solas/Lavellan #fanfic #dai #solas x female lavellan

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utilitycaster · 1 year

Note

It’s so interesting how spot-on you were with the thoughts about toxic Beaujes folxs fleeing to D20. The same person who’s been starting shit on twitter just found out that CR doesn’t allow mass-produced zines, and used that fact to make some batshit generalization about how “that’s why the fandom is corporatized and violent and racist towards any canon-contradicting fanon like all my beaujester friends told me and now I’m parroting it uncritically”.

So I think this might be my last post on this unless some more wild shit goes down (very possible) not because I disagree but just because I am also trying to be conscious of overshadowing my genuine excitement for The Ravening War. But yeah...like, I followed a few people who were CR fanartists until Beauyasha started happening and unfollowed them once that went down; it was extremely exhausting watching a bunch of (mostly white) people in their early 20s suddenly claim a show they'd watched over 200 episodes of was hopelessly problematic simply because their ship didn't happen. It was a truly vile combination of normal shipping drama plus appropriated social justice language about said shipping drama plus, as others have noted, middle-class white queer people [a demographic I fit into myself] shoving aside narratives about POC or working class people because they aren't explicitly queer narratives (or even narratives about queer people that aren't to their exact specifications of what queerness looks like; see people who refuse to respect Molly's pronouns or who erase Vax's bisexuality because he was primarily romantically involved with a woman).

The zine thing is fucking wild in particular for the following reasons:

The two CR-centric zines that person has mentioned as not ultimately moving forward were both zines that intended to pay the artists, ie, at least partially for profit rather than charity zines.

I am not personally in a creative industry but I've been reliably told by basically everyone who is that CR's policy is boilerplate.

CR has a pretty extensive history of showcasing and hiring fanartists; this is not opposition to fan content, which is how this wack job is attempting to portray it.

Similarly no one is devaluing fan content; they're just saying "you are throwing a big old hissy fit in public about the hypothetical scenario of The Ravening War not honoring a ship that has, and I am not joking here, six fics on Ao3 in total." (For reference: Lapin/Theo, a ship that person actively dislikes, has 56 works, which, idk I feel that's almost ten times as widely accepted fanlore.)

Their twitter currently is bragging about their cookbook zine (which as far as I know wasn't based in fanon but was just a cookbook with fanart in it) and not about their currently active charity zine (which is the one about Belizabeth and Citrina). Also that charity zine is available for free which really undercuts the "for charity" aspect. Anyway a cool thing to do is to not buy it, but just donate directly to the International Rescue Committee or your refugee-supporting charity of choice.

Anyway. This was an opportunity to rant a lot but I will leave you with this: I am not the right person, obviously, to enumerate every possible issue with CR's portrayal of characters of color nor the lack of diversity of the cast. I think discussions of racism and lack of representation in actual play are important to have. But it's telling that fanartists, specifically, who left CR over Beau and Jester not getting together but pretended this was about social justice, always seem to go to D20. Or NADDPod. Or Friends at the Table. Or have their art featured in the TAZ graphic novels. All majority white or entirely white main casts.

They rarely seem to go to, say, Rivals of Waterdeep, or Into the Motherlands, or Three Black Halflings (and those are still some of the better known examples, frankly). People complaining that Critical Role hates lesbians for having a lesbian relationship they didn't like never seem to check out The Broadswords, or use resources like this to find women-led actual play. It's about getting clicks; they want to find an existing fandom to adore them rather than use the power they claim to wield to popularize something underrated.

Anyway that's the last reason why I think I'm done for now: I think the best and most satisfying thing is to starve them of attention, and to enjoy the Ravening War and art and fic about it from fans who are happy to be here.

#answered #Anonymous

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