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agentsquirrelsgotrobots · 8 months

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@gelu-the-babosa-multiversal @kandicon

Wc: probably around 2-3k words. Sorry in advance.

When Optimus prayed for the cybertronian race to recover and repopulate, he didn't mean this.

He was woken up at midnight to Ratchet practically launching himself out of bed and out the door, a hissed command to go back to bed keeping him from running after his conjunx.

He wished Ratchet had rushed faster when he learned about what was so important that morning.

A pair of split spark twins caught in mid division was found in a tiny hot spot on Griffin Rock. They survived but merged back together, too weak to survive apart.

The prognosis was good, however, but Blades' reports of seeing a pair of strange and severely injured black and white creatures before having to drop everything to dust off his spark preserver and rush to save the fragile sparks.

Ratchet was at a loss. He steeled himself to the idea that the twins could be the rare techno-organic, and his training would barely be effective in the event of a critical emergency.

However, they were starting to diverge again, and this time, it looked like he would be tending to two sparks soon enough. He heard Blades come back from a call out and decided to get a quick nap on a cot next to the spark incubator he had brought with him.

Blades wasn't expecting to hear tapping coming from the inside of the incubator. At first, he just thought the old equipment just needed some maintenance.

Then black goo started to seep out of the seams and pool in the inside of the airtight incubator. That was when he woke up Ratchet.

The spark was gone.

In its place was a writhing mass of half formed limbs and two heads of white hair, their blue eyes flickering with sickly green light.

Long pointed ears were shoved into each other's mouths like makeshift pacifiers, and as Ratchet approached, a pair of intelligent eyes spotted him. A tiny fist, no bigger than Cody's, was waved in his direction, and Ratchet waved back before checking the camera feed and vitals. Boulder had relieved Blades long enough to get energon for the two medics, and on camera, Ratchet watched the spark start oozing black goo and two tiny skulls and spines plopped out, the bones sinking into the goo. The spark finally split and absorbed into the goo, the skulls floating back into view with glazed over eyes and a head of hair, a thin layer of skin barely visible against the bone.

Their vitals were much stronger than Ratchet was expecting, and he made a note to himself to give the two of them a physical exam by the end of the week.

It seemed that it was a set of male/female twins, just based on the barely skinned organs Ratchet could see in the goop. The more active one was male, and the female, whose vitals suggested she was still in an initial developmental stasis, was currently trying to bury itself into the good in its sleep, her brother using her body as a step stool not helping much.

Ratchet took a few samples of the black goo but already had an idea of what he would find. The creatures were humanoid techno-organics, likely monoformers, and shouldn't be taller than Ratchet's knee at the most. He went back to bed and told Blades that around the clock monitoring is no longer needed.

That morning, more tapping, and the sounds of palms hitting the incubator glass.

The twins were much bigger now, close to outgrowning their incubator. Both beings were growing around the same rate, and their vitals were strong, so Ratchet had Boulder come over so he could give them both their first physical.

Boulder cradled the female in his hand, cooing as she stretched and her tail lengthened, giving her his pinky to hold onto as she struggled to sit up without legs. She started to squeak and babble, the sounds becoming more and more complex as she and her twins speed ran the first eighteen months of human development while Boulder and Ratchet watched, thankful that they had the thought to install a camera for the duration of the appointment for later.

Instead of sending footage of cute techno-organic pups, it was watching the two being grow up right in front of them.

They stopped growing just around twenty months of age, the male twin already demonstrating that they already had a range of vocabulary by noisily rambling about Boulder's alt mode (he guessed by his feet, but Ratchet was quick to reward his attempts to talk)

They set the two of them down on a blanket, Boulder cleaning the incubator while Ratchet sat with the twins and watched them in the playpen Dani dug out of storage as a joke but forgot to put away.

"M-mister?" Dani squeaked, adorably tripping over her Ts and Rs, the Rs being replaced with a D sound. "Wha-What's you-ya-your na-n-name?" She said to Ratchet, who had traded the two with Boulder.

"My name is Ratchet. Do you have a name, little ones?"

"Da- da-dan-danny. With a Y." Danny was laying on his back, trying to catch his tail.

"Hey! My name is Dani too. No, not exactly. There's a little more? Dani-el? Danielle? No, I don't like that. Da-ni-el-lle. El. Ellie! Ellie, that's my name! Danny, Danny, I figured it out! We are Dannies!"

"DannyDaniDan-niDa-ni-el-le," the two of them chanted. Danny rolled around on his bum and let out a surprised squeak when he was able to roll himself into a kneel without touching the ground. Ellie leaned forward, her tain splitting into legs, and got onto her knees too, and had to grab her as she nearly maimed her brother with tiny white retractable claws that Ratchet could barely see as she fell forward.

Ratchet helped her balance on her feet, surprised as she took a few wobbly steps before crawling back to her brother.

"Da-ny! Did ya see! I did it!"

"Do you know how you got here?" Boulder asked. He didn't think through the question well, but Dani didn't really care. She just wanted to talk.

"Well, Danny's core got broken and I got all melty so we fused each ot-her to-get-her so we can get back to Jazzy but then we fell in a portal and now we are here with yooooooooouuuuuu."

Dani was fading fast, and she sat down and laid down, drifting back to sleep. Danny crawled on top of her and stuffed his head into her hair, his body relaxing into sleep a few minutes later.

Ratchet woke up to Danny wailing, Ellie thankfully still asleep.

"Ratch! I know! I know! They gone ratch, they gone and -and bloody- and crying" Danny was sobbing, he had grown to be about eight overnight. Ratchet scooped up the child and walked into the main garage area, hoping that a walk might get the inconsolable boy back to sleep.

"Ra-ratch, they took em! They-they took em and lined em up and shot em one by one. First-First ma-mommy, then daddy-jacko, then - then- then JAZZZZZZZZZZZZY!"

Ratchet grunted as a supernatural shock wave assaulted his ears. "Danny, Danny, please, you are going to wake up the whole house. If you can calm down, and-"

"No but- but listen, then they burned-did dem with a fwame fwower and- and then then they sh-shot Dani and-and then I got all sad and - and my core got broke and - and then Clocky brought us here 'cause we need a st-sta-stable core to s-su-suvive, and this place had four! He said he would come back for us w-once we are st-stable." Ratchet could hear the sound of glass cracking, and quickly set Danny back with his sister. He knew from treating other split spark twins that the cracks in Danny's spark would heal with close contact with Ellie's. Danny curled up around his twin, and fell into a fitful sleep.

The first time Danny was allowed near the humans, of course, went horribly.

"No no no, no, noooooooo! No touch, no touch, that's how they got emmmmmm!" Danny screeched, floating out of Charlie's attempts to wipe away some of the inky gunk on his face, leftovers from crying. "I don't wanna let the guys in white n vans got you toooooooo. It's not illegal, you knowwwww."

"What do you mean by illegal? Can you sight the specific section where the killing of techno-organics is legal?"

"No, silly, we aren't tech-techno- or-organ-nicks. We are ghosties!"

"Ghost!" Ellie squeaked. She hadn't aged a day past three.

"Killing us is legal in Ar-kan-saw-us, Wis-wits-con-sin, and Ill-lon-now cause the Ec-Ect-Ecto-Acts." Danny explained, taking an offered juice box from Dani and slurping it loudly.

"The Ectoplasmic Entities Act? I thought it dealt with specialised hazardous waste in a few towns in the Midwest?"

"No, it's for mur-Der. Like- like Ellie's bwothers and sithsters. They got all melty like popsicles and-and I couldn't get them to to stay together. I could only fixed-ded Ellie, and she almost got melty too, but I souped' her and brought 'er to Frostbite and Clocky and they helped her with my help and then she went on a trip a'round the woooorrrld." Danny spun around with his arms outstretched to show the big grown ups and the human grown-ups how big the world was. He pouted when he slipped and fell on his bum, his bad mood lifted by the firefighter giving him candy and a red fire helmet and then the helicopter grown up let him watch TV with him.

After the apparently legal nature of the reason the two children were almost killed, Ratchet finally called his husband.

Optimus bowed his head respectively to the being currently cradling Ellie. He had arrived to the firehouse, reached out hold an adorable heap of cuddly ecto-entity, and got foiled by a being that radiated pure, ancient power.

He was still kinda mad that he didn't get to hold Ellie, considering she preferred her squishy, wriggly ghost form.

Optimus may be millions of years old, but this being in front of him was Ancient.

Time is like that, you know.

Supposedly, it, space, and matter had been born before Primus was even a thought.

The Matrix practically forced Optimus to bow to Time and his wards, the ghosts of balance, one with a meaning, an obsession, with travel and freedom, and one with protection and loyalty.

Optimus knew that he would have to yield to beings unique to humans, but to actually put that knowledge into practice, to know that he was an intruder, a guest in a supernatural sphere of influence, and his connection to the Matrix could leave him vulnerable to their power?

A chilling idea indeed.

But by both Danny's reaction, this was the Clocky Ratchet heard about.

He finally had to let the twins go, as the two of them had stopped growing and asked for Clockwork more and more.

A few months later, a sheepish 14 year old Danny thanked Ratchet for his help after he was done with his shift at the medical wing.

Dani legitimately had to start over, but Danny just needed some specialized care.

Ratchet simply smirked and kept walking.

#transformers rescue bots #danny phantom #dpxtf #dpxtfrb

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bloodycyrano · 2 months

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Coming Undone, a WIP BG3 fanfic following the events of the game as well as afterwards. I have big plans for future chapters, so stay tuned.

Pairing: Astarion/Durge

Chapter 2/6, "The Pale Elf"

We don't talk about chapter one, it sucks.

Tumblr edition (I edited it further because apparently three weeks of fine tuning wasn't enough and I wanted to change more)

Tags for the entire fic: Cannon-typical violence, Blood and gore, spoilers, slow burn, family drama, nonbinary durge, mentions of past abuse, found family troupe, mentions of homicide, graphic descriptions of homicide, eventual smut, I like to think I'm funny, fluff and angst, gender dysphoria, group shenanigans, Durge is a licensed therapist, character development, loss of limbs, slightly unhinged main character.

Please don't criticize me, I might throw up.

Disclaimer, I do not own the majority of the characters in this fic, nor do I own 80% of the storyline that is to come. Durge does not have the cannon background 100% because the backstory started writing itself before it even occurred to me the actual bhaalspawn logistics. That being said, it does follow 99% of it.

When I awoke, I could feel the fresh ocean waves just barely lapping at my feet, causing shivers to roll up my body despite where I laid out on the warm sand, sun beaming bright overhead..

I shielded my gaze, nose wrinkling in discomfort as my already light sensitive eyes were assaulted by the intense rays of late-spring sunshine..

With a sneer, I picked myself up, off of the sandy ground.. analyzing my surroundings for a moment.. Immediately, my gaze was locked on the wreckage of the nautiloid..

Well.. To my knowledge, not many people could say they crashed an alien ship before, let alone survived one.

I could've almost laughed if it not for the gravity of the situation weighing on my narrow shoulders..

I had half expected my memories to return once I had gained my freedom from the mind flayers ship, but the past few years were still an aching void..

If I didn't find a way to get the parasite out of my brain soon, I knew my future would be wiped clean before I even got a chance to recall any faded memories..

Gritting my teeth, I could feel my chipped nails digging into my palms. An eager feeling flourished in my gut, alongside my usual feeling of anxiety. Eager to fight. To regain my identity..

But first, I'd have to look around. Allies, clues.. Shadowheart and Lae'zel. Maybe find a healer who could remove this horrifying parasite.

I didn't know how long I had left before being transformed, and part of me didn't want to find out.. But still. I needed to know my fate.

I turned around, peering at my surroundings with an inquisitive gaze, hoping to find some sort of clue for how to proceed, or sign of immediate danger..

The wreckage of the nautiloid was all around. I suppose I didn't quite realize how big the ship was until that moment. Seeing the massive thing smashed along the grounds, smoke still rolling off of the partially flaming metal and writhing tentacles. It was somewhat intimidating to look at, I had to admit. But amidst the air of caution, there was a feeling of mystery as well that I couldn't ignore.

My anxious and eager feelings vanished as soon as they rose as I set my eyes on the ashy, rocky planes before me. Rubble and smoke clouding the beach.

When I turned, I could see a mangled fisherman up ahead, no doubt a casualty of the crash.

I felt a pull as I approached. A familiar smile tugging at my lips.

It was a warm feeling. One I had felt before.. Though, to my surprise, I felt perhaps I had become more used to this feeling than what I could merely remember a handful of times in my youth.

I felt a sort of yearning I couldn't yet explain as I stared down at the corpse. But in the back of my head, there was another thought that struck like a lingering miasma. The confused stupor I had found myself in was one that ached violently in my skull. I hated not having my memories, and it weighed heavily on me. What of my family? Had I seen them since I left home? Hurt them..?

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I pushed the thought aside. Allowing myself a few more moments of shameless enjoyment as I stood over the bloody cadaver; before moving forward.

A mere few feet away, I could spot Shadowheart, the cleric I had saved on the Mind Flayer ship..

She lay sprawled out on the ash-covered grounds, sand woven between strands of her long, bound, raven hair..

I took a moment to observe.. allowing my gaze to follow over her unconscious form and intricately patterned armor, before settling on her face.

Shadowhearts armor was similar in style to that of many clerics I had seen before, though the patterns etched and woven into the steel were foreign to me.

I wondered, for a moment, what sort of deity granted her divine powers. I had studied many topics in adolescence, including Clerics and the various cloisters surrounding Faerun, but I couldn't remember anything quite like this.

The armor she wore was heavy, and thick. Steel plate layered atop chainmail.

Despite how bulky most heavy armor was, the half elfs garb remained very feminine and almost sleek.

I never quite understood the need for aesthetically pleasing armor. At the end of the day, it was merely to keep you from sustaining fatal damage.

Regardless of my personal thoughts on the matter, however, I couldn't deny that her armor was not only effective, but also had an air of elegance and beauty.. It suited her.

She had sharper features, though they were softened by a sort of youthful naivety. Despite the shitty attitude she had towards Lae'zel on the ship, there was a kindness about her scarred face.

I took a moment longer to assess her for wounds. Unfortunately, if she had been injured in the crash, she would be of very little use to me.

Under closer inspection, I saw she bore no obvious injury. No blood, bruising, nor swelling of any sort.

Quickening my pace, I drew nearer, and could soon hear her sleep-clouded mumbling.. a sort of pleading.

Another thing is that I noticed she still held the metal object from the ship, clutched tightly in her right hand..

My curiosity spiked. I could've taken the item, simply to see what it was while she was incapacitated..

But no. I knew better than that. An ally is an ally, no matter how secretive they may be.

With a stiff and hesitant breath, I reached forward, giving her shoulder a light jostle..

I did my best to be gentle, though I knew my grip could be firm, and perhaps a bit careless at times.

Not like she'd be able to tell through her thick, metal shoulder guards, though.

Jolting awake, she took a deep breath in.. grip tightening on the relic she held as her vibrant green eyes popped open and scanned our surroundings, like sun stricken orbs of glimmering moldavite.

“You're alive,” she remarked, shock evident in her tone. “I'm alive… How is this possible?”

With a faint jingling of her chainmail, she did her best to covertly slip the mystery object into her pack; though her focus was clearly much more settled upon our surprising survival..

I sighed softly, running a hand through my messy and soot-stained hair.. “Doesn't matter,” I shrugged, “We made it. All we can do now is hope our luck doesn't run out.”

Shadowheart let out a faint hum of approval, nodding simply as she looked around..

“True, I suppose.. it seems we are the lucky ones, judging by all the corpses strewn about.” She mused..

“I remember the ship, I remember falling… Then nothing.”

I didn't see the point in retelling the obvious. Instead, I chose to remain task oriented.

“What happened to Lae'zel?” I asked, though reminding myself that the Warrior actually never introduced herself to Shadowheart.. “Our gith friend.”

She furrowed her brow at my clarification, tilting her head a bit as she gazed down at me. “You might want to reconsider calling her a friend-... Looks like she ran off without us.”

I shrugged, “It's not as though we can guarantee her safety. I know little of githyanki culture, but I know of their history with the mind flayers. She's probably terrified, and seeing as we're all infected..-” My voice trailed off as I caught her gaze- I was not typically silenced by a glare, but I knew when to shut up. Usually.

Shadowheart made no effort to hide her vague irritation at my ramblings, though she did not comment on it.

A soft sigh escaped my chest as I rolled my eyes, “Regardless, we should look for her. She may be injured.”

A very faint huff left her lips, though she seemed nearly amused, “You're more concerned for her than she is for you, clearly. We need to take care of ourselves.” She declared, “Firstly, we need supplies. Shelter. Perhaps most importantly, a healer.”

She spoke with determination, a clear view of what was to come next.

“We might have escaped, but we still have these little monsters in our heads.”

For a split second, I paused. My gut twisted with a sort of hesitance. Internally, I could feel myself pulling back. I guess even despite my intentions to keep my assets close, I still somewhat hoped to deal with this whole debacle on my own. “We?” I asked, masking my discomfort with an idle curiosity, “You intend to stay together?”

She simply nodded, gazing back at me with a sort of expectation. “We need each other, and we both know what's at stake. I can't think of better company.” She mused.

I knew she was right. And perhaps her company wouldn't be so awful, despite my general misanthropy.

“Alright,” I nodded, “let's get moving.”

Holding up a delicate hand, she halted me in place, “One thing, just before we go.” She started. Her voice was softer now, though perhaps there was a very very faint underlying tone of a sort of obligation. “I wanted to thank you again. For freeing me.. It would've been all too easy for you to run right past my pod, but you didn't. I'll remember that.”

Her gaze was unwavering, as well as her tone. Voice smooth and genuine. This was no ploy to gain my trust, but true gratitude.

I met it with a very soft smile, and a nod. “Of course,” I said, “Though you need not thank me. I'll admit, I saved you more for my own benefit than yours.”

She let out a faint chuckle at my honesty and nodded.. “Fair enough. Lead the way.”

A sort of relief washed over me. I didn't feel terribly uncomfortable in her presence, which was new for me. Perhaps she didn't make the greatest of first impressions, but I had to give her the benefit of the doubt, considering our mutual situation.

I navigated my way around the rubble.. glaring through the falling ash as I began to loot the bodies around us in search of supplies and anything else that may have been of use.

As I made my way forward, I noticed the water had changed as I strode upstream a bit. Brackish to fresh water.. Surely, we'd find a settlement nearby.

I knelt at the ruined docks, rifling through the backpack that sat at the edge, left most likely by one of the dead fishermen..

Beneath it sat a book. Leather bound, aged pages.. The smell of river water and old paper lingering on its materials..

‘Shanties of the Bitch Queen’

I didn't need to pick it up. It would only weigh me down over time.. But well, it's only one book. What damage could it really do?

I stuffed it into my pack.. Drow don't sleep anyways, unless persuaded by blunt force or impromptu drugging.. I'll need some reading material.

Shadowheart gave me a questioning glance, but she did not bother to ask. Simply following behind me..

I relished in the silence that befell us. It felt much more comfortable than needless prattle.

Continuing forth, I looted the dead bodies in our wake. Upon one, I found a note.. Nothing of interest, truly. And yet I still read it. A love letter, from a woman named Anna. She was asking the fisherman to run away with her..

I nearly gagged at the sugary words left on the folded paper. It was worn, but not old. The fisherman had read it and reread it over and over again, likely swooning or mulling over his options.

It mattered little now, however.

Despite my frank disrespect to the previous corpses, I decided to leave him with his precious note, along with the rest of his belongings.

I wondered if that's what he had been doing, before the crash. Going to meet Anna in Baldur's Gate..

The thoughts did little for me but to keep my mind occupied, away from any boredom or other distractions that may have crept in.

As I made my way around, I found that the only way forward was to go through the Steaming wreckage..

With a grimace, I made my way forward, alert to any threats that may have been.

Almost immediately, I noticed more of those little brain creatures..

Adorable.

I took a step closer, hoping that perhaps Us hopped among them.. But no. My heart sank a bit as I came to the conclusion that perhaps my squishy friend had perished in the wreck..

It wasn't long before the intellect devourers recognized our arrival near the scene, quickly springing to action..

These creatures were, much to my dismay, not allies.

With a grimace, I jumped back.. I had pause, heart beating quicker as I thought carefully about any possible way I could avoid killing the little creatures.

Regardless of how cute I may have seen them, though, I had to succumb to the inevitable as I dashed to avoid their attacks.

Shadowheart let out a strained grunt as she rose her shield to block a blow from one of the creatures, before swinging her mace back upon its soft and tender flesh

“What are you doing?” She snapped, “Hit the damn things!”

Frustration bubbled within my chest, but I knew she had reason to be irritated with me.

Noticing she was being surrounded, I ran forward.. bringing my left leg around, up, and straight down, driving my heel into the squishy brain-like critter.

It let out a loud, high pitched squeal of pain like nails screeching on a chalkboard as my foot managed to practically shred down the center of it.

Internally, I cringed at the sound. But I couldn't let it hold me back.

Without skipping a beat, I picked up the slimy carcass and threw it, full force, at the remaining intellect devourer.

Shadowheart took advantage of the creature's daze, swiftly shooting fire straight at it to finish the job.

She dropped her mace, bringing her hands together for a moment before fully extending them out as she said the incantation.

“Ignis!” She bellowed.

For a moment, her green eyes glowed a deep, purple tone as the flames shot from her palms.

As expected, the slimy creature fell with another ear-cringing squeal.

We took a moment to regain our breath.

I couldn't help but wonder what had gotten into me.

As a child, I was practiced in empty hand combat. But I was never that good at actually hitting my targets. Particularly not with that amount of instinct and accuracy..

I wondered what had come about in the last few years to cause such an improved technique. Even if I didn't remember further training, it seemed that my body did..

‘Holy shit, that was so badass..’ I thought to myself, though doing my best to maintain a cold and unbothered demeanor.

The cleric narrowed her eyes at me, pointed ears twitching slightly in a vague irritation, “Why did you hesitate?” She asked, taking a breath as she, herself, finally calmed her beating heart.

For a moment, I paused. I wondered if she didn't see what I saw, and how she could ask such a question that I felt was so obvious. Still, I turned to look at her, expression deadpanned. “They're cute,” I insisted, “What do you expect? It's like kicking a puppy.”

Shadowheart was.. Taken aback, to say the least. She made no effort to hide her disgust, wrinkling her nose slightly.

“Not exactly what I would call cute, Wren.” She shot back, “Make sure you don't freeze up like that in the future”

I wanted to come up with some snarky retort or snippy comment. But she was right - I mean, not about the creatures not being cute. For that, I think perhaps she may have hit her head harder than initially thought when she fell from the ship.

Still, I can't afford to hesitate like that when we're being attacked. It could cost us our lives, and I needed to be wary of it.

Regardless, my stubbornness got the better of me, with the help of her (warranted) shitty tone.

Thus, like a literal child, I opted to stick my tongue out at her and stick up my middle finger.

I wasn't particularly rude about it, or at least I hoped it didn't come off that way. It was more of a casual ‘Fuck you.’

She rolled her eyes, wordlessly gesturing for us to keep going on our way.

Tensions were high, and we knew that. There was no point in actually fighting over something so small as an attitude problem.

We carried on with little issue, looting the small area before once again finding ourselves in the sand.

If not for the nautiloid crash, or the startling absence of memories in my skull, perhaps the scenery would've been beautiful. But as sour as I felt, I could find no joy in the glimmering of the sunshine on the crisp, blue waters.

We looted a few crates by the waves, and turned to follow the dirt path uphill..

Upon reaching about halfway up the hill, a voice called out.

An elf, up at the top of the incline, with the complexion of a fucking snowman.

“You there! I need help!” He called out.

His tone was urgent, vaguely panic stricken, but controlled.. and just a smidge pretentious, like some twat nobleman.

Letting out a deep sigh from deep within my chest, I jogged up to meet the man.

I was in no particular hurry, but I figured it best to get it over with..

“Very well. What do you want?” I asked, arching a brow as I approached, Shadowheart following at my heel, though a few paces away still..

He stood in a somewhat crouched, defensive stance, peering off into the shrubbery with his hands readied at his sides.

“Hurry,” he urged. “I've got one of those.. brain things cornered.”

I cocked my head.. sure, he looked a bit like a pretty boy, but I saw no reason he couldn't handle one intellect devourer by himself- He was fully armed, for fucks sake. It's not hard.

Still, I pressed forward, attempting to look into the underbrush, where he was pointing.

The area was obscured with weeds and shrubbery.. tall grass, and a few saplings here and there grew thick at the edge of the short cliff.

“There, in the grass.” He said, “You can kill it, can't you? Like you killed the others.”

This alone was enough to give me pause. This meant he had been watching us, and I didn't know for quite how long since our wake.

I chewed softly at the inside of my cheek, deciding to give the man the benefit of the doubt..

After all, I had Shadowheart behind me, should anything happen.

“Easily,” I said, not bothering to keep the wariness from my voice as I stepped forward, towards the thicket of greenery. “Stand back.”

“There,” he pointed, getting a bit closer behind me as he did his best to show me where the creature was. “Can you see it?”

His voice lowered for a moment.. It was softer, almost mesmerizing. I figured he was just trying to be quieter, so not to startle the creature in the foliage.

I was wrong.

As I leaned over the small cliff, in search of the brain he had spoken about. A few seconds passed, and I could hear a faint rustling in the bushes. Perhaps the elf was being honest, after all. But this feeling of relief was short lived as a young wild boar came barreling out of the bushes, taking off in fear of my advance.

The elf closed in.

In a flash, he had his unexpectedly firm and solid arms around me and a dagger at my throat.

My eyes grew wide, and instinctively, I swept his supporting leg out from beneath him.

This, however, did not help the situation.

Even as we collided with the hard, dirt-covered ground, his grip held unrelentingly. Despite my efforts to escape, I found we had been in the same situation, the only difference being that we were just simply struggling about in the moss now.

I let out a stiff and forced grunt as I fought against his surprisingly strong grip and tried my best to force the dagger away from my throat.

“Shh..” he cooed, “Not a sound. Not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours.”

His words washed over me like pure silk, sending a fluttering feeling in my stomach. It brought a whole new level of discomfort; Almost lulling me into a sense of calm despite my situation.

“And you-” He snapped out, tone becoming somewhat harsh as he turned to glare at Shadowheart, who stood behind us with her hands up in a somewhat defensive position, ready to draw her weapon should it prove necessary.

“Keep your distance,” He remarked. “No need for this to get messy.”

She met him only with a bitter glare, crossing her arms over her plated chest.

“I need them alive.” She stated, her usually soft voice taking on a sort of forceful tone that reminded me of the attitude she had back on the nautiloid. “Stow that blade, or I'll show you just how messy things can get.”

The pale elf gave out a soft yet sarcastic chuckle, turning his full attention back to me, his annoyingly perfect, stark white hair falling just slightly in his face.

“Promises, promises. But I have other business, I'm afraid.” He mused..

His deep, wine red eyes locked on my own, gaze holding a sort of dominance as a triumphant smirk befell his face. “Now, I saw you on the ship, didn't I? Nod.”

His tone was dark. Commanding. He had me exactly where he wanted me, and it became increasingly obvious that he took a significant measure of pride in it.

My grip tightened around the blade as I tried to force it away from my neck, even still. Allowing it to lightly cut into my skin.. A single drop of my crimson blood trailed down the blade, falling onto my cheek.

I could feel the tips of my pointed ears heating up as he stared down at me, his gaze flickering to the speck of red for a split second- But that mere moment of distraction was all I needed

Despite his effects, I refused to let anyone get the better of me like this. Especially not some pretty boy blue blood with a vitamin D deficiency.

Grinding my teeth, I pushed him as hard as I could while throwing caution to the wind and driving my already aching skull hard against his forehead.

We collided. Hard.

He let out a grunt, putting his hand to his head in pain as we both rolled away from each other.

“Ugh! You wretched little-” His voice came to a higher pitch, a level of almost amusing disgruntlement oozing off of the man in a manner that could've made me laugh if it hadn't been for the pain I was also suffering as consequence of my clever escape.

As he got to his feet, that familiar swirling feeling clouded my brain. The parasite..

In a flash, I was looking through unfamiliar eyes, prowling dark and busy streets.

I did my best to hold the memory, curiosity urging me to see more. But it faded to the worm. The bright lights. The fear that I felt well in my gut, though I knew it was not my own.

The elf felt it, too. Another connection.

He clenched his jaw, sharp eyes widening in a sort of shock and confusion..

“What was that?” He demanded, “What's going on?”

For a second, I wondered if he could see inside my mind as well. I wondered if he could glimpse the same world I saw before being abducted, even if I could not remember it myself. As much as I wanted to know, I pushed it aside. There were more important things to deal with at the moment. Crossing my strong arms over my chest, I glared up at the man, aching a mistrustful brow. “Put the knife away, and I'll tell you everything.”

For a moment, he only broadened his stance, pulling his dagger up so that he was ready to strike, should he need to..

“I'm not an idiot.” He snapped, trying to put it together himself. “It has to be those tentacled monsters. Something they did…”

His voice trailed off, gaze faltering for a moment as he soon saw reason.

“They took you, too. I saw it during.. Whatever just happened,” he admitted, sheathing his blade.

He let out a soft chuckle, tilting his head a bit, “And here I was ready to decorate the ground with your innards,” he mused, gaze analyzing my own battered form for a moment, “Apologies.”

‘I saw it’, was what my brain caught on in the moment. Not only were my suspicions confirmed, but if I asked him, I realized he may be able to give me a clue to my missing past.

Still, as he continued, I couldn't help but to let a wry smile tug at my lips as I peered up at him- I could understand why he took the approach that he did. And even more, I could appreciate his humor.

“Can't blame you,” I said with a shrug, “I was quite looking forward to seeing yours.”

He gave a slightly amused laugh in response, nodding.. “A kindred spirit.. My name's Astarion,” he said, giving the slightest little bow of introduction, “I was in Baldur's Gate when those beasts snatched me.”

“You may call me Wren,” I mirrored, “I uh-.. I actually don't know where I was when I was captured.”

For a moment, he placed his hands on his hips, looking me up and down. “A pleasure,” he assured, “So. Do you know anything about these worms?”

With a grimace, I nodded. “Unfortunately, I do. They'll turn us into mind flayers.”

His brows knit tightly together in almost disbelief at first, eyes widening as it fully sunk in. “Turn us into-.. Ahah..”

His face almost looked mournful. With a bitter chuckle, he continued, briefly pressing his fingers to his temples.. “Of course, it'll turn me into a monster. What else did I expect..?” He muttered to himself. Before his deep eyes came aglow with what I could only assume was hope, just the slightest, faintest spark..

“Although.. It hasn't happened yet. If we can find an expert, someone that can control these things, there might still be time.”

I remained silent, allowing the man a moment to process before I continued, peering over my shoulder at Shadowheart for a moment, who stood with a very bored expression as she waited for me to finish up; though she still paid close attention to our conversation.

I had made up my mind already as I turned back to him, tilting my head as my gaze wandered over him once more.

“You should travel with me for the duration,” I said, “Our odds are better together. Clearly, you're quick with a blade, so I doubt you'd prove useless on our quest.”

He seemed almost surprised for a moment, though not unpleasantly so. And for half a second, he almost seemed to ponder it.

I took this very brief second to take note of his posture. Body language, demeanor. Though already taller than I, he held his head in a way that he would have to look down his nose at me, while it was not inherently disrespectful. It was thoughtful. Calculated. He was sizing me up, as any rational person would when deciding whether to follow a complete stranger or not.

“You know, I was ready to go this alone,” he mused as he took a small step forward, “But maybe sticking with the herd isn't such a bad idea. And you seem like a useful person to know.” He stated, as though thinking out loud before settling entirely on his answer, “Alright. I accept.” He said, giving a very slight bow of his head in respect. “Lead on.”

As he joined at my side, Shadowheart stepped closer, no longer keeping quite a distance..

My eyes lingered on him for a moment longer than I'd like to admit. And while perhaps a slim part of it was his natural charm and magnetism, I found it joined by much more prominent thoughts. Visions of how he might look covered in blood. How his own might taste on my tongue.. The way I would position his dead body, as though a work of art.

I hid my thoughts well. There was no daze, nor excessive staring, no pause of any sort. I didn't know whether this was because I was naturally inexpressive unless I forced a display of emotion, or because I was simply used to such thoughts by now. Perhaps it was even how I had to train my face in my youth not to give off any ill-accepted emotions, for fear of the yelling that would follow. Whatever the reason, I was certainly thankful for it.

While I would've loved to relish in the thoughts a mere moment longer, I forced it to a screeching halt as I turned to face Astarion.

Before even letting me speak, he arched a brow in surprise, as he was expecting us to simply continue on our way.. He gazed down at me with a somewhat amused smirk, “You have a manner of irresistible desperation about you,” he teased.

I opened my mouth to protest, a look of offense dawning my typically blank face- but he didn't allow me a word before finishing his thought. “I like it.”

With a scoff, my eyes narrowed into a glare as I stared up at him. “I merely wanted to ask a bit about you,” I spat. “Peace of mind, considering you nearly slit my throat.” I reminded him.

“Heh.. And what a shame that would've been.” He remarked, almost sarcastically though his tone remained playful and lighthearted.

Letting out a breath, Astarion turned to a more serious - though bored -demeanor. “Ah.. What's to tell, really? I'm a magistrate back in the city. It's all rather tedious,” he explained with a shrug.

I didn't know how much I believed that, if I'm being honest. I did not know what reason he may have to lie to me, but there was something about the man that just seemed somewhat.. Off to me.

Despite this, I had known my gut to be wrong before. Rarely, though it was. Everything gave me an uneasy feeling - a distrust.

I wrote it off as a natural skepticism, not bothering to pry any deeper.

Still, I nodded; giving the man another cursory glance before joining back beside Shadowheart.

I took note of Astarions blade, and the clothes he wore.. The dagger was sharp, though poor quality, and provided him with little range.. His garb, however, was of a much higher refinement. Thick leather, stitched to uphold the standards of the ostentatious finery one would find in noble households, and dyed luxuriously vibrant purple and fuschia. The velvet accents along the chest were embellished with golden embroidery, though if you looked just close enough; you could tell that the stitching on the design patterns were coming loose and slowly unraveling.

The shirt beneath his leathers had a very refined, ruffled white collar with accents of a striking red- which clashed with the rest of his ensemble.

I would've loved to say it suited him, but it didn't. In all honesty, it seemed to be lacking in perhaps one of the most expected qualities one would find in noble garments.

Style.

Perhaps I was biased, though. I didn't particularly care for such colour pallets, and it did little to compliment the most striking part of his distinguished face; His deep and wine red eyes.

Turning to our cleric, I pulled her aside. “Have you picked up any decent blades?” I asked, kneeling before her as I sat down my pack and began to search through it.

She chuckled, tilting her head a bit as she simply watched. “Not really. You've been quick to disarm nearly every cadaver we've come across thus far.” Her comment bore a sort of amusement, rather than any kind of irritation that her wording may have implied.

I merely nodded, not bothering to look back up at her as my eyes were fixed on the various weaponry I had nicked off of the corpses in question.

“Astarion’s an interesting find,” she mused, “Let's hope any future acquaintances don't hold a blade to your throat by way of introduction.”

I found amusement in her statement, chucking slightly as my eyes finally settled on a single blade. A long and slender rapier.

I hadn't the faintest idea as to how to use the weapon adequately in battle. But I had a feeling the pale elf would..

Peering back up at Shadowheart, I cracked half a crooked smile. “I don't know. That approach certainly makes an impression,” I told her.

She rolled her eyes, laughing quietly as she looked off, into the trees up ahead and the forked path we faced. “Just don't tell him that. I doubt he needs the encouragement.”

“You may be right,” I shrugged, pulling the blade out before latching my black, leather satchel shut once again. I eyed the uneven stitching for a moment, a fond memory rolling over my mind. Perhaps one of the most recent memories I could bring forth, though it happened years ago now.

I could remember my brother teaching me how to stitch thick and sturdy leather, without ruining it.. He was the only one who supported my decision to leave the underdark. I wondered how he was doing. If he remained with my family-.. Of course he did. He'd never abandon them. Not like I did.

I felt a twinge of stale, bitter disappointment in myself. I knew the environment I left them in, and still I did not stay.

It mattered little now, though. They were safer without me there and I knew it. And I had other matters to attend.

I rose to my feet, pushing the clouded memories from my mind as I turned back to Astarion, who watched my exchange with Shadowheart closely, though he could not make out our words.

A smile still dawned his face, though there was caution in his eyes. I couldn't blame him.

“Take this,” I instructed him, holding the rapier by the blade just an inch or so below the guard as I held it out to him.

For just a second, his gaze faltered. Flitting down to the weapon with just slightly widened eyes, before taking the handle.

I released the blade into his grasp, blank eyes looking back into his own as I gave him a nod, “It should aid you better than that old dagger.” I commented. “You can't be useful if you're dead.”

He clicked his tongue quietly against his pointed teeth, smirk broadening slightly as he peered back at me. “Hm.. I do suppose you're right.” He chuckled, maintaining his eye contact. His gaze almost seemed to bore into my own, as though he were staring at my very soul.

A sort of heat rose in my throat, though I chalked it up to the smoke from the nearby wreckage. In spite of this, the air was clear where we stood.

The man had an air of mystery about him, and I doubted his little dagger trick would be the last we saw of it.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 durge #astarion #dark urge #baldurs gate tav #gale dekarios #lae'zel #fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #a03 fanfic #fanfic #baldurs gate fanfiction #karlach #shadowheart #wyll ravengard #bg3 withers #don't ask me about chapter one

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colossal-fallout · 3 years

Text

Mercy ☄

Fem reader X Erwin Smith

Warnings ⚠️

NSFW. 18+ only. Smut. Slight daddy kink and slight degradation.

Tagging: @clovertitan & @jour-de-printemps I know someone is on my veteran tag list, but I've lost it. Please submit it again via the ask box.

You weren't sure exactly what you were doing.

It was as if you were on autopilot; your mind a haze as your heated, desperate body took over - possessed by the succubus demon residing deep within your soul. So much pent up sexual frustration has broken the barrier between your common sense and sheer hysteria. You'd been touch starved for weeks. Your lover far too busy at all times for such interactions. Especially this month with the upcoming expedition. You craved his touch, the firm yet gentle grasping of your flesh and how oh - so - attentive he was to your needs. How he's mapped your body, knowing every single week spot you have an exploiting them with a venomous greed; one nip from his fangs injects you with his own poison, paralysing you with lust.

Yet here you were, tears almost forming in your eyes from how hungry you were for him. For your lover. Who, as you approach the study, is just now behind that solid oak door.

And God, you could go on forever about how magical is cock is. So large and fat, built for nothing but giving pleasure and releasing his own pressures out from his large, testosterone filled sacks. Ones built for impregnation and nothing else. As soon as that large dick pushed its way into you for the first time, you were hooked. The sweetest dose of Heroine known to mankind as his shape dragged against your walls so perfectly, each push of his hips is like a small orgasm within themselves.

And yet... here you were almost a month without him. Your trembling fist ready to alert him of your presence outside of his office. Your thighs squeeze together as your warm, dripping cunt begs to be touched. Your panties stick to you uncomfortably, the thick liquid of your arousal slowly seeping through the cloth as you tap the door with your knuckles.

You don't know if you could take rejection. If he turns you down, you're not sure what you'll do. Scream? Cry? It was anyone's guess. All you know is you don't think you'll survive another night without his knowing invasions of your body.

"Enter."

Even just his low, rumbled voice sends vibrations through the air and between your legs as your breath hitches and you hurriedly enter inside the room.

His head snaps up from his paperwork - as if sensing who it was before locking his orbs onto your form; his thick brows raising in surprise.

"Your name, I wasn't expecting to see you tonight."

Your mouth opens, yet your reply is a choked silence. Asphyxiation entwined your throat as your once well constructed sale's pitch of your body turns to mush at the sight of his large form, the authoritative aura flowing off him and rolling across the room.

You silently close the door, not yet giving up as you approach him, your eyes already watering, begging him for mercy.

He waits patiently, sensing something was obviously wrong.

You crumble. Your plan in smouldering ruins as you slam both hands onto his desk.

"Erwin. I know you're busy. But please... God I need you. Take me. I'm begging you."

He blinks in perplexion for a moment, before his face rests into a smirk. A low chuckle vibrating his broad chest.

"You're that desperate, are you?"

The tone of his voice is a little cold. Cruel even. His own spark of lust igniting behind his ocean blues at the sight of you squirming so needing before him.

Sitting back in his chair, his large legs splay open, the hand that was free from his quill patting his thigh.

"Come. Let daddy make it all better."

Your elation at his words couldn't be hidden as you whimper almost pathetically; scurrying around and straddling his leg, his arm snaking around your lower back and gripping your hip.

"Go right ahead. Use me." He instructs as he refocused on his work.

You didn't care - you were just glad to have something of him; your hands grabbing his leather jacket as you immediately begin to rock your hips against his thigh. The warmth of him seeping up through your material and onto your twitching pussy as you grind, already panting like a bitch in heat. His thick, solid thigh feels so damn good against you, the muscle definition could be felt with easy through the cloth.

Your pleasure builds up pretty quick, your heated face burying into his chest as you whine, knuckles tightening and your breath hitches as his free arm absent mindedly begins to assist your movements.

"Oh, Erwin... Erwin..." you whisper as you glance down and see the buldge in his trousers growing bigger and bigger, snaking down his other thigh.

It's becoming increasingly harder to focus on his work; instead, opting to sit back and enjoy the view of you humping him like a pathetic little dog. Feeling a little pang of mercy, his fingers begin to unbutton your shirt at a painfully slow pace, your entire body aflame and begging to feel his touch.

Eventually he frees your breasts, his large, broad shoulders hunching over as he takes one into his warm mouth - your head throwing back as his wet muscle flicks your nub, sucking and nipping, your rhythm picking up and stuttering.

He removes his mouth, a string of saliva connecting his mouth to you for a moment as he sits back, holding your wrists and pulling your hands onto one of his leather leg straps of his uniform.

"I said use me."

You nod, holding onto the strap like a cruelly place rein on a steed as you use it as leverage to rock harder, his leg slowly raising and lowering you up and down as he watches with a clouded amusement.

"Ah, Erwin... I'm close..." you whine. "P-please, touch me again. Please..."

"You want me that bad, darling?" He sighs, thumbing your nipple.

"Yes!"

Your need for him reaches a critical breaking point.

Without another word, he grabs your hips and lifts you onto the desk with ease - pushing papers onto the floor as if he hadn't just spent all day carefully and meticulously keeping them neat and ordered. His large hand pushes you onto your back and before you could blink, he's pulling off your trousers and soaked panties off your legs - your pussy gleaming, overjoyed he's seeing to your needs.

Taking his two fingers, he slips them into your beckoning entrence, his mouth enclosing onto your clitoris, immediately sucking and assaulting it with his tongue.

Your hands grab at his perfect blonde strands, your climax immediate at his touch. It felt like you were swelling; larger and larger before you imploded.

You weren't sure what left your mouth, but it was something loud - swirling colours and sensations embraced your entirety, your body leaving this world for a few moments as your insides squeeze your lovers digits, filling his palm with a small puddle of your water.

An animalistic growl leaves his vocal chords at the sight of you; a total mess coming undone upon his desk. His tongue rolls over his lip in starvation as he removes himself, fiddling with his trousers and freeing his huge cock.

The smell of his precum snaps your hated attention - you could cry with elation that he was about to push his amazing dick into you.

"Good girl." He mutters as he presses his swollen head against you. "Nice and wet for me."

It's a tight fit as he slowly pushes into you. Your back bends and your mouth hangs into a silent scream as your insides slowly take him, ingesting him like some snake slowly digesting its large prey.

He's not even halfway in as he grunts, fingertips harshly digging into your thighs, head lowering with the overwhelming sensation of you pulling him in.

"You always look so pretty. But you look so much better with me splitting you open like this."

Every single spot within you is being hit, stretched and stimulated as that mystical dick finally is fully in you, pulling and pushing against your internal ridges. The desk begins to clank against the uneven flagstone flooring, but his grunts is all you care to focus on as his hips collide with yours again and again.

"So tight. So perfect, darling. I would never turn you down. All... ah~ all you had to do was ask... I'll gladly see to your needs, my love."

You whimper in response - it's all you can do as his shape pulls and pushes you, dragging along your walls perfectly as usual.

His name leaves your mouth as your eyes roll, the gratifying waves of your second climax faster approaching.

"Where do you want me to finish, darling?" He leans over, sliding his tongue into your mouth for a moment, catching your lips in a tender kiss. "I won't last long this time. You feel too good and it's been too long."

"F-fill me up, Erwin." Your eyes match your pleading tone as he nods, nuzzling into your neck, his tall form covering you with ease.

His pace quickens, hands now on either side of your head as he begins to groan, your orgasm hitting you just as hard as the first - sucking him in deeper. Your walls squeeze so tightly, he's clamped into place, his loud, gruff groan music to your ears as his thick, hot cum collides with your cervix, the huge unloading of Erwin Smith filling you so much so, you're leaking with his mess within moments.

You feel lighter, as if you were floating as you made your way back to your shared quaters, the sweet promise of more later tonight already having you a giddy mess. You were glad you didn't bump into anyone on the way back; your hair a mess and a mark already appearing on your neck. You weren't even sure when he did that.

Once again, you were well and truly fucked into oblivion, your insides sore from his size but already looking forward to later tonight...

#snk #attack on titan #snk imagines #snk season 4 #snk fandom #attack on titan x you #snk headcanons #snk smut #erwin smith #erwin x you #attack on titan erwin #erwin smith smut #snk erwin #erwin x y/n #erwin smut #erwin x fem #snk x reader #aot smut

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devi-nyx-elsword-theorist · 4 years

Text

Alright, I prep myself to make the post for a second for one of Eve's paths as we all know I adore Code Ultimate's path, I love-hate the Code: Sariel path now before you all grab your Adds, or whatever. Wait do the smaller part of the Adds in the Els community bugging Eve to this day? I don't hang out in most places in the game. Also this is my opinion

I still liked the path don't get me wrong but before, I was in a guild and this was when I had 2 Eve's one is a Code Nemesis and the other was the Code Battle Seraph as i was playing her path. Hooo boy " This class is easy" a guild member said, I mean it felt easy but realizing you had to spam like El Crystal Spectrum when it goes out but because I wasn't a Code Nemesis where whenever I got the chance to update my buff, it was waiting for the buff to end ( they made it now to switch from that to Electric Heart not at will that much but COOLDOWNS), but this was also the time where I barely did pvp this Aisha having Slow movement to where I socket my spar gear with Attack speed and Movement Jump speed, so I outspeed her and she got all rude because I had a little experience of the pvp setting plus freeze attribute. Yeah I asked a friend in guild for idea and they told me that, really, I should've experimented a bit but hey my skills were doing more of my damage when ready, but yeah a base level 12 Aisha just really wanted to beat a level 23 Code Electra, I was nice to tell her she can teleport when she gets up, and she didn't realize she had mp to fight back and evade me like all the other Aisha's but thats not what this is about, I'll make a post of the best kinds of people in pvp I met especially that Grand Master who wouldn't let me attack at all with a Crimson Avenger, I cann tell you all about it in the future.

but after CBS, oh my loooord I wanted to give up, but because it was still one of Eve's paths. So I gave up, so rest the class for years, until I asked here for some pro and cons. I played casually with my friend so we were even level of bossing and clearing, really spammed support with Critical Aura, El Crystal Spectrum Blue, Electric heart combined with Energy Needles while chugging MP potions. So really I loved just clearing waves after waves after waves until a good length of a straight line is Psychic Artillery. It is fun clearing thats only how I solved the situations in dungeons.

But now the part of hating the path is, aside from lagging especially in Sanders Secret dungeon that place is naturally laggy to my game, and friends currently as a host and on their own knows it is laggy for them to but side track already, CBS skill Thousand Star although I love the naming for it, you have to make contact for Mass Release to even use the skill but most CBS and CS have it up and not use mass release at all but it hits regardless when you attack, except its Mod counterpart where it will hit anyways as Mass Release. But the fact that, like I don't mind if people say its the best Eve class(because it can clear) but really, chugging MP and it will screw you over once or twice from my own solo experience as a Code Sariel like literally I knew but I wasn't expecting to pay for all of my Mana Potions more than my Potions, and then dying by mistake thats always fun, but in a light hearted note she was my first Eve to be third class before my Code: Empress and Code: Nemesis. Did I mention that my Code Sariel managed to survive Solace while my friends Lunatic Psyker kept getting whooped, that was fun to watch mostly until i spent my ressurection stones on him.

#Elsword #Elsword Eve #Another Code #code: electra #code: battle seraph #code: sariel #C:El #C:BS #C:S #CEL #CBS #CS #Devinrockx #Devinrockx moments #elsword liked disliked love-hate #Eve

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queerasinfvckyov · 6 years

Note

You're clearly not getting the other anon's message, so I'll try to explain what I understood of it. Harry doesn't EXPLICITLY SAY anything political. Ever. The only sort of political statement we had from him was that he'd vote for whoever was against Brexit but that he wasn't that well-versed on the matter (and he's been living in England almost exclusively for the past two years, which is when BLM arose). He doesn't do political statements on stage, not verbally. He never has and I don't 1

understand why people expect him to make a political statement now, and why specifically with BLM? Which is a subject that’s completely out of his reach as a British person that lives in London. He was never going to SAY anything about the signs, but I have no doubts that if given a flag, he would wave it, because I absolutely believe he’s for the sentiment of BLM. He wasn’t given a flag. There was a flag folded and thrown on stage, to a side Harry was NOT on towards the end of the show 2

but I seriously doubt he even saw it, and if he did, he couldn’t have possibly known it was a BLM flag (look at the picture of it thrown on stage and you’ll see it’s 1. on the other side of where he was 2. folded so it’s impossible to see what it says). I absolutely understand the outrage towards fans that didn’t show the solidarity to bring the flag to the front, which they always do with rainbow flags. That’s something to point out. The poor girl that organised this movement had to throw 3

it by herself and it was really hard to get him to notice it, and it shouldn’t have been. Harry grabs flags that fans are waving in the front row, only once he picked up one from the floor (and it was very clear it was a rainbow flag, and it was by his feet). I just don’t understand the outrage towards Harry. He said he doesn’t do politics. You can dislike that, and that has been discussed to death, but his position on that subject is clear. He’s for equality as a fundamental right, but 4

refuses to discuss politics and I just don’t think that’s a problem. When he wanted to make a statement against Washington’s position about trans people in the military, he hung trans flags, he didn’t say anything. This is his style. Why are we attacking him for doing what he’s always done? Let’s get mad with the fans that aren’t doing what they’re supposed to, not with Harry. If someone waves a BLM flag in the front rows, and he sees it and he ignores it, then that’d be valid criticism 5 (fin)

Before I get into this I would appreciate if in the future you didn’t call into question my reading comprehension ability. I understood what the ask said, and I expect you mean well (at least I hope so) but I don’t need you to clarify it for me. I wasn’t confused.

So let’s get into it.

Harry doesn’t EXPLICITLY SAY anything political. Ever.

Believe me, I am fully aware that Harry doesn’t typically verbalize his political beliefs. I’ve never bothered to discuss it on the blog but I’ve rambled plenty in private conversations about it (and the boys’ politics more generally). In fact, I spent the better part of the day doing just that. I am aware of Harry’s approach to politics and the place politics has re: the image he wants to present of himself to his fans.

Except. Except, except, except.

He does make political statements. He’s made them for a while now, even if mostly inelegantly (which I certainly do not begrudge him; he didn’t do his A levels and he certainly hasn’t gone to post-secondary where a lot of people figure out how to convey these complex ideas). It started off with him telling people not to go to Seaworld. Why? Because they treat animals with cruelty. Now, animals are ‘easy mode’, so to speak, when it comes to politics. People generally all agree that animals are deserving of certain rights and should be treated well. This doesn’t seem like a political statement but regardless it is (eg, look at the laws that are being changed in the States re: shooting hibernating bears or the support for fox hunts in Britain; these pertain to the treatment of animals and they are also political). I acknowledge that this might seem to be irrelevant and small, but as I said, it’s a starting point.

Moving forward, Harry has also on multiple occasions even BEFORE his solo tour acknowledge the queer community and queer rights. He’s acknowledged on twitter (yes, it might not have been him, but it doesn’t matter because it’s was still approved by his team and allowed to be part of his public image) the Westboro Baptist Chruch protesting the One Direction concert (a statement that specifically denounced them, if perhaps vaguely). Furthermore, let’s not forget about “lets have a good equal time” or “It’s looking colourful in here, and for some of you I know why. Happy Pride.” (this might not be the exact quote, but it was along these lines). And what about the picture of the rainbow flag and the rainbow on his instagram the day same-sex marriage was legalized in the States? And we can’t forget his “I study rainbows” tweet and bracelet or the odd rainbow flags he was already waving around during OTRA.

These are ALL political statements and, with the exception of the tweets and instagram posts, they were all done on stage–but regardless all done on public forums. If Harry didn’t engage with politics he wouldn’t have made any of these statements whatsoever.

(also, it’s a little pedantic, but BLM has been a “thing” for a little over 3 years now, not two; it’ll be four next august).

He never has and I don’tunderstand why people expect him to make a political statement now, and why specifically with BLM?

As I mentioned in the ask, I don’t get the impression that people were expecting him to acknowledge the signs or wave the flag, but they were hoping he would do so and, as I mentioned in my answer to the previous ask, I expect it’s because he’s been so adamant to create safe spaces for the queer fans. By waving those flags and making damn sure his concerts are a safe space for queer fans he’s making a political statement. He’s drawing his line in the sand, so to speak, and that line is that he won’t tolerate any kind of discrimination towards queer fans at his concerts. He opens up his concerts by saying that he wants people to have fun and “be whoever you want to be”. That is a political statement.

Ever since that show in Nashville where people’s flags were confiscated, and Harry brought one out for the encore (whether it was his own or one of the fans’ confiscated ones) and stated that he was bringing it back to where it belonged, his waving of the many pride flags has been entirely political. It was a political statement before, of course, at the first two shows, but it was made all the more so after that show. His insistence on always waving a flag, no matter the circumstances, is a political statement, too.

So why did people specifically want a BLM flag? Because Harry has made damn sure his concerts are safe spaces for queer fans–or, as I mentioned in the previous ask too, his concerts and wherever else he feels like it (the Hollywood Bowl We Can Survive concert was certainly not his own concert, but he made it a safe space anyway). Black fans (and poc fans more generally) exist without being queer. Why is Harry willing to get political with various queer pride flags but not BLM flags?

Which is a subject that’s completely out of his reach as a British person that lives in London. He was never going to SAY anything about the signs, but I have no doubts that if given a flag, he would wave it, because I absolutely believe he’s for the sentiment of BLM.

People have every right to hope he would have, and be disappointed that the political statements he’s willing to make as things stand now, if vaguely, seem to extend only as far as queer solidarity. And, in the words of a dear friend of mine: “ no one wants harry to draft a 20 point policy on how we begin to eliminate mass incarceration?? It’s actually real simple: acknowledge our existence”. That’s all people were hoping he would do. And once more, as I mentioned in my previous ask, that’s all he would have had to do–acknowledge the signs were there.

The issue, of course, is that based on the fan accounts we have so far, he was aware of the signs, and there is evidence in videos that there was at least one sign in the front row dead centre in support of BLM. He didn’t mention them.

He wasn’t given a flag. There was a flag folded and thrown on stage, to a side Harry was NOT on towards the end of the show but I seriously doubt he even saw it, and if he did, he couldn’t have possibly known it was a BLM flag (look at the picture of it thrown on stage and you’ll see it’s 1. on the other side of where he was 2. folded so it’s impossible to see what it says).

He very well might not have seen it. The flag is dark and so was the stage, and as I’ve seen some people say around here they weren’t even aware BLM had a flag. It’s quite possible that if he had known what to be looking for he would have been able to see the flag.

However.

He also didn’t pay attention to the people that were apparently shouting about the flag being on stage. I admit this could be down to the general confusion and screaming that happens at concerts. Yet there were, apparently, a good handful of fans shouting about the flags and the signs even when it was quiet, and it should have been easier to hear then. Of course, if he wasn’t expecting people to be talking about the BLM at the concert he probably wasn’t primed to make the connection, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that there were signs in the front row and all he had to do was acknowledge they were there, even obliquely as he typically is with politics. He did not, and people have are allowed to be disappointed and disheartened.

I absolutely understand the outrage towards fans that didn’t show the solidarity to bring the flag to the front, which they always do with rainbow flags. That’s something to point out. The poor girl that organised this movement had to throw it by herself and it was really hard to get him to notice it, and it shouldn’t have been.

I’m glad we’re in agreement about the poor behaviour on the parts of the fans there, and I and many others have been discussing how the other fans there (especially the ones who accepted the signs and then did nothing) are also responsible for the how things went. It seems like people were being ridiculously pushy and unaccommodating in the pit with one another as well. So much for treat people with kindness.

I just don’t understand the outrage towards Harry.

As I’ve said before, people are outraged because they feel hurt and disappointed (although I don’t think there’s hatred). Resentment, perhaps, but what else could you honestly expect? Black folk and the black fans in this fandom in particular are tired. And who the fuck could blame them? When this is the kind of fallout that occurs in response to a project with the sole purpose of creating a safe space for black fans and poc fans more generally? Like Harry has been doing for 15 shows +1 for queer fans since his tour began. They’re tired that even in this fandom, in the concerts of somebody who cares so deeply about equality and treating others with kindness, it’s still SUCH a fight just to be given the same treatment as the others have been given.

He said he doesn’t do politics. You can dislike that, and that has been discussed to death, but his position on that subject is clear. He’s for equality as a fundamental right, but refuses to discuss politics and I just don’t think that’s a problem.

I do, of course, take issue with that. Whether he likes it or not, he is in a position of power and privilege and if he desires to think of himself as an ally he has a responsibility to do what he can with his power and privilege to be an ally. I don’t think anybody is expecting him to be an activist (I certainly am not), but he’s really not even doing the bare minimum in a lot of areas–like with BLM. As for seeing equality as a fundamental right, it’s a sweet thought, but the issue is that things he might consider to be non-issues and not up for debate are, unfortunately, inherently political in the current state of the world. If he’s for equality he must take some kind of stand against inequality, otherwise he is being permissive towards the institutional nature of many inequalities (in this case, racial inequality). Silence is violence, because silence is what allows inequality to perpetuate. You cannot be for equality and also refuse to “do politics”.

When he wanted to make a statement against Washington’s position about trans people in the military, he hung trans flags, he didn’t say anything. This is his style.

Unfortunately I’m going to have to be pedantic again here. First of all, this is contradicting what you mentioned earlier about Harry not explicitly saying anything political ever and also that the only somewhat political statement he made was about Brexit. If you mean the Brexit statement was the only one he verbalized and that he doesn’t typically verbalize political statements, sure, but if you think the only way to be political and make explicit political statements is if you say them verbally I’m afraid I’m going to have to tell you to do some more research (and I don’t mean that maliciously). In fact, I would argue that most political statements are not done verbally but conveyed through via other means–particularly, through action. Look at the way we treat politicians: we only really believe them when they show us they mean what they say, which is done through implementation of policies–through action. Or, conversely, through inaction.

Why are we attacking him for doing what he’s always done? Let’s get mad with the fans that aren’t doing what they’re supposed to, not with Harry. If someone waves a BLM flag in the front rows, and he sees it and he ignores it, then that’d be valid criticism.

Firstly, I don’t like the way you’re talking about people’s response to what happened at the concert here. People aren’t “attacking” him. They’re expressing their frustration and their upset and their disappointment, and every single one of those emotional responses is valid. I don’t know if you’re white, but I certainly am, and not a single one of us white people–or even other poc fans, for that matter–have any right to say anything about the way the black fans (and other poc fans, if they are feeling similarly) are reacting to this. As a white person, I have no fucking clue, not a single one, about what it means to exist as a black person in the world to day and I and we other non-black fans don’t possess a single shred of authority about how people should feel and react to Harry’s lack of support for BLM (when, again, he has put the effort into being supportive for queer fans–which is definitely amazing, don’t get me wrong; as a queer fan it means a lot to me, but black fans and poc fans deserve the same) and validation of and solidarity with the black fans.

Secondly, as I mentioned before in this ask and in the previous one, people are calling out the fans. That doesn’t mean people can’t also expect better of Harry. These aren’t “haters” or whatever you want to call them who are calling out the fans at the concert and Harry. These are other fans who want the fandom and Harry to improve and do better because they care, and because they have a right to expect and hope for better. Black lives matter. Black fans just want people to actually act like they do.

#harry's politics #1d #holo on tour #harry in london #harry styles #blm #god this was long #long post #racism #social justice thing #not putting it under a cut though #anon feel free to send more asks or to not #but i won't be answering them tonight #it's almost 230am and i have classes tomorrow #or well later today #mine #Anonymous

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