#⟨ ⋅ * ✽ / ‹ imogen. › introduction ! ⟩

[nightwingshero]

WIP Wednesday (Late Again)

I was tagged by the amazing @detectivelokis thank you hun!

Tagging: @jinfromyarikawa @sstewyhosseini @marivenah @river-ward @simonxriley @playstationmademe @chazz-anova @voidika @shegetsburned @aceghosts @glowwormsmith @madparadoxum @ghastlyrider @direwombat @strafethesesinners @vampireninjabunnies-blog @poisonedtruth @ri-a-rose

tw: blood and violence, just Wren being Wren honestly. 

My jaw ticked as I glared down at her, but her face was made of stone—pure marble as she looked back with her cold blue eyes. “So you’re the one that set that fucking thing loose? That fucking monster that ran around the damn police station, the fucking—”

“The T-00 Tyrant, the Nemesis project, yes I’m quite aware of my work, Ms. Blake.” Imogen Edwards didn’t flinch when she spoke of it, nor did she blink as she shifted, crossing her ankles under the table as she carefully interlocked her fingers—her nails perfectly manicured and painted red—and rested them on the metal table. The glass of water remained untouched and ignored. “If you brought me just to go through every little file regarding the work relevant to any project that I’ve had a hand in, we will be here for a long time.”

I couldn’t tell what pissed me off more—her lack of empathy or the fact that even if her hands were covered in blood, she still looked so perfectly put together. A white button up with a black skirt and blazer, she didn’t look detained by Chris, she looked as if she had just stepped out of the office. “People died in that city, only a handful of people actually survived what you and Umbrella did—”

“And as I said to your overly muscled brute of a colleague, I was explicit in my orders to shut down certain projects due to lack of profit and the overconsumption of resources. Dr. Ainsley Spencer and I spoke in length over the phone regarding it. I wonder, when you were offering her sanctuary to correct her ‘sins’, if she perhaps mentioned that.” I froze and stared at the woman sitting at the table. The metal chrome wasn’t complementary by far, but she still sat like a queen, her head high and shoulders back. As if this was a regular meeting—as if she wasn’t the reason so many of us went through hell. The redhead sighed and rolled her eyes, the first show of emotion since I had stormed into the room and continued with a condescending tone. “That means it was costing too much money and—”

“I know what it fucking means.” I snapped. My hands began to shake as the anger, the guilt, the memories came flooding back. We had looked so hard for her; Chris was so set on getting her so that we could get more information—bring her to justice and get her to cooperate. That was the goal. But I seethed as the emotions got the best of me, images that I had tried so hard to forget came right back to the surface. “Innocent people died because of what you did—”

“Innocent people died due to carelessness of the professionals in charge of the subjects—the professionalism was quite lacking in Dr. Birkin himself as he became unstable. However I don’t expect you to understand things that are clearly above you—”

“And the people you experimented on?” I asked, my tone calmly edged as I took a step closer to the table. “The people in the hospitals? The people you took in for experimental treatment—what about them? What were they, huh?” Guilt ripped through me, but that only fueled my anger. Images of the day we had sat in the hospital and signed the papers, only to see him for the last time as something else entirely.

As if reading my thoughts, Imogen leaned forward with a smug glint in her eyes with a ghost of a smile playing at the corner of her mouth. “No profit, no results, useless. Waste of valuable resources and a damn waste of my time, most of them were dying anyway. They were expendable. It would have been comforting to know that their sacrifice meant something, but nothing came from the information we received from them or the testing we performed on them. I goddamn waste of time—”

It only took a second for my hand to reach out and clutch a fistful of her hair before swiftly, with all my strength, slamming her face against the metal table. A loud crunch sounded with the bang that echoed off the thick walls lined with tile and a one-way mirror. I could almost feel the panic and hear the yelling as they scrambled outside, and it was only another second before Chris burst in the room and grabbed me, pulling me away from her as blood pooled around her. As soon as my grip was released, she raised her head, blood pouring down her nose, dripping onto the table and her shirt, the red spreading quickly through the expensive fabric. She barely flinched, but her eyes blazed.

“Fuck you, fuck you!” I yelled as I fought against Chris, desperate to finish what I started.

“Wren, enough! Let it go!” Chris called, but he just went ignored as Jill and Carlos rushed in, hovering at the door as they watched in shock.

“Do you always treat people like this? So barbaric and unbecoming, what would your father say, Ms. Blake?” I choked as I stared at her, but she just offered a bloodstained smile in return. “Stephen Blake, early to mid-sixties, diagnosed with a disease that was rare even by our standards. I remember his case being quite abnormal.”

Tears fell as I glared at her, hating her and wanting nothing more than to claw her eyes out. “You fucking bitch, you killed him! You turned him into a fucking monster after promising to help him, you—”

“And did you read the fine print, Ms. Blake? When you signed the papers that gave us permission to your father’s dying body, did you or did you not read the contract?” Imogen scoffed, specks of blood spraying over the table. “You signed him over to us, you were told that it was experimental treatment with great risks, and you signed without even reading it, didn’t you? Come now, who really is at fault for the death of your father? The company that attempted to make his last months’ worth something or the daughter that was so tired of him, she shifted responsibility to the first person that offered her a pen?”

[guiltswept]

( willa fitzgerald. cis woman. she/her. ) - let me introduce you to a member of the eversley family, imogen eversley is the eldest daughter. they are thirty-two and are known as the magnet to the family because they are effervescent, capricious, and prodigal. when you get to know them, you think about a swan drowned in its own pond and its sprawled, feathered halo floating in the dirtied water; leaning precariously against a balcony banister as a lover takes delight, numb to the ongoings of the party below. but they’re still an eversley, nonetheless. this character is penned by: (james. 25. est. they/them).

content warning for... teenage pregnancy, adoption mentions, and implied domestic abuse ( nondescript ).

profile.

full name — imogen thomasin radcliffe eversley.

nickname(s) — gen, ginny ( family only ).

place of birth — hampshire, england, united kingdom.

date of birth & age — february 24th, 1992. thirty2.

gender / pronouns — cis woman, she/her.

sexuality — bisexual.

occupation — fashion designer; failed. violinist; failed. painter; failed. art connoisseur. socialite. world traveler. philanthropist. winery board member.

astrology — pisces sun / scorpio moon / cancer rising.

labels — the magnet ( others considered: the robin / the thespian / the philanthropist / the fervor / the hedonist / the illustrious ).

residence — eversley estate ( previous residence: radcliffe manor, yorkshire ).

traits — worldly, vindictive, sanctimonious, resplendent, prodigal, wanton, blasé, sumptuous, capricious, grandiose, indulgent, inconsiderate, self - serving, condescending, effervescent

interests — non - profits; and smiling for the cameras. silks, furs, pearls. cashmere. parties; dancing - switching from partner to partner. partaking in a fifteen - step selfcare routine every morning and a twenty - step selfcare routine every evening. red lipstick. cigarettes, cigars; the occasional vape and the occasional joint. the occasional bump. sweet red wines. the summertime the french countryside. idle gossip; innocent flirtation. sharing a bed. hoarding her wealth. club music. the occasional argument. breaking things; particularly glass.

aversions — cheap fabric and fast fashion. american beer. others being privy to her outbursts. losing; admitting defeat. others disagreeing with her. things outside of her control. losing her voice. being an embarrassment; being caught off - guard. sparkling juices ( go big or go home? ). the texture of velvet. the concept of golf. being perceived in a way she wouldn't like to be. grocery shopping. bicycles. when produce is older than a few days ( it's not fresh if it wasn't picked that morning ). poor weather.

most played — a mistake by fiona apple.

notable features — meticulously curled blonde hair, purposefully disheveled with each manicured finger that runs through it; bright green eyes that spark arguments whenever they're referenced as hazel, like - get a grip.

general disposition — a practiced litheness to every movement; a head held high, and sanguinity that nearly feels forced.

character study — daisy buchanan ( the great gatsby ) & marie antoinette ( marie antoinette ) & holly golightly ( breakfast at tiffany's ) & emma woodhouse ( emma ).

background & events.

being the second born means being the second best; and imogen eversley would spend the entirety of her childhood overcompensating for it. if the eldest were anything like their father, then imogen was like their mother. or - she tried to emulate the matriarch, to the very best of her ability. elegance, grace; a certain poise that she couldn't imitate, no matter how hard she tried.

it had always been clear to imogen that she'd never be their parents' favorite; god knows the competition was stiff. she tried anyways; picked up hobby after hobby, only to be met with a natural mediocrity that even the finest tutors couldn't teach out of her. she met each failure with anger, with frustration; with tears and screams, echoed throughout her childhood bedroom, void of comfort. never publicly - never in front of her family. her own private tantrums; all for herself.

however splintered, shattered her own ego may be - imogen always graced the corridors of their home with a practiced smile; practiced grace, practiced elegance, a practiced caricature of ignes. never her own person - just mimicking those she wanted to be.

the only time she felt - herself, truly and wholly, was in her teenaged years - with the son of one of their estates' staff. their secret meetings became the only thing imogen truly looked forward to; the only place where she could be stripped of her façade, where she wasn't an eversley, but just imogen. and then she fell pregnant.

teen pregnancy; the first person she told was her aunt cressida; more alike than imogen would've cared to admit - partial shame in the fact, partial fear that it only affirmed that she'd never be like their mother. aunt cressida brought comfort; brought everything she knew not to expect once her parents found out about her pregnancy.

adoption mention; she was right, of course. as soon as the news was broken to them ( rumors floating the corridors, whispers among the staff, the averted gaze from who she supposed would be her child's paternal grandparent ) - imogen was whisked away. gone for a year, without a single trace. a special abroad program, her parents would tell their friends, their family; her own siblings. the year stretched like a decade; lasted like a second - both forever, and instant. a blur. naturally, she didn't keep the child; its adoption had been set up the moment she left the estate.

imogen returned to eversley estate a year later, and nothing has ever been the same since. a tighter leash, and a gaze in her parents' eyes that only affirmed her worst fears. she was a disappointment; and once that opinion was held - it would never change. she leapt at the chance to go to university far away; an actual abroad program that would take her out from the estate, that would lessen the grip around her throat.

the degree is useless; something art or philosophy related, pretentious, and incredibly imogen. she spends her time in different european cities, writing essays on philosophers she doesn't care about - on art she doesn't understand; drinking into the early hours of the morning, arguing beliefs she doesn't hold while being peppered in drunken kisses from people she's met the same day. when she graduates university - not much changes.

years pass - and imogen's rarely been back to the estate. sometimes for the holidays, but sometimes it's a postcard from whichever island she's decided to spend christmas at. she's been around the globe at least three times; sometimes she stays in a country for months at a time, sometimes days. everything is up to her own whim - and she still chases the euphoric high her first love gave her. technically, henry radcliffe is her twenty eighth love, but numbers are arbitrary.

they marry almost as soon as they meet, their relationship only months in, but his family's of wealth almost equal to her own, and of course it must be fate that they, two wealthy brits, meet in bora bora of all places ( fork found in kitchen ). it's an extravagant wedding, held on the radcliffe property ( maybe it's the hurt in imogen's heart, but she refuses to have it at the vineyard ) and an attraction for both family and friends to gawk at.

implied domestic abuse; the first year is dreamy; or maybe imogen's head is just in the clouds - but it plummets quick. it becomes increasingly apparent that henry is not the man imogen thought he was. that his honeyed words were just that - honeyed. sweet enough to soften... everything. she knows she has to get out - that whatever their marriage became wasn't love, not anymore. she knows - she has to contact charles. she has to contact her father.

and charles eversley handles it. what he does, or rather, who does it for him - imogen doesn't know. all she knows is that henry's on an indefinite work trip, and that she's packing her bags and moving back into her childhood bedroom for the time being. part of her is - surprised at the swiftness. that she'd been helped at all. part of her is waiting for the catch. there's always a catch, isn't there?

introspection & details.

in childhood, imogen was an overbearing, wannabe overachiever who just managed to achieve. she's always felt like a part of hector's shadow, lurking only a few paces behind him. her ego's always been incredibly fragile; and it doesn't take much for her to break.

is prone to fits, or outbursts - or breakdowns; whichever takes fancy. it's when she becomes - so overwhelmed by the stress and weight of - everything, that she just completely shuts down. often resorts to violence - has broken many of her own possessions in her childhood. she's always hidden her outbursts - and has gotten better at managing them. for the most part.

in fact, she hides all of the... unsavory parts of her well. her demeanor is always languid, lithe - relaxed and unconcerned with the estates' happenings. on the inside, she's biting her nails until blood draws.

she loves to host parties; loves to mingle with others, loves the attention - loves to chat, especially when it's meaningless. especially when she can talk about herself. has hosted many charity galas, mostly for that purpose. and for the orphans! always for the orphans!

she's extremely socially unaware; most worldly topics escape her, despite her numerous travels. she can get away with it for the most part. it also doesn't help that she's - patronizing at best, thinking she's above most because of the money she's raised and donated for charity ( even if some of them are just fronts ).

imogen doesn't know how much bananas cost at the grocery store. or most produce for that matter. maybe the most likely out of her siblings to just throw a wad of money at something and assume it's exactly paid for.

unironically downloads and pays for those video skit apps that always have ads on tiktok like "i'm the fated luna to my professor, the alpha king!". unironically enjoys them. is also prone to terrible, terrible romance books. the littler the plot, and the greater the smut - the better. hasn't read nonfiction since university.

many were surprised when imogen first married ( though, naturally she's now - separated? divorced? widowed? ) because of her... habit of acquiring multiple lovers at a time. she's never been a long - term person, not since her first love. even now, back at the estate - imogen may or may not be involved with a few family friends... or staff. they always say old habits die hard.

extremely charismatic when she wants to be; has a deep, inner need to be loved and admired. hates being alone for too long - has a tendency to drink by herself, which either causes havoc or causes her to spiral.

selfish and narcissistic; will always think about herself first ( besides her family... sometimes ) and is a strong believer of selfcare days ( where she does nothing but lounge by the pool ). she's terrified of getting older - of looking old; is terrified of the day where she becomes undesirable, and therefore truly worth nothing.

[exterastris]

( BRIANNE HOWEY , 33 , SHE/HER , CIS WOMAN ) - have you seen IMOGEN BARTOWSKI?  they’ve been living in everwood for THEIR ENTIRE LIFE and they still don’t know the truth. people say that they’re GENUINE but i heard they’re WILLFUL. you can always find them at LEO’S GARDEN or working as an OWNER OF NANA’S KITCHEN. rumor has it they are a SHIFTER (FLYING SQUIRREL) and MEMBER of the SHIFTER COMMUNITY but i wouldn’t dare to ask them. a few things that remind me of them are … fresh cut flowers in eclectic planters, dreams of soaring through the air, the familiar hum of a country classic, family recipes and secrets written in polish, a strong woman raised by other strong women

BIOGRAPHY — 

[demisexualemmaswan]

so I decided to rewatch campaign 3 from the beginning because I actually thinking going back to catch up is going to be the most effective way for me to do this so I won't have to stop

but.

I'm on Laudna and Imogen's introduction, right?

And while we now know Laudna's considerable use of 'darling' was actually a Vex thing (Damn u Marisha Ray)

it's so funny that marisha and laura thought these were just Gals Being Pals

Laudna literally has a different cadence in her voice when calling for Imogen

[that-ari-blogger]

Critical Role's Cameraman

So, Critical Role (@criticalrole) just released their newest opening title sequence, an animated sequence in the same style of Your Turn To Roll and I would be remis as a film nerd to not pick apart every detail.

What fascinates me about this introduction, however, is the camera movement and shot composition. Allow me to explain.

I DONT THINK THERE ARE SPOILERS AHEAD, BUT JUST TO BE SAFE

So, we open with a hand, this is a close up, I don't think that is unobvious.

But this stops being a close up rather quickly, before it starts moving away. The shot just gives the hand context, and suddenly you aren't in an extreme close up of a hand, you are in a medium shot of a very large person. Then the camera pans backwards, and you can see villains and places spring up, although the perspective on Matt remains weird. Is he a few metres from you, or a hundred? How big is the Game Master here? There's a sense of mystery, of incomprehension. This is setting up some cosmic horror shenaniganry.

Then, we get Fearne. This is a wide camera motion, swivelling around her in a tracking shot that focuses on her face, and those eyes. It is like a reverse panorama, where Fearne is taking in the world, the world is observing Fearne.

But I want you to take note of the leaves here, because they are used to form a connection between her and Orym. The transition uses them, while it isn't a direct wipe transition (the leaf just flies close to mask an abrupt cut), it is framed as one. The name of that isn't important, though, what's important is the leaves. By being in both shots, they emphasise the relationship between the two characters. But where for Fearn they show off her sense of wonder, for Orym, they take on a very different meaning.

Notice, however, how still this shot is. There is no sense of danger here. This is a scene of a warrior with a sword and two people passing on from this world. But it's calm. Because this is a memory. Orym might not be at peace with the death, but the memory isn't a violent one, it's a memory of his family's lives.

Cut to a close up. Orym creates a gust of wind.

And cut to the next shot.

I will not lie, Bertrand is my favourite character across all of Critical Role, so this shot of him made me smile, but it isn't the point here. The point is Imogen's introduction.

Although is Bertrand not actually the point? Because take a look at how Imogen is shown here. Do you notice anything?

She's shown in the exact same way. Imogen is shown doing the exact same thing that those who have died have done. And she can see them ahead of her. The camera panning back shows a wider perspective here, showing her as she tries to run, tries to get away from the same path as Bertrand.

The wind from Orym's blade that came to this scene gets across a consistent element: Memory. This is a dream. But dreams can become nightmares.

As Imogen loses her footing, the camera gives some of its wildest movements yet. It tumbles around her, then looks up.

The camera stops moving when it sees the red moon, because now the viewer has something to orientate themselves around. There is a constant point, and we can see Imogen falling down. And getting closer, and closer, and closer, until.

These are the three frames in order, there is nothing in between.

Imogen crashes into the screen, and we get an abrupt impact frame (that's the black and white one) then Ashton. This is so cool to watch, in my opinion, but it is quite possibly the opposite of smooth in camera work. So why is it so cool? Motion.

The motion is in towards Imogen and out away from Ashton. They are both falling, just in different directions. And the impact frame both helps smooth over and accentuate the abrupt transition.

The camera around Ashton is a tracking shot. They are falling, but they remain the exact same in the screen (shrinking slightly). The rest of the world moves. And when Ashton lands, the screen cracks. The tracking shot is used to show Ashton's disassociation with their surroundings. Not in a "I feel nothing" type of way, but in a "it's me vs the world" type of way.

Then, there is an abrupt cut away. Nothing hides or smooths this at all, because Ashton's memory isn't smooth, and neither is Ashton. Remember the disassociating thing I mentioned, now it changes again to someone who gets lost in his thoughts. Medium.com calls this an "anxiety stare" and as someone who does that on the regular, I can attest to this abruptness being exactly what that feels like.

I'm not going to talk too much about the ship, but just be aware that there is a Dutch angle (the horison is diagonal) here to heighten the stress of it.

Likewise with this shot, there isn't much to talk about. The slow outward zoom and triangular composition are neat, and the tiered reactions (bottom row reacts, then middle, then Fearne) are amusing, but other than that, not much.

Then we meet Laudna, playing with Pate and giving him life. That's a neat little shot, I wonder if there's a metaphor there.

Oh.

This is a super cool visual because it establishes exactly who this character is in two seconds. But I also want to point out the symmetry of this. The hair becomes the blood which becomes the hair again, and then the tree.

Laudna is introduced as big and scary and imposing, and that is very intentionally undercut by making her look small.

Being small means you are less likely to be the focal character, so shrinking Laudna takes away her agency. Only to give it back through Imogen, and when the camera pans back outwards, Laudna is the same size, but the colours and the surroundings make her feel less alone, and as a weird result of that, less small.

And last but not least in this moment, there is the delayed drop of the hands. Laudna finally feels safe and finally breathes a sigh of relief.

That, however, imediately match cuts to this. FCG's vision. The red tinting has obvious implications that I don't need to explain, but the match cut heavily implies a connection between this group and the Bells Hells. There is a fear that this might happen again made clear by a single transition.

Here's something else. FCG doesn't move. At least, the camera doesn't treat them as moving. It's a slow panning out as if nothing is happening. It's the disassociation vibe that you get from Ashton's falling shots now repurposed to someone who isn't in control of their own actions. This is what FCG is afraid of, this is the important pieces of his character. This is FCG.

And just like Laudna, FCG finally gains agency when surrounded by their friends who hug them, and FCG finally moves.

Chetney Pock O'Pea, outlaw of the RTA, alpha of his own heart. A fundamentally chaotic character who takes rules as suggestions to be intentionally ignored. A man who's first instinct upon meeting you is to consider how you could be killed. And he is introduced whittling, with a steady camera and warm light illuminating his face. This is a peaceful side of Chetney, there is a duality to him.

Speaking of which, notice how Chetney draws back from the light as he transforms. His eyes begin to glow, but they don't illuminate him, until this:

Chetney is now backlit by the cold light of the moon itself (There's a neat reveal of Ruidus caused by the pan, but that's only tangentially relevant). Notice how much further you are from him here than in his first shot. But notice how much of him is visible, and how much of the screen he takes up. It's the same, this is still the same character. It's a true Doctor Jeckyl and Mr Hyde character. This isn't split personality, but a character who can be a different person in each form, while still remaining Chetney at all times.

There is more in this video. I encourage you to watch it, but unfortunately, Tumblr has a limit on how many images I can include, so I will leave you with this final shot. A group of heroes looking up at a threat that is so much bigger than them, a threat that is literally controlling the light. But the Bells Hells are closer to the camera, they take up more of the screen. The battle isn't lost, instead, it is just starting.

[edelgarfield]

here we see the face journey of a man realizing his boyfriend sent him to babysit a bunch of idiots.

this happens less than four minutes after Seth's introduction.

Transcript below the cut (pulled from YouTube w/ a few edits for clarity)

Chetney: Do you know what they've done with the furniture at the [Cerberus Assembly?] Chetney: A lot of it's mine. Imogen: You did the furniture? Chetney: Yeah. It's okay. Seth: I am not familiar with such furniture, my apologies. Chetney: I'm sure that someone's making good use of it. Imogen: Oh yeah. Seth: Of course. Matt: He pulls out a pair of glasses and puts them on. Robbie, Marisha, & Laura: (laugh) Ashton: I'm sorry, Chet. I'm sorry. Laura: This is what breaks Chet. Fearne: That were— Chetney: I feel used. Seth: (sighs) Well.

[its-your-mind]

Some Thoughts on the importance of physical touch and connection for the Hells: A reflection on the new animated intro.

In general, I think the Hells are a really strange and special group, especially for a dnd party. They pretty much laid all their baggage on the table within the first week of meeting each other (What the Fuck is Up With That?) almost as a litmus test: "hey, here's all the shit that comes with being me, last chance to run away if that's too much."

and none of them did. and they all kept choosing to stay, even as shit got even weirder and more and more disturbing answers came to light. I think that continued choice from all of them - to stay - is what makes the bonds between the Hells so deep and so special.

okay trauma analysis and party dynamics is a DIFFERENT POST but it was all RELEVANT INTRODUCTION bc the CHOOSING TO STAY and the KNOWING EACH OTHERS' SHIT are like. key components to understanding why I am so feral about this. okay hopefully you will understand. the body of my essay is below. it has pictures. it got... too long. so. it went under a read more. yw. anyway click below if you want a very detailed analysis of an animated intro that is literally only one minute and thirty seconds long

For the first bit, character intros for Fearne, Orym, Imogen, Ashton, there’s no physical contact.

BUT. First intro of hells as a team. Ashton Trauma Flashback interrupted by laudna approaching slowly from beside him with her hand gently in front of him to signal her presence without startling him, and THEN just talking at them. Bringing him out of those flashbacks. Reminding him where he is and who he’s with.

And tbh? For Ashton? Touch is always iffy, so this is almost a more understanding and kind way to bring them out of the flashback. Just physical presence is good! UNLESS. (unless) first actual touch. Fearne stealing their coin purse, so gently that they don’t even notice it (FLIRTING THROUGH THEFT callowmoore my beloved)

(also grabbed the cap that shows her with his coinpurse these fucking ANIMATORS)

okay pt 2 FLYING OFF THE AIRSHIP

Ashton's first instinct and priority is grab laudna’s hand bc he KNOWS she is made of paper mache and he is ALWAYS watching out for her out of the corner of his eye bc she is breakable and he’s not gonna let her break bc he KNOWS what it’s like to be breakable and need someone to catch you when you’re falling but ANYWAY. he grabs her he uses his hammer as a fulcrum to throw her at Imogen

because OF COURSE he knows that the safest and most comfortable space for laudna is in imogen’s arms. and the two of them wrap their arms around each other and hold tight Superman style bc ofc they do and once laudna is in imogen’s arms she’s absolutely delighted by this whole situation bc OFC SHE IS

(tf do you mean I can’t add more than ten images on mobile UGH fine I’ll finish writing then draft and move to PC the images are IMPORTANT TO MY POINT anyway insert lesbians here) (note from future mind: I have decided that these pic descriptions i left for myself to grab the right images are fucking hilarious so they’re staying in yw)

Then fearne (who had been on her way in that direction already) swoops under Ashton to catch him as he flips over from the momentum so he can land on her giant bird back and she can fly him away.

(Pics: It’s fine to touch Ash if you’re saving their life)

(also not pictured: chet staying on the ship but losing his hat, orym grabbing it out of the air, imogen casting fly on fcg right before she catches laudna, fcg flying over to grab orym) All of this happens in six seconds by the way. One round of combat. These animators are fucking incredible.

BACK TO CHARACTER INTROS laudna who is ofc alone and in the dark at the bottom of the Sun tree, reliving her past…

(Pic: sad lonely laudna)

right up until Imogen puts her head on her shoulder, and the darkness burns away into light. She doesn’t say anything, or talk with laudna - all it takes is that physical reminder that she’s not alone anymore, that there is warmth, that she is surrounded by a family who loves her so much they chose to turn down comfortable beds in a lord’s manor so that they could join her in sleeping at the bottom of the Sun Tree. (Fav lil detail - fearne wrapped around Orym like he’s a teddy bear, and holding tight to laudna’s blanket to make sure she can’t go anywhere.)

(Pics: THE POWER OF LESBIANS AND FOUND FAMILY)

fcg. Fuck. Starts with their flashback, with their red eyes and their buzzsaw, but almost immediately we see Ashton reach out to grab their shoulder and Orym whip out a vine to tie up their saw.

(pics: reaching out even if it might hurt youuuuu)

Imogen goes on her knees and wraps her arms around FCG’s other side, and the rest of them all gather around him, holding him to keep him and each other safe, but mostly just grounding him in the present by surrounding him physically until the flashback fades and he’s once more aware of his surroundings.

(Pics: what the fuck they just need to be held)

(once shit has calmed down fearne uses this opportunity to pick Ashton’s pocket again. Flirting through theft).

(Pic: fearne is a menace to society)

final fight scene. fuck yes.

(Pic: IT’S THURSDAY NIIIIIIIIIIIGHT)

This is mostly just giving all of them room to be badasses (as they deserve) - but there are some things!! First!!

(pics: THESE WITCHES BE BITCHES minus fearne sry fearne we miss u but you are on fire and laudna is made of wood currently)

Imogen and laudna casting spells back to back, trusting each other to take care of what’s on their side. Inseparable, even in a battle where their party has scattered to fight other enemies.

BUT. The BIG thing though in this sequence. Maybe my favorite part? Idk I don’t have a favorite. But!! Orym. taking out four of Otohan’s shadow knights. then facing off against her personally!! And it’s one-on-one, because this was Orym’s task alone - to find the person who attacked his leader and killed his family. He’s angry, but mostly he’s honed-in and focused and determined. This is his mission.

(Pics: WHO’S JUST A LIL GUY NOW HUH)

But then, when Otohan pushes him back…

(Pic: fuck. shit. fuck. im. fine. anYway. them.)

FCG and Ashton are there right behind him, and they put their arms out and catch him so he doesn’t fly back any farther. And there’s this look of surprise on his face, because once he lost Will, he never expected there to be anyone else standing behind him, ready to catch him. And yet, here they are.

(Pics: fuck yes fuck yes fuck yes GOOOO ORYM!!!)

They give Orym a push forward and follow behind him, and he walks back towards Otohan with confidence. Lil grin on his face, brisk walking pace - he even does a little fancy sword swoosh! Because maybe he’s not strong enough to take out Otohan on his own. But the thing is, he’s not alone anymore.

(Pic: THEY.)

None of them are alone. And whenever any of them forget, or slip into old habits and memories, the rest are right there to reach out a hand to remind them.

Building a family out of broken pieces is difficult even without an apocalypse. But the Hells have shown each other, over and over and over, often with their actions even more than their words, that they really are dedicated to this family that they've built together. This intro fucking slaps so hard and the animators deserve so much praise for how incredible this intro is

[utilitycaster]

I think this is the last I have to say about it, certainly not until new episodes air, but the thing about What The Fuck Is Up With That is that it's emblematic of the issues Bells Hells have - and to be honest I suspect always might have - regarding trust. It's a party game. It's a fun way to get surface-level answers. It's an infodump. It's telling not showing. It's not a bad thing, but you don't build trust, actually, by providing every piece of information! In fact, sometimes, it's good to keep your inside thoughts inside! You build trust with other people through your actions: through keeping your word, through proving your ability to do what they expect of you. Perhaps this is a personal experience and not a universal tenet, but people who share everything about themselves right away and people who end up being genuinely reliable and close and trustworthy are often two nearly entirely separate camps.

This also does once again feel like something with an interesting echo within the fandom. Earlier on in the campaign, before the introduction of 4-Sided Dive, I received a lot of questions about whether it would be helpful if we had something like Talks and my response was usually "no, the issue is that I know everything about the backstory and not actually much anyone's motivations; I have a factual list of personal history and I'm looking for a sense of someone's personality." This still comes up occasionally when I talk about Laudna, whose motivations remain hazy much of the time; we have a quite detailed outline of her history but it is missing the only things that actually matter. We know what. We don't know why. Bells Hells knows so much what about each other and they still struggle, even now, with "why".

And when it comes to why, telling people is nice, but it's very easy to lie about motivations. Indeed, that's why Imogen ends up fooled by her mother; she knows what Liliana did but assumed there was a deeper why than there ended up being; that Liliana wasn't simply seduced by the idea that Predathos would free her and Imogen from the burden of their powers but was also working as a force for good within the Vanguard and wouldn't hurt so many people. The revelation that the "why" really was that simple was ultimately why Imogen felt betrayed. Knowing more details about Liliana doesn't help.

Chetney ends up being the illustrative exception here, if that helps. He arrived late to the party. He never played What The Fuck Is Up With That. He even told them what he was there for (looking for Gurge) and lied about the "why" (werewolf reasons) initially. He to this day keeps secrets. But he's open about keeping secrets. That caginess allows him to be one of the party members most people trust on a fundamental level. They don't trust him to be kind, or generous per se; they don't even trust him to not hurt them. But they trust him to not hurt them intentionally, since he's repeatedly shown he will take steps to avoid this. He is cagey and uncooperative during most of the honesty exercise, but when he finally says something, it isn't a judgement - it is an explanation of his own behavior. When he declines to share his deal with Morri, he still reassures them that he did not do anything that would fall to them - and that's honest, and that's what matters, that he made a deal for himself and himself alone. Compare with Orym, who hides even the fact he made the deal, or Ashton a couple days ago, who hid their true plans with the shard. On the surface, Chetney is the one hiding something - but he is honest that he hides things. If Chetney's secret comes out? It won't change the party's understanding of his trustworthiness; it will just change some of the facts. If Orym's comes out or when Ashton's was revealed? That's a huge change in the party's understanding of their motivations.

Honesty in this party has been a game from the start, and as the exercises show, it still mostly is. A panopticon is, unsurprisingly, not a great way to make people trust each other; a little open hiding and actions over words are in order. I don't think that's necessarily a problem, in that I think Bells Hells share, if not a vast overreaching goal, an agreement regarding their pretty significant task. But I think any deeper trust is yet to be actually tested, tried, and forged.

[ratinayellowbandana]

Hi! Number six of the drabble prompt list, and if I may suggest, with a sad jealous Laudna.

hi! I'm sorry this one took a few days. I um. got a little carried away with it again. these were only supposed to be like 500-word prompt fills, and this is uh, slightly more than that. so I hope that's ok.

for those who don't want to find the prompt, it was: "You just didn't look for me." naturally I went ep 64 with a healthy splash of canon divergence, some good old-fashioned hurt/comfort, and pate as a thinly veiled metaphor.

length: 2k

~~~

Laudna whirls on her, snaps, “We looked for you. And the others. Every fucking day.” She holds Imogen’s gaze, holds her piercing stare until Imogen tilts her head. “You just didn’t look for me,” she whispers. 

Imogen steps forward, quiet but insistent. “No, sweetheart, no, we did. I did. Every day.” She does not reach out, afraid, not of Laudna–never of Laudna–but of herself. Of what she might do if given the chance at the wrong time. Her heart pounds an unsteady rhythm.

“I want to believe you,” Laudna says. She toys with the brass ring on her left hand, twisting it around her finger anxiously, twin snakes coiling. “I do, truly, it’s just…” 

Imogen studies her, searching for answers in a frame both foreign and familiar. Laudna is pale and gaunt, cheeks drawn in, though that’s hardly unusual. Her stringy dark hair lacks luster in the eerie light of the red moon, crispy and clumped together in places by something Imogen can’t identify. Cast in the long shadows between buildings, Laudna is on edge, ready to claw and screech and lash out with those wicked talons if provoked. She is wild, and she is beautiful, and she is frightened.  

“I understand,” Imogen speaks slowly, gently, distinctly aware of each word’s weight. 

The others are still in the inn, consorting in the tavern. The Hells and their new friends, chatting, laughing, and drinking the night away, simply happy to be home. Introductions were made, and tales of grandeur waited to be spun. 

Laudna had been unnervingly quiet after the initial elation wore off. Her hands remained folded in her lap or picked intently at the skin around her nails. Pâté’s silence was even more concerning. He had been coaxed out of hiding in Laudna’s hair with the promise of scratches and nudged his beak into her wrist until she began stroking his greasy fur. 

She spoke when spoken to, adjusting in her seat and responding eagerly when prompted. The moment the attention shifted, though, her forced smile would drop. Every so often, she sent a furtive glance in Imogen’s direction as if to ensure she was still there, then looked away just as quickly. Exhaustion crept at the corners of her eyes, and her gaze would fall to her lap whenever the conversation turned to the adventures in Wildemount. 

The group from Issylra hadn’t said much about their travels, but Imogen gathered their transplantation had not been as, ah, pleasant wasn’t quite the right word. Illustrious, maybe, Imogen considered, fussing with a seam on her new dress. Laudna’s blouse was tattered and stained with a thick substance that did not match her ichor’s usual viscosity. 

Laudna had stood abruptly, muttering something about air, and disappeared outside. After making puzzled eye contact with Ashton, who tossed his head at the door and sighed heavily, Imogen followed her. 

She had found Laudna around the corner, curled into herself against the wall of the Spire by Fire. A feral thing, hardened and reshaped by whatever circumstances found her while they were apart. 

She has not calmed yet, and Imogen is reluctant to curb the swell of emotion that has Laudna dangling by a thread. She is tangled in it, ensnared in a knotted web, and Imogen is unsure how to extricate her. She is all jagged pieces and raw edges, a tempest of fury and loss that Imogen cannot rely on her mental connection to unravel. Laudna is something of a mystery to her now in a way she has never been, and it’s all Imogen can do to not toss her circlet to the winds. 

Instead, she waits. 

Laudna is muttering to herself, tugging at her clothes. Pâté flaps about her head, wings of sinew and bone making an abominably wet sound Imogen hadn’t realized she’d missed. The tip of one wing tangles in Laudna’s hair, and she swats at him irritably, sending him tumbling through the air until he manages to right himself. Imogen extends a hand, and he flies to her, settling in her palm on his hindquarters. He gives a disgruntled shake, and his wings squelch back into his body, tail coming to rest around his paws. He peers up at Imogen, then looks back to Laudna.  

“I tried,” he croaks in that gravelly way of his, and Imogen strokes his disgusting little head with one finger. 

“I know,” she assures gently. He could be referring to any number of moments across a lifetime, a few weeks, mere seconds ago. She sets him on her shoulder and feels pinprick claws pierce the fabric of her dress for stability. Crass and wretched as he is, Imogen can’t find it in herself to hate him. He is an extension of his maker, creepy and ungainly and off-putting, so Imogen must love him a tiny bit. She scratches under his chin, ignores the feeling of magic-touched bone, murmurs, “Thank you for keepin’ her safe.”

“Boss didn’t have the best of times without you.” He pipes up, a little rueful, in a manner Imogen assumes is meant to be quiet. Laudna, only a few feet away, catches it.

“Pâté,” she snarls. He squeaks and tucks himself into Imogen’s collar. 

“He’s just confirming what I had already guessed,” Imogen defends, an attempt at lightness that doesn’t quite land. “It’s not his fault you haven’t told me anything.” 

“He ought to have stayed in my head. Then he might leave well enough alone,” Launda warns. 

“You don’t mean that,” Imogen counters calmly. 

Laudna spits, “He should have stayed dead.”

“Hey.” 

She huffs a sardonic, dry laugh. “Not everyone deserves second chances.” 

Imogen inhales sharply.

There it is. 

“Laudna…” She softens. She cups Pâté protectively. His fur oddly damp against her skin. She takes a cautious step forward. 

The pieces begin slotting into place, building the frame for a jarring picture of something severe enough to reopen this old wound. 

The fight sapped from her limbs, Laudna slides her back down the wall until she sits in the filth and dirt of the alleyway with her knees drawn close to her chest. Imogen winces as rough stone drags across jutting bone and paper-thin skin. 

“Are you… Do you want to be alone?” She asks–because what else can she do?– and half-fears the answer. 

Laudna’s head jerks up, and something Imogen can’t decipher flashes in her eyes. After a moment, her head shakes minutely, and Imogen lets out a relieved sigh. 

Tense silence leaches from the pores of the building’s rocky exterior.  

“We tried to find you all. Every day. We didn’t–we didn’t know where we were. Where anyone was, and–” Laudna breathes at last. “Orym was… was angry. Vengeful. And Ashton…. He was our friend.”

“Ashton?”

“I hurt him,” Laudna continues as if Imogen hadn’t spoken at all.

“Hurt who?” 

She shudders. “I killed him, not Prism.” Inky tears well from eyes pressed shut. Her voice is impossibly soft, hollow, seeming to ask, Do you hate me yet?

The narrative is convoluted at best. Imogen fruitlessly attempts to splice together the fragments of memory slipping through Laudna’s teeth like snowflakes, to arrange them into a cohesive whole among the scraps she gathered at the table. The Issylra group returned rattled, apprehensive and tense, but this is deeper. Laudna is shaken. 

“Wasn’t he a member of the Ruby Vanguard?” 

“He was confused, just like the rest of us. Angry at the gods.” Laudna’s eyes flicker to the glowing red moon. Her fist, clenched in her hair, tightens. “And I killed him.” 

Imogen steps closer. “We’ve all killed people.”

Laudna shakes her head. Her voice hardens once more. “I don’t begrudge you the shopping or fraternizing with royalty or, or whatever else it was,” she says lowly, “But we didn’t have that. We didn’t save a toy store or home-cooked breakfasts. We spent every moment fighting to get back to you. And now,” she swallows, “we must reckon with the cost.” 

She is utterly exhausted; Imogen can see in the dim light. Although bone-weary and at her wits’ end, Laudna’s elegant cheekbones curl with shadows that twist and hide in her skirts. Hunched and fearful as she is, Laudna is still hauntingly beautiful. Something warms in Imogen’s chest. 

“You did what you had to do to survive,” she says, “No one can fault you for that.” 

“I’m sorry.” Laudna’s voice breaks, fracturing in tandem with Imogen’s heart, and she sobs. “I’m sorry.”

“No, Laud, no–” Imogen crouches next to her, yearning to touch, to take Laudna in her arms and bite and hiss and growl at anyone who dares approach. She restrains herself, carefully plucking Pâté from her shoulder and setting him on the ground between them. He turns to her skeptically as if to say, Really? After what she said? Imogen nudges him in Laudna’s direction. He sniffs, beak in the air, and ruffles his fur before bounding to Laudna’s ankles and putting his weird, cold little dead rat toes against her shin. She ignores the pawing fragment of her soul, ashamed. 

“I’m sorry,” Laudna mutters, “I must seem…I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” 

Laudna begins incredulously, “I–”

“You survived,” Imogen reiterates, “against gods and people powerful enough to destroy them.” She sighs, “I sent you a message every day, you know? Sometimes more than once, if I’m honest, ‘till my nose bled and Deanna had to patch me up.” Imogen offers a half-smile. “All I got was static. I just had to hope you were out there, somewhere, lookin’ for me, too.” 

Laudna looks as if she might melt into herself, refusing to look at Imogen. Her shoulders shake, and she confesses with a gasp, “She’s back. I brought her back.” 

Imogen’s blood chills, but her tone remains neutral. “Who, Laud?” 

At last, Laudna meets her gaze, eyes wide and wet and horror-struck. “Delilah.”

The name hangs between them like a stone ready to drop and shatter and bury itself into their flesh. Searing rage erupts in Imogen’s veins. 

“I’m sorry,” Laudna shrinks back, “I’m so sorry. To all of you. You all gave so much to–to find me. And–”

“It’s not your fault,” Imogen interjects.

“–and I wasn’t…I was weak. I lost control.” 

“Laudna,” Imogen cuts her off with the steely calm of a thunderstorm on the horizon. She cannot afford to process this now, not when Laudna is trembling in an alley. Not when Laudna, unmoored and terrified, needs her to be an anchor. No, Imogen will save her questions and unfiltered anger, for another time. A time when Laudna is safe and warm and at no risk of coming unraveled in her hands. When Laudna is in a place to know Imogen’s wrath is not, could never be, directed at her.

“Laudna,” Imogen repeats, because she cannot bear the thought of her not understanding, “this is not your fault. None of this.” She does reach out, then, offering a lifeline should Laudna choose to accept it. She does, hesitantly, as if waiting for Imogen to recoil. Her fingers are cool, bird-light against Imogen’s red-scarred palm. Laudna seems to notice at the same time.

“Imogen,” she exclaims, words still tear-tinged and quivering, “your hands. They’re–are you alright?”

“Oh, they–they don’t hurt, usually. Promise. I’m fine.”

“I should have–I’m sorry, I suppose I was–”

“Laudna,” Imogen interrupts again, not unkindly, “please.” 

It’s then that Laudna seems to notice Pâté clawing his way up her skirt. She scoops him up and holds him to her, murmuring apologies into his fur.

“‘S’okay, boss,” he rasps, squished against his maker’s chest, “I can’t hold a grudge.”

They sit like that, hand-in-hand, hand-on-rat, until the easy stroke of Imogen’s thumb against Laudna’s has smoothed out the worst of the jagged edges. Until the tension falls from Laudna’s spine and she relaxes into Imogen’s touch. 

“The others are surely wondering where we’ve gone.”

Imogen shrugs, snorts, “There’re so many people at that table I think they’d hardly notice two missing.”

“Still,” Laudna says, “we ought to get back.”

“Do you want to?” It’s her choice. It always will be if Imogen can help it.

Laudna considers. “I think I’d rather like to hear the end of Chetney’s story from the Savalirwood.”

“Oh gods,” Imogen groans, flushing at the memory, “no, you don’t.” 

“Fearne and Deanna, hm?” 

“Best to let them tell it.”

[towards-toramunda]

Back on my BUT WHAT IF PREDATHOS IS A GOOD OR NEUTRAL ENTITY HUH????

WHAT THEN???????????

WHAT IF LUDINUS IS ONLY TRYING TO RELEASE PREDATHOS SO HE CAN USE HIS MORE ADVANCED HARNESS THAT HES HAD HUNDREDS OF YEARS TO DEVELOP TO EAT THE GOD EATER AND THEN HE’LL BE ABLE TO EAT THE GODS????????????????????????

WHAT IF THE BELL’S HELLS DISCOVER THAT PREDATHOS EATS GODS “NOT BECAUSE OF MALICE, NOT BECAUSE OF MURDEROUS INTENT, BUT BECAUSE SOME THINGS HAVE TO EAT AND SOME THINGS HAVE TO BE EATEN” (QUOTE FROM MATT MERCER IN EPISODE 71 WHEN THEY WERE IN THE SHATTERED TEETH THAT I HAVE NOT BEEN ABLE TO STOP THINKING ABOUT)??????????????????????

ALL CAMPAIGN WE’VE SEEN THE GOOD SIDE OF “BAD GUYS” LIKE WITH NANA MORRI OR THE NIGHTMARE KING OR BOR’DOR OR EVEN THE PCS THEMSELVES LIKE THEY’RE ALL TEXTBOOK VILLAIN NPCS (except orym thats my father right there)

WHAT IF THAT WAS ALL TO LEAD US TO PREDATHOS ACTUALLY BEING A FINE DUDE??????

Okay but all caps is hurting my eyes so lets discuss:

- we haven’t seen predathos and presumably they’re either asleep or in some sort of dormant state and have been since nearly the beginning of recorded history so there is no record of their form, true power, personality, etc. all we know is they (presumably, but lets be real yes they did) ate two gods

- Predathos was said to create “twisted life” but so far what we’ve seen from the life on Ruidius is just… *different* life. Red and spindly and alien, but not necessarily bad. Yes we’ve seen some reilorans siding with ludinus in the fight near the lava a few episodes back, but we also know that reliorans called by imogen have to do what she says so how do we actually know these ones were working on their own volition/weren’t misguided like bor’dor was?

- Quite a few times in this campaign we’ve been shown the theme that bad things are often not evil or malicious, (and evil things can be useful shoutout to Teven Klask). As mentioned earlier and by many people throughout this campaign: these PCs are easily the villain NPCs in any other dnd campaign

- When they went to the shattered teeth Matt said “You are uncertain who is who, but you get the sense that many innocent creatures have met their end in this land violently, not because of malice, not because of murderous intent, but because some things have to eat and some things have to be eaten.” And ever since I heard him say that I keep wondering if THAT is gonna be who predathos is! Because gods may meet their end to predathos violently, not because of malice, but because *some things have to eat and some things need to be eaten*

- And NOW with the introduction of ludi’s old harness and seeing just how powerful and dangerous it is I absolutely think that Ludinus has been working on a new one since he left molaesmyr and my *theory* is that he’s only trying to release predathos so he can suck in his power (maybe he’ll be the one controlling imogen’s powers then and YIKE) and have the ability to devour the gods/become one himself.

- Imagine how JUICY and INTERESTING it’d be if the hell’s realize that predathos is actually not a bad being, but a being who has been treated badly and then BAMB LUDINUS COMES IN WITH AN UPDATED HARNESS AND SUCKS HIS POWERS INTO HIMSELF?? HOW BATSHIT WOULD THAT BE?????? LIKE??????? COME ON

(This is all speculation I hate when I speculate on this hellsite and someone claims I’m trying to pretend I have a crystal ball that can see into the future with 100% certainty: I’m trying to have fun calm down)

[yourfavoritebookclub]

WINGLEADER: A Xaden Riorson POV Fanfiction

CHAPTER 6

Imogen and I walk along the Iakobos River, our steps near silent as we snake our way through the reedy grass to the cluster of large oaks at the bank.

We stop at the roots of one of the larger trees and Imogen pulls off her hood to give me a long look.

She leans in towards me, voice quiet. “Can you please stop giving me the silent treatment?”

When I don't respond, she turns her head to look me in the eyes, “Xaden, seriously. You weren’t there, she was talking about my parents being murdered. Am I supposed to just let trash like her get away with that? It’s dis—” I lift my hand to silence her. “Don’t finish that sentence, Imogen.” I ground out, my anger rising at the insult.

Hurt and confusion flash across her face and I feel a twinge of guilt. She doesn’t know that with every look, every confrontation, every day that goes by where Violet is in my presence, my self control slips a little more.

“The rest are close.” Sgaeyl says from her position in the sky. 

My eyes lift, “We can discuss this in front of everyone. It’s a message for all of you.”

The two of us turn towards the line of trees as the rest of the group converge beneath the giant oak.

My shadows are comfortable here, they feel cool against my skin. As they unravel, my senses extend along every tendril. I can hear every small nocturne creature and subtle wind.

I can also hear the soft, quick breathing above me. What Violet Sorrengail is doing out here, is a question I’d love to know the answer to. But it can wait. This moment feels like another opportunity to push her and see which way she falls.

There are small introductions between everyone, most of them are known, but some of the first-years are from smaller families who haven’t been properly acquainted with everyone.

There’s a palpable anxiety coursing through the younger cadets. I get it, but it’s time to push it to the side, step up, and do their jobs. We protect each other. Panic isn't an option. 

Garrick is angsty about the losses this week. We all are. Our numbers are small enough as is. 

Garrick addresses the group, his eyes hard, “We’ve already lost Sutherland and Luperco, that’s just how it is your first year, but we can’t afford to lose a single one of us. Division amongst ourselves will be your greatest weakness.”

There’s soft rustling in the branches above as Violet moves from branch to branch.

Imogen turns to the first years, “Like it or not, we’re going to have to stick together if you want to survive until graduation.”

“And if they find out we’re meeting?” One of the younger girls, Gwyn, asks the group.

The fear is clear on all of their faces. They’ve all been scared for too long. But that’s what we’re here to change.

I need to inspire courage, but also remind them that we’re confident in the system we’ve created.

And remind them who they’ll be answering to if things get out of hand.

I cross my arms and lean against the tree, keenly aware of Violet, now directly above me.

“We’ve done this for two years and they’ve never found out.” My eyes scan the group, “they’re not going to unless one of you tells. And if you tell,” I say, raising a brow, “I’ll know. Like Garrick said, we’ve already lost two first-years to their own negligence. There are only forty-one of us in the Riders Quadrant, and we don’t want to lose any of you, but we will if you don’t help yourselves. The odds are always stacked against us, and trust me, every other Navarrian in the quadrant will look for reasons to call you a traitor or force you to fail.”

There’s no use in feeding them bullshit if their lives are on the line.

“How many of you are getting your asses handed to you in hand-to-hand?”

Four first-years raise their hands.

Four.

“Shit.” I exhale, pinching the bridge of my nose. This is not good. After the bargain was made a few of us older kids made sure there were systems in place. Training regimens were created. Academic Curriculums, and tests that mimicked what they’ll face upon entering the quadrant. Tools to ensure every serpartist’s kid was well equipped before they put a single toe on the parapet.

The headache is back.

Garrick, always a step ahead, says, “I’ll teach them.”

After the amount of training, and natural skill he’s had, Garrick’s fighting is instinctual. Good for winning fights, not great for trying to teach someone.

I look at Garrick and shake my head, “You’re our best fighter–” 

I’m interrupted by Bodhi, “ You’re our best fighter.”

“Dirtiest fighter, maybe,” Imogen corrects him with a laugh.

There’s some laughter, and even a couple smiles from the younger ones.

“Fucking ruthless is more like it,” Garrick says, grinning at me.

I keep my mouth shut and let everyone get it out of their system before moving on.

“Garrick is our best fighter, but Imogen is right up there with him, and she’s a hell of a lot more patient,” If the two of them want to be mouthy then they can do it together. “So the four of you split yourselves up between the two of them for training. A group of three won’t draw any unwanted attention. What else is giving you trouble?” One of the first years, Kieran begins speaking before anyone else, his voice full of anguish,“I can’t do this.” My stomach lurches.

I can’t deal with this right now

“What do you mean?” I ask, my voice going cold.

“I can’t do this! The death. The fighting. Any of it. A guy had his neck snapped right in front of me on assessment day!” The boy's voice is growing more frantic, and every word out of his mouth is filling me with guilt.

“I want to go home!” Kieran continues, “Can you help me with that ?”

Everyone turns to look at me.

I did this to them.

Bile rises to the back of my throat.

No, this was the only way I could save every person in front of me right now.

I didn’t have a choice.

And neither does he.

I swallow, frustration bubbling up to the surface.

We don’t have time to comfort and coddle. Our goal is to survive. Everything else is an afterthought.

“No,” I say, shrugging my shoulders, feigning indifference.“You’re not going to make it. Best accept it now and not take up more of my time.”

My words come out harsher than intended, but I mean them nonetheless 

The color drains from Kieran’s face, and his thin frame begins shaking as my words hit him.

Bodhi turns to look at me, incredulity written on his face. “That was a little harsh, cousin.”

“What do you want me to say, Bodhi? I can’t save everyone, especially not someone who isn’t willing to work to save themselves.” I keep my voice calm, even as the guilt tries to press itself in on me.

“Damn, Xaden.” Garrick says, that same disbelief lacing his voice. “Way to give a pep talk.”

Did none of them hear me after the parapet? We are not special. We will face blood and horror, and the likely possibility of death. Giving me problems that I can’t solve doesn’t help anyone, it holds us all back. This is just a fact of our reality. 

“If they need a fucking pep talk, then we both know they’re not flying out of the quadrant on graduation day. Let’s get real. I can hold their hands and make them a bunch of bullshit empty promises about everyone making it through if that helps them sleep, but in my experience, the truth is far more valuable.” I turn to look at Kieran, “In war, people die. It’s not glorious like the bards sing about, either. It’s snapped necks and two-hundred-foot falls. There’s nothing romantic about scorched earth or the scent of sulfur.” 

I point to the citadel off in the distance, “This isn’t some fable where everyone makes it out alive. It’s hard, cold, uncaring reality. Not everyone here is going to make it home…to whatever’s left of our homes. And make no mistake, we are at war every time we step foot in the quadrant.” I lean closer to him, and the other first-years in front of me. They need to drill this into their fucking skulls, “So if you won’t get your shit together and fight to live, then no. You’re not going to make it.”

I assess each of them, making sure they’ve heard me loud and clear.

Good. Time to move on.

“Now, someone give me a problem I can actually solve,” I say, this time addressing the whole group.

Aria, one of the first years, speaks up, “Battle Brief.” 

That, I can handle.

She continues, “It’s not that I can’t keep up, but the information…”

Imogen steps in to soften the obvious conflict in Aria’s voice. She leans in, voice gentle “That’s a tough one.”

Some of my irritation with her softens. Imogen’s fearless, and has a nasty temper, but she’s always been a buffer between me and everyone else.

And she’s right, It’s hard to know what we know, and still placate the professors.

I’d speak a bit more freely if I didn’t have a certain someone perched on the branch above me. I'm already sticking my neck out by letting her stay. 

“You learn what they teach you.” I say giving her a pointed look. “Keep what you know but recite whatever they tell you to.” There are several nods, and I feel satisfied that everyone understands what’s at stake if they fuck up.

“Anyone else?” I say, looking up at the moon. It’s shifted considerably since we got here, which means we’re cutting it close. “You’d better ask now. We don’t have all night.”

There’s a heartbeat of silence before someone in the back says, “When do we get to kill Violet Sorrengail?”

My whole body tenses, my heartrate climbing, and I have to clench my jaw to keep from snapping. In the span of a few seconds I’ve become completely possessed. Just a handful of days around her and I’m already losing my mind at the thought of anyone touching her. She’s mine . 

“Yeah, Xaden, When do we get to finally have our revenge?” Imogen says, her voice turning mockingly sweet. 

I am now acutely aware of every fast breath coming from Violet. 

I throw a threatening look at Imogen, “I told you already, the youngest Sorrengail is mine, and I’ll handle her when the time is right.” 

I don’t think I even know what that means right now. There are a lot of ways I’d like to handle– 

No.

That’s not even a thought worth entertaining.

Bodhi decides to be Bodhi and stir the pot, “Didn’t you already learn that lesson, Imogen? What I hear, Aetos has you scrubbing dinner dishes for the next month for using your powers on the mat.”

“Her mother is responsible for the execution of my mom and sister. I should have done more than just snap her shoulder.” Imogen argues, her cheeks flushing in anger.

“Her mom is responsible for the capture of nearly all our parents. Not her daughter.” Garrick looks Imogen in the eyes, “Punishing children for the sins of their parents is the Navarrian way, not Tyrrish.”

This is getting exhausting.

“So we get conscripted because of what our parents did years ago and shoved into this death sentence of a college–”

“In case you didn’t notice, she’s in this same death sentence of a college. Seems like she’s already suffering the same fate.” Garrick says, shutting down Imogen’s argument.

Apparently everyone here needs a reminder of who Violet is in all of this.

“Don’t forget her brother was Brennan Sorrengail. She has just as much reason to hate us as we do her.” I say to Imogen before turning to the first-year, “And I’m not going to tell you again. She’s mine to handle. Anyone feel like arguing?”

No one speaks.

The moon has shifted even closer to the horizon. Time to get these walking headaches out of here and deal with the one above me.“Good. Then get back to bed. And go in threes.”  

The group clears out and I walk towards the citadel, slowly cloaking myself in shadows until I’m invisible in the dark. I can’t help but smirk as I backtrack to the oak tree and slip behind where Violet is currently positioned.

She’s patient. It takes her a good ten minutes before she finally climbs down from her perch and drops to the ground. 

Still cloaked in shadows, I lunge, pulling her tight against my chest. Every place where our bodies connect is buzzing like a live wire, and I resist the impulse to drop her. 

It’s overwhelming, intoxicating, and dammit if I don’t love every second.

“Scream and you die,” I whisper in her ear. I don’t want to let go of her, but I force myself to remove my arm from around her neck.

Before she can even think about retaliating, I’ve replaced my arm with the edge of a dagger. “Fucking Sorrengail.” I snap, pulling back the hood of her cloak to reveal her face.

Fuck. 

I can’t help the way my cheeks heat as she leans her head back to look me in the eyes.

I push my chest against her, forcing her eyes forward before she gets a chance to read the undeniable need on my face.

“How did you know?” She says, her lip curling. For someone who’s convinced I’m going to kill her, she has some bite. “Let me guess,” she continues, “You could smell my perfume. Isn’t that what always gives the heroine away in books?”

Perfume?  

I bend my head toward hers, my lips brushing against her ear.

She’s irritating as hell. And yet here I am, excited that I have her all to myself.

“I command shadows, but sure, it was your perfume that gave you away.” I say sarcastically, my voice barely above a whisper.

A thrill goes up my spine as she gasps. “Your signet is a shadow wielder?”

My lips are still at her ear , “What, Aetos hasn’t warned you not to get caught alone in the dark with me yet?”

My voice sounds rough, even to me, and I resist the urge to put my mouth on her, to bite her ear, kiss her neck. I’m in a fog, consumed by being near her.

My grip loosens a fraction as my concentration slips, and she spins towards me, dagger raised, “Is this how you plan to handle me?”

“Eavesdropping are we?” I ask, brow lifting. 

Seeing her like this, like she was before the parapet, angry and wild, is doing something to me, and I can’t get enough.

I sheath my dagger. “Now I might actually have to kill you.” The cold look in my eyes is in stark contrast to the way my mind is pleading with her.

Please, don’t say anything. 

Because for all my bravado, I don’t know if I have it in me to kill her. I’m worried about what it might do to me. 

It would wreck me.

She backs away, reaching into her cloak to pull out another dagger. 

Despite her uneven footing and awkward defensive stance, Violet with her daggers out, ready for a fight is…

Fuck, It’s hot.

“That stance is really the best you can muster? No wonder Imogen nearly ripped your arm off.” I say, heaving a sigh. I don’t have it in me to kill her but there are several people who do, and will succeed with her defensive position so…lacking.

“I’m more dangerous than I look,” she says, but her cheeks are flushed and her ears have turned pink at the tips, contradicting the anger in her voice.

She’s being cute, and I can’t help but smirk. I like playing with her, “So I see. I’m quaking in my boots.”

Quicker than I would’ve expected she flings both daggers towards me.

And completely misses.

I look at her dully, if not a little disappointed, “You missed.”

“Did I?” She says, reaching for the two other daggers she has tucked into her cloak, “Why don’t you back up a couple steps and test that theory?”

What?

I smooth my face into a mask of irritated boredom, but from the way she’s looking at me, I know she saw the question in my eyes.

My shadows swirl around her ankles, pulling to touch her. I yank them back, hard, smothering my own desire.

My eyes don’t leave Violet’s as I take three steps back until my back hits the tree.

Where the  hilt of each dagger sits perfectly between both sides of my head.

Oh.

Good girl, Violet.

“Tell me again that I missed.” She threatens, flipping the dagger in her hand to hold it by the tip.

I still can’t take my eyes off of her. 

I smile, “Fascinating, you look all frail and breakable, but you’re really a violent little thing, aren’t you?”

I will my shadows into something more concrete, forming them into hands, the slender fingers moving to pluck the daggers from the bark, and drop them into both of my palms.

I’m still smiling at her like a fool. I think I’m going into shock.

My body has completely abandoned my mind, and before I realize what I’m doing, I’m moving towards her, steps slow, “You should show that little trick to Jack Barlowe.”

Violet blinks in surprise, “What?”

She clocks how close we are to each other and raises her dagger.

I’ve done my job a little too well if she thinks my only motivation is to kill her. “The neck-snapping first year who’s very publicly vowed to slaughter you.” I tease, lifting an eyebrow. 

One more step and the tip of her blade is pressed against my middle. I’m still smirking as I reach under her cloak and sheath one of the daggers. 

I lift the other side of her cloak, and the smirk slips off of my face, every ounce of playful banter gone.

Underneath her cloak, her hair is twisted into a loose braid that falls over one shoulder and down past her breast. The silver strands, now exposed to the moonlight, glint as she shifts her head to look up at me.

I can barely breathe for wanting her so badly.

I want to wrap that braid around my wrist and yank her towards me.

For a single heartbeat I’m dumbstruck before I pull myself together and sheath her other dagger. “He’d probably think twice about plotting your murder if you threw a few daggers at his head.”

Violet’s face looks half irritated, half confused, “Because the honor of my murder belongs to you?” My words from earlier play through my head. Mine . “You wanted me dead long before your little club chose my tree to meet under, so I imagine you’ve all but buried me in your mind by now.”

I look at the dagger pressed between us. She looks closer to burying me than the other way around. 

A small shiver of fear courses through me. I’ve made a dangerous gamble in letting her hear all that was said tonight. “Do you plan on telling anyone about my little club ?” 

“No,” She says bluntly.

I can feel my eyebrows knit together. The answer I was hoping for, but not necessarily the one I was expecting. “Why not?” I ask. My head tilts to the side as I examine this girl in front of me, so different than I had assumed. “It’s illegal for the children of separatists officers to assemble in—”

“Groups larger than three,” Smart little thing.

She continues, “I’m well aware. I’ve lived at Basgiath longer than you.” Arrogant little thing too.

“And you’re not going to run off to Mommy, or your precious little Dain, and tell them we’ve been assembling? ” I can’t help the contempt that drips off my tongue at the thought of Dain. Of his hands on her face, searching through her memories.

“You were helping them. I don’t see why that should be punished.” 

I give her an assessing glare.

She looks thoughtful, her mind turned inward for a beat before her eyes refocus on mine, “I’m not going to tell.”

I can’t get my hopes up, but they’re soaring anyways.

Her defenses are slipping away, rotating back to a familiar look of fear.

I don’t want her to be scared of me.

She needs to be scared of me. She should want nothing to do with me. 

If I can just manage enough self restraint to put some distance between the two of us.

“Interesting. We’ll see if you keep your word, and if you do, then unfortunately, it looks like I owe you a favor.” I say, my thoughts of staying away are already completely abandoned.

I turn to go and she calls after me, “You’re not going to handle me?”

“Not tonight!” I yell over my shoulder, a smirk on my face.

She makes an indignant sound, “What are you waiting for?”

Gods I can’t help but play with her, “It’s no fun if you expect it. Now, get back to bed before your wingleader realizes you’re out after curfew.”

“What?” She almost shrieks, voice full of confusion.

 I start to pull my shadows around me, cloaking me from view, but not before I hear her shout, “ You’re my wingleader!”

Yes the hell I am. 

In the shadows my smirk has bloomed into a fierce grin.

[exterastris]

TAG DROP

raphael mendoza

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imogen bartowski

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general

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[ihaveatypeanditstrickstergods]

Who are your top 3 CR PCs?

Okay, I have a few different answers depending on whether guest characters, EXU, or Candela Obscura count.

If we're counting everything:

1. Sean Finnerty (Candela Obscura, Circle of Needle & Thread): I love characters who put a comedic veneer over being immensely fucked up, and I love when that veneer drops. His arc was so sad and I loved it so much

2. Jester Lavorre (Mighty Nein): She is the chaos I want to see in the world. She's such a fun character, I love how she's both a genuinely nice person and someone who will permanently superglue a golden dick to someone's hand, and there's definitely something about her that resonates with me as someone who grew sheltered with a creative outlet. Also the Cupcake is iconic.

3. Nydas Okiro (EXU Calamity): Of course there's gonna be someone from Calamity on here. A lot of people focus on Zerxus, Quay, or Laerryn, and I love all of them, but Nydas was my favorite from his introduction. He's one of the top two examples of blind ambition in the Ring of Brass (along with Laerryn), and his reaction to the prophecy was SUCH a good character beat. His stand at the Golden Scythe and rallying of the constructs in episode 4 still makes me tear up every time.

Honorable mentions: Shakaste (Mighty Nein guest character), Kerrek (Vox Machina Guest character), Dariax Zaveon (EXU original/Kymal)

If we're just talking core campaigns (I am very behind on Bells Hells, so there won't be anyone from there, but I do very much like Imogen and FCG)

1. Jester Lavorre (Mighty Nein) (see above)

2. Beauregard Lionett (Mighty Nein): Listen, I'm a library information professional, I am legally obligated to love her and the Cobalt Soul. I appreciate the amount of bullshit she refused to take, I feel like she got to fully in-character make use of Marisha's note taking skills (which is one of her biggest strengths as a player, imo), and I can't think of a single dynamic she had with another member of the Nein that I didn't have fun with.

3. Percival Frederickstein von Musel Kollowski de Rolo III (Vox Machina) (I hope I spelled that all correctly): I am not immune to sadboi. Percy had one of my favorite arcs in Campaign 1; there's something to be said for revenge arcs that do eventually answer the question of "so now what?" and I enjoyed that Taliesin never cut him a break for his shit. I'm also a shameless Perc'ahlia shipper, and I would be lying if I said that didn't influence my choice.

Honorable mentions: Caleb Widogast (Mighty Nein), Vex'ahlia (Vox Machina)

[thecavernsabove]

okay now i just want to talk about my expectations versus why i have ended up liking certain characters because i am just so intrigued by everything these people and characters do. for bells hells, i went into it knowing i would love ashton because they are the reason I started watching, i didn't think i would really latch onto any other character, apart from maybe fearne because she's a satyr and i am particularly partial to satyrs, and imogen because i mean it's laura bailey!

but what actually happened, is that yes i did get super attached to ashton of course i did, but my top three quickly became ashton, orym and laudna (and as someone who started being able to watch live at the split you can imagine how devastated i was). and recently chetney is really creeping up there. i do love all the characters dearly though.

ashton just reminds me of myself so much, apart from the fact that they are much braver than i could ever be, and blunter too. i wish i could be them and also see all my faults in them. its a lot.

orym was my first introduction to liam o'brien and his devastating little guys (more on caleb later), and just his backstory and the way he deals with people intrigues me so much and i want to see him happy so bad.

laudna oh laudna. marisha ray you have ruined me. even going into this with my minimal knowledge of the briarwoods, her backstory reveal was so intense and it hurt. also, creepy unnerving girlies stick together! she's iconic.

chetney is so wild to me i love him so much. he is so intensely gender as well i love him so much. i love gruff and grumpy characters that are actually nice once you are more friendly with them.

imogen. i will say it took a little bit for her to grow on me but i do love her. i think the bassuras dusk stuff really helped me like her more. also her immense power and lightning scars are pretty cool if you ask me.

fearne. i love how sweet she is and the stuff like being bad at lying and also just stealing little things here and there was really fun. but what made me like her more was when she got more serious and i didn't expect that (foreshadowing for later!)

fcg. now, i still have, mixed? feelings for fcg. in a sense of i dont hate the character but i think the character arc is not something im too interested in, but i do still like them. the stuff with frida was very nice, and i do like the bits that they do - but i think there still feels like there is something missing for me somewhat.

now, with the mighty nein, i had an inkling on who i would like. i thought caleb certainly because we seem very similar, molly maybe because i liked ashton so hey i might like this taliesin character too! and that was it really. going into it though, because i had seen so much of jester (talking about her and cosplays mostly) i thought that she would be probably my least favourite because her personality didn't seem to really gel with what i usually like in characters. but here i am, on the other side with my favs being caleb, fjord, and jester! it was so much watching everything for the first time, even with knowing the big spoilers and then looking at more minor spoilers so i knew somewhat what would happen - but i do that with a lot of things, its different knowing what happens versus actually watching and experiencing what is happening.

caleb. caleb widogast is such an intense character and i loved every minute i spent with him. i spent so much time checking when i would finally see the nein sided tower of his and watching liam describe everything for an hour was so incredible i was in awe. i truely love that dirt wizard so much.

fjord was a truly unexpected character for me to fall for. the first time i realized that i was going to love him though was when they were in the one politicians house early in the campaign and he held his sword to caleb to make sure he wasn't fucking with them. then seeing his growth, the accent change, and just his whole deal i was enraptured. i do miss the southern eldritch blast though.

jester oh my goodness did she creep up on me. i think her initial cuteness that i had experienced throughout just existing on the internet put me off for some reason but i don't know why. however i did quickly fall in love with her, when she had one of her more sinister/serious moments early on. i don't remember what it was but i remember thinking oh. /oh./ okay. i love her. and then her relationship with her mama, and artie, gosh i just loved watching laura bailey do literally anything. the cupcake bit! also the sprinkle bit is quite funny. i also just love doing her voice when im talking to myself. she is also the reason that i take a decent amount of damage spells with my current cleric.

beau. i think i thought that i would have liked her more than i did (don't get me wrong i liked her a lot but she is not in my top three), but she is incredible. as a fellow monk pc i do love going the extra mile with those stunning strikes, and also seeing her relationship with yasha blossom was so lovely. and her bro relationships with fjord and caleb were also some of my favourites.

yasha. after starting with campaign three, it was really hard to not see ashley all the time and i remember having to look on the wiki while watching to check when she would come back every time she left. i think i really started to like her more after her she got taken, and went through that big arc, and we were around her more often. i loved watching her dreams. i loved watching her so much.

veth was so unexpected are you kidding me?? i will say i have yet to have a sam character be in my top three but god he knows how to throw an emotional punch and i love that kind of stuff. i love her relationship with caleb, the detective agency, the chaos crew. i love her arc of getting herself back, of seeing her family again. ough. im a big lover of families.

caduceus. goodness gracious me what a character. i just absolutely loved the aesthetic and caduceus's whole relationship to how he approaches death. he is also the reason i started playing a grave cleric in a newer campaign. but truly, has made me think differently about death - which was especially needed for me this year.

mollymauk. i knew he was dead. i knew he would die. but that didn't make me any less upset when it happened! i think about him often, what could have been. especially since i was so sure he took the wrong amount of damage in that fight and should not have quite have been knocked out at that time. but his whole maximallist aesthetic is something i very much enjoy, and i love the through line of his cards with jester.

wow okay this has gotten to be very long but i need to get my thoughts about everyone out somewhere!! if you've read this far im so sorry this is so much of my own ramblings.

[siobhanbooks]

wip Wednesday (technically Thursday but I was busy yesterday so...)

tagged by the wonderful @benwvatt

Bodoc wedding (you and me, forevermore)

Bodhi pov

"It's funny that we're doing this, and they are doing this next door, and it's the exact same people as last year. But it's a different couple getting married.” “Yeah well, Garrick, that's what happens when cousins who are best friends get married to a pair of best friends.” Imogen pointed out, looking at him like he was stupid. “Yeah, but the wedding party is exactly the same people, and we're in exactly the same rooms only 13 months later.” “Yeah, because of the cousins and best friends thing, are you not listening?” “Okay okay. Don't punch her, Garrick. And don't kick him, Imogen. Gods, is that what it's gonna be like why I have kids.” “Yep,” I supplied helpfully. “But seriously, if any of you turn up to the wedding broken in any way, both me and Ridoc will kill you. Afterwards, of course"

Riorgail post war pregnancy/baby fic

Xaden pov

I reached the doors to the chamber, only fifteen minutes late, which, for me, was an accomplishment. “Riorson.” A voice boomed out across the room, Ulicess. “Is there any point in you holding this seat as a member if you are going to skip half the meeting?” I couldn't resist myself, “The meetings are only half an hour long now?” How wonderful.” I drawled unenthusiastically. “You know that they are not. Don't be an idiot teenager. Now, we'll have to catch you up on everything you've missed.” Suri said, glaring at me disapprovingly like I was 16. “I missed the introductions, which is dumb because we all know each other, and the pleasantries, which is stupid because it's early and we all know each other. I'd much rather have the extra fifteen minutes in bed with my wife. Thank you very much.” I retorted, well aware that I was being slightly immature but just sleep-deprived enough to speak anyway. “I don't think we need the details, Xaden.” Brennan said, like the asshole he is. “Asleep. She's asleep, and the Gods know how much I wish I could join her right now instead of being here doing this.” I was still standing at the door, glaring back at the six of them gathered around the table waiting for me.

tagging: @bestbookfriends @taumoebaa @yanny-77 @alexandia03

[marcussour]

Me the other day: I probably won't be able to keep watching CR live, gonna switch to the VOD's from now on

Me last night: Well, we had an hour change and the episodes are starting an hour earlier, let's try and see if I can still do it...

AND BOY OH BOY AM I GRATEFUL I DID WATCH IT LIVE LAST NIGHT

It's been like 6-7 hours since it ended, and all I could think about was the episode, and that ending.

I've been watching CR since campaign 1, and I'm not exaggerating when I say that was one of the most stressful and brutal episodes of any campaign I've seen, I think I can only compare it to the most stressful parts of EXU: Calamity, and we even went there knowing it was gonna have a "bad" ending. I know we've been close enough to a TPK before, but I never felt that risk so tangible and real as in last night episode. I was legitimately angry at Matt some times, like, nah, he overdid it, he went to far, Otohan's far too OP. And, besides the luck of the rolls, both for and against, I kept thinking like, Otohan's not even using the backpack, imagine what could've happened and how much worse it might've been if Imogen hadn't remove that from the equation. Of course everyone there has their full support and confidence in Matt, and he has the years of experience of being an incredible DM, but that was so stressful.

And of course, there's the ending. SAM MOTHERFUCKIN' RIEGEL. I can't stress enough how many flashbacks I had of Vox Machina and Scanlan's most iconic decisions (both the one in A Bard's Lament and, of course, the clutch one in the final fight). He's just that good, as a player and a performer. Just, coming out of the left field with that choice, understanding perfectly the consequences of what he was doing, and like, the slow realization in everyone else faces as they came to their senses regarding what Sam was doing, the disbelief, the sadness, the anger. It was all too real and powerful. I was watching, 02:24 am here, just, sobbing in my couch watching everything unfold as FCG final sacrifice ended up saving the party and taking out one of their biggest threats. It was just, so poweful.

It was a moment and an episode we'll be talking about for years to come. And it's amazing to think that we'll be so focused on the fight and it's finale, that you might overlook what happened in the first half, especially the fact that Imogen, against all odds, apparently managed to turn Liliana away from Ludinus and the Ruby Vanguard, which is gonna be huge, because I, for one, was fully convinced that they weren't gonna be able to do that (thank the gods for that 31 that Laura rolled).

This episode was an all timer, can't wait to see how things are gonna unravel next week. If there's a way to bring back FCG without his core (and if they replace it or rebuild it, is it the same FCG?), how is everyone's reactions going to be when they have more time to process, what's gonna happen now with Liliana, how and when will they return to Exandria, and of course, in what way Sam's gonna surprise us with a new character (already having flashbacks from Taryon Darrington introduction)