#Why am I murdering these goblins

[artbyblastweave]

Elder Scrolls is fascinating to me because the vast majority of the background information of the setting is very obviously written by people with an admirably clear-eyed understanding of how history is mainly just groups genociding the shit out of each other before constructing post-hoc rationalizations of why that was a cool and good thing to do, if they bother justifying anything beyond the level of Might Makes Right. And then the actual main quest plots are often operating at Sword Hero Cleanses The Undesirables levels of These Are The Bad Guys, Kill Them Because We Said So

[slayerdurge]

god... the durge play through is so much fun so far... just now my durge, face absolutely covered in worg dung, intimidated a goblin into kissing her feet and earned simultaneous approval from lae'zel, shadowheart, and astarion

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Marina behind the cut; “mistaken identities and interdimensional refugees”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Jesus, no, I’m dating your brother,” Kon says, because fuck his life, he guesses, so much for Super-stealthing this shit. Well, at least no one’s gonna accuse him of doing the horizontal mambo with Batman again, because that is basically the worst possible assumption anyone could ever–

“Not Damian, right?” Jon asks worriedly. 

God, Kon misses Young Justice right now. Seriously, fuck solo work. Also, what the hell is taking the local Batman so damn long to show up? Like in what reality is Batman of all people just letting a pair of interdimensional Kryptonians walk in his fucking front door and just, like . . . what, hang out? Make, he doesn’t know, fucking small talk about the interdimensional gossip? 

This entire friggin’ foyer must be trapped to the fucking gills. 

“Damian is fifteen in my reality, Jon, I am in no way dating Damian,” Kon says as he suffers to fuck and back. “That would be what the kids call 'problematic as fuck'.” 

“Who the fuck is Damian?” Jason asks in bewilderment. “The only Damian we know is Talia's fucked-up little crotch goblin baby assassin.” 

“Oh,” Kon says, doing a real bad job of repressing the wince. Wow, this is gonna be a conversation. “Uh, well, he’s–” 

Then Jon bursts into tears and Kon, again, suffers. He scoops the kid back up and lets Jon bury his face in his shoulder and pats the kid’s back as soothingly as he can figure out how to, really hoping it is in any way soothing. Mostly he’s just copying Pa’s usual technique, to be honest. 

“Look, personally I think the kid's an annoying brat and he admittedly has tried to murder me on four separate occasions for being 'an unworthy suitor to the Wayne family name', but let's not talk shit about him in front of this kid, okay?” he says. “Like, that's not necessarily gonna be helpful right now.” 

“You want to avoid talking shit about a kid who literally tried to kill you?” Jason asks incredulously. “For . . . why does he even care about our family name, exactly?” 

“I mean, it is Uncle Clark,” Dick says, then looks skeptical. “Though how is your Damian fifteen, hell, how old's your Talia?” 

“Like a hundred and fifty, I'm pretty sure? Give or take a couple years,” Kon says, squinting at him in bemusement. That . . . definitely seems like something that literally any Dick Grayson who knows Talia exists should know. “How do you not know that?” 

“. . . okay that does allow for some wiggle room in his conception, admittedly,” Jason says, making a face. “Look, we never asked the crazy assassin lady her birthday, okay? We don't exchange pleasantries when we see her, we just try not to die.” 

“Understandable, you could definitely brush up on those skills,” Kon says. The razzing is definitely a reflex response after all the shit his Jason put his Tim through, but it comes out before he can think better of it. So . . . whoops on that, maybe. 

“What?” Jason says blankly. 

“. . . uh,” Kon says. Okay. So that was maybe not a thing here. Well, that might partially explain Dick and Jason apparently being less familiar with Talia, but also really does not fully explain it. Maybe this is a trap, actually, or they’re just Bat-questioning them. That would definitely make more sense, considering. 

. . . wait. If Jason dying really wasn’t a thing . . .

[solxamber]

Can i please request a reader/yuu x rollo where rollo is either visiting or like that popular hc comes to stay and live in ramshackle and over hears reader admitting they have a huge crush on him? Grimm is out here like human. Why. And reader is like he's respectful, he's curious about my world he's the only guy who was ever actually concerned about me, and rollo is like wow the bar is in HELL but I'll blow their mind fr.

Ty!!

Rollo Flamme x reader

Rollo my beloved!!! Thank you for the request <3

Rollo hadn’t planned to spy, but the creaky, haunted vibe of Ramshackle Dorm seemed to have a mind of its own, and before he knew it, he found himself standing outside the door, frozen in place by the sound of your voice.

“Grim, I’m telling you. He’s perfect.”

There was a pause. Grim’s voice cut through the quiet, pure disbelief oozing from his every word. “Henchman. Why. Why him?”

You sighed, like this was the fiftieth time you’d had this conversation, and honestly? It probably was. “He’s respectful, Grim. He’s curious about my world, he’s smart, and—wait for it—he’s the only guy here who has ever been actually concerned about me.”

Rollo blinked. Wait. Was this about him? Surely not—he, the paragon of discipline and order, the man who sought to rid the world of dangerous magic, couldn’t possibly have inspired such devotion. Could he?

Grim made an audible smack sound, probably facepalming in disbelief. “Respectful?! Henchhuman, he hates magic. He tried to murder everyone with flowers! That’s not romantic!”

You groaned. “Okay, but like… he’s intense, yeah, but have you seen the chaos magic causes around here? He’s got a point! And anyway, it’s kinda… hot?”

Grim let out the most exasperated sigh a fire cat can muster. “The bar is in hell, Henchhuman. I mean, the floor. It’s not even a bar anymore; it’s a speed bump. A pebble.”

“Look,” you huffed, “he clears it with room to spare! He listens to me, Grim! He doesn’t call me weird for being from another world. He’s… thoughtful. And he’s got a great voice. And! He didn’t try to blow me up, unlike some people here.”

Rollo’s eyebrows shot up. They really were talking about him. His mind swirled, caught somewhere between confusion, amusement, and, dare he say it, a spark of pride. You thought he was thoughtful? Respectful? Hot?

Meanwhile, Grim’s brain was clearly on the verge of short-circuiting. “Henchhuman, I can’t—look, what about Leona? At least he doesn’t wanna purge all magic. He just naps!”

You snorted. “Leona? He’s practically allergic to effort. At least Rollo has ambition. He cares about something.”

Rollo, leaning against the side of Ramshackle, ran a hand through his hair. Alright, this was too much. He needed to intervene before you said something even more embarrassing for both of you. He straightened up and knocked lightly on the door.

Inside, Grim screeched, “Oh great, you summoned him with your weird crush energy!”

You jumped, scrambling to look composed as you opened the door, revealing Rollo standing there, an unreadable expression on his face. “R-Rollo! What a… surprise! What are you doing here?”

Rollo blinked, his mind still reeling from everything he’d just overheard. “I… was in the area and thought I would stop by. To see how you were adjusting.”

Grim, squinting with all the suspicion of a small goblin, pointed an accusing paw at you. “Adjusting, my tail. They’re over here writing sonnets about how you’re, like, the best thing since sliced bread.”

Rollo’s lips twitched upward in a smug smirk as he glanced between you and Grim. “Is that so?”

You wanted to dissolve into the floor. “Grim is exaggerating.”

Grim was not having it. “Oh, am I? You said, and I quote, ‘he’s the only guy who’s ever cared about me.’”

Your face burned, and you were about two seconds away from chasing Grim into the wilderness. “Grim.”

Rollo, on the other hand, was practically glowing. “It seems I’ve left quite the impression.” He leaned in slightly, voice low and soft. “But I must say, I had no idea your opinion of me was so… glowing.”

You stared, at a total loss for words, while Grim loudly pretended to gag in the background.

Rollo, emboldened by the chaos (and maybe just a tiny bit flattered by how pathetically low your bar was), took a step closer, his tone growing more teasing. “The bar may be in hell, as your companion said, but I’ll be sure to exceed it. I promise you that.”

You blinked, brain short-circuiting under the intensity of his gaze. “Uh—well—thanks?”

Grim threw his paws in the air. “This is the worst. The actual worst.”

Rollo, amused by Grim’s melodramatics, turned his attention back to you. “If you think this is impressive, just wait. You’ll see what true concern looks like.”

You let out a nervous laugh. “What, like… flowers that won’t try to choke everyone?”

Rollo’s eyes glinted, a teasing smile pulling at his lips. “Exactly. Much more benign this time. Perhaps something to show how… thoughtful I can be.”

You could practically hear Grim’s soul leaving his body as he groaned, dragging a paw down his face. “This is the end. I’m leaving. I’ll be at Heartslabyul.”

As Grim shuffled out in defeat, Rollo gave you one last, knowing smile. “Until next time,” he said smoothly, turning to leave. “And perhaps, next time, you won’t need to admit your feelings through your… furry associate.”

You were pretty sure you blacked out for a solid five seconds, and when you came to, Grim was gone, Rollo was halfway down the path, and you were left with the overwhelming feeling that you’d just set yourself up for a whirlwind of chaos.

But to be honest? You were kind of excited about it.

Masterlist

[camelspit]

Fintan Pyren by @crescentpaws

Gethen Ondsinn by @lemontarto

Definition of a sexyman: An often pathetic and/or evil man who is sexy (but perhaps not in the conventional sense)

Propaganda:

Fintan Pyren:

"he's like if a chewed on and half-dead rodent was a twink" anonymous

"Okay, let's be real. Fintan is HOT. Bro's the kind of person that makes you nervous. Good or bad, whatever. And I KNOW he gets a lot of hate, but let's be real. The only reason I'd join their cult- I mean the Neverseen, is because of HIM. Like, @/maxcrescentpaws art of him.... My friend that absolutely HATES Fintan, well, after seeing some fanart...." anonymous

"twink, need i say more" anonymous

"girl idk i just am hyper fixated on this bitch and want gethen to lose by an embarrassing amount" @luigimangionesjailcell

"I love all of them in different ways, but also FINTAN 😍" @kyeiscrying

Gethen Ondsinn:

"this was a bribe. but i do find him interesting and uh. sexy? in a pathetic way? if that makes sense..." anonymous

"pathetic." anonymous

"he's evil and hot. got his fingernails frozen off. pro kidnapper™. stria is in love with him. sexy man. yes. :)" anonymous

"[Verses 1-4]

Gethen Ondsinn: a Tumblr sexyman goldmine

Blonde hair, blue eyes, cheekbones, jawline

But that’s not all, no, he goes beyond conventional

His broken nose and deranged mien are exceptional

Tried and failed to kidnap a preteen

With nothing but a dog unleashed

A pathetic failure, reduced to a retreater

By his future murder victim, the Black Swan’s leader

And when the kidnapping went successfully

He found he could not wipe her memories

He’d failed at his purpose, his craft, his skill

Pathetic failure, the plan went unfulfilled

But then, finally, he’d get to prove his worth

By being brought to Lumenaria, to his mirth

Dumped in the dungeon, where he would recharge and rest

This was where his worth would be put to the test

[Chorus]

This is why you should vote Gethen

For the sexiest of men

In the year twenty-twenty-five

This year Gethen will revive

When it comes to this decision

You should make it with precision

[Verses 5-8]

The wait was the lock, patience was the key

He knew he could wait this out, that soon he’d be free

He had the discipline, the determination, the endurance

He could pull off a feat like this, there would be no hindrance

But he had a higher aim to achieve than plain old freedom

He’d been put here for a very specific reason

For down in this dungeon, where routine was forbidden

Was also the one whose memory had been hidden

The Peace Summit would come, and everyone would see

Just how much the Council always failed to be

The great fantastic leaders they claimed to be

But more importantly, the prisoner would be freed

So it was, he thought, as Lumenaria was falling

The marvelous destruction he’d caused was nothing short of enthralling

But he realized he had one more job to do

So he freed the blade in his cell, it was time get his due

[Chorus]

This is why you should vote Gethen

For the sexiest of men

In the year twenty-twenty-five

This year Gethen will revive

When it comes to this decision

You should make it with precision

[Verses 9-12]

He saw her then, dimmed blue eyes, blonde ringlets and rosy cheeks

He raised his diamond sword, right now so clean and so sleek

To take care of the one who’d underestimated

The Neverseen’s plans, so carefully created

But then the excruciating puffy leader took out Brant

So a different death he would grant, than originally planned

Instead of a pretty head rolling on the ground

He’d have to settle for an abdomen completely gouged

He was no unfortunate villain, he was no diamond in the rough

For him, no one murder would ever, could ever be enough

And so he set forth, patting his diamond sword

He knew without murder, he would soon grow bored

His plans laid out, he knew precisely when next he’d use it

The goblins of Everglen, he would kill as a unit

His beloved sword, through soldiers it would tear

He shrugged, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t told them to beware

[Chorus]

This is why you should vote Gethen

For the sexiest of men

In the year twenty-twenty-five

This year Gethen will revive

When it comes to this decision

You should make it with precision

[Verses 13-16]

This was his trick, this was his trap

He would always tease his enemies with scraps

Of his plans, just enough to toy with his pawns, just to enjoy

The way they bumbled about to try to find out his plan and foil his ploy

As he would do now again, with the Vacker boy, he’d

Get in his head, he would pretend he could prevent what was to come, toying

Not even really a lie, such a shame they’d never cave to violence

The only way to defeat their plans, so down to a science

Like Lumenaria: he’d told them he was perfectly content

So many clues, yet they struggled to prevent

The inevitable, for the Neverseen had sent their most estimable

Candidate to lead their attack on the reputable

Or apparently reputable, he darkly supposed

After all, the idiotic Council only imposed

Arbitrary rules that nobody actually liked

So how was it his fault if he decided to fight?

[Chorus]

This is why you should vote Gethen

For the sexiest of men

In the year twenty-twenty-five

This year Gethen will revive

When it comes to this decision

You should make it with precision" @the-way-astray

Want to submit propaganda? Do so here and it will be added in the next round!

[pinacoladaz]

Roommate Sukuna shows you how to play video games!

A sly smile appears on your face when Sukuna arrives from college in the evening and slams the door, noticeably tired.

"You look like shit."

He rolls his eyes and drops the backpack, throwing himself on the individual sofa "I'm not in the mood, bastard"

Seeing Sukuna this tired was, well, abnormal, and he had been like this for a couple of weeks. Student exploitation must have been tough on his career these days.

Seeing him in that state moved something inside you, you almost wanted to hug him and cuddle with him to take the stress off of him, but hey, it was Sukuna, he probably thought that a train above him was a better relaxation technique.

You look back at the TV, thoughtful. "Hmm... well, are you in the mood of teaching me your video games?" you take a quick look at him, not wanting to be obvious in your concern, maybe he could bully you if he noticed "you told me i need to know real games, whatever that means it might put you in the mood to be unbearabl-"

"Charming" he corrects you, then processes what you just said and freaks out, making a face "why do you want me to be, anyway?"

"Why not?" you pause the TV and look at him quietly.

"Why, though?"

"Why not?"

His eye twitches and you sigh in a complaint at his murderous gaze "I am bored Su-ku-na!"

With a grunt he stands up, ruffling your hair on the way to his room. "Give me 20 minutes, i'll take a shower and turn on the PC."

Said and done, he called you 37 minutes later, because if there's one thing Sukuna absolutely has, it's a bad ability to estimate time. He doesn't seem to care, though.

When you enter his room it is a bit messy as usual, he has his back to you leaning over the computer, clicking. His hair is wet and he only has pajama pants on, no shirt; and it makes you wonder if he is aware of how shocking his appearance can be to mortals like you.

"Listen pet, you have a maximum of 20 minutes to learn how to play Fortnite, at that time my friends will call to do a group game, and you will play pretending to be me" he stands up straight and turns to look at you "understood?"

You take a moment to process his stupidity, then scoff "With all intent to offend, are you insan-"

"I'll talk, not you, i just want to know how much you can ridicule me" shrugs bending down to the computer again.

After a while of mutual insults, while you stand beside him he shows you how he plays so you have an idea of the game, which looks pretty crazy.

When you sit on the edge of his knees to do the training level, you are not even halfway through it when he takes you by the waist to make you stand up and moves the chair to take a pillow, putting it on his legs. You raise an eyebrow when he comes close to make you sit again.

"You are as low as a goblin." He explains neutrally, bordering on the line of mockery, screaming internally at God for you to know nothing about the barely concealable erection between those pajamas.

You follow the training, and you do horribly, the high sensitivity of the character is lame, the lack of aim and of the ability to make many movements at once is also lame. Sukuna puts his hands on yours trying to facilitate the learning process, which actually distracts you and does the opposite.

"No no, hold it like this" he leans close to your ear, resting his chin on your shoulder "slower... mhm, yeah"

Even if you made the stupidest of achievements, he would still mutter things.

"You learn fast"

You thank God that you are turning your back on him so he doesn't notice your ridiculous blush, and the most fucked up part is that you don't even notice a malicious note in his tone, it's purely teaching.

There you consider the church your mother mentioned.

Before you notice it it's already time for the group call and you're STRESSED with a big S; in contrast Sukuna sounds amused every time he points out an advice to you "It's just a game, brat, have fun"

"I don't know Ryomen, who will be on the call?"

He stays silent for a moment. "Choso, Yuji and i don't know if Gojo has time, why the concern?" he hits you on the head with his finger "Do you like any of them?"

The audacity.

"Isn't Gojo the one you threatened to kill a while ago? And actually- actually what the fuck! Why do you relate everything with me liking someon-"

The conversation is interrupted by the call notification, Sukuna answers by putting two fingers on your mouth so that you shut up.

After a scandalous greeting and a confirmation of Gojo's participation, the game starts, not even three minutes have passed when they are already throwing shit at Sukuna.

"Why are you so useless? you had it literally in front of you??? what the fuck Sukuna" Although Gojo started out mocking, he ended up insulting him (or you lmao) mercilessly.

"Why are you going to the other side? pick up the box, ASSHOLE!" Yuji was getting anxious, and so did you, Sukuna only made excuses saying that the wifi was weak while pinching you, amused, and Choso said nothing for a while, but at some point finally spoke.

"Bro why are you playing like you're gay."

There was a moment of silence which was broken by the screams of Gojo and Yuji, taking advantage of the moment you made a sign to Sukuna that you gave up.

"Be gentle, dickheads" Sukuna murmurs in a mock taking control of the PC, but without taking you off, his arms simply surrounded you "there's a lady present"

a/n: sorry, i'm really bad at video games, i don't know anything about them, i gave it my all🙏🏻

[nanamineedstherapy]

Ooga Booga Toji gets Hunted

Previous Chapter: Ooga Booga Sukuna gets Reverse Bonked (Tumblr/Ao3)

Summary: Prehistoric, period-accurate Neanderthal JJK daddies courting you with grunts, rocks, & zero verbal communication. Just prehistoric buffoonery. A/N: BRO. LISTEN. You ever just wake up & think, what if Toji was a little cavewife? What if he was bonked over the head like a prehistoric Looney Tunes character & dragged into domestic life against his will? What if a woman looked at him & went yes, I will be taking this like she was picking out a melon at the market? I am here to answer these questions. This fic is 90% brain damage & 10% actual words. Please enjoy Himbo Toji Arc. As usual, => This is a different reader, but the same Toji—unfortunately for you. => No suggestive bits in this one. => This is Toji’s chapter, but Gojo, Sukuna & Nanami are also here. Next chapter will be for Suguru, hopefully in a day or two. The other guys are getting their solo stories, with guest appearances in each other’s on a regular. So I recommend reading all of them, but I can’t force you to make good life choices.

Fushiguro Toji is used to chasing.

He chases mammoths.

He chases sabertooths.

He chases Gojo (his natural prey).

He is not used to being chased.

And yet, here he is.

Being hunted.

By you.

It’s been days. Everywhere he goes, you appear.

At first, he thinks he’s imagining things.

Shadows in the trees. Strange footprints in the mud.

A weird feeling of being watched.

But then—

He sees you.

Crouched behind a bush. Unblinking. Staring.

The next day? You are closer.

The next night? He wakes up to find you squatting near his fire.

Watching.

No blink. No sound.

Just raw, feral focus.

Toji feels fear for the first time in his life.

He grunts. (What want?)

You stay unmoving, unanswering.

Toji’s heart stops.

It’s terrifying.

It’s confusing.

It’s starting to do things to him.

(Things he doesn’t want to think about. Things that make him grunt angrily and punch rocks to feel manly again.)

---

At dawn, he sneaks away from the tribe. Takes only his spear.

Travels far.

Through forest. Over rivers. Past rival tribe (he still punches Gojo on way).

At some point in the night, Toji stops to drink water.

Then he hears it.

Twig snap!!!

He looks up.

You.

Squatting. Staring. Again.

Like a cursed cave goblin.

Toji almost chokes on his own spit.

You have been tracking him. Following his scent. Watching him from the trees like some squirrel.

Toji doesn’t know why.

Doesn’t know if you want to mate him or murder him.

(Both are possibilities.)

You grin.

Then you jump.

Toji dodges. Fast. He’s the best hunter in the tribe.

But you’re faster.

Rock swings. Toji barely avoids it.

You grunt. (Tsk. Fast.)

Toji tries to fight back.

Tries to assert dominance.

You only grin wider.

Toji’s heart beats wrong.

Then—

BONK!!!

Rock hits skull.

World goes dark.

---

When he wakes up—head throbbing, vision blurry—he is in a cave.

Not his cave.

Your cave.

He is not tied up, but he might as well be.

You are blocking the exit.

And watching him.

Like a feral animal guarding its prize.

Toji grunts. (Let me go.)

You grunt back. (No.)

Toji try push past.

You grab his jaw. Inspect.

Toji freezes.

Oh.

Oh no.

This is how he inspects meat.

You are checking his quality.

Like he is a fucking rabbit.

Toji snarl. (I NOT RABBIT.)

You pat his cheek. (Good strong mate.)

Toji’s instincts scream.

He is prey now.

---

Toji tries to leave.

You drag him back.

Toji refuses to eat food.

You shove it in his mouth.

Toji chokes. Gags. Tries spit it out.

You glare.

Toji chews.

You pat his head. (Good boy.)

Toji stares at wall. Existential crisis.

---

Toji wakes up to the worst thing imaginable.

He is being scrubbed.

Like some mangy, flea-infested stray.

In the river.

By you.

Toji snarls. Fights. Thrashes like a cornered beast.

Bites your arm.

You bonk him.

Toji goes limp.

You do not care.

You hold him down. Scrub harder.

At some point, he stops fighting. Sits there. Pouting.

You click your tongue. (Stinky mate.)

Toji glares. Growls. Does his best to look scary. (He is not scary. He is wet.)

Then—

Laughter.

Toji turns.

Gojo.

That damn bastard is sitting right next to him—also being scrubbed by his own mate.

Grinning at Toji.

Mocking.

Enjoying his suffering.

Toji sees red.

He lunges.

You grab his face.

Shove him back. Push him underwater.

Toji comes up, sputtering. Furious. Drenched.

Gojo?

Cackling.

It is horrible.

It is humiliating.

It is—

Effective.

Because one day?

Toji just... stops fighting.

---

Now, he sits by fire.

Eats willingly.

Watches you.

Eyes narrowed.

You grunt. (Good mate.)

Toji exhales. Defeated.

But when you leave the cave to hunt?

He does not run.

Not because he is weak.

Not because you broke him.

But because...

The food is good.

The furs are warm.

And you are kind of hot.

Oh.

Oh no.

HE LIKES THIS.

Toji sighs. Stares at his hands.

Instead of running—

He sharpens your spear.

---

One day, you return to the cave.

Toji is... rearranging the furs.

You grunt. (What doing?)

He grunts back. (Making cave better. You live like animal.)

You tilt head. (Good mate.)

Toji grumbles.

But does not deny it.

---

Later, he carves mammoth figurine.

Leaves it by your sleeping spot.

You find it. Grin.

Toji pretends not to notice.

That night?

You return from hunt.

Drop fresh kill at his feet.

Toji smirks.

(Good hunter,) he grunts.

You nod.

And just like that—

The best hunter in the tribe becomes the best house-husband in the valley.

---

The next day, Sukuna is also suffering.

He sits by river.

Scowling. Wet.

Across from him, Toji and Gojo. Also wet.

They exchange knowing looks.

They understand now.

There is no escaping this fate.

Sukuna growls. Crosses arms. Refuses to look at his own mate.

She clicks her tongue.

Sukuna bares teeth. Hisses.

She grabs his face. Scrubs harder.

Gojo snickers.

Sukuna swings.

Gets grabbed. Dunked underwater.

Emerges. Coughing. Furious. Betrayed by gods.

Toji shakes head. (Stop fighting. No win.)

Sukuna glares.

Will never stop fighting.

Will never—

---

Later.

Nanami passed by, smugly carring his laughing mate on his back like a monkey.

Sukuna sits by the tribe fire. Pouting.

He has been fed.

Dried.

His hair braided.

His mate hums.

He grumbles.

Sharpens her spear.

Toji and Gojo sigh in solidarity.

They all stare into the flames.

The fire of their lost freedom.

The era of wild, untamed men is over.

Now they are simply... husbands.

---

Toji wakes up to the smell of smoke.

This is not unusual. Caves are smoky. Fire is life.

What is unusual?

He is hanging upside down.

Like a slaughtered deer in a butcher’s hut.

Like some offering to gods.

Like some sacrificial goat.

Feet tied together with vines.

Dangling from a tree branch.

Swaying gently.

Toji blinks.

Toji processes.

Toji sees you.

Crouched by fire.

Sharpening a flint knife. Humming.

Toji’s entire soul malfunctions.

He howls. (What the—)

Thrashes. Swings like an overgrown fruit.

Branch creaks.

You look up. Squint. Grunt. (Squirmy meat.)

Toji freezes.

Meat?

Did you just say meat?

Have you been grunting ‘meat’ instead of ‘mate’ this whole time and it got lost in translation???

NO. NO NO NO.

He needs to leave. Now.

You stand. Walk over.

Sniff him.

You poke his bicep.

Squeeze his asscheeks.

Punch his thigh. (OW.)

You nod. Satisfied.

Give an approving grunt. (Good meat. Strong. Juicy.)

Had you been raring him like cattle this whole time, feeding him, bathing him? Just to cut him down.

Toji’s survival instincts start playing the drums. ( WAIT. STOP. NO MEAT. AM MATE. )

You pause. (Mate?)

(YES. MATE.)

You frown.

(But... meat.)

(NO. MATE.)

You tilt your head, considering.

(Mate... better than meat?)

(YES. MATE BETTER.)

Silence.

You stare at him. Deep in thought.

Too much thought.

Toji doesn't have time for contemplation.

His ass is burning.

His entire back is roasting over the fire.

With a snarl, he flexes, yanks, snaps the branch clean in half, and lands—

Right on his ass.

He groans. Grumbles. Rubs his tailbone.

(Crazy mate,) he grunts.

You squat next to him.

Poke his cheek and grunt.

(Mate strong. Mate fast. Mate... pretty.)

Toji bluescreens. (Pretty???)

You nod. (Pretty.)

Toji stares into the void, grits teeth. Refuses to blush.

Fails.

This is not how he expected his day to go.

---

Now Toji is in charge.

He builds a bigger fire.

Skins the boar.

Roasts the meat perfectly.

You watch.

Silently.

Eyes narrowed.

Toji feels the weight of your stare.

The burning intensity.

Toji has been watched many ways before.

Never like this.

Not with the focused hunger of a woman planning long-term investment.

You grunt. (Good hunter.)

Toji smirks. Hands you food.

You accept.

Chew. Nodding.

You grunt. (Mate strong. Mate smart. Mate... good cook.)

Toji leans closer. (Yes. Good mate.)

Your gaze flicks to his jawline.

To his biceps.

Back to the meat in his hands.

Something about seeing him like this—half-naked, covered in soot, feeding you—

You grunt. (Very pretty mate.)

Toji coughs.

Adjusts his sitting position.

Avoids your very direct gaze.

Keeps his eyes on the fire.

For the first time in his life—

Toji does not know if he is the hunter or the hunted.

---

Toji is happy.

He was hunted. He was bonked. He was stolen.

But now? Now he loves it.

At first, Toji resisted. He was a man of instinct, survival, and brute strength. But then he saw you—wild, unhinged, terrifying. You cracked him over the head with a rock, dragged him back to your cave, and called it mating.

He adapted. Now he thrives.

Because Toji is a smug bastard.

And you? You are insane.

When Toji walks through the tribe, he is unbearable.

Every time some poor excuse of a man dares to look his way, he flashes his big, sharp teeth like a trophy display.

"Yes. My mate chose me."

"Yes. My mate strong."

"Yes. My mate will birth strong cubs."

And if any of those weaklings so much as glance at you for too long?

Toji growls. Deep. Menacing. (She is mine. You weak. I kill you.)

This is a problem.

Not because of the men.

But because of the women.

The first time a woman dared look at Toji for too long, you did not hesitate.

You picked up a rock.

And launched it.

The woman barely dodged. Screamed. Ran.

Toji blinked. Then tilted his head, watching you with interest. Your eyes were wild. He grinned.

This happens again. And again.

Woman look? You grunt. (No.)

You pick rock.

You throw rock.

Woman scream. Dodge. Run.

Toji watches, deeply amused.

He looks at you. Sees the crazy in your eyes.

His grin widens.

It keeps happening.

Woman look? You throw rock.

Woman talk near Toji? You chase with stick.

One woman touches his arm?

Oh.

Oh, you tackle.

You growl. Show teeth.

The woman cries.

Toji loves this.

Whenever you chase women away, he puffs out his chest. Stands taller. Grunts at the other men with smug satisfaction. "My mate insane. Yours could never."

Nanami, watching this unfold daily, finally mutters, “You need to control mate.”

Toji, watching you prepare another rock-throwing attack: “Why would I do that?”

You throw rock at Nanami.

Nanami dodges.

Then notices his mate doing the exact same thing—chasing Toji’s mate around with a burning stick.

Nanami tries to hide his smile.

Fails miserably.

---

Eventually, the chief steps in.

Because too many women have fled.

Because you have almost killed three.

Because everyone is terrified.

The chief grunts. (No more. No more crazy mate.)

Toji grunts back. (Why?)

Chief grunts harder. (Too many women cry.)

Toji, picking his teeth lazily, grunts back. (No.)

The chief’s brow twitches, he howls. (If she does it again, you both leave the tribe.)

Toji shrugs. Looks at you.

You grin.

And throw another rock.

Directly at chief Yaga.

The chief glares.

Picks up his spear to chase you both.

Toji smirks, grabs your waist, lifts you onto his shoulder.

And runs back to your cave with record speed.

And that is how Toji and his insane mate almost got kicked out of the tribe.

Toji, grinning the entire time. (My mate best.)

Toji happy.

---

A/N: Alright, tell me the truth.

Choose wisely. History will judge you. (Drop your answer in the comments or I will throw a rock at you.)

Next Chapter: Ooga Booga Suguwu gets mated to Female Mowgli after Neanderthal BL Betrayal (Tumblr/Ao3)

All Works Masterlist

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

i keep laughing when i read the dnd campaign with the beast pirates-

now i need to see how it would go with shanks and his crew

Imagine DND game night with the Red Hair pirates

Yassop: *the reluctant DM* All alright, so you've all fallen through a sinkhole and landed in the goblin King's throne room. Benn's paladin lands directly on the heir to the goblin throne, dealing *rolls dice* 17 points crush damage, and you killed him.

Benn: oh come on, I didn't even do anything.

Yassop: the goblin king, with his too-tight pants, ruffly white shirt, and long blond hair, launches himself to his feet. And in a booming voice, he yelled out, "These outsiders have murdered my son! Throw them in the dungeon!"

You: but it was Benn's fat ass that did it! Why do I have to go to the dungeon?

Yassop: The goblin king pauses, clearly thinking it over, after a moment he says, "Fine, that one's excused," before yelling, "but the rest go to the dungeon!"

Lime Juice: fuck me.

Shanks: what the fuck, we just broke out of jail less than three in-game hours ago!

Yassop: *definitely not punishing them for murdering an important NPC, and is trying to buy himself time to figure out what to do* Huh, I hadn't noticed...

Lucky Roux: For the love of god!

Yassop: Anyway, the entire party, minus (y/n) Dragon born, is taken to the dungeon. The goblin king turns to your dragon-born and looks you over, "Now, what shall we do with you?"

You: I'd like to roll a perception check, I'd like to know the vibe of the goblin king's court, from the nobles to the servants. *Rolls a D20* Fifteen with my plus eight modifiers, so twenty-three.

Yassop: Both groups, nobles, and serfs, are terrified of their king. You can see that a servant in the far corner has bandages under his shirt. It appears that he's been flogged recently. You notice, the nobles' eyes darting nervously as they mutter to one another.

You: I'd like to offer my services to his majesty, as a bard.

Yassop: The king scoffs, "I have plenty of bards, I have no use for another, you shall tend to the hearths of my castle. Go, start with the kitchens." You are taken to the kitchens and see it's dark, humid, hot, and crowded. The servants are wary of you, you see many of them are injured, and gaunt. The châtelaine approaches you and hands you a large rusty ring of keys and a map. She tells you your responsibilities are to make sure all the fires in the castle are lit.

You: and how much am I paid?

Yassop: she scoffs, "Your pay is food in your belly, a roof over your head, and clothes on your back. Now get started." And she leaves in a huff.

You: I'd like to persuade the servants to work together to overthrow the Goblin King because they deserve fair wages and safe working conditions.

Lime Juice: *chortling,* of course, unionizing them is your first move.

Yassop: *frustrated,* roll a d20.

You: *rolls* nat twenty, let's fucking go!!

Yassop: you inspire a popular servant to take the lead, and they overthrow the goblin King. The servants beat him to death. *Rubbing his temples in irritation*

You: I free the group from the dungeon while the servants deal with the king, using the keys and map the châtelaine gave me.

Shanks: Before we leave, can we look for treasure?

You: .... let's only take a reasonable amount, we wouldn't want to make them our enemies.

Benn: very wise.

List of Up-and-coming works || Master list || Twitter| Kofi || Patreon

[hyperfix-wip]

The Price of Conviction

Pairing: Prowler!Hobie Brown x Fem!Spider!Reader

Word count: 2k

Summary: What happens when the Prowler finds out the spider vigilante all the criminals are hunting down is the love of his life?

Author's Note: The first post of 2025, and I decide to kick it off with angst of all things 🥲 I would say sorry, but I low key am not... Anyways, big shoutout to @pinksugarscrub for beta reading this fic! Also tagging @the-kr8tor , @frostbitten-writer , and @rexlroze for our one discussion a long time ago as well as @seasharkz for their comment on it 😇

Tags: Prowler!Hobie, Spider!R, Angst, Lovers to (Future) Enemies, TW Violence, TW Graphic Violence, TW Slight Body Horror, TW Thoughts of Death, TW Conspiracy to Murder, TW Anxiety and Spiralling, Brief Mention of US Healthcare System, No Y/N

This was supposed to be an easy job for Hobie.

That was what that bastard Kingpin told him earlier this afternoon. All he had to do was hunt down that spider hero that suddenly popped out of nowhere a year ago. That spider that started getting attention from everybody in the Underworld the first time they stopped one of Green Goblin’s attacks in Central Park. That spider that took down Sandman during one of his “freakout” sandstorms all over New York and sent his ass to Ryker’s. That damn spider that exposed the Sinister Six– the top people who controlled the Underworld– to the public, in turn fucking over the rest of the criminals as those blue pigs in the NYPD tried to hunt down every single criminal and enforce all security in every bank, jewelry store, politicians and CEOs’ houses or wherever money can be found.

That spider was fucking up everybody’s money– fucking up his money. Money he was trying to save up to finally leave this city, this life, behind him. To buy a damn boat and sail away from all the crime and violence in the Underworld. To invest in a prosthetic arm that wasn’t built by some scraps of plastic and metal and spite for the bullshit health insurance company policies.

But most of all, to finally give you– his girlfriend, the love of his life– the life you deserved. To live in your own home rather than pay rent at a shitty studio apartment. To go out on actual dates rather than just buying greasy pizza at that disgusting pizza parlor down the street. To buy you actual presents and nice clothes rather than stealing them from those ridiculously expensive department stores. To finally buy you a ring like the two of you always talked about for years, to get down on one knee in front of you and wait for you to say yes, to watch you walk down the aisle in a beautiful white dress he knew you always wanted to wear.

That damn spider was fucking all of that up for him, and if getting rid of that infuriating pest gave him all the money Kingpin was willing to shell out for a mere bounty, then he was signing that dotted line. He would gladly drag that spider by the neck, through gravel and broken glass, like a rag doll. He would gladly break that spider’s arms and legs and fling them over the tallest building to watch them splatter over the sidewalk. He would gladly stab that spider through the chest with his clawed gauntlet, watching their blood slowly run down his chromed arm while they gasped out the last of their breath.

This job was supposed to be fucking easy.

So why the fuck are you under that mask?

Why the fuck are you standing in front of him in that stupid red and blue suit? Why the fuck are you just standing there in the middle of your guys’ bedroom, giving him your usual beautiful smile? Why the FUCK are you just looking at him with the same hope and love in your eyes with that godforsaken mask in your hand?

The smile on your face started to falter the longer he stared at you in stunned disbelief. “Baby?”

God, don’t call him baby. Not when you’re in that damn suit.

Hobie continues to stare at you from his work desk, his hand clutching onto his fake arm that he was about to take off. Sharp tingles shoot up from his amputated arm, the base of his elbow screaming underneath his makeshift prosthetic, the metal around his limb chafing his skin and making the tingles worse. White noise screams in his ears, piercing through his rampant thoughts, while his body refuses to move from his spot.

You nervously squirm under his intense scrutiny as you glance down at the floor, suddenly finding the scuff on your shoe interesting while you ignore his eyes burning into your very being.

“I-I know this is a lot,” you swallow the lump lodged in the back of your throat before looking back up to the shadows hiding his eyes, “but I can explain…”

You slowly cross through the cramped bedroom, shuffling through the crack between his desk and the bed until you’re right in front of him. Your fingers curl into themselves, itching to pick at your cuticles through the web-lined gloves.

“So, uh… y’know how I got really sick right after I finished my story on Alchemax? The one about their new genetics department?” you start off, the ghosts of the fluctuating chills and hot flashes rushing down your spine haunting you, the muscle memory of your throat burning from dry heaving bile. “Something actually happened while I was there…”

Despite your sheepish reassurance, your hands still tremble as you slowly take off your left glove by the middle finger sleeve, exposing your skin little by little, until you peel it off and reveal two small dark bite marks with small web-like veins sprouting around your ring finger.

“I got bit by a spider over there, and I was fine the whole day until, y’know… I wasn’t.”

Hobie’s heart seizes as a flashback of finding you collapsed and convulsing on the bathroom floor, gagging and hacking out yellow-white foam onto the checkered tile, forces itself up the forefront of his mind. That moment still sends a wave of panic over his body.

“I mean, I got better the day after, but…” your voice wavers as you glance up at the ceiling, your heart rattling against your ribs, before you slowly curl your ring and middle fingers into the middle of your palm. Hesitation lingers in your fingers, but the moment you press them against your palm, a thick web-like rope shoots out of your wrist and sticks onto the ceiling. You swallow the bitter bile down your throat before you shakily wrap your free hand around the web and slowly climb up, catching the quick gasp from his lips while his eyes follow your dangling figure.

An overwhelming urge to scream bubbles up in Hobie’s chest as he continues to stare at this unexpected nightmare. His loving, sweet, normal girlfriend is hanging off the fucking ceiling, climbing and sticking herself onto the ceiling, crawling across by padding your hands onto the surface while wearing a stupid spandex suit like a child in a Halloween costume playing on the monkey bars.

This. Can’t. Be. Happening.

Your voice gradually muffles out through his ears while white noise starts to ring in his head again. All the news articles and rumors from the Underworld about that damn spider suddenly flood his mind, but denial still clings onto him.

You, his girlfriend? You, who would yelp and quickly smack his hand away for pinching your ass? Who would run away when a fly buzzes too close to your ear? Who would rather swallow needles than to tell a fast food worker they got your order wrong? Who would rather back off from an argument than to dig yourself deeper into it?

You stopped that crazy Green Goblin from destroying Central Park? You sent Sandman to Ryker’s? You took down The Lizard— one of the members of the Sinister Six— in front of the press and exposed the rest of them and the Underworld to the public?

You’re the one Kingpin put a bounty on? The one everyone in the Underworld is hunting down? The one everyone wants dead?

Horror trembles in Hobie’s eyes as the spider he had in his mind slowly morphed into you. The sick image of him dragging your body across the floor churns his stomach. The idea of your body falling down until you hit the pavement like a bouncing ball nearly makes him gag. The thought of the light in your eyes being snuffed out in front of you while blood from your fatal wound on your chest runs down his clawed prosthetic gauntlet, hanging limp by his hand, sends him to an overwhelming spiral of despair.

God, not you. Anyone but you.

Oblivious to Hobie’s inner turmoil, you unstick yourself from the ceiling and drop down onto the bed feet first, bouncing up in the air before landing back down on the spring mattress on your rear. Anxiety fills your eyes and chest as you keep your eye on his rigid figure, his knuckles turning white from gripping onto his prosthetic arm for dear life, before you frantically rush to his side.

“Hobie? Baby?”

For once your voice falls on deaf ears, and panic squeezes at your lungs. Your heart lurches the moment he flinches from your touch, your hands trembling as you try to pry his hand away from the makeshift arm with as little strength as you can without hurting him.

“Baby, please talk to me,” you whisper-plead to him while tears prick up in your eyes. “I need you to talk to me, please.”

When his hand finally lets go, you desperately thread your fingers through his and squeeze, and a small flicker of relief pricks your chest the moment he briefly squeezes back before you keep going.

“I know this is hard to believe, but I need you to.” Fear and heartbreak clings to your throat while you blink away some stray tears and kneel in front of him. “I’m trying to keep New York safe– not just in general, but for you, me, us!-- but I don’t know if something is gonna happen to me out there later on, or if something’s gonna happen to you–”

A sharp hiccup sneaks up your throat before you could stop it, and more tears drip down your face as you bite back a sob and press your lips against his knuckles. “I love you so much, baby, I can’t lose you…”

The moment you utter those words, Hobie finally manages to break through his spiral and pull you into his embrace, running his fingers through your hair while the prosthetic arm wraps around your waist and pulls you between his legs and against his chest. You tense up from the sudden movement, but as his warmth slowly seeps into your body, the rest of your tears finally stream down your face before you bury your face in his chest and strangle out another sob.

“God, I can’t lose you, Hobie,” your voice cracks with each painful breath, “I can’t do this without you, please don’t leave me–”

Anguish floods in Hobie’s glassy eyes as he clings to you for dear life, pressing his lips hard against the top of your head, silently praying that this whole ordeal is just a fucked up nightmare for him while you continue to beg him not leave you for lying to him for a year.

The sick, twisted irony of it all– you, a vigilante hero, agonizing over losing him. Meanwhile, just hours ago, he relished the idea of killing you for money.

Hobie nearly gags from the bile clinging to his throat, but he struggles to swallow it down as he shushes against your head and gently rocks you back and forth in his arms.

“It’s...it’s gonna be okay,” he finally croaks out, hating how the blatant bittersweet lie easily spills through his lips. “It’s gonna be okay, I’m right here. Nothing’s gonna happen to me, nothing’s gonna happen to us…”

His desperate attempt of reassuring you– and himself– only worsens your cries as you snake your arms around his waist and cling to the back of his shirt, repeatedly stabbing him in the heart with each tear running down your eyes and seeping into the cotton fabric. Guilt and despair looms over his shoulders as he hiccups his own frustrated cry, struggling to push away the intrusive temptation of the bounty and fear of losing you, but he continues to silently pray for your forgiveness while feeding you more poisoned sweet lies, if only for them to somehow miraculously become true.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to us…”

[mossygrovel]

Sighs. Ulysses having a "talk" with Fable.

"Do you see how every parent is with their child here? Do you see it? See the pattern?"

"They're no different than me."

"Bullshit. They are gentle with their children. They are kind and forgiving."

"Do you see how Kai is gentle with her son? How Wanda is gentle with her family? How much kindness they show?"

"As am I."

"No you're not. Look at how Icarus is with you! I don't think there's been a moment where he hasn't been disassociated in the time that you have been here."

"..."

"You have never been kind or caring to them. You've used them, hurt them. You're a bad person. And an even sadder, sorryier excuse of a father."

"What about-"

"I swear to the gods that remain if you say Rae and Enderian, I will shove my trident where the sun doesn't shine."

".."

"You're wife is in a tube, you've murdered 2 of your siblings, your child is self destructing and-"

"My children you mean."

"I meant what I said, you goblin shark. When you look at Rae Morningstar, what part of him makes you think he has EVER wanted to be your son? What part of him has EVER looked like you?"

"His wits."

"He got those from his mothers. And as a matter of fact, what happened when he called you dad? The one and only time he's ever done it? What happened to him, Fable?"

"..."

"You slapped him across the face. And had the audacity to wonder why he ran away everyday. Why he had so much fear around you and Icarus. You and your child, are cowards. Now, stay away from my kid and his family."

ULYSSES DESERVES TO BE UPSET

[dracobrooklyn]

Durge x Reader Part 2

When you really like the design of the Cannon DragonBorn and his voice is like butter making you melt. I was sad you can't romance him and your the playable character instead. So Here I am going to write Headcannons of what if he was a romanceable NPC that was in your party.These are my thoughts taking bits and pieces from the Cannon and putting my thoughts and ideas into Durge.

|| MDNI || 18+ this will contain Themes of Language, Violence, and of course Sexual Content. DO NOT READ!!

Cannon!Durge x Tav!Fem!Reader

This will be in a Fem!Reader POV!!

Word count: 1,237

Part 2: Getting Closer.

TW: Death, the Mention of killing, fantasizing murder, nudity, Smut, and Oral sex.

Durge being in a party after slaying the Goblins and saving the Teifling folk and saving them from the Druids grove (He honestly wish he would have burn their tree down, cause fuck those guys). Everyone seem to be having a good time... well he really didn't have a good time. Shall we list those reasons? Well for one thing, he tried so hard to distract himself trying to block out those images of his nightmare. But the wine wasn't doing anything for him, guess Durge would have to drink at least 6 barrels of wine... but that wasn't happening, the other thing he wasn't a huge fan of being with so many people. People cheering him as a hero! It was nice for at least 2 seconds... but then it got more annoying that each drunk teifling came up to him "You are a hero mate, cheers!". He was trying to find you in all this madness. Some sort of familiarity and safety. But finding you, he saw you talking to Astarion. He was about to step up a little, but he noticed that he was flirting with you, and you seem to like it a lot. Kinda broke his little dark heart.

Deep down Durge wanted to grab Astarion. He wanted to choke him, he wanted to rip him apart, just to see his head fall of his shoulders, just to see him dead onto the ground and rip his intestines out feasting onto him... Durge felt sick all of a sudden, what was that? Why was he thinking that way? He had to get away, he needed air. He needed distraction. He then bumped into a teifling. Pretty little thing, Durge found out her name was Alfira, she talked with him, telling him how brave he was against the Goblins. Asking on what Lyrics she should use for her song... oh she was a bard. fantastic. Durge also noticed you were staring... he looked back at Alfira and even tried at his hand on flirting, just to maybe... maybe make you a little jealous? Even offered to have a one night stand with Alfira. Of course she took it. Leading her away from prying eyes into the forest.

Durge didn't take his time with stripping off his clothes, getting on top of Alfira kissing her, marking her with hickey's and bite marks from his teeth. Gods this was a perfect distraction. A good ol fuck to pass the night. Durge has a pretty good size for his cock and yes, Durge has a knot. He is pretty good in sex, so Alfira did sound like she was enjoying it. How he trailed his nips, and licking towards her breast, to her navel and finally to her core. Tasting her nectar that was glistening on her folds. She did taste divine... but he couldn't help but replace Alfira's face with yours. What would you sound like if he went down on you... what would you taste like? How soft and warm you would be in his claws, how he would made you came into his mouth, into his jaws to taste your sweet release. "jacida nhee kiabil". It was a blur though... he was so lost in the pleasure he became so feral... and once out of his haze he smelled... blood. He shook his head and looked down seeing was the once alive Alfira... dead, with her intestines ripped out all over the place. Durge standing back and even looked down at his hands... oh gods it's on him... did he do that? Panic coursed through his body. What has he done?!! He has to hide the body quick! He did so throwing her down the river watching it float away feeling sick... dirty... fucked up. He wash's himself in the river to get rid of the blood on his face and hands. God he felt sick, he needed to get back to camp, he needed sleep.

Durge of course not being able to sleep, he of course goes to walk out into the night, away from the party. The Nightmares were not helping either. He didn't want to wake you either. He was too busy trying to piece together the images from his images. He did write into the Journal you gave him but it still wasn't making any sense. Until he see's a random stranger appear-- oh god it's ugly! Was it a Goblin? The creature claimed to be your servant. A servant? Wait... was he a prince? Oh no the joke was biting him in the ass now. The creature called himself Sceleritas, a one hell of a butler he puts it. He must know you. He kept calling you by your name Durge. It was nice... he guessed? He had so many questions, he asked a few. Learning where he came from, and was made to guide him and help... murder people? Wait kill people? "That's how I found you, I could smell the Bards dead stench from across the sea!". Oh gods Durge felt sick. He wanted nothing to do with him. Sceleritas was a little sad to see his faithful master dismiss him so soon. But he wanted away... he needed you. You felt someone shaking you awake, looking up from your sleep gaze, you could see Durge's face that was filled with dredge and fear. You asked him what was wrong. He asked if you both could be in his tent to talk... just to help him fall asleep. You agreed of course. Anything for your friend Durge. You guys did talk almost all night, he seemed to calm down. That was good. "So are you and Alfira together?" you asked Durge "What? No we uh... we just uh... had a one night stand is all." Durge replied feeling nervous all of a sudden. "Oh... I was hoping to spend more time in the party but you were gone for me to find you." you said to him. "...I thought you wanted to be with Astarion?" Durge asked "didn't he... offer to give you a good time?" "Oh he did, but I declined him." you said to him "He's not my type." "Oh." Durge was relieved. Thought you didn't need to know that... no. Besides you wouldn't want to be with a... memory loss murderer. No he can't let you find out about what he did no... it would be awful. He lose you in an instant. "Did you want to try and get some sleep?' You asked Durge tilting your head to the side. Durge definitely did blush, the way you looked at him made him feel butterflies in his stomach. Boiling within his very core. He was smitten with you. You rejected the pale elf and you wanted to be with Durge instead. Pride was welling inside him. Maybe he did have a chance... maybe... praying to the gods. "Thank you for the talk." He says to you "I feel more... refreshed, please get some sleep itov." "itov?" you asked him "Was that draconic?" Oh shit "uh yes, it means friend." he lied of course... and you fell for it thank goodness. You left Durge to rest telling him goodnight as you walk back to your bed roll. And Durge watching you leave as he says softly "mel'thurkear." as he curls up to sleep... to try and hope no more nightmares would plague his mind tonight.

Draconic Translation: jacida nhee kiabil- His Sweet Companion. itov-Love mel'thurkear- Goodnight.

[sebastianswallows]

Beautiful memories — Chapter 1

— PAIRING: Sebastian Sallow x F!MC (aged up)

— SYNOPSIS: Sebastian is sentenced to Azkaban for six months. When he is released, he finds MC is expecting a child, and is filled with anger and jealousy and confusion. He just doesn't know the child is his yet.

— WARNINGS: angst, just a lot of angst (eventually there will be fluff and smut, but in later chapters)

— WORDCOUNT: 2.7k

— A/N: This fic is for a prompt by @pugsnotdrugs92, and I was also asked to write a similar fic by at least one anon.

Sadly, since she gave me that prompt, Pugs has deleted her blog. I have just learned this tonight and I am... pretty damn upset, I'll say that (not at her of course 💗, but at what caused it).

I will just say that if you get hate from anyone, block them, block indiscriminately until you have peace. I hope that Pugs (and anyone who deleted their blog as part of this mess) will make an account on this hellsite again one day <3

Anyway! On with the fic. Hope you enjoy it, my dears 🌺

Nobody had any idea who turned Sebastian in. It came so unexpectedly that they almost didn’t believe it when he happened. After all, it had been two years since Solomon’s death, and everyone in Feldcroft believed he died in his sleep.

“I know it isn’t me,” she said tearfully to Ominis one day, “and I know it isn’t you.”

“And it wasn’t Anne either,” said Ominis with a shake of his head.

“Are you sure? She still isn’t speaking to Sebastian.”

“She protected him this whole time, why would she report him to the ministry now? She might not forgive Sebastian, but she wouldn’t do this to him…”

Their suspicions fell on Leander, or the goblins, or any number of rivals Sebastian had made, but none of their suspects were likely to even know the truth about what happened that day in the catacomb. It therefore stood to reason that someone had overheard them speaking about it at some point, but that did little to narrow it down — for all they knew, one of the portraits had heard them and reported it to the Headmaster.

Ultimately, it didn’t matter who told the Aurors about it. The trio rushed through their N.E.W.T.S. half-heartedly, with Sebastian unsurprisingly scoring lower than he ever had, and in their spare time they spoke of nothing but the upcoming trial.

They’d even arranged for a solicitor for Sebastian, and visited him via floo in London, but he only spoke to his client in private. And every time Sebastian walked out of the wizard’s office, he looked more discouraged than the last.

The trial took place during summer, right after their 7th year ended. Both she and Ominis attended it every day. Imelda came sometimes as well, and Poppy, and Lucan — even Garreth attended on two occasions. He’d never liked Sebastian much, but he seemed to put aside his feelings throughout all of this.

“They don’t mean to send him there, do they?” he whispered as they sat outside the courtroom one sweltering afternoon.

“Where else?” said Imelda. “They closed all the other wizarding prisons centuries ago.”

“But he’s supposed to have done it while he was still a student…”

“What d’you expect? That they’ll give him detention for murder?”

“No, but…”

“You don’t think he really did it, do you, Imelda?” asked Poppy, leaning over Garreth.

“He didn’t,” said Ominis without even glancing their way.

“That’s right,” she said from beside Ominis. “Sebastian’s done nothing wrong.”

The trial went badly almost from the start. The judge was a grey old wizard in a funny wig, and there was no jury to speak of. He seemed to treat the death of a former Auror, even one of such ill repute as Solomon, quite seriously. The Prosecution leaned into that every chance they got.

Anne was called to give testimony in the first week, and she confessed under oath what she had found when she reached the catacombs, which was enough to shock the court. Sebastian’s friends took courage from the fact that she had not actually seen what killed Solomon, but it was only a matter of the judge drawing a line between a quick succession of events.

Ominis was called to the stand as well, but lied shamelessly. Even the threat of Veritaserum from the Prosecution didn’t sway him. He knew none of them would dare submit a Gaunt to that — a rare occasion of his family name amounting to something. However, him being Sebastian’s oldest friend cast doubt upon his entire deposition…

And then, she was called to give testimony as well. Unlike Ominis, she was not sure she could afford to lie, but nothing could get her to betray Sebastian.

All that she could remember was that Solomon attacked the both of them, and both she and Sebastian felt quite threatened by him, and then somehow, between the flying curses and roving Inferi, Uncle Solomon fell dead. But that happened, after all, more than two years ago, Your Honour, and it was in a dark and gloomy cave — and oh, what were they doing there? Objection. Relevance?

Ominis and the others congratulated her on well she held her own, but deep down, she felt like she had let her best friend down — her statement didn’t put the blame on Sebastian, but neither did it exonerate him.

By the time the trial was approaching the end, their former classmates had stopped coming, and only she and Ominis were left.

“He looks so —”

“I know,” said Ominis, not wanting to hear her describe him. This was on the last day, and the judge would give the verdict.

Guilty. Six months in Azkaban.

The courtroom reverberated with murmurs from the crowd — some in approval, others in outrage.

It was a horrible sentence to hear, but it was not as bad as their worst fears — people were often given life imprisonment for the Unforgivables. Fortunately, in Sebastian’s case, there was not enough conclusive evidence either way. Still, if they were to appeal, it would take longer than six months to even have a new judge assigned to the case, so they were left with no choice but to accept it.

As the Aurors led Sebastian away, she and Ominis stood together and called out useless encouragements to their friend, telling him to have courage, to be strong, have faith that he would soon be free, but he went with the guards without looking back at them…

Most of their former classmates were shocked but seemed to think the six-month sentence would pass quickly. They knew Azkaban was pretty horrible and could remember a few things from their DADA class, but none of them was truly educated on the nature of Dementors. Ominis was. He’d been in their presence when he and his father went to visit an uncle of his who’d been sentenced for murdering a muggle. He claimed it was the worst experience he’d ever had in his life — worse than Crucio, in its own way. He still remembered how the despair lingered inside him for days.

And as time passed, she became aware of something lingering within herself as well…

By the fourth month, she had to use concealment charms around her waist when she went out in public. Ominis figured it out on his own — it was probably that echolocation spell he used to get around. He’d merely been suspicious at first, but by the fifth month…

“Can anyone else see?!”

“No, and they won’t if you just stop —”

“But this could ruin your reputation!”

“Don’t you think I know that?!”

“I can’t believe you! How c—”

“Ominis, shut up,” she hissed.

“But you —”

“It’s Sebastian’s!”

“… Oh. I suppose that makes it better, then.”

From then on, Ominis supported her and helped her in any way he could — which admittedly wasn’t much, as he was still getting used to living on his own after being freed from his family’s clutches. And either way, the first few months were gentle enough on her that she could cope well enough on her own. The only help she needed was preparing her small flat to host two people — and eventually three — which meant some creative furniture transfiguration to fit everything in too small a space.

Christmas arrived in the meanwhile, then the New Year. They had tried writing to him every month by then, but the authorities kept sending their letters back — none were allowed for fear of concealed enchantments, they said, and no visitations were allowed either for lower-class prisoners. It broke her heart to know him all alone throughout those rotten months and all through the holidays. Neither she nor Ominis found it in them to celebrate anything that year…

Sebastian was released in February. They wouldn’t be allowed on the island of Azkaban, but they could see him at the Ministry, where he would be transported before he was officially freed.

She and Ominis got there at sunrise, and waited for hours.

Sebastian’s assigned solicitor couldn’t be there, as he had another case, but he sent a house elf to sign the release form in his name. Anne hadn’t come either, but that was hardly a surprise…

The two of them sat alone in a busy hallway, watching witches and wizards pass through — some going in, some going out — until finally, late in the afternoon, the Auror at the front desk told them that inmate Sallow would be arriving within minutes.

“Here, here, they said this will be the exit,” she said, pulling on Ominis’ sleeve.

Two large wooden doors lay open out of which a long dark hallway extended like a neck, and on either side were doors being shut and open of ministry workers travelling through. There was constantly a small crowd of people darkening that space even further.

“I think that’s him,” she said, standing on the tips of her toes when she spotted a dark ruffled head of hair.

“Alright, stay calm,” said Ominis, taking her hand to settle her. Since he’d realised that she was pregnant, he was instinctively more protective.

“Oh, it is! It is him!” she said with tears in her happy voice.

Sebastian was led out of one of those side doors — dressed in a grey and black prisoner’s uniform, his hands and feet chained, terribly thin and tired and bent at the back, and looking as if he hadn’t slept for days…

“Sebastian!” she called out, waving to him with the hand that wasn’t in Ominis’ grasp. “Over here!”

He looked up slowly, as if doubting that he’d heard his name called. His eyes searched blearily through the crowd ahead, not really focusing anywhere, but then they fell on her. She grinned brightly when she caught his gaze.

“Y-you came?” he said, looking at the two of them like they were a dream come true.

“Of course,” she said.

“Surely you didn’t expect anything else,” grinned Ominis.

“I… I need to go somewhere, they’re taking me to… to…” He didn’t have time to explain before Aurors led him around the corner and to another room, for processing.

“We’ll be here,” she called out after him, “we’ll wait for you!”

“How does he look?” whispered Ominis. “He sounded quite weak.”

“He looks… the way he sounded,” she said, “but he’ll be alright… He has to be. We’ll make sure of it.”

Less than thirty minutes later, Sebastian stepped back outside. He was now dressed the way he was when they arrested him: a faded green sweater and black trousers with worn old leather shoes. The clothes hung on his lanky frame, his face was all angles and shadows, and he looked as if he hadn’t had a wash in the whole six months. He was, of course, without his wand as well — they’d broken that after his sentencing.

But there was a still little light still left in his eyes, and it shone when he saw his friends again. He called out her name and Ominis’, and walked toward them with feeble brisk steps.

“I can’t believe it,” he grinned weakly, his steps growing bolder the closer he got to his friends. “I never thought —”

But then he noticed their joined hands, and her swollen stomach, and it nearly stopped him in his tracks. He only caught the sight for a second before she let go of Ominis and rushed to embrace him.

“Seb,” she cried out as she jumped into his arms. She clung to his neck like a lifeline. “I’ve missed you so much…”

“I’ve… missed you too,” he said, his voice low and uncertain.

She buried her face in his neck while Sebastian’s eyes fell to Ominis — who embraced him too from the other side in an uncharacteristic display of affection, before he stood back timidly.

“How… erm, how are you?” he asked with a nervous smile, feeling more happy than he cared to admit, and relieved to have his friend back in one piece.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” said Sebastian. Gently, he dropped the girl from his arms and slowly pulled away.

“Of course,” she said, wiping her tears and stepping back, but keeping his hand clasped in hers. “You don’t have to. You don’t have to say anything. We just came to take you home. It’s alright now… You’re free, you’re finally back. We’ve missed you so much…”

“Home?” said Sebastian, looking between her and Ominis coolly. “Whose home is that?”

“Well… whichever one you want,” she said. “Yours or mine or…”

“I don’t think I’m ready to see Feldcroft again,” said Sebastian. “But I wouldn’t want to… impose on either of you.”

“What?” frowned Ominis. “Don’t be stup— I mean, don’t worry about that, Sebastian.”

“Oh, is there something to worry about?” he asked.

“Well —”

“We don’t need to discuss that —”

“— here.”

“— now.”

“… I see.”

“Don’t concern yourself with anything,” she smiled, stepping up to him again and embracing him loosely. “Let’s leave this horrible place first…”

They made their way out of the ministry building and through the cold London streets toward Diagon Alley, and his friends talked to him excitedly about the things that had happened: what their former classmates were doing, what they knew about Anne, even the latest Quidditch matches.

They probably felt less cheerful than they seemed, but their enthusiasm was overflowing as they prattled on about all the normal things people their age should care about, almost as if nothing bad had happened at all. They laughed, and smiled, and rubbed his back, and all the while there was in Sebastian’s gait much of the same imprisoned and defeated look as there had been when he was led out of the courtroom at his sentencing.

“We wrote to you while you were there,” she said as they approached the Leaky Cauldron.

“But the damned guards never delivered them,” said Ominis.

Sebastian listened in silence, and they tacitly agreed it was because of what he had been through. He would open up to both of them in time, they were certain…

They decided to have lunch at the Cauldron since neither of them had eaten anything since morning — and they didn’t even wish to think of the food in Azkaban. They ordered sausages and eggs and mashed potatoes and a great big serving of pickled pumpkin.

Sebastian ate the least out of the three of them — and what he didn’t finish, she devoured. Ominis hid his chuckle behind a cough, while Sebastian could barely look at her. If she noticed it, she didn’t say. She just kept smiling and laughing along with Ominis…

More than ever in Azkaban, he wished he could dig a hole for himself through which to disappear. The Leaky Cauldron was noisy and crowded, the smell of food made his stomach turn, and every scrape of a chair was like a scratch across his brain. Even sitting down was uncomfortable, his muscles too thin and his back too weak to hold him. He moved uncomfortably from one position to another, and let his friends prattle on to fill the emptiness between them.

After almost an hour, they decided to leave, and Sebastian nodded in agreement.

“I’m seeing someone at the ministry next Wednesday about a position,” said Ominis as they walked toward the fireplace. “But I can stop by afterwards if that’s alright.”

“Of course,” she said. “You’re always welcome, you know that.”

“Do you have enough chocolate at home? I can bring some more.”

“Shelves full of it,” she laughed. “But more is always a good idea. I suspect we’ll need it.”

“Well, I’ll bid you two goodbye for now, then,” said Ominis as he waved them off, blissfully oblivious to what was going through Sebastian’s mind.

“Goodbye,” she said with a tearful smile, letting go of Sebastian for a brief while to hug their friend once more.

“I’ll let you know before I arrive on Wednesday.”

“Not to worry, Ominis. We’ll be alright… Everything will be alright now.”

“I hope so…”

“And good luck with your interview!”

“Thank you… Although I’m not sure I want it.”

“Thank you, Ominis,” said Sebastian tiredly. “For… everything.”

“Don’t be silly,” he smiled. “I’m glad to have you back. We both are. Just focus on getting well again…”

Sebastian nodded, not feeling that any of their kind words were true. He disappeared in the green flames with her, wishing for once to not appear on the other end.

[archduchessgortash]

Gale Dekarios, Act 1

Incorrect Quotes

They get progressively more incorrect as we go... and dirtier. Some are his thoughts. Most of the time, he's talking to Durge and reacting to everyone else's interruptions (usually Astarion).

When recruited:

Gale:

I am a powerful archmage! Or, I was before that unwelcome insertion in the ocular region. I'm brilliant and well-read. I even know the technical term for squidification.

Only a fool wouldn't like me.

No... it's not actually squidification, Astarion.

Also, Gale:

Please ignore the rock from which you pulled me. I am a very good wizard.

No, I am not telling you about my adventures as an archmage! We just met.

You may admire my Peter Pan pose instead. Just... don't get me killed.

But, if you do, resurrect me. Or the world will end.

What? I didn't say anything.

In the grove:

Gale:

Be nice to children, even the rascals. Especially the rascals.

Yes, I was a rascal, and people weren't always nice to me. You're very perceptive, Astarion. A bloody genius. Shall I pat you on the back? Oh, you've got that handled, have you? Splendid.

Also, Gale:

I, too, will ignore the very existence of those quite rascally, yet most certainly NOT children-shaped goblins that you, me, Astarion or Halsin may or may not have eviscerated.

Or incinerated.

Flirts and Weave scene:

Gale:

I'm a master of the weave, a wizard prodigy.

I was the Chosen of Mystra. And her lover.

Also, Gale:

But I'm really the villain. *Wink wink*

No, Astarion! I am not having 'dark urges' like our fearless leader.

No... I'm not actually the villain! I have to say that I am.

Because I'm the good pup and you're the bad cat, that's why.

What do you mean, Wyll is the good pup?!

Mizora does call him that...

Well, what am I then??

I have no idea what autistic nerd-bait is, Shadowheart. Is it new?

Ohhh...

I'm the brainy one that half of the fandom doesn't get because they're squirming illiterates. Right.

I said illiterates, not illithids!

Please put the greatsword down, Lae'zel.

Gale:

I might need to eat Shadowheart's spear very soon.

No, not that, Astarion! I have no idea whether or not she even has one. How would I? They took her underwear?? That's... an unbelievable invasion of privacy.

Wait! Where are mine???!

Also, Gale:

It's very nice that you still have your underwear, Astarion, in spite of your numerous attempts to fling them directly at our leader's face.

No, I still don't want to talk to you while we walk.

Unless... Do you think you could steal mine back? This robe is rather drafty.

Gale:

I trust you more than anyone other than my cat, and believe me, that is an achievement!

Also, Gale:

I am a ticking timebomb. I'm sorry for not telling you right away, even though you told me about your irrepressible need to murder. In my defense, I didn't take you seriously.

No one did.

Yes, I am ignoring you, Astarion.

Because I'm still freeballing!

Gale:

You know what? Keep the underwear.

Let me show you some beautiful magic...

Also, Gale:

They want to hold my hand now.

What do I DO???

Mid-Act 1:

Gale:

Your ass, uh, axe looks very delicious, uh, powerful. May I eat it? Not literally, of course. I'll be rearranging the matter into a form that the Orb can consume.

Yes, Karlach, consume does mean the same as eat. Good work paying attention when I was reading to you! They can take the tiefling out of the schoolhouse and throw her in the Hells, but they can't truly take the schoolhouse out of the tiefling.

No! I'm not calling you fat. I would never do such a thing! Even if you were.

Yes, I'll... make extra pudding with dinner.

Yes, you can have mine.

So, as I was saying... Can my Orb please eat your ass? Axe. AXE! The world might end if you don't let me eat your ass. AXE!!!

Gah! Mystra's eyelids!

Also, Gale:

Thank. You. For. Letting. Me. Eat. Your.... Axe. Yes! [Fist pump]

Tiefling party:

Gale:

I'll make them think I'm unavailable by talking about my Tressym like she's not a flying cat who treats me like her grandson.

Then, I'll surprise them by flirting.

Shit, they're onto me!

They flirted first. RUN!

Ow, my knees!

Also, Gale:

You smell. I'm into it.

Unfortunately, if I touch you, I will quite literally explode.

I love you, Gale Dekarios... 🤣🥰

[jellyfitzjelly]

That cloak drabble you wrote..... Incredible 🥺 but I can't stop thinking about Tav going back to camp the next morning, hair disheveled, strands of hay stuck to her, and she's carrying the cloak she strangely woke up with.

Her companions voice their concerns for her absence the previous night then upon closer inspection (and a quick whiff)... it all makes sense 😂

"Ah, did a bit of rolling in the hay I see. Don't know why you'd pick /him/ of all the grove inhabitants but, we all have a type, I suppose." (- cinnasalmon)

LMAOOOO ok i truly love this 😂 [READ ON AO3]

You wake up feeling groggy, with hay sticking in uncomfortable places. You realize there's a cloak wrapped around you. The scent is familiar, but you can't replace it. It is an expensive but worn cloak, heavy and comfortable. It was clearly made for a soldier or a paladin, judging by the Helm patterns at the hem. You like it, but you're confused as to how it got on you.

You rub your eyes and decide to go back to camp. Your companions flock you like a murder of crows on a mice the second you set foot in the camp.

"By Mynstra! Where were you?!" Gale exclaimed.

"And here we were ready to have a funeral for you," Astarion quips with amusement.

"I'm sorry to have worried you. I just wanted to take a nap and...uh, I think it ended up being a night of sleep."

Shadowheart snorts while Lae'zel disapproves, of course.

"Nice cloak, soldier!" Karlach tells you, clasping you on the shoulder...before she sniffs you.

"What are you–"

The tiefling burts out in laughter, to everyone's confusion.

"Guess you had a good night of sleep, uh?" she winks.

You frown, confused.

"What do you mean?"

"C'mon, Tav! The cloak smells right like him!"

"Who? You know whose cloak it is?"

Karlach sighs dramatically, but it's obvious she's enjoying herself.

"Who else but the hot Hellrider?"

"Zevlor?!" you exclaim, shocked.

Wait... This is Zevlor's cloak? Then, that means that he wrapped you in it... You redden as you imagine the scene, as your mind fixates on the touch of his hot hands on you.

"Didn't know you were into older guys!" Karlach teases you.

"I'm not!" you protest impulsively, but no one believes it.

"So, how was it?" Astarion asks. "I've never had a tiefling, you must tell me everything!"

"We didn't do anything, you perverts!"

You march off to your tent, embarrassed, as your companions laugh. It's only when you sit down that you realize that you'll have to give back the cloak. You flush again at the idea of facing Zevlor. He's kind and...well, handsome. There is no denying that. He's a good man, and you feel enraged at the injustice he and his people have faced because of the actions of a selfish man.

Truth be told, you admire him.

Your heart race as you remember his might when you helped him face the goblins at the gate. You bite your lip and shake your head. You need to get on with your day, the morning is becoming noon. You wash yourself and change clothes before you grab the cloak you left in your tent. You remember Karlach's words earlier and you get curious. You bring the cloak to your nose and breathe in. It smells of faint spices, musk, a hint of sweat and of warmth. You didn't know warmth had a smell, but apparently it does, because there is no other way to describe it.

Yeah, it does remind you of Zevlor.

You flush as you realize what you're doing. You go back to the grove with the cloak neatly folded in your arms, heart racing. You tell yourself you're just giving it back and thanking him, no need to be nervous. You enter the cave and find Zevlor poring over his map. You look around but Tilses is nowhere to be found. It might be for the best.

"Ah, Tav!" he smiles as he lifts his gaze from the map. "Hope you slept well."

You can't help but blush. You shift, nervous with bufferfly in your stomach.

"I did, thanks to you. Thank you for the cloak, I'm sorry I am only giving it back now."

The tiefling approaches you with a fond smile, taking the cloak from you with gentle hands.

"Thank you," he tells you warmly.

"Don't mention it," you stammers.

"You should keep it," Zevlor pensively. "It may be more useful to you than to me."

"Oh no!" you vehemently protest. "I won't accept it! You need it, sir!"

"Just Zevlor, Tav," he chides you with obvious fondness. "I am no Commander. Not anymore."

"I'm sorry," you whisper, your heart breaking at the hint of pain in Zevlor's voice.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he reassures you gently. "This isn't your fault."

You shiver as you catch a whiff of the spices of his cologne. Time seems to slow as you look at him. Your gaze drops to his lips and your breath catches in your throat...

"I'm sorry, I couldn't get any meat– Oh! Am I interrupting?" you hear Tilses behind you.

You step back, embrassed by your thoughts and flushing. Before Zevlor can say anything, you stammer:

"Ah, since it's lunch time I'll leave you to it then!"

You turn on your heels and all but run away. You catch Tilses' confused gaze as you speed. The spend the rest of the day cursing yourself. That night, you dream of spices and warmth wrapping around you.

[average-ravnican]

I know I have talked shit about the guilds, I should probably give some of my gripes, with them, huh?

Gruul: they just tear shit down, and cause chaos, which is fun for a few days, but they never stop. Also, if you’ve ever been in a mosh pit with one, they will intentionally throw elbows and hands trying to start a brawl.

Golgari: I don’t like bugs. I have a phobia, and unfortunately it makes the entire guild suck. Also, if you buy anything off them, it’s definitely laced with something. 100% of the time.

Boros: part of the issue is the whole persecution of the Guildless, part of it is the fact they’re a guild full of cops, and part of it is the fact they have literal angels in the guild so they feel justified in their shitty takes.

Azorius: what I said about Boros being cops? Yeah, that except the cops are also legislators, actively voting for the police to be more powerful. Also, they FINED ME FOR EATING

Orhzov: Ghost capitalists. I don’t think I need to say much more, other than that for some reason we literally allow them to enslave ghosts and we’re cool with that??? If anyone enslaved a living person, we’d be pissed, but if they’re dead it’s cool?

Rakdos: other than the murder, I guess they’re fine. But it’s like hanging out with your friends from school who got really into music and drugs and never got a personality.

Izzet: other than being a dragon’s cult of personality, and having a literal murderer as their current leader (am I the only one who remembers when Ral killed the Izzet champion of the maze? So he could go instead? He did that in front of a crowd.) and the fact that a disproportionate amount of goblins have “research” accidents on their watch, its being surrounded by gifted kids who need to be the smartest in the room.

Dimir: for self preservation reasons I will not say anything about house dimir.

Simic: similar problem to Izzet, but they also just want to stick tentacles or crab claws on everything. I had a friend who transitioned with the combine, and she’s happy, but she also does glow in the dark.

Selesnya: I won’t get into the personal reason I dislike them, y’all aren’t ready for that story, but it’s almost a joke. “We prefer unity and harmony and peace and will FUCKING MURDER ANYONE WHO GETS IN THE WAY OF IT” (looking at you Trostani)

Not all of these organizations are bad, I just don’t understand why our government is run by all of them.

[4dznsalamanders]

So I, like everyone else, am shaking the bars of my cage trying to understand what the hell 4Dawgz is DOING We've gotten a couple of wild facts for her character this episode and last weeks: 1) absolutely hates Riz SPECIFICALLY for some reason, despite him consistently being the most respectful towards her (he actually tries to say her name proper) 2) she has a lot of anger towards the Bad Kids (and Riz), and 3) she was very casual killing Buddy Dawn, even though that doesn't immediately help her... admittedly, it does threaten the Bad Kids by removing revivify, but homegirl saw Gorgug soloing a purple worm, Adaine being untouchable, Fig smiting as if she's been a paladin for years, and The Ball absolutely rocking this fight, Fabian was there, all while Kristin was being pretty conservative and prioritizing heal spells, so KipKettle has no reason to believe the Bad Kids are in true mortal peril. What does this all mean? Well, idk about you, but Kipper's absolute inexplicable rage, combined with a bunch of other weird minutia, has me pondering the Time Quangle again, and the fact the Bad Kids DID do some minor chronomancy pre-shrimp jump, I think we have more time shenanigans to go... ESPECIALLY since that girlfailure found the rogue teacher at 8:01 am, I agree with some of the theories I've seen suggesting she's stuck in a time loop. I think she hates Riz because he is consistently the one realizing, connecting the dots, and ultimately the driving force that thwarts her in her scheme, forcing her to do another loop. Her complete contempt might look unreasonable, but maybe she's been trying to complete her task for YEARS, stuck in highschool because some random hot goblin kid can't ever mind his own business. I've been sympathetic to the "BLeeM would never have such a blatant BBEG like this, there has to be a twist" crowd, and I think FishFlower RedPan callously murdering her party cleric DOES NOT negate this - as far as she's concerned, he might be the 57th Buddy Dawn she's met, so why would she care when this loop will probably fail again? If this theory is anything substantial, she literally has nothing to lose, because she can just start over again? Anyone would appear irrational and be incapable of seeing an unbiased perspective, so of course she would claim things aren't fair: she's witnessed the same group of clowns dunk on her repeatedly in every iteration. Why bother doing unique adventures that are unpredictable when you can be the RatGrinders and have the same base slate with less chaos to try and enact your grand plan?