#for as kind as the wizard is i think it is very easy for those around them to forget that they committed murder at age 14?

[icewindandboringhorror]

Apparently I can meet my goal of roughly 400,000 words in 6 months if I just somehow write at least 2,200 words a day ghbjh... Almost 2,500 today... huzzah...

[oldestenemy]

Thinking about Duncan Grimwater again.

Thinking about the wizard letting that fight play out.

About letting him win, landing in the commons, and using dungeon recall to go back, showing up behind him.

Thinking about "Did you really think with everything I've been through, that I would go down that easily?"

[dduane]

I had a note from a librarian...

Along these lines:

I am a public school librarian and would like to put your young wizard series in the library this year as I have no joy in promoting HP anymore. What's the best method of getting the whole set hardback where the $ goes back to you the author?

So first of all, to the OP: thanks for being in touch. I'll drop you a note shortly.

That said, the question you raise might be one that's occurred to other people: so I thought I'd handle this part of it in public.

About Young Wizards hardcovers: (rueful look) This is kind of a challenge, as—due to changes of publishers and other weirdness—there has never been a whole-series, unified-format hardcover set of the Young Wizards books in the series's 40-year history.

...Let's take it from the top, and you'll see the problem.

The books' first home was at Delacorte Press, an imprint of Dell Publishing. So You Want To Be A Wizard was published in hardcover in 1983, the Deep Wizardry hc in 1985, and the High Wizardry hc in 1990, with these covers. (The art, respectively, by David Wiesner, Darrell Sweet, and Neal McPheeters.)

All of these editions are now difficult to find in good condition, especially SYWTBAW, which as a first book in a series by a new/untried author, perhaps understandably had a very small print run, and was mostly sold to libraries. (The run might have been as small as 1500 copies. It's hard to tell now, as this wasn't data that was shared with authors in those days.) As a result, most copies of this edition are either very beat up, or (if in good condition) pretty expensive. The Delacorte DW and HW hardcovers are a little easier to find, but not that much.

In the early 1990s there was a change in publishing direction at Dell shortly after HW came out. The publisher's interest had pivoted toward wanting more bestselling authors; so they jettisoned many then-new or midlist authors so as to be able to pay the best-selling authors more. (In this particular micro-bonfire of the vanities, Dell's stupidity in throwing Jane Yolen overboard, FFS, astounds me to this day.) So though the books continued to be published at other Dell imprints (Laurel-Leaf, Yearling) as paperbacks through the mud-1990s, that was the end of the Dell hardcovers.

The next hardcover publication was therefore in 1990, from GuildAmerica / SF Book Club. Support Your Local Wizard contains SYWTBAW, DW and HW, and was a Book Club bestseller: it sold a quarter million copies and set a record as their most popular new-member-requested book that lasted until they went out of business. As a result, there are a lot of these books around.

Also in plentiful supply is The Young Wizards, which SFBC Fantasy published in 2001. (NB that a lot of sources list this as being a 1984 book, which is incorrect: as it also contains, besides the first three, A Wizard Abroad and The Wizard's Dilemma, this makes it impossible to have been published any sooner than 2001.)

Anyway, after that, things get a bit simpler. In the mid 1990s the series was picked up by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt / Harcourt Trade Publishers' new YA imprint Magic Carpet Books, which began republishing earlier works. A Wizard Abroad had until then been published only in the UK (in a mass-marker mmpb from Transworld/Corgi); its first hardcover came out from the SF Book Club/GuildAmerica in 1993, Dell having passed on acquiring it. (The cover on this one was done by the fabulous David Cherry, artist and brother of my old colleague C. J. Cherryh.) Harcourt did an unusual small-format hardcover of AWAb in 1997—testing the waters, I think—and then, when that sold strongly, went straight to full-size hardcovers with The Wizard's Dilemma (with art from then until now by Cliff Nielsen) and have stayed with that format since.

Harcourt also did a lovely 25th anniversary hardcover edition of So You Want To Be A Wizard in 2003, which is easy to find inexpensively. I strongly suspect this republication trend would have continued with Deep Wizardry and High Wizardry when their respective anniversaries came around. But unfortunately the Magic Carpet program wound down soon afterwards, and the most recent volumes have been published simply as HMH.

...So you can see, you've got kind of a mixed bag to deal with. Availability has also been something of an issue, as the books are considered backlist by Harcourt's current owner (HarperCollins), and warehouse supplies of some books in the series have been iffy.

So if I was a librarian in this situation, I'd be tempted to do this: (a) Grab a few used copies of the 25th-anniversary edition of SYW, and a few copies of the The Young Wizards omnibus, to take care of books 1-5. Then (b) see about acquiring all the rest in the Harcourt hardcover editions of volumes 6-10, new or used, as opportunity allows. Royalties come to me off all the Harcourt books, so I'm okay on that count. (And thanks for being concerned about it!)

For all who might be interested: hope this helps!

[cowboygenesis]

1/2 fatum invenit | gale x reader

part 1 of the "fatum" mini-series.

summary: you've loathed each other since the dawn of his first arrival. it never should've worked, but somehow, as you find yourself chest-to-chest within a sunken crypt with no way out, your feelings finally surface— and Gods, do they cut deep.

pairing: gale dekarios x sorceress!durge!reader tags: fluff, angst, tons of cursing, mutual pining, forced proximity, enemies/rivals to lovers. word count: 5.3k notes: whew, here we are at last. if you've read "knuckle up" you might find the ending a little similar but... what can i say, im a softie. also, the durge aspect of the reader is truly very minimal, i just added it for the sake of flavor, whatevah... oh, and reader is super cheeky and generally curses a lot, im case that's something that bothers you. i want this to be a two-parter eventually, so expect some smut in the future chapter. as always, let me know what you think! enjoy! masterlist.

You… you fucking knew it. The one time in your life you decide to give a wizard the benefit of the doubt he… he screws you the fuck over.

It was supposed to be an easy job: infiltrate Kereska’s chapel, retrieve the relic Raphael demanded, and slip away unnoticed. Hey, no big deal— you’ve handled worse without breaking a sweat.

Most of your companions weren’t so eager to take on the devil’s dirty work after a night of drinking, so, you figured you’d tackle it solo. No problem. After all, you’d just returned home to Baldur’s Gate. The evening was warm, the streets thrummed with energy, and after a night of revelry, you were in a damn good mood.

So when Gale, with his calm, holier-than-thou attitude, offered to “assist,” you’d thought sure, why the Hells not?

And what a mistake that would turn out to be for you. Just as your gut had warned you, things ended up going sideways. All because of him.

You both had made it past the wards, the traps, and even those fucked up, undead necromancers that you hated dealing with—no thanks to Gale’s constant commentary on your spellcasting techniques. It was always some remark about how your magic was “undisciplined,” how you were “too reckless to be at your best.” Fuck, like you hadn’t been doing this shit for years, now.

Warranted, you weren’t exactly the nicest person, either. Meals at your camp were a battlefield of their own, filled with biting comments and passive-aggressive stares, often over trivial matters that had nothing to do with magic.

Plus, combat was no different. It rarely took more than a few minutes before you and Gale were mired in a heated debate over the “best course of action for the situation”. Naturally, these debates only added to the tension, making every encounter feel like a personal clash as opposed to a friendly discussion over technique.

You two were polar opposites, discordant, incompatible.

But you were an idiot, then. A dumb, tender-hearted idiot in a great mood who had hoped you two could eventually get along if the stars aligned just right. But that’s all hindsight.

After all the hard work, you had almost had it— your hand was just within reach of that damned necklace, caution thrown to the wind, when Gale decided to get fancy. A small “adjustment” to the magical aura surrounding the relic, he’d explained— something about minimizing risk and stabilizing the flow of the Weave so you could extract it safely.

You discarded the idea, of course; “fuck your tricks,” you had said (your actual words), rolled your eyes at him, and said goodbye to the remnants of your good mood as he reprimanded you like a teacher would a novice— and that, naturally, you weren’t.

Unlike him, you didn’t need a stack of tomes to inspectthis kind of arcane energy. It felt powerful and intricate, yes— but beneath it all, it was just a trick of the eye. The glowing, golden-tinged sphere wasn’t malevolent whatsoever, and instead served as a cheap ploy to repel those tempted by the artifact.

So, knowing what you knew, you reached for the relic despite his suggestion.

But, just as you were to lay a finger on it, he… he cast his fucking “safety” spell. And everything went to hell.

The forcefield around the necklace reacted— wildly. The air rippled in waves, the ground shifting beneath you, and suddenly, you were trapped in some kind of collapsed chamber beneath the chapel— cut off from the rest of the world, with no way out.

Worst of all, you were in heartbreaking proximity. The dugout was deep, but narrow, allowing you maybe a centimeter of privacy before your chest collided with his. And Gods, did that happen often. Any movement you made, your bodies would collide in one way or another, be it feeling his thigh rub against yours, grazing fingers, or smacking his chin— the last one being a complete accident on your part, of course.

And yes, as two magic-wielders would, you tried your luck. As it turned out, the stone binding your bodies together seemed to have a sort of Weave-repellent property that rendered your only functional skills worthless.

So, here you were, stuck with your arch-rival, and with every passing second, your frustration grew. It must have been half an hour since the disaster struck when you finally felt your head pound with frustration.

“Gale,” you sigh for the millionth time, “Are you even listening?”

He’s been doing a great job ignoring your commentary by seemingly occupying himself with analyzing your surroundings. Smart, sure, if it wasn’t for the simple fact he refused to collaborate with you whatsoever. After your initial scream-off, he seemed reluctant to give you the time of day again.

He finally clears his throat to speak, and you shoot him a glare in the dim light.

"You just had to do your thing, didn’t you?" he sighs.

“And you just had to show off,” you retort through a bitter snark.

Gale glances at you with narrowed eyes, yet his expression remains infuriatingly contained. “I was trying to prevent a catastrophe. If I hadn’t intervened, the entire chapel may have collapsed.”

“Well, congratulations,” you snap, “It collapsed on us instead. I’m so glad we avoided a disaster, Gale.”

He exhales slowly, then gives you a haphazard eye-roll. “Perhaps if you hadn’t rushed things—”

“Rushed things?” Your chest flares, making it collide with his. “I didn’t touch a damned thing. You’re the one who decided the Weave needed tuning or whatever other bullshit.”

Gale’s eyes narrow, a flash of frustration crossing his face. “You think I did this on purpose? I made the right choice. But you—”

“Oh, so it’s my fault now?” You cut him off, “Honestly, fuck you, man. If you were half as concerned with doing a good job as you are with peacocking we wouldn’t even be here in the first place.”

He looks away, his jaw tightening. “Peacocking?”

“Yeah. Peacocking, showing off—Are you okay? I thought you were supposed to be the clever one.” You shrug in mock nonchalance, rolling your eyes as if the circumstances weren’t already driving you up the wall.

You feel Gale’s chest rise and fall with a steadying breath, the sort one might take when trying to stop themselves from saying something they’ll inevitably regret. When it came to containing his bubbling rage, he beat you to it every time.

His casual lilt, when it comes, makes your teeth grit. “Obviously.”

You groan loudly, letting the back of your head thud against the stone wall behind you. A tense silence falls between you, broken only by the steady rhythm of his breathing, a sound that seems to grow louder in the small space whenever conversation dies down.

“You would’ve been buried stone-cold dead under the rubble if I hadn’t cast that spell,” he mutters, and just like that, your patience snaps.

“I— I can’t believe you’re saying this to me,” Your words are sharp as daggers, eyes burning into his as you twist your body just enough to face him head-on. “The barrier was a ruse, Gale. A fake. I told you not to cast that damn spell—”

“And I suppose explanations are beneath someone of your obvious talents,” he snaps back, his words dripping with venom.

You glare at him, feeling your pulse quicken. “You’re a scholar— Gods, don’t you know this kind of illusory magic is Kereska’s whole thing?” you spit, watching his face aptly in hopes of catching a glimpse of something; remorse, sympathy, fuck, even just a bit of pity would satiate you.

But it never comes. His eyes bore into you with practiced reprimanding, and because he must see you on the precipice of breaking down, he continues to poke the metaphorical bear. “You should’ve waited.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must’ve missed the part where you became the authority on everything. In case you somehow overlooked it, I’ve been doing this for years without your lectures.”

“And look how well that’s worked out for you,” he retorts, his voice low, treacherous. There’s a mocking smile imbued on his face, and you quickly realize it makes you want to tackle him to the ground and claw it out yourself. If it wasn’t for the minimal space, you probably would’ve even attempted it. “This wasn’t some petty street magic. That relic was infused with layers of defense—complex protections you clearly didn’t even account for—”

“I knew what I was dealing with!” you hiss, pushing against the wall for leverage. You brush against his chest again, sending an electric jolt of tension through the confined space. “I didn’t need your over-calculated, pompous meddling. I had it under control until you—”

“Under control?” Gale’s voice rises, his frustration finally splintering through his quiet facade as he emits a burst of scornful laughter. “Do you even hear yourself? Your recklessness nearly got us killed!”

You scoff, pushing back even harder. “You’re so damn smug— acting like the world will end if you don’t micromanage every little detail, but guess what? You don’t always have the answer. And right now, we’re stuck— all because of your fucking arrogance.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but then closes it, jaw tight, eyes blazing as he holds your gaze. For a second, you think he’s about to let loose another lecture, but instead, there’s silence—a strange, electricity-charged stillness that envelops you like a cold breeze.

You can’t speak. It crackles between you with a strain, thick enough to feel suffocating. Every breath you take only draws you closer to him, and somehow, it almost feels like the walls enveloping you have only grown thicker throughout your argument.

The closeness, the heat, the sheer intensity of the argument—it’s all too much, and yet, neither of you looks away once your gazes inevitably connect.

The wizard licks his bottom lip languidly, lips smacking as he seems to be taking you all in. His eyes scan over you, and somehow the fact makes you feel vulnerable.

Finally, he breaks the peace.

“If I’m so arrogant, why did you let me join you?”

His eyes are dark, but not just with frustration; they’re searching, questioning, as though he’s daring you to give an honest answer, knowing it’s something you can’t afford yourself right now.

“You asked me to let you come,” you bark out, pushing his chest with the heel of your hand, the contact sending a spark of heat through your outstretched arm. “I didn’t want you here. I figured we’d get through this, grab the necklace, and go our separate ways again. But no—you wanted to come. Play the hero, do all the dirty work, whatever your reasoning was.”

Gale doesn’t flinch at your words, but his eyes narrow slightly— they flicker to the space your bodies connect at, then back to your tautened face.

His gaze lingers on where your hand presses against his chest, and for a fleeting moment, you think he might back down. But instead, his jaw clenches, and when his eyes snap back to yours, there’s a fire behind them that ignites something deep in your gut.

“And you agreed,” he counters mockingly, the smile adorning his face making your head spin. “Why?”

The question hangs between you for a beat. You falter, mouth opening and closing without a reply.

He’s right. He’s fucking correct, and you hate it.

Why did you agree? You could’ve said no, barked back at him, insulted his stupid wizard frock— pushed him away with one of the countless options you had at your disposal.

But you didn’t. You let him come with you, willingly.

You clench your fists, pushing against the surge of discomfort bubbling in your belly. “Well, forgive me for being an optimist,” you mutter, voice tight. “I thought, for once, that maybe— Fuck. Maybe we could get through one fucking mission without trying to jump at each others’ throats.”

He exhales at your explanation, tilting his head to glance through the top of the crevasse and toward the chapel ceiling. You follow suit, albeit subtly, noticing the intricate engravings lining the skylight; in the dim light of the afternoon sun, they look elegant, beautiful, even. How didn’t you notice that when you first walked in?

“And how’s that going for us?” he asks suddenly, the smile curling at the edges of his mouth turning bitter.

You huff, running a hand through your hair. The condensation sticks to your fingers, and you can’t help the joyless chuckle that escapes your lips when you look at him again.

“Well, I don’t know,” you sigh, shrugging your shoulders lazily. Your cynical laughter shifts into the shadow of a smile. Somehow, as he glances down at you, you find yourself with a pang in your chest that overshadows the frustration you’ve been drowning in— it’s deep, and resonant, and feels like it’s swallowing your heart whole when his dark eyes meet yours. “We still hate each other.”

The wizard exhales sharply through his nose, and strangely, you can’t seem to read his expression even as your eyes squint.

His gaze is fixed on yours with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken; you feel it best when his hot breath hits the sweat-slicked skin of your face as he leans in. It’s a slight, almost imperceptible gesture, yet just enough to make your breath hitch with… rage, aversion— or perhaps, most frighteningly, something else you’ve been pushing down for months since your first quarrel.

You’re forcefully dragged out of your stupor when the pad of his thumb grazes your palm— the touch sends a sharp, almost uncomfortable jolt of electricity down your spine, leaving you speechless as you chalk it up to an unfortunate accident. Nothing more, it couldn’t be.

“I don’t hate you,” he says, and though his tone is stiff, the words cut through your pause like a skilled blade.

It couldn’t be.

Your breath catches in your parched throat, heart pounding with a force that would surely reverberate through his body hadn’t his robe been so thick.

You can feel the heat radiating off him, each shallow breath you take only drawing you closer— or, at least, that’s exactly how it feels in the tiny space you’re being forced to share.

His thumb is still brushing your palm, slowly, gently, and deliberately enough that you cannot ascribe it to a simple accident anymore. For a second, your eyebrows arch and there’s this urge to pull away, something thrumming in your head and telling you to hold to principle.

But you don’t… you— you physically can’t. Not when he’s gazing down at you with… with patience. Understanding, maybe. But why?

A beat passes, then another. The tension coils so tight you almost want to scream to break it, and his gaze remains locked on yours, his palm grazing yours.

You swallow hard, trying to gather your scattered thoughts, but your voice betrays you when you finally manage to speak, trembling, barely above a whisper.

“You—” Your throat feels tight, words failing you as his face remains inches from yours. "You’re fucking with me. I… you hate me, Gale, I can’t—"

He glances down at you with a strange glint in his eyes, then exhales loudly again. Did you strike a nerve?

“Why do you always do this?” he questions with exasperation tugging at his tone. You feel his touch momentarily drop from yours, and in the heat of the moment, you find yourself missing it.

“What?” you blink, eyebrows furrowed.

“This,” He gestures between the two of you with a frustrated sigh. “You’re— you’re always picking fights with me. Always pushing, always assuming the worst—”

“I’m picking fights?” Your eyes narrow, the sneer coming back to your lips like armor. “You’ve been criticizing every godsdamn thing I’ve done since day one, making me feel inferior, questioning my skill— and now I’m the one picking fights?”

He shakes his head sharply, then sighs in frustration. When you look up, his eyes are locked on yours—deep brown with flecks of gold, catching the fractured sunlight streaming through the cracked skylight. You could drown in them, given the chance.

“No, that’s not— That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” He stops himself, closing his eyes briefly before opening them again. “You don’t— you just refuse to listen to me. When we fight, in camp— even now. The relic, that barrier, you— Gods, you always act instead of—”

“Don’t you dare paint me as the villain now,” you snap, bumping his chest with the pad of your palm again.

“You almost got us killed!” he bites back, “I don’t care for your talents if it means you don’t utilize them properly. Have you ever stopped to think that maybe, just maybe, raw talent doesn’t equal capability?”

Right.

Your lips purse, the pit in your stomach suddenly overpowering your ability to retort. It was a mistake— you should have known the niceties were a convenient gimmick to ascertain his position over you, and not an actual instance of humanity, for once.

But somehow, your false hopes only drive the wrath within you. You let the nausea overcome you and have it fuel your bitter tone as you finally find the power to speak up again.

“All you care about is being right— about having the last word against anyone who dares question your abilities,” you mutter, challenging his stern gaze with your own, “And the rest of us? We’re just supposed to sit by and watch, grateful to be in the presence of Gale Dekarios, the great, tragic wizard who thought his tricks could satiate a fucking Goddess!”

You’re fuming. The words that come out of your throat are only half-baked as you shrill at him, but… but at the moment, it feels right— warranted, somehow.

So when you catch him give you the space to continue, you take it.

“…But the truth is, you need to feel superior. You need everyone to see you as the sleekest in the room because deep down, you’re still clinging to the ghost of a woman who abandoned you. And that’s why you’ve been picking me apart since day one—because I’m not afraid to tell you how full of shit you are.”

Suddenly, you feel his hand catch your wrist, his grip firm as he holds you still. His thumb presses lightly against your pulse, sending a sharp, unwanted jolt of awareness through your body as your arm tries to jerk away.

“You don’t know the first godsdamn thing about me,” Gale growls, his breath fanning your face as the words spill out, thick with venom. “You’re so wrapped up in your own insolence, so blinded by your stubborn pride, that all you can see in others is a reflection of yourself. And trust me when I say that it’s an ugly one.”

You laugh, a bitter, angry sound, but your heart is hammering now. “Oh, so you think you’ve got me all figured out?”

His jaw clenches, but his grip doesn’t waver. “I know enough. I know that your actions speak louder than words. I know that you’re reckless, impulsive, and too damned proud to admit when you need help—”

Your heart pounds in your chest, the heat between you scorching as your breaths mingle. “You’re such a fucking hypocrite. You’re the one who’s blinded by your own self-importance— always thinking you’re the wisest, savviest person in the room, like the rest of us are just pawns in your little fucking game.”

Gale’s eyes flash with something wild and uninhibited, and you watch his sneer shift into a bitter smile again.

“You— You really think that?” he questions through a chuckle, voice gravelly and low. “Do you really think I’m just using you for some game?”

For a heartbeat, neither of you moves. You sneer at him, and the outrage bubbles out again.

“Oh, don’t make me laugh. You’ve only ever looked out for yourself. This was never about helping me—it was… it was about proving something. To me, to yourself, to fucking Mystra,” you trail.

The moment the words leave your lips, the air shifts between you like a storm about to unravel. His grip on your wrist tightens, not painfully, but with a deliberate firmness that forces you to stop and feel the tension between you. His face is suddenly too close, and for the most succinct moment, you catch something flickering in his eyes—something dim, and dark—but not the rage you were expecting.

He should be angry with you— Hells, he should be furious. You just tore into every insecurity you knew he had, ripped open wounds that never quite healed, and worst of all, dragged his old lover into it all.

And yet… his gaze isn’t burning with the fever you’ve grown used to seeing from him in every argument, every fight.

Why the fuck isn’t he furious?

“Gods, I actually— I used to admire you. You know that? Before all this, I thought you were someone I could… I don’t know, respect. You were this brilliant, woeful man who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and I thought, ‘Maybe there’s something more underneath all that.’ I thought we could, I don’t know, actually be something—friends, allies, whatever the fuck. I wanted us to trust each other. But… but you…" your voice lowers to a near whisper, and somehow, unbeknownst to you, your eyes go glassy with hot tears.

You’re left reeling, heart hammering in your chest as your mind races along with your bitter confession. The air around you feels viscous, mucous-like, but when your throat goes dry with impending tears you look up to see something that makes your breath hitch.

He’s listening.

Not just waiting for his turn to speak as he usually does around you, not calculating his next clever retort, but listening— really, truly listening.

His gaze, once so sharp with ire, has softened. His dark eyes are fixed on yours with a vigor that nearly undoes you, and there’s no anger in them now, no resentment.

Your breath catches.

“You never gave me a chance, Gale. Not once. It was always about you, your guilt, your past, your Mystra— Fuck!” you cough out and rub your eyes with the pads of your palms, massaging your vulnerability away. “I tried. I really, really tried. But none of this seemed to reach you, not through that… that mental barrier you’ve created around yourself. I think that since the very beginning, everything else was just noise to you. I was just noise to you,” your voice dies down to a mutter, and you inhale sharply to fight the sorrow back into your grieving heart.

You withdraw your hands and finally feel brazen enough to face him.

You can feel the heat in your cheeks, aware that your nose is red from the tears you tried so hard to hold back, that your eyelids are probably puffy and swollen, and you’re a fucking mess.

But it doesn’t matter now. You’ve come undone, and now, nothing mattered to you anymore; not the anger, not the sorrow, and especially not the way his kind, gentle touch seemed to soothe your aching heart when his palm met yours.

You scan his face, but there’s nothing— or at least, you can���t seem to read it through the coating of tears obscuring your eyes. The light above has shifted to cast his face in a warm, velvety light. You catch the subtle lines etched into his forehead, the faint silver threads streaking through his hair, and his lips curling into… a smile.

Despite your desperation, despite your pain, he was smiling.

Your chest tightens, fists clenching at your sides, and before you can stop them, a stream of hot tears finally spills down your cheeks.

This was it. You braced for impact.

“…So do whatever the fuck you need to fill that void in your heart, but don’t involve me in any of it. And— for fuck’s sake, Gale, don’t act like you give a shit about me because you—”

But you never get to finish.

Before you can witness the gentle glint in his eyes as he leans into you, before you can even register it, his lips crash onto yours.

Your gasp is muted against the softness of his mouth. When he moves, it’s not gentle, not soft, but raw in its intensity and so, so desperate.

His grip on your wrist tightens briefly before finally releasing, his free hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck. The warmth of his hand is a pleasant change to the cold, hard stone you’ve been leaning against, and suddenly, just as your mind threatens to flood you with dopamine, it all dawns on you.

You’ve been here before—no, not here, but in moments that feel eerily alike.

You recall the edge in his voice during arguments, the way he’d insist on ‘rectifying’ you at every turn, the blunt critiques you assumed were borne from pure vanity. But now… now there’s a clarity to it all. Worry. Fear. A softness, a hesitation. Like when he would offer his hand to you after a fight, his fingers lingering just a moment too long as they brushed over yours.

You loathed him… Hells, you detested him.

But how deep were you willing to draw the line between hate and devotion?

Against all your instincts, against the sharp, burning ache in your chest—you drink him in. His warmth, his touch, the power behind it all.

You know you should push him away, shove him off, scream, but instead, you find yourself frozen— trapped in the certainty of this moment. And despite every ounce of fury burning inside you, you can’t deny the spark it ignites in your indigent heart as he caresses you so tenderly.

And with that, you seal your fate with his.

Your lips press against his, head tilting until you feel you’re melting into him. He groans softly against your mouth, and the sound makes your chest thrum with a melody you’re afraid to place.

Your hands, trembling, inch towards his chest, but this time they aren’t formed into spiteful fists or an accusatory point— your palms lay lax against him, resting at the junction of his ribs and pushing, pushing… just in hopes of catching the steady thrum of his heart against your fingertips. The anger, the pain, the confusion—it’s all still there, but in this moment, none of it matters.

Just him. Just this.

For all the times you’ve misread him, all the moments you thought his criticisms were barbs, meant to wound—now you wonder. You had mistaken his care for contempt, his frustration for hatred. But now, as his lips part slightly against yours, the world narrows down to just the two of you. No damned relic, no mission, no war; only the benign sensation of his hand cradling the back of your neck, the warmth of his mouth on yours, and the undeniable truth of it all:

You’ve never hated him. Not once in your rotten life.

And when his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, you want to come undone. You’re tired, hot, melting into this fiery, passionate kiss that has slowly turned languid and gentle.

So despite the zeal enveloping your body, you’re finally forced to part.

When your eyes open, you find him already watching you. A shiver runs down your spine as you drink him in; tousled hair, half-lidded eyes, and the ghost of a smile on his plush lips as the both of you pant in tandem with each other.

He looks wrecked. But then again, you’re certain you do too.

Your face feels flushed, still burning with aftershock and when you bite your bottom lip, you find it swollen. Raw. The taste of him lingers there too, sweet like bourbon and sharp like anise.

You stare at each other. It’s like you’re seeing him for the first time again, really seeing him, and it softens your heart as much as it terrifies your lust-addled mind.

The silence stretches between you, so thick you can feel it pressing against your skin. It pulls taut with every second, coiling tighter, and you can’t stand how fragile it makes your heart feel.

You swallow hard, trying to gather your scattered thoughts, but your voice betrays you when you finally manage to speak, trembling, barely above a whisper. “You—” Your throat feels tight, words failing you as his face remains inches from yours.

"Yeah?" His voice is husky— you’ve never found that aspect of it attractive until now.

You open your mouth, but the words—whatever they are—die in your throat. Instead, all you can do is look at him and fall deeper into his embrace.

There are questions that swirl in the back of your mind, ones you know you should ask, but they slip away the moment his thumb brushes your cheek again. Why did he kiss you? Why did you let him? And why, despite the chaos and pain that’s passed through your mind, did this—he—feel like the only thing that has made sense since you forgot all else?

“I never hated you,” he murmurs and shifts slightly, lifting his hand to cup your cheek. You nuzzle into his touch.

“I didn’t want to hate you,” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I thought it’s what we were meant to be. Enemies.”

“We aren’t,” The corner of his mouth twitches. “We never were.”

His thumb brushes your cheek, and just like that, the fragile walls around your heart crumble. Gale Dekarios, the man you had sworn to hate, has somehow intertwined himself into your very existence in a way you suddenly think might last centuries.

—

As it turns out, the solution to your predicament was surprisingly, nearly embarrassingly straightforward. The anti-magic barrier encircling the sunken crypt could be dispelled by reciting the incantation inscribed on the rock walls— and with Gale’s surprising proficiency in Draconic, it proved quite an easy feat.

After that, it was just a matter of a few rudimentary spells. Naturally, the task took longer than anticipated, thanks to the lingering, newfound tension between you and the wizard— fleeting glances, soft touches, and even an occasional, stolen kiss as you recited your magic; things you surprisingly found yourself quite fond of.

As you step out into the cool evening air, you inhale deeply, savoring the crisp, refreshing breeze. The sunset paints the world in a warm, golden hue, casting long, soft shadows across the cobbled streets as you pass by groups of chattering townsfolk.

“I’ve been thinking,” you hear your companion muse through a playful smile. “After all of this, do you think we could avoid arguments for a little while?”

You meet his gaze with a puckish eye roll, a smile tugging at your still-swollen lips. The warm glow of the streetlights casts his face in a soft, intimate glow, and your smile widens into a grin when you catch his lips bearing that same sign of your carnal affection.

“It depends,” you reply with a nonchalant shrug, pushing against him playfully.

“Mhm, and on what exactly?” he hums, his hand squeezing tighter around yours. When his thumb caresses your palm, you feel your heart thrum with something you can’t quite describe.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you reply, glancing up at him with a grin. He returns it within a beat, and now it’s your turn to knit your fingers tighter. “How much longer are you planning on nagging me?”

He chuckles from the belly, and the coil in your chest that you’ve long expected to be spite emerges as something much larger, softer, and most unexpected. You fear to name it out loud.

You smile when your gaze meets his, the warmth in his eyes mirrored by the softness of your own. He leans in, and the world narrows to the touch of his lips against yours—a brief, gentle kiss that seems to linger in the evening light. In that fleeting moment, all the doubts and anxieties are swept away with his voice calling your name.

“For as long as I live,” he retorts softly, his voice laced with tenderness as the air between you, once again, fills with his laughter.

[thecutepoison]

This is very speculative, but I'm suspecting Kipperlily is using the Ethereal Plane to spy on the Bad Kids and if I'm right I might have figured how she got found out by the rogue teacher!

First, let me explain my paranoid thoughts about the spying. Since ep 3, we are aware that Kipperlily is hearing their conversations, even if we don't know for sure the extent of it. She, just like Riz, must have a crazy stealth modifier + reliable talent, however I don't think she's relying only on that.

So, there's a scene in ep 4 when the Bad Kids roll for perception to spot Kipperlily. Kristen casts See Invisibility and Fabian rolls a nat 20. Brennan describes, only to Fabian, that although he doesn't see Kipperlily, he feels the "twinge of some kind of sense". Very creepy. That implies that she's there but cannot be seen. She could be invisible, however I don't think that's the case because an invisible person could still be perceived through hearing or touch. Also, Kristen would have been able to see her because of the spell.

With that in mind, the paranoid goblin that lives inside my brain is convinced that she's using the Ethereal Plane to spy on the Bad Kids. The Border Ethereal is perfect for infiltration and spywork, since you pass through physical objects and watch everything in the material plane without ppl there perceiving you. There are a couple of ways to access the Ethereal Plane, with spells or items, but I have no ideia abt the specific method she might be using.

Her being in the ethereal plane explains why Fabian, with his nat 20, didn't notice any physical indicatives of Kipperlily but still felt a presence, like some sixth sense. Now, Adaine did use her Third Eye so she could see into the Ethereal Plane within 60 feet and still saw nothing. But that doesn't mean that Kipperlily isn't there since there's a very easy way to circumvent Adaine: Non detection. This is a third level spell that hides the target from divination magic - for 8 hours they "can’t be targeted by any divination magic or perceived through magical scrying sensors". The Rat Grinders, long time haters of the Bad Kids, are for sure aware that Adaine is a divination wizard, they would be fools to spy on the party without casting Non Detection first. She's the motherfucking elven oracle!

Okay, now about the rogue teacher. In ep 3, Siobhan theorizes the rogue professor is the ghost teacher. I think she's absolutely right! We know most teachers of Aguefort and even if the ghost one was among those we havent seen, the Bad Kids would probably have heard about them if they were teaching something like ranger class. It's plausible that the reason for the party having no ideia who they are and not even passing by them in the halls is that the ghost is the rogue professor. After all, no one knows who the hell they are, it's the whole point of their teaching method. And for a ghost it would be really easy to go undetected since they can travel through the Ethereal Plane, beside the insane stealth.

Indulge my conspiracy theories for a minute. Rogue professor = Ghost Teacher and Kipperlily can wander in the Ethereal Plane, the plane of ghosts. Even with the advantage of being on the same plane as the teacher, it would still be a nightmare to find them since they are a pro rogue. In fact, Kipperlily didn't achive that: the rogue teacher found her.

But how did she manage to have the professor find her? I'm sure it wasn't an accident, she's too calculating for that. So, I started thinking about what would I do in her place and came up with the stupidest ideia. It's utterly ridiculous. But it could totally work and the strategy seems kinda Kipperlily's style.

Remember the Ghost Steak? The one Fig tried to eat when she invaded the teacher's lounge in season one? It's the ghost teacher's lunch, and Brennan reestablished its existence in ep 3 when Adaine used Ethereal Sight, explaining that the school wards are porous enough to allow ethereal travel and other stuff.

So if I was Kipperlily, my dumbass plan would go as follows: invade the teacher's lounge through the ethereal plane and hide inside the fridge. It wouldn't be a problem for me since I'm intangible and can pass through stuff, plus the other professors wouldn't see me even if they opened the fridge. Inside, I wait as long as needed, until the Rogue/Ghost Teacher gets hungry. They finally open the fridge to grab their snack, only to find me looking at them from inside the fridge like a lunatic. Mission complete: got found by the rogue teacher and aced junior year!

It's so mundane and stupid and that makes me more convinced that's exactly what happened. It's too funny to not be true.

[alphajocklover]

Like OMG hunty! This is like totes, such a fun little site you have here. Apps, charms, and all that like. So here is like the stitch bitch, I’m this super swishy liberal queen but like I’m also an actor. And I’m up for this part and like I totes don’t know why my agent even thought of it for me. He’s this super conservative, awful straight douche. Like totally obnoxious. Crude. Belittles women and guys like me. And like I said super conservative. And I was wondering like omg, this is silly but is there anyway you could make me fit the part?

I’m glad you like my work, though I’m a little offended at how you put it. Calling it ‘a fun little site’ makes me worry you might not be taking what you’re getting into very seriously. Being transformed is incredibly serious business. You’ll be giving up your identity, or at least a large part of it, to become someone else. And even the safest ways of doing transformations can go horribly wrong. Taking on that risk for a movie role… either you’re a fool, or an incredibly dedicated actor. Possibly both. I’m going to assume it’s just the latter for my own conscience, and because if that really is the case… I’m actually pretty impressed. To go as far as to use unnatural means to alter your body and mind so you can better fit a role… it speaks to a passion for your work that most people never find. So even though I’m still a little offended… I’ll help you. More than that, I’m going to make you one of the greatest actors of all time. This isn’t going to be an easy task. I know you specifically asked for help fitting into this one role, but if you’re going to become a truly great actor, you’re going to need range. Playing only straight douchebags will only get you so far. You’re going to need to be able to change to fit whatever role you’re playing, which means an ongoing transformation. Those aren’t very easy to pull off. There are ways to do it, but my work isn’t sophisticated enough to do those. I’m a decent TF reporter, but actually doing TFs is still fairly new for me. A spell could work, but it would take much more magic than I have. I’m not even sure a talented wizard could pull off a spell like that without a coven to back them up. My next option would be nanobots or something, like the kind the Douchebag Revolution uses. But I’d have to get some from the revolution, and then reprogram them… and I’m not exactly an expert programmer. Programming is hard enough, but programming nanobots? Magically charged nanobots? Yeah that's not happening. I could always ask my Uncle’s friend Nick, the devil I’ve mentioned before, since his magic can do some truly incredible and complicated things, but for something this big he’d definitely want your soul. Even the wishing supernova might not work, as wishes this complicated are incredibly hard to pull off right. None of the other methods I’ve mentioned before would work well either… so if we’re going to pull this off, we’ll have to use something different. Something new. Something like… A potions set! Now, that probably sounds a little strange. I mean, considering how complicated I just told you this transformation will be to pull off, making it work with some magic cocktail probably sounds crazy. The thing is I’m not giving you one potion. I’m giving you dozens of them. In the box you’ve just received are a large amount of potions, each one set to transform you into a different movie cliche. We’ve got one that will make you into a hardboiled detective, one that will turn you into a sports star, and even one that will make you into a superhero. And those are only some of them. Take a potion that's the closest to the role you want to get, and for the next 24 hours you’ll have the personality of that person, all while still remembering your true self. With this, you will literally be the perfect method actor! And with a little extra magic, people won’t even realize you’re doing it. They’ll just think you’re a great actor! With the set of potions I’ve given you, some hard work, and a bit of deception, you just might be the greatest actor to ever live. And when you’re not playing a role, you can always have some fun with the potions in your regular life. Why don’t you try one now? This one looks interesting. ‘The Action Hero’.

Ok… wow. That worked really well. I wasn’t sure it’d be this effective but I guess I’ve got a knack for potion making! I’m glad you like your new body so much. I would too honestly, look at those pecs! And the personality transformation aspect seems to be working well too, considering the hint of superiority in your smirk and how you can’t keep your eyes off the delivery woman's tits. Enjoy being a straight, douchebag action hero. And if you ever need a potion refill or anything specific, just let me know. Now stop flirting with that girl and get going, you’re going to miss your audition!

**I'll admit, I think this one might have gotten a little bit away from me. I've been thinking about potions a lot lately, and the idea of an actor literally transforming to fit a role really excited me. I know the person who sent this probably wanted a bigger focus on the douchebag part of the TF, but I got so excited by the idea. I hope you still like it, and feel free to send in another on**

[brograndpa]

Looking at some party banter and losing my mind at the bloodweave ones in particular

Gale caught yapping again and only catches himself when Astarion makes that pained look of "I wasn't making a joke"

And now here Astarion is actually making a joke just to call Gale out on being a nerd that's oh so easy to shove inside a locker.

The nosy wizard is going to get us killed!! (The more delusional take is that he's worried instead akdhfkdjd)

I wouldn't describe Kethric's throne as comfortable...

Aaaaaand there it is. Love that they have the conversation continue.

I like this one. It feels like Gale's silly and overly eager nerdiness actually serves as a grounding point for Astarion. Unnerved? Just wait for the wizard to say some nonsense trivia for a soft reset of one's mind.

I like to imagine Astarion throwing his arm over Gale's shoulder as he says this. They've grown attached to each other's company, and just as Gale's given Astarion a taste for books, Astarion has given Gale a zest for life he might have lost entirely if not for the concern of the orb going off.

I think it's really something that this is a conversation with Gale. If not for Gale's relationship with Mystra, I feel like he'd have the same atheistic approach towards them as Astarion. After all, Gale only saw Mystra's protection of herself as hiding away secrets from mortals.

Just why is he so concerned with Gale's love life?!?!? I get that Astarion's a gossip, but I always found his interest here so strange.

Interesting how he holds off on asking this until Act 3, and it's only if you're romancing Gale. Like is he trying to divide the two of you further by making Gale speak positively of Mystra? Why? Mission accomplished in its own way, but still, very strange.

I'm assuming this is Gale showing concern for the player character but also a bit of a reveal from Gale himself that he prefers his romances slow and paasionate. I like to think he's hoping things go well anyway, in spite of his preferences.

...And here's the proof for that hc, right here. He really does wish the best for Astarion, because if anyone's known heartbreak, it's Gale. Crazy how Astarion, so used to just using Gale as an emotional reset button by constantly ribbing him, instead returns the sincerity in kind. I think it speaks so much to their relationship with each other that, in spite of their early animosity, both of them recognize how much friendlier the atmosphere between them has grown. Add to this the shrinking amount of distance between their tents, and you can really see the point at which they stop being frenemies and instead consider each other true friends. A rarity for them both.

Gale is being 100% genuine here btw. I don't think he forgot about the orb, I think he's just delusionally of the belief that he can change how it tastes if he gives it willingly.

My headcanon is that orb-free Gale in postgame keeps the offer on deck anyway. He just wants to help! And yet, if it does happen, it will never not feel like the two of them are cheating on Tav together 💔

Lol. Just wait until you're in those shackles, Gale...

[bloodyshadow1]

so if the bad kids do the classic, switch to defeat your doppleganger move that happens a lot when facing the rat grinders, I think this is how it should go down. (note this was written last week before ep 18, where they used a lot of their resources) This is a purely hypothetical party vs party combat

Ruben-Fabian or Adaine. Fabian with his eyepatch is immune to fear which a lot of college of whispers does really well, as a half-elf he gets wisdom saving throws on charm which is also the bard's bread and butter. He's a fast fighter bard with spellslots to use basically as smites. so he could really blast down Ruben before things start. Adiane as an elf is another good choice like fabian she has advantage against charm affects and while she is not immune to fear like fabian she has a better wisdom save than he does since she is proficient. I would put Fabian over her though mechanically, and he is also a fan of Ruben's so it would be funny to watch them fight

Ivy- Gorgug. He's not the best option, but he's probably the bad kids best counter to her. as a ranger and fighter, she can do a lot of damage to the others with her range, having to deal with a barbarian who can keep hitting you from range. attacking recklessly would negate a lot of the benefit of Shadowy dodge and as a barbarian he would be able to shrug off most of her ranged attacks. He probably has some artificer item that would let him create a light thing like the solar lasso so she wouldn't always be able to hide in the darkness. For the lesser affects of her arcane arrows and ranger abilities, Gorgug has pretty decent saves, and for the dangerous ones like Banishing Arrow, he can at least use flash of genius on himself to bolster those saves. The Ranger part is kind of lost on me, the spells seems decent but nothing that can really stop Gorgug since he's a barbarian, but could mess up someone else in the party. Ranger spells are decent, but he has a pretty strong counter and I can't see Ivy being higher than level 9 in ranger since it seems like fighter was her base class and it has to split somehow.

Oisin- Fig. As a lore bard/paladin/warlock I think it would be best for her to get into Oisin's face and smite the hell out of him. You can't counterspell a smite. As a wizard he is probably the squishiest member of his party so taking him out would be very important. Additionally, she has counterspell which could leave him in trouble in close range. With Shield, Oisin can have a decent ac so there's that, but he's still a wizard who rolled a d6 each level.

Kipperlily-Kristen. While it surprisingly works president versus president, it also works as a cleric with heavy armor. It's not great as a defense against a high level rogue, but it's better than most of her friends have. Not to mention Kristen can do aoe none dex spells that are good against rogues as they won't get evasion from them. it's not great to have your healer dealing with the parties rogue, but sometimes you don't really have another choice. Lots of dangerous cleric spells don't have a dex saving throw so it could be useful once Kristen can see her

Buddy- Adaine. Not a particularly important match up story wise, it has potential but nothing juicy. still a wizard like adaine wouldn't be the worst match against buddy, spell caster vs spell caster, arcane vs divine. Not to mention I think that Buddy doesn't have a lot of HP and probably isn't expecting a melee wizard like Adaine. Adaine can counterspell Buddy's spells while he can impose disadvantage as a light domain cleric, but Wizards don't just make attack rolls, they have saves. Also I think it would be a good contrast in their thoughts, Buddy believing he doesn't cast spells, that Helio/unnamed rage god works through him to cast spells vs Adaine who as a wizard has learned all of her spells. It's also a good contrast between the Bad Kids and the Rat grinders about the theme of this season, hard work vs taking the easy way out.

Mary-Ann - Riz. This is probably one of the worst match ups, no one wants to go up against a high level barbarian 1v1. This isnt' an anime where the fast sneaky person can just lure the big strong bad guy away and keep them distracted. It's dnd where Mary-Ann might just ignore any physical damage because she can at the start.

I think the key to dealing with Mary-Ann is to not fight her. The Bad girls can get around her barbarian resistances with their spells but will go down in a few hits. Fabian can't do enough damage even with all his attacks, Fandragor doesn't do anything about the damage type Fabian does I believe, it works like smites but just increases the Piercing Damage instead of dealing Radiant damage. Gorgug is another Barbarian, but as cool as his new subclass is, I wouldn't put it up against a full also high level barbarian 1v1. Which leaves Riz

However, I think he's the only one who could survive a few rounds with her, he can keep sneaking with his bonus action, disengage (unless she has sentinel), or misty stepping with the Sword of Shadows to get away from her and out of sight and while she will keep halving any damage he does from sneak attack, it's still a decent chuck that even a high level barbarian can't ignore forever. Leaving Riz who can do a decent amount of damage each turn with his sneak attack and not be close to her, he can also halve one of her three attacks. Riz can also do a lot of tricky stuff as an Arcane trickster, Mary-Ann might be immune to fear and charm affects, but she isn't immune to all illusions and enchantments. He could trick her and keep her busy with his spells, with magical ambush she would be rolling her saves with disadvantage. A smart player like Murph could do a lot with his spell list to a Barbarian.

Now obviously, like I said under Mary-Ann/Riz, dnd is not an anime/show/comic book/etc where you can just switch against your doppleganger and win. I think the Bad Kids would beat the Rat Grinders because they know their shit more and they are a party that genuinely cares for each other so their team work has to be better than the party of their dark mirrors who were literally handed xp to power level. That being said I do think the Bad Kids could take their counterpart in 1v1 (with the exception of Gorgug)

Also with the Preview of the next ep(19) the Bad Kids will have to deal with Jace, a high level Sorcerer, and Porter a legendary Barbarian/Paladin, who are definitely more dangerous than a bunch of high schoolers who never really had to fight another party.

Still this was just fun to think about. If you have any thoughts let me know. If you think of your own matchups that you want to discuss also let me know.

[whimsicalwritingsandmore]

Want You Back | ateez x reader

Pairing: werewolf!ot8!ateez x werewolf!reader

Genre: fluff mostly, romance, poly, a little angst?

Warnings for this chapter: none

Word Count: 2150 words

a/n: hello!! hope you enjoy this chapter! I am curious, how is the pacing so far? while editing, I changed up a lot of scenes and spaced them out in other chapters. I'm curious to know your thoughts on how the story is flowing so far - is it too slow or is it okay? all your feedback is greatly appreciated! :)

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Chapter 5

It had been about a week and a half since Mingi's arrival, and for the most part, things took a turn for the better. Mingi was very thoughtful and patient, he was careful not to push or pressure you into doing anything you were uncomfortable with. It was difficult for him at first however, as he wasn’t sure how to begin to fix things with you.

Thankfully, when you introduced Mingi to Chan, the older wizard was kind enough to offer him advice and assist him.

“Give her space,” he explained, “Allow her the time to make her own decisions and think things through without feeling pressured. Show her that you respect her and her choices even if it might not be in your favour.”

Changbin also offered his own advice since he and Mingi shared the same birthday month and he took pride in that. 

“Do little things now and again for her. Don’t do anything over the top! Just small things like buy her a pastry or cook a meal. Send her a kind text during the day now and again. Maybe even ask to take a stroll in the evening at the park sometime.”

Most of your friends welcomed Mingi kindly even though they were quite apprehensive, given your history with him. The only one bold enough to stand his ground was Jisung. He made it particularly and significantly clear that he will not go easy on Mingi and will not hesitate to make him disappear. At first, Mingi found it humorous, seeing it as a baseless threat but Changbin indicated that Jisung could be a menace when he wanted to. So while Jisung smiled sweetly but intimidatingly in the corner of the apartment twiddling his wand in hand, Mingi blinked three times in concern and looked at you. You assured him everything was fine, but truthfully, you weren’t so sure about Mingi’s safety because you did hear about Jisung’s fearsome alter ego. But you weren’t gonna tell Mingi that. 

As for Mingi, he took a while to comprehend your new found life. Slowly, you both realised Mingi thrived better doing more physically energetic pursuits rather than standing behind the cash register with Jisung nearby watching him like a hawk. Chan offered to recruit Mingi at the apothecary to help with running errands with Hyunjin and organising and moving boxes and shelves with Felix and Jeongin. Mingi enjoyed it and felt that it was a good approach in giving you a chance to have space for yourself.

It surprised you how easy going he became with all of it, because though Mingi is kindhearted, he still was an alpha werewolf who does not necessarily do well with being told what to do. Maybe he was actually scared of Jisung? You were curious about what was going on inside his head and jokingly asked Chan if he could pick his brain.

Chan laughed and said no while Minho and Seungmin unapologetically agreed. Chan deadpanned at the two. 

"But I'm curious too!" they argued.

During the week, Chan suggested everyone should have a night out at the karaoke place. While you and Felix belted your hearts out trying to pass Seungmin and Jeongin’s high score, Mingi sat behind you, mesmerised by your voice. It was one of those moments as of recently, where he savoured your presence. He observed your newly dyed hair with streaks of blonde, your pretty hoop earrings, your beaded and charm bracelets adorning your wrists and your outfit.

He remembered vividly the first time the two of you met. You were with Hongjoong as the latter dragged you into the store for snacks while he complained that you ate all of his. Mingi was working at the store during that time and the moment all three of you came into contact, you felt the magnetic pull. It was enchanting and captivating. And meeting you introduced Mingi to another way of life. He began to feel more comfortable in his skin and who he was, you helped him to become confident and maybe even a little reckless when you appeared at his window in the early morning, recruiting him to go with you and Hongjoong to watch the sunrise. In the times when Hongjoong was unable to go, you and Mingi ventured out and spent the time talking and planning for the future.

And whereas Hongjoong was a stickler for not showing affection outside of your private space, Mingi would back hug you as you strolled down the street. The one time he did it to Hongjoong, they both rolled down the hill with Mingi landing on top of him while you watched in panic.

But at least, that's how you met Seonghwa and Yunho. 

In reminiscing, Mingi realised that you met all of them, excluding him, in smaller groups. He discovered that none of you really took the time to get to know each other personally or one on one. 

Mingi was snapped out of his daydreaming by Jisung who poked him with one of the mics. 

"Yes?"

"You weren't moving, so I was wondering if you became a statue.”

"I’m fine."

"Mhmm," he said, "Come on, let’s step outside for a minute."

Mingi was kind of concerned but still he followed him out the door cautiously.

"So are you okay?" Jisung asked.

"Why do you care?” Mingi questioned.

“I don’t really, but you are Y/N’s soulmate and I care about her. So I gotta make sure you’re not going to do something stupid and hurt her.”

“Wow.” Mingi drawled.

“So I shall ask again, are you okay?”

Mingi sighed.

Yeah I just...I realised all of us never really got to know each other personally. All of a sudden we just got together, a big group of nine, and we never took the time to spend with one another. Maybe only Hongjoong and Y/N have.”

Jisung eyed Mingi carefully before responding, "Yeah I know what you mean.”

“You do?”

Jisung rolled his eyes, “That was me when I met Minho, we clicked almost immediately and everything came so naturally, we never really took the time to just be friends and get to one another personally. You know, like really getting to each other for who we are, not just our likes and dislikes but how we operate and think."

"I feel like something happened."

"Something did…” Jisung contemplated for a moment before continuing, “We started to just expect that we would understand each other and meeting the others amplified that. So as we started to split our time, we expected certain things from each other and when it wasn't being met we would argue a lot. We expected that the other person would do things for the other and it became a whole mess."

"What did you guys do to fix it?"

"Chan intervened and we basically did what you and Y/N are doing now, and we also sought therapy from one of Chan's friends and it helped us better understand each other."

"Do you think Y/N and I should try therapy?"

"Do whatever works best for you. Therapy might be a good idea and I think you are doing well with taking your time for now. Maybe bring it up after a few weeks if you still feel like it would help. I've seen the way you’re trying.”

“Oh my gosh, did you just say something nice to me!?” Mingi gasped.

Jisung smirked, “I don’t dislike you Mingi. I’m just wary of you. I saw how broken Y/N was when she got here and she has told me little bits here and there. As her friend who also sees her as a sister, I don’t want to see her hurt again.”

Mingi felt a sense of appreciation at the way Jisung cared about you. 

"I feel bad about hurting Y/N like that,” Mingi confessed, “I’m a terrible person.”

"You’re not. You’re not a bad person, it was a terrible, terrible lapse in judgement if you ask me or whatever, but you’re learning and that’s the most important thing you can do right now, learn and not be ignorant.”

"Thanks Jisung, I feel a little better now."

"You’re welcome and I still will not hesitate to deal with you or any of the others if you hurt her. "

When it was time to leave, you walked side to side with Mingi hands in your jacket pockets as the two of you commented on the day’s events. The night was chilly but it provided the perfect opportunity in Mingi’s mind to stay in a little close proximity to you to give you more warmth. He was mindful not to overstep any boundaries but you didn’t mind this time, and allowed him to cosy up a little next to you. He had to leave to go back home tomorrow, Chan offering to open a portal and giving him a way back to you. 

Mingi didn't want to leave but the others were waiting for him. With Chan’s help, he got into contact with Yunho who he told that he needed to be away for a while after the previous dinner events. Now, he was going back to explain the matter, ask to be temporarily put on leave from his duties and express his decision to stay with you for however long he wanted. 

This time it was necessary for it to be one-on-one as Jisung educated him. He had to make it right.

He wasn't sure how the others would react but he hoped that they might come back with him at the very least maybe.

While the two of you waited for the others to catch up, you told Mingi that you were going to dispose of some wrappers in your pocket. As you rounded a corner that was a little far off where a trash can was located, your thoughts were interrupted by a strange voice.

"Well well well, if it isn't one of us." a sickly voice sang.

You turned around at the voice. You had no clue who they were exactly but judging by the tattoo on their arm, they were rogues. How were they here?

"What the heck do you want?” You questioned.

“Now, that’s no way to talk to an alpha."

“You’re not my alpha and I do not care to talk to you.”

“Aww but you’re hurting my feelings.”

"Bleh." You gagged.

They were not amused by your response and it didn't take long for them to swing at you. You dodged and tried to find a way out but after some scuffling you did end up with a bruised lip and your arm being pinned behind your back. You weren't scared at first but you needed backup and fast.

With every fibre of your being, you drowned out the taunts of the rogues and focused on your connection to Mingi. You called Mingi's name hoping he would hear.

"That's a nice necklace you have there." the sickly voice commented.

Your half moon necklace was given to you by your mates, representing your clan. You never took it off and it was your most prized possession. As the sticky finger rogue attempted to reach for it, a hand grabbed him with force and pressure. Every single one of his bones cracked gruesomely and his skin began to turn a grisly black and blue.

"Do not ever touch my mate." Mingi snarled ferociously. 

His eyes turned into his gold werewolf colour and he threw the rogue back effortlessly. You could feel the change in Mingi’s aura as he glowered dangerously at the other one that was pinning your arm and swung at him, hitting him right in the nose, a sickening crack ringing through. He scowled at the other two who stepped back seeing the infuriated alpha. They ran off leaving behind their members. 

“Pathetic.” he seethed.

As he composed himself on seeing you, Mingi rushed to help you and escort you back. He began to fuss all over you, his sentences rushing through like a waterfall.

"I got your pull, it freaked me out because I should've known better to let you go alone! I'm so glad you're okay! I'm not leaving again, I'll tell Chan to send a letter or something, are you okay!? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Mingi…” you began, “You're going to have to go back."

"What!? No! Why!?"

You noticed something. Besides Mingi’s connection, you began to feel the pull and call of your other seven mates. Though you called for Mingi specifically when you focused your mind on him, being in danger and initiating your soul bond after so long, activated the connection for your other mates which meant that your connection to all of them that was once dormant, was now ignited.

They felt it too. You could hear their calls.

"They know."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tag list:

@eastleighsblog @sehun096rainbow @greensnakeglobep @satsuri3su @idfkeddieishot @zonked-times @sugarrush-blush

a/n: hi again! unfortunately, I was unable to tag you @greensnakeglobep :( I'm really sorry about this, I'm not sure why I'm not able to. if anyone could clarify how to fix this, please let me know, thank you!!

[galedekarios]

Keeping this anon, but I hear you hate bloodweave. I was curious on your take to why.

You don't have to reply to this if it makes you uncomfortable thought!!

i'd like to preface this again by saying that this is my opinion. idc what you ship.

i've talked about this here, but i don't mind reiterating my points:

they have no chemistry, to the contrary, gale shuts him down right away during their first talk and ast*rion's manipulation attempts. i assume that gale sees right through him from the beginning. a lot of people love to hc gale as naive as or as completely taken with ast*rion, but it's the complete opposite. i imagine his many years in waterhavian society made him realise quite quickly what type of person he's dealing with. the relationship they have doesn't progress much from that. by act iii they - at best - begrudgingly tolerate each other.

they are diametrically opposed in the things they value as people as well as their morals. gale is kind-hearted, he approves of helping those in need, children, mothers, slaves, refugees, even the animals you meet in-game. he seeks to avoid bloodshed, approves of letting people who want to pay the party back for their help keep their money and belongings. he seeks knowledge and even power not for selfish reasons or a taste for the darker things, but because he seeks to better their odds of survival against a seemingly invincible foe. ast*rion meanwhile is selfish and cruel and vile. he delights in violence and bloodshed, he finds the struggle of people caught in the crosshairs amusing. he is greedy and short-sighted, seeking power for himself, no matter the cost to others.

they are completely incompatible in terms of what they look for in a relationship and a potential partner. gale wants and needs a deeper connection, a tangling of the souls, and he needs someone to be there for him unequivocally, to love him for who he is as he is. he is not taken in by someone's looks or image they present of themselves, nor does he do hate sex / endless bickering / enemies to fwb / etc.

the first things he cites for trusting the protag are their good actions (helping mirkon, helping arabella, seeking to ease the tension between zevlor and aradin), it's all those things that at first make him trust the protag and later - when they unselfishly offer him help, give him artefacts - makes him fall in love with them. sex and immediate gratification isn't important to him. sex is a component - one way in an array of ways to proclaim love.

for ast*rion, it's manipulation first and his entire romance hinges on that. his partner falling for his looks and his text book manipulation into sex. that's already where this breaks apart for me in terms of this ship because that doesn't work with gale.

add to that ast*rion's cruel remarks about gale's when he is need:

[after gale's background story reveal] You'd have us debate? That Netherese jack-in-the-box should be a blip on the horizon by now!

[after mystra's demands] I can't believe Mystra's demanding Gale sacrifice himself to destroy the Absolute. It's just a waste of a perfectly good cult that we could be controlling. And a waste of a perfectly good Gale, I suppose.

[at the stormshore tabernacle] Well? Go on, then - it's rude to keep a goddess waiting.

[after orin potentially kidnaps gale] So, we kill Gortash or Gale dies? It's not an easy call. On the one hand, killing Gortash would be fun. On the other, Gale can be very annoying. We should probably save the wizard, though. He does have his moments.

i think it's very clear, given the fact that these reactions range from act i to act iii, that he doesn't give a singular fuck about gale. contrast this to karlach's reactions, or even shadowheart's:

Karlach: That bloody freak won't get away with this. That's my wizard she took. And we're going to get him back.

(particularly karlach has many reactions like this.)

...unless you play either of them as an origin char and make the most ooc choices, i do not see how this pairing is supposed to work.

additionally, as i've discussed more in my previous post, the parallels people draw between them are shallow at best or can be drawn virtually between any of the other origin companions, or are non-existent at worst. ast*rion having a reading animation that he shares with gale (as halsin and shadowheart do too), or having their tents next to each other (like wyll and gale do in act i) isn't really enough for me.

as i've said previously, i have tried to engage with the pairing because it's sadly inescapable since people often don't bother tagging, but there's nothing except shallow ooc stuff.

[fourmoony]

𝐨𝐡, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲

𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐥𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⭒⭒⭒

𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬' 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝.

𝟖𝟏𝟕 - masterlist

⭒⭒⭒

"I want one." I'd said, without even thinking.

Harry had just started to crawl. Lily was hovering over him rather nervously, wand at the ready to fix any bumps or bruises whilst James (who was very frazzled, but also very chuffed for his son) tried to figure out how to work the 'bloody muggle photo-thingy'.

Inside the Potter's living room, filled with laughter and joy, and so so much love for each other (and Baby Harry) it was all too easy to forget about the war. It was easy to forget the identifying questions James had made us answer on arrival, or the incantation we'd had to perform just to be able to see James and Lily's home. It was easy to forget the missions Sirius and Remus were being sent on, stretching out over weeks and days, or the missing muggles, witches and wizards, the rising death toll, the insistent nagging from The Dark Lord to change allegiances and join him.

On a lazy Sunday, where Lily would make soup and crusty rolls for lunch, and a roast for tea, where James and Sirius would spend hours transforming between their anamagi to amuse Baby Harry and Remus would read aloud whilst Peter and I played chess, it was easy to forget everything wrong with the world. It was so easy to just exist.

Remus looked up over the cover of his book and then down at his nephew, who was now sitting atop Padfoot, his father laughing maniacally whilst Lily shooed them out of the kitchen. He smiled an odd sort of smile, like he hadn't expected the words to come out of my mouth at all. Ever. Honestly, neither had I. Having children had been the last thing on my mind, in that time. But seeing the joy that Harry had brought to our friends, the life that Lily and James were building for him - it inspired me.

"Well," Remus mused, sitting his book down on the coffee table - careful to mind the cups of scattered tea everywhere - "I'll distract Lily. You could take Prongs in a duel. Easy."

His smile was wicked, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he came from the single arm chair to the sofa I was stretched across. He lifted my legs, sat them back on his lap, arm stretched along the back of the sofa behind me. I rolled my eyes at him, pouting, "You know fine well that's not what I meant, Lupin."

Remus laughed. A rare laugh, these days. My heart melted. He looked so much like the boy I'd fallen in love with all those years ago - the quiet (not at all quiet), studious, mysterious Remus Lupin. Little had I known he was the true mastermind to all 'Marauder' pranks, while remaining studious and mysterious, but also being the biggest, most sarcastic loud mouth I'd ever met. I had been in way too deep ever since.

"I know, love, I know." He patted my shin gently, lovingly.

He was thinking, behind those big, hazel eyes. I knew Remus inside and out, the moral debate was eating him alive. The self doubt, the inner fear he held of himself, of the wolf.

"I guess I never much thought of us having children. Of you wanting to have them, really, with me..." Remus looked pitiful, lost in thought, I frowned.

"Why wouldn't I want to have children with you? They'd be the prettiest, smartest, funniest babies to ever walk the Earth." I said confidently.

This earned me another laugh. Then, a shrug, "I dunno," Remus scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, "The wolf, I guess. It's not really one hundred percent that the kid wouldn't be."

I knew the possibility. But I also knew the progress that was being made in the ways of Lycanthropy. I knew how hard it had been for Remus, growing up. I knew he was cast aside, an afterthought, that people held prejudice against 'his kind', but I'd only ever loved him more for the strong man it had turned him into.

Not everyone was like this, though.

"I know the risks. I know you'll have put a lot more thought into it than me. A conversation for another time, maybe, but I'd like you to know," My hands reached for his face, guiding him to meet my eyes, "It would never be the wolf that put me off having children with you, Remus."

Remus smiled, a genuine smile and leaned forward to place his lips on mine. I settled back into the sofa, watched as Remus picked up his book, settling over my shins to read it.

"Your massive head..." I blew a whistle, "Now that might put me off."

Sirius cackled from the kitchen. Remus blew a raspberry and Harry copied him.

[hotchfiles]

second. damn your love.

pairing: james x fem!reader.

content warnings: james being kind of an ass, cheating on lily, lily will be probably shit talked (i luv her i'm very sorry !), mistress!reader, uhhh cursing, not totally AU but like... canon divergent i would say. probably hurt/no comfort unless i switch the ending but--

worth mentioning: reader insert with no use of names or “y/n”. paragraphs completely in italic are flashbacks. pro quidditch player!james. muggle born!reader.

word count: 2,2k

chapter 2

      For some reason unknown to you, it hadn't taken James as long as usual to give you any sign that he still remembered your existence after being with you. Surprisingly, on the same day after dropping you off at home and rushing to be with his girlfriend, he sent you a message through his patronus (much too recklessly as you lived in a majorly muggle neighbourhood), apologizing for what had happened.

      Normally, you would believe his words, and then become disappointed. However, after what happened, you didn't believe anything he said, you knew he wasn't sorry and you knew you probably wouldn't be seeing him for a while.

      All you felt like doing was laying down, still feeling completely shaken, disappointed, angry... Betrayed, and it took you a while to stop crying, you couldn't believe how easy it was to manipulate you, two days together and you actually started to think things were changing.

      Ingenuity or just the hard truth: It was easier to let yourself believe it.

      Luckily, or not, you still had your commitment to your responsibilities, if not your pride, you would try to maintain that instead, so the best decision was to get yourself together as best as you could the next day and go to work.

      Even though you lived mostly among muggles, a decision you had made long before graduating Hogwarts, you still ended up in a Ministry job, an obliviator. Not the most glamorous, and a lot of times you thought about getting a muggle job, but years went on and you got comfortable with it. Sometimes being able to forget is the best option there is.

      So got yourself together you did, the best as you could included showing up office ready and giving off the obvious energy that you did not want to be perturbed, especially after taking the tube half an hour later than you normally would, too loud, too full, it was probably one of the few times over the last years you wished you could just apparate in front of the right phone cabin. But an obliviator risking wizarding secrecy would be too much of an hypocrisy.

      You made sure you wouldn't be making any field work, taking the liberty to be shut in your office filling paperwork and crying, as any mature woman would if they were in your shoes: Exhausted from hating yourself because you knew you were an excellent witch, a strong-willed independent woman and still, every time James Potter smiled at you, you felt nothing but weakness.

      And there it was, the weakness as soon as you left the Ministry building and felt his gaze upon you, simply leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, his face completely relaxed.

      Your hands went straight to your eyes, reminding yourself of their appearance, you looked up at the sky for a few seconds and wondered if there was a god, because it didn't matter how much you begged either Merlin or Godric, you still didn't get one single moment of peace.

      "Were you crying?" he asked straight away, without even explaining why he was there. You shook your head denying it and found refuge for eyes on your feet. "You're a terrible liar."

      "I don't think you know me that well anymore," you sighed and tried your best to look at him firmly. "No car today?"

      "I don't indulge on those very often, apparition is still a thing, you know?" You tried your very best not to roll your eyes at the arrogance he displayed, favoring instead the idea that he had the car for the weekend to please you. "You ignored my patronus, I feel like you probably didn't even check your mail, my poor owl working over time for nothing, and you're the only witch I know who doesn't have a bloody fireplace. Kinda got worried that you were mad at me." His lips formed the pout you knew so well, and you had to bite you lips to prevent yourself from smiling.

      "Not having the fireplace goes hand in hand with the anti-apparition charm on my apartment." You shrugged, it was a way to avoid unwanted guests, so he pretended to be the upmost offended by that. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to concentrate on the reasons why you were angry with him. "We need to talk."

      "We can do that in your apartment. Let's talk there." He nodded, and you agreed. It wasn't something to discuss so close to where you worked, for sure. He offered his arm so you would apparate together and you ignored it completely, stretching your arm to the street to get a minicab to stop for you both.

      "I'm not risking magic exposure and being fired because you rarely indulge on cars, Potter." Weirdly enough he doesn't try to convince you otherwise, getting on the backseat with you.

      On the way he told you he had been waiting for you for at least forty minutes, which you weren't sure was even true, but on any other day you would've swooned over, but his true intentions showing up came to light so quickly, you couldn't. James kept touching your thigh with his right hand slowly, teasingly, and a pantsuit was never as helpful as then, because of it you could ignore his touches or at least pretend to ignore it.

      Despite the touches, James maintained a casual conversation with you, talking about trivialities from his day, like forgetting to take his vitamin supplement in the morning and running less that afternoon so he could get home in time to take a shower and pick you up. At least that was the term he used, even though you were in a cab.

      You enjoyed having conversations like that with him, knowing how his day had been and how he felt about the team, the training sessions... It brought a sense of normality, as if you were just an ordinary couple talking about everything or just friends talking about your lives. But at that moment, you couldn't enjoy it the way you normally would due to what still lingered on your mind from the previous night, not to mention the fact that the words coming out of his mouth sounded innocent, but his eyes and hands overflowed with nothing but.

      You felt like you were under torture, the rational part of your brain competing with your emotional part, which was shaken by any touch from James, any scraps of attention. You even felt relief when you arrived at your building, especially because there were other people in the elevator, preventing him from grabbing you there and making you forget everything you so wanted to tell him. But it didn't last long. As soon as you reached your floor, you were grabbed from behind, his hands firm on your waist while his lips roamed your neck.

      "James, we need to talk," you repeated what said before, freeing yourself from his arms and walking towards the door. You unlocked it with a silent charm and left the door open for him to enter next.

      "Talk about what?" You heard the question, but his tone showed no interest in talking. In fact, he pulls you by the arm and pushes you against the nearest wall, trapping you with his arms. you lost your breath for a few seconds due to the proximity. "We can talk later," James whispers in your ear, brushing his lips softly against yours, one of his hands touching your waist under your blouse. You almost lose it, but finds the strength to get out of his embrace and leave to the kitchen.

      "I want to talk about us," you said seriously, resolute in your decision to give him an ultimatum, tired of being the mistress, but you couldn't deny that after his teasing, you just wanted to wrap your legs around his waist and hear him say your name in between moans.

      "Brilliant, let's talk," James begins, slowly moving closer to you. "But we could just go to your room and enjoy our time in a more pleasurable way."

      You feel his hands again grabbing you around the waist, and his lips brushed lightly against your ear as he detailed all the other pleasurable things he could be doing to you.

      You give up, defeated, letting out a grunt and pulling him to you, starting a desperate kiss as he takes off your pantsuit and leads you stumbling back to your bed.

      It was late at night, almost two in the morning, when the noise woke you up, almost frightened as you had no idea what it could be at that time. your first instinct was to obviously grab your wand and go to the living room, ready to disarm or worse if it was an intruder, but you noticed that it someone knocking frantically on your door.

      "Who is it?" you asked loud and clear, assuming it was a stranger trying to pull some kind of scam, you've heard of cases like that happening around the muggle neighbourhoods, the knocking then stopped and you thought you had scared away whoever was there, but you were wrong.

      "It's me…" The voice was familiar, but you doubted it was who the voice reminded you of, so you waited for more before you decided or not to open it. "James." You froze and held you breath, but still denying mentally that it could be him.

      "James? Need to be more specific."

      "Don't remember me anymore?" It was him, surely. James Potter. You hadn't seen him since the turn of the previous year, but truthfully, you hadn't really spoken to him in years, you couldn't even imagine how in hell had he found your address. "Potter."

      "What you doing here?" You open the door, giving him the space he needed to enter and smelling the alcohol invading your apartment. "It's two in the morning."

      "Not sure…" He seemed a bit disoriented, obviously because of the alcohol, but he wasn't about to fall over drunk and you mentally thanked him for that. "Was in a pub having a few, but they closed…Kept thinking about you and here I am."

      A shiver ran through your whole body and you cussed yourself, it was pathetic how he could still cause such a thing so many years after your relationship, after your last kiss, unfortunately you had never really managed to forget him, but instead you hid him deep in your memories, that way you wouldn't have to deal with your true feelings for him when you saw each other at a mutual friend's house or anything of the sort.

      But still, you did to this day found yourself thinking about him at times, but that didn't help you understand why he would be there at such a time, or why he would be thinking about you when in fact the only reason you had left his life was because of him, because if he wasn't such a dick, you might still be in a relationship today, or at least be best friends like you used to be.

      "Know what…" Even though you haven't responded to anything he's said before, he sits down on your sofa awkwardly and you feel completely uncomfortable with the situation, crossing your arms, unable to move more than that. "I'm such a twat." James lets out a weak laugh of discontent. "Letting you go that day… Mum told me what happened, but I still didn't look for you." It was amazing how he could form sentences almost perfectly even though he stank of alcohol miles away.

      "James, what do you want?" you sigh, still not understanding anything that's going on. He simply gets up and walks towards you, making you instinctively move away until you reach the end of the line, one of the walls of the living room. "Potter?"

      "I want things between us to go back to normal." His perfume takes you over as he gets closer, replacing the smell of firewhiskey, and you try not to get dizzy. "Just want you." Panic is your first reaction as his lips come close to yours and you push him away.

      "You have a girlfriend." You look into his eyes, being as serious as possible without showing how tempted you were, making exaggerated gestures with your hands to show him how wrong it was.

      "Shh, forget it, just f'now. I'll fix it, swear I'll fix everything." You soften at his words and sigh, you're probably losing your mind but still you walk towards him with your arms open for a hug and he immediately finds himself taking the chance.

      "Missed you." Your voice nothing but a whisper and James nods in response, stroking your hair.

      The affectionate embrace evolves quickly into a quiet kiss that becomes more and more desperate and before you know it, you're both on the sofa, blending into one.

      You woke up the next day feeling partially satisfied, but guilt consumed you entirely, you had slept with a committed guy, what kind of woman were you? And not only that… What would James and you be from then on?

      "Bloody hell." And there you were, waking up after given in to James' charms again, just like the first time, just like every time after that, it was frustrating how much power he held over you, you couldn't take it anymore, you were done.

tag: @xcinnamonmalfoyx

[hollowed-theory-hall]

is the 'heir' a thing in wizarding world?

like Heir of Slytherin i think it was most for the plot than real thing, but are Heir of Black/Malfoy/etc the same? or just a baby producer and power holding, especially if ministry and society year by year becomes more distant from pureblood ideology

it's also a common fanon trope for the Heirs (i talk about rings with special powers and goblins), and more often strange than interesting

I think it is. I mentioned in multiple posts my thoughts on the Wizengamot being an older kind of House of Lords therefore being a hereditary position here, here, here, and here. I also mentioned my thoughts about the Goblins being involved with wizarding heirlooms here (the answer is I don't think they are, but write whatever you want).

As for the ministry going further from pureblood ideology every year, I don't think that's true. Not really.

I mean, Arthur Weasley says that during the first war Death Eaters outnumbered the Order 20 to 1:

“Oh, Molly, come on, it’s about time you got used to hearing it — look, I can’t promise no one’s going to get hurt, nobody can promise that, but we’re much better off than we were last time, you weren’t in the Order then, you don’t understand, last time we were outnumbered twenty to one by the Death Eaters and they were picking us off one by one. . . .”

(OotP, 177)

And I don't think he was referring to marked Death Eaters. Even if we look at the Ministry during the Death Eater reign in book 7, very few ministry personnel are actually replaced, many of the people working in the ministry go along with the blood purists or even agree with them — like Umbridge.

We also know in the last war Voldemort had many followers, even within the ministry:

“Well, firstly, he wants to build up his army again,” said Sirius. “In the old days he had huge numbers at his command; witches and wizards he’d bullied or bewitched into following him, his faithful Death Eaters, a great variety of Dark creatures. You heard him planning to recruit the giants; well, they’ll be just one group he’s after. He’s certainly not going to try and take on the Ministry of Magic with only a dozen Death Eaters.”

(OotP, 93)

“Tonks and Arthur would lose their jobs at the Ministry if they started shooting their mouths off,” said Sirius, “and it’s very important for us to have spies inside the Ministry, because you can bet Voldemort will have them.”

(OotP, 94)

Even families like the Weasleys who are considered blood traitors, are condescending towards muggles, muggleborns, and squibs. Ron mentions this in book 1:

“Are all your family wizards?” asked Harry, who found Ron just as interesting as Ron found him. “Er — Yes, I think so,” said Ron. “I think Mom’s got a second cousin who’s an accountant, but we never talk about him.”

(PS, 73)

So, really, blood purity is more of a scale than a yes or no sort of thing, and their entire society is steeped in it. Their very language is influenced by it. I mean, Harry is referred to as a "half-blood" even when both his parents were wizards by practically everyone. (there is a larger reblog chain about this here)

“And what would you say, Royal, to those listeners who reply that in these dangerous times, it should be ’Wizards first’?” asked Lee. “I’d say that it’s one short step from ’Wizards first’ to ’Purebloods first,’ and then to ’Death Eaters,” replied Kingsley. “We’re all human, aren’t we? Every human life is worth the same, and worth saving.”

(DH, 378)

Kingsley's stance seems to be in the minority. The fact is that even common, random wizards, not part of the Order or Death Eaters, still believe wizards should come first. Kingsley is right in how easy "wizards first" can become to "purebloods first" and that's the society they live in where, for the average wizard, muggles are seen as lesser. Their lives aren't treated as having the same worth as a wizard's life.

The wizarding world is steeped in their bigotry even among people who aren't Death Eaters, so I don't think it's correct to say their society is moving away from pureblood ideology, they're all blood-purist at a different point on the scale.

[traincat]

hello!! i reaally wanted to write a fic centered around johnny and mayhaps the rest of the f4, but i haven't read many of their comics yet and i don't wanna accidentally make them too ooc. can you gimme some tips on characterization please???

also hey, here's the anon who asked u about f4 characterization. which comics would you recommend in terms of best characterization??

Hey anon, sorry for the wait! So honestly I've been thinking a lot about characterization and I think this is a general rule but also it goes especially for comic characters who have been written by so many people over the years -- there's never going to be one branch of "in character." Everything is filtered through every writer's experiences at all times. So I think an important thing is to look at your characterization and ask yourself whether it feels right and real to you. Ultimately, you're the one who has to be happy with it.

I also think the way "in character" is treated sometimes in fandom isn't necessarily helpful. As an example: say it's common practice in Made Up Fandom to say Character A never cries. If you have him cry in fic it's out of character, says snide tweet 2024 to eight billion likes. And like, sure, maybe Character A cries a lot in some fic and not so much in canon, but the thing is everyone cries. It's not particularly useful from a characterization standpoint to say "Character A never cries." It's more helpful to go, "In what situation do I think Character A would cry? What would push him to tears? Does he cry when he's happy, sad, angry?" When I wrote Work Song, I needed a scene where Peter broke down and revealed everything, which was a problem because he's not Mr. Let Other People Help. So I took the time to push him into a corner where I felt it was organic that the character would share his problems. It's easy to go "X is out of character" but not constructive. It stretches your muscles more to try and figure out how to get X to a point where what you want to happen is in character. Go with your instincts; they're usually pretty good and they're something that will only get better the more you use them.

Also, and your mileage may vary on this one, but what's useful for me is to kind of look at characterization as excavation -- you're digging up something, uncovering it piece by piece. You can see the ground layer but now you've got to break through underneath it. For characters who have been in hundreds of issues like Johnny, I like to hit up really weird little single issues or lesser known series. There's this one issue that's formatted as one of those Wizard Magazine interviews where Johnny lists his three favorite movies as two installments of a Simon Williams action piece that would be equivalent to the MCU-style movies and also Titanic, and that one has always stuck with me as a really fun detail. Or there's a Marvel Knights 4 issue where every other word out of Johnny's mouth is a reference to a horror movie.

(Marvel Knights 4 #26) Thanks Johnny. Another Johnny thing I really like to keep in mind is that what's going on underneath and what's going on on the surface are not necessarily the same thing. Johnny can come off selfish, entitled, immature, or uncaring, but there's a deep volcano of compassion inside there. He's a very emotional character, which is something that's always fun to write.

I also find repetition really helpful when I'm trying to get the basics of a character down, which, again, might not be helpful for anyone else. Or it might only be useful for certain characters -- it's a lot easier to reread twenty issues than two thousand. I love my reference folder because a lot of times I'll remember some line or little canon thing and want to look it up and read it again. If you don't like saving panels from comics, just writing down what issue something is in is helpful, too. But that's just what works for me.

For Johnny specific comics, I have a bunch of Fantastic Four comics recs here (note that the "current run" I advise against in this post is Slott's run and not North's) and here! I hope you find some comics that you love and that you write the Johnny fic of your dreams!

[avesomnia-inhoramortis]

[ooc]

The hardest part of characterizing Miquella, for me, is reasoning out his consort decisions.

I don't think Miquella was in love with Radahn. If he was, he would've advertised it, made statues and gilded armor and all kinds of things, but there's no evidence of that. Of the weapons we can confirm he personally crafted, there's Malenia's hand and the sword intended to fully kill Godwyn. Also, if Radahn's condition for marriage was an honorable defeat in battle, why not just a duel without civilian and soldier casualties?

I think he was in love with Godwyn, and if we're riding headcanons then Godwyn already had a consort in Fortissax. The idea of tiny Miquella having a rivalry with this ancient dragon is very funny to me, like your toddler nephew saying he's going to steal your husband.

So, okay. He loves Godwyn, Godwyn doesn't love him back like that, but he still needs an Elden Lord. Plan B: everyone says Radahn almost the spitting image of Lord Godfrey, and he's a friendly guy. Barring all the murder. That works, he can just convince Radahn to tone it down and only murder when his god wills it. Easy.

So he gets Radahn to promise him his hand in marriage. Radahn... may or may not have actually taken Miquella seriously. Miquella is cursed to be an eternal child, and also his main interests are scholarship and healing. Radahn is a wizard, sure, but he uses his skills to crush the enemy and see them driven before him. So perhaps he takes it as a joke. Or maybe he even takes it seriously. Either way, he's not actually agreeing to anything unless Miquella is willing to meet him on the field of battle and prove his worth the way men do.

I don't think Radahn could marry anyone who couldn't punch his lights out and give him hell on the training grounds, you know? If anything, he might've started getting a crush on Malenia.

And then Radahn is too busy protecting Sellia to have time for games anymore.

The Shattering happens. Godwyn is killed. There were probably a few intervening weeks or months between the two, I think, but either way suddenly Godwyn is dead and that is intolerable, so Miquella gets to work saving the world- and his siblings- to the best of his ability. He's never done anything less.

And the idea festers. With Godwyn dead and Fortissax... gone, somewhere, wouldn't Godwyn be grateful to come back? Wouldn't he love him for it? Malenia loves him because he tries to heal her, right, but he's never had anything to offer Godwyn until now. If he gives him life, Godwyn will be his perfect lord. Easy. Radahn's preoccupation is a nonissue now.

But nothing works.

Miquella can't save his sister and he can't save Godwyn. He needs to be a god to do either of those things.

And Radahn is holding the heavens in place, which interferes with the resurrection ritual. So nevermind all of it- Radahn is a major issue.

And if he will not take Miquella seriously, if he will not fall in line for the good of mankind, then he will be compelled to.

So.

All of that? I can make it work. All of that I can stitch together. But I have no idea where Mohg would fit on the timeline, when they met, how long their affair was going on.

And furthermore, I feel like Mohg would have been eager to marry Miquella without any compulsion whatsoever. And if Miquella really wasn't a racist, as he styled himself, then I don't see any reason for him to object to an omen consort who's deeply concerned with the downtrodden of the Lands Between. Hells, it would send a good message to his followers that he really IS honest about accepting those rejected by grace.

He doesn't even have to actually be in love with him- we certainly aren't in love with Marika, when we become her Elden Lord.

The only solid reason I can think of to object to Mohg would be the fact that he's the chosen high priest of the Formless Mother. Miquella has a lifelong notable vendetta against outer gods, so maybe he wouldn't be willing to open up that particular avenue of "corruption". He must remain unalloyed to achieve what he wants. Maybe he's even got some sort of pity for people who genuinely follow an outer god like misguided lambs. I wonder what he thought of the Kindred of Rot, worshipping the thing killing his sister, begging her to be their divine mother.

Maybe, like a child, he thought they were flat out stupid. It'd be a cruel irony if Miquella dehumanized, infantilized and belittled people for worshipping gods. It's easy to steal the agency of people you think are fools- it's for their own good.

I'll have to think about him and Mohg awhile to fully develop an idea though.

[tyrantisterror]

While we’re on the subject of Dungeons & monsters, what are your top ten favorite D&D monsters & why?

I'm going to limit this to monsters that are either original creations of D&D or so divorced from their mythological roots that they might as well be original creations, or else this would just be me listing dragons. This is also in no particular order.

I'm gonna start with the Otyugh, because I think it's a result of D&D creating a very interesting ecosystem to justify its mechanics. You have all these artificial dungeons filled with different man-eating monsters, right? Well, what about the waste products they create? Carrion, yes, but also, you know... poop.

Well, you get Otyughs, a species that, depending on the setting, was either artificially engineered to take care of the waste products of a dungeon, or naturally evolved to clear out the waste of enormous megafauna predators like dragons. Is it mostly just an excuse to introduce yet another weird monster with a unique attack mechanic (say hello to sepsis and other infections, players)? Yeah, but it's a good excuse, it gets the imagination flowing.

I've actually played a lot more Pathfinder than D&D proper, and Pathfinder went out of its way to give Otyughs love by exploring all the aspects of their ecology that were only lightly outlined or implied in D&D, including the fact that they're technically intelligent enough to be capable of speech and reason - and thus, not necessarily a monster you have to deal with using violence alone. It really endeared me to them, to the point where Otyugh characters became something of a trademark of mine when running Pathfinder/D&D campaigns - and to the point where I ended up making up an expy of them for my own fantasy setting.

Bulettes are one of the coolest looking D&D monsters for my money, especially given that their modern designs take two inspiration from two very different animals - sharks and tortoises - and manage to combine them so beautifully to create something at once very cool and yet perfectly plausible as a "real" creature.

I love Rust Monsters for the same reason I love Otyughs - it's a monster that was made to showcase a game mechanic (namely, destroying players' weapons and armor, making sure they know how valuable those things are) and ends up creating a weird but plausible and interesting aspect of the ecology and world-building as a result. Also like Otyughs, they're very cute in a groady monster way.

Not every monster needs to have a big mind-blowing concept for me to be happy, though. Sometimes a creepy guy with a squid for a head who eats brains is enough. Mind Flayers are iconic and often imitated despite/because of being such a simple and easy to grasp concept.

Speaking of iconic monsters, Beholders feel like such an obvious cool concept that is shocking to me that they're more or less an original D&D creation - and it kind of sucks that they are, because a giant monster head with one main eye and several smaller eyes on stalks feels like it should be as ubiquitous in fiction as dragons and unicorns, and yet it can't be without paying Wizards of the Coast a shit-ton of royalties.

I will say that the lore D&D gave Beholders is pretty good, though - namely that each Beholder thinks it is the apex of their kind, and hates all other beholders for their perceived imperfections. Because beauty is in the eye of the beholder, you see. It's great, no notes, but beholders should belong to the people, not copyright holders.

I'm pretty sure Mimics originate from D&D, though I guess they just couldn't keep the idea of "a treasure chest that fucking eats you" from the people, since they appear in a lot of non-licensed stuff. As they should - man-eating treasure chests are another monster concept that should belong to the people.

I was talking about Froghemoths the other day on here but I want to reiterate that I love them despite/because of the fact that there really is no greater concept at play here than "what if there was a big fucking frog freak," and not once in the long history of this game has anyone decided there needed to be more at play than that. A big fucking frog freak is enough for all of us.

I just think this one looks neat.

D&D kobolds are in the category of "so far removed from its mythic roots that it's basically a new monster," and in that case the new monster is "scrabbly little dragon people with extreme anxiety," and I love that. Kobolds are my favorite humanoid species in D&D, and I'm glad 5th edition finally gave them a stat block that's actually playable, as opposed to previous edition's attempts, which made the prospect of being a kobold character the equivalent of having a public humiliation kink.

Finally, and also in the category of "technically named after a mythic monster it no longer resembles in almost any way," we have the Tarrasque, which went from a turtle/lion hybrid dragon in myth to a nigh-indestructible monster that's explicitly compared to natural disasters for its immense size, vast destructive power, and near inability to be harmed thanks to its armored hide and insane healing abilities. Or, in short, D&D lawyer friendly equivalent of Godzilla. How can I not love D&D Godzilla?