#yasha's spoken word

[radspeon]

[perpetualponydetention]

PPD #3: complex mathemaics

[conceiteddemon]

Im thinking about the M9 and languages. like languages and what is spoken and how it can add so many little extra layers to the story, and how they can be used to show insights into the characters. Cause like

Molly Viciously Mocking someone sounding like hacking up a demonic hairball, undermined by Jester always giggling in the background. Then suddenly Molly is gone and Jester is hugging her mother who is kissing her forehead and switching out from infernal to common every other sentence and the nein realizing that Molly was just telling dick jokes and playground insults in the scariest voice he could manage. Jester canonically writing her journal in infernal (which I hope to see in the series because fiendish hell runes written in a kawaii style compete with hot pink glitter gel is something I think everyone needs).

Nott telling a Halfling in Halfling that she ‘had an accident’, and it seems more likely to be a translation error on her end than the truth. Nott shouting at goblins that ambush the Nein in simple, halting Goblin, especially compared to the sentences they fire back at her. Nott knocking on Edith’s door, suddenly speaking Halfling fluently as she hugs a little boy no one had known about.

Beauregard’s high school level, clumsy Halfling and Dwarvish morphing into her reading undercommon, her understanding Zemnian, her studying books written in several different languages as the series goes on.

Fjord being able to read some orcish phrases but consistently messing up the pronunciation, because he basically taught himself, afraid of getting caught learning it but more scared of getting caught not knowing it.

Caleb’s whole interrogation with the scourger, his conversation with Astrid and the political side conversations, juxtaposed with the soft demeanor when he speaks to himself about his parents and the past in his tower. Him canonically dropping his heavier accent whenever he speaks Zemnian.

Yasha, never speaking Abyssal, only reading and translating it, as opposed to having little conversations in celestial when prompted by Caleb, who wants to brush up on his knowledge.

Caduceus speaking in what sounds like normal ass common to plants and animals. Him chatting amicably with giants, stopping every once in a while to ask if he’s pronouncing a word right.

Essek muttering to himself in undercommon as he studies, teaching everyone a few words to be polite. Getting bullied into sharing more by Beau, who had to learn it somewhere, and he acts like it’s a great inconvenience for about three minutes before getting swept up in the joy of sharing knowledge, of teaching and learning, taking concepts and thoughts and ordering them into something neat, precise, definable.

[late-to-the-party-81]

What's up, Buck?

AN: And another late answer to an ask! Hahahaha. Thank you for the thot, Em. He looks so grumpy here!

Unbeta'd ficlet ahoy!

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Avenger Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

CW: Antagonistic work colleagues to lovers, Grumpy Bucky, Canon typical violence, confessions of feelings, idiots in lust, kissing, implied future smut.

“What’s up, Buck?” You called out with a smile as you passed the metallic staring machine in the corridor. He didn’t answer you. He never did. Just flared his nostrils and kept on staring, while you kept on walking.

“What’s up, Buck?” You gave him a jovial shoulder bump as you found him in the communal lounge-slash-kitchen, holding a bowl of cheerios and milk in his left hand and shovelling it into his mouth with the spoon in his right. He scowled as some of the milk sloshed, but said nothing.

“What’s up, Buck?” You gave him a wave as you strode onto the quinjet, passing where he and Steve were sitting sorting out their equipment, as you followed Nat to the cockpit. He tossed his knife over and over in his hand, glaring at you, but as usual, stayed silent.

“Quit bugging him,” Nat chided.

“But he’s gotta answer me sometime. How many missions can we get through where he doesn’t even exchange a single word with me? I’m determined to get him to say something, even if it’s just ‘fuck off’ or ‘shut the fuck up’. It’s not normal, Nat.”

“Yasha isn’t normal, скворец. Who would be after everything he’s been through?

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right…it’s just that I get on with everyone, Natty. I don’t know why he’s so grumpy with me.”

“He just doesn’t know you yet. It’s gonna take him a while to warm up. If you haven’t noticed he doesn’t really talk to me much.”

“Aah, yes, but he does talk to you.”

“You just want him to notice you crushing on him. I see those eyes you make at him.”

You stuck out your tongue at her, but Nat just shook her head, put on her headset, and started her pre-flight checks. You sat back and tried not to ruminate on the intriguing, and very hot brunette super-soldier.

—----

You pulled your knife out of the chest of the goon you’d just downed and jogged down the corridor in front of you. 

“I’m on my way guys, wait for me to catch up…”

“Don’t worry, Starling. We won’t leave you behind.” You heard the smile in Steve’s voice over the comms and rolled your eyes to yourself. The daft nickname that Nat had given you, after she found you doing karaoke exactly once, had now been adopted by the rest of the team. Well, almost the rest of the team.

You saw a partially closed door ahead of you and pushed it open, coming face to face with Bucky’s rifle. You skidded to a halt and raised your hands in the air.

“Heeeeeeey! What’s up, Buck? Apart from your gun, that is.” You stuck out your index fingers and pressed it to the end of the barrel, pushing it away from you. Bucky glared. You tried not to notice how sexy he looked all battle dishevelled.

“Come on, man. Lighten up.”

“I almost shot you.” It took you a moment to decipher the growl he made and then another moment to process that he’d actually spoken to you. 

You grinned and made a theatrical stagger towards the closest wall, clutching a hand to your chest.

“Be still my beating heart! He speaks!”

Some of the tension went out of Bucky’s body and he lowered his rifle to point at the floor.

“Are you always so blasé?”

“Are you always so stoic?

He rolled his eyes and started to walk away from you down the corridor. You trotted behind him, trying to keep up with his long-legged stride, and turned off your comms transmitter.

“Is that why you don’t like me? You don’t think I take anything seriously?”

He stopped short and you almost ran into his back.

“I don’t ‘not like’ you.” He turned and looked you over.

“Could’ve fooled me, Sergeant Barnes. This is the first time you’ve ever spoken to me.”

“This is the first time you’ve said something that isn’t that ridiculous phrase.”

You pinched your nose, feeling a headache coming on.”

“You do realise that if you’d done anything other than just stare at me, all haughty and serious, I’d have expanded my vocabulary.”

“Maybe I didn’t know what to say. What was I supposed to say?”

“Anything, Bucky. I don’t know. Maybe ‘Nothing, just chilling’, or ‘the value of the Yen against the Dollar’. Anything. We could’ve been getting along all this time, you know.”

“Anything, Starling? What if what I wanted to say wasn’t appropriate?” He took a step towards you, backing you against the wall. His expression had changed. “What if I didn’t want to ‘get along’? What if I want something different? I’ve seen the way you look at me. I know what you want. Maybe we want the same thing?”

His eyes were dark and for some reason you were transfixed by the way his tongue popped out from between his lips.

“Umm. Erm. Is it warm in here? Just me? Maybe we should be going, you know, catch up with the others.”

“Don’t change the subject, not when we’re finally talking, скворец. You want to ask me, don’t you? You want to ask me that stupid question one more time to find out what I really want to say, don’t you?”

His breath was warm on your face, his eyes hypnotising you. He was standing so close his knee was almost slotted between your thighs. All you’d have to do would be to drop slightly and you could grind against it and…

“What… what’s up, Buck?” You barely recognised the croaky voice that came out of your throat.

Bucky’s right hand came up and cupped your face, thumb moving over your cheekbone and he dropped his head even closer.

“My blood, скворец, every time you talk to me. That’s what’s up. I want to kiss you to stop you saying it, and then carry on kissing you to find out what other things your lips will say…”

He moved his lower body closer, pressing his hips against you and heat suffused your skin at what you felt.

“And when you prance around in those tiny sleep shorts that barely cover your ass, guess what else is up?”

You drew a ragged breath into your lungs, feeling dizzy from the adrenaline coursing through your body.

“Do you understand now why I didn’t respond?”

The gap between you was infinitesimal. You were so close you were breathing the same air and at some point your hands had come up to rest on the leather of his tack jacket

“You should have said it, Buck. You should have said all those things, and we could have been doing this sooner.”

You closed the gap.

At the first touch of his lips against yours, both dry and chapped due the exertion of the mission, your eyelids closed allowing you to just feel. His mouth moved over yours, not softly, but not aggressively either, like he was trying to hold back. Your fingers curled into his jacket and the firm material creaked. You could smell leather, and gunpowder, and steel, and Bucky’s sweat. 

You wanted more. Wanted to drown in it. Drown in him. 

You wanted to run your tongue up his chest and taste him, you wanted to wind your fingers into his hair and clutch him to your breast, you wanted…

“Starling? Buck? Where are you guys? Did you stumble into some more trouble? We’re waiting for you at the jet.”

Steve’s voice burst in over the comms, pulling you both out of the moment. Bucky stepped back from you and pressed his finger to his ear.

“We’re here, Stevie. Don’t worry, be with you in a few minutes.”

You lent against the wall, and grabbed your water bottle, taking a healthy slug and giving yourself a few moments to collect yourself. 

“Come on, Starling. You heard the man. Let’s move out.”

You gave him a sharp nod and strode forward. You got a few steps in front of him when you felt Bucky grab you, his cool left hand feeling blissful against your heated skin.

“Oh, and our conversation isn’t over, doll. Not by a long shot.”

You gave him a coy smile.

“Your room or mine?”

Tag list: @christywantspizza @jobean12-blog @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky @tuiccim @yarnforbrains @sidepartskinnyjeans @flordeamatista @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @ohsymphony @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @seitmai @talia-rumlow @poppunksnowwhite

[aspiringsophrosyne]

A Sailor And a Gentleman: Critical Role Campaign 2 And The Misguided Urge to Run.

I'm planning on some in-depth Campaign 2 talk in anticipation of the animated series, but you can only do it in pieces.

Because Campaign 2 of Critical Role, three quarters by accident and a quarter by design, is a beautifully and surprisingly thematically consistent story.

For now, let's look at one of the themes that comes up consistently throughout the Mighty Nein's story that's easy to miss. And that is members of the Nein being tempted to or preparing to run from the group despite either wanting to stay or it being worse for them if they leave.

Spoilers for all of Campaign 2 abound.

Yasha

Now, Yasha is a unique case; she was absent so often mainly due to Ashley's regrettably inconsistent presence at the table. However, intentions are not the focus here. Today we're talking about results. And honestly, how amazing the results became, all considering.

Intentional or not, the theme is more prevalent for Yasha than for some of the others. Before the confrontation at the Cathedral, Yasha flits in and out of the Nein's adventure. She leaves. She comes back. She leaves again. And we can infer that she was also like this when she was with the circus. Molly certainly never seems surprised when she disappears or reappears. But when she's consistently a part of the group, her past is finally confronted and eventually overcome, to the point where she can ultimately start to heal from it. And even fall in love again. 

Caleb

In Caleb's story, this is as prevalent a theme as it is in Yasha's, if not more so. Hobo wizard's ready to run from almost the word go. And given his backstory, that's not surprising. Liam makes it obvious for us at home; shortly before the battle of Glory Run changes everything, Caleb spends his watch talking to himself, trying to psych himself up to leave. Telling himself that no one in the group can help him, and even if opening up to Beau and Nott wasn't a mistake, it won't do anything for him in the long run.

Caleb ultimately decides to stay. Not only that, but it's in traveling with the Nein that he begins to heal, to do good, and to walk towards a kind of redemption. By the end of the story, Caleb is one of the fiercest advocates for the Nein, for the love they have found between themselves, and for their finally becoming nine. And even if it came from a place of practicality (Liam has spoken on Talks Machina about the moment Caleb shared with Essek where the latter was revealed to be a traitor as, if nothing else, an effort to keep a lid on anything that would interfere with the peace talks the Nein were trying to facilitate) Caleb's compassion for Essek inspired him to become a better man than he had been. Which directly leads to his assisting the Nein in saving Exandria.

Beau

In contrast, Beau is less flighty than either Yasha or Caleb and is notably one of the biggest supporters of staying together from the get-go. Her stubborn and unwavering conviction in rescuing Jester, Fjord, and Yasha, alongside her honest and touching eulogy for Mollymauk, goes a long way toward rallying the group to its reunification. She's notable in that, despite her prickly and near-constant cynical attitude, she was one of the few members of the Nein who seemed to enjoy being a part of the group from the start.

Then came her (to quote Matt) asshole dad. And Isharnei.

Even before any other options were brought up with her or considered, Beau offered to walk away from the Nein. She offered to give up the place where she finally felt loved and appreciated: where Beau felt like she belonged. And she did this partially (as Beau makes clear later and Marisha talks about between episodes) because she expected to eventually lose it. Nothing good could last. Because for her, nothing good ever had.

Nott

This is a less obvious and clear-cut case because Nott's abandoning her family was less of a willing choice. She didn't want to leave and always planned to return to her family. Just, hopefully, as herself.

That said, until the Nein were called upon to rescue her husband, Nott was planning to keep her distance. To limit her direct contact with her family for fear of drawing danger to them or being rejected by them. 

Only to discover that her family would've accepted her as she was.

Fjord

Travis has said on the Wrap Up and Talks that Fjord would repeatedly consider running off and unlocking those seals or if Avantika had gotten away with the Cloven Crystal, split from the group to chase after her. Interestingly enough, if he had left for either of those reasons, he would've been the second sailor who left a Lavorre woman named after a corundum, to both his and her detriment. 

Molly

Taliesin has said on Talks that Molly had considered robbing everybody and making a break for it. He was a carnie swindler, after all.

(Although it's interesting to consider deeper character reasons for this. See also: Kingsley stealing a ship the Nein totally would've given him and sailing off into the sunset.) 

And it's not just the Nein. Let's look at Beau's and Jester's dads.

The Gentleman

Jester's father fell in love with the famed Ruby of the Sea and considered himself not good enough for her. To remedy that, he left her, hoping to make himself a better man on the sea. To eventually return, worthy of her affections.

That is, tragically, not how things worked out.

And while Jester's mother and father have reunited and reconciled, it would've saved Jester and her parents a lot of heartache and time if Babenon Dosal had stayed despite his misgivings. If he had, he would've escaped the life of the Gentleman. And not only that, he would've been loved by two damn fine women. He would've gotten to raise his daughter.

Thoreau Lionett

Beau's father's story is eerily similar. Instead of courting Beau's mother as he was, in order to secure her love, he went to Isharnei to seek guidance. And yes, she gave him advice that made him his fortune. But she left him with a prophecy that would lead to years of misery for the rest of his family. If not for him as well. So much of the Lionett family's unhappiness could've been avoided had Thoreau pursued Clara regardless of his status or finances.

And you can even make an argument for Caduceus' family.

The Clays

You could say the Clays' leaving to restore the wood (or at least the way they went about it; individually or in pairs) was a bad idea. Not only did it prove fruitless in the intervening years, and not only did it put them in a position where they could've been destroyed beyond hope of revival, but it left Cad on his own for a decade, with no way of getting help for them or for himself. 

These are just examples off the top of my head, but taking all this together, you could argue that one incidental moral of the Mighty Nein's story is: don't try to handle your trauma alone. Don't try to handle your burdens all by yourself. Don't run off because you think you don't deserve help, you do. People are better and can be better when they work together.

And also the Critical Role table is better when everybody is sitting at it playing together.

[avinryd]

Cat's Cradle

Author: AvinRyd Fandom: Critical Role Rating: T Pairing: Mollymauk Tealeaf & Yasha, Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast Word Count: ~1,650 Series: Shards and Spells

"...first time I've been glad Molly wasn't there."

- @caitmayart

--

Saw Cait's fanart (x) and it broke me into little pieces. I put those back together into this.

Read on AO3

On any other night, the soft riffle of worn parchment shuffling would be comforting, meditative work in Mollymauk’s hands. On any other night, there would be a blood-deep satisfaction in the near-inaudible sound of cards placed on threadbare fabric. On any other night, the glow of moonlight would light his spread and sing in his veins and there would be the humming feeling of not only Sehanine’s gentle presence, but a hint of mischievous spark from Jester’s Traveler and, underneath his incense and the floral warmth of the Wildmother, the sharp scent of ozone. Yasha’s Stormlord.

On any other night. But not tonight. Because Yasha is...Yasha is— 

Footsteps on the stairs of the Ready Room—ascending, growing louder, stopping on the landing.

“If we’re not discussing how to get her back, I’m not coming downstairs.” Molly says flatly, not looking up from his cards.

“I am not here to fetch you back, Mollymauk.”

Caleb. Soft-spoken, level-headed, absolutely fucking calm Caleb. How can he sound so gods-damned calm? How can all of them be so cold to just walk away and let that door close and— 

His mental tirade is interrupted by movement in his periphery. Just off the edge of his tarot cloth, one of Caduces’s wooden bowls slides into view. It’s full of a creamy stew of some sort, dinged iron spoon leaning against the edge, being held by a bandaged hand. It’s followed shortly by a chipped ceramic mug of steaming liquid, borne by a matching other hand. Molly looks up to see Caleb crouched across from him, fancy new coat pooled on the gritty wood floor and not meeting his eyes.

“You need to eat. You’re no good to her wasted away to nothing.”

Molly scoffs. “I’m no good to her stuck here either! Miles and a mountain and a half away, sitting in a fucking military storehouse when I should still be in there, still—” 

“Still what, Mollymauk? You wouldn’t still be anything. You would be stabbed through by another gods-verdammt oversized blade and by the time your neat little trick got around to bringing you back, there would be more time wasted than we are using right now.”

Caleb isn’t so soft-spoken, isn’t so calm now. His voice is low, but it’s tense and rough and he’s meeting Molly’s gaze now—deep purple bruising under his eyes and brows furrowed in consternation as he pins Molly with a hard look and it stops his mind short. This Caleb is familiar, for all Molly never actually got to meet him. This is the Caleb that rode up the Glory Run Road, dragging broken friends and compatriots away from a fresh grave to rescue the ones yet living. 

Molly swallows the spitting retort that’s fast dying on his devil’s tongue and carefully returns the cards to his deck, inverse of how they’d been placed and rolls up the cloth, sets them both aside and reaches for the bowl.

He eats in silence. Caleb shifts, sits against the bunk that hides Molly’s corner from the rest of the large room and pulls out a loop of silver thread to fiddle with. Moonlight catches in the threads and Molly recognizes the geometric patterns.

“No Molly, if you do it that way—see? You’ve got it tangled now.”

Molly made a face at the snarls of string binding up his wrists and fingers. Yasha only laughed softly and reached to pick apart the knots.

“Where did you even learn this? Practice for building snares in the Xorhassian wastes?”

“Jester taught me while we were at sea. It was a long journey and you run out of things to do on a ship, eventually.”

There was a waft of sea-salt tang rising from the string, nearly masked by the scent of dry parchment and flowers that clung to everything stored in Yasha’s belt-pouch. He wiggled his fingers gleefully once Yasha freed them, then looped the string around once more.

“Alright. Show me again.”

Molly sets the empty bowl aside—when had he finished it? Must have been hungrier than he thought—and scoots over across from Caleb. The wizard has reached a point in the pattern where he can’t move further. Wordless, Molly reaches in and deftly moves the strings, pulls them off Caleb’s hands and into the next pattern, then holds it out.

Their eyes meet in a quick glance, all that Caleb allows, then burn-scarred fingers reach across to pluck at the web spanned between Molly’s hands; gingerly pinching strings together, then looping them around and pulling back. Another familiar pattern. Molly follows along, and so they go, the silence stretching on and growing more comfortable as it does. Comfortable, but it’s not enough to soothe the agitation still simmering in Molly’s blood.

The emotions still boil up in him, horror and fear and anguish that steam out as anger at the situation, anger at his friends, their hesitance, their—

Caleb nudges Molly’s elbow with his own. Their hands are suddenly knotted together—Molly’s hands having spasmed and yanked the careful magic out of true, tangling the thread. Shit. Fuck. Gods damn it all, can't even get a simple children’s game right, let alone anything more useful. He doesn’t move as Caleb slips his own fingers free and starts untangling the thread. Still quiet, movements slow and purposeful and fucking hells below.

“How are you all so calm about this?” He doesn’t shout. He doesn’t.

There is a long moment of silence, Caleb slipping the last knots from the thread and winding it carefully before replying, “Everyone is in shock, Mollymauk. Do not mistake it for apathy.”

“Bullshit. If any of you gave a—” Caleb doesn’t let him finish, talks over him.

“Beauregard hasn’t said a single word since your shouting match three hours and twenty-seven minutes ago. Jester started crying halfway through that argument and hasn’t stopped. Caduceus burned the stew and oversteeped three separate pots of tea. Nott has done nothing but drink since we got back and Fjord has let his accent slip at least four times in that span.”

“And you?” Molly is still stuck on their firebrand wizard and his icy calm all through the ride back to Bazzoxan—stuck and enraged, if he’s honest with himself. 

Caleb laughs, dry as dust. “Well.” 

He holds out his right hand for inspection and Molly takes in what he hadn’t noticed earlier. The bandages on the outer blade of his hand are scorched brown, black at the edges, and there are red smears in the palm mirrored by the rusty brown caked under burned short nails. Unthinking, he reaches out to cradle it in his own two as Caleb continues,

“Nott told me to find something to do with myself before the proprietor noticed I was burning a hole in their table. So I brought you food.”

The hand in Molly’s grasp is shaking, as if only just being held back from clenching into a fist once more. Molly has to take a moment, has to sit with what Caleb’s just told him. He wants to stay angry, wants it more than anything, because if he’s angry then nothing else can get to him—if he’s angry, the rest of the awful, awful things...

Ah, too late. 

Their game of Cat’s Cradle had brought him and Caleb knee-to-knee, so it’s not far to go when Molly slumps forward to knock his head into Caleb’s shoulder. Months and months ago, back when they’d all first met, the Caleb Molly had known would have jerked back on instinct. The Caleb Molly had known wouldn’t have let his hand be held so tenderly either, or played a silly string game with him in grief-stricken silence. This Caleb has done all those things, and more—twisting his hand just enough to clasp around Molly’s forearm in a firm hold.

“I hate this.” Molly says to their laps, forehead pressed into the shoulder seam of Caleb’s fancy new coat. “Is this what it felt like? When I… When I was gone?”

“Nein,” Caleb replies, harsh and certain. Molly jerks upright at the tone.

“How?”

Caleb’s frown deepens. “You were dead, Mollymauk. You were dead and you were gone and we mourned you.” His hand tightens on Molly’s arm. “Yasha is not. She is alive, and we may not be strong enough yet, but we will get her back. I don’t— I’m not sure how we can, but we will, Molly. I swear it.”

Caleb’s free hand has lifted to rub at his face and Molly sees a smear of crimson when it comes away—a cut on his jaw that should have been healed many cleric spells ago. There’s dried blood crusted under the nails of that hand as well. Had he picked open that shaving nick over the course of the night?

There’s a hard lump in Molly’s throat that he tries to swallow past, but can’t. It blocks all his words except the few syllables he needs to send up to the Moonweaver as he reaches out to touch Caleb’s jaw. The silver crescent charm on his horn chimes softly as it spins and hits keratin, and a sparkle of divine blue light dances in the blue of Caleb’s eyes as Molly draws on the absolute last of his strength to seal up the tiny cut. He doesn’t move his hand after—keeps it there to feel the subtle movement of Caleb adjusting his jaw, relaxing clenched teeth.

It’s not far to go when their foreheads press together, made shorter by Caleb leaning in to meet him halfway. Molly lets his hand drop to fall atop Caleb’s wrapped ones in their laps, closes his eyes and tries to just breathe—he feels like he hasn’t properly since that door closed. 

It hurts. It’s going to hurt for a good long while yet, he reckons. But it’ll hurt a damn sight less once they’ve got Yasha back.

[oldflyingraven]

FlyingRaven’s fic recommendations!

I don’t see these lists too often so I decided to make one! These are some of my favorite fics/series!

Hermitcraft

When This World Is No More (The Moon is All We'll See) by Silverskye13 Fic about the Hermits dealing with the end of the world by moon falling. Mainly from Cleo and Joe’s perspective but all the Hermits show up. 

Built Family by Oceanera12 An AMAZING found family fic about how each Hermit found Hermitcraft. A lot of the characters are magical/mythical/hybrids. 

EXPERIMENT 76844537: SUBJECT 47426 by HaloRocks1214 Fluffy fic where Zedaph asks Grian to hug all the Hermits as an experiment. 

Anything To Hear You (Say It One More Time) by mgrnn Etho angst! He gets heavily injured and calls Bdubs to hear his voice one more time. Bdubs won’t let that happen though.

Home at Last by Wimberly_snoot A good Dream SMP and Hermitcraft crossover. Tommy finds himself in Hermitcraft. 

Healing Is a Four Letter Word and it’s sequel The Aftershocks of Divinity by Hypno_Cat Watcher Grian escapes and crashes into Hermitcraft. Stories follow him healing. Read tags for relationships since I don’t want to spoiler.

Bubbles bursting by Higgystar Autistic Bdubs! A very good story. 

don’t let me see what i am, cause i can’t stand it by mayflowers07( @mayflowers07 )  Non binary Iskall dealing with transphobia. Yeah I just love this fic. 

The i can be the one you call series by mayflowers07( @mayflowers07 ) Series where the Hermits have a code phrase which is spoken when something goes truly wrong. A lot of good angst and hurt/comfort.

bird song by Penmonition and Phantom_Pen (The_Winged_Warrior)  Hands down my favorite Grian backstory fic. A deep dive into his time with the Watchers. 

Dream SMP

The Stone Steals My Voice by Aimandfire ( @aimandfire21 ) One of my favorite Eret angst fics. Eret gets kidnapped by Dream and is forced to stay in the cell made for Skeppy. 

eret whump by DeadlyHuggles Literally what it says in the title lol. Eret gets punished by Dream. 

Mellow High by an orphaned account  Soulmate AU, Ranboo centric. Sadly seems to be abandoned but still very enjoyable. 

Wrecking Ball by Anonymous Eret angst. Read the tags for content warning because it gets pretty heavy. 

Eret angst for all of you angst-lovers out there(I know you are one don't deny it) by NightmareoftheCabin First of all the title is an attack on me lmao. But yeah Eret in the prison being rescued by Techno. 

Critical role

Ghost Notes by tfm ( @thefriendlymurderer )  Modern fic where Beau joins a high school rockband where she becomes friends with the rest of the M9

The our lives were never ours series by viviolet Hands down my favorite Hunger Games AU ever. M9 as Hunger Games victors. Mainly Cadeusus centric but also Yasha centric. 

AFK: a critrole MMO AU by Shippeh Slow burn Percy x Vex. Modern MMO AU. 

[ato-catto]

RADITZ X HELLREADER

(I've given you the name Yasha- just because I don't like typing Y/N over and over- please forgive me <_< also this will be on AO3 later this week.)

SMUT, 18+ /MASTURBATION/ KISSING

Part 1

Yeah.

Hell sucked.

Keeping his body was an extra perk, but in all honesty, it hadn't made anything better for Raditz. Big empty fields of nothing and dry rotting trees graced The landscape before him. The idea of making friends was out of reach- he was never a sociable person. Vegeta had beaten any of the social butterfly Gines DNA had given him out with excessive bullying of his character. And now, after being defeated by a NAMEKIAN, he wasn't about to go and share his entire life story, or even name with any individual in this hell hole. Word seemed to spread quickly around here, and he didn't need people knowing how much of a pussy he had been. He didn't need to be bullied in the after life AS WELL.

Raditz put up camp by a tree, shedding his now unnecessary armour. What a worthless life he had lived, he thought. How entirely pointless his existence had been, especially being a lackey almost his entire life after Planet Vegeta had been destroyed. He slouched slightly and mumbled cursewords to himself under his breath, a sickening feeling growing in his stomach. Kakarot- He was dead too. But he certainly wasn't here. The goody goody was probably in some form of heaven, having the time of his life. The thought irritated him.

Weeks passed, feeling like mere days with Raditz barely eating or sleeping. Night, hunger and exhaustion were not things your body needed or craved in the afterlife, and it gave way to a very boring existence. He took up his time punching the air, throwing ki blasts at the tree he had taken up camp by. He rarely saw anyone else. On the odd occasion there would be a wandering soul or Hell Attendant, but that was all. Until that after noon, that was.

She was a Saiyan, that much was clear. Her tail coiled around her middle, her hair dark and spiked like his own. He gave her a cryptic look and stood straighter. He towered above her- but not by as much as he would have previously thought. The Saiyan woman gave him a slight smirk.

"Another Saiyan, huh? No surprises there. We all belong in hell." She said, eyeing up his stature and figure. "Nice hair. Impressive."

Raditz was slightly dumbstruck. He hadnt spoken to another person in weeks, and certainly not a female. She had a well rounded chest and hips too- he wandered if you still had certain... needs after being dead.

"Thank you?" He said, the world's tumbling off of his tongue in a clumsy manner.

The womans smirk spread wider. "Aha."

Raditz gave her a quick and polite once over, before a frown settled on his face. "So did you die in the explosion on Planet Vegeta?"

The woman shook her head. "No. But I am sorry to hear of that. What a waste."

Raditz cocked his head. "Yeah-" he didn't entirely care. But he was curious. He had never seen her type of armour before. It was definetly Saiyan- but not from a period he knew of. "What did you die of, then?"

"Another Saiyan." She grinned. "We were at war with eachother before your generation somehow managed to get enslaved."

Raditz sneered. "I would rather be enslaved than killed by my own people."

The woman tousled her hair, completely unphased. "Mm. Of course you would. Word has it that you were Prince Vegeta the fourths little lackey- but you aren't little at all."

Raditz was thrown through a loop at this insult/compliment. "What? How did you-"

She laughed. "I know your father."

"Father is here..?" Raditz eyes went wide.

"He is." She watched his face contort through a series of emotions. Raditz decided he would push for details- Bardock would most likely be ashamed of his behaviour.

"Back to my question. Who are you?" He crossed his arms defensively over his bare chest.

"Yasha." She stuck a hand out. "Nice to meet you."

"Yasha-" He repeated, not accepting her hand shake.

She scowled slightly and returned her arm to her side. "Yeah. From before the Vegetas were even royalty. I was part of the war against the kindhearted on our planet Sadala."

Raditz was taken aback slightly. Looking at her, he had presumed she was one of the kindhearted. She had a soft face and gentle features- until she scowled. "Ah. I see."

"The first woman to achieve the art of Super Saiyan."

Raditz tail twitched. "Super....Saiyan?"

Yasha nodded. "Mhm."

"That's real!?"

She nodded again. "Do you want to see?" She couldn't resist a little showing off. After all, she had been stuck here for hundreds of years in her 27 year old body.

Raditz nodded vehemently, stepping back cautiously. He had only heard of the immense power a Super Saiyan could hold.

Yasha took a stand with her feet apart, her fists raised and clenched. She began to power up, her yells shrill and piercing. Raditz flinched, shielding his eyes from the bright yellow light that dawned from the woman's body, turning her hair an almost white shade of blonde. Her tail too had joined her in this spontaneous colour change, whipping around as she grinned with pride from inside her aura.

Raditz breath was hitched in his chest, his amazement freezing him in place. He was in total awe, at both the transformation and display of power.

"You...you changed-" he spluttered, his heart still pounding in his ears.

Yasha laughed. "I would hope so. That's part of become a Super Saiyan."

"Would... would you teach me to do that?" He gasped, kneeling at her feet as if she were some sort of idol or god. She gave him a confused look.

"If you want. I don't have anything better to do. Doesn't mean you'll ever achieve it, though. Bare that in mind."

...

Weeks passed. Weeks turned to months. Raditz was become more powerful by the day but still could not reach the level of a Super Saiyan, or transform. It didnt make any sense.

"This is ridiculous!" He panted, leaning on his knees as sweat dripped from his nose. "I'm pushing the limits of my very being and I'm still not even close!"

Yasha laughed, and powered down from their latest sparring session. "I did warn you."

"You did." He affirmed, wiping his face on the back of his hand. "I was a fool to even try."

Yasha had grown accustomed to his self pitying, self bullying ways. She rolled her eyes. "You don't know if you don't try."

Raditz grinned. He too had become used to Yashas all knowing wise words. "You said that last week."

"You complained in the exact same way last week." She shrugged, walking over to brush hairs from his cheek that had stuck to his sweat.

"You ought to tie this up when fighting." She commented.

He could feel her breath on his cheek, she was so close. His gut flip flopped, his eyes travelling down to her chest. Her armour was made for a woman- it shower off the good parts. She looked both strong and feminine and it had been rising the poor man up for weeks. Her cleavage heaved as she took breaths, her hip cocked as she inspecting his face and hair. He was snapped out of it when she suddenly rooted a hairband from her pocket and scooted round to attempt tying his hair.

"Hey! Leave my hair alone! I like it down!" He protested.

She ignored him, successfully twisting his long mane into a pony tail. "See? Much better."

He shook his head, feeling the weight of the hair be seemingly taken off his shoulders. It did feel.... better. He grumbled a thank you and crossed his arms. Yasha shook her head. "Ready to go again?"

...

Raditz hated it when she somehow got him pinned. She was barely half his weight yet she could keep him on the ground with one arm tied behind her back, literally.

Yasha taunted his as he laid beneath her, a sliver of blood trailing from his mouth where he had bitten his tongue in the impact. "Sh-shut up!" He growled.

Yasha felt his energy spike. She grinned. "Make me."

Raditz thrashed, grabbing her thigh with his tail in am attempt to throw her off. He failed, again. "This isn't fair!"

Yasha smiled sweetly. "Try and use another method. Use your cunning."

Raditz pursed his lips and thought for a moment, still straining slightly against her grip. His cunning? He could be cunning and conniving, and even smart. But right now nothing seemed like it would work.

"Look over there!" He yelled.

"That won't work." She sighed, pushing him down harder as a sick form of punishment. He winced and tensed, his dark eyes connecting with her glowing green ones, then travelling down to her smirking lips.

That was it! The number one thing to throw her off guard was-

He darted closer and kissed her on the mouth, her smirk being replaced with a hated but surprised look. He pulled away, taking the opportunity to throw her aside. She hit the tree with a thud. That was the first hit he had EVER gotten on her. He grinned.

Yasha stood. "That's playing dirty!" She complained, wiping her mouth as if she had eaten something disgusting.

Raditz laughed and resumed a fighting stance. "You said to use my cunning, and I did."

She gave him a sour look. "Disgusting." She spat, before launching at him with a look of fury.

Hell hath no fury like a woman kissed without permission-

Raditz was very very glad he could not die a second death, but Yasha made him wish he could. She pummelled him with angry fists and ki blasts full of anger. "ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTING!" She reiterated, roaring in rage. Raditz flew away with a cheeky grin, trying to block and evade to no avail. "I'm sorry!" He wailed, being beaten into a cliffside, the rocks around him crackling and falling away with the impact of his body.

She pulled one last punch and stopped, her hand pressed against his throat, holding his against the rocks. "Dumb ass!" She snapped, tiptoeing up to return the favour he had given to her.. but far softer and more calculated. Her kiss melted the pain from his body and settled a warmth in his stomach. She pulled back for a moment.

"Ha~ wha~?" Raditz began, his eyes lidded and eyebrows raised.

She sighed in frustration and kissed him again, this time letting her hands rest on his burly chest. Raditz was lost in a fog of need, his Saiyan instincts taking over. His hands found her waist, settling on the dips on her hips as he deepened the kiss to another more passionate level.

He hadn't kissed a girl since he was a teenager. Being a pillaged and soldier didn't give time for such leisurely things. But he had had plenty of sex- he just hadn't romance those women. They were cheap off world hookers often present at the Princes birthday.

Yashas tail brushed his bulge, then wrapped around his thigh, leaving his lower body tingling. He pulled back to breathe, strings of hot saliva still keeping them attached. Her tongue was soft and pink, slightly poking from her mouth as she panted for air, gazing up at him with a dazed look. Raditz purred inwardly, darting back for more- and then she punched him. Hard in the gut. Hard enough to have him cough blood and keel over.

"That's what you get!" Grinned Yasha, an evil look passing behind her previously glazed eyes. "Don't EVER jilt a woman like that."

Raditz groaned, nursing both his ruptured organs and a stiff boner. "I'm.. sOrRy-"

...

Raditz waddled to his bed that night, within the carved casm he had created in the giant wilting tree. 'Typical Saiyan Women', he thought.' Playing hard to get.'

He settled in his bed, stripping to his boxers and shifting beneath the covers.

SMUT AHEAD. 18+ ONLY PLEASE!

He grumbled as he adjusted himself under the cotton shorts, his balls aching from the encounter earlier that day. His stomach had healed, but his ego and neediness had NOT. He fished his length out from under the waist band and began stroking it to ease some tension that had balled up in his gut.

"Stupid woman." He scowled, before his head fell back. He started pumping at a good pace, thinking of the hot kisses they had shared. He pictured her beneath him, whimpering and begging him to go faster, harder.

Raditz groaned as he picked up speed, his hips twitching in unison to catch more friction. His tail looped around his balls, giving him the sensation of a lifetime. "Yasha~" He murmered, before coating his stomach with his own seed.

Then he turned red. "Oh. Gross-"

SMUT END.

He clambered back into bed after a well deserved shower and turned on his side, closing his eyes. He could see images of golden hair and yellow sparks in his eyelids. "Damnit.."

[inukag-on-ao3]

The Bonds of Magic

by Kawaiichan67

UPDATE! CHAPTER 9 NOW AVAILABLE HERE!

Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: F/M

Fandoms: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale

Relationships: Higurashi Kagome/InuYasha

Characters: Higurashi Kagome, InuYasha (InuYasha), Miroku (InuYasha), Suikotsu (InuYasha), Jakotsu (InuYasha), plus 2 more

Additional Tags: Inu Yasha Reverse Bang, Alternate Universe - Magic

Summary: Higurashi Kagome is a powerhouse of a Miko, spoken of, but rarely seen. On assignment she meets a rare magic user, whose skills rival her own. Together, they must defeat a fearsome band of marauding killers.

Words: 12,336 | Chapters: 9/9 | Language: English | Private: Yes

[spottedenchants]

WIP Wednesday

something very silly, coming soon to an ao3 near you :3

(related in spirit to this WIP)

-

Caleb already was listening, and now, very intently at that.

…“with brinjal, yuyo, mushroom- really, all manner of additions”…

Watching too, of course, as Essek distractedly slides an idle, thoughtful finger back and forth across his pretty mouth while detailing the subject matter of the, frankly, presently, less interesting recipe catalogue he must have borrowed from Yasha between their stints in the Archive kitchen.

…“might try without the pastry entirely, just the filling- and without cream, though that has a different name from”-

But Caleb is listening, first and foremost.

There are times in which Essek’s innate tone gains a fetching rasp and his voice dips a little bit deeper, taking up an untranslatable richness that Caleb recognizes well enough by both personal and communal experience. Enumerated, though far from an exhaustive list, these instances include: when Essek is in need of rest, when he’s just completed it, when he is pleasured, when he is pleased, and when—pertinent to this particular moment and among Caleb’s favorite circumstances overall—a word outside Undercommon fits his noble Rosohnan tongue as though his eyes have served as his ears for as long as he’s had need to say it.

Essek is well-read, yes. Well-spoken, too.

Even still, he doesn’t have the sound quite right on ‘quiche’.

[goldenrose101]

Critical Role: Final Words

Updated as of 9/15/2022, spoilers up to C3E34.

So given RECENT EVENTS, I thought it would be interesting to make a record of the "last words" of each Critical Role PC before their respective deaths, regardless of whether or not they were rezzed later on.

Obviously your mileage may vary here, since it can be hard to parse out what's said in and out of character, and it's possible I missed things as I was reading through the transcripts.

I'm only focusing on the main game here, as a note, so no Calamity.

Big thanks to https://kryogenix.org/crsearch/ for making searches a lot easier.

If there are words in brackets, that means those could also be final words, but I'm not sure if they count.

So let's get started! (Spoilers below!)

Grog's Death, C1E11, 3:33:33: Scanlan: Grog are you okay? Grog: Yeah. (scoffs) But a tickle. [No one told me he had a lightsaber.]

Vex's Death, C1E44, 4:21:10: Vex: I'm trying to-- Brother, I'm going to go look at the stuff that they're finding, okay? Be safe!

[Later on, she also said "All good, Kima!"]

Grog's Death, C1E50, 28:36: Grog: Yeah, I would not turn down some delicious boar.

Percy's Death, C1E68, 3:52:20: Percy: No matter what today, I forgive you, but I cannot let you leave.

Vex's Death, C1E80, 1:46:45: Vex: You don't got no wings anymore. Vax: She dead? Vex: No.

Scanlan's Death, C1E80, 1:54:22: Pike: Oh, sorry, Scanlan, I didn't see you there. Scanlan: Well, I'm behind a dragon, honey, it's okay.

Scanlan's Death, C1E83, 2:11:00: Scanlan: You so dumb, when thieves stole your horse, you chased them down and said, "You forgot the saddle!"

Percy's Death, C1E83, 1:27:19: Percy: She's down and vulnerable! Raishan: Not as down and not as vulnerable as you think. Percy: Oh, shit.

Vax's Death, C1E88, 4:22:00: Vax: [to Vex after she frees him from a Kraken tentacle] Love you!

Keyleth's Death, C1E97, 14:59: Keyleth: We're gods! [Marisha may have said this out of character, but Vex then said she heard Keyleth say this at 28:35, so it's canon now.]

Vex's Death, C1E102, 2:28:15: Vecna: Come, and be the next sacrifice for the new age. Vex: You're a dipshit!

Vax's Death, C1E102, 2:19:23: Vax: No one walks away. [Alternatively: Vex: *rolls a nat 20 on a con save* Vax: *unintelligible yells*]

Vax's Death, C1E112, 3:44:23: Vax: All right, fucknut, let's do this.

Vax's Death, C1E115, 1:40:12: Vax: How lucky I have been to have had all of you. How lucky, indeed. Thank you.

Vex's Death, C1 "Dalen's Closet," 2:03:50: Sylas: I've been thinking about this moment for so long, I planned so many elaborate ways to torture you and tear you apart and-- Vex: Tell us about them.

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

Molly's Death, C2E26, 3:57:23: Molly: [to Keg about an enemy] You got that one? [Alternatively: Molly: *spitting with blood*]

Caduceus's Death, C2E55, 58:30: Caduceus: Are we moving? [Unsure about this one since Tal doesn't RP talk a ton during combat, so this is from even BEFORE the break.]

Nott's Death, C2E83, 3:11:39: Nott: Teach me how to read and write. Just kidding, I'm very smart.

Fjord's Death, C2E98, 3:13:10: Fjord: Intruders!

Yasha's Death, C1E30, 4:03:00: Yasha: I am your champion. [This actually occurred in the episode BEFORE her death, which was episode 131. We're counting this since it was said before she failed her last death save, even though she was technically still up and moving.]

Jester's Death, C2E140, 2:22:55: Jester: Arty!

Caleb's Death, C2E140, 2:37:57: Caleb: You're killing her, you're killing her, you love her, you're killing her!

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

Bertrand's Death, C3E3, 4:08:02: Bertrand: Lieve'tel...

Orym's Death, C3E33, 3:14:45: Otohan: We've met before. Orym: Yeah.

Fearne's Death, C3E33, 3:32:15: Fearne: Boy... that was a hell of a run.

Laudna’s Death, C3E33, 3:29:19:

Laudna: We’ve seen the leylines. I know where they’re converging.

[Another instance of last words spoken the episode BEFORE she actually died.]

[radspeon]

people who know asl/any kind of sign language: does sign language have 'filler' words? like how when people are thinking about what they're going to say next, they'll go 'umm'? is there an equivalent in sign?

[romeoandjulietyouwish]

Sitting Between Seconds:

Mollymauk and Lucien talk with each other as the latter dies deep down in Cognouza.

this for the one shot request.

Mollymauk has been watching for a long time. 

He’s not exactly a separate person, more just a…fragment inside a fractured mind. He watched his friends be beaten and bloody, he heard words coming out of the mouth that used to be his. And he heard his friends call out to him, and it worked, they coaxed him forward, just enough to protect them with what little control he has over this body. 

And he watches the final blow be dealt to himself. No, not himself. The monster who’s body he had taken for but a few short months. Lucien. A rather ugly name, he thinks. Mollymauk is much better if he says so himself. 

He’s dying, Lucien is at least. Mollymauk has been dead for a while, just a passenger for this latest romp. Nothing more than a bit of mud stuck to one’s shoe. He can feel the body taking shuddering breaths, he can feel the flesh beneath them. 

And for the first time in far too long, Mollymauk finds the strength to speak to this person that has carried him for so long, “Lucien, is it?”

There’s a long pause before the words echo back around him, with an added, “Mollymauk Tealeaf.” The words are spoken with a growl, as if the name were a curse itself. Molly rather likes that idea. “The parasite.”

Molly chuckles, “Not the prettiest name I’ve been called but certainly not the worst.”

“What do you want,” Lucien snarls. “At least let me die in fucking peace.”

“I won’t,” Molly responds, his voice deeper as well as the anger that he’s kept bottled up since Lucien has arrived starts to seep out. “See, you hurt my friends. You hurt Yasha deeply and it is for that that I hope you will never have a restful moment. You didn’t know them.”

“Nor did I want to,” Lucien replies, his voice weaker now. “They…do seem to love you quite a lot.”

“As I love them,” Molly responds easily. And with a burning feeling of anger, Molly turns it into love. Because his anger is borne of nothing but a deep love for his friends. Using the love as a guide, Mollymauk plunges deep into Lucien’s mind. 

He swims through the caverns of darkness and memories until he hears a laugh, Jester’s laugh. A sound he would never forget for all the world, he so adores making her laugh.

With a slight smile, Molly pulls towards it and sees the first time he met this crew, all of them looking ragged and worn, and somehow so much younger. That memory leads to another, their first night on the road together. Then to a memory of a drinking contest gone wrong.

He forces Lucien to watch memory after memory of the people who killed him.

Jester gives him a big hug, whispering her thanks in Infernal, he kisses her hair. I had never met another tiefling before her, she set the bar too high for all the others that followed, Molly tells the monster.

Nott tries to steal from him, but he catches her by the wrist with a fond smile. Tricky one she is, sticky fingers but a heart of gold. 

Fjord sits in the bed across from him, asking kindly about his swords, Molly tells him a glamorous lie. I never did know what to make of that one, so many secrets and yet he has such a bleeding heart.

Molly kisses Caleb’s forehead, hoping that it will get him out of his stupor. He is so fond, so dear, and yet he hides it all to shield his heart. How can someone not love him for that?

Beau flips him off, Molly doing the same in return. She’s a real tough bitch, loved her like a sister because of it.

Yasha braids flowers into his hair and he gives her a four leaf clover in return. I love her the most, so much that even when you reappeared, my love for her bled through, Mollymauk adds finally. 

“Why must you show me this,” Lucien growls, growing ever weaker in the split second that has yet to pass. “I know them for the buffoons they are.”

“Yes, they’re buffoons, but what does that say about you if they managed to strike you down?” Molly asks, his voice light with humor. “You were never a match for them. With hearts as big as theirs, all one needed to do was ask for mercy and kindness and they would have shown it to you. Probably,” Mollymauk chuckles. 

Lucien is silent for a long, long moment before he says, “At least I know that I’m taking you down with me.” 

Molly imagines himself smiling, “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. They’re some persistent motherfuckers. And in their eyes, you desecrated my corpse. I hope whatever hell awaits you, Lucien, is lukewarm at best.” 

And as the light begins to fade, Mollymauk grabs one last memory, pulling himself as hard as he can into it. 

In the memory, he’s standing in the rain. He’s but a few weeks out of the grave at this point, yet unable to talk. But as the rain falls on his face, he imagines it washing away the person he used to be. He imagines it welcoming the person he is about to become. And as he inhales the deep smell of ozone in the memory, Mollymauk fades. Lucien fades. 

But someone new steps forward, still wet from the rain of their past lives.

[c-kiddo]

My jaw is on the floor about that reply to your post… even aside from the misogyny, the racism… like there’s a lot to be said about how Yasha’s tribe is depicted in canon and I’m not the person to talk about that but “forced to be savage” just has such anti indigenous undertones… like. Gd. What the fuck. Why would you say that. Also the new design sucks.

[Image ID: An ask from seinnamain, reading: "Feel free to delete this obviously, but the reblog from the aphobe on that domesticated Yasha post makes me so 😬... The tribe forced her to be a "savage"??? That wording is kinda yikes." End ID.]

posting these together since theyre both about the same thing - but , yea. to be honest i was so much focusing on the design aspect that that aspect of their bad take didnt really register in my brain.. but. yea. yous totally have a point. also yea, think its worth talking about the way yasha's tribe is spoken about.. mostly it seems like, unchecked bigotry toward indigenous people and other POC that's been baked into dnd since the beginning.. and like, its not outright, but they should've examined that and thought about the connotations of a "violent tribe".. also, sidenote - i know picts and celtic people stuff where also demonised, but couldve called her tribe a violent brutal clan or something instead, at least it doesn't have a racist, colonialist past behind the idea of a violent tribe. also in yasha's earlier designs she was more celtic inspired rather than based on viking people and scandinavian, so it couldve worked. thats just my idea though. . interested in hearing others for sure :-o

but yea, that person , bad vibes all around. i looked at their blog and there was plenty of shit takes so . lol

edit: i forgot to say, but important to note that in the comic, th majority of leaders in yasha’s tribe appear to be white. it would be worse if they were POC and if they were i would be saying it was racist. because they’re not is why i’m saying it has bad connotations that they should’ve thought about

[aspiringsophrosyne]

Mother Ocean: Fjord And The Mighty Nein.

In anticipation of the upcoming animated series, let's talk about Fjord.

One thing that I cannot stress enough...that I cannot stress enough...is how goddamned consistently Freudian Fjord's story accidentally turned out.

Let's take a look at that, shall we? We'll start with a comparison between Fjord and his Campaign One counterpart. 

Fjord and Grog 

Now as different as they seem, Fjord and Grog's stories have at least one big theme in common. The low-key rejection of toxic masculinity. 

In Grog's story, it's less subtle, but in Fjord's, it's more prevalent.

Grog was the runt of his Herd. When he spared Wilhand Trickfoot, a much smaller and physically weaker man Kevdak saw as worthless, he was beaten and left for dead. Later, it's only with the help of his friends (and specifically a gnome, which I always thought was rather poetic) that Grog could take his uncle down.

Fjord is a half-orc who is unusually lacking in strength. A man who grew up in a world where survival was predicated on a tough façade, and he finds it in the voice and manners of his missing captain and father figure because, as he says, when Vandran talked, people listened. Not only that, but he also gained a Warlock patron who pushed him deeper and more desperately into the act. 

But that's only the first part of his story. When he throws away his pact weapon and, with it, his false affectation, another power becomes available to him.

But he's only able to do that because of the influence of the Nein and what they'd been through together up to that point.

Gender Dynamics in The Mighty Nein.

It really can't be overstated how much of a positive influence the Mighty Nein were on each other. Travis has said on Talks that part of the turning point for Fjord was Beau running back to get him during the King's Cage. Fjord was always frantic not to be a liability. But the Mighty Nein always had his back: when the Shepherds abducted him, Yasha, and Jester, and when they were trying to escape from the Laughing Hand alongside a possessed Yasha. And they still did even after that last pushed him to throw away his powers. 

But even before that: traveling with the Nein Fjord was granted something just as significant. If much more ephemeral. 

Caleb is physically weak, soft-spoken, and secretive; but brilliant, tactical, and highly destructive. Mollymauk is flamboyant, shameless, and genderfluid, no stranger to pain and no slouch in a fight. Cad is introspective, slow to anger, and a little spacey but willing to do grim work.

In other words, none of the men are traditionally masculine, but they all repeatedly prove themselves useful, both in and out of battle. 

It doesn't stop with the boys, either. Jester is probably the most traditionally feminine of the women. She's also willful, clever, not afraid to speak her mind, and the second most physically powerful of the group. Yasha is, among other things, a brutal powerhouse who takes absolutely no shit and is endearingly awkward to boot. Nott is tactless, self-interested, and unsophisticated but in no way dumb. And Beau is...well, Beau. She's crass, blunt, always horny on main, and only needs her fists to beat your ass.

The women, as a whole, are partly traditionally feminine at best. Yet, like the boys, all of them can pull their weight in and out of a fight. 

This might've served as a revelation to Fjord. Who, like Grog, by all indications, came from a world where an untraditionally masculine man would've been derided as useless at best.

This, plus the contrast between Avantika's zealous worship of Uk'otoa and Caduceus' calm surety in his reverence for the Wild Mother is a big part of what allows Fjord to see another way forward for himself. 

It makes Fjord's story that of a man looking too hard for his identity in the typically, stringently, and unhealthily masculine, unable to recognize that what he was looking for could be found by tapping into what he would consider his more feminine side. And this makes obvious sense in hindsight, as the sea is a hugely feminine symbol, and the sea was Fjord's first true joy and escape. 

The Freudian stuff.

So we've got a an orphan who came from a background where traditional and even toxic masculinity to the exclusion of the traditionally feminine was regarded as the norm, who in trying to reunite with a found father figure fell into the trap of a sea monster demi-god that exploits that in order to be freed, who learns from his fellow travelers that there are other ways of being that would still allow him to contribute to the group. This leads him to break away from his upbringing and his Patron's influence to embrace the Wild Mother, a nature goddess that ties both into his love of the sea and his status as a man who never knew his mother. And she is a better fit and a better patron for him and just in general than Uk'otoa could ever be. 

All of that is already a pretty thematically consistent storyline. But then, when we get to the Freudian B. S., the knob goes to eleven. And then pops off. 

Our boy is a hexblade (texblade) warlock with a sword for a pact weapon, and his patron is an immeasurably massive sea serpent that comes to him in, well, the cast joked about it: wet dreams.

Now come on. You can't get any more phallic than that unless you're Jester.

As the Nein travel, Fjord becomes a darker, more provocative presence the longer he travels on his patron's pilgrimage. But when Fjord refuses to open the last seal, Uk'otoa gets pissy. He repeatedly rescinds Fjord's abilities, leaving him and the Mighty Nein vulnerable. Fortunately for Fjord, another entity steps in with an offer.

The Wild Mother.

After Fjord has so long chased after fathers and corruptive masculine coded influences connected to them, he is given relief and eventually power from a goddess. Whose epitaph is the Wild Mother? Who is the goddess of the sea, which is the center of Fjord's life?

But I'm not done yet. If you look at the accidental symbolism inherent to the nature of the godly figures involved here, it goes deeper than that.

Uk'otoa is trying to exert control over the Wild Mother's domain. Specifically over the ocean, one of the most recognizable yonic symbols in our collective thematic history. The Wild Mother, after she pulls Fjord free from Uk'otoa's nightmare and into her dream ocean, even calls the space a womb.

So we have an orphan who found a father figure. In trying to reunite with him, he follows in his footsteps and, as Vandran did, falls under the sway of the same snake: a violent, unwanted invader of the womb of a nature goddess called the Wild Mother. That pushed Fjord deeper under his mask of toxic masculine traits.

And this journey he takes, in which he slowly drops that mask, sees Fjord realigning his loyalty, from the phallic victimizer, to the goddess whose yonic space was the target of its attempted subjugation.

To sum it up, we have a story of an orphan sailor who slowly learns to walk away from his unhealthy relationship with masculinity, which is thematically supported by the influence of his less-than-traditionally presenting fellow travelers and his abandoning an abusive and incredibly masculine-coded patron in favor of a divine figure that is not only, in contrast, a goddess but a mother goddess of the sea at that. This is then also supported by the Freudian symbolism inherent in his pact weapon, the form of his patron, the territory it is attempting to invade to rule, and the nature of the goddess who adopts him into her service.

The fact that Fjord and Vandran were both physically intimate with the same woman was just the cherry on top of the Freudian Sunday, my dudes.

Also, note how big of an accident all this was. If Molly hadn't gone down so early, Taliesin would've never made Cad, and there's a big chance the Wild Mother never would've entered the story. And all this symbolism never would've lined up so perfectly. 

(Though, if Molly had lived and a similar thing had gone down with the Moonweaver, it's worthwhile to note there would've been a familiar thematic lineup, as the moon has its own connection to the tides, the sea, and feminine energy. The same themes wouldn't have been as perfect or overt, but they would've been there.)

It's fucking bananas.

Edited for clarity and less redundancy.

[powerfultenderness]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

thank you @chemmerson 😊

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? - 49

2. What's your total Ao3 word count - 153,380

3. What fandoms do you write for? - Currently, only CoD.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Forlorn Hope (925)

Death's Angel (257)

Lucky Stars (217)

Why is your hair so long? (192)

I Take What I want (177)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? - I try to now. I didn't realize I could when I first started posting on ao3 😅 I try to at least thank every comment now. Unless it's something like "part 2!!!" on a one-shot I posted years ago. Idk how to tell those ppl that I don't even like that character anymore...

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? - oh. I Know you didn't mean it. (Bucky fic written before CW came out, and I had Bucky revert to the Winter Soldier again)

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? - Hmm, hard to say. I went through a couple of years where I only wrote fluff, so there's a lot of happy endings (er, not the smutty kind).

8. Do you get hate on fics? - I used to. Back in my ff.net days. But nothing of the sort on AO3.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? - I finally gave in and started writing smut this year! What does this question mean, what kind? like m/f? or like...the warning tags??

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? - Nope.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? - Nope.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? - Nope.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? - Nope. But @pretendfan and I have joked about collabing. Maybe one day when we're both back on the same blorbo (vig lol) at the same time.

14. What's your all time favorite ship? - i'm a self shipper above all.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? - The current one that I'm chipping away at.

16. What are your writing strengths? - Idk...sometimes I come up with something silly that people grab onto.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? - I don't know how to write feelings and emotions.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? - "Italicize it," and simply say what language it was spoken in.

19. First fandom you wrote for? - hmm....Inu Yasha? Yu Yu Hakusho? Tbh, I can't remember.

20. Favorite fic you've written? - The Baker's Daughter. It is a good example of the essence of my writing, the kind of sweet fluff that often permeates my fics, even the ones that are supposed to be angsty/dark/smutty.