#and there's bard over here

[utilitycaster]

I do think it's worth calling out that a lot of the arguments in favor of killing the gods treat their worshipers as the "haves" amidst a sea of "have-nots" and that's just...flat out false in Exandrian canon, in addition to obliquely pinging certain antisemitic canards I am unfortunately attuned to by necessity, even though I suspect that's largely unintentional.

There are powerful adherents to the gods, but there's a lot of worshipers who gain nothing but whatever meaning they personally draw. We saw the Schuesters in Hupperdook in C2, who were imprisoned for following the Changebringer within the Empire, and seemed to have no cleric or paladin powers; nor, to our knowledge, does Imahara Joe. Technically we learned that Molly did sort of get something out of the Moon Weaver, but he didn't know that during the campaign. Grog thinks The Stormlord is pretty neat but hasn't gotten any powers from him. We saw worshipers of the Lawbearer and Dawnfather in Whitestone and worshipers of the Wildmother elsewhere in Tal'Dorei during Campaign 1, again mostly without any specific powers. In this episode and during the Team Wildemount arc we've seen no shortage of people simply going to temples as a place to seek comfort and meaning. Hell, the Player's Handbook outright says it: "Not every acolyte or officiant at a temple or shrine is a cleric. Some priests are called to a simple life of temple service, carrying out their gods' will through prayer and sacrifice, not by magic and strength of arms."

I think a generous read is that a lot of D&D players who aren't playing a mechanically divinely connected character don't make their character religious in any way, and so it becomes easy, with a PC-focused mindset, to assume that the only religious people are clerics, paladins, and the handful of deity-connected subclasses from other classes, but that isn't true and never has been in Exandria.

[necroticboop]

— Iain Thomas, I Wrote This For You

[spielzeugkaiser]

I just had the image of Jaskier coming back from a long day of work, and maybe just collapsing in bed from exhaustion, only to wake up and see lil Roachie tucked in with him and lil Milek tucking blankets around him because ‘papa always does it for him! He can take care of papa too!’ I love your art SO much!!! It gives me all the feeelssssss🥹👏🏼❤️❤️❤️

[MASTERPOST]

Excuse me while I cry, this was just too cute to not draw, thank you for sharing that adorable image with me!

[sableprince]

originally i wasnt gonna post this but i've been convinced otherwise. a post-game sequel to this silly comic.

[goobobbers]

A lute player of the Marius Ronies family. Circa. 1491 DR

[pinacoladamatata]

"Change, change will preserve us. It will move mountains...it will mount movements"

I don't know about y'all, everything uncle sheo said made perfect sense to me. Oblivion was a love story.

[everyones-least-favorite-bard]

consequences.

(go read banshee in a well by @liverobinreaction)

[nerdallwritey]

Snippet Sunday!

Thanks @khywren for the tag <3

I have FINISHED part 5 of Beauty and the Bard! My beta got married yesterday so she was a LITTLE too busy to read it last week, but I think I'll be able to get it out to you guys at some point this week 😈

“You’re here because of those rotflowers, aren’t you?” The dwarf with the Absolute pendant got to his feet and pulled the arrow out of his shoulder. “You reek of justice and good deeds.” “Funny,” you said, using the pommel of your rapier to push a now visible dwarf off the platform you were on, “and I just took a bath this morning.” “Would you classify that as a bath?” Astarion called down to you, mischief in his eyes. You smiled, but could already feel yourself starting to lose steam, even though the battle had just started. You pressed on and cast another Shatter, scattering your enemies further. “And what would you classify it as?” “I can think of many things, but we’re in such polite company, I shan’t say.” He shot a flaming arrow down onto the beach and hit multiple dwarves at once in the explosion.  “I don’t like whatever’s happening here,” the dwarf with the Absolute amulet said. “But I’ll make you pay for siding with those mushroom abominations.” The dwarf raised his hands and uttered a spell you didn't recognize, but a cacophony of noise from below caught your attention. The lapse in focus cost you, as one of the dwarves you’d been fending off pushed you off the platform. You heard your companions yell your name as you landed hard in the sand below. It took you a second to regain your bearings before you realized what the sound had been. Fallen Duergar were now rising, life not returning to their eyes, but risen all the same. Animate Dead.  You’d heard of this spell; had seen it in action with Mayrina’s husband, Connor. But you had yet to see it used in battle.  Now you were surrounded by undead dwarves, hell bent on tearing you apart.  “Hi,” was all you could manage through the spinning of your head. You blinked a few times before blocking the heavy strike of an axe with your slim rapier. When it was clear that the axe was going to prevail, you rolled out of the way and the axe connected with the sand that had been beneath your head. 

UH OH! WHAT'S GONNA HAPPEN?? Spoiler alert: There's no smut in this one, but a lot of fluff and rage and angst and fluff.

Tagging: @busy-baker, @ladyduellist, @atsadi-shenanigans and @astarioffsimpmain - sorry if you've already been tagged, no pressure at all!

[bacchuschucklefuck]

you get riz gukgak so well 👍👍

thank u!! he really kinda is all of my favourite character things rolled into one package (negotiation of principles/investigator-truth seeker-negotiator with reality and the narrative/obnoxious character whose narrative reward for participating in the story is getting to be even more authentically obnoxious/deeply and hauntingly aroace

[doriansbutt]

Maybe you found the spot on the map

But lost the kid on the way to the mark

Tell me now were you digging for gold

Or digging yourself in a hole?

Now tell me “now, where’s the head in the clouds?”

Now tell me “now, where’s the bright eyed lad?”

Now tell me “now, where’s the kid tellin’ tall tales?”

Siren, Colm R. McGuinness

I can’t explain the emotion this song gives me about my dragon age ttrpg character Saeed but it’s making me cry

[slightlyhopefulromantic]

ive been thinking about this drawing since like february, but i just simply have not drawn it until now. happy june 1st guys :]

[yashley]

you ever think about how a choice that wasn’t even really a choice for fearne, but her being the only one with the ability to perform the ritual that made it her* choice as everyone around her buckled to try to help her out of that situation and the ramifications of that choice that she had scarred her so deeply that now she is terrified of making another mistake that will dramatically affect the people around her who she loves, and then when another situation followed, she was led into a situation that she did not want to be a part of, but under the veil of friendship reluctantly assisted and it blew up literally once again, took that overwhelming burden of guilt and while her friends stood by and once more let her be alone in her guilt and scarred her further.

now it feels like she can’t make any choice for herself, she can’t make any move because that will ultimately inevitably lead to her making a mistake and all of her precious friends will look down at her in disappointment and that there is not a single friend amongst them who has the emotional wherewithal to what’s happening with how fearne has changed and how she is shutting in on herself and how she is slowly imploding breaking at the seams because she’s being lost in the sea of guilt and no one else notices and no one else sees that she feels like she can’t do anything anymore from the smallest carefree little action that has no plot repercussions to a character centered decision that is integral to her own character arc that has been in the works for her character since the campaign’s conception

now she can’t even say anything, and if fearne does have an idea to do something. She quietly mutters it, and if they hear her they hear her enough to respond that ehhh that's not a good plan and that’s not gonna work and we’re not gonna do that. We’re gonna do this and fearne being fearne, trusting in her friends and doubting herself to the point of despair will nod her head that they were right and then we go on with our day until the next moment happens where she wants to think of something, she wants to do something, and it’s dismissed as the silly dumb fearne not thinking, that She has her own thoughts and feelings, and drives and desires but because she is drowning in doubt and drowning in guilt, She freezes up and doesn’t move and everyone around her just pushes her on, and even in the moment where she is faced with the situation that she is terrified of undertaking, and she is terrified of becoming a Nightmare version of herself her friends push her forward, her friends dust off her shoulders say your doubt is misplaced, and don’t worry about it and you need to do this, it should be you. This is for you.

They just completely dismiss and ignore her when she actually does speak up so what does that do? that means that she remains silent. She doubts herself more. She even more will only make a decision if it’s signed off by all these fucking people around her who claim to be her friends. she can’t even move without frantically looking to people around her for confirmation that that’s a good idea she’s not gonna fuck up. Everything about her that was supposed to be free and fun and sweet has just rendered her into a character who feels like they have as much agency as characters who would be absent for the majority of the campaign.

shes been so chained up by doubt and so chained up by guilt and hesitation and fear that she just is a person who affirms everyone else’s desires and ideas because what she wants will inevitably end up being horrible and everyone will hate her for it and they’ll leave

and it’s like if they deem fearne even capable enough to be the vessel she will leap at the chance to be useful and to be told her path and it’s like. fearne was ruidusborn first. how has this campaign done such a disservice to her character that the only thing fearne is certain of is that she doesn’t really matter. she’s a ruidusborn and holds a primordial titan of fire inside her, and she still believes she doesn’t really count are you kidding me

[all-or-nothing-baby]

LAVENDER MILK AND BLACKBERRY WINE

.

The first time they share a room together at an inn, Jaskier is, unsurprisingly, completely at ease with—well. With everything.

The bard is so comfortable in these surroundings, obviously much more at home with soft bed linens and oil lamps than a patch of damp grass and only the light of a yellow-y moon. Jask is seemingly still so at ease with Geralt, too, even in such close quarters. He's apparently also completely unbothered by his own stark nakedness as he now shamelessly strips down entirely, readying himself for a warm and replenishing lavender milk bath and a cup or ten of blackberry wine.

The witcher watches the bard, whilst trying not to.

Geralt's cat-eyes very much struggle to stop following pale and slender limbs as they swirl around like dragonflies in the fragrant steam that now sits heavy and hot in the midst of their small room. Jaskier prances and preens and eventually melts like jam in porridge into the bath's soothing waters. The eternal bard then, of course, proceeds to prattle on and away about something and nothing and everything, occasionally breaking out into broken verses of half‐baked songs.

Geralt—sat sharpening his blades, sometimes grunting in occasional outward acknowledgement, sometimes not—keeps trying his damned best not to look.

He fails.

Jaskier sips long and often from his cup, the wine leaving his full mouth lacquered. Plum‐stained. Inviting.

Geralt watches still, swallowing whole cupfuls at a time of the sweetened fruit wine, thickly and far too fast.

The bard is then nonchalantly asking Geralt if Geralt, “Would you like to maybe join me in the tub?”  

Geralt pulls a face with an air of faux-disdain, huffing and puffing his cowedly dismissal. 

Very obviously trying not to smile, Jaskier purses those berry‐smacked lips of his and merely blinks at Geralt for a few moments, just. Looking. Or looking back, seeing as Geralt—even red-faced and fuming as he is—simply cannot look away.

Then Jask concedes a small, secretive smile, like he knows something Geralt wants to, before he shrugs it off and says, not unkindly, "Suit yourself."

Geralt immediately hurls himself out of the room with the force of an enraged Archgriffin, the plucked excuse of purchasing more wine a most welcome gods-send.

"Hurry back, dear witcher!" Jaskier's giggling torment floats after him. 

On his way down the staircase to the main part of the inn, Geralt bites into his bottom lip so fucking hard he's tasting iron for the rest of the hellish evening.

[suddenrundown]

currently repeating "you are under no obligation to be good at the things you do for fun" to myself over and over

[alloreli]

tagged by @asexualbookbird and i'm SO ON THIS i'm doing it within like a half hour of getting tagged

anyways pick one of my Top 5 favorite characters

per usual tagging anyone who's interested in doing this

[helpimstuckinafandom]

Me starting another bg3 run where I will make virtually all the same decisions in mostly the same order as if there isn't different branching paths