#that type is disaster wizard

[dayntee]

Sitting here, pretending who I’m gonna romance is gonna be some kind of hard choice when I know I have a TYPE -

[dayntee]

Ugh I love this fucking disaster wizard.

Give me the dumbest smart men any day of the week.

it will never not be intensely funny to me that this banter between karlach and gale only triggers after the weave scene lmao

protag: mind projects a romantic walk with just the two of them holding hands tenderly / a passionate kiss

gale: i (i mean NOT me) detected a HINT ☝️ of romantic interest MAYBE 🤔

[evermoreness]

the bet | sirius black

pairing: sirius black x reader

summary: james bets sirius can't make you fall in love with him and now sirius is all over you.

masterlist

It started, like most ridiculous things in Sirius Black’s life, because of James Potter.

The Gryffindor common room was loud that evening, filled with students playing Wizard’s Chess, finishing last-minute essays, or just causing trouble. Sirius lounged on the couch, legs stretched over the armrest, twirling his wand between his fingers as he half-listened to James and Peter argue about Quidditch formations.

And then you laughed.

Not at him—though that wouldn’t have been surprising—but across the room, sitting with Marlene and Lily, head thrown back, eyes sparkling with mischief. Sirius had heard you laugh plenty of times, but for some reason, this one caught his attention. Maybe it was because of how easily you laughed, how effortlessly you filled the space around you with warmth and energy.

James, ever perceptive (and ever annoying), caught the way Sirius was looking at you and smirked.

“Mate,” he said, nudging Sirius’s boot off the couch. “You’re staring.”

Sirius rolled his eyes and sat up properly. “Please. I don’t stare—people hope I’ll stare.”

Peter snorted. “Yeah, alright.”

James leaned back in his chair, a knowing glint in his eyes. “You know,” he mused, “I don’t think Y/n ever actually fallen for your charms.”

Sirius scoffed, placing a hand on his chest like he’d just been gravely insulted. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, she flirts with you,” James continued, as if this wasn’t a direct attack on Sirius’s entire identity, “but she flirts with everyone. She’s probably the only girl at Hogwarts who hasn’t fallen for your act.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes, turning his attention back to you. You were a flirt—always had been. And you were good at it too, quick-witted and confident, never the type to get flustered. He’d flirted with you plenty of times, and you always matched him, grin for grin, quip for quip. But James was right—you never blushed, never got nervous, never gave him that look most girls did when he turned on the charm.

It was… interesting.

And Sirius Black loved a challenge.

“You’re saying,” Sirius said slowly, “that if I actually tried, she wouldn’t fall for me?”

James grinned. “I’m saying you can’t do it.”

Remus, who had been reading by the fire (and wisely staying out of this nonsense), sighed. “Here we go.”

Peter perked up. “Ooh, is this a bet?”

Sirius smirked. “It is now.”

James sat up straighter, eyes gleaming. “Alright then, Black. Let’s make it official. I bet you—” he paused for effect, “—ten Galleons that you can’t make her fall for you.”

Sirius raised a brow. “Ten? That’s all?”

James laughed. “Alright, big shot, fifteen.”

“Twenty.”

“You want to lose money that badly?”

Sirius leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, expression downright smug. “Oh, I never lose.”

Remus groaned. “This is a terrible idea.”

James ignored him. “Alright, fine. Twenty Galleons says she will never fall for you.”

Sirius held out a hand. James shook it. The deal was made.

Peter clapped his hands together. “Ooooh, this is gonna be fun.”

Remus muttered, “This is going to end in disaster.”

Sirius leaned back, stretching lazily, confidence radiating off him. “Just you lot wait. By the end of the month, she will be smitten.”

“Sure, mate,” James said, shaking his head. “Sure.”

Across the room, you turned slightly, catching Sirius’s gaze. Your eyes met his, and instead of looking away, you held his stare, tilting your head slightly as if daring him to make a move.

And just to be infuriating, you gave him a wink.

Sirius grinned.

This was going to be fun.

The game begins

Sirius Black was a man on a mission.

The very next morning, he strolled into the Great Hall like he owned the place—not an uncommon occurrence. But today, his target wasn’t just looking devastatingly handsome or stealing toast off James’s plate. No, today was about you.

You were sitting with Marlene and Lily, sipping your coffee and looking far too amused for someone who had barely started the day. The moment Sirius approached, Marlene smirked knowingly.

“Uh-oh,” she muttered. “Brace yourself.”

You looked up just as Sirius slid into the seat beside you, his signature smirk firmly in place. “Morning, love,” he drawled, reaching out and plucking a piece of bacon from your plate.

You raised an eyebrow but let him take it. “Flirting before I’ve had my coffee? Bold move, Black.”

Sirius grinned. “I figured I should start early. Give you the whole day to think about how devastatingly charming I am.”

You took a slow sip of coffee, holding eye contact. Then, deadpan: “Who are you again?”

Marlene cackled.

Lily snorted into her pumpkin juice.

But Sirius? He only grinned wider. “Ah, playing hard to get, are we? Don’t worry, love. I love a challenge.”

You tilted your head, smirking. “Do you, now?”

Sirius leaned in ever so slightly. “Mmm. And something tells me you do too.”

You pretended to consider this. “That’s true. But here’s the thing—I’m very good at it.”

Sirius chuckled. Oh, this is going to be interesting.

Since then, it was suspicious how often Sirius Black seemed to run into you that week.

He was always around, flirting, teasing, and honestly just trying to get your attention somehow. It was becoming a very odd habit to be around him that much.

It's been a few days now, and it seemed Sirius wasn't going to back down on whatever the plan he had in his head.

Try harder.

The Hogwarts library was your sanctuary. A place of peace, quiet, and most importantly, a place without distractions. Better saying, a place without Sirius Black.

At least, that was the idea.

Because of course, when you were finally alone, enjoying the rare bliss of uninterrupted reading, a shadow loomed over your book, and with it, his voice.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

You sighed without looking up. “This is a library, Sirius. People come here to study.”

Sirius Black had a very particular way of invading one’s personal space. Instead of just standing in front of your table like a normal person, he leaned forward, resting his elbows against the wood, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him.

“Yes, well,” he mused, “I figured you might be lonely.”

You finally lifted your gaze, unimpressed. “Oh, how thoughtful. And totally not an excuse to bother me.”

Sirius let out a dramatic gasp, clutching his chest like you had physically harmed him. “You wound me.”

You smirked. “Not yet, but if you keep talking, I might.”

His grin widened. “Feisty. I like it.”

“You like everything.”

“No, just you.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling.

Sirius noticed.

He noticed everything.

And like the menace he was, he took that as an invitation.

With a lazy confidence that only he could pull off, he slid into the chair across from you, propping his chin on one hand. “So, what are we reading today?”

We. As if he was included in this activity.

You sighed, snapping your book shut with an audible thud. “Sirius, don’t you have somewhere else to be? Like, I don’t know, bothering James? Tormenting Snape? Staring at yourself in a mirror?”

“Multitasking, love.” He winked. “Besides, I like this game much better.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What game?”

“The one where I try to get you to fall for me.” He smirked. “And you pretend you’re not already madly in love.”

You let out a short laugh. “Oh, that’s what this is?”

Sirius tapped his fingers against the table. “Mmm, seems that way, doesn’t it?”

You leaned forward slightly, resting your arms on the wood between you. “I hate to break it to you, Black, but if this is your grand seduction plan, I’d give it a solid four out of ten.”

Sirius clutched his heart again, even more dramatically than before. “Four?! That’s a crime.”

“Would’ve been a three, but I added an extra point for effort.”

He narrowed his eyes, studying you. “You’re toying with me.”

You smirked. “What gave it away?”

Sirius huffed, but the grin never left his lips. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he examined you. His eyes flickered between yours, as if searching for a weak spot.

Then, he smiled.

That slow, dangerous, oh no kind of smile.

“Alright, then,” he mused, tilting his head. “I’ll just have to try harder.”

You arched an eyebrow. “That sounds suspiciously like a challenge.”

“Maybe it is.”

Your fingers tapped against your book thoughtfully. “So what happens if you lose?”

Sirius grinned. “I never lose.”

You leaned in slightly, dropping your voice to a whisper. “Sounds like someone’s overconfident.”

Sirius mirrored your movement, his voice dropping to match yours. “Sounds like someone’s tempted.”

You held his gaze for a long, tense moment, a silent battle of wills.

Determined not to let him win this round, you leaned in too, mirroring his movement, until your faces were barely inches apart.

“You know what, Sirius?” you whispered.

His smirk widened. “What, love?”

You reached forward, grabbed your book—and snapped it shut in his face.

Sirius jerked back, startled, blinking rapidly.

“Merlin’s bloody beard, woman!” Sirius exclaimed, rubbing his forehead. “That was uncalled for!”

You leaned back in your chair, casually flipping your book open again. “No, invading my personal space was uncalled for.”

Sirius groaned dramatically, slumping in his chair. “You are absolutely infuriating.”

“You love it,” you said sweetly.

Sirius huffed, but there was no mistaking the way his lips curled up. “One day, sweetheart,” he said, voice low and full of promise. “One day, you’re going to beg me to kiss you.”

You scoffed, flipping a page. “Highly unlikely.”

Sirius just smirked, standing up and giving you a mock salute. “We’ll see.”

And with that, he turned and sauntered out of the library, leaving you staring after him, suddenly very aware of the warmth lingering on your face.

The retaliation.

It's been weeks now.

Weeks.

And Sirius was still all over you.

At this point, it was clear that Sirius Black had declared war.

Your response to that? Oh, he had no idea who he was messing with.

Because if Sirius Black wanted to play this game, you were going to make damn sure he suffered for it.

So, the next time you saw him in the corridor—leaning lazily against the wall, that insufferable grin already in place—you stopped, tilted your head, and gave him a slow, deliberate once-over.

Sirius blinked, caught slightly off guard. But only for a second.

Then, he smirked, straightening up. “See something you like, sweetheart?”

You let the silence drag out, letting his own arrogance build up. Then, just as his smirk widened—

You hummed, tapping your chin. “Hmm. Almost.”

Then, with a slow, infuriatingly confident wink, you turned on your heel and walked away.

Sirius stood frozen in place.

For a solid ten seconds.

You could feel his confusion radiating behind you, the absolute whiplash of thinking he had the upper hand, only to be completely blindsided.

James, who had just walked up behind Sirius, witnessed the entire thing. He clapped Sirius on the back with a grin. “Mate.”

Sirius didn’t even turn.

James smirked. “I think you just got Sirius’d.”

Sirius finally blinked, coming back to himself. He turned to James, looking betrayed. “That—that’s not a thing.”

James snorted. “It definitely is now.”

Sirius turned back toward the hallway you had disappeared down, running a hand through his hair, still processing.

You almost felt bad for him.

Almost.

But then you heard his voice, muttering to himself as you rounded the corner—

“Bloody hell.”

And that?

That was exactly the reaction you wanted.

The shift.

The Gryffindor common room was warm with the crackling fire, but the corridors leading to it were anything but. The stone walls seemed to absorb every bit of warmth, leaving you slightly chilled as you walked back from the Prefect’s meeting. It had run longer than expected—something about Filch catching a group of first-years trying to hex Mrs. Norris (which, honestly, you would have given them extra House points for).

As you turned the last corner, you spotted him.

Sirius Black, leaning against the wall right outside the common room entrance, looking for all the world like he was posing for a magazine cover. His arms were crossed over his chest, one foot propped against the stone, his black hair perfectly tousled in that effortlessly charming way that drove half the school mad.

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you seriously waiting for me?”

Sirius smirked. “What makes you think I wasn’t just casually standing here, looking incredibly handsome?”

You sighed, exasperated but amused. “Because you’re Sirius Black. And Sirius Black doesn’t do casual.”

Sirius pushed off the wall, stepping in front of you, blocking your way into the common room. “Guilty as charged,” he admitted. “Though, in my defense, you do make it very hard to resist waiting around just to see you.”

You tilted your head, smirking. “That was almost sweet.”

He grinned. “Almost?”

“Yes, almost. But then I remembered you say this kind of thing to everyone.”

Sirius gasped dramatically. “Now that’s just slander. I’d never be this dedicated to anyone else.”

“Oh, dedicated now, are we?” you teased.

He stepped closer, closing some of the space between you, his smirk never fading. “You have noticed, haven’t you?”

Your smirk mirrored his, refusing to back down. “Oh, I’ve noticed.” You leaned in just a fraction. “I just don’t think it’s working.”

Sirius let out a soft laugh, but there was something in his expression—something unreadable, something a little too amused, a little too confident. “Oh, love,” he murmured, voice lower now, teasing but laced with something else. “You say that like you’re not enjoying every second of it.”

Your breath caught—just for a moment.

Not because he was right (which he wasn’t, obviously), but because of how close he suddenly was. The playful flirting had been going on for weeks now, but this? This was new.

You weren’t about to let him win, though.

With slow deliberation, you reached up and threaded your fingers through his hair, twirling a loose strand between your fingers. “Lovely hair,” you mused, watching his expression closely. “Shame if someone—oh, I don’t know—hexed it green.”

Sirius stilled.

It was brief, barely a second, but you felt it—the way his breath hitched just slightly, the way his smirk faltered for half a heartbeat before he recovered.

Then, he exhaled a soft laugh. “You wouldn’t dare.”

You grinned. “Try me.”

Sirius blinked, clearly caught off guard.

Then, he laughed. A real, genuine laugh, not his usual smug chuckle. “Merlin, you really are something else.”

You grinned. “Took you this long to realize?”

Sirius shook his head, still grinning. “I should be winning this, you know.”

You smirked. “Oh, you think you’re winning?”

He chuckled. “I know I am.”

“Sure, Black. Keep telling yourself that.”

His grey eyes flickered with something unreadable before he suddenly leaned in, just enough to make your heart stutter—not quite touching, but close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him.

His voice dropped to a murmur. “You love this.”

For the first time since this ridiculous game had started, you felt your heart stutter—just for a second. He was so close, his voice quieter than usual, like this moment wasn’t just another round of flirting.

You kept your cool, refusing to step back. “Of course I do,” you whispered. “I love watching you try so hard.”

His smirk widened. “Oh, darling. I’m not even trying yet.”

That was it. That was the moment you felt it.

The shift.

You weren’t sure who moved first. Maybe it was him, leaning in just enough to blur the lines of your usual banter. Maybe it was you, tilting your head slightly, eyes locked with his, breath caught somewhere between another teasing remark and something… else.

Whatever it was, the air between you shifted.

Sirius had been relentless these past few weeks, flirting with you at every opportunity, always pushing, always testing. But you had been just as ruthless—flirting back, laughing at his attempts, making sure he never got the reaction he was aiming for. It was a game, a fun one, a ridiculous one.

But now?

Now, you weren’t entirely sure what it was anymore.

You still had your fingers in his hair, twirling a strand between them as if you weren’t hyper-aware of the way he was looking at you. Sirius wasn’t just smirking now—his usual cocky, easy-going expression had melted into something slower, something almost… amused. Like he was watching you figure something out in real time.

His voice was soft, but there was no missing the amusement in it. “You’re staring, love.”

You scoffed, shaking off whatever that moment was. “So are you.”

“Course I am.” He grinned, tilting his head. “You are stunning.”

You rolled your eyes, letting go of his hair and taking a small step back—just enough to clear your head. “You’re insufferable.”

Sirius grinned. “And yet, here you are, still standing in front of me. Fascinating.”

You huffed a laugh. “I’m only here because you’re blocking the entrance.”

“Oh?” He glanced behind him, at the portrait hole, then back at you. “Say please, and I might move.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’d rather hex you.”

Sirius gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. “Violence? So soon in our courtship?”

You groaned, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Move, Black.”

He grinned but didn’t budge. Instead, he leaned slightly closer again, grey eyes twinkling with mischief. “Admit it.”

You crossed your arms. “Admit what?”

“That I make your heart race.”

You blinked. Oh, he was getting bold now.

You tilted your head, pretending to consider. “Hmmm… I do get a strange reaction around you.”

Sirius smirked. “Do you now?”

You nodded solemnly. “Yes. It’s called secondhand embarrassment.”

Sirius barked a laugh. “Merlin, you love giving me a hard time, don’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

He studied you for a second, like he was debating his next move, and then—because he was Sirius Black—he smirked again and leaned in just slightly, lowering his voice to something almost dangerous.

“Don’t worry, love,” he murmured, “I like it rough.”

For the first time, you felt your brain short-circuit.

It was barely noticeable—the fraction of a second it took you to process what he had just said—but Sirius caught it. His smirk widened ever so slightly, his eyes flickering with triumph.

Oh, hell no.

You refused to give him the satisfaction.

So you did the only logical thing: you reached out, grabbed his tie (because of course Sirius Black wore his tie loose and messy), and yanked.

Sirius stumbled forward, his hands flying up instinctively to catch himself on either side of you, palms pressing against the wall just behind your shoulders. He was close now—closer than before, his face mere inches from yours.

His smirk faltered.

Your grip on his tie tightened. “Careful, Black,” you whispered, voice dripping with amusement. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

Sirius exhaled a laugh, but it wasn’t as confident as before. His gaze flickered to your lips—just briefly, just enough for you to notice.

And then, just as quickly, he pulled back, his usual grin snapping back into place. “Well,” he said, voice a little too casual, “this has been fun.”

You let go of his tie, smoothing it down like you hadn’t just pulled him into your trap. “Oh, so much fun.”

Sirius ran a hand through his hair, clearing his throat. “Well then. I suppose I should let you get inside before you freeze to death out here.”

You hummed. “How thoughtful of you.”

He stepped aside, finally moving out of the way, and gestured dramatically to the portrait hole. “After you, my dear.”

You walked past him, but just before stepping inside, you turned back slightly, smirking. “Try harder next time, Black.”

Sirius chuckled, watching as you disappeared into the common room.

And for the first time since this whole thing started, he realized—he was the one who needed to be careful.

Because this?

This wasn’t a game anymore.

The realization.

If someone had told Sirius Black a month ago that he’d be spending every single day trying to fluster a girl and failing miserably, he would’ve laughed in their face.

If they had told him that, in the process, he’d start genuinely enjoying her company instead of just playing around? That he’d actually start looking forward to seeing her, not just for the game but because… he liked being around her?

He would’ve called them a liar.

But here he was.

You had barely stepped into the classroom when you noticed something was off.

Your usual seat, the one you had claimed since the start of the year, was occupied.

And not by just anyone.

Sirius Black sat in your chair, lounging as if he owned the place, a smug smirk firmly in place.

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re in my spot.”

Sirius stretched lazily, arms behind his head. “Oh? Didn’t see your name on it.”

You huffed, placing a hand on your hip. “Move.”

His grin widened. “Make me.”

Oh, he wanted this.

He was practically begging for you to retaliate, thinking he had the upper hand, that he controlled this game.

Well.

He was about to learn exactly why you were a worthy opponent.

You gave him an innocent smile, stepping forward slowly. He watched you, intrigued, likely expecting you to shove him out of the chair or hit him with a sarcastic remark.

Instead, you simply… sat down.

Right in his lap.

His brain, for the first time in his entire existence, short-circuited.

Sirius froze.

James, sitting across from the both of you, choked violently on his own spit.

Peter dropped his quill.

Remus barely glanced up from his book, but there was a very distinct twitch of his lips.

“Comfortable, love?” Sirius finally managed, voice noticeably strained.

You made a show of shifting slightly, settling into place, “Quite.”

Sirius swallowed. Hard.

James rolled his eyes. “You two are actually unbearable.”

You smirked. “What’s wrong, Potter? Can’t handle a little friendly seating arrangement?”

James deadpanned. “That is not a ‘friendly’ anything.”

Sirius, still struggling to recover, cleared his throat. His hands had instinctively settled on your waist when you sat down, and it seemed he just now realized it because they suddenly twitched, as if unsure whether to move away or pull you closer.

You weren’t giving him a single second to recover.

Tilting your head slightly, you turned your head back at him, bringing your lips dangerously close to his ear. “What’s the matter, Black?” you purred. “Speechless?”

Sirius inhaled sharply, gripping your waist just slightly in retaliation. “You wish,” he muttered back, his breath warm against your skin.

James slammed his hands on the desk. “I swear, if you two start shagging right now, I’m dropping out.”

Peter just covered his eyes. “I can’t watch this.”

Remus, without looking up, turned a page in his book. “Oh, please. They’ve been shagging with their eyes for months.”

Sirius barked out a laugh, but you could feel how tense he was under you. You weren’t supposed to be this bold. You were supposed to roll your eyes and huff at him, not actually play along.

You smiled sweetly. “You alright, darling? You seem a bit… tense.”

Sirius swallowed again, eyes locked onto yours, something sharp and dark flickering in them. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m more than alright.”

“Oh, bloody hell,” James groaned, dramatically slumping onto the desk.

Peter still had his hands over his eyes, mumbling something about his innocence being shattered.

Remus just turned another page, unimpressed. “If you lot are done providing the rest of us with free entertainment, I’d like to get through at least one class today without wanting to fling myself into the Black Lake.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, trying to act as if this wasn’t affecting him in the slightest. “I hope you realize you’ve just started something you can’t finish, love.”

You hummed, your face still turned to his, almost touching. “Oh, I always finish what I start, Black.”

Sirius, determined not to be outdone, tightened his grip on your waist ever so slightly, shifting just enough to remind you of where exactly you were sitting. His lips curled into a devilish grin as he leaned in slightly.

Peter peeked through his fingers at you and Sirius, then promptly covered his eyes again. “Nope. Still too much.”

“Careful, love,” he murmured, voice smooth as silk. “You might actually start liking it here.”

And that was when Professor Slughorn walked in.

“Ah, good morning, my dear students!” Slughorn’s voice boomed through the classroom, cheerful and oblivious.

You and Sirius froze.

James’ eyes widened. “Oh, this is better than detention—”

Before he could even finish that sentence, you had launched yourself out of Sirius’s lap so quickly it was like you’d Apparated.

Sirius, whose hands had still been on your waist, was left gripping air, looking momentarily lost before hastily readjusting his posture, trying to appear as if nothing had happened.

You were already in the seat beside him, perfectly composed, as if you hadn’t just been sprawled across his lap like a queen on her throne.

Slughorn, still cheerfully setting down his books, was thankfully none the wiser.

“This isn’t over” Sirius mumbled.

You smirked, pretending to focus on your textbook. “I’d be disappointed if it was.”

Something more?

Sirius Black did not get nervous. He did not overthink. He did not, under any circumstances, lose control of his own game.

And yet—

Ever since that moment in the charms classroom, ever since the way she had looked at him, the way she brought him closer by his tie, her face barely brushed against his—

He was a mess.

He kept telling himself it was nothing. A fluke. Just a moment of bad timing. He had spent weeks flirting with you, teasing you, pushing your buttons, waiting for that one moment where you would crack—where you would get flustered, where you would lose.

But now?

Now he wasn’t even sure what the prize was anymore.

It started at breakfast.

He had taken his usual seat beside James, stretching his arms over his head with a yawn. “Morning, peasants,” he greeted, swiping a piece of toast off James’ plate.

“Morning, git,” James shot back, snatching the toast back.

Sirius ignored him, gaze already drifting down the table—searching, waiting—

And there you were.

You were laughing at something Lily had said, your head thrown back slightly, eyes crinkled with amusement. The way you smiled—the way you always did that little thing where you bit your lip slightly when you were trying to suppress a laugh—

Sirius inhaled sharply and immediately looked away.

James, who had never in his life missed an opportunity to be annoying, noticed.

James narrowed his eyes. “What was that?”

Sirius took a bite of his toast. “What was what?”

“That.” James wiggled his eyebrows. “You looked at her like—like—”

“Like he wants to marry her,” Peter supplied unhelpfully.

Sirius choked on his toast.

James gasped. “Oh my god.”

Remus, who had been listening from across the table, sighed. “Please don’t start.”

James pointed his fork at Sirius. “You like her.”

Sirius, still recovering from his near-death experience, wiped his mouth and glared. “I do not.”

James grinned. “You do.”

“I don’t.”

“You so do.”

“I—” Sirius turned back toward you, ready to prove a point, ready to do something to remind himself that this was just a game—

And, of course, you were already watching him.

You raised an eyebrow, lips twitching with amusement. Busted.

Sirius swallowed hard. “Shut up, Potter.”

James cackled.

The day went on as always. Classes, quidditch practice, pranks.

At night, the castle was quiet, the corridors nearly empty as Sirius found himself walking beside you after curfew.

It had been an accident, really—one of those oh, you’re here too? kind of moments. You would both been sneaking back to the dorms after separate misadventures and had somehow fallen into step beside each other.

You weren’t even teasing anymore. Not really. Just talking.

And Merlin help him, Sirius liked it.

He liked the way your voice softened when you talked about things you loved. He liked the way you sighed dramatically every time he said something mildly ridiculous. He liked the way you walked—confident, effortless, like she owned every damn corridor of this castle.

And he liked—

Oh.

Oh shit.

“Sirius?”

He blinked. “Hmm?”

You studied him for a moment, eyes glinting with curiosity. “You okay? You looked like you were having an existential crisis just now.”

He scoffed. “Please, I don’t do existential crises.”

You smirked. “You sure? Because you definitely looked like you were having a moment.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “I was just… thinking.”

You gasped dramatically. “Thinking? You?”

He huffed a laugh. “You’re hilarious.”

“I know.”

There was a pause—a comfortable, easy silence.

And then you nudged him lightly with your shoulder. “You never answered.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Answered what?”

“What you were thinking about.”

His stomach flipped.

He could lie. He should lie.

But instead, he just—

He looked at you.

And damn it all, he knew.

He had known for a while.

Sirius cleared his throat, stalling. “Oh, you know. Just deep, profound thoughts about life and the mysteries of the universe.”

You shot him a knowing look. “Uh-huh. And by that, you mean?”

He smirked, hands tucking into his pockets. “Why the bloody hell Filch still uses oil lamps when we have lumos.”

You rolled your eyes but laughed, shaking your head. “Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant, Black. Truly, your intellect knows no bounds.”

“Glad you noticed,” he quipped, nudging you back lightly.

And then it happened again—that lull. That moment of easy silence that should have been awkward but wasn’t. It was almost… nice.

Because you were watching him—really watching him—with those knowing eyes of yours. And maybe he was imagining it, but your usual teasing smirk wasn’t there. Instead, there was something softer, something curious, like you were actually interested in his answer.

Sirius hated it.

Because it meant something had changed.

He wasn’t supposed to enjoy your company like this. He wasn’t supposed to find it fun to just walk and talk with you without trying to one-up each other. He wasn’t supposed to feel his chest tighten slightly when you laughed at something genuine he said, rather than some over-the-top flirtation.

Merlin’s bloody beard, he was in trouble.

And he definitely wasn’t supposed to notice the way the moonlight caught in your hair, or how your eyes sparkled when you were amused, or how—

“You’re doing it again,” you observed, voice teasing but gentle.

Sirius blinked, forcing himself back to reality. “Doing what?”

“Thinking too hard,” you said, nudging him again. “That’s twice in one night. Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine,” he insisted, maybe a little too quickly.

Before Sirius could even attempt to come up with something—something witty, something that would push this moment back into the realm of teasing where it was safe—the sharp sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor.

They both froze.

Filch.

Sirius grabbed her wrist without thinking, tugging you into the nearest alcove. You barely had time to press yourselves against the stone wall before Filch’s lamp light flickered against the opposite wall, his grumbling voice growing louder.

Sirius could feel your breath against his neck, warm and too close. You were right there, pressed against him, your body tucked between his and the cold castle wall, and Merlin’s bloody beard, this was not helping his already spiraling thoughts.

You shifted slightly, just enough to glance at him, your lips dangerously close to his jaw. “Well, this is cozy,” you whispered.

Sirius huffed a quiet laugh, though his heart was hammering. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

You smirked, your voice low, teasing. “Maybe.”

Filch’s footsteps paused just outside the alcove.

Sirius didn’t breathe.

Neither did you.

For a moment, it was just the sound of Filch’s muttering, the flicker of the lamp light, the distant creak of the castle settling.

Then, mercifully, the footsteps started moving again, fading into the distance.

You exhaled slowly. “That was close.”

Sirius turned his head slightly, the movement bringing his lips just a fraction closer to yours. “Too close,” he murmured.

You were looking at him now, your eyes catching the faint glow of the lantern light. There was something different in them—something Sirius couldn’t quite place, but felt deep in his chest.

You weren't smirking anymore.

And neither was he.

The air between you shifted.

Your gaze flickered to his lips—so fast he might have imagined it, but Merlin, he hoped he didn’t.

His grip on your waist tightened slightly, just for a second. He could lean in. He could close the space. He could—

Footsteps again.

You jumped apart.

This time, it was Peeves, floating lazily through the corridor, humming some dreadful little tune to himself.

Sirius exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, trying to gather himself. When he turned back to you, you were watching him with an unreadable expression.

Then, because you were you, you smirked.

“Almost had a moment there, Black.”

Sirius, still feeling the ghost of her warmth against him, forced a grin. “You wish.”

But his heart was still pounding.

Not a game anymore.

It had been building.

For weeks, maybe even months. The teasing, the flirting, the lingering glances, the casual touches that weren’t so casual anymore. Every moment had been leading up to this—an inevitable collision of something they both had tried (and failed) to ignore.

And, as it turned out, there was only so much tension two people could handle before something snapped.

You were alone in the Gryffindor common room—again. It had become your place, their quiet retreat when everyone else had gone to bed. Sirius lounged on the couch, legs stretched out, hands behind his head, exuding obnoxious levels of confidence.

You sat beside him, one knee tucked under you, arms crossed, watching him with amusement.

Sirius smirked. “You stare at me an awful lot, love. Starting to think you actually fancy me.”

You scoffed. “Please. I stare at you the same way someone stares at a particularly dumb puppy.”

Sirius gasped, hand flying to his chest. “You wound me.”

You smirked. “You deserve it.”

“Oh, come on,” he drawled, shifting so he was closer to you. “Admit it. You think I’m irresistible.”

You rolled your eyes. “You wish.”

“I know,” he shot back, winking.

And that—that damn wink—was the final straw.

Because Sirius Black was—

Infuriating.

Cocky.

Too smug for his own good.

And yet, for some stupid, ridiculous, absolutely insane reason—

You wanted him.

And you wanted him to shut up.

So, without thinking, without hesitating, without any of your usual control—

You grabbed the collar of his stupid perfectly rumpled shirt—

And kissed him.

Sirius made a muffled sound of surprise—because, to be fair, he had not expected that.

But then—

Oh.

Oh, he liked this.

Your hands were tangled in his shirt, holding him in place like you were daring him to move away (as if he ever would ). His mind short-circuited, all thoughts completely gone except for you.

And Merlin, you kissed like you meant it.

Like you had been holding back just as much as he had.

Like you knew this had been coming all along.

Sirius reacted instinctively—one hand moving to the back of your neck, the other gripping your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss, savoring the way you melted into him—

And, bloody hell, he was gone.

He stared at you, breathing heavily, lips tingling, brain struggling to catch up.

When you finally pulled back (too soon, far too soon), Sirius was dazed.

You smirked. “Finally shut you up.”

Sirius blinked.

And then—

He grinned.

“Oh, love,” he murmured, voice lower than before, hands still on her waist, “if that’s how you plan to shut me up, I’m never stopping.”

You laughed—breathless, amused, maybe even a little shaken—but you didn’t move away.

Sirius tilted his head. “You liked that.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So did you.”

Sirius smirked. “Obviously.”

A pause.

A shift.

The air between you still charged, still crackling with something you could no longer ignore.

And then—

“Are we going to talk about this?” you asked, voice softer now.

Sirius exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Honestly?” He met your gaze, something real in his expression. “I have no idea what to say.”

You hummed. “Good. Me neither.”

Another pause.

Another glance at your lips.

And then—

Sirius smirked. “Wanna do it again?”

You rolled your eyes—but then you grabbed his tie and pulled him in for another kiss.

And this time, neither of you were pretending.

You both didn’t stop at just one kiss.

Or two.

Or three.

It was impossible to stop when every touch, every kiss, every breath made you want more.

Sirius wasn’t sure how much time had passed—minutes? Hours? A lifetime?—before you finally broke apart, still tangled up in each other on the Gryffindor common room couch.

You were curled into his side, head resting against his shoulder, your fingers lazily tracing patterns over the fabric of his shirt. Sirius had one arm slung around your waist, holding you way too close for someone who was definitely not in love.

(Except he absolutely was).

The fire crackled in the silence, casting flickering shadows around the room.

Neither of you spoke for a long time.

And that was the problem.

Because now—now, you both actually had to deal with this.

Sirius was screwed.

Absolutely, entirely, undeniably screwed.

Because less than twelve hours after the greatest (and most terrifying) kiss of his life, the Marauders found out.

And they did not take it well.

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

Sirius winced as James’ very loud, very dramatic voice echoed through the dormitory.

Peter, wide-eyed, turned to Remus. “I knew something was up!”

Remus smirked knowingly. “Oh, we all knew.”

James, meanwhile, was pacing the room like a madman. “Okay, okay, hold on—” He spun on Sirius. “You kissed her?”

Sirius sighed. “Yes.”

James pointed aggressively. “And you liked it?”

Sirius scowled. “Obviously.”

Peter gasped. “Oh, no.”

Remus snorted. “Oh, yes.”

James took a deep breath, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Pads…” He grinned. “You like her.”

Sirius froze.

And that—that tiny moment of hesitation—was all they needed.

James screamed.

Peter looked shocked.

Remus looked entirely too smug.

Sirius groaned. “For Merlin’s sake, I don’t—”

James tackled him onto the bed. “YOU’RE IN LOVE.”

Sirius nearly threw his pillow at him. “I am not in love.”

Remus, sitting across from them, raised an eyebrow. “You do realize you’ve spent every waking moment with her lately, right?”

Peter nodded. “And you don’t even flirt with other girls anymore.”

James smirked. “And you look at her like she hung the bloody moon.”

Sirius scowled. “I do not.”

James leaned back, arms behind his head. “You know what? I think we should all start placing new bets.”

“Oh, do tell,” Remus said dryly.

James grinned. “I bet he admits he loves her by the end of the month.”

Sirius choked. “I don’t—”

“Oh, come on, Pads,” James interrupted. “It’s so obvious.”

Peter nodded. “You’re, like, way too soft around her now.”

Sirius scowled. “I am not—”

“You literally tucked her hair behind her ear yesterday,” Remus said flatly.

Sirius froze.

James and Peter howled with laughter.

“HE KNOWS!” James cackled. “HE KNOWS HE’S SCREWED!”

Sirius groaned, running a hand down his face. “I hate all of you.”

James smirked. “No, you hate yourself for falling so hard.”

The truth.

Sirius had never been nervous before.

Not really.

Not in a way that mattered.

But now? Now, as he stood in the dimly lit common room, watching you sit cross-legged on the couch, waiting for him to say something, his heart was pounding.

Because this was it. This was the moment he decided to stop being a bloody coward and actually talk to you.

No more hiding. No more pretending.

Just… the truth.

Sirius exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "So, um… I need to tell you something."

You raised an eyebrow, amused. "That sentence is never a good sign."

Sirius smirked. "Depends on your definition of ‘good,’ love."

You rolled your eyes. "Alright, Black. Out with it."

Sirius hesitated. He could still back out, still pretend nothing had changed between you—

But he didn’t want to.

He took a breath. “The whole flirting thing… the game we were playing.” He met your gaze. “It started because of a bet.”

You didn’t even blink. “I know.”

Sirius frowned. “Wait—what?”

You smirked. “I know about your little bet with James.”

Sirius groaned, rubbing his temples. “Of course you do.”

You eyes sparkled with mischief. “Did you really think James Potter could keep his mouth shut about something that entertaining?”

“Merlin,” Sirius muttered. “I should have.”

You laughed, then tilted your head. “Why are you telling me this now?”

Sirius hesitated again—but only for a second. “Because it’s not a game to me anymore.” He met your gaze, something real in his expression. “I like you. And I didn’t want this to be built on a stupid bet.”

You didn't speak immediately. Just studied him, like she were assessing him.

Sirius forced himself to keep his usual bravado at bay, to let you see him instead of the version of himself he usually put on for the world.

And then—

You smiled.

A real, genuine smile.

“Well,” you said lightly, “that’s interesting.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

You bit your lip, amusement dancing in your expression. “Because, Black… I had a bet too.”

Sirius blinked. “What?”

You grinned. “James bet me that I couldn’t make you fall for me.”

Sirius froze.

His brain short-circuited.

And then—

“I’m going to kill him.”

You cackled, clapping your hands. “Oh, this is perfect.”

Sirius groaned, sinking onto the couch beside you. “James bloody Potter.” He looked at you, half-amused, half-furious. “You knew?”

You nodded, smug. “Of course.”

Sirius threw his hands in the air. “James set us up.”

You shrugged. “And it worked.”

Sirius opened his mouth—then paused.

Because—

Oh, Merlin.

It did work.

He turned to look at you. “You actually like me?”

You rolled your eyes. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

Sirius scoffed. “Because you were supposed to be the one hopelessly falling for me.”

You smirked. “Guess James was right, then.”

Sirius groaned. “I hate him.”

You nudged him playfully. “No, you don’t.”

He sighed dramatically. “Fine. I love him. But I also hate him.”

You laughed, then reached out, twining your fingers through his. “For what it’s worth,” you said softly, “I was never playing a game with you. Not really.”

Sirius’ heart stuttered.

Because this—this was real.

And it was terrifying.

And he loved it.

He turned your hand over in his, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “Yeah?”

You smiled. “Yeah.”

Sirius swallowed, something tight in his throat. “So what do we do now?”

You grinned. “Well, first—” you leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. “—you kiss me again.”

Sirius smirked. “Oh, darling, I thought you’d never ask.”

And this time, when he kissed you, there was no bet, no game—

Just the both of you.

The aftermath.

It quickly became common knowledge that Sirius and his girlfriend (which still sounded insane to him) were the most ridiculous couple to ever exist.

Because while other couples held hands and whispered sweet nothings, Sirius and you—

Well.

You teased each other, you flirted relentlessly, annoyed each other and at the same time also had your soft moments.

James Potter deeply regretted his life choices.

Because here’s the thing—when he first made the bets, it was supposed to be hilarious. Watching Sirius try (and fail) to seduce someone who actually gave him a challenge? Comedy gold.

Watching you break Sirius Black’s unshakable confidence? Even better.

And then, somehow, those two idiots actually fell for each other.

Now, every single day, James had to deal with this.

James sat at the Gryffindor table, glaring across the Great Hall.

At you both.

Sirius had an arm slung lazily around your waist, smirking as you stole food from his plate like it belonged to you.

You weren't even subtle about it. You would just reach over, pluck a piece of toast from his hand, and take a bite without breaking eye contact.

Sirius, instead of protesting like a normal person, grinned and leaned in. “Careful, darling,” he murmured, voice low. “If you keep stealing from me, I might have to take something from you.”

You smirked. “Oh? And what exactly would you take, Black?”

Sirius’ smirk widened. “Guess you’ll have to find out.”

You just shook your head and smiled, he reached out to take a sip of tea from your cup. It was strange how comfortable you were around each other.

You yawned, resting your head in his shoulder, the moment quickly shifting from teasing to softness. This was the kind of thing that always happened between you, you could just go from full on annoying each other to the cutest moment ever.

"Tired, baby?" Sirius whispered, his fingers caressing your hip softly. His voice soft.

You had a small smile in your lips. "It's all your fault and that horrible Muggle game"

"You were the one that kept asking for a rematch" Sirius grinned, letting a soft kiss in your hair.

James slammed his fork onto the table. “I hate this.”

You and Sirius came out of your love bubble, looking at James while trying to hold back the laughter. James was definitely regretting his life decisions.

Remus, barely looking up from his plate, hummed. “No, you don’t.”

James gestured wildly. “They’re so annoying.”

Peter snorted. “They’re exactly the same as before. Just… more obnoxious.”

Sirius turned to James, absolutely radiating smugness. “Something wrong, Prongs?”

James scowled. “Yeah. You two.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Why, James, I thought you wanted us to be together.”

“I take it back.”

Sirius chuckled, pressing a ridiculously over-the-top kiss to the top of you head just to piss James off more. “Too late.”

James groaned, flopping onto the table dramatically. “This is hell.”

Remus patted his back. “You did bring this upon yourself.”

James let out a miserable sigh. “Worst idea ever.”

[utilitycaster]

So I saw a post that asked the question why the Gau Drashari didn't just intervene when Avalir started shorting the tithe, and it made me realize a certain mentality present in a lot of fandom discussions as of late, so I'll answer that and then move into the more general case.

The answer is of course we don't know specifically why, but the implications of that response are, to be blunt, pretty wild. The Gau Drashari did have an insurance against this; that is the Pact of Crown and Throne. The shorted tithe was a fairly recent development. This also does not consider the responsibilities and numbers of the Gau Drashari, and in general removes all responsibility from the wizards of Avalir.

This does not, to be clear, mean the Gau Drashari hold no responsibility; but the idea of "why don't the Good People Who Knows What's Right Stop The Bad Thing From Happening" relies on a few assumptions that, if left unchecked, become dangerous. The first, and one I won't go into as much depth in this post, is of course that when we're talking about fiction, the bad thing often does need to happen for plot reasons. If your standard is "why has anyone in this story ever let anything bad happen" (and to be clear, I do not think that was the intent of the specific post that sparked this, but it certainly is an argument some people make) then you are absolutely incapable of having a conversation about narrative. The more serious one is one of agency, responsibility, and stewardship, and I'll define those below but in short, is the person who bears responsibility for an ill consequence the person who directly caused it? Or the person who failed to stop them? Can responsibility be shared? And if it is shared, who must act? Is authoritarianism right so long as the Good People are doing it? [it's not, but that is the logical endpoint of this mentality.]

Now, I started writing this prior to the wrap-up, but the idea that the Ring of Brass shared responsibility was explicitly stated; the idea was to have PCs who made it clear this was a “cascading disaster”, not just Vespin Chloras as history’s lone greatest villain. This is explicitly discussed in the text as well by Vespin in his moment of clarity; he knows how he will be remembered, whether or not it is entirely true, and hopes the Ring of Brass will have the mercy of being forgotten, rather than remembered as complicit. Between Patia’s orb and Cerrit, they may have a third option: to be remembered as both complicit and also those who gave their lives in sacrifice to save as many as they could.

The Ring of Brass, indeed, is an excellent opportunity to describe agency, responsibility, and stewardship. Agency in this context is the ability to act - the ability to make choices and act upon them. The Ring of Brass, as important but in many cases less public figures (or public figures with room for a private life, at least). The Ring of Brass make many decisions and are largely free to make them. Responsibility is not just about the outcome of those decisions - responsibility means what you are supposed to be doing - your commitments, your contracts, your promises - but also what you have done - what outcomes were the results of your actions. Laerryn is responsible for maintaining the arcane devices of the Meridian Labyrinth; she is also the one responsible for diverting arcane energy from the Arboreal Calix to power the Astral Leywright. She is responsible, at least in part, for the destruction of the Tree of Names, and the loss of its protection. She is also responsible for the mitigation of the worst case scenario of Calamity by using the Leywright to divert the titans under Cathmoira.

Stewardship is a special type of responsibility. Stewardship is not about the consequences of your own actions, necessarily; a steward takes on responsibility for something that might not be their creation or a mess that might not be their fault. It is an assumption of a mantle of responsibility for something one did not necessarily cause; it’s freed from the two-way street of “responsibility.” Indeed, this comes up specifically at the end of EXU Divergence, which serves as a bookend to both Calamity and to the start of Critical Role; The Platinum Dragon tells the All-Hammer that “it is time we entrust our children to be stewards of this world you created.” Or as was said in the wrap-up about the nature of society after the Divergence, “every single person shares an equal slice of responsibility for building.” This is a responsibility for a destruction many of them did not participate in; indeed, the three mortal PCs and many of the NPCs spent most of their time focusing on survival in the cataclysmic world they were born into. They are not responsible for the destruction or these circumstances; but they are responsible for - stewards of - rebuilding when it ends. It is a task to which they admirably rise.

One needs agency to be responsible, either in the space where responsibility overlaps with stewardship - in performing necessary duties or actions - or in the space where responsibility means that an outcome is the result of one’s choices. If you truly have no space to act and no choices to make, you cannot in any way affect the world, for good or ill; you cannot be held responsible. Similarly, having agency grants some measure of responsibility. It may be a small measure; but it is a measure nonetheless. Now, I think true non-agency is vanishingly rare; but I think there is an unfortunate faction on the internet that wishes it upon their favorite characters and upon themselves as an escape from the possibility of being tasked with responsibility and therefore criticism - how can one be criticized if one is never responsible?

Unfortunately for them, I find few things more loathsome than a shirking or denial of one’s responsibility. To sacrifice agency as self-protection is ultimately a losing game in real life - you will, inevitably, wish for that agency when the protection runs out, and the initial sacrifice is still a choice for which you are responsible - but again, I think true non-agency is rare and most cases are merely a case shirking or evading - passing the buck, as one might say. Saying “well why didn’t someone stop me from doing the bad thing - I didn’t know” is a particularly loathsome specific case of this loathsome practice. Returning to that first example, Laerryn undeniably does have agency (and to her credit, she never claims she doesn’t); if she does not know the purpose for the tithe that is information she could have tried to obtain, and likely had the resources to do so given the power to which she had access. She chose not to; choosing not to do something is still a choice.

On the other side of the coin, the prisoners of Rybad-Kol do have harshly restricted agency but they are not without it, and they consistently choose to exercise it in service of resistance, whether it is Nia trying to push the limits of her scrap of power as a medic to save as many people as possible, or Fiedra developing a plan to rescue Crokas, or Garen introducing structural flaws in the oubliettes. It is very little, but at no point do they collapse to the ground and declare themselves powerless victims of circumstance, however wretched and unfair to them the circumstances may be.

To round out the Calamity-era trilogy I must cover Downfall, which is, I think, the most thorough exploration of what it means to be responsible, in all senses of the word. I think an unstated theme is that the Prime Deities must constantly ask themselves “should I have stopped mortals from doing the bad thing” and balancing that granting of agency and stewardship to mortals with their own responsibility. As with Calamity it too is a cascading disaster of multiple people’s flawed choices; and as with Calamity, the group of PCs ultimately decide to take on this responsibility and mitigate it, knowing it is not enough, that many will die, and that better choices could have been made earlier, but again not collapsing to the ground in despair. The Divine Gate is a creation born from this sense of responsibility - that the best choice they can make is to leave, knowing it too is imperfect and harmful.

Campaigns 1 and 2 are also explorations thereof, and many of the characters are defined by taking on responsibilities for things that are the result of actions over which they had limited control - at least a partial loss of agency. Percy’s creation of the gun was in part due to external influence, and its spread across Exandria the result of Ripley, in a very direct case of him failing to stop her; he sees it as his fault and endeavors to be a better person as a result. Vax intended his promise to be a simple trade of his own life, but accepted, instead, a divine duty. Keyleth rose to leadership despite her insecurities and despite it being a responsibility she had little opportunity to abandon, and in doing so also accepted that she might need to live with imperfect action. Caleb, Fjord, Yasha, and Veth were all put into situations of external influence, and all set out with the intention of learning more or making things right; the parties as whole accepted responsibility for situations that were in no way their doing or for which they truly had no way of knowing the outcome.

One may be able to see where this is going, which is, of course, the ascension of responsibility-shirking and agency denial in Campaign 3. I think the first sign of this mentality among the fandom rearing its head is, of course, the gnarlrock fight. In it, Laudna (as controlled by Delilah) destroys the gnarlrock. Imogen gave it to her and asked her not to do anything to it, and after this, it was broken. Now, was it Laudna’s intent to break it? No. Is it still her responsibility because it resulted from her actions? Yes, in the way that if you accidentally knocked over someone’s expensive sculpture and broke it, they would likely find you responsible even though that was not your intent. This is not a difficult concept, and yet it recurred endlessly (and especially but not exclusively with Imogen and Laudna; discussed here and more recently here.) Indeed, in the specific case of the gnarlrock it raised a question of “are you taking responsibility for the fact that Delilah can overtake your body and cause you to do harm”, which I would say she did not. The idea that it was Orym’s responsibility to stop Laudna, and not Laudna’s responsibility to stop herself, was a similar case. And overall, this attitude became the calling card of many of Bells Hells’ defenders: how dare you ask the party to consider other people’s feelings? How dare you expect them to put themselves at risk? How dare you expect them to understand that they now wield power?

This attitude, as discussed above, has the opposite effect on me; saying “well they had trauma harm they do isn’t their fault” is a condemnation of a character, not a defense, and makes me think even less of them. The idea that abstention from a choice recuses one from responsibility is itself a form of shirking and therefore is, as said before, loathsome and repulsive. Not knowing or even not intending is relevant in discussions of someone’s character, but they are still responsible for the outcomes of actions in ignorance.

I would be remiss to not briefly address this as a mentality outside of fandom, or within fan-to-fan interactions. I’ve more than once received, in response to me asking someone not to spoil something within my tags, the response “How was I supposed to know.” Firstly, it’s in my pinned post and you could ask, but secondly, this is not a defense that will enamor you to me. You didn’t know. You know now. You are still responsible for this action. Correct it. And more generally I think the combination of self-diagnosed non-agency and “why didn’t the good people stop the bad people?” is all too common in a lot of political discussions. If your interpretation of “no ethical consumption under capitalism” is not “do your best but don’t berate yourself for imperfect action” but rather “you can do whatever”, are you someone who is prepared - and indeed, willing to work for - the fall of capitalism? Or are you secretly glad to have an excuse to shirk one’s ethical responsibility? Are you secretly glad to be able to blame the “good” people for not stopping the bad people because the responsibility of fighting the bad people is a much greater one, even though in doing so you separate yourself from the good people and, simultaneously, do absolutely nothing?

This idea again of the good people being responsible for stopping the bad ones is also I think at the core of the dislike of the gods that Bells Hells and some of their defenders hold. If everything is the fault of the gods not stepping in, then no one else has agency and no one else can be responsible for anything and you can never blame anyone else. This of course leads to the incoherence demonstrated here; are the gods an ultimate good then, to be granted this responsibility, or an ultimate evil to not use it to override all mortal actions? If everything is the gods’ fault and responsibility, then nothing can be Bells Hells’ fault. This, of course, however, brings up the question: so why am I watching some people who apparently can’t do anything when I could be watching the far more interesting entities with freedom to act? Is it not more compelling to follow the story of the gods, faced with no choice that will ever absolve them, still try to make choices that help as many people as they can, than to follow some people tediously avoid making a decision until a god tells them they can’t put it off any longer?

The fall of Avalir is designed to be a failure on many separate points, for which many are responsible. The Ring of Brass are among them; they become heroic through taking on the responsibility of mitigation. To defend a party’s failure to rise to their responsibilities or assume stewardship, and to blame some other power for failing to intercede is to forfeit their heroic and indeed, protagonist status.

[spcartmanweek]

💛 Welcome to Cartman Week 2025! Cartman Week is a character appreciation week celebrating the one and only Eric Cartman! The event will run from February 10th - February 16th. We accept and encourage all types of fanwork including fanart, fanfiction, playlists, edits, and graphics.

🩵 Make sure to tag your posts #CartmanWeek2025 so we can find and share your work!

✍️ For writers we have an AO3 collection under the name “CartmanWeek2025”. To add your fic to the collection, type that name into the “Post to Collections/Challenges” input box when adding your work, and it should appear.

❤️ Late submissions will be accepted, as will entries posted on the “wrong” day! We will be sharing submissions up to one month after the event ends.

💛 If you have any questions, feel free to send us an ask!

🩵 Don't forget to read our carrd for more information. You can also find us on Bluesky and Twitter/X!

❤️ Read ahead for a written list of prompts with explanations. Remember: You can be as loose with the prompts as you want, and you can mix-and-match as you see fit. It’s up to your interpretation. Have fun!

Day 1 | Toys / Favorite Snacks

★ Toys - After all, this is a guy who loves his dollies and action figures. This prompt is dedicated to Cartman and his toys! Tea parties, cowboy shootouts, complex and tragic murder mysteries… Get creative!

★ Favorite Snacks - Cheesy poofs, Snacky Cakes, cereal bombs… This prompt is all about Cartman enjoying his favorite snacks, however you would like to portray it.

Day 2 | Fun Day Out / Animals

★ Fun Day Out - This one is self-explanatory! A fun day out could be to Casa Bonita or to a theme park or just a nice day with all his friends who love him soooo much.

★ Animals - Animals can be anything from Cartman spending time with his pets (Mr. Kitty and/or Fluffy the pig) to portraying Cartman as an animal, furry, or kemonomimi.

Day 3 | Fighting / Scheme

★ Fighting - This guy will fight with anyone, so let’s see it! It could be a fight between Cartman and a known rival like Kyle or Wendy, or a fight with his mom, the school, the government, the world!

★ Scheme - He’s always scheming, this one… This prompt can be dedicated to a plot he’s already devised on the show, or a brand new nasty trick from your imagination.

Day 4 | Family / Fate

★ Family - Cartman and family! Liane, Scott Tenorman, a bowl of chili, Post COVID Cartman with his wife and kids, or your own AU family/fankids!

★ Fate - What this prompt means is up to your interpretation. The fate of Cartman’s future, the red string of fate with your favorite ship… There is no wrong answer!

Day 5 | Valentine’s Day / Alter-ego

★ Valentine’s Day - Today is Valentine’s Day, and we picked this week to dedicate to our favorite matchmaker because of it! Is his day as wonderful as he always hoped? Or a complete disaster? You decide!

★ Alter-ego - A man of many personalities. From Cupid Me to Mitch Conner to wizard Cartman and beyond. This prompt is dedicated to your favorite Cartman alias!

Day 6 | Dress-up / Performance

★ Dress-up - A prompt to get fancy with! Drag, costumes, formal attire, etc. Pick your favorite Cartman outfit or design/describe a new one!

★ Performance - This prompt is dedicated to Cartman’s love of outlandish performance! Some examples are Cartman with one of his various musical pursuits (Fingerbang, Faith +1, Moop), theater, or pairing this prompt with dress-up!

Day 7 | Free Day

★ Free Day - Our final day is a free day! Whateva, whateva, you do what you want!

[delightful-chaos-collection]

Douxie Headcannons

● He is a terrible cook. Not as bad as Barbra but he can only cook basic things. That why he eats a lot of take out and instant ramen. Jim is horrified

● He's not a fan of horror movies. Zoe makes him watch cause his reactions are funny.

● Douxie loves music. All types of music not just punk. Jazz, pop, blues etc. He loves all genres of music and while his main is a guitar, he can also play the banjo, the flute, acoustic guitar, bagpipes, the accordion and the trumpet.

● He has not been all over the world. Yes, he has been to a lot of places in the world but not all of them. He tried to lay low for a long time and has moved around but he's mainly stayed in Europe most of the time. He avoided getting involved in world politics, wars etc. While he joined the occasional protest, he really tried to keep it low

● He has not been to all the major historical events. There is a trope with immortals that they were present at EVERY major historical moment in history and had relationships with every major historical figure. But nope, not Douxie. He's been to like 3 but otherwise, he's either doing his own thing, like monster hunting, learning instruments, playing at concerts or just staying under the radar and living.

● He's also only had a handful of relationships. Like you would imagine he had a lot of relationships but actually he only had a few. Like 7 or 8 relationships. He has fallen for two mortals and the relationships didn't end when they find out he's a wizard, they freak out and break up with him and call him a devil spawn. He also dated a few other immortal wizards of his physical and mental age but after some time they broke up. His longest relationship was with an immortal which lasted for 4 years.

● He is desperate for love and validation. He loves Archie but this is a different kind of love, but he is also terrified of relationships because of his past ones.

● He's stuck. Like literally he is stuck looking like 19-20 years old physically. He's more mature than a regular 20-year-old and has been through some stuff but even still. Being physically and mentally stuck as a 20-year-old for the rest of your life kind of sucks.

● People constantly talk down to him due to his age, they think he's only trouble and a college dropout and dating kind of sucks because falling in love with a mortal is a big no-no for him because of the whole no-aging thing and he doesn't want to go through that, not again. And there are only a handful of wizards in the world that are actually physically 20 just like him.

● That is why Archie is his best friend. Another immortal, his best friend. who has been with him through so much. he cannot be apart from Archie for more than 2 days otherwise he starts having a panic attack. Archie is his emotional support animal both to Douxie and legally.

● He's a massive bisexual disaster

● He loves musicals

● Writes songs and lyrics and poems

● He has a bunch of old diaries that he has kept, which include his own thoughts and feelings. some of which is severally depressing

● He has severe abandonment issues. with how Merlin kind of just left him for 900 years. him being an ageless immortal in a world that changes so often with people that grow old and leave him.

● Has a of anxiety and insecurities. His mental health is not the best in the world. He keeps it hidden

● Most of his socks are those fluffy cat claw socks. He loves wearing them. It's honestly unironic.

[serenastark-official]

🖤✨ 02: How to Not Ship People: A PSA from Serena Stark ✨🖤

Alright, Tumblr, we need to talk. Specifically about the very weird habit some of you have of shipping me with literally everyone I’ve ever shared air with—and I mean everyone—from Stephen to Wong to TONY to Peter to Dani to Laurya (like, seriously??).

And no, this isn't a "How to Ship Serena Stark" guide (because apparently, everyone on here thinks they’re qualified to play matchmaker)

Understand the Basics of Platonic Relationships

Not every interaction means romance, folks. Sometimes, people can just...I don’t know...exist in the same room without being soulmates.

For example:

Stephen Strange? My best friend and highly respected mentor. Not my boyfriend. Not my soulmate. Last time I checked, calling someone “Old Man Wizard” every five minutes isn’t exactly romantic. I can’t even get through a conversation without him lecturing me on the multiverse and responsibility. Romance level: zero. Also, he calls me “kid,” so that’s basically “I’m your dad now” territory.

Tony Stark? That’s my dad, y’all. MY DAD. Did we skip basic human decency 101? This isn’t Game of Thrones. Sit down.

Wong? Look, I respect the guy. Love him even (in a totally platonic way). But the man is way too busy dealing with magical disasters to worry about me. Plus, I’m not about to ruin his zen vibe. We’re too busy exchanging takis, not vows.

Peter Parker? Do you people hear yourselves when you type? Peter can’t even win a staring contest with me—how would he handle dating me? As I said already, he's my too-kind-to-be-a-real-kid brother.

Daniella Romanoff? Practically my sister. (Though she could definitely crush me in a fight, I’m not even gonna lie.) She’s got enough trauma to handle, she doesn’t need me adding fuel to the shipping fire.

Laurya? I can practically hear you all— “Oh, they’re so close! It’s so obvious! Sisterly love... or, y’know, whatever!” NO. She is literally my sister in arms, not in love. If she were reading this right now, she’d be laughing so hard, she’d probably throw a shoe at me. So let’s not, okay?

Bruce Banner? Bruce Banner and me? Are you seriously trying to make that work? Listen, I’m all for the science nerds’ club (believe me, I’m practically a founding member), he’s in the “dad” zone with Tony and Stephen. I don’t need a third one of those.

What next? Are you going to ship me with Jeff, the land shark?!

Now that I’ve screamed into the void, here’s your 101 on how NOT to ship people (especially me):

Step 1: Don't Assume Every Glance = Love Story

Just because I looked at someone for more than 2 seconds doesn’t mean I’m secretly planning our wedding. I could be judging them. I could be plotting their demise. Or I could just be zoning out because I’m thinking about pasta. You don’t know.

Step 2: Don’t assume everything is subtext.

Just because I exchange sarcastic banter with someone doesn’t mean I want to kiss them. Sometimes, I’m just being me. (Which, let’s be honest, is fabulous enough without adding romance into the mix.)

You don’t marry everyone you talk to. Shocking, right? Sometimes, people just have good friendships. Not every bond needs a kiss at the end. I know, mind-blowing.

Step 3: Stop Projecting Your Ships Onto Others

I get it, shipping is fun. But hold your horses. Ask yourself:

Is this ship actually plausible, or am I just bored?

Have I considered how weird this might be for the people involved?

Would Serena personally come for me for this? (Hint: Yes.)

If you can’t explain it without sounding like a total creep, then just… don’t. My life isn’t your rom-com script, and I’m not auditioning for a Netflix special.

Step 4: Respect Boundaries

If I say “No,” it’s a no. If I roast the ship in public, it’s definitely a no. Stop trying to make me and Tony a thing. That’s therapy-inducing territory, and I already have enough on my plate.

Me and Stephen = Two sarcastic nerds saving the multiverse.

Me and Peter = Sibling energy with a side of web-based competition.

Me and Tony = Snark battles + family dinners.

Me and Laurya = Sisterhood, no strings attached.

Me and Dani = Chaos and platonic love, no ships allowed.

Me and Wong = Team Sorcery and food buddies. (he has a lot of takis in the Sanctum, if you'd be more responsible about your ship, I'd give you some)

Me and Bruce = Science buddies and, he’s already got enough on his plate with, y’know, the Hulk and being an honorary member of the “dad” squad.

Step 5: Focus On YOUR Ships

If you’re feeling the itch to ship someone, look in the mirror. Find your own love story. Or ship Jeff the Land Shark with world domination; he’s working on it anyway.

Step 6: Put that energy to better use.

Instead of shipping me with everyone I’ve ever breathed near, how about you create fanfic where I absolutely obliterate HYDRA agents in a beautifully dramatic showdown?

In conclusion:

Stop it. Get some help. If you keep shipping me with random people, I’ll find you. And I’ll make you explain yourself to my face. Let’s stop pretending every time I make eye contact with someone, we’re about to enter a rom-com montage. Please, for the love of all things sarcastic and logical, stop.

[kathrahender]

My Opinion on Trollhunters

Most of the people that watched this show loved it, and although I also love it, I think it has some flaws.

1-. The inconsistencies in the plot. Of course, during the writing of a show, people can make mistakes, and the writers might forget what they showed in previous episodes. However, one of the most important things about writing a show is to be consistent. To point out some of those mistakes, for example, in Becoming Part 1, Blinky and Aaarrrgghh act as if they didn't know Jim was screaming in terror. Yet in Recipe for Disaster? "Oh, humans ran away from Aaarrrgghh screaming".

2. The development of the characters. A lot of characters were poorly written. Some of them only served as love interests— Darci, who most of the times appeared with Toby and that's all, and Barbara because we don't know anything about her besides the fact that she's a doctor, she loves her son Jim and that she eventually dates Strickler. It would have been great to make her a more interesting character. Other characters, like Claire, felt like Mary Sues: How did she managed to control so easily her magic when it took a while for Jim to be a good trollhunter?

3. The development of the ships. I mentioned this in another post, but the show lacked a good writing when it came to romantic relationships too. Some of the ships felt rushed,(Jlaire, Darby) with very few meaningful scenes that showed their love for each other, Stricklake felt incomplete because the writers didn't show Barbara's transition from "I don't like you for what you did to Jim and me" to "I love you", and Staja was badly written because they just gave development to one of the characters involved in the relationship.

4. The amount of episodes. As a writer, you should know how to write a story so that scenes feel beliavable and not rushed or illogical. The first season was awesome because it had 26 episodes, enough to develop the plot well. But the second and third season? 13 episodes each one, which isn't enough to include everything that could have enriched the series even further.

5. The lore. Apart from the Arcadia Trollmarket, the Hong Kong Trollmarket, the Kruberas, and Gatto, we don't know many types of trolls. We know only a few things about their "mythology" (the stalklings for example) and nothing about their traditions. Besides, we also don't know a lot about changelings. They were born in the Darklands, they were the servants of Gunmar, and... Well, that's all. It would have been interesting to go deeper in some changelings' stories, or go deeper in explain how they were created and when.

6. The villains. In Trollhunters, Bular was only "the son of Gunmar who tried to free him from the Darklands", Gunmar was only "the evil troll who wanted to bring the Eternal Night", and Morgana was only "the evil witch who helped Gunmar". Of course, those characters were a little more developed in Wizards, but overall I feel like the writers wasted their potential. Besides, the thing about Gunmar "being born of a corrupted stone" seems like a way of saying "he's pure evil, deal with it" because the writers didn't want to make him more tridimensional. Apart from that, what they did to the Janus Order was awful. They were important in season 2, as they wanted to free Gunmar, but then in season 3... all the changelings are dead. That's a disrespect, because the Janus Order could have been much more relevant.

7. The lack of inclusion. Darci is black, Mary Wang and Nomura are asian, and there's a lesbian kiss in 3 Below. But all of that is almost irrelevant: Darci is black, but she doesn't get development. Mary Wang is asian, but she has the same problem. Nomura appears more times, but it would have been great to have her in more episodes. And the kiss in 3 Below? Between two girls irrelevant to the plot. Almost every human character in this show is white and straight, and although I can "understand" the mainstream media isn't very inclusive, the writers of this show at least could have given depth to these characters (Darci, Mary and Nomura).

[eponymous-rose]

So I've been playing Baldur's Gate 3 like everyone else and had An Incredibly Wild Combat Experience just now...

(spoilers under the cut for an early-game fight; if you don't care about the game, this is 100% parse-able as a d&d fight)

So there I am with my character Amisra (elf fighter), and a party consisting of Karlach (tiefling barbarian), Astarion (elf/vampire-spawn rogue) and Gale (human wizard). We venture into the lair of a hag to try to rescue this woman she's kidnapped and I'm getting a little blithe when it comes to spell slots and short rests - everyone's starting to look pretty rough, and then there's a long stretch of having to navigate carefully around traps, mostly via jumps that I actually remember to have Feather Fall on this time. "No problem," I think like every D&D player before me, "I'll simply take a long rest before the boss battle." And the game, in its DM-ish wisdom, says, "No, you can't long rest in the lair of an actively hostile enemy, what were you thinking???" and that's how I get into a fight that's way, way over my head.

I'm giving it my best shot, dealing with illusory hag-enemies and complicated terrain, but it's clear this is going to be my first total-party-kill of the game. Several characters have been knocked down and brought back up, and we've been in enough of a bad state that all of our healing potions are gone (leading me to the realization that you can craft in battle, which then leads to all of the crafted potions also being consumed).

The stage is set for disaster: the hag still has half her health (60-something points), and my whole party is out of all spell slots and fancy tricks. Astarion and Karlach are knocked unconscious on the other side of the room via Ray of Sickness, making death saves. Gale and Amisra are in some sort of necrotic zone that's dealing damage every round.

The immediate turn order: Gale, Hag, Amisra. Gale has 1 HP and will be unconscious from the necrotic damage after his turn. Amisra has a whopping 7 HP but is being held in the damage-over-time area by a Hold Person spell she cannot seem to save against. The hag has a perfect shot on everyone in the room.

So I'm sitting there like "well, it was a fun run while it lasted" and trying to remember when I saved last. At this point, I figure I might as well go for a little roleplay flair and try to think of what Gale would do for this, his final turn. Well, he'd look to magic. But, uh, sorry, those cantrips aren't going to deal 60 points of damage and get you out of your current predicament. Too bad.

Hang on. I've picked up so many scrolls, surely there's something there that might be a fun finish. Scroll of Flying? Nah, then I'll just die in midair. Scroll of Ray of Enfeeblement? Yeah, I'm sure she'll be real sad that her melee attacks do marginally less damage as she annihilates us with ranged attacks anyway. Scroll of Feign Death? Who's ever even used that spell successfully in a video game? What would you even--

Wait. Scroll of Feign Death. Resistance to all damage types except psychic, puts the target in a comatose state. Gale's going to be unconscious next round, but Amisra still has 7 HP...

So Gale, very dramatically, pulls out this scroll and casts the spell on Amisra, who Feigns Death very convincingly considering she's frozen on the spot and slowly taking damage. And Gale takes the last burst of damage himself and falls unconscious.

The hag absolutely doesn't stop there and keeps hitting Karlach, Astarion, and Gale until they're dead... but she never targets Amisra. She thinks she's dead. She actually thinks she's dead! And she might be right, as Amisra takes 2 HP and 1 HP of damage each turn, frozen in place...

And the hag just... stops. Everyone is dead, right? Yup, four bodies on the ground. Time to go and do whatever it is hags do for fun. She leaves the battlefield.

And Amisra finally saves against the damage-over-time with One. Frickin'. Hit. Point. Remaining.

I as the player have about 1 HP remaining myself as I fumble frantically to move Amisra out of the dangerous area and manage to remember how to use a mouse in time to cast a Scroll of Revivify on Gale. Two of us, each stumbling around at 1 HP, no other healing available, no idea where the hag is in her lair, the rest of our (very dead) party on the other side of the giant room, and a huge path of traps and treacherous drops to get back to the surface. What can we do but press on, deeper into the lair?

In the next room, which I have never seen before, I am shaking. If there's a trap, we're probably done. I'm too nervous to try looting anything in the room - what if she comes back? And then I see a sparkly fairy circle of mushrooms, looking an awful lot like an exit. No way. NO WAY.

I click that fairy circle so many times and just hold my breath as the two remaining party members stumble to the exit... and promptly appear back in the (slightly less dangerous) bog. The bog where, in its infinite DM-ly kindness, the game finally allows us to make camp, where I can resurrect Karlach and Astarion in peace.

And that's how we avoided a Total Party Kill with the most situational spell scroll use imaginable!

Edit: Also, a tip for when I did go back to fight the hag - a 2nd-level Magic Missile auto-hits up to 4 targets, so if you position Gale toward the middle of the room you can take down all 4 illusory hag-clones in one turn. Ahh, it was nice to have spell slots again.

[mizimuse]

Siblings Circus || Slytherin boys+Pansy edition

1. Draco Malfoy

Draco is literally the sibling who cries over spilled pumpkin juice.

You take the last of the cereal: "Are you trying to starve me?!"

Every tiny thing is a full-blown disaster. Got a higher grade than him? "You’re sabotaging me!"

He’s always snitching to your parents: "Father will hear about this... and so will mother, the house-elf, and probably the entire Wizarding World."

You can’t even argue with him because he ends every fight with, "It’s because I’m the older one!."

You: "Draco, it’s literally just socks."

Draco (clutching his pearls): "You wouldn’t understand!"

2. Theodore Nott

Theo never argues, but you’ll suddenly get in trouble for things you didn’t even know he noticed.

You: "How did mom find out I skipped Potions?"

Theo (smirking while reading a book): "Don’t know. Must be magic."

He’s also the king of saying nothing but judging everything.

You: "Do you ever clean up after yourself?"

Theo (with a shrug): "Do you?"

When you try to argue, he just gives you a single eyebrow raise and goes back to his book like you're not worth the oxygen.

3. Mattheo Riddle

Mattheo is the sibling who wakes you up at 3 a.m. with: "Let’s duel, right now."

He’s constantly getting you into trouble and laughing while you suffer.

You (dodging hexes): "Can you calm down?!"

Mattheo (grinning like a maniac): "Nah, this is fun!"

If something breaks, it’s 100% his fault, but somehow, you get blamed.

You: "Mum’s gonna kill us!"

Mattheo: "You mean, you. I’m innocent."

He lives for chaos and will start fights just to see how mad you’ll get. "Bet you can’t throw a better hex than me."

4. Blaise Zabini

Blaise acts like nothing in the world bothers him, but somehow you always end up doing his chores.

You: "Why am I cleaning your room?"

Blaise: "Because you love me. And also, I bribed you with chocolate frogs."

He never panics—even when everything is falling apart.

You (freaking out): "Mum is going to flip out when she sees this mess!"

Blaise (not even looking up): "Nah, that's a you problem.'"

He’s also impossible to prank.

You (trying to hex his shoes): "Why aren’t you reacting?!"

Blaise (yawning): "Because I saw this coming an hour ago."

5. Lorenzo Berkshire

Lorenzo is that sibling who can be half asleep, totally unprepared, but still smarter than you.

You: "Did you study for the test?"

Lorenzo (yawning): "What test?"

Yet somehow, he always aces it. It’s actually infuriating.

You (gritting your teeth): "How do you keep getting top marks?"

Lorenzo (shrugging): "Dunno. Gifted, I guess."

He also never gets up on time, and you end up dragging him everywhere while he’s still half asleep.

You (knocking on his door): "We’re late!"

Lorenzo (muffled): "We’ll be on time… eventually."

6. Pansy Parkinson

Pansy’s the sibling who’s always borrowing (aka stealing) your clothes and claiming they look better on her.

You: "Is that my sweater?"

Pansy: "Yes, but let’s be honest, I pull it off way better."

She’ll also sass her way out of every chore and somehow get away with it.

Mum: "Pansy, why aren’t you cleaning?"

Pansy (smiling): "Because I’m delicate and chores are bad for my complexion."

She’s the type to start drama, then sit back and watch it unfold while sipping tea.

[sitp-recs]

Heyyy Liv!!! I check your blog everyday btw it's a beautiful distraction from studying. Anyway, I also read the most he's ever said and maybe not with a situationship, but do you know fics that have similar issues - them having some kind of toxic relationship, unresolved issues (that get resolved heh) or maybe miscommunication? Doesn't necessarily have to be fwb. Thank youuuuu xxxxx

Hi anon! I’m so happy to hear you enjoy the blog 💜 I’m a bit picky about toxic relationships but I think these are a good fit for your ask. Most of them are friends with benefits tbh, love that trope. Enjoy! 😊

Between Two Fires of Beltane by secretsalex (E, 5k)

As the war drags on, Draco becomes a spy for Voldemort and works his way into Harry’s good graces—and his bed. When the Order prepares to invade Malfoy Manor, Draco is forced to examine his loyalties.

Clear As Mud by scoradh (M, 10k)

Set post-war and post-Harry's-conscience...

Kissed by Pie (M, 12k)

Draco Malfoy was attacked by a rogue Dementor on the night of his Azkaban release. He self-exiled to Muggle London and opened a late-night chocolate shop called Kissed.

I'll never be your chosen one by Andithiel (E, 15k)

Draco doesn't know what exactly he’s doing with Potter, he doesn't know how their unspoken agreement even started, and doesn't know where it will end. The only thing he knows is: he's not in love.

Vanishing Cabinets by @romaine2424 (E, 18k)

Take one Wizarding Family Values politician who has a secret life, and add one Auror who detests discrimination of any type, but becomes a bit obsessed with said politician, and you have enough sparks to ignite a Beltane fire.

In His Nature by Create_Serenity (E, 20k)

Harry agreed to have sex with Draco once a month in order to keep him alive, what he didn’t agree to was Draco popping up all over the place and disrupting his life in more ways than one.

The Matchmaker's Spell by @kbrick (E, 21k)

Thanks to a spell cast over all of wizarding Britain, Draco is forced to marry Harry Potter, who still hates him. But Draco refuses to live a cold, sexless existence, choosing to fill the emptiness in his life and his bed with a parade of lovers. And while Harry may not be able to stand Draco, he despises seeing him with anyone else.

Famous by @fw00shy (E, 24k)

It's a couple of years after the war, and Harry's bored of models now, the same way he's bored of Ron's constant nagging, bored of his Weasley monogram knitwear, bored of the same fucking grin that greets him when he hands his fire-truck red Bugatti over to the valet every night. He wants to find—well, he isn't sure what he wants. Anything but models. Harry is in the mood for...messy. And Draco Malfoy's looking like a walking disaster in the making.

Stain of Silence by brummell (E, 28k)

After the war, Draco serves out his sentence in Harry Potter's house.

He Who Must Not Be Normal by lettered (E, 41k)

Potter has fame and fortune and posh clothes and all he wants is a simple life. Draco has a flat and a cat and a steady job and all he wants is a complicated life. Which makes you think this story has something exciting like body-swapping, but it doesn’t. Instead it has Indian takeaway and a blue jumper and people wanting a whole lot of what they can’t have, discovering themselves as they discover each other.

Harry Potter Gives a Shit by talithan (E, 58k)

“Where are you headed?” “No place special,” Draco fumbled, and flushed further. But then: “I can change that,” said Harry Potter.

Another Mask Behind You by lettered (E, 116k)

Draco is a high-end prostitute who hides his identity. Harry unknowingly hires him. And then there is porn, questions about identity, domestic bliss, more porn, and truth as seen through a web of lies.

[shewolfofvilnius]

Making Tavaria into Durge has saved my OC

Creatively, the chain of events branching from "I am going to reboot my goody two shoes chaotic good bard Tavaria as the Dark Urge" has, been one of the best and most frustrating things to happen to me.

Bad because it's forced me to confront my own insecurities as an author and personal hangups (self-doubt of ideas, cultural baggage about writing smut, violence and gore - and admitting that I like smut and fantasy horror) and all that is hard. Also bad because it's meant multiple edits (and a rework to the end of Act 3 and start of Act 4) to the Gale/Lia fic due to Tavaria's involvement and I hate editing (as anyone who's ever read my writing knows).

Great because creatively a fountain that had become blocked suddenly sprung to life. Great because a character that was honestly kind of stale and one-note suddenly gained an entirely new dimension. A character who is chaotic evil but part of her desperately wants to be good, who became evil for a good reason (sort of) - that has SO much more depth than just plucky young tavaria here for a good time with a sad past.

Great because again, pushing back against all that hyper-engrained cultural crapola is good when it's caused you to have problems in life trying to please people you don't even like.

Great because now it gives my OC twice as many people to have smooched (or straight up fucked), and that's great. It's fantastic that Tavaria now has FAR more emotional stake in Lia's own fight in that story. It was bad when Shar was doing that to her best friend and sister-in-law, but now Shar was trying to do to Lia what Bhaal did to her. NOPE. FUCK THAT.

And tying all the above together, great because in writing the original pre-edits of the Lia/Gale fic AND the OG pre-reboot Tavaria, I always felt a sudden urge to make my stories too light. Too Disney. Too "all our problems are resolved in 22 minutes until the next disaster next week!"

Our protagonist was a prolific murderer. Who skinned the previous head of Bhaal's cult, a dragonborn man many of you might recognize, alive and turned him into a leather overcoat because she could. Who played a dead dwarf's ribs like a musical instrument because she could. Who, as Bhaal's chosen, fucked Bane's chosen and became pregnant with his child. Who, even after her brains were scrambled was so enraged at Kagha that after exposing her work with the Shadow Druids promptly caved Kagha's skull in. Who cared about Gortash enough to defy her father, but who cares about Rolan enough to defy reality and the multi-verse itself. And who clearly wants a family, even though it's against everything she was led to believe, and is something that was quite possibly taken away from her in Orin's cruel, spiteful attack. None of this existed before, and it's turned a flat one-note character (albeit one whose one note was 'loves to smooch Rolan' which is GREAT) into an actual living breathing character with dreams and fears and motivations

This whole thing probably won't be for everyone, and that's fine. And since I'm talking about my OC most people will scroll on by. But yeah, making Tavaria the Dark Urge is the best choice I have ever made in any writing I have ever put to type or print.

Now go get your grumpy wizard back, and save the world.

[zenless-zideblog-zero]

@whokilledyanna Because of This post

Because I would type out a whole novel about this Faction, I will only introduce the Free Agent you get after meeting the faction, and the Faction itself.

~Kinstugi Salvage and Reclamation Company~

"Recover, Repair, Repurpose"

Started by the red oni "Uncle" Tsukuru Naosu, the Kintsugi Salvage and Reclamation company was founded about five years before the Hollow Zero disaster. The company specializes in retrieval of vehicles, machinery, and appliances from hollows, and the decontamination of such things.

After the Hollow Zero disaster, Uncle Naosu hired Langyi on, as well as repairing and hiring on a friend of hers, Hulse Brecher, a fellow Intelligent Construct.

Sometime in the past few years, a young woman covered in scars and a tattered uniform of some Defense Force squad began stealing parts and food from the dumpsters and vending machines around the salvage yard. Uncle Naosu managed to earn her trust enough to take her on as an Apprentice, and now she works and lives at the Salvage yard. She's not very personable, but she offered the name "Armurier." (She is one of Anby's sister's. the left side of her head is shaved, with her hair flopped over the right side.)

In the last couple weeks Uncle Naosu has also hired, under Hulse's suggestion, Mankali Aster, a Cow Thiren (And Monna's older sister) and Aaron Dinae (Her human best friend) after Hulse rescued the pair from a Hollow Raider gang that was using them to produce an army of Lumberjacks and Sweepers, among other Raider Constructs.

Now onto the main agent of the post;

~Agent; Langyi~

"While I question my Sister's Choice of Career, I am happy she is in good hands." - Officer Qingyi, Public Security Janus Quarter.

"She was able to get a car I gave up on Running with a Good whack of her wrench! She's a lifesaver!" - Resident of the Faunus Quarter

"She's always able to find time to get me new and refurbished parts for cheap. Kintsugi never lets me down!" - Billy Kid, Cunning Hares Odd-Job Agency.

"Langyi? She's the best Safety Officer I've seen since the first High Rise was built in the old Capital!" - 'Uncle' Tsukuru Naosu, President of the Kintsugi Salvage and Reclamation Co.

Langyi is an A Rank Ether-Anomaly agent, with a fighting style set around leading Basic attacks into Special and EX Special attacks, similar to Anby. She is based on Wizards and Witches, such as Morgan Le Fae and Merlin of Arthurian legend, The Baba Yaga of siberian folklore, Alchemists both fictional and historical, and, most importantly, modern iteration of them, as seen in DnD and Frieren.

She normally just hits things with her wrench, but can also energize the Ether container in her Wrench/Cane to send out Ether Shots, or in the case of her ultimate, an Ether Lightning Storm, like the Towers in those couple of commissions.

Where Qingyi is often subdued and calm, Langyi is Manic, often Cackling and excited to do weird, wild things. She is, in a word, unhinged. She love being unhinged, even when people are weirded out by it, and especially when they get startled by it. She's not afraid to speak her mind, and loudly speak it again if she is ignored. She is Kind, she is sweet, she is ever so slightly crazy.

Her and Fairy would get on like California and Fire.

Her W-Engine, called "Cast-Iron Cauldron," is a unlicensed recreation of the Public Security Combat Automaton W-Engine "Ice-Jade Teapot," Modified for Ether Storage and Excitement, rather than Electrical usage.

I would love to hear thoughts/opinions on her, and any suggestion you all might have.

(Drawn in Krita using Mouse and Keyboard. References used: Seth and Qingyi's offical artwork by Hoyoverse)

She's the only one I have finished Artwork of.

She is close to Qingyi's design, of course by the nature of her being one of Qingyi's sister's, but I feel the cloak, skirt, and hairstyle do enough to differentiate her beyond being another outfit for Qingyi.

Selection Voicelines: “Can’t you let an Old lady rest?” “Doing something Dangerous? I’ll keep my eye on you.” "This sounds like fun~" *Deranged Cackling*

Ultimate Voicelines: “You're not getting past me! *Witchy Cackling*” ("You shall not Pass!") “Don't leave! My Party's Just Begun!" ("Going so soon? I wouldn't Hear of it. Why, My little party's just begun!") "It is Not wise to pick a Fight with me! I've gone mad!" ("Tell me, old friend, when did you abandon wisdom for madness?")

Defeat Voicelines: "I feel like I'm melting ..." "01 ... I'm sorry ..." "Are the others ... safe?"

Chain Attack/Swap Voicelines: “Did you forget about Me~” “Old is Gold~ But you aren’t!” “Your fate is mine to Command~” “I don’t need Alchemy To Change your face!”

Special Swap Lines: (When swapping with Uncle Naosu) “Take a Load Off Sir!” (When swapping with Hulse Brecher) “Hulse, Let Me have a go at them!” (When swapping with Armurier {last name N/A}) “You’re too young for this Stress, Armurier!” (When swapping with Mankali Aster) “Mankali, stop being Bull headed!” (When swapping with Aaton Dinae) "Aaron, let your steps be alight!" Idle Voicelines: “Ah? Can I take a rest too?” “Are you tired? I find Coffee helps young ones like you.” “Hah! Young ones like you tire out so easily~”

[itsbenedict]

From the beginning | Previously | Coin standings | 60/70 | 36/36

Walter wants to go check out what was happening down in that sunken temple, but Adea doesn't want to just leave all this dirt sitting here- and she's just plugged in that coin miner thingy, so they'll need to sit around for a bit to see if it works anyway.

IT PREVENTED ROOK POWER EXTRUSION is OVIOS NETWORK EXPENDITURE REPORT. Apparently, about 14 years ago, the municipal government started deploying some project called the OpenVista I/O Station network. OPENVISTA is, on paper, an independent startup, but apparently it's a shell corporation established so Thinrar could dodge some of his own restrictions on public works. The report details the budget that went into constructing and deploying these things- though it's not clear from the report exactly what they do.

Apparently a construction company called WIREFRAME MOCKUP was hired to simultaneously build a mall named TARGETED ADVERTISING... and force an underground funeral home type facility run by SLEEP MODE to surrender something called the LOTUS VEXOR, in exchange for letting them keep the rights to their land (which they'd been retroactively granted thanks to a surveying loophole). The project took years and went way over budget, despite someone named DEADLOCK DETECTION being sent from Thinrar's office to oversee it personally. But 14 years ago, she apparently managed to get her hands on it- a key component of the OVIOS network, somehow. The cover op, the mall construction, is set to open in a few days.

TIN RUNT CONCOCTS A QUART O' CACTI concerns an AQUATIC CONSTRUCTION CONTRACT, offered by COLLUSION to a well-regarded specialist contractor named REGRESSION TEST. It's mostly an email chain with said contractor, who had a thousand questions about the nature of the work and the equipment she was being paid to install. The emails- sent to her by someone named JUST-IN-TIME COMPILER- are evasive and noncommittal, and seem primarily concerned with getting her to agree to various nondisclosure agreements and security measures.

REGRESSION TEST's job, apparently, is just to demolish the wreckage at the build site, create some waterproof housing with enough space for maintenance staff, and install the provided equipment. That's all she's allowed to know about the HILARITY! BE A FILIAL E-CYGNET.

SPRITZ? REPENT, WRY ED COOLHAXX! is a strange set of files called PROXY WIZARD CONTEXT HELPERS. It's a dossier on... various random people in town. A university researcher with no friends, a family of small-time crooks down by the docks, various guards at this very tower, and a handful of other random citizens with no clear connecting factors. The files describe the details of their lives over a disconcertingly long period of observation, and note things that are missing from those lives. Family members they don't have, friends they've lost contact with, coworkers who quit recently. There's transcripts of interviews with some of these people, but nothing stands out as particularly odd.

There's also profiles on various properties for rent, and some odd shorthand notes that appear to describe how long they've spent vacant and what's wrong with them. And... a bunch of copies of old missing persons cases, with all the names blacked out. And statements from investigations of incidents where... disasters were averted for reasons no one understood, like an out-of-control trolley being diverted onto a track by some good samaritan who never identified themselves.

[ed: Yeah, chew on that one, FF. You'll find out what I'm on about eventually.]

This is all weird, and rings a few bells, but you're not sure what to make of it just yet. In the meantime, Adea collects 10 Coin from the minter- which seems to have really raised the ambient temperature in the room. It's probably fine, though, right? The heat's dissipating into the stone, for the most part.

Adea consults with Walter and formulates a guess. He'd been drawn underground by some mysterious force when he woke up, right? If your daughter ended up here too- and it stands to reason, because you were all right there in the same place when the blast(?) went off- maybe she was pulled down there by the same force! It's possible he just missed her- she could've gotten lost in those underground tunnels somewhere. Best to give it another once-over with an extra pair of eyes.

You head through the ancient pyramid, which... seems to be more extensive, and in better repair than it used to be. When did all this construction happen? Finding a crack in the floor leading down is more difficult than before. Earlier, it hadn't been difficult at all- Walter says some part of him knew which way to go. Did something change?

Neither of you are feeling any supernatural pull downwards anymore. The area below- save for some additional pyramid construction- is almost entirely unchanged. Which... does mean that there is a GIANT SKELETON, still. Several of them. You find a reasonably well-hidden spot to lurk and install the WIFI ACCESS POINT in the REVERT A BANDANA SURGERY SUBTERRANEAN GRAVEYARD. Files include:

Someone took issue with the performance assessment of a robot horse, around, like... thirty years ago? The email is RE: PONY SERVITOR 2076 SCORECARD, and they're not happy.

You've heard of saltwater taffy, but mousewater taffy is considerably harder to manage. Someone's done it, though: ENCODED::: WRANGLED MOUSEWATER TAFFY.

According to the LANCE GLANCE RECRUITER: PI ROTATION IS OUT. He's in charge of recruiting people who've had a close shave with spears, and he prefers to measure lance angles with tau.

An island nation called Haiti, which you've never heard of, is really mad about something- but they don't seem to want to be mad. IRATE HAITI WISHES MELLOW??? Really?

There'd been a lot of development on a faster-than-light utensil, but the product has been getting worse over time. See, a TORTOISE PROVED WARP FORK REGRESSED in this paper.

There's an invitation to the LETTERED CORRECTNESS FOUNDATION, an organization devoted to putting letters in the correct order. Sure would help if these guys weren't hallucinatory!

Continued | 60/70 | 32/32

[outeremissary]

The Hierophant, Strength and the Hanged Man for Carmen?

Thanks for the ask! For once, there is something resembling brevity to my answers.

(also reordered to obscure some aeon spoilers for anyone for whom those are a concern)

[tarot asks]

Strength: On what issue is your character persistent?

The abomination thing. It’s the abomination thing. It’s most certainly that, the abomination thing. Carmen has developed a fringe theory of the cosmos in which the pristine world of Golarion has been corrupted by the unnatural incursions of creatures and forces not meant to exist on it. History is full of hubristic supernatural overreaches, evil wizard tyrants, and wicked gods and demons sowing destruction. Fey tricksters run rampant in the wilds, the self-righteous so-called good gods leave doctrines of discord for their followers while turning their backs on disaster, the unquiet dead have so infested the earth that a whole disgusting nation of them has taken root. People turn to religion for salvation and the gods feed on their fears and their hopes and all their beautiful, rich lives like parasites. And hardly anyone can see the connection, that there’s not good and bad types of abomination, but that it’s rotten all the way down. That you need to purge it all: the angels and the demons and everything else. The Worldwound is but one corner of a far greater crusade, one that mortals fight endlessly every day just to survive. She’s absolutely miserable to discuss religion with.

(From a meta perspective, this was an adaptation of her impractical and logic resistant tabletop philosophy that every arcane magic user ever born was, deep down, evil, because magic is inherently evil and corrupts everything it touches.)

The Hanged Man: When has your character needed to step back and look at things from a different perspective?

Honestly, just being appointed Knight Commander was a major moment for this. Carmen has never thought of herself as a leader. She knows she doesn’t have a lot of social savvy or patience for trying to parse issues outside of her skillset. Her skills in compromise are generally poor. She doesn’t like delegating tasks. She’s most comfortable receiving orders, not giving them. And grand strategy? She’s a soldier, she doesn’t know what it is that generals do. It’s hard to understand what she’s being asked when Galfrey makes her intentions clear, and it took some processing to come to terms with and accept. Trying to push outside of her usual narrow view of the present and to consider Galfrey’s reasoning, Galfrey’s character, and the state of the crusade did help. As much as the symbolic reasons or the reason of blessings she knew she hadn’t received and disliked being associated with didn’t resonate with her, she could see logic to the crusade needing new blood and fresh morale. The disaster of Kenabres made that much clear. And some morally superior part of her could also be swayed by the logic that she was the right choice for being more upright, for being more clear-headed, for being willing to do what others wouldn’t, just like when she purged the Wardstone.

I suppose in the end it would up less the empathetic understanding of others and more a roundabout way of reaching her own warped perspective there though. Common Carmen L. She does respect Galfrey though, mostly. She has very complicated feelings about Galfrey. All part of the toxic yuri love triangle.

AEON SPOILER ZONE

The Hierophant: Who has served as a mentor to your character?

Carmen has had effectively zero people in her life in the recent past she would consider mentors, especially in the crusade. To “mentor” her would require demonstration of shared values, valuable skills superior to her own, and a temperament she finds agreeable and worthy of respect. Let me just say that there are no characters in the game who meet these standards. She respects some, like Greybor or Galfrey, as equals or near equals. But there’s no one who can put her in a position where she feels that she is a student. The closest that you could probably come is the aeon in the mirror (it’s always that damn aeon in the mirror), and that’s because to her, it is very much not a separate being. It’s just her. She’s just spending time clearing her head and thinking- that’s normal, everyone does that! And she easily internalizes insights she picks up from there. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.

Would love to see a dynamic of mentor and penitent disciple between her and Hal if she ever halfway shaped up her act though, that would be fun. I thought about that periodically in 2021.