When I came across that "joke" from Tav to Quill and Z'rell's comment (plus Halsin), I had to take a minute to process what happened. Gale might be a bit silly and eccentric but he's the kindest, sweetest and most passionate character in that party. No wonder the poor man has deep insecurities to solve, so many people reduce him to an easy target! Ofc one of the side effects would be overconfidence and ambition as a defense mechanism. He's obv lonely; only Tara and Morena ever loved him for him.
his eccentric nature might be a part of it. he is loquacious, outgoing, and doesn’t see the point in hiding his enthusiasm. he is considered to be the weird one. naturally, wizards in general being seen as somewhat squishy and physically weak might also add to it.
personally, i really don’t like the implications of the (widely considered) autistic-coded character being the one who faces the most ridicule by far by other characters and fans (and larian) alike.
some might disagree with me on that, but i don’t find it funny by any means either. mostly it just makes me feel bad. “he deserves it. cocky, arrogant, hubris-ridden wizard needs to be taken down a peg” like he isn’t… y’know… already at his lowest. it also disregards the fact that much of his bravado is part of his carefully curated Great Wizard of Waterdeep™ persona that he has skillfully adopted to mask his general feeling of being defective. being fiercely proud of your skill and knowledge and being doubtful of having something truly worthwhile to offer are mindsets that can coexist. according to fandom, gale is either secret hubris incarnate that is only waiting to be unleashed upon the world or pure baby that can do no wrong. instead of a character that is just as flawed and traumatized as all the others, but no less deserving of genuine love.
to me, the constant ridicule just reads as further feeding into his deep-rooted insecurities and his belief that he (as gale, the person) isn’t someone who holds inherent worth. it really, really doesn’t sit well with me.
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well, i was going to wait to formally announce something when i got the time but i’m a bit irritated that the first thing i see when i log in is this ask
^ to answer your question anon, idk why you’re following if that’s what you feel 💀 respectfully, unfollow and never interact with me again. and this goes for everyone else who has left nasty asks in my inbox demanding me to update. my priority is law school and family, not to update fanfics that i don’t get paid for. this is something i do on the side for fun, it is not a job nor does it help me secure my future. spend less time demanding free work from people and spend more time working on your own future. it quite literally should never get to the point where you’re demanding strangers on the internet to provide you with fanfiction and insulting them when they have other things going on—seek help. that is weird.
but on a more serious note to everyone who has been respectful & kind about it—i don’t think i’m gonna be able to update anything until winter break, i apologize to everyone who has been waiting patiently, i promise i’m not abandoning heliotropes but it will not be updated for at least a month and a half. my workload has skyrocketed the past two weeks and my professors are warning us that it’s only uphill until after finals when we get our break. i need to be focusing on work, i barely even have the energy to answer messages from ppl right now.
^^ so if you are here for just my writing, this is the time to leave. i’ve been very vocal about this not being a writing blog. it is just my blog. if you only want writing, unfollow and find it in the tags.
i am going to be closing my inbox to prevent more asks like this because it’s rude and it’s not something i want to deal with. officially on semi-hiatus.
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idk what this says about me psychologically but one of my regularly reoccurring anxiety dreams has me moving into a new place (either a flatshare or uni accommodation), and after i pay the (extremely expensive) deposit and finalise all the paperwork, i get there and discover that my room doesn't have a door, and when i say, "hey guys, not to rock the boat or anything but how come my room doesn't have a door?" my new flatmates are all like "whoa, SOMEBODY's a big fan of doors, huh? what do you need a door for? got something to hide?" and i'm so embarrassed and nonplussed by this that i end up just agreeing with them because i don't want to look like a freak. i have this dream about twice a month and it always has me jolting awake in a cold sweat
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it’s the sound that tips him off.
it’s late, half-past hell by his last count, and mactavish knows there shouldn’t be a single soul in the showers this time of night. though he’s sure if he asked, he’d be told a soul isn’t in there.
just a ghost.
he almost chokes on the thick steam filling the locker room; humid and hazy and the perfect cover. or it would be, if the man collapsed in the far stall cared about hiding.
mactavish hates himself a little for the low sigh that falls from his lips. he wishes he wasn't so disappointed; that the promises he's heard over and over and watched be broken as many times hadn't wedged their way into his heart and convinced him that maybe, maybe this could be the time it sticks.
he doesn't know what's worse; the disappointment or the lack of surprise.
he holds his breath through the steam and leans over the limp body; stinging hot water hitting his back, instantly soaking through his clothes and already starting to burn. he flicks the tap enough to take the bulk of the heat out and straightens; a groan startling out of the man beneath him at the sudden lash of tepid water.
mactavish crouches, knees clicking and hooks a hand under his bicep to pull him up straight against the wall. if there was any vomit on his skin, it's been washed away by the pelting stream and he supposes he can count himself lucky for that. he tilts his limp head back and slips his fingers into his mouth; holding down his tongue and ignores the way it lazily jolts under his fingers to check his airway.
clear.
another small victory.
mactavish pulls his fingers out and cups his chin, keeping him tilted up and moves in the way of the water again so he can pull at his eyelid.
the eye he's met with is cloudy, so dilated there's hardly a ring of blue left.
he sighs again; hand falling away and letting his eye fall shut. "god damnit, riley."
riley moans, all his weight resting on the hand holding his jaw.
"aye, 'm talking ‘bout you," he grunts tiredly.
he lets riley's head fall forward to grab his arm, pulling him away from the wall to sit behind him; propping his body up against his chest. he leans his head back over his shoulder, keeping his face out of the water and his airway open just in case he hasn't actually finished throwing up.
he takes the rag riley'd half-managed to soap up and mechanically runs it over him; cataloguing new bruises and cuts and checking if the old ones are healing. sickly yellow fingerprints ring his hips, red splotches paint his ribs; too new to have settled into the deep purple he knows they’ll become.
riley slowly makes more noise as he rubs life into his body; still lying limp against his front but his head's starting to roll restlessly on his shoulder. he swipes between his legs and carefully doesn't think a single thing about what he finds.
"sean?" he rasps and mactavish's hand stills; eyes falling shut. he bites his check, hand clenching around the rag tight enough to shake and breathes hard out his nose.
he doesn't say a word, just forces himself to go back to cleaning.
he's not sure what would come out of his mouth if he did.
riley isn't conscious enough to hear him anyway.
he runs his fingers over his inner elbows for tracks and manages to muster some relief when he doesn't find any. seems to be a pill and booze night; far from the worst condition he's found him in.
he rinses him off, running a curtesy hand over his shaved head only for it to fall back to his jaw; his thumb stroking over the thick scar carved into his cheek.
"you gotta stop doin' this," he whispers.
he isn’t sure if he’s talking to riley or himself.
mactavish gathers up riley's too-light body into his arms and turns off the shower. his head lolls into his throat and he throws a towel over his dripping body and another over his shoulder. it doesn't stop him from tracking water all the way to his quarters but he'd like to see someone try to put in a complaint about it.
he lays out the other towel on the bed and sets riley down; moving his body into the recovery position in an all-too familiar routine. he dries him enough that he won't soak the covers as he pulls them up to his chest and kicks the waste bin within grabbing distance of the bed.
he goes to pull off his sodden clothes when a different noise makes him freeze.
a low sniffle.
mactavish slowly turns back to the bed to find riley's eyes squinting open; glazed with tears as he kneads at the covers.
he stares at him for a moment as he looks around the room and those hazy eyes lock on him for the first time. "cap'n?"
he swallows. "aye; s'just me, riley."
his hand pokes out from under the covers and for all the promises he's made himself - all the “never again”s and “this is the last time”s - at the end of the day, he's weak.
he sits on the side of the bed and takes riley's hand in his; already so cold after nearly boiling himself alive.
"y' mad a' me?" he sniffs.
mactavish runs his tongue over his lip and slowly shakes his head. "no, i'm not mad at you."
"prom'se?" he pushes.
he reaches out and caresses his temple with his thumb. his hand almost covers his head and it cuts like a knife to remember just how small riley is. "aye," he says, hushed. "i promise."
riley's eyes fall shut, voicelessly murmuring 'promise’ to himself over and over.
"I’ll ge’ bett'r," he slurs and between one breath and the next, he's out.
mactavish sighs, running his hand in a final pass over his head and stares at a face that looks so much younger in sleep; bruised and sallow skin hidden in the shadows. "i know you will."
he presses a slow kiss to his forehead, shutting his eyes against the grief that wells in his heart and gets up to pull a chair over to the bed; settling in for another long night's vigil of watching his broken lieutenant sleep, ready to tilt him over if he throws up, eyes locked on the slow rise and fall of his chest fearing tonight may finally be the time it stops.
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Yall know how danny ends up with an Ice Core instead of lightning and we are all mostly salty about it? Im here with a theory to give us some imaginary closure.
Ghosts can’t have cores based on how they died. Ember fire? She actually died of food poisoning.
Skulker (even though I think hes just a blob and never was a like person) is a hunter? (Not really a core but stfu) Activist for the nature and just fell into a cave and died of dehydration/starvation.
Walker the warden (not really a core power more like obsession again)? Got hit by someone running a redlight while he was jaywalking.
Johnny really unlucky? Killed by a his college professor.
Why these some what random things? It’s what could have saved them from their deaths without being overly pointed to them (aka causing trauma)
If Ember had cooked that food longer she probably would have not even gotten sick.
If Skulker knew anything about the wilderness he probably would have figured out that even though the water in the cave is moving it’s still not safe to drink smh.
If walker or that driver had followed the laws then he wouldn’t have died
If johnny was just a bit more unlucky to have missed the shuttle bus or to not be the random student that teacher picked he would have survived.
Im like 10% sure ice could have some how saved danny too but idk man. My brain says that ice conductive and would have some how saved that dingus. Maybe if Danny was a little bit cooler he wouldnt have tripped and hit the on switch lmak
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