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#but like- parents am I right?

dr-lizortecho · 10 months

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Sorry guys if I’ve seemed like I’m spiraling more so than usual, but life is hectic as of the moment so ik I’m more wibbly wobbly than usual. But one of our roommates just bowed out so we’re scrambling to get someone else to move in at the beginning of next month (if not we all have to pitch in 150% of planned rent) and work is switching management around so my hours got cut in half.

#oh and I’m staying with my party for the next month and they’re already making me pull my hair out #I love them I do #but like- parents am I right?

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beanghostprincess · 4 months

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Dragon giving Luffy to Garp with the assumption that he's going to take care of him until he's ready to meet his son (because it's dangerous to have a child while he starts a fucking revolution, thank you very much) and then Garp just- Leaving Luffy on a village where he spends 24/7 alone waiting for the pirate he now considers his role model (because he doesn't have anybody else and Shanks is the only father figure around and he's just that nice) to come back from his adventures, and only being taken care of by Makino who has no responsibility over Luffy but still takes care of him because otherwise the kid would probably die from starvation, and lucky for him she's a sweetheart. And then he loses Uta, his only friend (with no explanation at all), to then carry the guilt of Shanks losing an arm for him and suddenly his legacy as a pirate. And then he's sent to another place with other people he doesn't know, because Garp thought "oh, yes, wonderful idea to leave my grandson with this depressed kid and some bandits" and Luffy luckily befriends Ace and Sabo because they're good people. Luckily. And luckily, Dadan is a good mom and loves them. But then Sabo fucking dies because nobody with authority was protecting these kids (I wonder who could've done that). And now Luffy has to carry both guilt, a legacy, and the biggest abandonment issues I've ever seen after losing his best friend and his brother when they were just children.

And I'm not saying Garp has made horrible decisions but he has made horrible decisions and Dragon should hit his own dad with Sabo's metal pipe.

#idk i just think dragon wouldn't like this #sabo: ah yes garp did *explains everything*#dragon: give me your metal pipe son i am going to beat the shit out of grandpa #i don't think he will but i think he should #i have resentment towards garp i know he's a funny and complex character and he's a good person but i am angry #i think we talk a lot of shit about dragon and shanks for being 'negligent parents' (they aren't btw learn what that means first please)#when garp is right there #one piece #monkey d. luffy #monkey d. dragon #monkey d. garp #red haired shanks #asl brothers #uta #portgas d. ace #revolutionary sabo

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haztory · 10 months

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sorry for being absent literally always, but i had to get this out of my drafts.

goddess!reader x mortal!bakugou; warnings: blood, mentions of sex, murder, unhappy relationships, unhinged reader and bakugou (tiny bit), not beta’d

(w.c. 2.1k)

Rapacious, your father would call you were he to see you now. Salacious, acting in behavior once thought deterred; The kind that he meant to have stamped out of you in an effort to cultivate you into the pious cog in of his senseless grandeur. His promise of destiny.

Your father’s lips would be turned in that virtuous frown, eyes narrowed as he sat from his throne in the great pantheon of Gods. Validated by their fealty. The model figure that is woefully negligent as he speaks of the sanctity of commandments that have seen his betrayal one too many times before. Sanctimonious in his rectitude, righteous in his hypocrisy, your father is.

He meant to cage you, raging at your freedom and its significance—angry that you were wild, changing the tides of human wars with the gentlest of smiles and lulling whispers; Rampaging that fellow Gods, his own brothers, were victim to the whims of your games with the mortals; Furious that the power you wielded began to rival that of his own; Murderous that you were too much like him: untamed, greedy, victorious and still, adored.

You have never known his anger to be long-lasting, especially not in a manner of great meaning when you could falsely promise your way out of it. Batting eyelashes in truce—but, this is beyond punishment for the defiance of a rule. He means to break you.

A husband.

One bound to you without your consultation, much less knowledge. Promised in hand and divinity to be half of a whole to this pitiful excuse of God.

There was hardly an expectation of satisfaction within the marriage on a good day, much less pleasure in the ways that physically mattered; Could such a thing ever truly be expected from a man who only knew how to hammer metal? Up, down, up, down until the glowing steel was forged.

Your husband is a man of great fortitude, who knows and will only know that of the fire he works with. The flames reflected in the dullness of his irises being the only exciting thing about him. He is monotonous within his construction. Routined and boring.

How could there ever be the expectation of fidelity from you, the Goddess of Love?

How could you be shackled to the bedside of a man who has never known the strength of the sea from which you are born? How can you love a man who does not know the impact of the tide and draws no desire from its power? How can you be with a man who does not know and adore you as you are? For a millenia, nonetheless!

You've come to know of this arrangement as a curse; A woeful attempt to tame you from the wild and lustful by forcing you to make acquaintance with the bland and boring. Binding you to the shore, never to make acquaintance with the push and pull of the forceful nature.

Credit must be paid your way. You had tried. In the depths of shame and sorrow, you tried to do as your brothers and sisters and settle. Gave in and let yourself believe that love and happiness could be found within routine, eventually. It is your novelty, after all. And yet, it still finds you. This yearning for more, the urge to love and be loved. Your nature still rises from the swaying tide and dares to edge the coast.

Your father would not approve were he to see you now, watching from your high plane in the heavens to the happenings of the mortal world. Surely, your husband would violently disapprove too, convinced that he has you loyal.

You shouldn’t fixate; Had promised in low lights and empty words in your husband’s grimy embrace that you have seen the errors of your ways; That you have and will change. For his sake. But he does not know what happens when he is away in his cave of brimstone.

Your attention is caught. And the object of your fascination is a marvel.

Sculpted from clay himself, you have half a mind to believe that one of your siblings has had a part in his creation. Broad and muscular, sharp and angular in all the places that deem him a man. This mortal has caught your eye since his ascension from boy to man. He is a village soldier. Fiercely protective and eager for a fight, and yet always looking to the heavens. As though there was something there waiting for him, beckoning him closer. You suppose he isn’t wrong, as you peer down to him just as he looks up.

There have been whispers of his fate amongst the crowds since he was a boy, certainty issued in his great destiny. No one is more sure of it than he.

Which may be what finds him in your temple.

Sanctuaries have never known themselves to be exclusive, but you must admit that it is certainly strange to have a man of his designation pray to the Goddess of Love. Surely he must have found some alignment more towards that of your stoic sister, emboldened by the desire for courage and brawn. And yet he is here, treading the halls in the stillness of night and giving small offerings to each of your priestesses and holding one large offering basket for your statue.

He stands beneath the colonnade, staring pensively at the intricate designs of your image on marble. He speaks only when the room has been cleared, the priestesses giving him the space to pray in solace.

“I hear you.” His timbre is gruff yet smooth. Commanding as it echoes. “You are calling to me.”

You remain still, almost taken aback at his forwardness. The waves of temptation creep at your feet.

“I intend to find you, whether you show yourself or not.” He speaks again. He looks up, and although you know it improbable, you swear eyes of vermillion have pinpointed your location in the sky. And so, it comes crashing.

It has been so long since you have last appeared before a mortal, and appearing before him transcends all relatability. To see the fixation, your desire, and to have him see you. If he is surprised by your arrival, he doesn’t show it. Eyes strong in their stoic gaze, lips almost curled in a sneer. One would think you were his enemy, but you know such a charge to be false. It’s a charge of electricity, the cooling nighttime air suddenly warming at the meeting of your gaze.

He is no enemy to you, and you are certainly no stranger to him.

“No one has ever commanded me so directly. How did you know?” You ask. of genuine curiosity.

“I dream of you.” He says the answer so plainly, as though it were a common occurrence. You can’t help but raise a brow.

“Oh?”

“I have for years. It was only a matter of time before you showed yourself.”

The chains forged by your husband suddenly feel the lightest that they have ever felt. Metal rattling against each other, pushing and pulling as something brews within you. You wonder what this mortal thinks of you. If he finds you as beautiful as you find him; If the power within him is as strong as you think it is.

If he is strong enough to cut through steel.

“And what did you dream of?” You ask, taking a step forward. Feeling elation fill you like the swirling breeze as his eyes quickly watch you step forward.

“Tch. Like you don’t know.” His jaw flexes and with it comes the bloom of a subtle blush on his cheeks. “Didn’t you plant the damn things?”

No, you didn’t. You could certainly look to see what it is he dreamed of, but this is more fun. Finally, finally, you feel the remnants of yourself pulse alive.

“Have you come to give me a greater purpose?” He asks quickly, in diversion. You let him, too satisfied with the newfound freedom to care much about his attempt at modesty.

You step closer to him, watching as his eyes cascade down the sheer chiton adorning your body. “Is that what I did in your dreams? Fill you with purpose?”

You find yourself almost chest to chest with him, his eyes never leaving yours, “Or did you fill me?”

You laugh when his eyes widen, turning to take a chocolate from the offering basket held still in his hands and plopping it into your mouth. Marveling at its taste, deciding that it must be homemade. “Is that what you are in search for? A greater purpose? How about a culinary artist? Your skills are impeccable.”

He doesn’t laugh. “I am destined for more.”

He knows he is. You know he is. Have not eyed him for so long to have not known. He stands firm before you, a soldier waiting for instruction. In any other instance you would rebuke such a stand, revolt at the rigid and serious, and yet with him—

Well, in devotion to you, who can fault you for testing its limits? Especially when there is something that has sat within you, waiting for the opportune moment.

You meet his gaze, deciding to no longer tease. “How much more?”

“Anything you will give me.” He quickly responds.

“And this destiny you seek, do you do it for pride or service?”

“I am your loyal follower and patron, Goddess Divine. What I do is for you.”

“A man like you, patron to me. How lucky am I?” You smile, but it is quickly assumed by the sneaking tendrils of your dark desire. Your voice stills, “The task I have for you is very arduous. Unyielding, difficult, and not aimed for the weak. Destiny setting, to be sure.”

The man seems to preen at those words, a smile finally finding its way to his face. It curls, dangerously, hungrily. “Name it.”

“Once it is spoken, it cannot be undone.” You warn.

“The task is mine alone.” He insists.

You find yourself before him again, and he leans in to listen closely. You can sense the fight in him, smell his musk. The promised freedom teeters on the edge of your words.

“...kill Hephaestus. Free me from the shackles of my constricting punishment.”

He doesn’t blink, doesn’t balk, doesn’t shy away from the treasonous words. He does as you have seen him do and stands firm, almost vibrates with his desire to act.

You can almost feel the brush of the sea on your skin again.

“And my reward?” He asks, confidently.

“Is my eternal patronage and favor not enough?” You laugh, eased in his presence rather than tight at the admittance of your evil. Circling around him, you drag your finger across the broadness of his bare and unmarred shoulders. You wonder if the purity of his skin is a reflection of his valiance. Wonder if your desires are steered correctly, that he is the one to have the strength to carry him to victory.

He glances to you over his shoulder, “Surely, the Goddess has more in plan for the man set to kill her husband than bragging rights?”

Curiosity clouded with the tendrils of lust at the man who holds your fate in his hands, you place your chin on his shoulder, meeting his vermillion gaze as your nose scarcely brushes the smooth expanse of his sculptured chin. Intimacy with a man who isn’t your husband, intimacy that is natural and wanted rather than forced.

“Cheeky.” You murmur, and his grin widens. A veil of clouded air blurs his vision before you reappear in front of him, your weight placed onto him as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Bring me the head of my oppressor,” You begin, said so airily it could be mistaken as a light conversation rather than a plot for murder, “And I will make you a God in his place. Meant to enact your own destiny, made to rule beside me.”

You lean your forehead closer, meeting him as your noses brush in meeting. Tracing one another, you whisper, “Can you do it?”

Without hesitation, he breathes into you. “I am yours, Goddess Divine.”

“And your name, O Great Warrior?”

“Bakugou.” A storm brews mightily in his irises and you can taste the salt of the spray, feel the ocean beckoning you home.

Your release from the cage is so close to the touch, the hilt of the sword dealing the victory blow to your freedom held by him.

You smile, wide, and true, and lustful for blood. “A fitting name for a God.”

It comes as no great surprise when the mortal appears at your temple a few weeks later. He is limping through marbled halls and dripping with blood, the key to your cage held in his hands. Your husband's severed head held by his bloodied and mangled fingers, a wicked smile on his face as he beckons you down from the heavens. You find yourself once again, marveling.

And finally, in love.

#im in love with two people being crazy together #love a woman who leads and her man who's her sword #also worth noting when you bring bakugou up to the heavens and declare him god AND husband your father zeus has an aneurysm #you fuck on the throne #let it also be known that katsuki is literally devoted to you bc his PARENTS were devoted to you #his father prayed to you for prosperity as he was trying to swoon a girl he liked #you listened and granted masaru a beautiful wife named mitsuki and now he is eternally devoted #and so is katsuki #yeah he could be patron to athena but his dad likes you so he will too and BOY was daddy right #the end #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha #katsuki x reader #am i back? not really #irda drabbles

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robbed-ghost · 3 months

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First, they discontinue super sons issues, bringing it back for a Halloween special edition and then ghost.

Then, they have Jon age up and date immediately in time for pride, no warning.

Then, he’s Superman.

Then, we get a super sons movie where he’s 10 again (?)

Then, they have Jon and Dick team up as a protege-mentee situation—not bad! Just…not quite the character we’ve just established. Not quite Jon

Then, they have Jon and Damian babysitting wonder woman’s daughter for *checks books* 7 years????? Making Damian and Jon 21 and 24 respectively??? Ok…?

Then, they do Beastworld, and Nightwing comics, AND Superman comics AND Wonder Woman issues with Jon in ALL OF THEM at the SAME TIME and looking vastly different in all of them, with vastly different characterizations, none of them solid, consistent, or acknowledging the fact that he’s been trapped inside a volcano and travelling the multiverse and having a boyfriend all in the same breath.

What am I supposed to be believing right now, DC.

#what am I supposed to take away from this other than Jon from their greedy stupid hands #they don’t know what to do with him or how to characterize him and it’s so so sad #his parents are CLARK KENT and LOIS LANE and he was the perfect coming of age character. so much potential.#he could be smart and sly and emotional and kind all in one in canon IN CANONNNNN #we’ve already shown it’s possible in the comics before super sons w him and his family #dc #jonathan kent #salt #super sons #trinity #girrrllll I am reading this back a few days later and when I tell you I was so mad 💀#i wrote this right after reading the newest Trinity comic and seeing Jon confirm Damian’s not straight IN A THROWAWAY JOKE HED NEVER SAY??!!#like sir. you do not speak like that but also even if you did the writers should do better to not just jump to that #anyway.

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funeralflow3rs · 1 year

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okay but listen,,, listen,,, are you listening,,, I cannot stop thinking about how the cauldron loves elain and its just... SO interesting to me that the MOMENT she pops out from the depths she's given a mate. there were any number of people there that could have been "assigned" to her ( if ur picking up what I'm putting down lmao ) the cauldron peered into her soul and saw all of her wants and needs and gifted her with the person that embodied all of those things and then some.

I will never stop thinking about this actually.

#elucien #elain x lucien #like lmao az was right there and he could have been chosen but nah #the choice is still hers and she's gonna makes a wrong one first for Drama but the elucien build up is gonna be SO good fr #also something else I was thinking about tonight on the subject of acotar mates is that the cauldron doesnt nessicarily choose 'love' match #it chooses mates people that will shape history above all #if the poor match that was Rhys's parents didn't occur he wouldn't exist #I am fully subscribed to the high king and queen elucien theory tbh and I think that is ANOTHER reason why they were matched #if anyone is capable of ruling prythian its them #anyway that being said they're going to shape history AND elain gets the love of her life is where I was going with that #elain: I need sunshine #the cauldron rolling its proverbial sleeves up: OH?????

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hazel2468 · 8 months

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Just a completely random thought but like...

I am truly starting to believe, at least for people my age (so late 20s- early 30s range), our parents didn't actually want children. Not in the way that matters.

They didn't want unique, individual, whole other people to raise into adults. They didn't want to do the amazingly hard work of being a parent- in that being a parent entails making sure your children can go out into the world and be their own people and make their own way, and it is your job as the person raising them to prepare them for that as best you can.

They wanted "children". As in dolls. As in "look at this thing I made let's talk about how great I am for making it". As in "let me brag about all of my child's accomplishments, those are all on me, but if they fail that is on them". As in "my child matters in what they can give me, not in who they are as a person of inherent value". As in "this was expected of me and I did it and now I am going to raise this human being the same way my parents raised me".

As in "why doesn't my fully grown adult child talk to me anymore? They're so entitled! They're so whiny! They DARE tell me I didn't do a good job parenting them! They DARE tell me I hurt them! They DARE express that they have feelings and thoughts and wants and a life outside of what I imagined for them in my head, outside of what will look good on me! How dare they not be a little thing I can hang on my fridge with a magnet and point to and say look my baby loves me. Look I am a good parent- that means I am a good person. Look I became a parent and that means I am GOOD. How DARE they undermine my entire identity as a Good Parent by telling me that I messed up?"

#this got really specific I know #im just having Thoughts this morning #prrobably spurred on by the fact that I am like #making a lot of changes related to my disabilities and conditions #and thinking about how even the fact that like #we all but KNEW I had something going on #didn't stop my parents from acting like I was messing up #and yet they were prefectly happy to brag about all the shit I COULD do right #but whenever I did something wrong it had NOTHING to do with them #and EVERYTHING to do with me #and I'm just having an emotion about that #and about how shitty parents can really be in generral #i know exactly ONE person #who has a solid relationship with his parent

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tj-crochets · 2 months

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The staggered rainbow baby quilt is done! This was made using scraps from my first rainbow quilt paired with black jelly roll strips, and I absolutely love the contrast. It’s so vibrant it almost looks like it’s glowing! And the backing print is metallic so it’s got a little bit of shine to it too

#sewing #handmade #baby quilt #staggered rainbow baby quilt #I am aware black is not necessarily a traditional color for a baby quilt #but surely there are some goth parents out there #or people who really like rainbows #it’ll find its way to the right baby eventually

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thecruellestmonth · 11 months

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Do you guys really believe that killing is the singular bad thing that cops do?

Or even that killing is the most frequent bad thing that cops do?

Are you saying that if cops didn't kill, then they'd be the same as Batman? Because then you're suggesting that effectively Batman already is a cop, with the exception that he hasn't killed (just like the majority of U.S. cops, who have never once shot or killed anybody).

I'm a bit worried to see opinions suggesting that only killing is wrong—and that violence, stalking, and humiliation are okay. In real-life, police commit countless acts of those "little" abuses, terrorizing entire communities, before they murder anybody.

Invading people's privacy is wrong. Hurting people to the point of hospitalization is wrong. Forcibly drugging people is wrong. Putting people in cages is wrong. Torture and "enhanced interrogation" are wrong. Ambushing people in their homes and safe places is wrong. Keeping inexhaustible wealth is wrong.

Superhero comics are power fantasies. Not all fantasies need to reflect our ideology in reality. But once you apply your real-life values to fiction, once you decide that fiction showcases exemplary real-life ideology—then your praise for Batman's ideology does become a worrying reflection of your real-life understanding of social issues.

#copaganda #Bruce Wayne critical #GCPD #fandom discourse #Batman copaganda #police brutality cw #Almost sorry to drag serious discussion of copaganda into ridiculous superhero comics but I swear the other guys started it first...#To be clear I'm completely disinterested in condemning or interrogating Bruce over his personal choice not to kill.#But I am so fascinated in how he justifies his own use of violence and privilege!!! So very very fascinated!!#Once again: LESLIE THOMPKINS IS RIGHT.#Actually I'm not gonna tag this post as @nti Bruce W@yne--because really I enjoy canon Bruce a hell of a lot more than his stans do lol.#Sorry but Batman isn't a darling anti-cop revolutionary. If he were then he'd get in line behind Green Arrow and like the Invisibles.#I mean maybe The Audio Adventures version is anti cop but still in a free-market libertarian power fantasy kind of way if you can dig that.#violence mention cw #murder mention cw #fandom drama #This is why Cheer doesn't work because Red Hood realizes 'Oh I don't want kids to lose their parents like I lost mine--#--therefore I won't murder anymore. It's time to put my faith in the system. 👼👼👼'#Jason sweetie... you lost your father firstly to criminalization and incarceration for property crime.#You lost your mother to poverty and addiction. You are actually not like Batdaddy and your trauma is not a mere echo of his trauma.#Batman discourse

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ride-a-dromedary · 6 months

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Thinking about Thaniel and Halsin reuniting again when he wakes.

Thinking about how Halsin describes Thaniel as having been ripped away from him (just as he was from Oliver). How he was the only one able to see and interact with him; how Halsin is very insistent that Thaniel made him who he became. How Halsin's "very first friend" being an encapsulation of nature itself affected the entire trajectory of his life. How that implies, to me, that Halsin and Thaniel were connected on a level far stronger and more significant than just being unlikely playmates as children - even moreso than just Halsin deciding to become his protector as he aged, or the implication of the relationship becoming more along the lines of a parent and child - to the point of being so interconnected and intertwined, Thaniel evidently uprooted and followed Halsin from the High Forest to its own unpredicted detriment.

Thaniel's being cursed and trapped quite literally *did* rip the two of them away from one another, just as tearing Thaniel's being in two twisted and created Oliver. Halsin feels a hole in his absence - a loneliness and disconnect that eats away at him. He describes losing contact with Thaniel all that time ago as being "worst of all", which is saying a lot considering what else was happening to and around Halsin at the time. And all Thaniel talked about whilst trapped was Halsin, insisting to find him because he was the only one who an entire force of nature itself believed could help it.

Losing Thaniel sent Halsin into a century long spiral; Halsin who blames himself for "dawdling" in his own pain as it suffered. Who could almost place himself in the catalyst of Ketheric Thorm's tragedy of losing his daughter pushing him to the edge. It's the elevated metaphorical adult fear of losing a child and the indescribable sorrow involved in that, mixed with the loss of an important childhood and formative influence, mixed with losing a friend, a piece of oneself, all in one.

I just imagine Halsin twitching in his skin to head immediately back to camp after convincing Oliver to return. Distractedly following behind, but evidently elsewhere, until he is dismissed or the group returns. And he is first to arrive and first to break off to his tent, pulling aside the cloth, lacking any considerable delicacy of action, to see Thaniel sitting up, blinking slowly at his surroundings. Alive; the smell of lavender heavy and sweet. Not dead and rotting, not twisted and empty. Small. Frail. Not quite whole. But alive.

And Halsin...hesitates on the threshold, hands shaking, everything having come to its head at last and he doesn't know what to do with himself. He holds his breath, fearful of any disturbance spooking the life away that they'd worked so hard to revive, until Thaniel turns its eye slowly towards him. Two deer caught in a crosspath of light. A century past and there are hundreds of things to do, hundreds of things he had planned to say to him if they succeeded, but all Halsin can manage is a strained: "It's me."

And he does not need to say who he is; Thaniel knows. All those rehearsed things fizzle away in its face. Halsin is older now, he reasons, much older; perhaps Thaniel will not recognize the century carved upon his brow just as Oliver had not. In a moment of desperation, he needs it to know him. Needs Thaniel to remember - but, fool that he is to underestimate the power of life before him, of course he remembers. Of course Thaniel would recognize him, just as he had recognized him after the long winter had passed - when he had changed so much, and was no longer a little elfling and never would be again. Just as Thaniel had recognized him every springtime after, the thawing of ice bringing another year with it, even as its face did not change at all. It must; his eyes betrayed the centuries beneath his boots, even as the child rubbed fitfully at them.

"It's me," Halsin murmurs again, falling to his knees - as if he could make himself impossibly smaller - bring him back to the beginning, turn back the years before it all went wrong. And Thaniel just nods its head and touches little hands to his face, and when he echos his name, it feels like that first thaw of spring again.

"I heard you calling," it whispers, gentle like summer breezes. "You cried for me to stop hiding. You were frightened and did not wish to play anymore. But when I came out, it had gotten dark. I could not find you."

"I know."

"I called back," he continues, even and intoned, but his lip wobbles. "You could not hear me.

"I know," Halsin repeats, brokenly.

Thaniel blinks a few more times, seemingly working out how to reteach a face long asleep, though there were no muscles to move. A false start later, a twitch of the nose, and he is...smiling. "But I kept trying - I knew you would find me."

A single stick too heavy and the dam breaks. Eyes filled with tears, he hugs Thaniel to him like he hadn't since they were children chasing each other through the underbrush with glitters of gold tangled in his hair. Since Thaniel had guided his hand to make the flowers in his father's garden grow. Since all they'd had was each other under the endless canopy of trees.

"Forgive me," Halsin whispers, a century of pain and loss and loneliness exiting from him in a single rush, the cold empty spaces inside him filling up with warmth. And at last he wakes, dragged violently into the open air after drowning for too long, blinded but alive and whole once again. Interconnected; not alone anymore. The earth sings beneath him and Oliver's spirit hovers just beyond the outskirts of his vision. Halsin chokes on his laugh. "I was never very good at this game."

#BG3 Musing #Halsin Posting #Halsin #anyway...yeah - again half purple prose half nonsense #halsin's most valuable relationship in his life is pseudo-spiritually platonic and that means a *lot*#of course he wants to go back to his realm in the end - of course he wants to see him happy and thriving #because i feel like platonic relationships are just so wholly undervalued as being important and healing to people #i am also thinking about halsin telling oliver that he need not invent friends - halsin was likely told as a child #that thaniel was made up i feel it - treated perhaps at best as an entertainment of their son's imagination in his parents' case #because no one else had heard of him or seen him before #even in a land of magic and monsters #halsin providing oliver with the validation he wishes he had as a child #using the 'you needn't invent friends' as a reverse - thaniel is back and real and waiting for your return #see my previous post regarding this for musing about thaniel and oliver being kara-turan-esque nature spirits because tbh #they more align with that - how'd you get here thaniel #using it/he for thaniel feels right in my mind

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