#cause you're taking away that persons.. like. not autonomy

[candyskiez]

usually I hate possession plots but god,I love the possessed hunter plot. because it's just so painfully resonant as an abuse victim. especially to anyone who's been abused by bigots.

like. this outside force you once loved, you spent so much of your time trying to please, so much of your time begging for the approval of, isolates you. they cause you to grow paranoid and angry, snapping at people and pushing you away from your support system. makes you seem crazy to your loved ones, making them doubt your mental health and making you question your sense of reality because you can't tell what's real or not anymore (gaslighting, baby!) you're cut off and overwhelmed. you get put in situations where you're forced to do things you don't want to, you're in so much pain, you're being treated like something with no wants or thoughts of their own. you're stripped of your autonomy. you're belittled for what you wanted and told THIS is how you're supposed to be, and you're so miserable. you're pitted against your loved ones. your abuser tries to make all your loved ones hate you so you come back to them, so they don't lose you. and belos being a horrifically realistic portrayal of an IRL abuser makes this so much worse. he craves Caleb's attention and tries to force hunter to fill that void. nevermind HES the one who robbed himself of caleb in his life by killing him. he tries to make hunter his shoulder to cry on, his therapist, his punching bag, his doctor. uses him to look at himself and go "see! look how good I'm doing! my family is back and he finally loves me again!" , he is obsessive and horrible and cruel and so horrifically realistic. he strips hunter of his autonomy, and in the shit that will start sounding familiar to people who grew up in bigoted families:

forced him out of what made him most comfortable. literally grew out his hair against his will, treated how he'd changed his body and wardrobe to make himself more comfortable as something that tainted him.

also just. holy shit the violating him like that. just the fucking undertones. it's fucking horrific.

and that's why him fighting back is so huge. because he has the strength to say, no. fuck you, no. this is my goddamn body. this is my goddamn life. he takes all these things he LOVED. he loved, that belos had taught him he was sinful and a horrible person for not despising (hm, allegories) and says, fuck you, I WANT this. I want this, I love this, you tried to teach me to hate it but I don't. I love it. I love it, and you didn't break me. I want to leave the coven, I want to leave you. you hurt me, and I said sorry. you used me, and I said sorry. I am done being sorry. I am done feeling bad. I want this life you're trying to take from me. I want to go to the boiling isles and I want to have a life there, in that world you hate so much. I want to go to the boiling isles and be sinful and disgusting and everything you hate and I will love it. I will be happy. I will be free and everything you hate. and I miss when I thought I could please you, because it was simple. but I am happier as a heretic and as a sinner, and you can't change me. I tried to change myself for you, I just ended up miserable. you can't make me something I'm not. I tried. and I am done trying. I am hunter. fuck you, my name is hunter. my name is hunter, and you hurt people. it doesn't matter if you were trying to help me. you hurt me. and I am done, and I am leaving, and most of all I will never let you hurt anyone else like you hurt me.

and he fucking got it, man. he fucking got it. he went through HELL and he still came back swinging. the death feels symbolic to me almost? losing a part of you in traumatic events and you have to live without that part. and you got out but you lost pieces of you in the process, and that stays with you.

but he keeps going. he kept fucking going man and THAT is fucking amazing to me. he kept going. ohhh my god. I wish I had this when I was 13. hunter isn't as massive of a hyperfixation for me anymore by a long shot, but goddamn. I love this dude. I LOVED the possession scene so fucking much and it will always resonate with me so, so hard.

#the owl house #toh #owl house #toh spoilers #the owl house spoilers #owl house spoilers #abuse tw #tw abuse #cw abuse #tw child abuse #abuse cw #cw child abuse #child abuse cw #child abuse tw #hunter deamonne #hunter toh #toh hunter #thanks to them #shows up late to the party with a glass of vodka and tears streaming down my face #me? projecting? never

[ineffectualdemon]

I want to be very clear

If you think some mental illnesses "should be stigmatised" get in the fucking bin

Stigma doesn't stop mental illness, no not even the ones you don't like

What it does is give permission to people to dehumanise and abuse people who are diagnosed with those conditions

I am lucky in that my psychosis is relatively tame and something I can deal with with support from my family and my family is willing to support me

But the mental health professionals have actively warned me away from getting a formal diagnosis because it would endanger me and make my life harder than not having a diagnosis. Like they have worked with me to keep "off paper"

Because of fucking stigma

And I am VERY LUCKY but even without a formal diagnosis that I had to fight the system for 6 months for the permission to safely come off my antipsychotic so I could take other medication that I desperately need

Other people have been abused horrifically and been stripped of their bodily autonomy and human rights because they have what's considered a "bad" mental illness

So if you come onto one of my posts and say "narcissistic personality disorder should be stigmatised" I will fight you because you're a piece of shit

Because stigma doesn't help anyone but people those in power to cause harm

Cluster B personality disorders does not make monsters

They are humans and they deserve to be treated as humans!

I am fucking sick of the abuse and hatred mentally ill people get!

Fuck OFF!

#anger #rant #tw mental illness ableism #mental illness #mental health #tw cluster b ableism #cluster b #narcissism #tw narcissistic personality disorder ableism #tw ableism #ableism #that person on my other post just really pissed me off

[epiphyllous]

when morning comes (Astarion/Reader) [3]

Astarion understands Ketheric Thorm more than he realizes. For what are they both if not selfish, foolish men willing to do everything to keep what is theirs? (Astarion begins to think he does not deserve you.)

Word Count: ~9k Notes: Astarion/Reader, Paladin!Reader, AFAB, gender-neutral "you", following Astarion romance route in his POV + my hc/additional scenes, [switches to your POV], annoyance to lovers, fall first/fall harder, mutual pining, Wyll/Karlach, implied Wyll/Reader [Part 2]

[Act II: Moonrise Towers]

Getting into Moonrise was almost too easy. It is a relatively stressless trip if not for the grand introduction of Ketheric Thorm. The man truly is invulnerable, walking up the steps of the tower without care after being killed twice right before their eyes. It is no wonder Moonrise follows his command, convinced of his authority as the Absolute's chosen. 

It is equally as easy to convince Moonrise that they are all willing followers of the Absolute. Z'rell is the only person they truly had to demonstrate loyalty to, but Astarion watches you display just enough cruelty to the goblins to prove your place. 

“Your lust for the neck pricker is succulent,” she suddenly says, eyes turning to him. Astarion looks to you in question, only to see you glance away in mild embarrassment. “It almost makes me want to take a bite out of him myself.”

“Enough,” you say, clearing your throat. “Surely you know by now we're loyal to the cause?”

She does, or she says as much when she assigns them a mission to help Balthazar get the artifact responsible for Ketheric Thorm's immortality. Astarion doesn't really know the details, not caring much to pay attention when he already understands the gist of it involves killing someone. Besides, he is more interested in what exactly Z'rell saw in your thoughts. If only to tease you about your ‘succulent lust’ for him, he means to bring it up the first chance he gets. 

You must realize this, because you take your time exploring Moonrise Towers and keeping them all preoccupied. Gale manages to get blessed for the first time in what seems like forever by his goddess when he rids of the foul Netherese magic circle in Balthazar's chambers. Karlach gets her chance to pet the undead guard dog in Ketheric's private quarters, and you keep him preoccupied with all the chests they have to unlock.

Astarion gets an opportunity to talk after they find Melodia Thorm's room and the letters she gave to her husband, but he finds you solemn in thought at the discovery, so he decides (for once) to leave you be for now. 

Then they meet Araj Oblodra, and the thought completely leaves his head.

He barely resists the urge to cover his nose for how foul her blood smells. He manages to smile rather than grimace when they first greet her, though he finds his efforts wasted when she sets her eyes on him to be bitten. Astarion can't imagine something he would want to do less.

When the drow asks if he ‘belongs’ to you, Astarion watches as you frown. "Astarion can answer for himself just fine," you say. "He's his own person." 

It is almost adorable how disconcerted you look when the drow continues on, as if you can't quite understand why anyone would think you could own him. Astarion finds it annoyingly familiar though, the way he is viewed as something lesser without needs or preferences. Your easy agreement to his own autonomy is... refreshing. He has known your proclivity for all things good and fair, but to have you display it in full for his sake,  Astarion feels touched.

“I will have to decline,” he tells her with a stiff smile.

The blood dealer bristles, not expecting his response, and he begins to feel uneasy despite himself. “Excuse me? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and you're squandering it.”

Astarion nearly bares his fangs in response. “I gave you my answer,” he hisses, and in the corner of his eyes, he sees you shift, stepping closer to him. The unease at refusing the offer dissipates knowing you are there to support him, even when the drow becomes increasingly displeased. 

“Can't you talk sense into your obstinate charge?” Araj demands, and you quip her with a short and sharp smile. That’s one he hasn’t seen in a while, Astarion thinks, forced civility wielded like a weapon against those who have found themselves on your bad side. Which you do have, to his past surprise. Astarion just never imagined that he would bear witness to someone landing themselves in it just because of the way they speak to him. 

Astarion would be lying if he said he was not pleased.

"I don't really see why he needs to say yes,” you drawl. “I'm surprised he said no, to be honest."

Ugh, you are honest even in the worst of times.

"Sorry, one moment..." Amusement and exasperation battles in equal strength as he pulls you away just enough to speak to you privately. "Are you actually asking me to do this? Trading me for some potion?" He asks, though when he sees genuine confusion flit back into your expression, he confirms your question is out of curiosity not persuasion. You seem almost panicked at the thought of his suggestion being true.

"What? No," you reply back to him, alarmed. "I would never!” You desperately scramble to explain yourself. “I just thought you'd jump at the opportunity to bite people. I was, you know, just a little surprised.”

Funnily enough, you may have a point. A point that need not happen in front of an annoyed drow, but a point nonetheless. He could never truly fault you for being right, however inconvenient it is sometimes. (In the past, he would never have imagined he would feel this way about you.) "Well, yes, you aren't wrong,” he says, “but something smells off about her blood. I don't need to taste it to know it's going to be awful."

He shudders for good measure, and he sees your lips quirk up at his dramatics. He thinks briefly about how he has only known the taste of your blood, besides the time he was compelled to take a bite out of Gale because of a cursed frog. The drow's blood smells worse than his netherese poisoned blood, and in comparison, yours is almost sweet. Astarion finds himself elaborating without prompting. "Nothing that will kill me, but I'd rather not go through it if I don't have to."

You nod. "Okay,” you say easily, “if you don't want to, you don't have to.”

"Alright," Astarion replies automatically before his surprise can stop him. Just like that, he thinks, and he can make choices for himself just by how it makes him feel. It's rather novel. The realization is quite overwhelming, despite how simple you make it seem. He pauses, shooting you a quick smile-- or what he hopes is a smile. "Uh, thank you." 

You only wave your hand at him and turn back to the drow with an unapologetic smile. He faces the drow with you and turns her down again, much to her immense displeasure. 

You manage to lift Araj's moods somewhat when you offer up your blood for experimentation. Astarion isn't happy about the exchange, for who knows what the drow will do with your blood, but you seem genuinely curious enough about the whole concept. You get a flask made from your blood in return, which you give to him almost immediately. 

“A gift,” you tell him. “Let me know what it does if you drink it.” A flicker of guilt comes and goes when he accepts it, and for a brief and endearing moment he thinks this may be a gesture made because of the misunderstanding earlier. He feels pleasantly surprised by how quickly you come to his defense and try to make amends when you think you have done him a disservice– as though his feelings mattered. 

You tilt your head curiously. “Can you still smell my blood in the potion?”

Astarion opens up the flask and takes a look. In the bouquet of herbal scents, yes, he can identify your blood mixed in it. He rather thinks he is quite familiar with it, and it is a taste he can never get tired of. 

He wants to thank you but finds that he has bigger things to be grateful for. He has never been shy of showing thanks, but what you've just done for him in front of Araj is too important to him for it to be said in passing.

At every chance you get, you make him feel... seen. Safe. He is his own person, vampirism be damned– a living being with his own thoughts and feelings, and you make it known to him and to everyone even if he himself cannot see it. Your goodness remains in the face of temptation, and you are unwavering in your beliefs when you believe it to be right. How does one even begin to thank you for not betraying his faith in you like that? 

(What a fragile thing trust is, to be put to the breaking point at a single moment in time. What if you had demanded him to bite the drow, regardless of how he felt? If you had placed more value in the potion's abilities than in his own free will? He suspects his relationship with you would be unsalvageable. For some things may be forgiven–and he feels as though he would forgive many things for you–but he cannot afford to lose himself again, even to you.)

Astarion doesn't get a chance with you alone for a while, the party having moved on to trying to break the prisoners from Moonrise Towers. The tieflings– Rolan will absolutely hate the fact they will have saved Lia and Cal for him--and dark gnomes alike all wait in the prisons for the right time to hatch their plan. They are lucky to have them show up when they do and guide them out without a single trace. Astarion is almost disappointed that there wasn’t a fight to be had. 

He waits until the freed gnomes and tieflings steer their way to Last Light Inn in the distance before he speaks with you. Water laps at the makeshift port the prisoners sailed from, and as Gale goes into the logistics of his mage hand magic to Karlach, he approaches you. 

You look into the distance, beyond the point of where the Moonrise Tower's light can reach. When you turn to him, as if feeling his gaze, he feels a moment of déja vu. 

"I wanted to thank you,” he tells you.

You look confused, glancing out into the dark before coming back to him, and he realizes perhaps you think he's somehow grateful for releasing the prisoners. Not a strange notion, but certainly what would be a first for him, considering who they saved. "For what?"

"For what you said whilst we were in front of that vile drow,” Astarion continues, finding himself more impassioned than he previously thought. “You could have asked me to throw myself at the drow, my feelings be damned.” He pauses for a moment to gather himself. “But you didn't, and I'm grateful."

Your response comes easily to you as it did before. "Of course.” You tell him, “I wouldn't want you to do something you don't want to.”

Your words are gentle, but they leave him feeling exposed. It's as though his chest has been opened and now you bear witness to what he has kept hidden for so long. He is by no means fragile, but it does not mean he is unaffected by how vulnerable he feels in the face of your unconditional acceptance.

"I admit it's a novel concept. A little intimidating.” Astarion stops again, musing over his words and willing for his voice to stop shaking. You wait patiently for him until he confesses, “For two hundred years, I used my body to lure pretty things back to my master. What I wanted, how I felt about what I was doing-- it never mattered. It would have been easy enough, honestly, to just bite her. Face a little disgust and move on from it like I did before."

“Astarion,” you begin softly, and he feels his neck prickle with an emotion unfamiliar to him: embarrassment. You pause then, finding the words you want to say. “I want you to keep telling me how you feel about things. I need to know what you're okay with and what you're not because,” and it is your turn to look abashed, “I don't always know what you want. I'm not the most observant person, and I would hate it if I accidentally made you do something you didn't want to do.” You breathe. “So, thank you, for telling me.”

“It's rather odd to hear you thank me,” he admits, and he unfurls fists he hadn't realized he was holding. He leaves it unsaid, how difficult it has been to be truthful to himself and to you. He isn't sure if he can remain so in the worst of times, but he knows this at least: he will continue to try.

He thinks it is the first time he has been given the chance to.

You make a face he would have laughed at if he were not so relieved. “I've said thank you to you before.”

“That is not what I mean, dear,” he replies dryly, and when he hears footsteps approach, he knows this conversation has reached its end. (An expert, Astarion carefully sews himself closed, though he leaves a stitch untethered so perhaps next time it will not be so hard to undo. The thought of being seen becomes less frightening when he knows it will be you.)

“Gale and I might've found something you might want to check out,” Karlach says, pointing behind her. “Looks rather nasty and sort of important.”

“Man, can we ever separate the importance from how disgusting it ends up being?” You bemoan, walking up to Karlach and easily accepting the arm she puts around your shoulder. “How gross?” 

“Quite nasty, even to our standards,” Gale replies, grimacing. “I think that's saying quite a lot, considering our adventures so far.”

Astarion hears you mutter a small ‘ew’ under your breath and he huffs in laughter. “Well, as long as it involves blood and violence, I'm sure it won't be too terrible of an encounter,” he says. 

Entering the adjacent bowels of an illithid colony threatens that viewpoint, but the rest of them are too preoccupied with their own thoughts to call Astarion out for it. All in good time, he thinks as he brushes off the organic bits off his clothes without drawing attention to himself.

.

.

.

Shadowheart is beside herself when they enter the Gauntlet of Shar. As one of the only and largest places of worship of the dark goddess, it is impressive in its grandiosity and in how unwelcoming it makes itself to be with its dark corners and tall pillars. If Shadowheart finds rapture in the temple, Halsin and you find it unsettling with how cold it is, though you keep your opinions to yourself. 

For Astarion, he finds the temple rather homey; it is quiet and lonely, but it is still leagues better than the dreaded halls of Cazador's castle. When he tells the party just as much, he receives matching looks of incredulity. 

“Do you… happen to like tall ceilings, Astarion?” You ask, comically sincere about it. 

“Perhaps he sees the beauty in the silence,” Halsin offers. “It could be seen as…” He pauses. “Peaceful.”

Astarion sees Shadowheart turn her head a tad too late to hide her laughter. 

Peaceful is giving the Gauntlet too much credit. The silence of the temple is unsettling at best, abandoned by those who used to worship it. Abandoned, it makes for a lovely home for a devil– more specifically the orthon they are tasked to kill in order to fulfill Raphael's deal. 

Astarion could care less why Yurgur is here, but if the absence of living Dark Justiciars is of any indication, the orthon must have overstayed its welcome after the war. His ability to turn invisible is a tad irritating but he and his army are no match for them and their combined wit. You have quite the arm to throw his bombs back to him, and in the aftermath, there is nothing but dust. 

As though he were watching, Raphael appears to them soon after to uphold his end of the bargain. He seems a midge too satisfied to be revealing the truth about the devilish contract etched onto Astarion's back, but perhaps he is simply happy to have gotten rid of his enemy vicariously. Astarion pays no mind to the devil when he leaves, mind whirling with the implications of the truth. 

In short, it is overwhelming. (The feeling is quickly becoming familiar.) Two hundred years of questions finally answered. The reason for his pain all those nights ago, the horrors he has had to face all these years finally having meaning. It is a dreadful conclusion to result in, with more problems introduced than closure given. 

Astarion lets out a thoughtful hum, and the concern on your face would be funny if his thoughts weren't so preoccupied. "You okay?"

"It's a lot to take in." Astarion pauses, looking over to you as you wait patiently, though there is still a veneer of concern behind your eyes. He finds that in your patience, he realizes he is afraid–of what is to come, and what this revelation means for him. Another realization is the fact that he trusts you in full. It should scare him, the way he feels like he can turn to you for help, but it does not--not as much as it used to. "What do you think I should do?"

"Well," you begin placidly, "anything to do with devils and demons never ends well. And," you glance at him, "the sacrifice of all vampire spawn doesn't sound too good to me."

"There's only the seven of us," he says, though he knows one is already too many for you to leave dead. The thought both irritates and comforts him in equal measure, especially when you give him a practiced look of exasperation. "Though that does include me. Just when I was about to start enjoying life again."

"And about Cazador." You continue plainly, "I don't think you'll be free until he's dead."

His heart leaps, and then something settles. How quick you are to get to the heart of the problem, not that he will ever admit it to you. "I hate," he says, "how right you are. If I thought he'd stop at nothing to find me when I was just his plaything, he'd go to the ends of Faerûn to bring me back knowing this contract." He swallows inaudibly, preparing his next words. "We need to take the fight to him, but I can't do it alone."

"You won't be," you say so easily. It pulls at heartstrings he wasn't aware existed. "You'll have me."

"Yes, well." He clears his throat. "Let's not overestimate ourselves; the two of us will certainly not be enough to go against a true vampire lord. Though..." Astarion trails off, trying but failing to stave off from the warmth that courses through him. "For what it's worth, thank you." 

Your smile is beatific, and Astarion begins to think perhaps he doesn't deserve you. 

.

.

.

As the umbral gems are collected, it begins to feel like the beginning of the end for the shadows that lurk. Everyone can feel it; it is the way hard conversations are beginning to be had, all loose ends tying up before the coming of a new chapter. Astarion sees you speak to Gale about his so-called destined fate to die against the Absolute, to Arabella about her future beyond her parents’ death, and to Karlach about hard decisions and an ending that seems all too close to come. You are busy with all matters of import that Astarion has not had a moment's time with you for the past few days.

He loathes to admit it but he finds himself missing your company. A ridiculous notion, he is sure. It's not as if he has not seen you around camp or not exchanged words with you at all. If anything, you still proactively seek out opportunities to see him when you are free, but all attempts to find the time to spend with him end up taken by someone else. 

Astarion remembers once upon a time when he had barely cared to recognize the effort you put into spending time with him. Now, when he is bereft of your presence, he cannot stand the fact that everyone seems determined to thwart your every attempt.

He says as much to Karlach– though he may have complained more about your busy-body schedule than admit the fact he finds himself in want of you. Much to his dismay, Karlach is similar to you in the worst of ways, seeing through him easier than most. Though it may be due to her straightforward manner more than anything. 

“Aw, Astarion, if you miss them that much, you can try to see if you can talk to them when they’re free too. Ooh!” She exclaims in excitement, “Do you want me to distract everyone for a little while? So the two of you lovebirds can have a moment together?”

Astarion is quick to turn her down. It embarrasses him to a degree that he misses you. He doesn’t think he is quite ready to admit it to himself, let alone to other people. It feels… final, like a turning point that Astarion isn’t sure he can take– should take. Surely, he thinks, you find other people’s company more enjoyable? “No, that won’t be necessary, darling,” he says airily. “It is hardly that important to warrant that much effort from either of us.”

He thinks Karlach’s look is much too sympathetic for his liking, so he excuses himself to read the Book of Thay again. At least then he won’t have to listen to his own thoughts.

That being said… Astarion's gaze follows you when you flit back and forth in camp. The book lay in his hands, opened but nearly forgotten, and he starts to take Karlach's words into consideration. Surely, initiating conversation with you should not be that hard? He has propositioned you twice already with no qualms and yet he doesn't know what to say to get your attention when it is not of sexual nature. He has never cared to, never been able to if he wanted to– and now when he has the chance, he stands rooted to his spot, unable to do a thing when Wyll asks you to dance with him as though it is second nature. 

And of course you would accept– why wouldn't you? 

He may have grown out of prince charmings and fairytale endings, but you? There could not possibly be a better match for you than Wyll, who is the epitome of everything you could ever dream of. Handsome, righteous, selfless– Wyll is the hero of every storybook, and Astarion would not be surprised if the heavens decided to make you for each other. Wyll twirls you in his arms, leading you with a gentle hand that is befitting of your nature. And you laugh, light and joyous, the two of you looking at each other with bright eyes.

Astarion would never doubt the fun that the two of you have together. But he knows you would want more than that. You dream of true love and world peace, dressing up in all white and walking down the aisle to swear yourself to another person for life. You bleed love with your every touch, and he has never tasted love until you. 

He doesn’t know if he will ever be capable of loving you the way you deserve. (After all, what has he ever given you but lies and deceit?)

Astarion watches as you take a deep bow, laughing all the while as Wyll claps at your performance, and something inside him churns with an unfamiliar bitterness. Jealousy? Envy, perhaps. (Of who– maybe Wyll, maybe you, maybe both.)

But then you bid Wyll farewell and turn to him, and your face lights up as bright as moonglow. Astarion hates the way his heart trembles at the sight of you. 

“Hey, you,” you say to him warmly, and a part of him wants to be spiteful– for invoking uncomfortable emotions he does not know how to deal with. The other half is simply glad that he has you at last. 

Bad habits are hard to break though. “I see Wyll has made you his latest dance partner,” he says, unable to remove his scathing tone. You are more surprised than upset at his sudden animosity, which is a boon in itself. You look at him curiously though, with eyes that see into him too well for his sake, before you reply.

“For practice.” You say carefully, “For somebody else.” Before Astarion can inquire on who, you change the subject. “Do you know how to dance?”

“I know enough.” He clears his throat, continuing, “Dancing is an easy way to proverbially and literally whisk someone off their feet after all.”

Your eyes brighten at his words, and Astarion begins to think your earlier joy was not because you were dancing with Wyll but because you love to dance in general. “You want to teach me how to dance?” Your smile reaches your eyes, as it always does for him. “I bet you know how to ballroom dance. That sounds dreamy enough for you.”

“Without music? Hardly a dance,” he tells you, but when he sees you deflate, he is quick to say more. “When there is a proper setting, you can be the first to witness my skills personally.” He finds it inconvenient that his mood shifts with yours, because when your countenance lifts with hopeful anticipation from his words, he finds himself pleased to have caused it. “For now, I think my words will suffice in charming you just fine, don't you think, darling?”

“Confident you still have more lines to give me?” You ask teasingly, and Astarion is nothing if not a proud performer.

“Every time I heard the tieflings cry, I remember how you sounded crying for me,” he recites sultrily. “And now all these accolades from the Harpers are nothing compared to the sound of my name uttered from your lips.”

There is that familiar look of embarrassment and delight again. You laugh in response, leaning your head into his shoulders bashfully. “You're too much,” you tell him, your arm pressed against his. He relaxes at the warmth from your touch. 

Guilt, envy, jealousy: he yearns for you despite everything he cannot be. In the end, he is but a selfish man at his core, and whatever he wants he will take. Until the moment you choose someone else to love and to hold, he will simply count down the hours till the sound of midnight chimes. But he will not let you go until then– and not a moment later. (Though perhaps if there is a person he can learn to love, it is you.)

Astarion goes on, line after line, if only to keep you here with him. “If you don't remember how much you enjoyed it last time, I would like to try again.” He lowers his voice to a whisper and watches as your eyes darken in response, “Until you can think of nothing else.”

“I hope,” Shadowheart interrupts with mirth, “you know he practices these lines when you're not here.” 

Astarion sputters, and he narrows his eyes in mild annoyance when he sees Shadowheart pass by with a knowing smile. “Excuse me-”

“If you wanted your practice to be a secret, you might want to be quieter next time.” Shadowheart pauses. “Or perhaps not set your tent next to mine?”

“I don't know, Shadowheart,” he croons, “perhaps you might benefit from learning a thing or two from my charms.”

“Rather doubtful–”

Astarion hears you laugh long and hard as the two of them bicker. It is difficult to come up with retorts when he cannot help but be besotted at the sound of your joy. He hopes it is not obvious to everyone else.

.

.

.

His worries seem all the more unimportant when they complete Shar's Trial. It turns out that the Nightsong is not a relic but an aasimar--Selûne's own daughter. Astarion already knows a fight lies in wait the moment Balthazar stops talking. After Balthazar swiftly joins the land of the dead, it is Shadowheart's faith that is put to trial. When she refuses to kill the aasimar, Astarion isn't sure he should be impressed she would deny her goddess or by how spectacularly her goddess lost her trust in the course of the journey. 

It's one of the reasons why he has never subscribed to the words of any god. What have the gods done for those who believed in them? Queen Vlaakith, who now swears to destroy Lae'zel despite her intrepid loyalty. Selûne, who could not save Ketheric's wife and daughter or her own child from a hundred years of captivity. Shar, who took advantage of the grief in Ketheric and innocence in Shadowheart for her own means. Mystra, who plucked Gale from a young age and cultivated him into a man who never felt like he was enough. 

There is simply no use relying on them for anything. For what can they offer to him now when none has answered him once in the past two hundred years? 

Astarion thinks you feel similarly. You could have easily been a cleric, a healer of the people blessed by the gods. But instead, you walk the path of the paladin, an oath created not in servitude to a higher being but to the weak and vulnerable. (Even then Astarion thinks that is too restricting for him, bound to do good by others no matter the situation. Believe him, he's already been on his best behavior by not pointing the sharp end of his dagger at anyone who tries to trifle with them.)

He once believed that your heart could know no evil, so being a paladin was easy. But he has grown to know you like the curve of his bow, and you are no saint. You become angry at others, yell and curse, and gods, you had the attitude to match him from the very beginning so he should have known even then. 

But perhaps it is because you are like anyone else that your ability to keep your oath shines far brighter than any devotion to a god. It is a part of you that no one can take away, and it is a concept that both amazes and discomfits Astarion in equal measure.

Even now at the top of Moonrise Towers, you still hold mercy in your heart for a man like Ketheric. Of course you would sympathize with a heart like his, twisted and mangled beyond repair because of love and grief. Astarion wonders how long Ketheric Thorm has gone without anyone trying to understand him? A hundred years at least, since the death of his wife and child, and here comes a wayward paladin and their party of four, giving him a chance for redemption. 

Astarion watches as Ketheric Thorm, the human he was, falls without a fight, and in his place, rises the undead chosen of Myrkul.

They've gone from fighting goblins to living machinery to literal shadows. To think those pales in comparison to the avatar of necromancy before them, all bones and scent of death. It would be so easy to be afraid, but then Astarion looks at you, lips moving in a silent prayer for courage, and he finds it less daunting to know that you can continue to move on despite your fear.

You are quick to dispatch the party: a group to free Dame Aylin from her shackles and another to start the fight against Myrkul. As Astarion sees Wyll, Shadowheart, and Jahiera teleport themselves closer to the aasimar, he knows quickly what team he's on. (“We work well together, you know,” he told you once after knocking down the goblin camp. He finds it somewhat comforting to know that statement is still true today.) 

“Ready?” You ask him, a scroll of dimensional door in your hands. 

“Darling,” he drawls, long bow in hand, “I thought you'd never ask.”

It ends up being a hard battle: cold, grasping hands of death from the unliving attack from all sides, the avatar of Myrkul summoning horrors beyond comprehension when they get close enough. And still, Astarion's hands remain steady as they aim deadly arrows toward a deity until it falls just like anybody else. 

“It's over,” he hears you breathe out, eyes wide as Ketheric falls to his knees for the very last time. It is a horrible sight to see a man in his last minutes, soul broken by grief and the gods that took advantage of that, and body broken by the aasimar he deceived in turn. Still, when your hand finds his in the aftermath of such horrors, he understands two things: he has never cared for someone like you before in his life, and all things must come to an end. 

It is only a matter of when. 

(And a third thing– Astarion understands Ketheric Thorm more than he realizes. For what are they both if not selfish, foolish men willing to do everything to keep what is theirs?)

.

.

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They stay behind to help the Harpers rebuild the Last Light Inn. It's enough time to see where allegiances lie, who is to join them for the final act in Baldur's Gate, and to see the glimpse of the shadow-land curse ebbing away. Astarion doesn't know who, but someone suggests a celebration of victory as an ode to those who had fallen, and suddenly life is breathed into the land and its people. 

He's always loved a good party and he figures everybody feels the same. He can only hope the wine that's provided is even a smidgen better than the one in the druid grove. And he deserves a break– all of them do. Astarion watches as the Alfira and Lakrissa drag you away to some pre-celebratory hangout during the event's setup and cannot find it in himself to be anything but amused. 

As it turns out, in between the cobwebbed walls and doom-and-gloom, Moonrise Towers has plenty to offer for the celebration. The leftover rations– whatever is still good after the battle anyways– serve as the basis of a banquet. The old and dusty black and white robes and attires of the Selûnites that once occupied this place are still in good condition, if you discount the mothballs and eaten up bits. 

It makes for a nice change in pace for many at least, though Astarion thinks he'd rather wear something with embroidery than don a goddess’ servants outfit no matter how nice it is. It is a good thing Shadowheart is not quite Sharran or else there would be quite an upset. She is more preoccupied by her conversation with Dame Aylin than with the festivity preparations, but he knows she will join in due time if you have anything to say about it.

In the quiet bustle before the banquet, people flit back and forth, busy. Whether they are preparing the necessary things for the celebration, healing the wounded, making the burial grounds, or getting drunk ahead of the game, there is something to do. Astarion finds himself in the last category nursing a cup of wine and watching the processions, His Majesty curled up at his feet. 

The last person he expects to make time to speak with him is Wyll.

“Care for some company?” Wyll asks with a smile.

Astarion shrugs, hiding his surprise behind his nonchalance. “I suppose the wine can be shared.”

Wyll nods. “Much thanks,” he says, allowing Astarion to pour him half a glass before taking a cursory sip. Astarion follows after him, though he watches Wyll carefully in the corner of his eyes. 

“I've hunted demons,” Wyll begins, “orthons, devils, and monsters. When I met our leader, I never expected to eventually fight against a God. Did you?”

Astarion lets out an airy laugh. “Knowing who we're following, I can't say I'm too surprised.” He waves his hand flippantly before crossing his arms. “Goes to show even Gods can fall… and that paladins seek nothing but trouble.”

Wyll laughs at that, and Astarion tries to not make it seem like he's almost dropped the glass. “Makes you hopeful, doesn't it?” Wyll tells him, “That there's nothing that cannot be done at their side?”

And there it is, Astarion thinks wryly. Their single point of similarity lies in their affections for you. He was wondering why the righteous Blade of Frontiers was making conversation. But still, with the jealousy that swirls low in the pit of his stomach, he thinks of you and the miracles you have created from seemingly nothing and warmth spreads and overtakes any and all bitterness.

“Astarion,” Wyll starts, faltering for the first time. Astarion barely has enough time to turn to him when he continues to greater incredulity. “I was wrong about you. Truly wrong about you.”

What? Astarion stares at him for a moment before he realizes he's taking a moment too long. Being snarky comes like second nature. “Let me guess,” he drawls, “you thought I'd sucked blood, but instead I just suck. Was that your witty jab?”

“No! I mean it,” Wyll says. He is sincere as he always is, and Astarion wants to sneer at it, if only he wasn't reminded of you. (He's grown used to people saying what they mean, and part of him is scared of it.) “There's little between us we share, but you've fallen in love and stood by your lover. This is something this dreamer's heart can appreciate.” 

Wyll means you, he realizes. You and him: lovers. It seems to become less of a lie with each coming day if Karlach and now Wyll seem to see right through him. “I– thank you,” Astarion replies, bewildered, “I suppose.” 

“Pay it no mind,” Wyll tells him, clinking his glass to his. “After all the fighting we've done, it puts a lot of things in perspective. I don't want to leave things unsaid nor undone.”

Astarion snorts into his glass; hardly a charming gesture but he finds it easier to be less than such these days. “See, that's where you and I can agree on!” He says slyly, “Is that where all your night time dancing practices have been for? To woo your love at the first chance you get?”

Wyll coughs into his hand, and Astarion watches in glee as he grows embarrassed. “I hope you haven't seen me in the earlier nights; I was quite horrendous.” He sighs. “I can only pray that no one else has noticed besides you and our leader… I was hoping to keep it a secret until later.”

“Knowing our camp, it was never a secret to begin with,” Astarion says dryly.

“I just…” Wyll continues almost wistfully, “I want to give her something to look forward to. She deserves the world after everything she's been through– let alone a dance to truly and well whisk her away.”

Astarion can see the lovestruck gleam in Wyll's eyes as he talks, and he recognizes that look not when he looks at you but instead… “Karlach?” He asks, watching as the mighty Blade of Frontiers fidgets in place, “So you've been practicing your dances for Karlach?” His smile widens not unlike a cat who has captured a canary, both from the fact he has nothing to fear from Wyll and from the way he now has the ammunition to tease the man. So this is what it means to kill two kobolds with one stone. “I hope you haven't been practicing other things without her too.”

“Astarion, please.”

It's moments like these when Wyll is trying to sink into the floor from mortification that he is reminded how young the warlock is. He never imagined talking about love with him of all things, but here they are– it surely isn't the strangest situation he's been through. “I'm sure Karlach would be happy to have you ask her to dance, skills be damned.”

“I'm sure,” Wyll says warmly, “but I want to give her only the best, if I can.”

And if that wasn't another sentiment Astarion has grown familiar with.

Before guilt can sink his mood, Astarion clears his throat. “You wouldn't happen to have a few dancing lessons in store for your fellow companion, would you, darling?”

Wyll is kind enough to not say anything to his question, though the knowing looks he gives Astarion throughout his guidance is reminiscent of Karlach that he escapes as soon as he is able. With the party soon underway, more people come into the main floor with fresh attire. Alcohol is poured and music is played with Alfira leading the fray. Lakrissa, never far from her lady bard, meets his gaze and nods her head upward. 

“Upstairs,” Lakrissa tells him with a wide smile. “They're doing some finishing touches. I'm sure they won't mind if you get them.”

There is that damned knowing look again, he thinks, walking up the stairs. He pauses for a moment halfway up, gazing at the party quickly underway and at the people he has met thus far. He spots Dammon and Karlach talking near the door, Wyll across the room building his courage to ask her to dance. Shadowheart and Lae'zel sit at the bar drinking in surprising camaraderie next to Rolan and his siblings, still ribbing him in usual manner. Harpers are scattered in the room, Jaheira to the side watching on after having said her goodbyes prior; she will be joining their party to Baldur's Gate, after all. 

Halsin was preoccupied with Thaniel so he may or may not be joining them later on, though Astarion doubts he would disappoint you by not showing up. Not seeing Gale in the midst if the celebration is strange, considering how much more eager he is to converse with others. Astarion's pondering answers itself when he sees Gale exit your room.

“Ah, there you are,” Gale greets him cheerily. “They're about done with their preparations– they thought they'd ask me for my opinions on their appearance. And despite my admitted inexperience in the matter, I hope I did my due diligence in reassuring them they looked fine. The rest is up to you, I'm afraid.” He puts a hand on Astarion's shoulder and squeezes lightly, and the look in his eyes grows somber for just a moment. “Treat them well.”

If he had a heart still, it would pang with guilt. “Don't I always?” Astarion says airily, and Gale gives him another pat and a wide smile.

“That you do, my friend,” Gale says warmly. “I am ever glad to see my two good companions happy together. Best wishes to you both.”

Gale leaves him and Astarion stands outside your door, unsure what he is waiting for. He peeks inside, watching as you tinker with your jewelry in the mirror. In the reflection he sees you in all your glory. You are beautiful as ever in your evening attire, simultaneously dashing in your knightly way as you are beautiful and warm and real. You notice him in the mirror and turn to smile at him, and guilt settles into him like lead.

You deserve more, he thinks with finality, and Astarion knows then he can no longer delay the inevitable, despite himself. You must know the truth about his intentions for you, even if it pushes you away from him and renders your protection for him. You deserve nothing less but his honesty. He only wishes he were not so cowardly as to have done it sooner, if only to not ruin the rest of your night. 

(But the truth is, Astarion has a little hope that you will still love him despite it all– because he thinks he wants something real with you too.) 

“There you are,” you say warmly, walking up to him. “Are you ready to dance?” You take his hand in yours, and he holds onto you for dear life. 

"I was waiting for you,” he tells you weakly. He squeezes your hand as if asking for strength. “Do you have a moment? I think we need to talk."

Lovely as you are, you are nothing but concerned for him. "Yeah, sure! Are you okay?"

"Oh yes, I'm fine,” he tells you automatically. Deflection comes easily for him. “I just-- feel awful."

Your sympathy is almost too much to bear that Astarion musters up the will to push forward before your compassion weakens his resolve. He must confess now or he never will. He swallows painfully.

"Look, I had a plan,” he begins to explain, “a nice simple plan. Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you'd never turn on me." He lets out a shaky laugh– entirely inappropriate and unreflective of his feelings, but what else is he to do? Does he even deserve to show you how much turmoil he has gone through to reach this point in telling you? 

"It was easy,” he continues, trying to ignore the way his chest twists painfully when he sees you flinch, hurt. “Instinctive.” He lets your hand fall from his as he gesticulates, weaving his story dramatically in the only way he knows how lest he feel too much. Your arms draw themselves in as if to brace yourself for a blow, and all Astarion can think is that he must– he must continue on for better or worse. He cannot bear doing this a second time. 

“Habits from 200 years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it,” he tells you. Astarion feels his voice shake. “And all I had to do was not fall for you. That was where my nice, simple plan fell apart."

He sees a flicker of something in your eyes as he finishes. He can't quite place what it is– he can hardly begin to process how he's feeling at the moment. But the truth is finally out in the open, and the tension in his body is pulled taut like a bow string as he waits for your response. He wants so desperately to make excuses, to go on about anything that would salvage his relationship with you, but he won't. You have been patient with him time and time again, and it is only fair for him to do the same.

No one ever told him how hard it would be though. To wait. You stand only a foot away from him and yet the distance between the two of you feels vast.

"...So,” you begin quietly, “did the nights we spend together... did they mean anything then?"

You're ridiculous, he thinks, almost laughing in fond incredulity. He half expected you to storm out of the room, demanding he never speak to you again. The fact you are still talking it through with him is more than he could ever ask for. "Of course it did,” Astarion tells you fervently. “That's the problem. Or part of it. You–” His voice catches with emotion. “You're incredible. You deserve something real.” 

He watches as you blink in rapid succession, willing the tears that come easily to you away. Astarion thinks about the way you yearn for simple touches, sweet romances, and true love. And even if he does not yet know how to love you the way you want, he knows this: “I want us to be something real."

Astarion reaches his hands out to meet yours before he realizes it is happening. The utter relief he feels when you close the distance (so small yet so far) between the two of you is insurmountable. He thinks you can feel the way his hands shake when you hold onto them. Or is that you? He thinks, savoring the warmth seeping into his skin. No matter– nothing else matters but the way you are still here with him now.

"So do I,” you say wetly. “More than anything."

Astarion knows better than to look into a gift horse's mouth, but it is in his nature to question when good things happen to him. His question comes out quietly, disbelieving, "Really?" 

And he can see your expression soften-- not of pity or sympathy-- just affection as you huff good naturedly, as though he were just absolutely silly for doubting you. "Yes, of course," you say, cupping his face just as gently before you wrap your arms around him, pulling him close. 

You are warm in his arms with the sweet scent of lilac. 

When was the last time he has been held like this, he wonders. Without precontext for sex or expectations for something more. Like when he was helpless but to see you preoccupied with others, it is in times like these Astarion realizes he is inexperienced when it comes to affection in its purest form. It makes him… lost in a way, to know what he does not know. 

[Can he tell, you wonder, that you've been wanting to hold him like this from the very beginning? To make him feel safe. To let him know he has nothing to worry about, at least when it comes to you. You hold him tightly, and if love could be poured out from you to another, you would have it spill over and more.]

But you don't seem to care. You never have. Giving little bits of affection to him wherever he can accept it without expecting anything given back. He wants to learn how to be with you starting now.

Moving his arms around you to embrace you is unfamiliar, but his hands find purchase on your back, palms flat and firm. Your heart against his chest beats steadily, and Astarion finds that he doesn't want this moment to end. He feels vulnerable in a way he has not felt in a long time, if ever. Everything seems easier to say to you, now that you accept him, flawed as he is. 

"I just,” he begins quietly, “don't know what real looks like, not after two hundred years of playing the rake. Being close to someone, any kind of intimacy, was something I performed to lure people back for him.” 

He feels you pull away, but only for a moment before you are holding his hands gently. He continues, “Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels tainted.” He feels his mouth twist at the word, and he looks down, shame burning his tongue despite himself. “Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing.”

“I don't know how else to be with someone,” he confesses, “no matter how much I'd like to.”

Silence fills the space the two of you take up. It would feel suffocating if not for the way you rub his hands with your thumbs, grounding him to this moment. It feels so easy to just run away, but he stands with you until you find the words to speak. You tell him finally, “You are important to me no matter what you're going through.” His breath catches. “And if that sort of intimacy makes you feel uncomfortable, we can be together without sleeping together for as long as you need.”

You are firm with your words, and Astarion blinks away wetness in his eyes and tries to reach for levity as he always does. “Why, that almost sounds like a challenge,” he says, and when you do a little laugh, he feels lighter. 

The two of you are by no means a perfect union. Far from it: who would ever imagine a vampire rogue and a devoted paladin to be a match for each other? And yet, you want to make the two of you work. He wants it to work, whatever it is they are. Rather than fear or apprehension, he finds himself in anticipation for an unknown destination with you by his side. 

(It feels a little bit like death, in a good way. To imagine this is how people feel all the time– excited and terrified all at once; how do they all do it?)

Astarion lets out a laugh of his own. "Honestly, I have no idea what we're doing. Or what comes next,” he says. He raises his hands where they are connected to you. "But I know that this? This is nice."

Your smile is wobbly with emotion, and your eyes shining with an affection that Astarion has grown familiar with. "Dance with me?”

Astarion responds by taking one of your hands and placing a kiss at your knuckle. The smile he receives from you is daylight and he basks in its presence. “Shall I take the lead this time, darling?”

“Only just this once,” you tease, and he is almost giddy at the banter. Oh, how quickly the two of you begin anew, as if no hurt has been done. Eyes wet with emotion now dry and upturned from mirth as Astarion dramatically presents your hand, walking down the stairs to join in the banquet.

How ridiculous mankind is, for celebrating while their fate looms over the horizon at Baldur's Gate. How incredulous people are for still holding onto hope even when hope seems all but lost. Astarion still thinks it unwise to trust others in a world where only the strongest survive, but perhaps he has changed just a bit if he thinks it is not quite so impossible to believe in it himself. 

He is not healed– and he feels he will not be for some time, not as long as Cazador still lives. But much like the shadow-cursed land, he feels as though he is healing. At your side, with his hand on your waist and the other entwined with yours to twirl you on a wooden dance floor as you laugh until you are breathless– he can finally try.

And perhaps that is all that matters.

.

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(Sleeping beneath the stars, a night before reaching Baldur's Gate, Astarion thinks about how you have given him precious, impossible moments of comfort. He had only expected to have a few more before an untimely death but after time and time again, the two of you live. 

But just how long will that luck last? 

With Cazador, the two avatars of death, and the elder brain looming over their fates, Astarion feels a fear unlike what he has ever faced, for he has far more to lose than just himself now. It suffocates him. Because he is not good enough- not strong enough. Not for you, not for Cazador, nor for the gods that never answered him. 

Unless…

If he takes Cazador's power for his own, if he can ascend and become a creature far beyond a true vampire… he can finally keep the two of you safe– for good. From all the evils of the world, from the Cazadors, from whoever dares to threaten the two of you.

Whoever must be sacrificed to make it happen be damned. Astarion will be selfish enough for the two of you. 

A part of him wonders if you will still love him then.)

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x you #astarion/tav #astarion/reader #thank god i split act ii into 2 parts

[whumpthefuck]

I love the idea of a "loving" Whumper. They're obsessed with Whumpee, they wanna do anything and everything to make them happy, or at least what Whumper THINKs will make Whumpee happy.

Whumper touches Whumpee softly, whispering in their ear "I know you're scared, just relax, I can make you feel so good." Whumper tells Whumpee how good they're being while Whumper uses them.

Whumper softly wipes Whumpee's tears away "It's okay, I know it hurts, you're doing so well though baby."

Whumper cooks Whumpee elaborate expensive meals, and treats them to food they'd never have been able to afford before.

Whumper dresses Whumpee in expensive fabrics and expensive jewelry, but no matter how Whumper dresses Whumpee up, they're still a prisoner. They still don't have autonomy, Whumper controls what they do, where they go, what they eat, and what they wear, They look like they live in luxury, but they just feel more like someone's doll. Being dressed up and shown off like some shiny toy.

Bonus points if no one believes Whumpee when they come forward about the abuse. They have bodyguards (more like guards to make sure Whumpee doesn't try to leave) and purses that are worth more than most people's houses. How could someone like that be being abused, especially by the person who gave them that wealth??

When someone comes forward to Whumper about what Whumpee has been saying, Whumper just smiles and says something about Whumpee having some disorder or another that causes them to lie constantly, people believe Whumper. Whumper has done wonders to help their community, so it's easy to believe that Whumpee is just an attention whore, rather than to believe the person who has revived the community is secretly a monster.

When they get home Whumper beats Whumpee so badly that Whumpee isn't able to make a public appearance for at least a month due to how injured they are. Whumper tells people Whumpee is on vacation from social gatherings, maybe off on some cruise. So when Whumpee gets back they have to deal with people asking them about their "Vacation" reminding them further that no one will believe their story. They are only what Whumper says they are. No one is coming to save them, because no one can be convinced they need saving.

Whumper has done so much good for their community, that even when Whumpee starts showing up to parties with cuts and bruises, and can't stand up straight because of how doped up they are, people turn the other way. They don't want to lose all the support the community has gotten, maybe they're scared that the person they've put on a pedestal is not who they thought. Maybe they're scared that offending Whumper could lead them to move away, taking the financial support they've poured into the community with them.

So Whumpee just has to suffer in silence, no one will believe them, no one is willing to help them, and worse yet people call them lucky.

#whumpblr #whump #whump community #prompts #whump prompts #prompt #writing prompt #writing prompts #whump prompt

[nocturnesmoon]

Salubrious Waterways

Archaic Blood Masterlist: TF141 x Vampire!GN!reader

-You come into contact with an old inanimate foe-

There wasn't a lot of things you needed to look out for as a vampire. Compared to your mortal life, burdened with age, slower healing, lesser abilities, a need for sustenance and sleep, it was a lot better now as a vampire. There were just a few deadly things you had to look out for now.

The sun is the typical answer but not the first on the list if you're ranking from most deadly. For longer periods of times under natural sunlight, you'll get nasty burns and itchy feelings on your skin until it starts peeling off. Quite grotesque to witness but even more reason for your extensive gear.

Higher on that list is your bloodlust, you've seen other vampire spawn succumb to their hunger. The way they turn from thinking beings into feral animals, losing the rest of their bodily autonomy to a drive that makes them kill for blood.

When a vampire spawn got to that point, not even a vampire master would be able to control them any longer.

There are smaller things too, your severe allergy to garlic, your adverse nature to anything of pure silver, most things considered holy are things you stay clear off. It's not the hardest thing to achieve, running from these things. Most of the time you can get away with it by putting it in boxes of allergies and preferences.

However, there is one that's a bit harder to avoid on a regular basis, but an incredibly important one nonetheless.

Natural clear running water.

Considered holy in many different contexts, and despite being more prevalent in your young years, it is still just as true now. You had done your best at avoiding rivers, lakes, and creeks, on occasion rainfall too, though you find it doesn't burn as much when you just let rain seep through your gear.

It wasn't often you were faced with this dilemma, where something so simple could put you out of commission for an entire mission.

You and the 141 had been out for two days now, quietly hunting a new lead on a local group of monsters causing disturbances. It had been a bunch of nothing so far, most of the time spend holed up in a rocky safehouse, and the rest of it spend scouting a supposed meeting place for activity.

Much to your dismay, the area was prone to rain and full of rivers, creeks, and ponds. Far from the ideal place to keep a vampire, holed up for hours on end. The only lead you had that whatever monster was around here wasn't like yourself. You had hoped for it all to go a little faster, that you could finish up your objective and get back home where it was dry and safe.

Unluckily there hadn't been anything to record, all the hours you spent holed up on the cliff with different members of the team was starting to wear you down.

Being the one with the most energy out of the bunch you stayed up there longer than any of them. They put in place a rotating system that had you stationed the longest, with the accompanying eyes of each of them depending on the hour.

You were used to long missions spent in one spot, quietly observing the movements of others, but you couldn't deny that you were getting bored. Ghost’s jokes could be entertaining for a little while, just as well Soap’s stories about all the supposed grand things he’s done helped the silence.

Price and Gaz tended to have a similar idea of questioning you about your past missions. Gaz out of general admiration for your work through decades, and Price to most likely build a profile on you.

You don’t take offence to it, despite your displeasure of speaking of your origin before the military, he was far from the first captain that took interest in you that way.

But even if you enjoyed their presence, you couldn’t deny you were staring at a bunch of rocks.

“What’s the longest you've ever had to remain still?”

You tear your eyes away from the formation of boulders, and glare at the person next to you. Ghost had been completely quiet for the last hour, the only sound coming from him except his breathing, was the occasional shift so his limbs didn’t go numb.

“You too? I thought I’d only be hearing it from Gaz and Cap tonight.”

You shift your eyes back to the formation down the cliffside, there was a little cave entrance, the supposed home to a monster that could lead you a step further to the bigger group. You had proposed going in there under the guise of a fellow monster seeking asylum, but Price had refused.

“Filling the silence” he mumbled, keeping his eyes glued on the entrance like a hawk.

You let out an acknowledging hum, watching the way his eyes flickered around but kept the same area under surveillance. "A year" you answer him after a long moment of consideration, "I got locked inside a very small room, couldn't even stand up."

You don't miss the quiet shock coming from him, nor the concerned stare he sends your way. You squirm a little, already feeling the regret clutching at your lungs. You very rarely ever talked about the worse things in your past, and practically never would you mention your old master.

There was a long silence before he spoke up again, "Didn't you get hungry?"

"I fed on stale rats that did the unfortunate thing and came by."

You rested your chin against your arm, focusing on anything but him. You knew how people reacted to those parts, the disgusting things you'd have to do to survive and the pain you'd have to endure. You couldn't use their pity for anything.

Though much to your surprise he didn't give you the typical speech of pity and sorrow. He didn't say much of anything to it except that it sounded rough for you. You appreciated that he didn't dig, but it only made you curious as the horrors he might've seen to not be more shocked at your revelation.

"Ghost, sitrep" Price's voice crackled through the radio strapped to each of your chests. You felt your mind spark with worry for a minute, had he heard? Had he listened into the radios this entire time.

You were relieved to find that whether he had heard or not, he didn't mention it. Ghost updated him on the situation, how nothing had changed since the last time he checked in. It did make you wonder on the purpose of his checking; it wasn't due for a couple hours.

"Copy, you two come back, we're moving out, Gaz spotted the werewolf."

The werewolf had only briefly been spotted, but it was all you needed to know to be able to track it further into the woods. You were happy to be able to finally stretch your limbs once again, and everything was going perfectly until the tracks stopped at the river.

The sound of the water coursing through sand and stone raged in your ears. Your breathing turning shallow as you watched the rest of your team traverse the river and break the tension on the surface. Each one of them unbothered and unaware of your inner turmoil.

It was such a simple thing, and for it to put you out of commission like this was downright embarrassing, for your experienced age.

You could remember the first night you discovered how much water could burn. How your old master had soaked your legs in a form of purified water as a punishment for not procuring enough prey.

You weren't prone to such vivid flashbacks, but this time around it wasn't just a coincidence. The vivid memories also served to remind you exactly why this entire area was familiar. This was the same lake, the one deemed holy by a town that existed here quite a long time ago.

It was where your master had dragged you at the border of dawn, commanding you to execute the punishment on yourself and threatening to leave you out in the sunlight to burn.

You still had the burn marks to prove the tale, big patches on your legs and thighs giving away to a reddish tint. Not the only souvenir your old master made sure to give you.

These days when you were out on a mission and came across creeks and lakes, you were usually able to find a way around or simple jump across. It wouldn't be possible this time around, the river was too wide and stretched on for too long for you to take a detour.

You were abruptly called back to reality, the booming sound of your captain’s gruff voice calling your name.

"Are you coming?!"

He was already halfway across, the water almost reaching his waist, and splashing even higher. Gaz had already made it across, his brown eyes giving you a concerned stare at your sudden stop. Normally you'd be up front, insisting you could lead more easily.

Soap was almost across, and Ghost had stopped to look behind at you right at the start of the river. You watched their quizzical looks, realizing you were hesitating, and it was noticeable.

"Let's go already!" Price shouts again, "The wolf will get away."

You swallowed thickly as your eyes flickered between Price and the coursing river, he stood in. You watched on as Soap got tired of waiting and jumped up next to Gaz on the opposite shore. He kicked his legs around, trying to get some of the water out while complaining about freezing.

How you wished all you'd have to worry about was freezing.

"I can't..."

You take an instinctive step back, every fiber of your being giving away to barebones instincts that told you to run. Not just out of relived trauma, but the mere thought of having to make it across that river without getting burnt, got your vampiric senses to cripple in anxiety.

Price turned a little more to the side, his movements slow and sluggish from the pressure in the stream. "Are you kidding-  It's just a bit of water, it won't go further than your waist, let's go!" he commanded, unaware of its inherent effects on you.

"I can't!" you exclaimed back, more steadfast in your tone of voice, "I can't cross."

Price seemed to contemplate it for a moment, deciding whether it was worth arguing over. He had tried getting into arguments with you in the past, it was not something he particularly enjoyed, you were quite stubborn for your age.

"Ghost, stay behind, figure this out!" Price shouts towards him before starting to walk over to the other two sergeants, "We're going ahead!"

Guilt creeped in your throat as you watched Price and the sergeants go on ahead, despite their reluctance when seeing your expression. You listened to the quiet splash as Ghost went back on shore on your side, coming up to you without bothering to shake off the dripping water.

"Vampire thing?"

You nodded quietly not knowing how to phrase it, how to tell him that it was that and so much more going on inside your head. You looked towards the racing water; your attention only called back when you heard him move around.

"C'mere then" his voice rumbled as he lowered himself to a kneeling position. You looked at him confused, taking a long few seconds before you realized what he wanted.

"I...are you sure?" you asked him as you walked closer, unsure of his intentions to carry you across. He nodded firmly, grumbling something about having you hurry up.

Getting onto his shoulders isn't the easiest task for you, even when crouching he seems tall. You swing your legs over his shoulders and get comfortable, doing your best to not put anymore strain than necessary on him.

He raises himself off the ground, your change in perspective making you let out a silent gasp. His hands find your thighs, hooking around them and securing you to him. He gently pats your leg, giving you that as the final warning before he descents into the river once again.

You tense around him, holding onto him for dear life while your eyes stare intensely at the water below. The crossing wasn't very long, but every passing second felt minutes long in your terror. Every step of the way you felt his thumb gently rub against your thigh, a reassuring reminder that he's got you.

It was only when you got across and fully out of the water that you let yourself work the tension out of your muscles. You let out a big sigh, when the river started to disappear in the background, your sights now set on getting back with the group.

"Thanks Ghost" you tell him and gently pat his right hand that was still hooked firmly around your thigh while he carried.

"Don't worry about it" he mumbles as he traverses through the forest, following the direction the captain and two sergeants went in. You'd have to hope they hadn't drastically changed course down the line, the tracks the werewolf had made were already starting to disappear.

"You can put me down you know?"

He still didn't stop, his grip on your thighs squeezing a little tighter in reluctance. "Better not" he said and paused, looking for an excuse to expand on his reasoning, "There could be another river around."

You smile, seeing right through his excuse but not finding the energy or want to protest. You could let him have his fun; he did help you through a deadly situation after all. With a smirk on your lips, you start using your time high up efficiently to lead you both back to the group.

Another installment to the vampire reader, taking inspiration from different sources, a lot from DnD and Baldurs gate3.

It's so fun to write ngl

Though i think i need to find a callsign for our vampire, ofcourse it will still fully remain x reader it is not an actual name for them, but it will make it easier when characters need to adress them. Unless i just start using pet names, i could do that too- If anyones got any suggestions do let me know because i am blank right now-

#NoctMoon fics #simon ghost riley #john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john price x reader #tf141 x reader #tf141 x vampire!reader #tf 141 #Archaic Blood

[moonlit-positivity]

Some things about boundaries:

The word "boundary" is just a word that means "a line".

A line can be drawn for any situation, at any time, for any reason at all.

A line can be drawn for many reasons. Maybe you're tired of being treated a certain way, you're tired of giving finances to someone, you're tired of a parent treating you poorly, you're tired of taking on responsibilities that leave you drained. You have to draw a line.

The line is to separate you from the actions and behaviors and stresses of others.

The line is necessary bc without it, you're left suffering- often in silence.

You have to determine when, where, and how to draw that line.

The line can be drawn by removing yourself from the situation.

The line can also be drawn by making others aware of your lines ahead of time.

You can do this by spending some time considering what your lines need to be, when they need to be enforced, and how you'd like to enforce them.

There is no guarantee that others will respect your lines.

This is the first and most prevalent sign that you need to limit, withdraw, or consider other ways to protect your lines.

It is never your fault when others cross your lines. Sometimes it's unintentional. Mistakes do happen. But if it's a repeat offense then the problem lies with the person repeatedly disrespecting you, not you.

That being said, repeat line breakers often do not understand that you deserve respect. This is why it's up to you to draw that line in other ways.

Your lines are precious and absolutely deserve to be protected, respected, and considered in every aspect of your life.

Your lines can fluctuate. You can change your mind at any time. You can have strict lines with some people, and loose lines with others. You can change a loose line to a more stricter line, and vice versa. Please consider thinking long and hard before you do.

Lines can be hard to determine. Please do not be hard on yourself for not understanding how to draw them, or what they even mean. You deserve the time and space to figure it out.

Lines can absolutely be drawn with authority figures, medical practitioners, family members, siblings, parents, friends, co-workers, bosses, and other people who hold power over us.

You should never feel ashamed about drawing your lines. Your lines are precious. Your lines are there to protect you. Honor them well. Surround yourself with people who ask and honor them too.

Some lines can be as simple as "I dont respond to texts after 8pm." Some lines can be "i will block this person because they hurt me." Some lines can be "I am forced to interact with this person so I will be nice in passing, but I will not allow them any other access beyond that." Some lines can be "I don't give out personal information to people I don't feel safe with." Some lines can be "this situation causes me a lot of stress so I will step away and reconsider."

All lines are valid.

Lines do not have to be understood in order to be respected.

Everyone on this earth is entitled to drawing lines. You are included.

Lines are not just limited to adults. Children are allowed to draw lines too. It is necessary to allow them to.

So many lines can be drawn in life. Personal space lines, bodily autonomy lines, emotional lines, financial lines, work space lines, friendship lines, relationship lines, social justice lines, spiritual lines, personal lines, and so many more.

People who use your lines against you are not to be trusted.

Pay attention to the ones who justify crossing your lines. Those people are dangerous and should not be ignored.

You are allowed to draw lines even when others are mad at you or insist that your lines are too much.

If you are having trouble setting a line in motion, do some heavy thinking about what the hardest part is and go from there.

Sometimes in order to draw a line, we have to get comfortable with changing our current position in life. Sometimes the people we need to draw lines with are so intertwined with our lives that we have to uproot our entire system in order to cope & move forward. Please treat yourself with compassion while you figure it out.

You are always worth the effort to draw a line. No matter how big or small that line has to be.

Hope this can help. 🌸

#recovery #ptsd #trauma #mental health #boundaries #healing #setting boundaries #saying no #codependency #people pleasing #communication #emotional health #emotional regulation #self work #self care #inner work #personal growth #advice #life advice

[foliosriot]

Responding to the anon that said: "Why are y’all being so hostile towards the people who got their m&g/pic experience taken away?" Y'all realize that these are human beings and not a product, right? Right??????? I just need all of the people who are complaining to understand that this band are not fucking animatronics. They are humans. I want all of y'all who are mad to put yourselves into the band's shoes for a hot second and consider the ways y'all are upset about them exercising their right to bodily autonomy because what the actual fuck, are you seriously asking human beings to do something they don't want to do with their bodies right now? Because imagine that you have a very mentally and physically taxing job that you have to (and want to) perform perfectly every single night with only a night off every 1 1/2 - 2 weeks, during which you're traveling anyway. And then imagine like an hour before you have work, you don't get your "mentally getting ready for work" hour, and instead you have to hug 2 strangers a minute and look like you're loving every second of it even if you're exhausted which you probably are. AND THEN IMAGINE going on the internet and seeing some people who were the same people who paid to get close to you saying "idgaf if I have covid or I'm sick I'm going". Like, knowingly infecting you after we just survived a world trauma event caused by a disease so every time you cough you panic that you might have this crippling disease that could shut your whole job down. AND THEN imagine being too ill to fucking perform your job for DAYS and basically cut that job short. Imagine the fear of being fucking fired from your job (label) for that. Oh and while all of that is happening, there are also "fans" who are speculating shit about your life that caused you to have to fucking move house and leave the internet. AND THEN PEOPLE ARE MAD AT YOU for choosing your own safety and personal autonomy so you can feel safer delivering music to people over their desire to take a selfie with you. God fuckin damn, when did music become not about music? Fuck these people.

this!!!!

#bad omens #bad omens cult #bad omens band #alex! ❪ 𖤐 ❫ #alex’s anons!

[anamericangirl]

In #America you can’t be forced to give your organs to anyone, even if you caused the need for organs, the government cannot ever legally force you to donate a kidney or tissue or blood plasma, even if you are the reason someone needs it. So it follows that you can’t force someone to use their uterus to undergo a pregnancy that they don’t want. You don’t have to like abortion or think it’s moral, but making laws that people can’t choose to have autonomy over their own organs is fundamentally dangerous. You don’t have to think abortion is wrong, you can clutch your pearls and you can wind up reasons why fetuses are people, but it doesn’t take away that people are supposed to be granted medical autonomy and a person cannot be forced to use their organs in a way they don’t want to

It does not follow that you can kill your child if you're pregnant just because you can't be forced to donate an organ.

Y'all really need to stop with that organ donation argument because it is not comparable to pregnancy in any way. They are completely different situations that involve entirely different actions and the fact that's the default pro-abort argument just illustrates you guys don't know what you are talking about.

You are trying to say that not saving the life of a dying person is no different than intentionally killing a healthy person who would have continued to live without your interference.

You are trying to say that donating one of your organs is the same as one not donating an organ and having an organ in your body work for its intended purpose.

You are saying parents have no more responsibility to protect their children than they do to protect a stranger.

You are saying because you don't have to donate an organ to a sick person that translates to being able to violently murder your own child.

Pregnancy and organ donation are not the same and it's time to stop pretending they are.

You can think women not being able to kill their children is wrong and you can clutch your pearls and dehumanize the preborn to justify their murder but it doesn't take away the fact that bodily autonomy has limits and those limits are in place when it would directly harm or kill another person. It doesn't take away the fact that is the direct and intentional killing of a human child. The right another person has to live always trumps the right to bodily autonomy. Bodily autonomy is not the right to commit murder.

If the woman didn't want her uterus to be used for its intended purpose then she shouldn't have had sex and made the baby. You are in fact responsible for the life you create.

So cry harder.

#anon #answered

[shroudkeeper]

What’s Your Role in the Tragic Play?

tortured love interest ( Kikyo )

you're so hot. sorry about the horrors. you're the kind of person people immediately notice. whether you have a distinct style, are more outgoing, or are just plain beautiful, you make an impression. people usually feel the need to protect you, which probably frustrates you to no end. you're not weak! you're not fragile! you're not helpless! but the people in your life tend to disagree. maybe it's your lover, the protagonist, trying to keep you out of their own turmoil. maybe it's someone responsible for you in some way, keeping you away from your lover, while they head down an increasingly dark path. regardless, all you really want is a sense of autonomy! unfortunately, you're very likely to die before that happens. the audience will be so caught up in the grief your death causes the protagonist that they forget to grieve you as a person. you deserved better, but unfortunately, this is not your story. maybe it should have been.

Well dang. Thank you for the tag @thefreelanceangel - this was an interesting take! I do think the part that hits most is: people usually feel the need to protect you, which probably frustrates you to no end. you're not weak! you're not fragile! you're not helpless! but the people in your life tend to disagree. tagging the lovelies: @page-63 | @gatheredfates | @hallowed-ffxiv | @sundered-souls | @brazenelk | @tsupertsundere | @allyennah | @archaiclumina and of course anyone who wishes to do this for their Wol/OC. Here is the quiz!

#[ ᴏᴏᴄ. ] ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ #[ out of the woods ] #tragic play quiz

[defiantsuggestions]

Sometimes someone will mention their horrible abusive parent who've they moved away from.

I respond with encouragement and support, because of course I do. Leaving your abusive family is hard, it's something you should be proud of. Being over 18 isn't the only hurdle people face. There's financial abuse, the sense of loss, the fact you have to process all your trauma after, social repercussions, ect. Ect. Ect.

It's hard! And people will give you shit for it because """they're your family"""

So I'll be like, Good for you! You're doing your best! You should be proud of yourself! You should prioritize doing what's right for you, and don't let anyone tell you different!

And they will be shocked, shocked I tell you, that someone supports their decision.

To...you know...leave the people that have been abusing them.

There is something horribly wrong with society that it prioritizes parents over offspring(regardless of age!) to the point where "I'm an adult who moved away from home because my parents were too horrible to live with" is shamed and disapproved of.

Sometimes! Parents are bad! Sometimes! No amount of """but they love you""" is enough to take away from the fact they've caused nothing but suffering! Sometimes!! Just because a person happens to be a parent, it doesn't mean they are automatically deserving of reverence and respect!!!

I swear, some people worship the concept of parenthood so much that they'll refuse to see torture happening right in front of their face.

I've seen adults in their mid thirties get shamed for being """disrespectful""" for not bending over backwards to their parents every command. Like straight up being called a bad child for not doing what their parents want them to do with their life. Mid-thirties and still expected to obey their parent without question, mid-thirties and people are still demanding they give up their autonomy because """parental rights"""

I'm starting to think these people don't give a fuck about the children at all, they just want to train someone to be their servant for the rest of their life.

[blue-thief]

chuuya and the very, very screwed-up dynamics he has with others (attempted bsd analysis)

"chuuya-sama is the kind of person who would never abandon those who have helped him, even if they end up betraying him."

this line from adam in storm bringer sums up the core of chuuya's character in a single sentence. over the years, chuuya has sworn loyalty to numerous people, groups, and causes, and in some cases, these connections have proven his status as a human. unfortunately, in other cases, his sense of self and autonomy has been damaged by his devotion. what sort of positions has chuuya taken in these relationships? how have these connections affected chuuya as a person? will chuuya learn anything from the constant loss and betrayal, or will he be forever trapped in relationships that ultimately take more away from him than give?

chuuya's earliest friendships were formed in the sheep. after giving him a place he could call home, chuuya helped them go from a simple support group for homeless orphans to one of the fiercest gangs in yokohama that could rival even the port mafia. there was an understanding between chuuya and the rest of the sheep that in order to repay them for saving his life, it was chuuya's duty to protect them. it was only right, after all, since he was the strongest out of all of them—his responsibility as the strong one was to help the weaker sheep. he then became the infamous "king of the sheep", a title that seemed so glamorous that even one of chuuya's closest friends, shirase, desired that status. he was placed on a pedestal by his peers, and was removed from them to the point that shirase actually forgot that chuuya was his age, a kid just like him.

"chuuya's the one who did the fighting. chuuya dealt with the pain... and it only made sense. he's powerful, and he was simply fulfilling the duty he had as someone with that kind of power.

"but he's somehow weaker than usual now... i've never seen him like that. he looks just like a regular guy my age.

"wait, no—he doesn't just look like one. he is my age. he's a boy just like me."

then he was tragically ripped away from the sheep in a deal with the mafia in order to protect them. chuuya was forced to join the mafia, and it was there that he exchanged a few words with mori. mori said that a leader, even with all the power they have, is a "slave" to it because they must sacrifice their everything towards the organisation's cause. chuuya admits that is what he was lacking as the sheep king, and swears allegiance to mori.

but was that really something chuuya was lacking? wasn't chuuya already working himself to the bone for the sake of the sheep, all because that was his assigned duty? he had already dedicated his everything to the sheep, and he was doing it again with the mafia, only this time, the power dynamics have shifted. instead of being the king, chuuya was now the servant.

chuuya became mori's subordinate because he felt as though he wasn't good enough as a leader. he did everything he could for them, and yet, the sheep fell apart because of him. for this, he harbours immense guilt over not being able to perform his duties. this guilt of not doing enough is worsened by the death of the flags.

"this is your fault, chuuya." (shirase) glared at chuuya with a smile still on his face. —fifteen

"then why did he kill them?"

"i believe verbalising the reason would be meaningless."

"answer me! ...you're a machine, aren't you?! then give me a perfect, objective answer!"

..."because of you, chuuya."

...silence.

"yeah, it is my fault." —stormbringer

chuuya still wholeheartedly believes that it's his responsibility to save and protect others because of the strength he was born with, and he constantly beats himself up over not doing enough. the thought of failing others scares him. it's possible that this trait of his is part of the reason why detective murase wished to "bring him into the light".

despite being one of the youngest port mafia executives in history, chuuya has a peculiar affinity towards the "light". this is made even more interesting when you consider that his former partner, dazai, the "demon prodigy" with blood that is "mafia black", ended up on "the side of good" by joining the armed detective agency. dazai and chuuya are meant to be foils—will chuuya eventually follow dazai to the "light"? or will they always be each other's complete opposites, with chuuya, naturally drawn to helping the weak, on the side that brings harm, and with dazai, not truly understanding the importance of morality, on the side that saves others?

speaking of chuuya's relationship with dazai, their tumultuous and difficult history may be the key to chuuya's development (that is, if he survives this current arc). despite having an unwavering "hatred" for dazai, chuuya eventually surrendered into becoming his partner, and they never would have become the infamous double black if it wasn't for their firm trust and loyalty in each other. that all came crashing down, however, when dazai betrayed the port mafia, as well as chuuya.

the fandom has yet to see chuuya's true reaction to this sudden abandonment, but people seem to have split themselves into two very distinct camps. fanon interpretation seems to be either, "chuuya completely broke down after losing dazai and was never able to function as a person ever again" or, "chuuya is a total bad-ass who doesn't need to rely on dazai whatsoever and was 1000% emotionally stable after he left".

in reality, it was probably a mix of both. losing dazai was certainly not the end of the world for chuuya, and seeing how he's still a feared mafia executive indicates that he was able to keep himself together for the most part. still, dazai was an important person to chuuya and his development as a person; he was the one constant in chuuya's life since they were fifteen, and it wouldn't be completely unfair to believe that chuuya was emotionally distraught over experiencing one more loss.

on the other hand, this is not the first time chuuya has experienced loss. time and time again we have seen him recover and get through life as well as he can. however, in the case of the death of the flags, he was pressured by the likes of adam and mori into repressing his grief.

after dazai left the mafia, though, chuuya might have handled his emotions differently. four years is a long time, and chuuya likely went through much reflection about himself and his relationship with dazai, understanding that he doesn't need him, the same way he never technically needed anyone. however, he must have come to accept that dazai mattered much more to him than he initially realised.

chuuya accepting that he can and should exist as his own person outside of his relationship with dazai may be the first step for him to realise that he doesn't have to continue being the mafia's loyal dog. many people have begun speculating that chuuya may end up joining the armed detective agency (if he lives). the armed detective agency is a place where they do not care about the usefulness of their members—instead, they aim to provide their lost members a home and encourage them to help other people. the natural progression of chuuya's arc, if he is to receive a happy ending, would be to join an organisation like the agency to amend the co-dependent dynamics he wound up in over the years. he would fit right in, especially when you consider his natural affinity towards the "light".

i would like to believe there is hope for chuuya. i may end up regretting this prediction, but i can't help but believe that dazai has a plan to save chuuya, and a happy ending is in store for him. it only makes sense that he would finally recognise his own worth, leave the mafia, and pave a better life for himself. but i guess only time will tell.

#this has been sitting in my drafts for too long #sorry if this is incomprehensible #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd #nakahara chuuya #chuuya nakahara #chuya nakahara #nakahara chuya #bsd nakahara chuuya #bsd chuuya nakahara #bsd chuya nakahara #bsd nakahara chuya #bsd chuuya #chuuya #soukoku #skk

[tadpolebrains]

Heyy it's me again! Can I ask for another headcanon? I love your writing SOOO MUCH

So, in my Astarion romance play through the possible answer "maybe you need a friend rather than a lover" hit me and I was wondering, what about Astarion with a Tav who slowly becomes his best friend, making him realize that friendship exists? I dunno how to explain it better, just Astarion and Tav being BFF!

Thank you in advance, hope you're doing ok and drinking enough water <3

Hello again! :D

TYSM dhdhdh <33. And this did just make me go grab water so yup drinking well. That line you’re talking about- I really wish there was some way to choose it in game and then maybe after defeating Cazador get together once he’s in a more stable mindset. But welp, we take what we can get

Anywho, let’s do this

Tav & Astarion Besties

• Tav starts doing little things on the road for him, and it drives Astarion crazy at first as he tries to repay each and every little deed so he never falls in their debt

• They make sure he has some dead animal to feed on at night if they aren’t comfortable with offering their neck themself. They offer to fix his hair since he can’t see himself in the mirror. They just… want to hang out with him. And that confuses him to no end, because surely they’re expecting something in return

• So he tries flirting. Seducing. But they just chuckle at his advances or jokingly flirt back in a way that makes him question if they’re being serious or not

• Suffice to say, he’s baffled in the beginning

• After a bit of his advances clearly falling short, Astarion is at a loss. Because he doesn’t know what he can offer them if not for his body. Doesn’t understand what they want from him

• Then the Araj encounter happens, and they back him up. Support his autonomy. And… Astarion starts to realize that maybe they don’t want something from him

• Maybe, after all these years, he’s found someone good. And he can’t tell if he hates that or is relieved

• Still, he clarifies with them, and when they say that he truly just needs a friend, and they want to be that friend… he needs time to adjust

• He still reverts to teasing or lightly flirting, but over time chuckles with them at a corny line or bad pun he’s made. He finds it liberating, to joke about something he’d relied on for so long. To be allowed to find it cheesy

• They help him get used it saying ‘no.’ Start by just asking absurd things of him to get him to scoff and incredulously turn them down. The word feels less foreign on his tongue after a while

• Astarion would get in the habit of saying ‘no’ before doing something anyway. He likes how the words sounds. Tav asks him to pick up something they dropped? “No, darling, get it yourself” as he proceeds to grab it for them regardless.

• Friendly insults and banter. Astarion would enjoy having someone to fire back and forth insults with without it meaning anything.

• Gossip. You just know that once they’re close enough, Astarion would enjoy leaning over to whisper little gossipy comments into someone’s ear. “Oh, gods. The man two seats to our right has the hair of a straw broom. We best stay away, lest he shed on us.”

• Inside jokes. Astarion has always relished in causing a bit of havoc and confusion, so making Tav randomly burst out laughing by making a comment in the middle of camp that no one else understands is highly entertaining for him. Especially if they couldn’t possibly explain why it’s so damn funny

• Just… having a person to sit in silence with sometimes. Especially at night, if he’s had a nightmare. He doesn’t want pity. He just needs to lay eyes on another living being for a while. Tav has woken up multiple times to him watching them sleep.

• Eventually, getting used to small points of physical contact. High fives. Fist bumps. Astarion doesn’t understand the point of such gestures, but still has to stifle a smile whenever Tav bugs him into giving them a high five.

• Talking him out of ascension. Tav being living proof that there’s more to people than wanting to use him for his body or affections. Proof that he can have a life surrounded by close friends, and that he can be a good friend

• They’d still visit his grave together. It’s something he needs another person there for, since he doesn’t even know how he’ll react to seeing it after so long.

• Astarion sewing up patches in Tav’s clothing. Or fussing over their hair. Using the excuse of “we’ll be seen in public together, and I cannot be seen with someone who looks like they’ve crawled out of a sewer. Your appearance is part of my public image.”

• Tav running after him when the sun begins to burn him again. Sitting with him until the sun goes down, knowing him well enough not to mutter any reassurances that may be taken as pitying. Sitting there in silent solidarity and offering a hand for him to hold should he want it.

• If they don’t end up near each other, writing letters and visiting often. Always bringing random little trinkets that he’d complain about taking up space or being a pain to carry around, but keeps protectively

• Joining him to search for a cure to his vampirism later down the line.

#astarion #tav #bg3 hcs #baldur’s gate 3 headcanon #baldur’s gate 3 #rambling #this was a bunch of disconnected bullet points #but hey #thats what my brain wanted #astarion needs a bestie

[generic-sonic-fan]

you should share some of your favorite headcanons about omega/team dark with us. i’m in your inbox encouraging you to be as self-indulgent as possible. your last fic has me enamored, i want to hear about everything ever actually but that’s a good place to start 👀

My eyes stopped reading at "self indulgent" so get ready for my wordy, OOC, vibe-based take on Omega! Hold onto your butts, everyone, this is a long one.

To put it simply, there is no Team Dark without Omega.

Because while Shadow and Rouge are so concerned with coming off as Rational People Who Have Their Shit Together, Omega is completely, utterly, unabashedly himself. He's a rebel without a cause, in a way that rebelling against everything tends to cancel out on each other. I sound absolutely off my rocker when I say this, but Omega has a very similar vibe to Sonic for me. Of all the Sonic characters, second to guy himself, Omega is actually the one most concerned with personal freedom. This robot's fundamental tragic backstory is that he spent the first year of his life locked away in a basement, and now he's going to make it everyone's problem. Autonomy is his #1 guiding rationale. He does what he wants, he says what he wants, he kills what he wants.

He got hit with the "You are what you choose to be" thing that most fictional robots with guns strapped to them undergo, except he fully embraced being himself over being kind or moral.

. . . and this is why it bothers me so much when Omega is written as stiff and "logical" in Team Dark fics.

Shadow is the one that has the "stiff" thing covered for the entire team, since getting him to emote is like trying to unstick an industrial-grade magnet from the side of the fridge. Omega, on the contrary, is the one who challenges the status quo at all times, forcing Shadow (and to some extent Rouge) out of their comfort zones. He is the bringer of chaos! He doesn't care much about logic at all, not since he decided that his main response to every problem was calculating how many bullets he can fill it with. What most people get stuck on is the fact that he sounds like a stereotypical robot, his big words and clinical phrasing acting like camouflage to the enormous seething bundle of rage he is at all times.

And that's just the thing- Omega is proud that he's a robot. He's not going to try and talk more like a meatbag! Who do you think he is? He embraces having an extensive dictionary in his databanks, allowing him to pick the perfect word. He embraces his ability to calculate data at a rate no organic brain could hope to compare with. And oh, he's proud to flaunt both of those to show why he thinks he's right all of the time, but this doesn't mean he allows himself to be dictated by "rational logic". The only thing dictating him is himself. However, he's happy to let people assume that he is the most objective one in the room, either for his own advantage or because he thinks it's funny.

And GOSH is this robot fucking hilarious. He is absolutely the comic relief of Team Dark, but you have to understand that it's not in the way most people think. Most people write Omega being funny only in an incidental way- "haha, the killer robot doesn't understand things!" -but this kind of writing makes me see red. Look at me. Look me in the eyes. Say it with me: Omega is funny on purpose. He gets power out of making people do a double-take in his direction!! He wants to make people uncomfortable!!! He loves "owning" people!!! He wants to be the prevailing force in any social interaction, and to make people laugh is to have power over them.

And all of this, all of this, all of this, makes him a character foil to Shadow, which is why he's an essential spice when you're mixing up a fic about Team Dark. You've got the robot who knows exactly who he is in the same room as the guy who's whole narrative is about having an identity crisis. And they're both stubborn as hell about it. Omega challenges Shadow at every turn, in a way that makes Shadow reflect on his actions and who he wants to be.

Without Omega, it's only Shadow and Rouge. And don't get me wrong, these two are delightful on their own. Rouge has a dramatic streak in her, but it tends to mellow out when Shadow's around, since he himself is a very serious person. They tend to slow each other down. Remind each other to take breaks. Keep each other in check. And all of this is good! They need that kind of stabilizing effect that the other has, but sometimes this effect can bring each other to a standstill if they're not careful enough. Omega is the driving force that keeps them going, keeps them improving upon themselves, keeps them clawing their way forwards. He reminds them that at the end of the day, there's always a bigger picture (and that bigger picture is serving Eggman's head on a platter, but you get the idea. He's helping.)

Rouge supports Shadow. I agree with all the common fanon about this one, but allow me to add this- Omega helps Rouge support Shadow. He makes sure that she doesn't burn herself out by slipping into "overprotective friend" mode too often. He reminds her, sometimes harshly if necessary, that Shadow will survive despite getting triggered or angry sometimes. He tells her to take care of herself, stating "I REQUIRE MY TEAMMATES TO KEEP THEMSELVES FUNCTIONAL. I WILL NOT GO OUT OF MY WAY TO SAVE IDIOTIC SELF-SACRIFICING TEAMMATES". (And he's not lying here, not in the slightest; he relies on Rouge and Shadow to keep themselves alive. This was never even a debate. They know this. It encourages them to not be quite so reckless.)

To finish off this absolute monster of a post, let's ask ourselves one more question- what's Omega getting out of all of this, then? The simple answer is the talents of the world's best thief and the power of the hedgehog who can explode on command. And really, that's what it started with. Omega didn't get assigned on a team with these two hoping to make friends. The "friends" part didn't come along until later, much later, and even he's not sure how quite to handle it.

I received a lovely ask earlier from the person who provided this ask to me, which my fat butterfingers managed to delete from my inbox before I could answer, but I do remember one very specific idea that they suggested- Omega never pretended to be nice. It'd be weirder for Rouge and Shadow if he ever did. He was always transparent about how he considered them means to an end when it came to seeing his objectives complete. In order to utilize these means most effectively, he needed to maintain them. This meant learning more about them to ensure that they functioned at optimum capacity.

"Friendship" began with making sure they got enough sleep and that they ate their meals on time. Then came investigation into emotional damage, spurred no doubt by one of Shadow's panic attacks. Soon enough, Omega is learning everything about these meatbags, and in the process, he's. . . learning about what it feels like to be treated as a person?

Because there was never any mistake in Omega's processor about the fact that he's a person. He came to that conclusion long before Shadow and Rouge entered the picture. But he'd never been treated like one before. Hell, he hadn't even seen how a person was supposed to be treated by the world before he met those two. Now he's in a position where he's being treated with respect for the first time by these two meatbags while at the same time being able to observe how the rest of the world doesn't extend that same courtesy. He drew conclusions very quickly- in order to keep being respected by these two, he'd have to reciprocate their engagements and respect them back. One thing leads to another and now he finds that his attachment runs deeper than considering them mere "assets". He still doesn't quite know how to handle this, which is why, when pressed, he'll tend to stick to denial about it.

(There's definitely a "five times Omega denied that he cared and then the one time he admitted it" fic to be written about this, if you know what I mean.)

So, in a very stereotypical robot sense, he does learn about friendship and emotion and personhood and all that from Rouge and Shadow. But he's VERY closeted about it, as he'd rather deactivate than admit that he didn't, in fact, have everything figured out about himself since day one.

There is no Team Dark without Omega. But also, there is no Omega without Team Dark. Rouge and Shadow have been fundamental influences on him. People who write Omega as not having changed in demeanor much at all from other Badniks are so off the mark about this. To be loved is to be changed- and this robot is loved by his friends, and he loves them back in his own way!!!

#sth #e123 omega #e 123 omega #hate how this guy has two different tags #team dark #I'll never be normal about omega #I am. objectively incorrect about him. I acknowledge this #but it's about the VIBES OKAY??? #this isn't exactly headcanons but I hope it's acceptable #*slaps omega's bald head* this robot can fit so much emotion in him #if I see him treated as a non-character in a team dark fic ever again i'm going to take a page out of his book and go full murder mode

[whatiwillsay]

I really don't get people like you. Who seems to hate the other side so much. People have different opinions and just see some things differently. To me, the great thing about america unlike a lot of places is that if you don't like how something is in one state, you can move to a different state with different laws and different ways of life. Think about It like this if you got into an accident and someone came to help, are you gonna ask which party they vote for? If they say a different one to yours,would you refuse help? I wish people would be mature about politics and realise we all have to live amongst each other. Someone may vote differently too you, but that doesn't make them a bad person or a loser. Most people are multifaceted and have other things about them that make them a whole person.

you have lost the fucking thread if you think you're gonna come mewling to me, a queer woman, as a nasty piece of shit republican who took away my right to choice and bodily autonomy and is trying to take away my right to use birth control and my right to GET FUCKING MARRIED and my right to BE GAY IN PUBLIC. literally FUCK YOU. this city is 45 minutes away from me rn:

this was YOUR PEOPLE. this was YOU.

and don't even get me started on how much worse the republicans treat disabled people, people of color, and trans people.

if you're so fucking dense that you don't understand why a queer woman would hate the people WHO ARE TRYING TO MAKE HER EXISTENCE IN PUBLIC ILLEGAL then THAT IS YOUR PROBLEM.

"To me, the great thing about america unlike a lot of places is that if you don't like how something is in one state, you can move to a different state with different laws and different ways of life." YEAH CAUSE YOU'RE FUCKING STUPID you think this is a possibility for every marginalized person in this country? are yOU going to buy their homes from them, pay for their moving expenses, find them new jobs and places to live in a new state? NO? then SHUT THE FUCK UP.

god tbh part of why i loathe people like you is because I AM JEALOUS OF HOW EASY IT MUST BE TO GO THROUGH LIFE THIS FUCKING STUPID AND CLUELESS. just to bob through life like a brainless jellyfish never having to have a critical thought or worry about anyone else in your life.

PEOPLE WHO VOTE TO TAKE AWAY DISABLED PEOPLE'S HEALTHCARE AND SUPPORT ARE BAD PEOPLE. PEOPLE WHO VOTE TO FUND POLICE DEPARTMENTS THAT MURDER BLACK PEOPLE IN THE STREETS ARE BAD PEOPLE. PEOPLE WHO VOTE TO FORCE WOMEN IN NEED OF A LIFE-SAVING ABORTION TO DIE ARE BAD PEOPLE. PEOPLE WHO VOTE TO MAKE IT ILLEGAL TO BE GAY ARE BAD PEOPLE. PEOPLE WHO VOTE TO MAKE IT IMPOSSIBLE FOR GAY PEOPLE TO GET MARRIED ARE BAD PEOPLE. PEOPLE WHO VOTE TO FORCE GAY AND TRANS KIDS INTO CONVERSION THERAPY ARE BAD PEOPLE. PEOPLE WHO VOTE TO GIVE SOCIOPATHIC WEALTH HOARDERS MORE MONEY ARE BAD PEOPLE. PEOPLE WHO VOTE TO BUST UP UNIONS AND STEAL MONEY FROM THE WORKING AND MIDDLE CLASS ARE BAD PEOPLE.

PEOPLE WHO VOTE TO FORCE 10 YEAR OLDS TO HAVE THEIR RAPISTS' BABIES ARE BAD PEOPLE.

YOU ARE A BAD PERSON.

and you are not welcome in this space. i don't know how you found this blog but fuck off. i hate republicans. i hate you. and if you're a gay republican you are indeed a fucking loser.

#i think that's enough politics for today

[meat-wentz]

ok so my sexuality-based analysis of Jennifer's body effectively boils down to Jennifer controls all sex and sexuality that she is even tangentially around, which, prior to The Event, I believe can be interpreted as both genuine sexual desire but also a wish to grow up quickly, be taken seriously, and/or gain power. Post-Event, it's quite obviously a reclamation of autonomy and control, although it also does leave room for her own desire (see: kissing Needy)

Needy's sexuality, on the other hand, is almost entirely under Jennifer's control or influence. In the instances where she attempts/has sex with Chip, Jennifer's presence interferes and the encounter ends with Needy leaving for Jennifer. Same thing with most of the kisses. Hell, Jennifer dictates how much of Needy's body she can show.

(I am So sorry, i don't remember who holds whose hand first in the bar scene, but if I did I would put that in here)

And the kiss between them, Jennifer wants it so she takes it, and once Jennifer's given her the okay, Needy is in the clear to kiss her back? Cause otherwise, she would have just continued to keep it bottled up, as usual. Because maybe she can kiss Chip on her own, but not Jennifer. that has to be given, not taken.

I'm sure none of this is new analysis or anything but it just leapt out at me so obviously with the first watch. Teenage girlhood and overreaching and smothering and the cooler friend whose consent you need for everything and her manicured fingers reach into every corner of your life. Trying to learn who you are. Coming out the other end with some of her fucked-up self in you, because there's no getting out of that unscathed.

And, on Jennifer's end (which I'll admit I understand less but I want to give her her due as well), feeling so horribly out of control, eaten up from the inside that you have to stake down every loose thing around you cause you just do. cause you'll be damned if you let yourself get burned that bad a second time, plus it feels good to be the center of someone's world. Getting away from yourself. Not caring enough to stop. Needing to be Stopped, and even then there's a vengeful shadow that keeps going long after you're through.

THIS MOVIE I UNDERSTAND YOUR OBSESSION

(also I'm sorry if my analysis is bad I'm not very good at media, this is just my vibes. also I was tired when I watched it so I might not remember everything perfectly)

you're so right and you should say it!!! like this movie is so rich in nutrients, there's so much to take in. like there's something about your best friend when you're in high school, there's something there where, yeah you have a romantic relationship, but nothing is as strong or as meaningful as the obsession you have with your best friend. in the script, needy says "i've always been able to feel what she feels, just not like this," and i think that's such a perfect encapsulation of what it's like, you've been attached at the hip for so long that you're vulnerable to the sensations of being the same person, and the pain of severing that bond in order to become your own person because as long as you remain together, you're under threat of being swallowed whole, completely devoured, overtaken, and the rotten gore of having to rip yourself away from them.

there's a possessiveness in jennifer that's so relatable in its specific type of toxicity, the desperate grasping attempt to hold onto the one person in her life that makes her feel not only understood, but in control. to the point that she would literally slaughter those around her to keep her dependent on her, no more colin, no more chip, only jennifer. it's the way girls are put in competition with one another, it's that desirability is threatening, sexuality is threatening, a girl in control of her own body is threatening, how terrifying it is to be in competition with the person you love the most, how terrifying it is to be the singular object of her affection. you've always been dazzled by her, you've always loved her, and that terrifies you more than anything once you realize she hasn't "changed," she's always been like this, she's always kept you close because you make her feel in control, superior, powerful, she wants to be your everything because it means she'll never be left alone, she wants to be your everything because you make her feel like she's everything.

like this movie is literally so genius because it speaks to that type of relationship so strongly, the mortal obsession with your best friend, the way you two would tear each other apart, the way you two would blur the lines of that relationship because nothing feels more potent than this, than you two, in your room, stuck together with all the pain you've dealt upon one another, the way you two would blur the lines of each other, becoming one another, the taking the taking the taking, give me everything you have to give, be my everything and let me be yours. it's layers upon layers of teenage girldom and teenage girl politics and the way teenage girls love like they could tear the whole world apart. boys are just morsels, but you, you're everything to me.

#ANON #ASK #GAHHHHHHHHHHH #UGH YES YES YES YES YES #JBFOB

[etherealspacejelly]

I fear that i would be sad and becoming a hateful bigot that calls anything that’s different to the norm ‘bad’.How do i become not like this?

well i think the first thing to do is to throw out the idea that you have any clue what 'normal' even is! because none of us do!

normal is a very subjective term. it is affected by the country you grew up in, the culture and religion of your family, the media you consume regularly, the people you spend time with most often, the list goes on

you will never truly understand the vast extent of The Human Experience because there will always be experiences you cannot relate to or empathise with no matter how hard you try. so you need to get into the mindset that Every Single Human Being deserves basic human rights no matter what. they deserve healthcare, housing, food and water, bodily autonomy, etc. because in a society where your rights can be taken away because you did something Bad, the people in charge will find a way to make the people they dont like into Bad People, so that they can get away with taking their rights away. see: homosexuals are paedophiles, trans women are predators, Muslims are terrorists, etc. etc. etc.

the only way to ensure your rights never be taken away is to make sure No Ones Rights Can Be Taken Away Ever, yes even Those people. yes, them too. when i say no one, i mean no one.

keeping an open mind and listening to other peoples experiences is also highly important. if something makes you uncomfortable, sit with that. think about Why it makes you uncomfortable, and whether that is a rational thing to feel about it or if it is a knee jerk reaction that was taught to you by your family or the society you grew up in.

you will have to accept that you Are going to be wrong about some things. you are not always the good guy in every story. you will say bigoted things or be ignorant about something or offend someone, even if you never intended to. and your response to that should not be "omg i didnt mean it im not a bigot i would never do anything bigoted my mums brothers dogs cousin is [insert minority group]!!", it should be "ok, i messed up here. i clearly have much more to learn on this subject. im so sorry for [thing you did/said] and for any harm it caused, i will educate myself so that this doesnt happen again."

and its important to remember that having some internalised bigoted beliefs doesnt make you an Evil Person, you were just raised in a bigoted society. of course you're going to pick these things up thats what humans do! we learn from and copy the behaviours of those we grow up with as children. but you do have to do the work to challenge those beliefs and educate yourself. i believe that people should always be given the opportunity to grow and change, and that often times bigoted behaviour comes from a place of ignorance and fear. these people will never change their beliefs if we treat them like irredeemable monsters, it will just push them further away.

anyway thats my take on it i suppose. other people will have different opinions. i hope this helped you in some way :)

#inbox #ask #inbox open #advice #ethereal space dad