#ith cast

[maxphilippa]

i think that the major misinterpretation that people have with taco is that she didn't get attached to mic because of her sad face in the end wanted to show regret because "she hurted her friend". like. no, she wasn't sad because she regretted what she did. she was sad because she's alone again, but she knows very well at the end that she had it coming. the reason as to why taco was so desperate of wanting mic to tell her that she did gain something is because. she SAW pickle in mic, but of course their situation is very different. "Oh but Taco couldn't have done what she did to Mic to Pickle, Mic was fully aware" but she did do that. Mic herself says it. That is pretty much what II is telling you. Taco isn't a good friend, and is not exactly a good person either. Mic was aware that Taco was/is a bad person, but Mic's nature makes her believe in whoever acknowledges her. Taco made Mic feel like she needed her, just the way she made Pickle feel back in s1.

she didn't really change thanks to mic. her faces of "regret" aren't her actually lamenting all of the stuff she did to microphone, but rather just her realizing that she proved what everyone said about her as a result. i will give it to that she might've tried to change, but not because of mic. she wanted to win the prize so she could prove others wrong on her being a loser and a coward, by being a loser and a coward. if anything, mic made her realize that she hasn't changed. she pretty much just ruined everything for everyone who saw her as a friend, and for herself.

taco's whole arc is constantly just downgraded to questionable takes and listen. i do agree that she is heavily flawed as a character. she is morally gray, but ii doesn't portray her as a good person with good intentions, nor she should be really be treated as if she was. neither she had those good intentions with mic at all, i mean, their "friendship" pretty much started because of taco wanting the prize money, taking a part of microphone's prize if she made mic won, you know, an offer. she would get the prize and mic would get recognition. but everyone seems to forget that probably, the main reason as to why she's doing all of this, is because she does regret how she acted on s1. she doesn't exactly regret doing all of that to microphone, and even if she does, it's for the wrong reasons. (that's because she did the exact same thing to you know, pickle, her once best friend, the only person she truly ever cared about)

people do tend to forget that taco keeps sending letters to pickle, and that's often just used for pickle angst and making it his only character trait, but. it's not that. it's the fact that taco keeps on writing those letters, despite fully knowing that she did hurt pickle because of her actions. taco's biggest flaw is that she can't accept that she has ruined everything and wants so desperately to be back on pickle's life because she ended up caring about him deeply as a person. as a friend. but she was never there at all, either.

taco can't seem to understand that she has hurted people badly. sure, she seemed like a "friend" to microphone, and you can argue whatever you want but a fact is that taco IS smart, and she knew that the only way to possibly keep mic by her side is pretending to want to be better, you know, the same way she pretended to be just a odd fella so pickle and her could remain together and have an advance at the game. she played with both of them. because both pickle and mic believed in her but were just used by her for the game.

however, taco does seem to regret the way everything went during-post s1. you can see how she yearns for another chance and is saddened about not getting it, but that's not only for comedic purposes, but that's because the writing is telling you that she won't get a second chance. at least not here.

what i want people to understand is that, yes, taco is a complex character, however trying to sugarcoat what she did is pretty much missing the point of her writing as a whole. she isn't a good person neither was she a good friend. she hasn't grown because she was never able to let go of something that she thinks that she can fix with some words and a prize. she thinks that she can still fix her friendship with pickle, she thinks that she can clear her name (even if she was the one who tainted it), but she only ended up proving knife right. she proved everyone right. she hasn't changed. a morally gray character is that. they're not exactly fully bad or fully good, but it's taco's actions that speak a lot. words are cheap, and taco's title is "The Liar", and that says a lot, because she kept on lying to microphone and to pickle on both of their games. she won't heal unless she lets go.

and i want to be clear here: i do think that taco can go through redemption. i do think that taco can become a better person, but not in the way people portray her to do so. because it just pretty much goes against what her arc has settled in for us, and the other arcs that were involved in hers as well.

taco's arc is meant to be somewhat a parallel with nickel's in a way. hell, even with knife's arc if anything. she treats knife as a simple bully, but when she saw that he became smarter and way more emotionally aware than what she had expected, she felt attacked by that, because he was stable. he became a better person and he was rubbing that on her, and it made her feelings of anger way worse regarding him, but it is true. knife is pretty much everything that taco wants to be, but here's the thing that made them so different:

knife stayed. taco didn't stay.

knife is accepted by everyone in the hotel because meanwhile he hasn't explicitly said that he had a change of heart, he has shown it through actions and a big difference too is that he was there for pickle, even if they weren't close in s1, and taco is on the woods because deep down she is aware that she can't go back. not if she doesn't have something to offer as an direct apology, but here's the problem. whether or not she got the prize, she still wouldn't get forgiven by anyone due to what she said that day.

again. her problem is not being able to let go and to accept when she has messed up badly. she has been lying to everyone but she has also been lying to herself as a whole. she can't keep on doing this because it's just hurting everyone and herself. keeping grudges and holding onto past friendships that were doomed to fall is just hurting her. she is not on the state to keep on trying, she wasn't at all ever.

taco's arc most likely will have closure on a way that fits her character, and i feel like that would be with her letting go of inanimate insanity as a whole and of what she can't fix anymore. her trying to find herself after years of lying to everyone and to herself. she's not a good person. but she can become one. only if she knows what she did was wrong and that her second chance isn't there, and never will be, and if she recognizes that meanwhile she did that damage, she can still become a better person. just not there.

pickle and mic don't owe her anything, especially pickle. taco does owe them an apology, but they won't accept that. the least she could do is to accept their wishes, understand that she needs to leave them and grow to be a better person. maybe, if she does that, she would actually heal.

she doesn't need anyone to fix her. she needs to fix herself.

#inanimate insanity #ii #inanimate insanity invitational #ii 2 #ii 3 #inanimate insanity taco #inanimate insanity microphone #inanimate insanity knife #inanimate insanity pickle #and no. this isn't to bring ship discourse or anything. get that away from my character analysis. #i feel like taco is a really interesting character. it is pretty sad that even if she's popular people don't get her #“she's a complex fem character” yes she is. however you are pretty much missing the point. a character regardless of the gender can do bad- #-things and have a good intention/or a way to try to make up for that in their actions. however she is a case where she can't get closure w #-ith anyone because of the way she is written/the way she was given that complexity. she won't get closure with anyone in the cast at all #because they won't really forgive her since she kept on lying and using them as puppets. she had a change of heart. sure #but that doesn't erase all the pain she has caused #i genuinely do hope she gets her eventual closure by letting go. she does deserve to be okay but not with the cast. #i feel like the best way to put is. she had a good wish (wanting to become friends with pickle and showing that she changed) #with bad intentions and bad actions (using mic to get the prize + lying to her + other bad stuff she has done to the contestants such as h #-arming them without a motive/just because.) #max does analysis

[that-gt-and-vore-stuffs]

Putting myself on blast here-

There’s almost nothing that’ll fluster me more than that blank stare from a Pred. Hypno, possession, pure hunger- any of them work. Just that stare. The one that you can’t exactly decipher what’s going on behind until it’s too late. The one that’s occasionally paired with a little unconscious drooling. The one that makes for such good fearplay it’s crazy. THAT. That’s the shit I like

#soft vore #safe vore #HHHHHH #ITS. ITS BEEN ON THE BRAIN OKAY #ESPECIALLY AFTER BL/ITHE #LIKE CMON #I GOT HYPNOTIZED ON STAGE AND HAD TO STARE OFF LIKE THAT FOR A WHOLE ASS SCENE #DO YOU KNOW HOW FLUSTERING THAT WAS???? #AND THE VORE THOUGHTS DIDNT STOP #not with the cast ofc- no it was the characters- but STILL #HHHHHHHHHHHHH HELPPPPPPPLL

[stars-inthe-sky]

What cheesy song do you have memorized?

I'm not sure what qualifies as cheesy, given the number of showtunes across several eras that live rent-free in my head at all times (including of course the entirety of RENT).

But I'm going to go with Lin-Manuel Miranda's parody of High School Musical 2, "Bet On It," which I just re-listened to and, yeah, I still have it memorized (and it's been in my iTunes library for a long, long time) and it's still pretty delightful.

#i try not to be a hipster about it but i DID see in the heights with its original broadway cast and therefore DID know about lmm #well before hamilton! #like i remember watching the white house video at work when it came out and periodically wondering over the years what had happened #with that funky little project #anyway there is also a rihanna parody called 'run this tour' from when the first ITH national tour launched #it's not as earwormy but karen olivo does a great hook #bet on it #lin manuel miranda #give my regards to broadway #musical theatre is my happy place

[mlmxreader]

At The Top of The Mountain | Simon Ghost Riley x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ "You hit him and I will knock your head from your shoulders'' w Ith ghost please ❞

: ̗̀➛ War is not merciful, it is not kind. Even one justifiable death is not enough to warrant it.

: ̗̀➛ blood, knife violence, gun violence, bombing, swearing, smoking, physical fighting, graphic depictions of dead bodies, graphic depictions of war

↳ PROSHIP/PROFIC/ETC DO NOT INTERACT

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

The dead were piling high at the bottom of the mountain, soldiers crying as they were crushed by armoured vehicles and tanks alike; swallowed by the seemingly endless pits created by the heavy shells and grenades and mortars. A symphony of the worst kind of destruction.

Soldiers cried out for their mothers, but they would never come to collect their babies; not as the rats feasted on the fresh corpses and the wounded without discrimination. The enemy might have bled heavily, but it was not going to end there.

Stormclouds formed above, a heavy rain of pelting bombs that smashed into the already scarred lands and threw up great scabs to make the wounds larger and deeper.

A thin mist of greenish yellow was cast upon the fields, and the soldiers cried even more as they fell to their knees and coughed up foam and blood; their lungs on fire and their eyes melting slowly.

Even water was dangerous. In desperation, soldiers tried to hide and seek shelter, but where the bombs and bullets could not reach, the gas sought them out with ease. Making them spit venom that burned their insides and expelled them through chapped and blistered lips.

What mercy could ever be given?

A bullet in the skull was better than the gas, but it was somehow worse to survive. To see men turn to piles of ashes.

To see their torsos scattered up in branches whilst their limbs littered the dead trunks. Their legs and arms torn to shreds, exposing bone and frayed and torn uniform pieces; soldiers scrambled and fought over dead men's boots, tugging and pushing one another like starved wolves over a sheep carcass.

It was never going to be a place of mercy, a place of kindness; war was never going to give anyone the chance to die with dignity. It was either die for propaganda, or allow yourself to live with the guilt of knowing that you could not take anyone away from its powerful and all-consuming jaws.

Its gnashing teeth that shook chunks away from men's bodies and left them tossed carelessly across the land. At the bottom of the mountain, the bodies continued to pile up.

At the top of the mountain, however, it was far worse.

The rocks were slick and shaky, it was easy to slip and fall over the edge; you had seen it happen already. The rain was heavy, pulling your weight down as your uniforms grew heavier and heavier with every passing second; you were struggling to even pick up your rifle, hands slick and slippery from the rain and the mud coating your skin.

When you looked over to Ghost, though, your heart sank.

He was pinned down by a towering, hulking beast of a man screaming in Austrian German; he held a knife above his head, and you couldn't help it.

Dropping your rifle and launching yourself at him. He landed on his back, and you quickly sunk your knife into his shoulder.

"Scheisse!"

You pulled the knife out, not caring that the blood dripped thin and orange as the blade grew wet. "Shut the fuck up! You hit him and I will knock your head from your shoulders!"

"I will kill you!" He howled in a thick Tyrol accent.

You sunk the knife into his chest, then pulled it out. You didn't even blink as you did it; your stare growing distant and hazy the more that you plunged it into his body. Blood spattering across your face and running down your cheeks in a thick orange haze.

You couldn't stop, not until Ghost grabbed you by the back of your shirt collar and violently pulled you away. You stumbled back, falling onto your backside as you held the knife tightly in your hands. He knelt between your knees, shaking his head.

"Flanders?"

Your voice was broken and raw as you quietly responded, "Albert."

Ghost shook his head, unconvinced as he swallowed thickly. "You're not alright... wipe the blood off your face."

You didn't move as he got up, walking over the body you had left behind; he crouched down, finding a wallet and scoffing as he shook his head.

"König?" He grumbled. "Bit of an ego on this cunt... oi! C'mere!"

Steadily, you stood up, and walked over to him in a daze; you were shaking, and your gaze was still unfocused and hazy.

"Look at it," Ghost scoffed with disgust. "Piece of filth."

You didn't look down. "Uh-huh."

Slowly, he stood, and swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry I brought you here, y'know. This ain't... except for that cunt, this ain't war - just senseless fucking death."

"He attacked you..."

Ghost glared at you for a moment. "Yeah, and you risked everything to save me."

"He attacked you..." you repeated.

"You did good, soldier," he sighed. "I'd kiss you, but not until you've got that blood off your face."

He knew that he never should have allowed it; he knew that when you signed up to the mission with him, he never should have let Price agree to it.

Ghost never wanted you, his significant other, to be as scarred by war as he was.

But you were still a soldier, and he knew that. He knew that soldiers could never escape it no matter how hard they tried to.

All that needless and senseless death. All that pain and misery.

Was it really worth it?

Was there really any glory?

Was there any point?

"C'mon," Ghost said quietly, putting your arm around his shoulders. "I'm taking you back to the trenches. We'll get you cleaned up, yeah?"

You still didn't answer.

"Tell you what," he mused. "How's a packet of crisps and a sarnie sound? Price got some jam stored away, and I know he's got some cheese, too... make your favourite - cheese and jam, yeah?"

No answer.

Ghost didn't know what else to sigh as he sighed heavily, all but tugging you along with him.

War was never going to be kind.

#mlem writes #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley fic #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley imagine #simon riley fanfic #simon riley fic #simon riley #ghost riley x reader #ghost riley x you #ghost riley imagine #ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #ghost imagine #ghost fanfic #ghost fanfiction #ghost fic #ghost #cod x reader

[blissfulip]

—Legion

On AO3

Priest!Viktor x F!demon!reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Priest Kink, Blasphemy, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Flagellation, Demon Sex, Demon Summoning, Demon/Human Relationships, demon reader, AU - Canon Divergence, Post medieval era, Dubious Science, Church Sex, Roman Catholicism, Catholic Guilt, Improper Use of Catholic Rituals, Shameless Smut, Masturbation, No use of Y/N, third person.

Cw: Handjob

Words: 2k

[A/N: Happy Easter Sunday lmao, also whoever picks up all of the 'easter eggs' (get it wink wink) gets a kith and hug from me (let me know if you want to be tagged or removed in future fic updates!)]

Tags: @ihopeinevergetsoberr @chemical-killjoy @jinxed-jk @bobobomao @queen-of-elves @thedustybunny @syren201 @thayfass @thehistoriangirl @hypocritic-trash-baby @zaunitearchives

Previous

III. 

Viktor stood frozen, the voice that whispered those words echoing against the walls of his head as he gazed upon the creature before him, a figure blindingly bright yet of simultaneously all-consuming darkness. The sight obscured his thoughts and left him adrift in a sea of terror. How could he have been so blind as to believe that he could command such power without consequence? Or rather, was it the naivete of believing nothing would come of it that turned against him? 

The very essence of his faith fractured—that earth-shattering feeling that had become all too common for him that day—threatened by this insidious presence. What had he unleashed upon the world? What horrors awaited him in the wake of his hubris? Viktor trembled, and his soul lay bare before the abyss, but something sinister took him out of this blossoming meltdown; she, the creature, looked familiar.

And achingly so, yet her form eluded him like a half-remembered dream. Faces swirled in the depths of his memory, merging and shifting like shadows cast by a flickering flame, but he was unable to put a finger on them.

"Do you not recognize me, Viktor?" Her voice cut through the air, eerily sweet.

Viktor recoiled in horror at the sound of his own name coming out of her mouth, the weight of her words crashing down upon him. 

“I manifest to you as a reflection of your own desires, an amalgamation of every soul you have ever yearned for, sweet human.” She hissed as she offered Viktor a hand to help him stand, her touch oddly warm as they both sat on the bed. “Do you not see it? That young woman from the bakery, or the one you always look at for a tad too long while you buy turnips? You don’t even like turnips,” she smiled slightly. “What about that woman who comes to confess every week? The one with the slightly hoarse voice that you love, even that tan young man with the green eyes,. Yes, yes, I know about him too; I am him too.”

“Who…what are you?” He asked amidst a short-lived surge of bravery.

“My name is Legion,” she said with an off-putting tone of irony, “for we are many... or however that verse goes. Mawkishly sentimental if you ask me.” She chuckled and seemed to deflate in disappointment at her attempt at humor not being acknowledged. She sighed in oddly human-like resignation, “I don’t have a name, Viktor, but I know yours , and you know what I am.”

"I seek nothing from the likes of you, Demon, you don’t know me." he declared, though doubt gnawed at him.

"You do, and it is the truth that I know you; your biggest fear is to remain ignorant and blind to the truths that lie beyond the veil of your mortal existence; I can feel it. " She whispered against his ear. 

"You are but a trick of the darkness; I will not succumb to your temptations."

"Oh, but Viktor, you already have ," she purred. "You summoned me here, drawn by your own curiosity. Your anger simmers beneath that stoic surface, against the silence of the heavens and the absence of answers to your prayers. But I answered, so why direct your anger at me ?"

“I have faith in Him; God will intercede in my favor.” He said, covering his face ith both hands, afraid his expression would betray something that confirmed her accusations.

“Yet you question his wisdom and his justice. You resent his silence, you doubt .”

“I love Him, and I will repent; I will.”

“Why? Faith without cynicism is a hollow shell. Will you let yourself be domesticated like a beast? A man of science like yourself?”

The spark of courage grew into embers inside Viktor’s chest at the mention of his work. Although he remained silent, not wanting to concede, she saw it in him, just like she experienced every emotion that grew within the transparent exterior that contained his soul.

“Embrace this fire, and you will obtain what you seek.” She said, gently laying a hand over Viktor’s. 

His shoulders slumped in resignation, but even as he acquiesced to her demands, a seed of guilt still remained. What would God think of him now for consorting with a creature of darkness? Would he be cast aside and condemned for eternity for his folly?

"What do you fear, judgement?” Viktor nodded.

“Your god is nothing but an egregore," she declared, her voice a whisper. "A figment of mortal imagination, born from the collective beliefs of humanity, he only has power over you if you allow it."

“God is my shepherd, He…” He started to recite, but his voice betrayed him.

“Yahweh, Tetragrammaton, Adonai, El, Elohim, Shaddai, Tzevaot… it does not matter who you so fervently pray to! Ancient egregores hold no power over the ancient gods.” She started saying in a firm tone, her volume high in affront. “And you, my sweet, are so unfortunately Christ hunted…a lot of work to be done.” She continued, her voice tuning back down to her previously silky tone.

Viktor's breath caught in his throat, but simultaneously, the weight of her words lifted a heavy chain that had previously hung around his neck. Although this—his God’s identity and how much power He held—seemed to be a point of contention between him and his conscience, every word she uttered seemed to confirm things he had been long thinking about. But the smell of culpability Viktor emanated was pungent, and what she saw in his heart was a whirlwind.

She was proud that he had let himself be guided by his urges, that he had, even if only for a small moment, felt true freedom in pleasure. She felt his fear when he remembered he would need to face father Isidore and then she felt his rage. He felt so strongly against him that for a second she imagined he would be nothing short of a monster, his robust yet sweet face was an interesting sight to find framed in Viktor’s memory. 

She felt sympathy and sadness and confusion, she felt worried for the young girl with the twin braids just like Viktor had, and felt intrigued as to how she had come in possession of her coin, but what mattered most to her in that moment was one problematic sensation; despondency. Viktor was close to giving up, he had nearly decided rage was useless and so was science.

“Let’s begin by working on the heavy guilt you carry.” She said, after a long silence. Viktor noticed an unsettling tenderness in her eyes when he, for the first time, looked directly into them. 

“I made a vow.” He answered, his voice breaking as it turned into a whisper.

"Do not let the chains of guilt bind you, Viktor," she murmured. "The church may preach of purity and righteousness, but it is built upon a foundation of hypocrisy, and you don’t need me to tell you as much.”

“I know of the behavior of some members of the clergy, but why should...”

“I don’t speak of individual transgressions; the church as an institution seeks to negate eroticism and sexuality, yet it embraces them in its most sacred rites.”

The deeply puzzled expression in Viktor’s face prompted her to elaborate.

“Think about the things you do during sacrament; think of the smell of incense, the touching of beads, the kissing of sacred objects, the rubbing of oils... Think about consuming the physical body of the idol you adore, and think about what it makes you feel—enlightenment, apotheosis. Remember the deep pleasure you extracted from the pain of self-penitence? It’s nearly devine, is it not? That necessity to envelop all senses?” 

Viktor nodded.

“And that feeling you get of being close to god in a way that nothing else will get you to—that sensation of being outside the perception of time and space—have you experienced it?”

“I have, in prayer.”

“Can I show you what true ecstasy feels like? One that starts and culminates in yourself without any divine intervention? 

And once again, Viktor simply nodded. The air crackled with a tension thick enough to suffocate him, his breath shallow and rapid. A rush of anticipation surged through him, mingling with a primal curiosity that threatened to consume him whole as she slithered behind him. The shift of weight on the mattress gave him a strange awareness of the materiality of what was taking place, and the hot breath on the left side of his neck caused the last string of sanity holding him together to loosen. 

For a second, he wondered if she was nothing but a very sly yet human woman that had somehow found a way into his room, but that idea was quickly quenched as both of her hands slowly glided along the sides of his still-clothed thighs, emanating that unnatural white glow that was clearly not of mortal nature. 

Her touch was delicate and warm, her nails slowly creeping up to the hem of his cassock as she pulled it up to reveal the trousers underneath. If Viktor had any idea of what she planned on doing, he would have been of more help, adjusting to make his clothing easier to remove, but unaware of what awaited him, he sat there immobile. 

After some mild struggle, she managed to get to the stubborn clasp, and the slight accidental touches ignited a fire within Viktor's veins, sending tendrils of heat coursing through his body. Soon enough, there was nothing in between them, and the cold air that came into contact with the streak of viscosity that had dampened his underpants sent goosebumps across his arms. 

She hadn’t even made her way to his cock yet, but with each gentle caress around his stomach and thighs, Viktor's senses were heightened to a fever pitch, his body aflame with a hunger that burned brighter than any candle. With the first feather touch along his shaft, he felt as if he were teetering on the edge of a precipice, poised on the brink of a pleasure so exquisite it bordered on agony. 

And then, with a slow and deliberate motion, her hand closed around him, sending shockwaves of ecstasy racing through every fiber of his being. A guttural moan escaped his lips as she began to move, her rhythm mechanic and intoxicating. With every teasing stroke, Viktor's breath hitched, his body responding eagerly to her touch. 

"Ah…God!" he gasped, his voice a hoarse whisper of longing. 

She froze on her tracks, drawing out a protesting whine from Viktor. “Do not call upon his name now; at this moment, you belong to me .” She spoke, her voice still sweet but laced with a tinge of resentment.

Viktor's mind swam in a haze, his thoughts fragmented and disjointed as he desperately nodded in agreement, before she resumed the pace of her moment. And then Viktor felt himself hurtling his head back onto her shoulder, his world reduced to nothing. She gently removed the sweat-drenched pieces of hair from his forehead and whispered words in a language he could not understand while her hand continued its path down to his neck and back. 

 For a second, he felt a reminder of the stinging pain on his shoulder blades, and then it faded. As he reached the climax of his arousal, he cried out desperate pleas, only this time to her and himself, finally surrendering to this intoxicating embrace. After letting him breathe for a while, she took one of his hands in hers and placed the copper coin on it. Viktor knew he was bound to her now.

And in that moment, there was no room for guilt or shame, only the unquenchable thirst for more.

#viktor #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #arcane #arcane au #arcane viktor #legion

[spacebarbarianweird]

Omg hi!!! Love your Writting, could you make an Astarion x Eladrin! Reader please? It can be and fey eladrin or a celestial eladrin (tough i prefer the celestial ones). I'm surprised no one asked for an eladrin hc already, they're such dolls)

Hi! Eladrins are truly interesting. The difference between two types depends on what edition you play - before the 4th edition Eladrins were native to Arvandor, distant cousins to elves. Beginning with the 4th Edition, they're fey creatures from the Feywild.

As there is more relevant info about Fey Eladrin, I will write this HCs based on them but the difference between different types of Eladrin isn't really big.

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion x Eladrin!Tav

Your ancestors were casted away from Arvandor along with other elves but instead of going to Material Planes they chose Feywild as their home.

Many of your kind have slowly lost their humanoid form and allowing the wild magic of the Faierie to change them.

The seasons for you aren't times of the year, they are places you can visit and the form you can take.

When you are a Spring Eladrin, you sing and dance but so easily fall in love that you lose yourself.

When you are Summer, you are a stubborn fighter.

As Autumn you are kind and generous but to trustful.

But as Winter you are depressed and melancholic.

In trance you change your season like a dress and your change appearance as well.

It drives Astarion insane because you have four different personalities and four different skins.

Fey Eladrins and stability are complete opposites.

But at the same he is attracted to your wild magic, so alive and bustling, nothing like what his undead existence is.

You are also a gender fluid since sex and gender are too limitimg when defined.

Sometimes you feel like a man, sometimes like a woman, sometimes you are both, sometimes you are none.

The adventures on the Material Planes is just another fun experience for you since you are not intedning to stay there.

As for Astarion he doesn't truly knows what to do.

The Undead don't belong to Feywild, he can't go there with you and he isn't sure he wants all this fey madness.

Meanwhile the Material Plane is too exhausting, too stable, too bleak for you.

But you decide to stay.

To stay to get him the cure.

Astarion doesn't remember being alive, but you know how miserable he truly is.

Hunger. Cold. Pain.

There must be the way.

Astarion gets used to your changing nature. You just become a very complex person to him but luckily your pysical appearance betrays your mood change as well and he always knows which "you" he is going to deal with today.

You spend a century looking for ithe cure but nothing helps. It's just a ghost you keep searching for.

And the Material Plane is draining you, sometimes you are so week,you can't move for months, lying motionless in your trance and remembering the Feywild.

Astarion begs you to go.

He will be fine. This century was the the best time he ever hoped to have. He will remember you. He will cherish the memories of you.

But you have to part ways. He is an undead, he belongs to the Shadowplace and all what is dread. He will wander the roads for eternity as the creature of the dark. And you will live your long life in the magical place of fey wonders.

He will never forget you.

Beaides there isn't anyone like you, his tiny wild love.

You dissappear like a mist in the morning and he hopes you are happy in the magical feywild.

He keeps living

Hunting monsters .

Adebturing here and there.

Sometimes he makes griends, sometimes he takes lovers

But in his reverie he remembers only his eladrin of tje feywild the magical creature who gave him hope.

A century passes.

Lonely ten decades.

Astarion meditates and his meditation is so deep it is more like a real sleep.

He feels that something is beside him someone warm, someone familiar.

He wakes up and sees you.

You lie beside him in your atumn form warm like a lantern.

You break the silence and brush his cheek, making him sniff.

"I know how to cure you."

You spare Astarion of details, he doesn't need to know what price you paid.

A century of slavery. Of servitude. Of humilation.

A fey, powerful and cruel, shoved the cure up to your nose, bragging they have it and you don't.

A century. A terrible, difficult century with every day worse than another.

Losing your humanoid form. Being an ugly beast for a decade. Losing yoir mind and doing the most disgusting things for your master.

The feys are cruel when they know you need them.

The transformation is painful and long and you are afraid the fey bitch lied to you.

They didn't.

Astarion opens his eyes and they are emerald greem like Feywild woods.

It takes him time to adapt to his mortal body but it's much easier in Feywild than it would be in the Material Plane.

You don't know what the future holds for you two.

The elven nature is fluid and unpredictable.

But deep inside you know you have always meant to be together, you are thiramins, elven soulmates. Maybe, you knew each other in your past lives. Maybe you are both something new.

And you have centuries ahead to figure this out.

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce @coffeeanddonutscafe @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen

#spacebarbarian headcanon #dnd elves #high elves #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 #astarion romance #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion headcanon #astarion headcanons #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x reader #tav x astarion #astarion x f!tav #eladrin #tav eladrin #baldurs gate 3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion baldurs gate #astarion fanfic #astarion brainrot #astarion baldurs gate 3 #astarion fanfiction #astarion fic #astarion imagine #astarion my beloved #astarion fics

[fatehbaz]

This was a world [...] of breathtaking extremes: on one end were early modern European aristocrats who decorated their salons with sugar sculptures; on the other were millions of enslaved men and women, overwhelmingly of African origin, who were overworked so mercilessly on Caribbean plantations [...].

In the late 1600s, sugar confectioneries were introduced into Siam by a [...] woman of Japanese and Portuguese descent, Marie Guyemar de Pinha [...], who married the king’s Greek prime minister. Two centuries later, a sugar planter like Leonard Wray could effortlessly move between the Malay Peninsula, Natal (in today’s South Africa), and the American South, receiving land in Algeria from Napoleon III and conducting sugar experiments under the auspices of the former governor of South Carolina. Bosma traces the rise of a sugar bourgeoisie in places like Java, the Caribbean, Louisiana, and Brazil that was, by its very definition, transnational. Sugar, after all, constantly required new commodity frontiers as cane monoculture ravaged the soil and turned lush tropical forests into wastelands. Politics and war accelerated this scramble for new frontiers. [After the formal legal abolition of chattel slavery in British territories] [a] man like John Gladstone -- father of British prime minister William -- had to quickly pull up stakes in Demerara (in today’s Guyana) and Jamaica in 1840 and try his luck in deltaic Bengal instead. [...]

Of course, many of those transnational connections were sealed through acts of unspeakable brutality. [...] The workings of the slave-sugar economy [...] guaranteed that the enslaved were reduced to the absolute wretched of the earth [...]. Slaves were shuttled across the Atlantic’s western littoral as new sugar frontiers developed and as European colonies were gained [...]. Saint-Domingue sugar workers might have cast away their chains during the Haitian Revolution, but French planters simply carried those chains across the Windward Passage to Cuba, where they got to work establishing a new, brutal sugar frontier powered by yet more slaves. Equally unsettling, [...] the abolition of slavery in the British Empire in 1834 was followed [...] by the resumption of British mass imports of slave-grown sugar from areas beyond London’s imperial control. Sugar from Brazil and Cuba was simply cheaper, and business and consumer interests trumped any questions of morality. [...] [W]ith massive refinery complexes lining the waterfronts of American and European cities, the commodity remained utterly reliant on slavery, coerced labor, and - in places like Java, where the Dutch designed a system of forced cultivation - suppressed land rights. [...] [G]rossly impoverished workers were cheaper and more easily dispensable. [...] Sugar was only profitable when churned out in mass quantities: consequently, sugar industrialists deliberately overproduced, which artificially drove down prices (and workers’ wages).

---

All text above by: Dinyar Patel. ‘Sugar, Slavery, and Capitalism: On Ulbe Bosma’s “The World of Sugar”’. Published online by LA Review of Books. 9 May 2023. [Some paragraph breaks and contractions added by me. Presented here for commentary, teaching, criticism purposes.]

#abolition #ecology #imperial #colonial

[whatwewrotepodcast]

WIP Introduction - The Second Coming

Okay! Probably about time to actually introduce some of our writing projects, right?

The Second Coming Trilogy (Revelation, Anarchy, and The Second Coming)

What?

The Second Coming Trilogy is a modern fantasy set in Brooklyn, New York. Loosely based on the poem of the same name by W.B Yeats, it tells the story of a human girl and her two Fallen Angel allies as they attempt to prevent the second coming - the rising of the son of the devil to take his place on earth. Originally this was a YA story, but subsequent re-writes have landed on a more adult tone. We've been working on this story for well over 10 years, with many iterations. Once it was one book! But it got way too long and had to be split into three. We're currently doing edits and re-writes on book 2, Anarchy, and are querying publishers with book 1, Revelation.

Who?

The Main Cast

Merry: Merry is a human girl who was born with the Sight. This ability allows her to see through glamours and lies, but also often gets her into trouble. She's spent most of her life trying to ignore it and the things she sees, but one night she sees something she shouldn't have, and becomes embroiled in the hidden world of angels and demons. Merry is caucasian, dark brown hair and dark eyes, and has a slight, athletic build (she was a gymnast in her younger years). She's head strong, stubborn, and doesn't take kindly to being told what to do.

Ith: Ithuriel is a recently fallen arc angel. Once the Angel of Truth, Ithuriel fell prey to the sin of wrath and was thrown down from Heaven, his wings torn from his back and his divinity stripped away. Having been on earth for a mere few months, Ithuriel is still filled with his righteous desire to root out and punish evil wherever he finds it. He has been hunting the faction of Demons that Merry falls afoul of, and takes her under his wing to protect her. Ithuriel is 6'3, with a broad, strong build. He has fair skin and wavy golden hair, his features sculpted and harsh, and he has bright golden eyes, though he routinely glamours himself to look more human and less otherworldly.

Belial: Belial is also a Fallen, but he fell during the first great battle between the followers of Lucifer and those who remained true to Heaven. As such, Belial is a Prince of Hell, though he long since abandoned the regions of Hell to live on earth, where he has been for thousands of years. Belial walks a careful line between self preservation and his fondness for humanity, but his outlook on the world is grim and pessimistic. He's got tanned skin covered in a thousand years of scars, with deep maroon hair and eyes, and sculpted features just like Ithuriel's, though he is a little broader and stronger. Belial's glamours are particularly strong and there are few on earth who knows what he really looks like.

The Antagonists

Moloch: Moloch is a Duke of Hell and a Demon. Long corrupted by the evil in his heart, his physical being has become corrupted in the same way. One of the first lieutenants of the coming apocalypse, Moloch also runs a series of clubs throughout Brooklyn that cater to hardcore human clubbers amongst the demons who patronise them. To humans, Moloch is a thin, slight, suave middle aged white man with slicked back black hair and a pinstriped suit. To those who can See, he appears as a rotting skeleton, scraps of putrid flesh clinging to pitted bones.

Astoreth: Princess of Hell, Keeper of the Gate. Astoreth is the daughter of Lucifer, a creature of pure evil. She is the Princess of Hell, come to earth to pave the way for her brother. Astoreth is petty, proud, vain and cruel. Half snake, half woman, with long dark hair and skin that has an iridescent sheen, Astoreth is hunting Merry with all of her considerable resources, aware she could be the key to her plans.

Mammon: Son of Lucifer. Spoilers ;)

#WIP intro #writeblr #writing #writers of tumblr #am writing #writer #write #writers #writing community #writeblr community #writeblr intro #writing on tumblr

[scotianostra]

Happy Birthday the Scottish actor, Alexander “Sandy” Morton born 24th March 1945 in Glasgow.

Morton became one of Scotland’s most popular arch-villains when he was cast as Andy Semple in the long running soap opera Take the High Road.

Career highlights include the title role in Raindog Theatre’s critically acclaimed Scots rendition of Shakespeare’s Macbeth, directed by Robert Carlyle; R.P. McMurphy in One flew Over the Cuckoo’s nest, also directed by Robert Carlyle. He has also appeared in three different series of Taggart as different characters and was ithe pnly character to appear in every single episode of Monarch of the Glen as the servant, Golly Mackenzie. In Nicholas Winding Refn’s Valhalla Rising, he featured as Barde, the chieftain and temporary owner of One Eye.

Has appeared with actor Clive Owen in TV series Second Sight 1 & 2, and Mike Hodges films I’ll Sleep when I’m dead, and Croupier.

Alexander recently played the Prince of Darkness in the Dracula-inspired Robert Forrest BBC radio play Voyage of the Demeter. For BBC Radio he had the title role in Jekyll and Hyde, playing both parts. Also on radio, he was the first actor to play Inspector Rebus in the first adaptation of Ian Rankin’s Rebus series of books.

And on the small screen Sandy has been in the excellent Luther with Idris Elba and Shetland, he was also cast as a rival to Lenny Murdoch in our Scottish soap River City, as Billy Kennedy.

#scotland #scottish #history #actor #Monarch of the Glen #Take the HighRoad

[viarayy01-blog]

you get less options this time sorry

#fnaf #poll #fnaf poll

[felizusnavidad]

(hi not the hamilton anon but saw the tags i'm taking ith)

fave lyrics from in the heights (the song) ?

bahahaha, thank you so much! i hope you know you're gonna have to come back every day now to ask me about all of the songs... we are going with obc version, because of course, & i'm gonna pick three as well (although this is such a long & fun song, i love it so much):

a lottery ticket, just a part of the routine, everybody's got a job, everybody's got a dream - something about this line always makes me want to scream & i can't even explain

yeah, i'm a streetlight, chokin' on the heat, the world spins around while i'm frozen to my seat - once again, AAAAAAAAAA

cause my parents came with nothing, they got a little more & sure we're poor, but yo, at least we got the store, & it's all about the legacy they left with me, it's destiny & one day i'll be on a beach with sonny writing checks to me - it's just... lin talking about the legacy is something that can be very personal, you know... LOVE IT, i always fucking scream those lines

bonus (you'll be getting a lot of those! cause fun!) - this performance from 2008 tony awards - in the heights/96,000 - & this is of course the original broadway cast (LIN-MAN & C-JACK LOOK AT THEM THEY WERE SO YOUNG & CHRIS EVEN HAD HAIR WHAAAAAAT)... funny thing is that it says HQ but it's probably the worst quality i've ever seen lol.

#also the original usnavi is the love of my life #look how he raps! #look how adorkable he is! #AAAAAAAAAA #in the heights #lin manuel miranda #i illuminate the stories of the people in the street*

[flxshy]

@lilitophidian

Everything was happening so fast around him. He had lost everything so fast, and yet in the moment that his brother’s blade was to come down and deliver the blow that would cast him from heaven it seemed so slow. His eyes went to his wife, the beautiful blonde seeming just as frightened as he was. He had to protect her. 

His hand reached out for his brother, pleading for him to save the two of them, to save them from the war that had broke out in the heavens. This was not what he had wanted. The plan was to make it into the council and present their plans. To fight VERBALLY for their plans. 

Not to have a blade through his chest.

Definitely not to have the second blade through his side, but at least it gave him a chance to grab Lilith and protect her from the holy fire that engulfed him as they fell. Somehow remaining silent as the blaze nipped his flesh leaving open wounds along his limbs. 

When they landed Lucifer didn’t get up, cloven hooves shifting against the earth that now formed the beginning of hell. He couldn’t even will his body to move, the flames finally dying down and igniting the pentagram design, burning it into hell. 

The world was changed all because of a betrayal. 

“Lil… ith”

He willed his hand to lift only to find that his body failed him, tears running down his cheeks as he lay there. Too wounded and bleeding out. Golden fluids seeping into the ground below.

#;; starter #;; replies #lilitophidian #;; muse : lucifer

[tinrange]

i really loved this episode for mew, not because he made toxic decisions but because it highlighted all the faults that make him interesting and juxtaposed his character arc clearly ith the rest of the cast.

mew has spent this entire show being the wronged and moral character.

since episode 1 hes made it his mission to criticize the life choices of his friends, he judges boston heavily under the guise of wanting him to find love and companionship. he throws rays addiction in his face but never makes an active effort to help. and hes rewarded for it.

ray worships the ground he walks on, cheum really only cares about him, and bostons so deeply insecure when it comes to their differences that he resorts to fucking mews boyfriend to regain his confidence.

now that both ray and boston have found the things that mew claimed he wanted for them, mews has found himself in a situation that wouldve been much more fitting for either of them at the beginning of the series than it wouldve been for him.

hes contemplating cheating to get back on a boy that hurt him, one that he claims he still loves. his feelings are complicated and messy, hes hurt and hes in the kind of situation he wouldve judged boston over.

there is one gigantic difference between boston and mew though, mews parents know him and they support him, and they dont force him to hide.

mew and boston are paralleled in every way and this episode has made me feel so excited for the next in the hopes that there might be a real exploration into what a good and functioning support system can do to help queer people through hurt and possible bad decisions.

in some ways mew is even more cunning than boston, but he could never be more desperate for escape than boston is and that character foil does so much for mews character this episode.

#only friends the series #mew #they turned me into a fan!!!

[nalyra-dreaming]

Hello there, Nalrya 😊 Don't get me wrong, I'm fucking happy we are finally getting some content but if I'm not wrong part of the strike is not having any kind of promotion, including on social media, so why the s2 teaser is going to be released? Maybe AMC members of the WGA/SAG-AFTRA did not allowed it on events like SDCC but gave it the green light for social media? 🤔 I'm not from the US so I don't know much about how the unions work there, I try to learn as much as I can about the strike by youtube videos, articles and posts here on tumblr 😅

Hey!

If I understand it correctly the ones affected by strike cannot promote the show in any kind of way, yes.

However, the DGA managed to ratify its new contract at the end of June, contrary to the SAG and WGA. Which is why it’s likely no coincidence that the teaser news comes from Levan ;))

The panel etc was canceled, and the filming stopped, because 6 main cast members are part of SAG…

But AMC likely had this teaser prepared for SDCC already anyways, this is an important event after all and with the Street of Immortality an integral part of their promotion.

So I personally wouldn’t worry too much about ithe teaser breaking anything… 💕

#anonymous #asks #ask nalyra #sag strike #amc #interview with the vampire #iwtv #levan akin #amc interview with the vampire #iwtv amc #amc iwtv

[upside-down-sock-drawer]

Dear All Shook Up,

It is 8:36, on Sunday, November 12th, 2023. I just got out of the shower after the closing night of our show.

When I walked into that building for auditions, I was terrified. I mean, would they even want me? Sure, I'd done a production with this director before, but it was just a silly highschool one. Why would they want me?

When I walked into that building for our first dance rehearsal, I was terrified. Dance isn't my strong suit. Sure I love it, but I'm just not that good.

When I walked into music rehearsal for the first time, I was terrified. I had two friends, neither of which I was terribly close to. I didn't know what to do.

That was 3 months ago. A lot happens in three months.

We weren't ready. We were running so short on time, the leads didn't know their lines, the chorus hardly knew our music. We were running out of time.

When I first stepped on that stage, with my hair done, in my pretty blue dress, I felt it.

The thing they don't tell you about theater, is that there's magic involved. From an outside standpoint, I sound crazy. But when you get everything together, with a cast who's been working their asses off for three months, something magical happens. Shows blend together, and they make sense.

All Shook Up, you have given me things I will never be able to replace. I've made friends that I'm going to have for life. I'm a part of something so much greater than myself. A family.

All Shook Up, you've given me people I will love for the rest of my life. You've given me best friends, a girlfriend, a mother, sisters, brothers. A family. You've given me my first theater dance break, my first lift, my first shot at real acting, and even my first kiss.

We laughed, we cried, we held hands, we held eachother. We put lipstick marks on a door, we snuck candy in between numbers, we screamed random lines before shows, we put glitter on our ears. We danced backstage, we serenaded eachother, we memorized lines that weren't even ours to memorize. We even put ridiculous amounts of hairspray in our hair to the point where I'm pretty sure some of it infected our brains. We made jokes that will never be understood by anyone but us.

There's magic in a theater. Especially an old one, that's been used by hundreds of great people before us. Everyone leaves a little bit of themselves behind in that theater, and they create a magic that makes shows the amazing things that they are.

I am so incredibly grateful to have been able to perform this amazing show ith amazing people in an amazing historic theater. It's changed me. I'm different now, than I was before this.

All Shook Up, you have taken 3 months of my life, my devotion, my focus, my passion, and most importantly my free time. And I don't regret a single moment of it.

All Shook Up, you have changed my life for the better. You have made me a different person.

Now, you're over. The curtain fell on us one last time. Our props and costumes have all been moved out. We will never again perform that same show with those same people. It's sad.

But as I watched the water swirl down the drain, carrying away the last of the show from my body, I didn't cry. I smiled.

This is one more step on my theater journey that I will love and treasure forever. I have so many new adventures waiting for me right around the corner. I'm not crying tears of sadness anymore, they're tears of joy.

This show is all about love. Everyone is all falling in love in ways they never knew they could. And I did too. With the theater, with a girl, with this family.

I love you, All Shook Up

Sincerely, your devoted chorus member, Florence.

#letter to my show #i can hardly believe it's over #i've been crying all day #i love this show #thanks to everyone who has been so supportive of me throughout this #it's been such an adventure #i love everyone and everything #theater is amazing #theater kid #musical theater #end of a show #end of an era

[tropicalscream]

i wish i had cookies and milk I want cookies to.munch on but tis i be ith a poor pup cast out to the wilds of finance due to the spitful gaze of that loathsome dung of a despot: Capitalism

truly i am a hound broke in more ways then one

૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა