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spookyjuicefiction · 6 months

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Violets & Plums: Astarion/Tav, Part 1

Got an idea for an Astarion fic that I just need to start working through and here is as good a place as any. Part 1 of ?

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He had been wrong about her. And he hated being wrong.

He had seen her on the nautiloid, stuffed into a pod and infected with a tadpole just as he had been. He recognized her when he spotted her trudging up the path toward him away from the crash site. He himself had just clawed his way out of the wreckage and was getting his bearings when she and the she-elf emerged from the smoke. An easy target, he thought, quickly preparing a ruse to trap her. She fell right into it, and he was ready to kill her - that is, until their parasites connected.

When he agreed to team up with her and Shadowheart, it was because he planned to use them as human shields should he meet any attackers. Sure, they had the common goal of finding a healer to remove the parasite, but they certainly had no value as serious allies as far as he could tell. Even only being a vampire spawn, they were slow and weak compared to him. Not to mention stupid. He was the obvious choice to lead the pack.

Then why was it that he was standing at the edge of the campsite alone, scowling to himself as the rest of his merry band of companions passed around a bottle of wine and enjoyed each others' company? And why was she the one in the middle, with every adoring eye on her?

Yes, he had certainly underestimated her. Within hours she had every one of them wrapped around her magical fingers, and within a few days they had all deferred to her as their de-facto leader when decisions needed to be made. She seemed to have a gift for reading people, knowing exactly how to charm and persuade them. Her skills of deception even rivaled his own, though he was loathe to admit to his admiration of them.

His pointed ear pricked toward the campfire as new sounds arose; she - Tav - had started plucking a tune on her lute and leading the group in song. He rolled his eyes. Of course she sings, too. How irritating.

It was truly annoying how easily she gained the others' favors. Wasn't he supposed to be the one so well-versed in flattery and charisma? Yet she deigned to engage with them in ways that made his skin crawl, like listening to Wyll's obviously dramatized renditions of his escapades as The Blade of Frontiers. Or allowing Gale to ramble on about his cat - his tressym, as the obnoxious wizard was so fond of correcting them. Shadowheart seemed to like her just because Tav left her alone and didn't ask her too many questions, but chuckled along at all of her jokes at the others' expense. She had even gained Lae'zel's trust after asking her for fighting tips and electing her as the group battlemaster in case of combat. And Karlach took nothing at all - the two have been practically joined at the hip (from a fire-safe distance, of course) since the tiefling joined their camp. She must be hiding something, he thought. No one can be that good at gaining peoples' trust without good reason. He would know.

She tried to read him, too. She made little jokes and comments under her breath only for him to hear, trying to be conspiratorial. She complemented him often, trying to appeal to his vanity. But most obnoxiously, she went toe to toe with him in battles of wit. Any time he threw loaded grenade of snark and vitriol at one of their companions to entertain himself, she threw it right back. It was infuriating, being undermined and bested at his favorite game. That was probably why the others' liked her so much, because she was fond of shutting him up and making him seethe quietly in the back of the line. Nobody else liked him.

Good, he thought. Best to go it alone anyway. Never needed a friend before, don't need one now. As soon as I get this bastard out of my eye, I'll be gone faster than a rat in Cazador's dungeon.

The thought of rats unpleasantly reminded him of his thirst. Typically, he waited until the others were asleep to go off and hunt so they wouldn't suspect the truth about his condition. But seeing as they were all singing (except Lae'zel, of course), he guessed no one would notice if he stalked off.

He took no joy in his kill tonight, feeling grumpy as he continued to brood over his distaste for Tav. Two hundred years thinking of nothing but Cazador and he was finally free, only to spend every moment bemoaning his luck at being stuck with the spellcaster. He drained the boar of its blood and left it carelessly on the side of the path, electing to wander around for the remaining nighttime hours rather than returning to camp. He was too restless to trance anyway. And she was there. She probably conjures butterflies in her sleep and dreams rainbows, the foul beast.

"The hells is that?" asked Karlach, squinting at a large lump on the side of the path.

"Looks like a boar," said Wyll, going over to toe it with his boot, Tav close behind. "It looks... it looks like it's been drained of blood. There's no stain around it. I can't even see a wound."

"That's odd," remarked Shadowheart, quirking an eyebrow. Astarion shifted on his feet, agitated. Shit. He should have taken more care to cover his kill last night. Looking around, he started as he realized Tav was staring right at him.

"Oh, who cares, it's only a boar," he said impatiently, looking quickly away from her, unnerved. "Surely there are more interesting things to investigate. Look, I see goblins mounting an ambush through the gate up ahead. Let's go and kill something." He stalked off, not waiting for a reply and removing his daggers from their sheaths.

"Something on your mind?"

FUCK. Astarion couldn't remember the last time someone had snuck up on him. He had been pacing in a clearing just outside the camp, wondering if Tav somehow knew his secret. He was debating with himself whether he should abandon the group and set out on his own when her voice - the last voice he wanted to hear - startled him. Rounding on her with daggers drawn and his hair standing on end, he fixed her with his most murderous expression.

"Do you make a habit on intruding on people's private contemplations?" he hissed angrily.

"You know better than anyone the advantage of catching someone off-guard," she replied coolly, folding her arms and shifting her weight.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm as he lowered his weapons. He loathed her completely in that moment.

"Only wondering where you were. Looted some good food for supper from those goblins, if you're hungry." She tilted her head. "Or perhaps you've already eaten today."

They regarded each other cautiously as her words hung in the air. He was certain that she knew. Was she afraid he would hurt her, or the others? She could tell them his secret, and they would all turn on him. So what did she want in exchange for her silence? Was she shaking him down?

"I'm not hungry," he replied slowly. Slowly, he raised his empty hands, daggers now sheathed. A gesture of surrender. "I'm happy to keep watch while you all eat. I will ensure no harm comes to anyone."

She narrowed her eyes, seeming to understand the duality of his words. He was promising not to drink from them. After a beat, she replied with a stiff nod. He allowed his tense shoulders to drop. She was promising not to tell them. For now.

Satisfied at their new agreement, Astarion spent the next 2 days coming up with a new plan to manipulate Tav. With her being the the leader of their group, it seemed prudent to ensure that she would protect him should the others begin to turn on him. Much as he despised her, he conceded that she was his best chance to finding a cure for the parasite, and thus his best chance for true freedom from Cazador. If she was already willing to hide his condition from the others, it would not take too much more effort on his part to get her to play completely into his hand. All he had to do was try a little seduction. Even she couldn't best him at that game.

But even has his plan took shape, he could feel his thirst, an ever-present beast clawing up his throat, undermining him. It made him irritable, weak, and unfocused. Instead of charming her, he more often found himself arguing with her, stabbing her with vicious insults about her sorcery, her class, and even her looks. He didn't really even mean them; she had proven herself an adept spellcaster in both battle and everyday application, she seemed to come from a fine, middle-class family in Baldur's Gate, and her looks were perfectly adequate to the average person. Not beautiful enough to tempt Cazador, maybe, but enough that Astarion caught Gale's eyes lingering a little too long a little too often. For some reason, Astarion found that infuriating.

He had lobbed a particularly nasty mockery at her earlier in the day after she had insisted that they all run in to a burning building to rescue some helpless fool, so he was quite surprised to find her clearing her throat outside of his tent that evening.

"Come to shoot a firebolt at me since you didn't quite singe all of my eyebrows off this afternoon?" he inquired bitterly.

She rolled her eyes. "Can I come in?"

This was unusual. No one had ever asked to enter his tent before.

"I suppose," he replied cautiously, and she shouldered past him through the flap. He followed her back inside and she turned to face him, crossing her arms defensively.

"You've been a real arse these last days." She said it with a finality that left no room for argument. He poked at her anyway.

"Well, thank you," he broke into a smile and a shallow bow. "You should see me when I don't have a parasite in my head."

"I've had enough," she continued, as though he hadn't interrupted. "This ends now."

"What are you going to do?" he hissed, joking manner aside as he closed the distance between them threateningly. She was going to tell the others. "You'll be dead before you reach the door."

But as usual, the moment he had the upper hand, she pulled the rug out from under him. "I'd rather you not drink so much as to kill me, since I'm offering it out of the kindness of my heart."

He never could quite get his footing with her.

"Excuse me?"

"If you drink some of my blood, will you stop being such a devil's shite?"

It took considerable effort for Astarion to clamp his jaw shut and rearrange his features to mask his shock.

"You want me to drink your blood?"

"Want is a strong word. But I'm willing to make a small sacrifice for the good of the group if it'll shut you up long enough for us to find this Halsin without your moaning and whining."

"I do not moan and whine," he protested petulantly. "And I absolutely do not promise to shut up. But it will almost certainly improve my mood drastically." He licked his lips at the thought of it, eyeing her pulse point.

"Very well then. I suppose I'd better lay down in case I pass out."

Astarion watched motionlessly as she lowered herself onto his bedroll and swept her hair off her neck. His body seemed unable to move, yet his every instinct told him to tear her open right then and there. At the same time, the sight of her on his bedroll made him feel slightly nauseous - not because of her, but something akin to shame stirred in his abdomen. Just another victim for him to ruin. It was almost too easy. So why the sudden... guilt?

"Can we get on with it? I don't much fancy falling asleep in your bedroll."

Composing himself, Astarion dropped to his knees with a flourish and bent his body over hers. It was horribly intimate, and he could sense her discomfort. He lavished in it.

"Comfortable, darling?" he smirked at her and winked, and she rolled her eyes.

"If you accidentally kill me, you know that Karlach will make sure you burn alive. So, not a drop more than you need."

"Of course, my sweet. No need to worry. Only a teensy little sip and I'll be out of your hair."

She looked like she didn't believe a word, but she turned her head with a sigh, exposing her neck to him.

"It'll only hurt a pinch," he breathed as he lowered himself to her pulse point. He was struck for a moment by her scent - violet and plums and something smoky - before he bared his teeth. He felt her take a breath, and then he sunk his fangs in.

They moaned almost in unison, her in pain, and him in pleasure, as he began to drink. Gods, it was perfect, even better than he had ever imagined it could be. He could've sworn that her blood tasted like violet and plums as it splashed over his tongue. She was clutching his arms for support, and he felt his hand clamp down on her hip to hold her in place. But she didn't try to get up, laying stiffly beneath him as he suckled her lifeblood.

He could kill her. It would be so easy. She would feel like she was falling asleep, and he could drink her as dry as the boar on the side of the road. The image of it rose in his mind; her, pallid, bloodless, slack-jawed. No more stupid singing. No more butterfly dreams.

He retracted his fangs from her quickly, as though she had burned him suddenly. Her grip on his arms had weakened significantly, and her head seemed to loll on her neck.

"Oh dear. Don't pass out, darling."

He scooped his hand under her cheek and turned her face toward him. Her eyes were placid and unfocused, but she was blinking like she was trying to maintain consciousness. Already she looked pale. He bit back the resurgence of the guilty nausea and pulled a pillow under her head.

"Just a moment, love. We'll get you all sorted." His tone was light and airy as he rummaged in his pack for a healing potion, but he was more unnerved than he would've liked to admit.

"There we are." He uncorked the stopper and held her head up, tipping the potion down her throat slowly so as not to choke her. After a few deep breaths, she brought her hand up to her forehead and rubbed her temple.

"I said 'not too much', you arsewipe," her voice was weak, but clearly irritable.

"I can't help that you're so delicious," he cooed, relieved that the potion seemed to recover her somewhat. He noticed that her fingers were trembling, and a shiver wreaked through her whole body. Sighing, he pulled a thick blanket up around her. Her eyes on him were daggers, but she didn't push it off. "Just relax here for a bit. I won't be sleeping anytime soon, after that. It was quite... invigorating."

She eyed him curiously. "You say it like you've never done it before."

Sharp as ever. How did she always know?

"I... haven't. You're my first. My first... thinking creature, that is." He smirked at her, wiggling his eyebrows. "I bet you didn't guess I was a virgin."

She didn't take the bait. "So what did you eat?" Her fingers had stilled against her temple; he had her full attention now. He didn't like how her scrutiny made him feel. Somehow, even though she was so weak she couldn't raise her own head, he was the one feeling vulnerable.

"Oh, rats, flies, roaches, whatever one could find on hand 'round Cazador's dungeons," he said with forced nonchalance, examining his fingernails. "Cazador is - was - my master. I am his vampire spawn." He couldn't bear to look at her, sure he would see pity in her eyes that would make him want to claw his skin off. "How did you know about my condition, by the way?"

"You aren't as subtle as you think you are." His head snapped up at that, insulted. "And I've spent some time studying the condition. One of the guildmasters was hoping to imbibe a potion with some of the properties of vampire blood."

"To what end?" Astarion asked, curiosity piqued.

This time it was she who smirked. "The official story was that the research was focused on creating a more potent healing potion, since vampires are known to have such rapid regeneration. However," she pushed herself up gently on the pillows, "I always suspected they were hoping to create a potion of immortality."

"Well, that would be something," Astarion mused. "However did they get a vampire's blood to experiment with?"

"They didn't. It was all theoretical. I was trained to learn to recognize a vampire if I spotted one, with the hope of obtaining its blood for the research. With permission, or... by force." She looked as though the idea left a bad taste in her mouth. His face must have given his thoughts away as well, since she looked at him and chuckled. "Don't worry, I'm not going to steal your blood. I doubt it would have worked anyway."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well," she sat up further, the color beginning to return to her cheeks, "for one, I don't believe vampirism works in the way most mages think it does. It's not some kind of magical curse imbued with some mysterious arcane properties. I think it's... more like an illness. Like a plague, that can only be passed one way."

"Well, it certainly feels like a curse," Astarion intoned bitterly. "And if it's an illness, I've never heard of a cure."

She shrugged. "It's only a guess. But it is a little exciting to meet one up close, after all my research." She was smiling at him earnestly now, again making him feel uncomfortable.

"You're a strange creature. I just drank your blood and you're excited. One might think you have... odd predilections." He grinned wickedly at her.

She chuckled. "How are you feeling now? Less cranky?"

Astarion took stock of his body as he climbed to his feet. "I feel strong. I feel..." he trailed off a moment, searching for the right word. "Happy."

Tav clamored to her feet as well, with far less grace. She wove unsteadily for a moment, and he caught her waist to ensure she didn't pull his tent down in a fall. They were standing quite close again, and he felt his guard drop for a moment.

"Thank you," he said quietly, "for trusting me. I... this is a gift, you know. I won't forget it."

"I suspect neither will I," she murmured, smiling at him once more. "Well, good night then."

"Sweet dreams."

He watched her walk slowly and tiredly back to her tent on the other side of the clearing, head reeling with everything that had just happened. She had offered herself to him, but not in the way he was used to. She had offered her blood, and she had trusted him to take it. But why? What is there for her to gain?

She wanted him placated, clearly. Perhaps she was as annoyed by him as he was by her and really did just want to shut him up. Maybe she was mounting her own manipulation plan, forcing him to be dependent on her blood to do her bidding. He hated knowing that if she offered again, he would greedily accept. But what reason did she have to trust him so easily not to kill her, when all he had done since they met was insult her? What was she reading about him that he didn't even know himself? The questions plagued him as he hunted that night, wishing every sip of animal blood was hers. He had a taste for it now, and it ruined him. If he had thought about her constantly before, he was doomed now.

As he lay down in his bedroll to trance, he raked his hand over his face. Then, he began to laugh bitterly. All around him, the only thing he could sense was aroma of violet and plums.

Part 2

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion angst #baldurs gate astarion #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #wip

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briar-ffxiv · 16 days

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— B A S I C S

Name: Briar (the) Redfeather Nicknames: 'Rose', 'Little Fox', 'Wildling' Age: Early 20s in ARR, probably nearing 30 by Dawntrail (depending on timeline) Nameday: 21st Sun of the 3rd Umbral Moon (not that he knows exactly. He just knows the month) Race: Half-Elezen/Half-Hyur (Padjal bloodline through Hyur) Gender: Non-binary, masculine leaning (born male, prefers he/they) Orientation: Demiromantic Greysexyal Profession: Healer, Shepherd, Warrior of Light(depending on the 'verse)

— P H Y S I C A L A S P E C T S

Hair: strawberry blonde, almost rose gold with lighter gold highlights due to the sun. He has 3A curls, although when kept short the curls are less noticeable. Eyes: warm moss-green flecked with gold Skin: naturally quite pale, faint golden tan from the sun and tons of freckles everywhere. Tattoos/scars: no tattoos. Leaf birthmark on his right shoulderblade. Plenty of scars, including the slice from a spear on his left cheek, burn scars on his left shoulder and back, and rather heavily scarred palms and undersides of his fingers due to a nasty injury to his hands

— F A M I L Y

Parents: His mother was named Saule (Willow) and her family was from Dravania, but sought shelter in the Black Shroud when Saule was very small. His father was known as Ciro, officially U-Ciro-Tek before he was disgraced and exiled from being a Padjal. Siblings: Briar was an only child, as was his mother. Grandparents: Briar knows nothing about Ciro's parents, other than they died some years before he was born. Saule's father died before he was born. His grandmother died when he was under two so he has no memories of her. In-laws and Other: As far as Briar knows, his only living blood relative is E-Rani-Tek, Ciro's older brother and a Padjali pariah. Pets: Briar has a terrible habit of adopting many a creature, although if they are wild-born his goal is always to return them to the wild. Currently, he has a small herd of sheep, a flock of chickens, three Chocobo (one grown, two chicks), a dog named Jack, and a unicorn friend named Whinny. (And a lot of little forest friends that take care of themselves but visit often.)

— S K I L L S

Abilities: Despite normally not eating meat, Briar is a skilled archer, hunter, and tracker. He is an avid gardener. He has a knack for animal handling. He has a decent, if untrained, singing voice. He knows a lot about herbal medicine and non-magical healing. He rides quite well. Hobbies: Briar loves a good book, particularly romance. He loves beekeeping. He is quite skilled in many kinds of fibre arts, including weaving, spinning, and sewing. He likes to draw as well.

— T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Briar is a very kind person. He always gives the benefit of the doubt. He does his best to settle things without violence if he can. He forgives often and tries to be empathetic to everyone he meets. Most Negative Trait: Briar can definitely be naive. He forgives when he shouldn't. He has a very hard time understanding why anyone would be cruel. Sometimes he simply doesn't get it and it puts him at a disadvantage with people more than willing to take advantage of that.

— L I K E S

Colours: Blues, greens, golds. Smells: Fresh-cut wood. The smell of rain on grass. Hay. The smell of clean, well-oiled leather. Honey. Textures: Silky fabric. Soft wool. Supple leather. Smooth wood. Drinks: Various teas, often floral varieties. Soft spot for juices. Loves the rare treat of hot chocolate.

— O T H E R D E T A I L S

Smokes: He doesn't. Drinks: He is not against a glass of something fairly light in safe company but left to his own devices, Briar doesn't really have the urge to drink. Drugs: He doesn't. Mount Insurance: He would have no idea what that is, but he does have a unicorn he rides in the Black Shroud, but normally prefers his own feet. (Once he's officially in the steppes, I might get him an actual house.) Been Arrested: Detained by Wood Wailers more than once, but not officially arrested.

(( Art is by @shadesofblades / @coffeehands! ))

Tagged by: @thefrostflower @tripl3cast @sundered-souls - thank you all! <3

Tagging: @shieke @valdiis @shadesofblades @midnightmagicks @bloodredhands @prettygayway @avaritia-ffxiv @calico-heart @thefrostflower @starrysnowdrop @ahollowgrave @naejlas-axe @cadrenebula @skyysinger & anyone else that wants to do it!

#answers #ask briar #character: briar redfeather

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ramshacklerumble · 3 days

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Weird ask, but how would Gia classify in a dungeon crawler? Like, the healer, the brawler, the tank, etc etc….I hope I’m using those terms correctly

not a weird ask at all, i love ability breakdowns. i had to consult my buddy @tixdixl tho bc im not well-versed in things like this.

if we're talking jrpg then they'd fall into dps/damage per second. despite me throwing gia in scenarios where they're scrapping it out mano-a-mano with someone, when it comes to legitimate battle, gia excels at ranged combat due to their skill with a slingshot.

when they start dabbling in self-made magic however and create their first working version of the magestone slingshot gia uses in battle throughout freshman year, gia is able to small bits of damage constantly through casting "debuffs" so to speak.

early examples include an "insta-grow" potion that ensnares opponents in rapidly growing vines to slow movement (they use a kelp variation of this potion in book 3 against the leech brothers), itching powder, stink and tear seed bombs, and thorn shots.

if we're talking DnD though theyd fall into the ranger class.

at the end of their sophomore year tho they've successfully upgraded to the magestone slingSTAFF which packs a hell of a lot more wallop than their slingshot did. it casts actual spells instead of relying on little glass potion marbles.

(ive yet to fully land on a design for their ramshackle housewarden uniform, but its something along these lines.)

tag list:

@cyanide-latte @simons-twsted-children @inmateofthemind @blithesharem @thehollowwriter @jovieinramshackle

@theleechyskrunkly @skriblee-ksk @boopshoops (lmk if you wanna be added)

#im still figuring out the specifics on both the slingshot and slingstaff but i do have a lot of fun doing so #the slingstaff funtions as a slingshot but gia can use it as a legit staff to summon various plants #so they're technically a chlorokinetic mage?? LEL #flora is a HUUUUGE umbrella which gia uses to their advantage #just add magic to the mix lel #gia yugo #gar speaks #twst oc #yuusona #twisted wonderland oc

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rasenkaikyo · 20 days

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⛩ Hinako Daigo ⛩

Thank you @chadhunkler and @shroudkeeper for tagging me! 💜

I don't know who I should tag! So if you see this if you wanna do it/haven't done it for an alt or something, tag me and I'll make sure to tag in the future.

Basics

Name: 大悟の日和子 Daigo no Hinako

Nicknames: Hina

Age: 26 summers

Nameday: 16th Sun of the 3rd Umbral Moon

Race: Raen Au Ra

Gender: Cis Female

Orientation: Bisexual

Profession: Shrine priest/kannushi, healer-adventurer.

Physical Aspects

Hair: Dark brown into black.

Eyes: Dark purplish-red with pinkish limbal rings.

Skin: A mid-deep brown

Tattoos/scars: A number of trace scars, most notable a slash scar near her right shoulder and a burn scar on the same side of her abdomen.

Family

Parents: Katanobu Musa (father, deceased) and Honoka Daigo (mother, missing)

Siblings: Kanako Daigo (younger sister)

Grandparents: Morimoto and Komachi Daigo (maternal grandfather and grandmother, both deceased).

In-laws and Other: Kirisame Akiudo, Kagetora and Sakuya Daigo (cousins), Misuzu Kurenai (step-cousin).

Pets: Bakusan (tapir), and a number of pets shared with her partner, including Raiken and Hayate (shiba inu), Sakumi (hawk).

Skills

Abilities: Hinako displays great potential with manipulation of qi, in controlling elemental magic and in healing. She has a closeness with the unseen world and can commune with various spirits, and exceptional perception of the qi around her.

She also stands versed in martial arts as part of supplementary training, in kenjutsu and primarily bajiquan, and is stronger than her initial presence suggests.

Hobbies: Weaving, botany (per her training), exploring, playing music, trying new foods.

Traits

Most Positive Trait: Extremely genial.

Most Negative Trait: Has often kept her troubles to herself.

Likes

Colors: Purples, pinks, green, white.

Smells: Flowers, petrichor, moss, incense.

Textures: Grass, silk, wood, stone.

Drinks: Teas

Other details

Smokes: Not at all.

Drinks: On occasion she may partake in umeshu or sake, or share a drink with another when being social.

Drugs: None such.

Mount Issuance: A white falcon of her village so aptly named Yuki, and at times in Eorzea a horsebird called Mogumogu.

Been Arrested: Detained on dubious grounds mostly, including once by Imperials in occupied Doma, and in Gridania out of suspicion towards her practices.

#ffxiv #prompts #writing #lore #about #hinako daigo

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dulceteris · 1 year

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HC that, because Tank felt as if they had a part to play in Quinn’s reign of violent terror, they felt as if they weren’t worth the magic it took to heal them. But then Sam came into their life and suddenly they actually had to worry about getting healed.

Suddenly, Tank has to start budgeting their already strained finances since most of their time is spent trying to hunt down Quinn as opposed to working for hourly pay whenever they can to stock their pantry, which leaves very little money left for healing (idk how insurance or healers work in the redacted-verse so bear with me). So, they learn how to sterilize and suture their own wounds since they refuse to keep burning Sam out, they can’t afford to consistently go to a healer, and absolutely will not ask their (relatively wealthy) family for financial help.

One time they didn’t properly sterilize a wound in their side and it got infected and they ended up passing out in their bathroom when reapplying bandages and ointment because A) the swelling and redness hurt like a bitch to the point where their side felt hot to the touch B) their fever was pretty shit and C) they weren’t drinking enough water because they couldn’t bring themself to get out of bed other than to clean up their side. Cue waking up on the bathroom floor thoroughly confuzzled to frantic knocking at their front door.

Sam freaked the fuck out when he went to their apartment and could smell the distinct, unpleasant scent of infection lingering from outside Tank’s front door. There was a lecture involved, especially after Tank finally answered the door and Sam found out that they got a minor concussion from their bathroom mishap.

At least they’re trying to take better care of themself.

#redacted headcanons #redactedverse #redacted #redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted sam #redacted darlin #sam x darlin #darklin is a mess #sam loves them anyway for some reason

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the-trans-folk-witch · 8 months

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Spirits within-

Part 1 The Fetch:

The Witch’s Shade and Its Distaste For “shadow work”

Alternate title: The [Un]Holy spirit of the Witch.

This blurb is meant to be lost to the internet as an opinion of one witch. This is not an academic writing documenting the fetch of folklore or of other traditions found in traditional witchcraft systems. Rather, it is a hot take on the mass hysteria and spiritual psychosis masquerading as “shadow work”. There will be discussions of the shade, the fetch, and the witch’s relationship with healing (or lack of) to follow. I am purely sharing my own beliefs from the tradition I’ve built. If anything here resonates please take it and add it to your own praxis. If you disagree then… cool I guess. Keep it to yourself lol.

The fetch has been called many things by different folks. Some titles being largely misused but nonetheless accepted: The witch’s shade, the hag, the shadow self, the inner child, and even the Unholy spirit. A creature within the pit of the stomach and/or the nether regions. In the average person, the shade is curious, animalistic, childlike, and sexual. It carries selfishness, trauma, greed, and lust. This is the part of the soul that sins and day-dreams. Everyone has one. Only, they all behave differently and the witch embraces its dark nature.

This is also the part of the soul that carries trauma. Within many modern occult circles this “inner child” is seen as something in need of healing. Something that needs to be nourished. This belief is valid from a folk healing perspective. The trad witch however, finds power within the shade’s restlessness. Healing it is antithetical to witchcraft. Before you run off saying otherwise, I wanted to stress that I am a huge advocate for therapy and self reflection. But as you may have guessed, My mental health practices do not overlap with my religious practice. Just as the folk healer is valid in the loosening of this spirit’s grip on their life. As is the witch in allowing their darkness to fester.

A term becoming more common within recent years would be “shadow work.” I have a complicated relationship with this term’s use. Again, there is historical necessity of spiritual healing. And many folk practices find importance in it. However, the western occult community has allowed toxic positivity to invade this idea of shadow work. The term is forced on all magical practitioners and psychology is being forced upon modern practices by people who are not licensed to truly deal out psychological advice. Many times have I heard false teachings such as “don’t do magic until you’ve done shadow work” as if it’s a one-and-done-chore. As if it’s linked to a spirit’s ability to help you. I can assure you, my money bowl will bring me money even if I have ignored my daddy issues and various traumas.

Shadow work has become a white E-girl’s fantasy that allows her to flex her DIY therapy and compartmentalization skills. And yes, it’s always white girls. Although, the white-ego and woman-traumas are a different type of blog post…..

Non initiated “witches” have removed the concept of the fetch and replaced it with psychologically obsessed and compulsory beliefs. There is an unhealthy blending of psychoanalysis and spirituality plaguing our world. Sifting through the healthy kinds of healing based practices verses the hysterical is daunting. But as a Witch I see all of it as unnecessary within my practice.

As I stated, everyone has a shade. But to the witch it is corrupt. It is not just curious, but hungry. It does not need to heal but to curse and steal. This spirit is not like the shade of the common folk. It can not be ignored, cleansed, purged, or healed. It is the witching spirit. It is the fetch. It is the hag. It is this self-serving and devilish outlook that has separated our shade from the others. This is not to say shadow work and the ever increasing interest for people to psychoanalyze their spirituality is unnecessary. In fact I’m saying quite the opposite. Despite the obsessive and compulsory need to constantly be healing and “breaking generational curses/trauma”; healing is important for humans of all beliefs. Folk healers have a long history of healing mental and physical ailments with prayers and the aid of spirits. But modern occultists have forgotten, the witch is not a witch if they are not hurt or oppressed. The witch is the opposite of healing and peace. The fetch reflects that. Our soul is stained by the devil. There is no healing it despite what the church tells you.

We all have a shade. But unlike Christians, I will not ignore it. I feed it. I will not shamefully confess the acts it urges me to do as a catholic would. I do not see it’s chaos as something bad. I do not believe that overcoming my trauma and getting therapy will effect my ability to craft spells as new agers do. I also do not think my spirits will refuse to help me just because I didn’t buy that stupid shadow work journal being advertised all over the internet. I am a Witch. A messy, cruddy, muddy, selfish, entitled witch. I am the villain society has told queers to be. I am the bad guy in most social settings. I purposely usurp, overthrow, and evade all social norms and authority figures just to make your skin crawl. I am THE edge lord of all edge lords. I do not seek to heal that wound. It fuels my witch fire.

TLDR: A shade born into oppression is likely to become a whitch’s shade. A living haint if you will. Blurring the lines between therapy and magic is not witchcraft. But it is not invalid either.

Now that I’ve established my beliefs in the shade and it’s transformation into the fetch; allow me to discuss how I view it as a spirit that can be worked with as a sentient daemon.

As an animist I quite simply view this shadow version of myself as being alive inside of me. It is a spirit I can send out to do my bidding and it is the hag I take the form as when I fly. An “astral body” as they call it these days. I will mention that many trad witches do not approach the fetch as a sentient spirit but do acknowledge it’s existence within them. Just as people doing shadow work do not approach this shade or “inner child” as an actual entity. But I prefer to view it much like Christians do the Holy Spirit. To me it functions as the Unholy Spirit which is placed within sinners by the devil. Wether it’s born with us as Catholics say sin is, or is placed within us upon dark baptism/initiation is up to debate. But it definitely is an outside source being blended with my own power. Hence the birth of it from trauma and magic.

My fetch appears in visions and dreams. Sometimes it’s beautiful and appears as a fictional and impossibly beautiful version of myself. It’s a jab at my insecurities. And other times it’s a gross wound of a being. Covered in wrinkles, hair, and sometimes bugs. The fetch is both my ideal dream and my worst nightmare. So, I use it to instill such traits in others. I take this spirit’s form upon myself and hag ride enemies. I steal beauty and wealth via dream visitations. I bestow disease and sour luck to those who have created this fetch (read ‘trauma’). It is the spirit within and without. A spirit that is me that has been made infernal and other. It is the Unholy Spirit made flesh.

#folk witchcraft #traditional witchcraft #transgender witches #beginner witch #folk catholicism #ozark magic #trad craft #witchblr #animism #shadow witch #shadow work #inner child #the fetch #spirits within

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alexanderlightweight · 11 months

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Can I ask for more shadow heir alec? I like the idea of baby shadow alec meeting and charming downworlders, after raphael who would be next? I just had the thought of pretty much everyone knowing him but magnus because reasons until they meet at ragnor's

here we go!! i hope you enjoy

early part in the star eater verse

lumine

“So this is your friend.” Cat says and her smile is warm and welcoming as she looks at Alec.

Alec is watching her curiously, with the same wary edge he greets everyone but Ragnor has already warned her that he’s like this with everyone. Honestly, it’s only because of how much Alec respects and — hopefully trusts — Ragnor that he accepted to be secretly portaled out of the Institute.

It’s only because Alec keeps a great many secrets from his mother that Ragnor risked this, that he’s risking Cat as well.

“Hello Healer Loss.” Alec says politely, a little nod that’s respectful but doesn’t risk him putting himself in a more vulnerable position. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Catarina blinks down at him and then she nods, her own little head tilt that Alec smiles shyly at. It’s clear he’s pleased by the fact that she understands and well, Ragnor prefers to keep others away from Alec’s actual body.

His shadows don’t take lightly to others infringing on Alec’s personal space and well, Ragnor doesn’t blame them in the slightest.

“There will be times when you’ll be called to the Institute in the future.” Ragnor starts carefully, “I know you are aware that I was called in to oversee the contract between a healer and the Institute. They don’t know our connection and Alec understands he has to pretend you’ve never met, but I feel better with everyone meeting before anything like that happens.”

Because as soon as Ragnor realized the warlock Maryse had picked was Cat, he knew he had to do something. Anything to mitigize the risk that would be working on Alec if he needed medical aid. If it was another warlock, Ragnor wouldn’t have bothered but he will do anything for Cat, which includes what would be considered the breach of an Institute’s wards and the kidnapping of one of their most reverred heir.

It’s Ragnor’s hope that meeting first in safety, will ensure Cat’s own safety if she has to work with an Alec who unconscious or out of it from pain or deliruim.

“It’s nice to meet you as well, Alec Trueblood?” Cat asks, as if checking even though she’s never forgotten a patient’s name in her life and as of today, she considers Alec a patient.

“It’s just Alec.” He gives a little shrug and his shadow pools and Ragnor notices how Cat’s eyes widen and then narrow slightly in academic concentration. “Trueblood is for shadowhunters when they’re being stupid.”

Ragnor turns his head and coughs, because when he’d allowed Alec to call him Ragnor, he’d had to explain to the lad why everyone else they interacted with had to call him Fell or Potion Master Fell.”

Ragnor is fairly certain he’s managed to explain without too much of a problem, but the resulting issue is that Alec doesn’t understand why nephilim hate downworlders and therefore, thinks most of them are entirely insensible and stupid.

In his very young and very sensible opinion — at least Ragnor thinks it’s sensible — it doesn’t make sense to pick a fight with people who don’t need to be enemies. All that causes is more enemies, and Alec feels like they have enough of those with just demons.

Also, according to Alec, he met a very pretty vampire who was probably very old but looked very young and Alec felt that the clave was probably jealous. Especially since most of the nephilim didn’t live long enough to look old.

From the mouth of babes, Ragnor thinks to himself as he watches Cat and Alec cautiously intereact.

She’s doing just as well as Ragnor thought she would. Treating him like not-quite feral cat, but something close to that and it’s with an internal sigh of relief, that Ragnor watches them touch hands.

Cat’s magic pools a lovely sunset pink in her palm and Alec very carefully, sets his tiny hang in her palm, small fingers wreathed with dark tendrils. The shadows seem to vibrate for a moment, Cat’s magic sparking and then it all settles and they both retreat.

Cat with an intrigued look and Alec with a thoughtful one.

“As lovely as this has been, and it has been lovely.” The best Ragnor had hoped for, “I must be getting this lad back to his room to actually finish our tutoring.”

They say their goodbyes and when Ragnor has Alec back in the Institute, practicing on the range and motions of his shadows, he checks his phone and smiles at the text Cat has sent. It appears, that Alec will have someone in New York looking out for him, even when Ragnor is across the pond.

#lumine writes #writing wednesday #writing wednesdays #star eater #ragnor fell #alec lightwood #catarina loss #shadowhunters #malec

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mxlfoydraco · 1 year

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Hello! I came upon one of your rec list on the drarry tag earlier and I was wondering if you still do them? If so, do you know any drarry fic that is draco + career centered? Like draco being excellent at his job and it being more in the foreground. Something like Heal Thyself by astolat or Little Red Courgette by blamebrampton. Competent draco is the norm but I was wondering if you know of more fics that explores his/their careers more :) Love your blog 💕

Hello friend! I'm very tentatively doing recs always with the caveat that I'm not super up to date. I think majority of the fics in the Draco-centric list fit this description so I'll add onto that without repeating myself.

All Our Secrets Laid Bare by @firethesound (2014, E, 150k)

Over the six years Draco Malfoy has been an Auror, four of his partners have turned up dead. Harry Potter is assigned as his newest partner to investigate just what is going on.

What Dreams May Come by @firethesound (36k)

If Harry had to get called into work on his day off, at least he was able to get Malfoy called in too.

Any Instrument by @dictacontrion (131k)

Draco Malfoy wouldn't go back to England for anything less than an exceptional case. Being asked to figure out why Harry Potter can't control his magic might be exceptional enough to qualify.

The Vanishing Department by @dictacontrion (47k)

The things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, even if that involves a lot more form-filling, bickering, covert glancing, miscommunication, and flying furniture than we might expect.

The Ordeal of Being Known by @lou-isfake (146k)

When Auror Potter is anonymously cursed with silence by being forced to hide his own voice inside his mind, there's unfortunately only one person in the country with the qualifications to fix it: Certified and Licensed Healer Legilimens, Draco Malfoy, specialist in Mind Curses and Afflictions. It's obviously a terrible idea, a disaster waiting to happen, but Draco's never been able to back down from a challenge… especially from Potter.

Balance, Imperfect by @bixgirl1 (91k)

When Harry sustains an injury in the line of work, he no longer knows how to navigate the life he loved, and finds help and solace from the most unexpected source.

The Four Doors by @fluxweeed (48k)

It’s been four months since Harry lost his memory. Four months of dead ends and no answers. With time running out until his memories are gone for good, Harry agrees to a course of Legilimency therapy with a renowned specialist: Mind Healer Draco Malfoy.

Open for Repairs by @drarrytrash (34k)

After the war, Draco works at a tv repair shop and Harry breaks things. feat. sad boys in jumpers and more ABBA than is probably necessary

What We Pretend We Can't See by gyzym (131k)

Seven years out from the war, Harry learns the hard truth of old history: it’s never quite as far behind you as you thought.

Foundations!verse by Saras_Girl (364k)

Harry is about to discover that the steepest learning curve comes after Healer training, and that second chances can be found in unexpected places.

All Life is Yours to Miss by Saras_Girl (114k) Professor Malfoy’s world is contained, controlled, and as solitary as he can make it, but when an act of petty revenge goes horribly awry, he and his trusty six-legged friend are thrown into Hogwarts life at the deep end and must learn to live, love and let go.

Taking Chances by @gracerene (135k)

After the war, Draco disappeared and started over in America, vowing never to return to Great Britain and the fraught past he left behind. Unfortunately, when his mates convince him to sign up for an exchange programme for the last year of their Auror Training, Draco learns that he doesn't have much of a choice in the matter.

Conquering the Dark by @noeeon (23k)

Harry's a Healer specialising in the care of children, Draco Malfoy's an expert in neuromagic at St Mungo's. A difficult case forces them to work together and, in the process, unearths some of the trauma of the past, as well as the chance for healing in the present.

The Printed Press by Soupy_George (119k)

Draco has worked hard to gain a reputation as an unbiased reporter for the Prophet. He never imagined this would lead to Harry Potter offering him a job, or how much accepting said job would change his life.

Home Truths by @skeptiquewrites (67k)

In the off-season Harry decided to fix up Grimmauld Place and found that Draco Malfoy was the only person who could help him. A demanding career and unrelenting press scrutiny were enough to deal with before Harry added a house with a mind of its own, family history, and a tense, flirty, complicated relationship with his childhood nemesis to the mix.

All the Earnest Young Men by @tepre (29k)

All over London portraits are disappearing from their canvases. Auror Harry! Expert-in-Magical-Art-Theory Draco! There's running, dancing, falling through ice, what’s this paper giraffe doing here? A great time was had by all.

Under Giant Mountains by @wolfpants (33k)

Harry doesn't know where he's going. Everyone else has their life paths figured out; he doesn't even know where his map is. Who'd have thought Draco Malfoy bathing in a Norwegian forest would be the guidepost Harry needed? In which Harry's trip to Norway to visit dragon-wrangler Ron introduces him to hikes from hell, mysterious natural magic, foraging, magical bathing, a new and bizarre friendship, and the frustrating, heady allure of his former nemesis turned sexy globetrotting field researcher.

Paper Rings by @lettersbyelise (50k)

When Harry’s in need of a divorce lawyer, he has no choice but to turn to the best in the trade. Draco Malfoy’s reputation for discretion is flawless, and his track record for winning cases is close to perfect. But he’s also ruthless, passionate, and as infuriating as ever, and the brief relationship he and Harry had in Eighth Year still feels painfully fresh despite two decades spent apart. What Harry and Draco used to be is all in the past. And surely they can work together in these new, emotionally charged circumstances without falling in love all over again… can’t they?

The Kisses Don’t Count, If No One Else Knows by oldenuf2nb (41k)

Minister for Magic Harry Potter does not love his job. The one bright point in his life is his secret relationship with Quidditch Super Star Draco Malfoy. When they're 'outed' by a peeping tom with a camera, Harry has to decide what's really important.

The Truth About Love by @amywaterwings (52k)

In which Draco is a high-powered magical divorce lawyer and Harry is the Unspeakable assigned to seduce him. It goes as well as one might expect.

Picking Up Pieces series by TessaCrowley (22k + 21k) The Unbearable Burden of Caring: Fifteen years after the War, Draco is a social recluse and award winning author. Harry is an auror who works too hard, ensuring his old war wounds never heal. They meet at a masque ball, unaware of each other’s identities. In another situation, it would have been love at first sight. But for them, it would never be so simple. Sins and Scars and Shattered Things: Fifteen years have passed since the War, but the wizarding world isn’t quite ready to forgive Draco Malfoy for his past sins, or for being in love with Harry Potter. For a former Death Eater who escaped conviction, it is a trial by fire.

Coffee, Cakes and Doorknob Snakes by Omi_Ohmy (40k)

Harry's house is trying to kill him, and only one person can help him: pity it's Draco Malfoy

I Do Not Love You by Writ_and_romance (228k)

In 2013, a carefully-designed Obliviation leaves Harry reconfiguring his life and identity without any memories of true love; an act that's essentially erased Draco Malfoy from his mind despite a wedding band and shared home. In 2000, Draco had expected Pansy's relationship with Luna to bring the Gryffindors a bit closer to his orbit of quiet, carefully pacifistic existence, but he never expected to navigate such a transparent embrace into a unit of family, friendship, and love. A mystery, two love stories, and a reminder that learning to love never has an end date.

#drarry #drarry fic rec #drarry fic recs #draco malfoy #harry potter #drarry fic #drarry fics #my recs

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sarahowritesostucky · 2 months

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The whole worldbuilding you did around younger omegas and older alphas was so interesting! Like imagining how those issues would be handled in society. Why did you change the age of bucky tho? Wasn't he 16 before?

Hey! (I thiiink I know who this is?? 😉) I gotchu girl!

The 16 age is because there is a Tumblr staff member who doesn't understand the ToS and who has capriciously deleted whatever she feels like deleting when it "bothers" her. And she's decided that I bother her. So even though fiction with teenager/18+ character sexual pairings are permitted and are regularly posted by other fan authors, I need to be wary. So that's why Bucky is now magically 18, lol. If you want to read the story in it's original and intended format, you can go to Ao3. They don't censor fictional literary content.

NOW, buckle your seatbelt and come on this worldbuilding journey with me!

In this 'verse, historically, societies worldwide had different systems set up with the primary goals to:

Keep post-pubertal omega youths safe

Meet their sexual needs

Meet their non-sexual intimacy needs

Generally speaking, in a western cultural context, this is the order things would go in if a family took the "proper" steps with their omega child:

Once heats began at about 13-14, the omega youth would be assigned to an omega matriarchal figure for guidance. Sometimes this was a parent, sometimes an extended family member, or often just a well-respected omega in the community. This is the person who would teach them about being omega, their urges, how to handle their heats, etc. This person would also look out for them to make sure nobody was preying on them.

Now, omegas are naturally hypersexual beginning at around age 13-14 when their heats begin. But their urges intensify significantly in the following year or two, becoming much harder to ignore or self-satisfy.

Though religion in the west often asserted the need for chastity by restricting sexual relations to only one partner or certain times of the month, it was still understood that omegas were naturally hypersexual and needed special attention. It was also virtually expected that most omegas would wind up engaging in some degree of superficial sex-play with other omega peers. This wasn't frowned upon at all.

At around age 16, most omegas would transition from their omega matriarch into the care of an alpha mentor - typically someone older and more mature. It wouldn't be uncommon for an alpha in their 30s or even 40s to take on this role. They would fulfill all the roles of the previous matriarch, with the addition of a sexual relationship with the omega. They would help satisfy them through their heats, provide needed close contact, and give them practice for modeling healthy A-o relationship patterns.

There are other setups in other parts of the world, though:

In ancient societies and also in many non-western cultures, there might be one or a handful of community-designated alphas who always took the mentor role as part of their job (i.e. wise man, sexual mystic, healer, shaman, etc.). In such cases as that, the alpha guardian role was purely transitory and only meant to last until the omega reached mating age and went on to find a suitable alpha mate in the community.

In some middle eastern cultures, most omegas would be rounded up and appropriated by only the most wealthy and important alphas, who would be the ones to care for them in their harems.

Medieval Europe also sometimes saw the "rounding up" of omegas to be delivered into the hands of feudal alpha lords.

Polygamy was also fairly common in Europe up until the 1950s. The most common arrangement was an A-A marriage, with an added omega partner brought into the marriage later. Or a single alpha might mate two or three omegas.

In East Asian cultures, omegas often got betrothed at puberty and went to go live in their betrothed's family's compound, wherein they remained in that family's omega-only communal space, and were entrusted to the care of that extended family's alphas.

Back to the alpha-mentor system of western cultures. The alpha was usually either someone that the omega youth's parents knew and reached out to, or else the alpha might themself approach the youth's parents to ask for permission to take on the role.

In these arrangements, the alpha mentor might wind up deciding to mate the omega themselves, but it wasn't expected. It depended on the specific location and time period, as well as on the individuals involved (personality, class, wealth, age difference), as to whether this choice was socially approved of or not.

But for example in the US or England in the 1900-1950 time range, it would've still been very common for an omega youth to choose to mate with their alpha mentor once they reached the age of about 18-20. An age gap of anywhere between 10-30 years was considered normal.

(Due to the cross-cultural norm of large A-o age gaps, virtually all societies have always had strong social support systems set in place for the care of widowed omegas (though alphas do tend to live a decade or more longer than betas and omegas)).

Younger alphas aged 18-24 were usually not considered experienced or mature enough to perform the alpha mentor role.

It was after the feminist ("omega-ist") movement and the sexual revolution of the 60s and 70s that things really changed. Omegas were increasingly expected to be independent, to pursue careers outside the home, delay or forgo mating and children, and to behave the same way as anybody else.

So the omega matriarch/alpha mentor system really fell by the wayside and isn't commonly used in modern society.

Some schools may designate an omega matriarch equivalent in a school counselor, but the en vogue, "modern" attitude is to act like omegas don't have any biological need for alphas, and are in fact no different from betas.

Since the 2010s, there's been a growing backlash to the results of the feminist (omega-ist) movement, with some people returning to more traditional values. That's essentially where Steve and his school falls.

😅

I know I reeeeally went on a tangent on this one. Hope you liked the details and let me know if you have any more questions!

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thoughtfullyrainynightmare · 9 months

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Can u do a 💎 for each vermillion? Ik their not underrated but I still would want to hear some of ur thoughts.🙃

NO WORRIES!! I have a "free option" for both events, but I'm happy to ramble something about each of them! But let us file it under the Headcanon Event ^^

🦄 - Free space

In order of age if I'm not mistaken

Mereoleona:

Sometimes I really dislike how people make her into being just an "all anger and violence and bloodlust" when she's a much deeper character than that. And I am thankful for the movie to have showcased that, though it was rushed and but a large fight scene in a lot of other ways. At least it did Mereo justice in showing that she... has a heart.

She is a caring individual, who is a warrior, don't get me wrong, but she has a softer side too. And I think that a lot of her fierce nature comes from wanting to protect, and knowing that she is able to protect, those that are close to her.

She's not a fighter; someone who fights for the sake of a fight. She's a warrior; someone who fights for a cause.

Fuegoleon:

Similarly, I don't care for how sometimes it feels like a portion of the fandom makes Fue out to be... dumb. As in, sure, he's a serious guy who's not always in touch with the times, or the people, but... That doesn't make him stupid. Luckily the circles I'm in currently don't have this issue, but I've seen more than enough takes on how he's but a dumb doormat who'd forgive any wrong done onto him because he's weak like that. And that's partly why I feel like emphasizing that his ability to upkeep peace amongst the captains about the betrayal done onto him took incredible strength of character.

He is smart. He is capable. But he's serious and a bit of a prude (affectionate).

Kirsch:

He's more than "I'm pretty✨". In fact, I think that his need to emphasize his own beauty stems from insecurity. He doesn't feel like he'd ever add up to some standard that he has set for himself. A case of "pretend to be confident until you yourself believe it".

And I'd go as far as to say that it might play into him being the VC of the Peacocks. Maybe he feels overwhelmed by the position, but he still wants to do as good of a job as he can in it.

The man's more than just a pretty face.

Mimosa:

She's the only "not-mainly-attack" mage among the Vermillions, and it must be tough, because she's... a healer in a House full of Battle Mages. And it wouldn't be surprising if she has heard comments about how "poor Mimosa... she's not like the rest of her family". The thought came from this fic by @/wildflowerwoods.

She's not weak for being kind, for being a healer. Hell, a well versed healer is the next thing from a god at a field of battle, because once they run out of mana, they decide who gets to live and who dies.

Leopold:

He's not weak for not finding his learning method or fighting style as young as his siblings did. There are some people who don't learn to study until well into their adult years, and there's no re3why it'd be different with Leo. Even in BC Noelle took time to get control of her magic, and she uses a wand to better direct her spells. Sometimes you just need to find the right tool.

So, Leo isn't just "a precious baby in need of protection", he's a sweet guy with a heart of gold, who's a great warrior in the making. He's just got to figure out the right path, or the way to travel the path, for himself.

#mereoleona vermillion #fuegoleon vermillion #kirsch vermillion #mimosa vermillion #leopold vermillion #black clover headcanons 2023 #This... might be a bit rant-y #But it's my free space of thoughts! So I hope you like my ramblings ^^'

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gentleeclipsey · 8 months

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Salem's mother, Roa!

She's the clan's healer, a master of medicines with a heart so kind she'll soften the angriest trolls with her gentle nature. She has a lovely bedside manner, she's amazing with kids, and is well versed in various spells and elixirs for magical use. Some lore on her condition and Anphi society below the cut!

She's known as an oracle, where an Anphi is born with far more eyes than they should have, most often in a halo on the face but it can be a semi-coverage to complete body affliction, she's a semi-covered variation. Oracle Anphi cannot stand on two legs, as they're born quadrupedal and will never gain the ability to stand bipedally for long moments due to their skeletal structure. Because of this, she also cannot fly or glide, so if she falls off a cavern edge she will most certainly die. Alongside this, an oracle's neck is longer than the average Anphian's, which can cause back problems if they don't care for themselves properly with the right bedding or too much flexing of the spine. Partial to full blindness is extremely common for oracles, as well as semi to full body paralysis due to neck injuries. Roa has managed to avoid these but raising two nests of whelps proved difficult when so many little tails and hands often poked into her sensitive eyes.

She was born into what's called the Strike Generation, these whelps came about during a time of great crisis amongst their people when sickness spread rampantly, the pools had been poisoned by changes in the ocean, and famine plagued them. 90% of whelps born in this period were born with mutations and stunted limbs. Anphi society changed drastically due to this, and now atypical and disabled Anphi are treated and cared for as though they are normal socially, though accommodated based on their bodies so they can live an effectively normal life.

Atypical Anphians can produce whole litters of common offspring, and even a pair of them can produce common as well, such as Roa and her husband Howler, Salem's parents. Mutations and odd limbs are genetic, but most often these genes are are triggered by highly unfavorable conditions during the carrying process, starvation, sickness, and very poor water conditions often being the most common causes.

#trollhunters #toa trollhunters #tales of arcadia #my art #salem #roa #troll oc #troll: salem #amphibian troll #Anphi troll #original species #oc #troll species #species lore

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tadpolejourney · 26 days

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Days 11-12

I was so sick last night, I couldn't write. I'll have to put my work on Act V aside to catch up on yesterday and today.

Yesterday was such a crazy ass fucking day. I must emphasize that I have been having some very strange and crazy days lately, and this was the most insane day yet.

Let's start with first thing yesterday morning. I can't say I didn't see this coming with all the flirting we've been doing. Astarion propositioned me for sex. He's not at all interested in a real relationship. I reminded him our relationship isn't transactional and he didn't need to repay the favor of my blood for sex. He talked about how I 'obviously' wanted him because I was quivering when he bit me. More like he's been the obvious one, and I shook because it hurt like hell and it was taking everything I had not to cry out, but I let him protect his ego to cushion the rejection. When I turned him down, he told me I was no fun, but he doesn't seem to have any hard feelings about it. I can't just have sex with whoever, whenever. I've never had the luxury of being able to just 'let go' and have sex only for the fun of it with anyone who I felt attracted to. That has always felt unsafe to me, and probably always will. Truthfully, if I could I would have said yes to him. I had no other reason to say no.

We got Karlach an engine upgrade today. I'm glad we met the blacksmith Dammon and he's able and willing to help. Also, those two have some real chemistry. I wonder if either or both of them realize it.

Gale needed another magical item today. This time he said it wasn't working to quell his hunger like before. He seemed frightened.

We made it to the goblin camp. I really try not to be racist but goblins are fucking stupid, disgusting, and barbaric.

It looks like the mother owlbear in the cave didn't make it. I found her cub taken captive at the camp and bargained with a goblin woman to set him free. I hope he can find our camp.

Volothamp Geddarm, of all people, was imprisoned by a goblin woman who called him her 'pigeon'. I watched him floundering to come up with a verse in front of an audience of drunk goblins. I spoke with him in camp tonight, and he had 0 interesting things to say and kept constantly talking over me. A classic mansplainer. Never meet your heroes. Not that he is really my hero. His music really isn't my style, and I don't tend to read fairy tales either. He's more like someone I'm obligated to know about in my profession. Still, color me unimpressed.

We found Halsin at the goblin camp, alive and imprisoned. We helped free him and kill his captors. He knew immediately that I was infected, and that my infection was atypical. He's just as good of a healer as the druids claimed. But he can't cure us either. He does, however, know where to find our cure. Moonrise Towers. He asked us to kill the leaders of the goblin camp to protect his grove. Of course we're doing it. Also, why does every ally I make have to be so hot? IT'S VERY DISTRACTING. If I could find allies that are just average looking or even ugly, or like geriatric, or married, that would be fantastic. I hope Halsin is married. Or who knows, maybe we'll hit it off and I can forget about the dude I really like who I've definitely been hitting on that just fucking ignores me anyway.

Shadowheart has been carrying around a strange artifact this whole time. True to form she was very rude when I asked about it a tenday ago, so I ignored it. Until today. It made its way to me somehow while we were in the goblin camp. I finally heard the voice of this Absolute. It showed me a vision of its chosen, said I should aid in their search for a weapon. The power it wields to make us obey is unlike anything I've ever felt or experienced. The artifact protected us somehow.

I met the three leaders of the goblin camp. These 'True Soul' leaders all had parasites. They think I'm their ally because I'm infected. Minthara referred to me as 'grotesque'. She seems highly intelligent and tough as nails. Priestess Gut is a sadist branding everyone she can get her hands on, but not nearly as powerful as she claims to be. Dror Ragzlin is ambitious, and like all ambitious people, his ambition makes him a narrow-minded moron.

So that was yesterday up until being very sick last night in camp. Late last night Lae'zel snuck up behind me while I was sitting on the ground and put a dagger to my throat. She thought we were transforming, and she was ready to kill me, the others, and then herself. I felt her fear and her doubt, and it didn't take much to convince her to stand down. I wasn't positive we weren't transforming, but I also wasn't ready to die or let anyone else be killed over an assumption. We went to sleep after that.

According to a being that came to me in my dreams, I was sick last night because I really was transforming into a mindflayer. Lae'zel was right, but luckily she didn't kill me or anyone else. This guardian guy, a big, strange-looking, half elf male in fancy armor, says he made me better. Told me I needed to wield the power the parasite has granted me, that I had potential and could 'save us all'. Claimed to be my protector, and that he was fighting 'the enemy'. So purposely vague. Another day, another sales pitch. I don't know if I buy it. Perhaps some of it is true. I remain extremely skeptical.

Gale spoke to me this morning about the visitor in his dream, a supposed 'vision of unparalleled beauty and power'. I am truly annoyed that I felt so jealous upon hearing him say so. He confirmed what I'd suspected about mine. It wasn't a real person.

Everyone had the same dream, with a different guardian. Just when I thought shit could not get any weirder.

Today we attacked the goblin camp.

We went after Minthara first, as she is clearly the most dangerous and capable of the three. She was also closest to where Halsin was imprisoned and there was a scrying eye that would have made subterfuge impossible. When I struck what I'm sure everyone thought was the final blow I deliberately knocked her unconscious rather than killing her. I spared her without telling anyone. I thought about how if I did not have this weird entity or that weird box protecting me from the Absolute, I could be just like she is. I could not bring myself to kill her. I made an emotional decision, and I could definitely come to regret it later. Halsin could hate me for what I did. Minthara would likely kill me for what I did. She is Lolth-sworn drow. This would be utterly humiliating for her if she knew. Maybe she won't know though. The others didn't realize what I'd done. We stripped her while she was unconscious like we would have a corpse. I had a parasite in my bag that I nicked off Nettie's table when no one was looking, and I said it came from Minthara. Maybe her being alive can just be a 'miraculous survival'. I'm hoping the Absolute lost its influence there because of all the followers we murdered, and she can get a chance to be free. And this is yet another reason why I feel like I did something truly dumb: I'm not even sure that's how this works. I could have just condemned her to be a mindflayer and doomed many, or failed to make any change at all to her situation (which means she most certainly could get killed outright for her failure as a leader). I can only really hope for the best and live with the consequences of what I've done, whatever they may be.

I'm getting really tired of having to make all these crucial decisions that not only direct my fate, but also the fates of so many others.

When we pulled the tadpoles from Priestess Gut and Dror Ragzlin, the guardian spoke to me in my mind, encouraged me to absorb their potential. I hesitated, but he promised to protect me, so I consumed it. I don't even know where to start in describing the feeling. To put it simply: weird, cold, uncomfortable, but also good. I feel more powerful, and I'm still myself.

Astarion immediately wanted one for himself, put on a cute pouty face and everything. He's so funny. He could have just asked without the theatrics. However, of course I love the theatrics. We made a deal not long after we met that for any locks he picks on chests he can claim the contents for himself. Anything he keeps or gives away is fully at his discretion, and no one gets a say in that. I give him all the tools and kits to pick locks and disarm traps, and he takes care of that for us. That was the deal. When it comes to picking locks and spotting and disarming traps, he's the best I've ever seen. He makes it look easy. Anyway, I'm bringing this up because I noticed the last few chests he's picked locks to open, he's asked the rest of us if we can make use of some of the things he finds. Today he opened a chest with infernal iron and willingly handed it to Karlach. He could have easily stashed it away and not a one of us would have been the wiser. That metal is worth a lot of coin. He's actually becoming a team player. I'm honestly impressed, he continues to surprise me. I thought at first he would be our biggest liability, but the opposite is true. He's proven himself to be our biggest asset. Naturally, I won't tell him that.

We found the way into the heart of the Selûnite temple the goblins were using for their camp. There's a ladder leading down into a chasm, and it's impossible to see the bottom. It's safe to say we found one way into the Underdark. I think I want to keep looking, because that ladder looks so fucking shady. Could just be my thing with heights though. I fucking hate heights.

Halsin suggested we celebrate tonight, rather than get an early start tomorrow. He reassured me our infection would be unlikely to progress spontaneously. He also doesn't know all of us nearly turned just last night. I hope he's right. I thought it could be really fun to let loose a little, and celebrate what turned out to be quite a victory. Saved the grove, saved the tieflings, freed Halsin, dispersed the Absolutists from this region, AND found another potential path for our cure.

When the party began, I wanted to talk to Gale right away if I'm being honest. But I thought, “Let's make him wait until I've spoken with literally everyone else but him. Let's see if he even notices, approaches me, or says anything about it at all when I speak to him”. Decided to test him. So I've barreled right past coping with his constant subtle rejection of me to being conniving to force him to actually reject me directly. You will never hear me proclaim to be mature or graceful, especially in matters of the heart. If he paid any attention at all, he got to watch nearly every single person I talked to either flirt with me or proposition me. I honestly lost count of how many people propositioned me... someone must have put something in the damn wine. I think Halsin and I were the only people not drinking it. I took a swig of Astarion's and spit it out immediately because it was so gross. Anyway... I made Gale think I was coming towards him halfway through making my way around the party, only to let Volo take me by the arm and whisk me right past him. I caught his eye and sent him the sultriest look I could manage without it being campy. Then I made an ass of myself flirting with Halsin. I don't know if Gale even noticed any of it. He probably didn't. The stupid shit I have pulled to try to get this man to acknowledge me...

When I spoke to him, he finally, finally, fucking finally opened up to me some. He talked about how he'd been living with his condition. Until he was kidnapped, he'd been in isolation for a year, maybe more. I was the first person he'd spent any significant amount of time with. He made some self-deprecating remark about leaving his wits and sensitivity behind in his tower. It took every bit of self-control I had not to just pounce on him. Instead I blurted out an 'I like you' sort of confession. But you know, snazzier than that in the moment because hi, it's me. Gave up on the whole 'done being obvious' thing once again and went right back to being obvious.

He paused before saying, 'Wait, are you...' and then he interrupted himself. Said something about how he'd clearly had too much wine and I not enough... and then proceeded to tell me that getting excited is a bad idea for him because of his condition. 'A conversation best held back for now.'

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHGH.

Boy I will prepare a fucking dragon's hoard of magical items for you to consume continuously while we lie together if that's what it takes. I am so frustrated. I want to have this explained to me in a way that actually makes sense. He's fucking hiding something. Something huge. And until now, I was too much of a lovesick puppy to see it. I had to have it thrown in my face for me to notice.

I'm starting to feel like I'm being played. I'm pissed.

So naturally I spend the night with someone else I like. Karlach. And then I friend-zoned her. I said yes to her earlier tonight because I knew what she wanted, and I knew what I was going to do. Worse yet, she wasn't the only person I strung along last night. And why would I do that to someone who would hang the moon for me, who has only ever been kind to me, who is probably the coolest person I've ever met and will ever meet? After all, aren't I the hero goody-two-shoes people pleasing sweet lovely little doll-faced creature everyone thinks I am? I'll tell you exactly why. Because deep down, I'm a fucking asshole, and now I'm getting exactly what I deserve for it. I feel like absolute shit about tonight, and I will for a long time. Probably forever. My guilt and shame are endless.

These are the exact reasons why I always end up alone.

I know I've been emotionally circling the drain for an entire page of writing now. I need to go to bed.

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#baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate oc #baldur's gate tav #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 tav #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate tav #bg3 spoilers #bg3 gale #bg3 astarion #bg3 karlach #bg3 halsin #tav #baldurs gate #bg3 minthara #bg3 lae'zel #bg3 shadowheart

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