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queerbauten · 1 year

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Nick Cave willingly and gladly going to the Coronation is cringe. That is my official stance on the matter.

#cringe culture is dead except for when it comes to Nick’s Englightened Centrists views #in which case it could not be more alive #not tagging this post; blacklist the body words accordingly

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thschei · 2 months

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Also before I rest, hewwo to anyone looking at my blog or following me bc of that post about eot, some things to know about me:

I have a stupid sickly victorian child body that frequently doesn't make any sense and a literal laundry list of allergies, and my mom works in healthcare (specifically hospice), so medical talk & terminal conditions/death come up pretty often

I luv bugs, in particular spiders; I tag all posts that include pictures of bugs but like depending on your fear of bugs this might not be the blog for you

I was raised as a dumb fucking californian and I use the word "like" as punctuation and this will never change <3

I <3 dark shit, toxic ships, and fiction featuring gore and cannibalism

I am also an unrepentant weeb that loves a weird niche JPN band that tells stories that are frequently Very dark

Re: the last 2 points, I try to tag anything that could be upsetting or triggering, but I sometimes forget, so you can ask me to tag anything at any time

I have the tism and my hyperfixations come & go in ways even I can't predict, so 👍🏻 I'm sorry if I sometimes I suddenly have 10+ posts about things you don't care about 👍🏻 like a weird niche storytelling band 👍🏻

And this is for my followers in general:

I, might start posting about a war among the stars... And specifically like

And even

(the google results were fanart so I didn't want to repost those via screenshot)

Some of the fanart of which may veer into noncon territory, which I will tag accordingly (or decide to not even reblog depending on the piece) but like I understand if anyone would rather blacklist the series/ship tags I'll use (s/w, o/bi/kin, v/aderw/an, respectively & without the slashes) or unfollow, & wanted to give a heads up about it before I just go to town

#text #erin talks #it's embawwassing but I thought this was a good opportunity to bring it up #watching the scene where O cuts off A's arm & leaves him to be burned alive by lava & can't bring himself to mercy kill him:#wow this is like genuinely horrific to watch (a few days later) well it is compelling tho #watching that fight scene where half of the helmet breaks off & O sobs while apologizing to A for everything #& the A's voice cuts in & out of the modulator while he tries to (albeit sadistically) absolve O of guilt before #continuing as V: wow um I think something awoke in me and it kinda lines up with some other things as a pattern #also the scene where V drags O through fire was hot . who am I to diss a bee?#I read a really good v/o fic but it was like . you know? so I don't want to link it & get . you know?#(avoided naming series or characters/ship directly bc I don't want this to show up in search results #bc new fandom to me therefore newvous . also don't have to invite harassment lol)#anyway horizontal time

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courageleft · 2 years

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# BASICS

this blog will contain triggering content, mostly violence, mentions of gore, body horror and injustice. other triggers might be mentioned; everything will be tagged accordingly with "tw: word", so please either blacklist that tag or simply do not follow me if you're sensitive to such things. your mental health comes before a hobby such as writing.

essential roleplaying etiquette is expected; do not godmod, do not force things down my throat and tag and cut your posts as you can. i will do the same thing; let's keep things mutually respectful, yeah?

I DO NOT SUPPORT CALLOUT CULTURE. it started as a good idea giving psa's to warn people of dangerous people but it's become nothing more than a petty salt fest and i'm honestly too old and too tired to deal with that. if you support callout culture DO NOT FOLLOW ME or i will softblock you.

nsfw content will be present on this blog, mostly mentions of murder, violence and gore but content of sexual nature might also be present. i will try my best to tag everything and put it under a read more but i can't promise i'll always be able to do so. i ask that you do the same, or at least try to.mutuals, shipping & writingI LOVE SHIPPING, but it is not a priority for me. kazimir is an incredibly complicated muse to ship with and i'm not going to lie, i don't think he's all that interested in relationships anyways. you can approach me though, i'm sure with a bit of plotting or pre-establishing anything is possible.

i might be selective with whom i follow and i will prefer to write with mutuals only but i have no problems writing with non-mutuals. just approach me and we can talk stuff out!

i tend to prefer to wing things but i am also willing to plot. the best way to interact with me is either sending me a dm to plot or to just randomly chuck an ask meme in my inbox. if you'd like to plot, though, feel free to ask for my discord.

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boop-le-snoot · 2 years

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⚡ Welcome to Bun's Cockstop! This is a place where I thirst over cute dirty old men! Most of my works can also be found on AO3 (here). This is my taglist!

⚡ My name is Bun/Bunny. I am a slavic/baltic afab agender queer gremlin and I go by any pronouns, however most of my writing caters to people who use she/her pronouns and possess afab body parts. I do take requests for nb/male reader stories & I have no problems with using neopronouns as well.

⚡ I do not write RPF (real person fiction). That said, any kind of drama mongering, moral policing and other purity culture bullshit is not welcome on my blog. At best, I will block you; if you annoy me enough, I just might be inclined to prove your opinion wrong (with citations).

⚡ I am pro-ship, pro-dark!fic, I think sex work is work, I don't support communism (and Russia! seriously, GTFO), I believe Johnny Depp and I support the death penalty for crimes against children. If you find yourself wanting to argue w/me about these topics, don't waste our time and block me.

⚡ I communicate in English and Russian and understand several more assorted languages. Don't be shy and say hello 😌 This is my Spotify, and this is what I look like! <3

⚡ My blog is meant for an adult audience. It will contain topics such as sex and various kinks, drugs, trauma, queer stuff and lots of rock-'n'-roll. All the things I post are tagged accordingly, therefore it is your responsibility to block the tags/blacklist the content you do not wish to see. You choose the content you consume & I am not here to babysit.

⚡ this is a post of marvel author recommendations, tony-stephen-bruce heavy

🌻 DONATE DIRECTLY TO UKRAINIAN PEOPLE IN NEED! EVEN $8 CAN HELP! Click this link - it's a charity set up by the Ukrainias themselves & it offers direct donations with maximum transparency.

⚡ masterlist below spoiler ⚡ stories marked with an asterisk* contain adult content ⚡

⚡ multichapter fics ⚡

party favours | tony stark x bruce banner x stephen strange x reader ot4) | explicit | ~120k words | completed

practical alchemy | witch!reader x established!ironstrange | explicit | in progress (hiatus until spring)

⚡one-shots⚡

helmut zemo | marmalade taffy* |

sam wilson | bad touch* | violent delights* (content warning) |

loki | if life gives you melons* | bondage* (nb reader, they/them) | snow day* (male reader) |

natasha romanoff | hot wheels* |

wanda maximoff | caught |

bucky barnes | bother figure (daughter!reader) |

thor | idunn's apples | hired man* (dubcon) | beloved, bejeweled |

otto octavius / doc ock | horny headcanons* | i want to kill you like they do in the movies - part 1 - part 2* - part 3* (fin) |

steve rogers | it drives me wild* |

⚡ blurb series ⚡

daddy!ironstrange - daddy lessons* | part one | part two |

#marvel fanfiction #marvel masterlist #mcu masterlist #mcu fanfiction #tony stark x reader #stephen strange x reader #otto octavius x reader #bruce banner x reader #sam wilson x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #helmut zemo x reader #loki x reader #thor x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bun writes

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neversleepagainau · 3 years

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please do not repost my art.

~~~

at long last, im so excited to announce that this ask blog is officially open! many people know I’ve been working on this intro for roughly five weeks, and I’m very excited to finally share it- possibly as excited as I am to FINALLY begin telling this story!!!

first of all, tumblr completely ruined the quality of that last panel- if you wanna see the full sized gif (warning you now, it’s enormous), you can find that here! And, if the gif is hard to read/hard to view, there’s a static version of this panel below the cut!

There’s also a ton of extra information that could answer some questions you might have, as well as a list of potential triggers to watch out for in the future! However, it is really long, and when I say really long, I mean it’s chapter-in-a-book-long so please don’t feel obligated to read it unless you have extra questions/have some bad triggers you wanna make sure to avoid.

Otherwise though, I can’t wait to see what kind of questions you guys send these two! One has to wonder… where in the world are they headed off to in the dead of night…

First of all, here’s the static image of Panel 8, as promised!

And now for some extra info on things going forward.

On every single canon update, there will be a description of themes in this story that could unsettle or discomfort some viewers. I’ve included tags to blacklist, and explained exactly how these situations might arise so folks who are sensitive to this kind of thing can prepare themselves accordingly!

I would recommend at least skimming this list if you know you have some bad triggers! This story will never get too dark or intense, as I’m attempting to stay true to the original spirit of MSA, but this doesn’t mean it won’t touch on those themes at all.

also, in regards to how much of this art is hand drawn by me- the honest truth is 99% of this is entirely freehanded. I took colors from the videos, but otherwise only used them as reference. However, if I ever used a canon asset to help me, I will always specifically say what exactly was borrowed directly from canon in a way that was more than just using images as reference and taking colors. for this post specifically, I’ll word it a little differently, but this will all be much tidier in the future.

the van asset is 97% freehanded by myself- I did take measurements of the canon asset, and marked my canvas so I’d know the width and height of the van, and vaguely marked where the tires would be.  I did trace the antennae ontop, as well as the cloud decals, one of the curves on the right side of the windshield, part of the door window at the very bottom lefthand corner, and the rear view mirror. The logo was not recreated, I directly took that and just altered the colors to fit the van. Other than that, everything you see on that van was freehanded. The van was also the only thing I used a canon asset to help me with for creation of it, meaning that the rest of the art in this introduction is entirely freehand.

moving on from that- updates will not take an entire month like this did. i will not be doing eight full color illustrations for every single update, and for right now, at the minimum, they’ll happen weekly! i can provide more information going forward once I work out how I’m going to go about things a little better, since things won’t be as huge as this introduction was. don’t worry though, the quality of the art itself will stay the same throughout the whole story!

and yes, lewis and vivi are in this too! there’s a big cast of characters, and lew and viv are just as much at the center of this story as arthur and mystery are- don’t worry, you’ll see them plenty soon enough!

finally, before we get to the content warning stuff, if you ever have any questions about how I’m running things, or need clarification on anything, please let me know! I’m happy to explain things in more depth if needed!!! and now, here’s the last chunk of this INCREDIBLY long introduction. ~~~ WHAT FOLLOWS IS A VERY LONG (!!!), IN DEPTH LIST OF THINGS VIEWERS MIGHT ENCOUNTER IN THIS STORY THAT COULD TRIGGER THEM. If you are not super sensitive or have very intense triggers, you don’t really need to read what follows unless you want to. Otherwise, I would at least skim this, so you know what tags to block so you won’t have to see this type of content.

Don’t let any of this worry you too much, by the way! This story is very likely not ever going to get extreme in any manner, I just like to be very cautious, just in case!

Also keep in mind that you can always ask me to add tags to a post, and it’s highly unlikely I will refuse said request. If I do, it will be for a very good reason, and I’ll explain it thoroughly, as well as remain open to any discussion about it. With that in mind, here are things to be aware of:

CHARACTER DEATH/REMOVAL FROM STORY: There may be characters in this story that you will get attached to that end up dying or not being in the story at all or as much as they were before. This story has chances for different outcomes depending on asks, but there are some things I have set in stone and a few of them involve these themes, so please be mindful of that. The tags to blacklist to avoid updates that touch on this specifically are #character death or #character removal.

DISTURBING CONTENT: This is vaguely worded because it is a bit of broad umbrella. There may be themes of body horror, gore, violent/upsetting/disturbing depictions of death (not any worse than Lew’s death, if it ever is I’ll be sure to specify ahead of time), creepy/unsettling designs and environments, so on and so forth. The tag to blacklist to avoid updates that include anything I consider to be disturbing to view is #disturbing content.

ANGST: This story will get sad, and broach on themes of abandonment, loss, trauma, depression, paranoia, self-hate, and things in this nature. What I can immediately promise is this story will NEVER have themes of suicide or self-harm. I do not feel this story needs to go there, nor do I wish to take it there. Also, while there is angst, I do not believe in beating characters up mercilessly- the angst is for the story and their development. This is not going to be a story that is only angsty. However, if any sort of angst upsets you, the tag to blacklist to avoid updates that include heavier, angstier themes is #angst.

PARANOIA: A few of the characters often get a sense of being hunted or followed, or something lurking around the corner, which can be upsetting to some viewers. A few characters may occasionally have moments where they express their anxieties in depth. The tag to blacklist to avoid updates that include heavy mentions of paranoia/depictions of it/make the characters (and potentially audience) feel paranoid is #paranoia.

UNREALITY: Lewis has some powers that can warp space and create illusions, and potentially will be in situations where he uses them in ways that could mess with people’s perception of reality. This can be very uncomfortable for some people to view, so in updates where this may happen, the tag to blacklist is #unreality.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES: This story will NEVER be explicitly NSFW, and will rarely ever feature these themes at all. It is mainly for the occasional joke here and there, but absolutely nothing more. However, if any implications of something slightly more adult make you uncomfortable, the tag to blacklist here is #suggestive themes.

ANIMAL HARM: Mystery may enter situations where he ends up getting hurt during this story, though he will never endure any kind of situations that mimic real life animal abuse. If seeing an animal be harmed in any way remotely upsets you, the tag here to blacklist is #animal harm.

~~~

If you made it all the way to the bottom, you’re a champ!!! While posts will definitely not be this long going forward, I really appreciate you taking the time to read this!

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oops-prow-did-it-again · 3 years

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Hmm. Thinking I might need to start posting more. I’ve been trying, but something seems to hold me back. Therapist says I should stop letting that happen. That feeling of “I can’t do it but nothing is stopping me” may likely be mild depression seeping through.

So we’ll see if we can change that. I’ll start tagging stuff like this as personal and journal or something like that. See the tags and blacklist accordingly if these aren’t your style, since I know I usually reblog memes, trans discussions, and pokemon stuff lol.

Anyway,

Journal #1

Prev | Next

Went to the psychologist (...psychiatrist? i get those words continually confused) today. Got my psychological evaluation completed and we went over that. Combined (but predominately impulsive) type ADHD, severe generalized anxiety disorder, and mild depression. Well, we been done knew all that, but at least now I have paperwork to back it up. Had to set up an appt with the doctor to see if I can get started on ADHD medication since we believe that is the root cause of 90% of my problems. I also mentioned how I often take hours to get out of bed in the morning. He suggested I put my alarm clock/phone somewhere I can’t reach from the bed and to only go to the bed to sleep. He said that staying in bed more than I need to may be worsening my chronic back pain and it feeds depressive feelings. I agreed and decided I’d do that.

Went to work after that. D**rD*sh. Did that for 7-ish hours. My goal nowadays is to make at least $114 a day. This lets me send 10% to my savings account for safekeeping, allows me to pay the $1.99 cost for instant transferring to my bank account at the end of the day, and lets me have $100 in my checking account. I generally work Tuesday-Wednesday, and Friday-Saturday, only doing a couple hours on Thursday (I get extremely stressed and upset if I try to pull 5 full 7+ hour shifts in a row...).

This is still only about $450/wk in my checking account, though. Which isn’t enough for any real semblance of dependence. Minimum wage in my state is steadily rising, slated to go to $11/hr by Jan 2022, though. I overheard a woman at a pizza shop panicking about a lack of drivers. I think I am going to talk to her tomorrow morning to see if she needs a new driver. I’m hoping the fact I can’t stay on my feet too much doesn’t bother her. I hope she’s too desperate for drivers to care. Although I like the freedom D*shing brings, I know that $9.50/hr + tips at an actual restaurant will always beat whatever I was making with D**rD*sh provided I get enough hours. And if I don’t, I can always D*sh some more to make it up.

I want to try to make enough to have an apartment of my own at some point. That’s really all I want. If I get this job and make enough, I may be willing to tough out putting up with more hours, if it’ll net me an apartment. I’d only have to put myself through that for a couple years until I can move in with the boyfriend.

Anyway, I finished work after making $113 and deciding a dollar wasn’t worth going on another delivery at 9pm. I went to the store and got a few things. Medicine, for insomnia and acne issues, other stuff, some food. Spent $55. Was a little miffed at that. Oh well, it was stuff I’d needed for a while.

Came home and now... here I am. I’m going to start really focusing on a diet plan after Sunday as well. Doctors believe a lot of my stress and depression may also be related to my body weight. It is also probably not helping my chronic back pain.

I have plans to have breakfast with mother Sunday as well as dinner with the boyfriend so it would be kinda dumb to try to start it before then since it’s incredibly hard to stay under a reasonable calorie limit when eating out with people.

I wanted to write more for my next chapter of Pokemon Retold: Red, as that chapter is complete but is just in the editing stage, but it’s now 10:43pm and I want to watch some Dragon Ball Z with my boyfriend (we’ve been trying to watch through the series. We’re on episode 50). I had an idea for an original story but haven’t even been able to start planning it. I did write down the general idea so I wouldn’t forget it, though. I also started thinking about writing a oneshot for Hidden Grottos involving Rosa and Hil. I want to show how complex Rosa can be and explore Hil’s relationship with N and Reshiram and Zekrom more.

I think that about covers it.... until the next time, on Dragon Ball Z... lol.

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chandrilanheir · 4 years

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RULES. ( under co. ).

1. Mutuals only. Non-mutuals who try to contact ( as in liking my starter calls or sending me things in my inbox ) will be given a warning but then will be BLOCKED if this happens a second time. No questions asked. 2. Private and Selective. I choose who I want to interact with and please don’t rush me for replies. Following me, then unfollowing, and then refollowing me back is a sure way to make me BLOCK you. No questions asked. 3. Reblog from the source when possible. I am not a meme source. Anyone who doesn’t do this and doesn’t give me an ask, will be given a warning but then will be BLOCKED if this happens a second time. No questions asked. I also put a tag on my inbox things stating this so if you don’t remember this rule, I will have it tagged as well for you. 4. Triggers / Must tag these for me: ORGANS, CHAIN LETTERS, BIRDS, and DOGS. Anyone who doesn’t do this will be given a warning and but then will be BLOCKED if this happens a second time. No questions asked. 5. All common triggers will be tagged. If you need something tagged besides blood, death, gore, insects, spiders, body horror, eye horror and suicide; please let me know. 6. Personals / and Non-RP blogs will be BLOCKED on the spot. No questions asked. Let me know beforehand if you have a sideblog. 7. I don’t want to be involved with drama and/or call outs or see that type of content on my dash. Please tag those when possible. 8. Fair warning that I do ship REYLO ( slow burn and must have chemistry) but will tag it accordingly. Please blacklist the following: ‘reylo: tw’ and ‘reylo for ts’. 9. No harassing me, my character, or anyone in general. All anon hate will be BLOCKED and REPORTED. 10. I am eighteen and over in age. Kylo / Ben is in his late twenty’s during the setting of the sequel trilogy. However, I will not be writing smut as I am not comfortable writing those things anyways because I am asexual. Suggestive things might make an appearance from time to time but the writing on here is going to be really tame on that subject matter. 11. Trim / Cut your posts. I don’t want to scroll through pages and pages of posts that are too long. Failure to do so for five times will result in you being BLOCKED. 12. If you need to break mutuals with me, please HARD BLOCK me so I don’t re-follow you back by accident. Don’t just unfollow. If you feel like unfollowing, please let me know beforehand. I promise I won’t be mad, I just want to unfollow you as well. No hard feelings. 13. I’m SERE, I work eight to nine hours a day on average, and I am really chill despite how these rules are worded. I just have been roleplaying on tumblr since 2012 and have seen some shit to warrant these rules.

#rules;;#mobile rules;;#laws;;#mobile laws;;

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feynites · 6 years

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Castlevania AU - Part Two

Yet more shenanigans with Young Tasallir. Tagging @lycheemilkart!

(Reminder to my followers on mobile to blacklist the tag ‘long post’ if you want to avoid having to scroll, since tumblr still eats ‘read mores’ on the original posts of people you follow if you’re using mobile/sidebar view.)

Tasallir’s combat instructor loathes and despises him.

It is because Tasallir is not an exemplary student in this field, or so he believes at first. He does well enough at the beginning; learning his stances and holds, adjusting his bearing, following directions and copying patterns. These are easy things for him. His frame is narrow and scrawny, but the strength in his arms is fueled by his vampiric blood. Father has many tutors come for Tasallir, after taking him out of the nursery.

Most of them are vampires. So, most come at night.

But his combat instructor is a human. A gruff man, old and grey and worn in ways that make Tasallir uneasy. When he asks Nenae, at the end of the week, they tell him the man is ‘aged’. That his mortal lifespan is drawing into its closing chapters, and that even if no one kills him, he will soon enough die from the vagaries of time itself.

To humans, unlike vampires and elves, time is like a plague.

Nenae warns that it makes them more impatient, but Tasallir does not discover the depths of this until he combat training progresses, and he begins to falter.

His instructor advances them into ‘sparring’. Trading blows. Tasallir is meant to deflect attacks, and also hit back. He is supposed to try and anticipate his opponent’s moves, read his body language, and respond accordingly. But he cannot do it. None of it seems comprehensible to him. No matter how his tutor attempts to explain, he cannot seem to perceive what he is supposed to perceive. He is not fast enough, and does not react in time.

He is struck. His feet are swept out from underneath him. The silver-bright practice staff that his teacher holds stings when it hits him, and leaves angry, red welts sometimes, but the ‘lesson’ of pain does not make understanding any more clear.

And his teacher grows annoyed.

“Half vampire,” he growls one morning, dragging Tasallir up from the dirt by his collar. “Half vampire and half what? Rabbit?”

The word makes Tasallir frown.

Nenae has told him that this term, when used towards elves, is impolite. But his instructor is frequently impolite. He would not pass any of Tasallir’s etiquette lessons - a thought he consoles himself with, even as her nurses the sting of another failure.

“You are a poor teacher,” he feels bold enough to say.

The man rounds on him, and spits upon the ground.

“And you’re a spoiled brat, and the most miserable excuse for a student I’ve ever seen,” he counters. Reaching out, he grabs one of Tasallir’s arms. The rough feel of his hand makes him flinch, grating like sandpaper against his nerves. Tasallir wrenches backwards, and uses sheer strength to break the human’s grip.

“You see?” the man says, pointing at him with the training staff. “You have strength. But nothing else. You might look like a dancer, but when it comes to the art of the sword, the best you’ll ever be is a brute.”

Tasallir balks in offense. He is twelve, now; has been out of the nursery for six years, and has learned a great deal about the world since then. About culture, and refinement, and science, and philosophy. Law and poetry and mathematics.

“I am not a brute,” he insists. “I have never even hit you. Not once.”

His instructor raises an eyebrow.

“That is not something to take pride in, boy. You’re supposed to try and hit me,” the man says, shoving his practice sword back at him. Tasallir fumbles with it, a little, and earns a sigh. When he looks up, his teacher is running a wrinkled hand down his face.

The man looks at him grimly.

“How do you even hunt…?” he wonders.

Tasallir blinks.

“What?” he asks, baffled. He has no ‘hunting’ instructor. He has read about hunting, of course. It is something done for sustenance, and for sport. But Tasallir has only even left the castle once in his life. Where would he hunt?

“Hunt, boy. You’re half vampire, aren’t you? You drink blood, don’t you?” his teacher presses.

He blinks.

“No,” Tasallir says. “I drink milk.”

His instructor stares at him until he begins to feel uncomfortable under his gaze.

“So this is why,” the human man finally mutters, at length. He sets his staff against the courtyard wall, and lets out a long breath. The light in the chamber is bright enough to simulate daylight. The tall windows look out towards a rocky beach, where gulls crack shells open against the cold, grey stone. Tasallir waits uncertainly, as his teacher stares out towards the sea.

“Sooner or later, you will need blood. You’ll need to hunt. He wants you ready, but you’ve got all the killer instinct of a china teacup.

Tasallir wavers.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

His teacher doesn’t answer, though. And after a while, he has him put back the practice sword, and leave his lessons early.

It’s unexpected. But Tasallir won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. He leaves, eagerly, and changes out of his training clothes. Putting on a high-collar tunic and some soft shoes, and settling into his room to read until dinner instead. Father gives him books, but so does Nenae; Tasallir usually understands Father’s books better, as they are generally about facts and science, chemistry and biology and architecture. Sometimes magic. But when he has free time, he likes to read his Nenae’s books, too, to try and understand.

They are fiction. Made up stories, from the world beyond the castle. Legends and myths and things that are either untrue or unproven. Tasallir had asked them why such words would hold value. He is still not certain that he understood their explanation, but he had gleaned that this was something important to them. And when Tasallir speaks to his nenae about their books, they often smile, and seem lighter. Less far away from him, in the confines of their chambers.

For that effect alone, he would read them.

He passes his extra hour muddling over his nenae’s ‘fairy tales’, which bear little resemblance to what he actually knows of the Fair Folk, until supper comes. Then his evening lessons consume him, and he mostly puts the entire matter out of his mind. Other tutors have come and gone. Perhaps he can finally stop having ‘combat lessons’, now. He does not care for them and would not miss their absence, really.

It seems his wish might be granted when he has no more such lessons for a few days. But then a week later, his instructor returns. Tasallir is woken abruptly by a rough hand on his shoulder, and a gruff face staring down at him.

“Get up,” the man says.

Tasallir checks the gilded clock in his room.

“It is too early,” he says. He has a schedule.

His instructor does not care, though. Merely barks at him like a dog, until finally Tasallir must pull himself out of bed, and dress. He puts on his practice clothes, feeling tired and cross over it. Interrupting his sleep is becoming more and more troublesome. His history teacher says it is because dhampyrs grow fast and tall and undergo many changes in their adolescence.

By the time he reaches the practice courtyard, though, he is mostly awake. His hair is bound, if not as neatly as he would prefer, and he is dressed. He has not had breakfast yet, but that probably will not bother him for a few hours still.

His footsteps waver as he arrives to find that his teacher is not waiting for him alone.

There is a girl in the practice courtyard.

She is elven. With no vampire in her, Tasallir thinks; she smells like Nenae. Warm. She’s a little younger than him, or perhaps just smaller; dressed in a pink nightgown, with muddy slippers, and ribbons in her dark hair. His instructor has her sitting on the ground, tied to one of the practice racks, and there are huge tear tracks on her cheeks.

“What is this?” Tasallir asks, utterly thrown by this development. And not a little fascinated, too. He has never met another child his age before.

His teacher gestures towards the girl.

“Kill her,” he says.

Tasallir balks.

“What?!” he replies, aghast. Kill her? He does not even know her, why would he kill her?

Raising his eyebrows, his instructor gestures towards the girl again.

“Outside of this castle, her kind are a dime a dozen. Like rabbits; long-lived but quick to breed anyway. Others use them as chattel. Your father could buy a thousand more just like her without batting an eye; indeed, I’m sure he has, over the years. And plenty others besides. Her life is essentially worthless. Take it, and I will let you conclude our lessons.”

Tasallir blinks, rapidly; astounded.

His teacher spreads his arms.

“I mean it,” the man says. “Kill this girl, and you will never have to deal with me again. I know you would like to be rid of these lessons. Now’s your chance, boy.”

The girl starts crying harder. He can smell the salt of her tears from here. Her fear, too, is a sickly scent. Bizarrely interesting, but also repellent. Tasallir gapes in utter consternation, and cannot even begin to process these instructions.

“I’m not going to kill her,” he says, as incredulous as he has ever felt.

His teacher’s expression does several odd things.

“No?” the man replies.

After a moment, he pulls a sword down from one of the display racks.

“Don’t know how?” he suggests. “I can demonstrate. And then we’ll get another for you to do.”

Tasallir takes a step forward, alarmed.

“No!” he insists. His heart speeds up. What is going on? Is the man insane? He must be. Father has hired him a lunatic for a tutor. It would not be the first time, but Tasallir has never seen it take so long to demonstrate itself before.

This is worse than when one of his former science teachers attempted to get him to vivisect a mouse.

“Tasallir,” his teacher says, sharply. His gaze is hard. “Think carefully. This girl is of no consequence. Now that she has been here, she will die, whether on your sword or your father’s fangs. There is nothing to be gained by mercy. The only benefit is to you, if you strike.”

“I’m not going to murder someone!” Tasallir protests. “Do you realize what you are saying?”

His teacher laughs. It sounds wrong.

“Do you?!” the man counters. He turns away from the girl, and gestures at him with his sword. “You’re half-vampire, boy! A dhampyr! A damn blood-sucker! The rabbit that birthed you is little more than a pet to the greatest predator who has ever lived, and his blood runs through your veins. Your father kills more easily than he breathes, boy. That’s what a vampire is. Death incarnate.”

Tasallir takes several hurried steps back, as his teacher rounds on him. The sword comes level with his throat.

“But you,” he says. “You. How can a soft rabbit heart beat in that chest of yours? Where’s the wolf!?”

His heart, whatever it might be called, beats swiftly as he is cornered. Real fear grips him, deeper than even the shock and confusion.

“I don’t understand what you are saying,” he tells his teacher, for what feels like the thousandth time.

It is the wrong thing to say. The man’s expression twists, and in a swift move, he smacks the flat of the sword against Tasallir’s face. The metal stings. The girl cries out in alarm, as if she thinks he has been stabbed; but it would take more than a basic sword to cut him, really. Especially in the hands of a human. His teacher hits him again. It hurts, even if he doesn’t bleed. He raises his hands.

“Stop!” he protests.

“Where is it?!” his maddened instructor presses. “Where is the wolf? Where are your fangs? Son of Ravasan!” He hits, again and again, until Tasallir is crying and shielding himself. Pressed into the corner while the sword whips through the air, and even the cutting edge scrapes him a few times. “Son of a rabbit! What a waste, what a waste!”

“Stop it!” Tasallir cries, and finally reaches up, and grabs the sword with his hand.

The metal bites and scratches at the skin of his palm, but his grip is strong enough to keep his teacher from yanking it back again. The man staggers away in disgust, and draws a knife from his belt.

“If logic won’t work, let’s see what a little blood can do,” he says.

Tasallir watches in horror as he walks towards the girl.

He can’t really mean to…?

Oh no.

His blood goes cold, as his teacher moves to grab her. Tasallir shoots up to his feet, heart pounding, and for a moment all he can think to do is stop it. This is all wrong, this is madness, he can’t kill a person! That’s murder! Tasallir has read books of laws and tales of history, he knows his father is a vampire and that vampires kill, but that thought seems abstract and very far away from the reality of a little elven girl and the knife in his teacher’s hand.

He reaches his own palm outwards, even though he is still several feet away.

“Stop!” he commands.

The word lashes out the way no weapon in his hands ever could. For a moment Tasallir almost thinks he can see it. Like a silvery noose that ties itself around his teacher’s limbs, and abruptly halts him. But only for a moment. When he blinks, the air is empty. And his instructor is standing stock still, immobile.

Except for his eyes. His eyes have turned towards Tasallir; wide in shock.

For several breaths, there is nothing but stunned silence all around. Then the captive girl lets out a shaky breath, fraught with tears and the fear still clinging to her.

“Are you… are you doing that?” she asks.

“Boy,” his teacher grits out, in a tone of voice that promises punishment.

Tasallir moves quickly. Leaving him where he is, not at all sure what he did or how long it will work for, as he hastily unties the girl. He’s not expecting her to throw her arms around him. It is an unpleasant surprise, she is wet from tears and rumpled and muddied, and smells like sour sweat. Tasallir carefully pries her back off, trying not to grimace as she clutches his hand instead, but he pushes past the physical discomfort as she looks at him with wide eyes.

She doesn’t say anything until Tasallir has hurried her out of the training courtyard, though. Then she starts crying again.

“I don’t understand what’s going on,” she says. “What is this place? Do you know where my family is?”

“This is Ravasan’s Castle,” Tasallir tells her. “Where did you come from?”

The girl sniffles.

“Montsimmard,” she says. “My mothers work for Lady Julianne. I was sleeping, in my bedroom with my sister, and I heard a noise. And then the next thing I knew there was that man, and I was here, and he wouldn’t talk to me. He put a cloth in my mouth to keep me quiet, until he took me to that room…”

“Was anyone else with you?” Tasallir wonders. “Did he take your sister too?”

“I don’t know,” the girl says. “I was alone when I woke up.”

They run, Tasallir unconsciously leading them towards his room, before he hesitates. That is probably where his teacher will go to look for him. It is where most do, because it is where he is easily found. But if what that man said was true, then Father might want to kill the little girl, too. Tasallir would not be shocked by such a thing, little though he cares to think of it.

He does not know what to do. The castle is no place for the girl. The feel of her hand in his is making him agitated, too, feeling cramped and trapped and itching at the back of his teeth. As he hesitates, though, the girl finally lets him go. She pauses to catch her breath.

Elves are weak, Tasallir remembers. They cannot run as fast or hit as hard or do as many things. His Nenae cannot, and so, probably, neither can the girl.

He hopes he will not have to pick her up and carry her.

But he thinks he knows how to, at least. He has seen his father do it, of course. Hands beneath the knees and shoulders, walk steady, go silent. The thought reminds him of his Nenae, and Tasallir makes a decision.

“This way,” he says, once the girls’ breathing is not so bad. He leads her quickly down a different corridor; veering away from his rooms and instead following the path the leads to his nenae’s. When he was younger, the path would never bring him to their door unless it was the end of the week. But then for years, he did not even attempt to approach his nenae’s chambers unscheduled. When he was ten, he finally tried again, and discovered that the safeguards that had once deterred him were no longer in place. Father no longer expected disobedience; so he had simply let them fall away without renewal.

Tasallir had not known what to do with the information. He had stood outside of his nenae’s door for an hour, fearful that pressing forward might still make him unwelcome, somehow. That it would lead to the whole thing being discovered, and revoked. And so for the past few years, he has only used the knowledge sometimes; when he is frightened or lonely, when he wishes for the safety of the nursery again, he will go and sit outside his nenae’s door.

It never opens, so that is not a fear. His nenae is still confined in their rooms.

But this time, he can only hesitate for a moment before he knocks on the door.

“Tasallir…?” his nenae calls. “What…?”

He opens the door at their answer, relieved that it is swift - it would be too impolite to open it otherwise - and hurries himself and the girl inside.

Nenae stares at them in shock. They look as though they have just stood up from their writing desk. Their hair is loose, and they are wearing a soft day robe, with orange flowers on it. There are dark circles under their eyes, and no powder on their face. Tasallir closes the door shut firmly behind them, and turns the lock.

“What on earth is going on?” Nenae asks.

“I am sorry for the intrusion,” he says, and bows politely to them. “I believe my combat instructor has gone insane. He kidnapped this girl and told me to kill her. I stopped him, somehow, and we ran away. I didn’t know where else to take her, Nenae. She’s an elf, like you.”

The girl glances at him uncomfortably for a moment. She stares at his eyes, before she ducks her head, and seems to come back to her senses a little.

“Je vous demande pardon, ser,” she says to Nenae, with appreciable manners. “I hate to intrude.”

Nenae stares at them for a moment. Then they shake their head a little, and breathe in sharply. Lifting a hand, they push back a few strands of their hair, and swipe self-consciously at their cheeks.

“No. No, of course, you did the right thing coming here,” they say, reaching over and resting a hand on the girl’s head. “Poor child. Tasallir, take her into the solar, straight away. Just give me one moment and then I will come and you can tell me everything, properly.”

With a nod, Tasallir gestures the girl towards the correct doorway. She goes, only scent of her fear still giving evidence to the fact that she is not really calm yet. The solar is a nice room, though. It overlooks the same rocky beach as the training courtyard, but with a more picturesque view, and there are plants and soft chairs and a neatly organized game board that can be reconfigured to play a number of games. The girl sits down and Tasallir reaches into one of the drawers beneath the main soft, and pulls out a pair of slippers. Normally he wears them while he plays games - the room can get too hot for proper shoes - but it seems more imperative to offer them to the girl.

Her slippers are muddy, and mud itches.

She takes the offering, and does not seem to know what to do with it for a moment. Until her mind catches up to her, and she pulls off her grimy slippers. Tasallir gives her a waste basket to drop them in, while she slides on the new ones.

“I don’t even know how I got so muddy,” she murmurs.

“The training courtyard has dirt floors,” he says. “I never understood why. It just makes things messy. In hindsight, I probably should have noticed my teacher was insane earlier.”

“Oh.”

They sit in awkward silence. The girl stares at her hands, and sniffles, and then reaches up and tries to straighten the ribbons in her hair. Tasallir doesn’t know what to say. He’s relieved when Nenae returns; this time dressed in proper day clothes, with their hair tied back, and powder on their face. Usually, when Tasallir visits, they have a tray of sweets. Today they only have tea, which they settle down onto the serving table, before moving to brush a hand over Tasallir’s head.

“Are you alright?” they ask him softly.

He looks up at them, and nods. One of their fingers brushes across his cheek.

“He hit you?” they ask, in the same low, careful tone of voice.

Oh. Tasallir had nearly forgotten that, in the rush of everything. He doesn’t like to think of it right now, either, he finds. After a moment, he shrugs awkwardly. Nenae’s expression shifts. They pass him a cup of tea and a cool cloth, and quietly tell him to just rest, before they turn their attention towards the girl. As Tasallir breathes out in relief and sips his tea, Nenae settles onto the seat next to their unexpected guest. They ask her several low, soft questions, too. Most of which the girl either nods to or shakes her head at. A few merit answers out loud.

“What is your name, sweetheart?” they ask.

“Serahlin,” the girl says.

“What a lovely name,” Nenae commends. They give her some tea, too, and then gently fix her hair ribbons for her. “I almost named Tasallir ‘Seravir’, which is very close to that. Your mothers must have impeccable taste.”

“They do,” Serahlin says, a little more steadily. “Memae and Mamae are the most respectable elves in Lady Julianne’s employ. They are always faultless.”

“I suspected as much,” Nenae tells her. “It would take such people to raise a child so brave and well-mannered, especially under the circumstances. I’m certain that they will be proud to hear you handled a terrible situation so well.”

“They’ll be worried,” Serahlin says.

Nenae rubs her shoulder.

“They’ll be beside themselves, that’s true. But we’ll get you back. I will even see to it that you are all given a gift, for the trouble.”

Tasallir finds himself reassured. Serahlin also seems to be, as she tries to keep up the polite conversation for a while; before her distress wins out, again. Then he watches as she crumples into tears. Nenae shushes her gently, and pulls her into their lap. They rock her, as they used to do for Tasallir when he was much smaller. Humming and soothing until Serahlin’s elven body seems to just… give out, in exhaustion.

He watches in consternation as the little girl falls unconscious.

“Is she alright?” he checks. He can hear her breathing, and her heart beating.

“Yes, just utterly drained. Poor thing,” Nenae clucks. They lay Serahlin out so that she can lie down on the seat, and then move back over to sit next to Tasallir instead.

“Darling, what did you do, precisely, to stop your teacher?” they ask him.

Tasallir considers.

“I said ‘stop’,” he recounts. “And I held out my hand. And then… something happened. I think I saw ropes? But not real ones. Maybe they were just in my mind. They seemed to grab him, and after that, it was like he couldn’t move anything except for his eyes.”

Nenae takes in a long breath and lets it out again. They brush some more of his hair back. In their lap, one of their hands is clenched into a fist. It trembles, slightly.

“May I hug you, Tasallir?” they ask.

Ordinarily, after having Serahlin grab him so much, he thinks he would say no. But watching her be cradled and cuddled by his nenae had left him feeling strangely. Almost envious, he thinks. So after a moment, he nods in agreement. And then he closes his eyes, as his nenae sweeps their arms around him and crushes him to their chest. The sensation is nearly overwhelming, but he savours it anyway. Surrounded by their scent, and the feel of them holding him. They bury a nose in his hair and breathe in deeply, before pressing several kisses to his crown.

“My baby,” they say. “How dare. How dare you, Ravasan…”

“Nenae?” Tasallir asks, tentatively.

They lean back after a moment, and frame his face with their hands. Their fingers brush over the reddened marks on him, soothingly; though the marks do not hurt anymore, and have not for a while. They stopped stinging while he and Serahlin were still running.

“Don’t worry,” they say. They have an odd expression on their face. “Nenae will fix it. Your friend will be alright, and you won’t ever see that ‘teacher’ again.”

Tasallir thinks he should feel reassured. But for some reason, he finds himself wary instead.

“How?” he wonders.

“How?” Nenae asks, though they do not actually seem offended. They press a finger to his nose, before they finally sit back and give him his space again. “How indeed. There is no authority greater than your father’s, and there are some things he wants from me that he cannot take by force. Not without ruining them forever after. So, this time, your father will do as I tell him to. Because it will cost him nothing and gain something.”

Tasallir sips some more of his tea.

“What will you give him?” he wonders.

Nenae shakes their head.

“Nothing you have to worry about,” they say.

“But I will worry about it,” Tasallir refutes. He is almost surprised at himself. Nenae frowns a little, and he stares down at his teacup. “Forgive me…”

“No, no. I know you worry, darling,” they say, patting the table next to his hand. “It’s nothing. Just a little blood. It won’t even hurt me.”

He stares at his nenae; at the pallor that has consistently overtaken their complexion. The dark circles covered by powder. The faint hollowness to their features, that seems to have grown more and more noticeable. Bit by bit, over the past few years. He knows it is rude, but he stares, too, at their neck. He never sees the bite mark, though. They always cover it up. He only knows it is there because once - just once, before he left the nursery - he saw his father come, and bite Nenae there.

He smelled the blood, and cried.

“I’m sorry,” he offers. “I made trouble for you…”

“Nonsense,” Nenae says.

Tasallir swallows, and thinks of what his teacher had been telling him, when he was trying to get him to kill Serahlin. About things costing nothing, and gaining something. But that is not how balance works. That is not the order of things. Even if one does not pay a cost themselves, energy must always be transferred.

Does his father think in such terms?

But surely Father has read all the same books that Tasallir has? Ethics and philosophy as well as science and physics and everything else. His history teacher once told him that there was not a single book in the world that Father had not read.

So maybe it is Tasallir who truly does not understand the nature of this bartering, in lives and blood.

“Nenae…” he asks, tentatively.

They look towards him patiently.

“Am I going to have to drink blood, one day?” he wonders.

His nenae pauses. Their gaze turns down. Slowly, and with deliberate care, they unclench the hand in their lap. Then they smooth it over their lap, and onto the upholstery beside him.

“If a vampire does not drink blood, then they will die. The same way that if I do not drink water, I will day,” they say. “You, Tasallir, will be able to survive on either. But. Blood will give you power, and it is power that is addicting. Once you begin to drink blood, Tasallir, you will want to keep doing it. The more you do it, the harder it will be to stop. So… I would rather you did not do such a thing, unless needs must.”

Tasallir nods in understanding. He feels a rush of relief.

“I will not have to?” he checks, just in case.

Nenae smiles at him. The last of the tension seems to ease from their posture.

“You will not have to,” they promise.

Tasallir stays another hour, then. They finish having tea. Serahlin does not wake up, but Nenae tell him to leave her with them. When his usual breakfast time comes, he leaves. He stays away from the training courtyards, but his instructor is nowhere to be see. Tasallir manages to pass the rest of the day in relative peace; he goes to to his evening lessons, when his vampiric tutors awaken. He tries to focus on his studies, though it is harder than usual to curtail his thoughts.

When he is finally free to have his own time again, he heads back to his nenae’s rooms.

The way is warded, once more.

Tasallir feels mixed feelings, and even apprehension when his steps - rather than rerouting him back towards his own room - instead bring him to the stark double-doors of his father’s study. He hesitates before them, trying to swallow down his trepidation, but knowing he must be expected.

It is rude to keep people waiting.

With his heart hammering, he reaches up, and pulls the door to the left open. It is heavy and solid in his grasp. Father’s study is massive, filled with the sounds of clicking machines and whirling devices. Bookshelves tower between wrought iron windows. A map of the world is etched into the floor, and a faint, acrid scent clings to the air. His father’s large, wingback chair is situated next to the largest window in the room.

Tasallir can see his arm, as he sits in it.

The door to the study shuts behind him. His father stands up.

“Tasallir,” he beckons.

Dutifully, he moves forward. The summons to follow is obvious, as his father heads through one of the side doors of the study, Head down, Tasallir trails after him. They head through one of the workshops, and then down an unfamiliar flight of stairs. Though the castle still has so many, even despite Tasallir spending all of his life in it. He watches the light recede behind them, while his father glides effortlessly downwards, until they are in a cell.

His combat instructor is bound in the middle of it.

Tasallir startles again. The man is covered in welts. His eyepatch is gone, and his clothes have been torn in some places, but what seems to be the weight of several heavy blows. Blood trickles sluggishly down into his collar. It looks as though someone has beaten him many times over with some kind of belt or whip.

It is an unpleasant sight, and Tasallir does not want to see it.

“What is going on?” he asks.

His father comes to a halt in the nearest corner of the room.

“Your nenae informed me your instructor was unsuitable,” Father tells him. “They have reprimanded him. I now leave it to you to decide what to do with him.”

Tasallir shifts uncomfortably in place.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

His father’s gaze does not seem to rest on either himself or his combat instructor.

“I mean what I say. What would you have done with him?”

“I…” Tasallir’s gaze skitters away from the wounded man before him. The scent of blood makes him feel nauseous. “I don’t know.”

A long silence descends. Father seems ambivalent. When he ventures a look back towards his instructor, the man only returns his stare with disgust. Disgust and disappointment, so apparent that even Tasallir cannot mistake them.

“Where’s Serahlin?” he asks his father.

“What?”

“The elven child.”

“Oh. The girl has been taken back to her home,” his father says. “Memories erased. Compensation provided.”

“Truly?” Tasallir finds himself asking.

Father looks at him, at that. As if surprised by the question.

“When have you known me to lie?” he asks.

“Never,” Tasallir supposes. “But I am learning new things every day.”

He would never openly rebel against his father. His will is absolute; he is the oldest vampire in existence, and quite possibly the most powerful being in the world. Next to that, Tasallir and Nenae are only dust. But for some reason, today, he finds himself thinking of his mother’s gods. Of the way defiance tastes at the back of his tongue, like the crack of power flying forth at a single command. The chaos of these situations grates against him, like a hand pressed to tightly to his skin.

He wants to put it right.

Father looks away from him after a moment.

“Decide,” he commands.

Tasallir closes his eyes, before turning on his heel to walk back out of the room.

“Send him away, then,” he decides. “No more combat classes.”

His father does not object. So Tasallir walks out of the dungeon, and back through the work room. He is at the door to the study, before he hears his father’s voice again.

“Tasallir.”

He stops.

“You must learn to fight.”

A sigh escapes him.

“A new instructor will be sent for. Do not trouble your nenae with this information.”

When that seems to be all, Tasallir finally opens the door to the story, and hurries back out again. Waiting until he is in the hallway to slump against one of the walls, and retch over the stress and the lingering image of his instructor’s battered form.

Tasallir is eighteen when his nenae dies.

If he were a more sentimental person, he thinks he might claim that he knew the moment it happened. But the truth is, he does not. He only knows the matter after - knows when the castle shakes, knows when Ravasan’s fury and pain begin to resound through the firmament of his construct, and his cry of anguish resonates in such unfamiliar tones that Tasallir would not even recognize his voice, save for the fact that no other being could impact the castle so entirely.

His blood, rarely warm, turns to ice in his veins.

He can think of only one thing that even could merit such a cry.

His nenae has been gone for nearly a year, by then.

They left. A moment of opportunity, Tasallir thinks. Ravasan had, for the first time in memory, neglected the eluvian room. The sounds of a mirror activating were not unfamiliar, resonating through the other reflective surfaces of the castle, but the panic that ensued was. The castle had cycled through a hundred different locations, since then. Scouts were sent out. Tasallir was locked in his quarters; sealed away, at first, and then dragged out by contrast. Dangled like bait, as he was escorted from the castle for the first time since… the first time, in fact.

We must find your nenae. It is not safe for them. They are in danger, Tasallir. We must bring them back…

He had not known if he believed his father’s words, then. Wavering in uncertainty, lost in the knowledge that Nenae had left of their own will. Just as they had tried to do before. They had left…

…They had left without him, in the end.

In Kirkwall, Tasallir found something. Standing in a dingy tavern, trying not to touch the wealth of filthy surfaces; even with his gloves on, he felt over-exposed and surrounded by chaotic mess. The scouts were out searching the less visible parts of the city. Tasallir’s job was to be, by contrast, very visible. The bright lure to draw his nenae out. As he stood in the tavern, wishing to be elsewhere, some patrons had passed close. Making inappropriate comments, asking pithy questions. Reeking of ale and spit and even more unpleasant things.

Someone passed into him from behind.

Tasallir froze.

For the briefest moment, he caught a familiar scent. In the corner of his eye, there was a flash of bright red hair. The feel of fingers brushing, just briefly, against his arm.

Then it was gone. And by the time Tasallir had decided whether or not to turn around, whether or not to really look for someone who did not wish to be found, there was no sign of anything. The moment brief enough that it could have been a dream.

He found the note in his pocket hours later. When he was alone in his room, and finally dared to look.

My dearest Tasallir,

I am so sorry. You will never know how sorry I truly am, my son, that I could not take you with me. That I left you behind. I can offer you no excuses. I had but one chance to go, and no time to find you. In a moment, I took it. In the next, I nearly ran back. But as you read this, you must know, of course, that I did not. I did not go back for you.

And I cannot. That castle is a tomb, and I cannot let myself be sealed away. I cannot endure it any longer. The more freedom I taste the more I know that I would rather die out here than live another minute in that gilded cage.

I do not know if you will understand that. You have never known freedom, so you do not understand the cost of its absence. It is my greatest regret that I could not bring you with me. That I cannot show you the world as I see it. But I know he has you searching for me. Dearest one, I do not know what my words will mean to you. If you are angry at me. If you are confused. If you are lonely and afraid. They may mean nothing now, after this abandonment, but I hope you will still heed me. If only a little.

You must not stay in that castle. You must not remain with that dead man. The world can be a frightening and dangerous place, Tasallir, full of sorrow and treachery. But it is also full of so many wonders. Ravasan knows many things, but he understands less than enough to fill a thimble. There are wonders out here that you will never recognize until you are free. Win your freedom, my son. When you see the door open, seize your chance, and barrel through.

If you can forgive me, come and find me again. My life is a string of regrets, but you are not one of them.

All my love,

Nenae.

Tasallir had read and re-read the note. Until finally he had folded it neatly away, and hit it in a pocket on the inside of his boot.

He was not angry. He could not even fathom being angry, and he had no reason to feel frightened. Loneliness… Tasallir could not say either way, he supposed. There was a gnawing ache in him, and like a missed step in the dark, the end of the week felt strained and strange without his nenae’s voice to steady him. But there was so much upheaval, how could he know if he felt loneliness, when his father’s minions dragged him through every major thoroughfare in Thedas, leaving him struggling through crowds and trying to navigate evening bridges, stranded in market squares with screaming children and aggressive vendors?

Did he want Nenae to be found?

…That didn’t matter. What mattered was that Nenae did not want to be found. So, Tasallir kept the letter in his boot.

As the castle quaked, and his heart sank, he felt as though he had made the gravest mistake of his life.

Father called a war council.

The engines of the castle churned. Tasallir was summoned, but then, so, it seemed, was every other creature of the night. The castle was situated high atop a foggy hillside. The doors were flung wide open for seven nights, as vampires from across Thedas poured in; solitary figures, and covens, ancient beings and freshly-turned degenerates. To say that Tasallir had any advantage over the rest would have been folly. His father put out the summons, and screamed wrath into the various portals and machines of the castle; and when the fury would die down in him, he would retreat to his study, and seal the doors.

Not once did he call for Tasallir in particular. Not even to recriminate him. It was days before Tasallir even learned what had happened.

In Kirkwall.

The Knight Commander burned his nenae at the stake. Maleficarum, they were branded. A wicked elven mage.

Tasallir maintained his composure at the news until he was alone. Then he broke down. Falling to his knees, as he shook, and shook, and wondered where that anguished sound was coming from. Until he realized his throat was aching from the strength of his own cries.

Like father like son, perhaps. But Tasallir’s fit lingered only in the unsteadiness of his limbs, and the way his mind could not focus on a single thought of fire, or the red of Nenae’s hair.

Ravasan’s was far more enduring.

On the seventh night, the doors slam shut. The war council is assembled. Tasallir takes not of the crowd. Not only vampires, in the end, but some others, too. Mages. Artisans of the dead from Nevarra; forgers of night-terror golems from Orzammar. Magister lich lords, abominations, and more. Ravasan’s war council is the most crowded that Tasallir has ever seen the castle be. It suddenly strikes him that the spaces around him were, perhaps, even meant for crowds these size at some point. The cavernous chambers feel, for the first time in his recollection, necessary to comfortably accommodate the crowds in the castle.

The chatter of the masses goes silent, as Ravasan glides out into the meeting chamber.

“Children of the Night,” he greets. “The time has come. A thousand years ago, I stood before a council of you. Some of you the same faces, even then. And I disbanded the armies of dusk, in the name of a prosperous future.”

Ravasan seemed massive, to Tasallir. At that moment he all but towered. His cloak a black shadow; his body a wall. His skin bleached as bone. There was nothing in his eyes. Just a void, like the hollow pits of a skull.

You must not remain with that dead man.

“I stand before you now to decry that Ravasan as a fool. I call upon you, now, to join me in forsaking the world ruled by mortal souls. My beloved is dead. Burned by those who would count themselves as virtuous. I care not if they have any virtue to speak of. I care not if any living being does. I call for their deaths! For all of their deaths! I call for the chantry’s decimation, for the slaughter of their peoples, for the streets to run red with blood. I call for war!”

The hall bursts into uproar. Tasallir is stunned; he had never even thought such a thing might be possible. War? Armies? He stares blankly ahead, as the uproar among the gathered crowds surges. Some cheer and roar in delight, crying out in triumph, as if something they have long awaited has finally come to pass. Others call out questions, raise their arms, trying to mitigate the furor of the crowds as they seek answers or clarifications or try and gain Ravasan’s attention.

It is futile, of course. Father did not come to debate. He came to announce. Tasallir watches him leave, letting the crowd fight among itself. Some onlookers try and follow, but the castle will not let them.

With what advantages her does have, Tasallir turns, and makes his way down a side passage. Detouring several times, before he finally manages to get onto a pathway that leads to the double doors of his father’s study.

They are locked.

Tasallir musters himself, and slams the knocker down.

“It is me,” he announces.

There is a long wait.

But just when he has begun to abandon it in futility, the study door opens a crack.

He pushes it the rest of the way. Once he’s inside, it swings shut behind him, of course. The study is quiet. The usual click and clack of machines has been silenced. The lights are dim. Moonlight streams in through the large study window, and shines against the skin of Ravasan’s hand, from where Tasallir can see it.

He approaches the chair.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

His father does not deign to answer. His eyes remain fixed out of the window in front of him.

“A war?” he presses. “You mean to sic the forces of darkness on Kirkwall?”

Father’s gaze remains fixed. But one of his fingers taps the armrest of his chair.

“Kirkwall?” he says. “No. My son. I mean to raze all of Thedas.”

Tasallir hesitates.

“What… who’s ‘all of Thedas’, in this scenario?” he asks. “The chantry?”

“All of them,” his father insists. “The Free Marches. Orlais. Ferelden. Tevinter. Nevarra. Antiva. Every country, every nation, every filthy shore from here to Seheron. Every human, every elf, dwarf, vashoth, all of them. I will not suffer them any longer. This nightmare, this unceasing nightmare of rebirth and decay. Every inch of it must be destroyed…”

Tasallir stares at his father, and feels a familiar incomprehension dawn.

Suddenly, it is almost as if he is twelve years old again. Staring at his combat instructor, as the man commands him to kill an innocent little girl. The cold in his veins feels heavy. A stone in the pit of his stomach; the bottom of his heart.

Madness.

“Father… that is pure insanity,” he says.

There is silence.

And then, before he can blink, there is a fist around his throat. Tasallir’s eyes widen. He barely has time to lift a hand, to think of defense, before he is pitched across the room. His back slams into one of the study bookshelves. Hard enough to knock the breath clean out of him, as his father rounds on him like a nightmare. Looming and stone-faced, except that the hollow pits of his eyes seem lit with a hungry, all-consuming fire instead.

“Insanity?” he demands. “Insanity, my son, is that your nenae died in Kirkwall! Where I sent you at least half a dozen times! Did you think this was a game?! That a dozen scouts scouring every city in the realm, an engine churning every night for months on end, was idle farce?! I sent you to find them, and you left them to their death instead!”

Tasallir hurries back to his feet. Keenly aware of the creature before him, the ancient and unnatural being bearing down upon him. He raises his hands, and flinches as his father reaches out and flings a nearby chair into the wall. The crash of the wood splintering into pieces echoes on impact.

“Father!” he beseeches. “Stop!”

Another piece of furniture flies. This one collides with Tasallir, and knocks him into yet another bookcase. As Ravasan bears down on him again, he is struck by the sudden certainty that if he does not do something quickly, he is going to die.

He draws his sword.

The silvery blade gleams, moving from its sheath with the power of a thought. Physical fighting was never Tasallir’s strong suit; but telekinesis, as it happens, is something of a rare talent. He hurries out of his father’s path, and sends his sword arcing forward in a defensive move to deflect another thrown chair.

Ravasan reaches out, in a sudden flash, and grasps the handle of his blade. He wrenches from the hold of Tasallir’s mind, so fierce that there is no resisting it. The pull jars him, badly. He staggers, and then falls backwards as his father strikes out at him with his own sword.

The blow is shocking. The blade slices through his jacket and vest, and cleaves neatly into his flesh. Burning silver-bright as it cuts a swath across his torso. His own blood spatters, dark red, against the front of his father’s cloak, and the wall beside him. Tasallir’s eyes are wide. The pain is excruciating. He falls, clutching at himself; caught by a sudden, desperate fear that his heart is about to fall clear through the wound in his chest.

Father halts.

The fire in his hollow gaze seems to flicker out for a moment, as he stares uncomprehendingly at Tasallir.

His sword clatters to the floor.

“Father…” he breathes.

The man stares at him.

His head shakes, just slightly. Then he backs away. Hastily at first, it seems; but then maybe that was just the jittery state of Tasallir’s own mind. Because a moment later, he is gliding away. Back over to his chair, as if nothing of note has just happened. Tasallir’s blood spreads across the floor.

“Leave,” his father instructs.

With a great force of effort, Tasallir picks himself up off the floor of the study. He nearly slips in his own blood. His arm clutches his chest, as the wound burns. He does not know what to do for it; he has never been so badly hurt before. With numb fingers, he physically lifts his sword. More out of some obscure habit towards tidiness than anything else. His thoughts are scattered; delirious.

You must not remain with that dead man.

Leave.

He takes the command further, perhaps, than he father intended; as he staggers from the study, and then hurries to his room. Stopping only long enough to wrap his torso in bandages, and try to stem the bleeding, before he pulls on a fresh set of clothing. The kind he normally would wear on one of his searches for Nenae. He leaves his hair loose, as he belts his sword on again, and then makes his way back into the churning corridors of the castle. Heading down and down, until he finds the main hall again. The double doors are closed; but the side entrances are open, as servants hurry to and fro, trying to accommodate the maelstrom of guests.

Tasallir is not recognized, nor regarded.

He slips out of the castle, and vanishes into the night.

#long post #tazbanvania au #tasbanana #castlevania au

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actanvrb · 2 years

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PINNED POST .

MOBILE ABOUT PAGE. KERIS. RULES (under cut)

this blog is independent, highly selective and on permanent semi-hiatus; it is meant to be an outlet for me when my main blog becomes too much

verses are not up yet but are being worked on, friendly to all fandoms & ready to learn about the ones i don’t know about. so yeah, feel free to tell me about your fandom or ramble to me about it, i love it when people are passionate about something. also my rules might sound strict, but i can promise you i’m genuinely a lot nicer than they might sound. pinky swear.

this post will be updated as i see fit, so please keep that in mind as well.

BASICS

i do not support callout culture. it started as a good idea giving psa's to warn people of dangerous people but it's become nothing more than a petty salt fest and i'm honestly too old and too tired to deal with that. if you support callout culture do not follow me or i will softblock you. that being said, i also am not a big fan of “DNI if you write with xyz”. unless you can give me a good and valid reason not to write with someone outside of “they suck” i will softblock you because at that point it’s just childish.

please tag content involving "gender discussion" and "spiders". those are the two topics i'm highly sensitive about as i have to deal with one on the daily and the other is, well, simply a fear i have.

MUTUALS, SHIPPING & WRITING

i love shipping, but it is not a priority for me. caz is a delicate muse who can be hard to form a proper relationship with; hell, he's hard to befriend at times unless you simply decide to follow him around and he lets it happen. pre-established stuff of any sort is welcome though, so feel free to approach me about it i guess.

i might be selective with whom i follow and i will prefer to write with mutuals only but i have no problems writing with non-mutuals. just approach me and we can talk stuff out!

CREDITS

i have a credits page you can find in my sidebar, but i do not have an art credits page; most art i have found on pixiv or in doujins. if you want to know of a specific artworks source feel free to approach me and i can try to find it; on the other hand if you see your artwork or artwork where i missed the author saying they explicitly don't want for it to be used please shoot me a message and i will delete the icons / graphic as soon as i see the message.

#PSA ( tbt. )#* len. human form of the garbage emoji ( ooc . )

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noxstrix · 6 years

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ABOUT THE MUN.

hello. i am coyote. my pronouns are she / her and they / them. i am over 21 years old, and a full time college student. i’m a practicing pagan in the real world. i have adhd and anxiety, so i really prefer to reply to drafts selectively and with mutuals only. my classes are mon - thurs and i tend not to reply very much on those days. because of this i’d call this blog medium activity. as of right now nisa is my only character. i believe everyone has the freedom to say whatever they want on their blogs, within reason, please do not follow me if you are someone who is easily offended.

i know my rules are long, but they are to keep everyone on the same page and to prevent any future discourse from happening on my blog or between us as writers. thank you so much for taking the time to read everything, i sincerely appreciate it !!

TRIGGERING CONTENT / TRIGGER TAGGING.

please exit the page and unfollow right now, if you are under the age of eighteen.

this blog is extremely triggering. i cannot stress this enough. blasphemy is a reoccurring theme. a lot of the content i write here explores conspiracy theories about the biblical apocalypse, the vatican and its links to illuminati, free masonry, and the ninth circle. if you have ever been curious enough to research on these cults, then you would likely know they are linked to subject matter such as human sacrifices, sex trafficking, murder, pedophilia, etc etc. while i do not promote or condone any of this, there will be frequent mentions in my writing of these topics and i won’t be tagging them. blasphemy will also never be tagged on my blog.

images posted / reposted on this blog are sometimes graphic and contain blood, gore, or melancholy. i will not be trigger tagging anything that does not make me personally uncomfortable. this blog is mine and i can do or post whatever i want on it. however, sometimes i do feel like there’s a line that might be crossed in regards to my followers.

i will be tagging any triggering imagery as / horror. if you wish to add that to your blacklist. additionally if you have any really specific, and legitimate phobias you require me to tag, don’t hesitate to message me privately. all phobias brought to my attention ( ie. spiders, eye gore ) will likely wind up under the blacklist tag / trigger. i will not be tagging anything such as food, or body image.

THE CHARACTER / THEFT.

my character takes basis from biblical, luciferian, satanic, gnostic and jewish mythology. she is lilith’s reincarnation. i however, do change up some of the lore and give it my own ideas and flavors. everything about nisa and lilith, i headcanoned myself. same goes for her partner blog lucian / lucifer ( @antichrstis ). i wrote both of biographies. please do not steal any aspects of either character, or any of my lore regarding their universe, as i worked very hard on their background stories. i will post a call out, if i catch you imitating, copying, or stealing anything. this is your one and only warning.

AGE LIMITS.

because this blog is full of mature, adult content, please do not follow me if you are under the age of eighteen or you cannot maturely handle in character content like profanity, sex, horror, violence, torture, mental or physical abuse. if either of the words sex or smut bothers you and makes you feel even a little queezy or you have an aversion to it, i definitely do not suggest following. while i don’t smut often on this blog, it does happen, and when it does, it’s with characters whose writers are over the age of 20. sorry, i personally do not feel comfortable writing smut with muns younger than 20 years of age, i don’t care of 18 is the legal age, this is my personal preference.

additionally, i do not ship my oc against characters whose face claims are under the age of 25. i will not ship her with characters under the age of 23 ( divided by 2 + 7 rule ) that’s creepy to me. not only is nisa thirty one years old, but lilith is older than the earth’s creation. don’t even try to come up with excuses or convince me otherwise because it’s gonna get you hard blocked, you feel me?

MUN =/= MUSE.

nisa’s personal beliefs and actions, are not my own ! please keep ooc and ic separate in this regard. these are works of fiction and this is roleplay. the mun’s personality is not the muses. she’s a bit of a binch sometimes and narcissistic, but just because she is rude and mean to some characters, does not mean i, the mun, feel that way towards you ooc, or towards your character!

CHARACTERIZATION + METAGAMING.

please, please, please, read nisa/lilith’s about pages in full. like every detail, okay? because i am so, so very tired of people approaching her as the stereotypical lilith. or approaching her automatically like she’s a bitch. if you’re a bitch to her first or give her an attitude, you better believe you’re going to get a reply according to that ten fold.

nisa is in essence, a fallen angel / demon, and the creator of witches and supernatural monstrosities, reincarnated. lilith is sometimes interpreted in biblical prophecy as the anti-christ’s partner in crime, which means only god can kill her. you can throw holy water at her, you can torture her, decapitate her, but your character can’t get rid of her.

she is true immortal. if you are going to pick a fight with her, pick your battle wisely, because she will not hesitate to use her magic or destroy your character to make a point. i do not hold her characterization back for any reason, so when you find yours flying across the room or pinned on a ceiling, don’t be surprised.

also bear in mind she has the ability to see people’s pasts and future, to pick up on their emotions, insecurities, and decipher personal things about them. i always read character’s backgrounds first to get an idea, and sometimes dig through headcanons pages for some juice. unless your character is a witch or supernatural being who has taken precautions spiritually or magically to block anyone from doing so at any given time, don’t be surprised if this happens. i analyze your subtext as well, so anything your character is feeling or any vibes they’re giving off may or may not additionally not be picked up on.

if you read this and you’re thinking “lol overpowered, mary sue,” don’t follow me. it’s that simple. all of the powerful / evil characters you hate to love on television are mary sues when you strip away the lime light media. i suggest taking a look in the mirror and getting off your high horse when it comes to your attitude towards original characters, kay? awesome.

GOD MODDING.

ah yes, god modding. please don’t do it to my character unless discussed first, or unless you are sending me a starter! starters are the only situation i let people gently god mod in, because i know it can be difficult writing threads out of thin air.

do not undermine evil or magically powerful characters. i think most of us have been around the rpc long enough to have seen the psa going around on tumblr about this. it’s truly frustrating, when you have someone’s human character or any being capable of dying, repetitively poking a villain with a sharp stick, and then getting all butt-hurt when the other person replies accordingly with negative consequences for their muse.

because my character is an immortal, with nearly all magical abilities, i am going to be honest with you. if your character does anything threatening towards nisa/lilith, or anything which might provoke her to harm yours, i will god mode in my reply. again, pick your battles wisely. this only happens if your character does something to deserve it. there will be no ’ attempts made ’ because if they are human, she can literally begin choking them from across the room, melting their brain, breaking their bones, setting them on fire, or instantly kill them with a tap on their shoulder, if she chooses.

if your character is supernaturally based and has magical powers, etc, i will message you first and give you a heads up so we can discuss how we want their fight to end and which direction to go in. every attack on your supernatural character will be attempted. in counter, if your character wants to engage in a magical battle or some sort of violent fight with mine, i hope you will respect me the same way and message me before hand.

ENGAGING / INTERACTING WITH MY CHARACTER.

this blog is mutuals only! if i don’t follow you please do not send me random memes, or anything unprompted. also please do not like any of my starter calls or reply to my open starters. if i don’t follow you back, please don’t feel bad! it is most likely because i don’t see her interacting with your character, you post too much ooc, or i already follow too many of a certain muse. i am ocd about what is on my dash. i have adhd so a fast and clustered or disorganized dash does give me anxiety!

with that out of the way, any mutuals, whether we have or haven’t interacted, are always welcome to send nisa/lilith random starters, dialogue one liners, crack, memes, headcanon questions, etc. there is no limit as to how you can interact with me or how you want to. if you feel like interacting with nisa, feel confident that you can just do it and don’t hesitate !!!!! none of you will or could ever annoy me tbh.

SOFT / HARD BLOCKING / UNFOLLOWING.

this blog practices both soft blocking and hard blocking. if i soft block you and you try re-following, i hard block. i do this to protect myself, and to protect my creative freedom on my blog. i don’t owe anyone an explanation. if i see frequent call outs, callout reblogs, vague posts, or negativity on your blog, i will not hesitate to block you as i see fit. please keep your ooc political views off my dash. i really don’t give a shit, since i’m here to roleplay.

if you think i might have unfollowed you on accident ( bc lets be real the mobile app is really trash and my thumbs are clumsy ) please unfollow and then refollow me to alert me of my mistake. my tumblr msgs are currently for mutuals only, so that’s the easiest way to get my attention.

SHIPPING / SMUT.

as far as shipping is concerned, this blog only engages in pre-plotted ships. all pre-plotted ships will get their own verse.

nisa is a complicated character and she is demiromantic. she isn’t really a flings kind of person and i bet you’re thinking ’ lol but it’s lilith ’ and yeah, that’s true, but just because the bible called her a whore, doesn’t mean she is one. i’d really like to point out that they gave her that image because she disobeyed adam and god, whom are both men. did i also mention that the bible and rabbinical story of lilith, was written by men?

okay, great. now, we’re on the same page. many pagan practices and religions believe that periods of celibacy are a good thing, and actually makes witches more powerful, because sexual energy is powerful. before nisa accepts her fate of being lilith’s reincarnation, she does this frequently, as well as fasts, so that her various uses of magic, or that her visions, have an amplified effect.

in contrast, sometimes celibacy gets to be too much and she needs to actually release that tension and craves companionship, so one night stands, and flings are more likely to happen over romantic ships. she is flirty by nature and sometimes touchy-feely, this does not mean, however, that she wants to engage in sexual relations with your character.

i will only write with / ship with one lucifer, and that is @antichrstis in her main verse.

if your character is feeling nisa, or you view her character as someone yours might want to romantically ship with, and you would like it to happen, please feel free to message me andwe can discuss verse arcs and details ! don’t let what was previously mentioned above deter you.

i briefly mentioned smut earlier in my rules, but this is a reminder that i will not smut with anyone under age 20 or any muses whose fcs are under age 25.

DISCORD / TUMBLR MSGS.

if we’re mutuals, message me at your leisure! if you would like my discord, it is available upon request. i am open to ooc chit - chatting and plotting. i like making friends and getting to know people, so don’t be shy!

#noxstrix rules.

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not-ciel · 3 years

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FAQ that's actually just pre-emptive clarifications and no one actually asked me shit:

🐺 How old are you?

I'm a legal adult.

🖤 Why don't you specify?

Because no one is entitled to that information. It's rather suspicious that people want to know specifics actually. Half the time it smells like sweaty sickos chasing barely legals and I'd rather be assumed to be a 67 year old creep than give out info I'm not comfortable sharing. Even when it's not sweaty sickos prying I find it intrusive, entitled and suspicious to demand personal information from strangers. All I will say is that I'm legally an adult and that should be good enough. That statement is solely for the purpose of transparency for minors on this hellsite.

🐺 Are minors allowed to interact?

Sure. I don't mind as long as they're aware I'm an adult and they themselves are okay with that.

🖤 Why Ciel?

Because he's the only fictional character that I can truly relate to, and I find comfort in taking him as my alias; both due to privacy and familiarity. He's also entangled into part of my trauma so he's something of a comfort character/safe haven for me. I don't pay any attention to the fandom and never have, nor do I have plans to involve myself.

🐺 Do you ship—

No.

🖤 Are you an anti or an anti-anti?

I'll do you one better —I'm an anti-anti-anti, plus however many more times I need to repeat the word anti to express that I just want to be left alone. Don't draft me into wars I want nothing to do with. Keep your ships on your blog and out of mine, I don't want to hear it.

🐺 But—

No! Talking about ships and/or the discourse surrounding any of them makes me so so uncomfortable.

🖤 Why do you post about trauma alongside agere content?

Because I can. Also because this is a blog meant to help me cope, and I honestly don't think I could stand to talk about it if I didn't have nice things here, which would defeat the whole purpose of using this blog. I tag things accordingly and with quite a heavy hand to protect anyone who may stumble in here, so what's the issue? Any negative content I engage with here is also fairly tame. I would estimate that this blog is 95% agere/sfw content and 5% trauma related, the latter of which is predominantly expressed through my own text posts (which are tagged to the nines).

🐺 Is there NSFW content on this blog?

Honestly depends on what you classify as nsfw. I have religious trauma, amongst other things, which admittedly skews my perspective quite a bit and there's a lot of work to be done in terms of rewiring my brain to not find the human body inherently sexual due to religious guilt and shame. The nsfw tag consists predominantly of exposed skin and anything I read as even mildly suggestive. I don't know how to answer this, because by normal standards probably no??

🖤 Is this a DDLB/MDLG/CGL(RE) blog?

No. Also, whoever thinks CGL and CGLRE are the same is probably ableist, though likely due to being uninformed so I suggest doing some research. I'm not opposed to (sfw) CGLRE.

🐺 Why don't you list your triggers?

Because the idea of giving random strangers on the internet ammunition should they ever decide to attack me for whatever reason is the stupidest thing I've ever heard. I value my well-being and want to protect myself. Furthermore, I don't personally blacklist any tags because I actually want to run the risk of exposure to content I find triggering. I tag for other people though, because what works for me doesn't work for everyone, and I understand the value of content/trigger warnings and take them seriously and do my best to tag. I'm always willing to add more tw/cw tags by request.

🖤 Why don't you have a dni?

Because I don't really pay attention to who interacts with my blog, and on the rare occasion that I do it's their life, not mine. I have enough things to worry about between my own life and the things I consider important, and adding the burden of policing who can and cannot interact with my blog is very low on my list of properties. I get why other people do it, but I don't have the time nor energy to bother. The block button is right there and I use it liberally.

🐺 But Ciel, how will people be able to tell if you're against homophobia, racism, misogyny, etc. if you don't list the ones you deem evil in a dni?

By assuming the best and going about their lives as normal. Or assuming the worst and blocking me. Really, what difference does it make? I really don't need to be worrying about how other people perceive me when I barely want to be perceived to begin with. And no amount of reassuring the masses that I am against x y or z will actually prove anything because words are empty. If this mentality makes someone uncomfortable I respect that and they can choose to not interact with me and/or block me.

🖤 But, Ciel—

No, really, the only thing people should know is that I try my best to interact with the world around me with as much compassion and understanding as possible and seek to learn more every day. My intention is to let the flowers bloom and not step on them.

🐺 What age range is your regression?

Between 5-15, give or take.

🖤 Do you have a caregiver and/or regressor siblings?

I don't have a caregiver, no. I do have a little sibling, though. Not really looking for a caregiver atm, but I'm always willing to be an older brother/babysitter for others.

// This will be edited and added to at a later date.

#ciel.faq

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chimeramaker-blog · 6 years

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Rules

[last update - 07.12.2017]

First off, this page may be heavily updated in the future, since I am not very experienced with the rp community on tumblr nowadays - feel free to consider me as some kind of newbie though I've been rping in the past, things were a little bit different back then, I will do my best to adapt. What I am trying to say by this is that I will add/change rules along with my experiences, for example if I come across something I feel uncomfortable with. I will write a little text post to inform you if things have majorly changed. With that said, enjoy reading my basic rules, lmao.

For more info about the muse, go here. If you want to know about the mun, there.

General Information

This is an independent and semi-selective roleplay blog of my BNHA OC.

I obviously am OC-friendly. Multi-muses are depending - it can be confusing. If your rp blog is a sideblog, please tell me what your main is in order for me to keep track on who to follow and if we're mutuals. I interact with mutuals only. I am very selective about crossovers, I prefer rping in my muses universe, but I may make exceptions.

I am 24 and from Germany. Since English is not my native language, some grammar and spelling errors may occur, however I will always try my best and double-check before submitting a reply.

I am very okay with romance and shipping. I am also fine with multi-shipping, however my muse would not cheat on someone, all relationships will be in different universes.

Do not interupt a thread I am writing on with someone different than you. Starter calls/ask memes and the like are always open for multilpe persons but already ongoing rps are usually closed. If you want to interact with a certain situation/comment on something that has happened in a thread: write a separate ask/post about it.

Writing smut and other nsfw content is fine by me under certain circumstances. Altough I'm a very smutty person, I am not okay with writing smut without at least a bit of plot beforehand, much less if our muses have never interacted before. It'd be impossible for me to know how to act in these situations if I don't know how our muses interact in normal situations.

I will not write nsfw content with you if you are not at least 18+.

I may reblog/post drawings of my OC now and then - if not stated otherwise, those were drawn by me and it should go without saying that I do not want you to repost them without credit/permission or claim them as your own. If you do, I will report you without further notice.

Personal Things

I see how my muses abilities can remind of themes and shows like Steven Universe. I personally don't like Steven Universe much so please try not to make comparisons or jokes containing it. I don't want to affiliate my muse with a show I don't like.

Dragonball Z jokes however are okay, actually I can see Kenzou try to trick classmates into learning and performing the DBZ fusion dance in order to be able to use his quirk on them.

At this point, I am not up to date with the BNHA manga yet. However I don't care at all if you post spoilers or the like, I'm perfectly fine with that. Just know that I may not understand some plot-related things or know some characters all too well yet. Don't be too surprised if I mix things related to the manga up a bit - I just may have not reached a certain point yet. [This point will of course be deleted as soon as I reached the latest chapter and finally am up to date.]

I have ADD, AvPD and high grade depression. Therefore OOC posts may be heavily depression themed, but I will tag them accordingly.

Interacting with my ooc posts is okay.

I'm a slow writer, please be patient.

Mun faceclaim = Jinie Kwon [The Breaker: New Waves]

I'm all for quality over quantity. If my reply contains more or less words than yours, do not think I may have lost my interest or want you to write more as well. Sometimes I'm able to write more and other times I can't think of a way to make my reply any longer. I prefer to receive a reply at all, than for you to struggle keeping up with the numbers of words. At the same time, please don't be mad at me if my reply may end up a bit short. It's either that or my avpd making me avoid replying to the thread at all because I don't think I can pull off writing as much.

IC =/= OOC If you read both my mun and muse about pages, you probably realized that I am sharing a lot of traits with my muse. Yes, I may be self-inserting a bit but the genral rule of course is that all ic do not represent the mun. If our muses get into a fight, it is simply because of the ic interaction and in no way because I have a problem with you as a person. At the same time, if I'm a bit moody ooc, I will not try to make it show ic.

Triggers and Blacklisting

I'm fairly easy to handle. There are no real triggers for me, after spending over 6 years on tumblr I think I have seen some shit but I have never felt the need to blacklist anything other than specific fandoms/shows I do not feel comfortable with (those being: Rick and Morty, Homestuck & Hiveswap, Voltron, Hetalia, Transformers, MLP, Steven Universe). If you're part of these fandoms, please don't feel offended, I either have bad memories for these shows or just don't enjoy them. If you are rping as one of the characters of the shows I will not follow you/rp with you, so unless you are reblogging posts of these shows independently to your blogs theme there will no problems. If you do reblog content of these shows: please tag it. If your mun/muse faceclaim is a character of these shows, please ask me if I am okay with it - in some cases I may make some exeptions. Since my muse likes to fuse animals, I may reblog pictures/drawings of animal hybrids or mutated animals. I will not tag them as 'animal abuse' unless the theme is actually showing - which I usually wouldn't even reblog. At this point I am not tagging them as things like 'body horror' either. If there is specific mutations that make you feel uncomfortable, please tell me. For example a irl photo of a snake with two heads: I would tag it as 'muliple heads'. If you are uncomfortable with the theme of fused animals altogether - maybe blacklist the tag { creations } or do not follow me at all. !!! This blog may contain triggering content like (minor) gore, explicit language, swear words, mentions of abuse, nsfw content, violence, depression, anxiety and so on. I will always do my best and tag everything as good as I can. Should I ever forget to tag something or if there's something specific you want me to tag, always feel free to contact me about it.

Examples of things I'll tag for you: nsfw, tw: spiders, tw: cannibalism, tw: gore, tw: irl gore, tw: animal abuse, tw: blood, tw: self harm Things I want you to tag for me: - other than the fandoms listed above, none so far -

If possible, please like this post after you read my rules, thank you!

#{ mobile links }

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monsterbugstudio · 7 years

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Trigger Tags

Even though my blog is marked as NSFW/Adult ... I am very much aware that there might be some underage people following me. So to keep you fluffs safe ... plus those that in general might find some of the content I am and will be posting, uncomfortable ... I decided to put together a little list of tags I'll be using. Feel free to blacklist those.

NSFW / Slightly NSFW- Contains full or partial nudity.

tw.Gore - Contains gore/blood/guts and so on.

tw.Necro - Contains dead bodies not necessarily gory.

tw.Erotica - Contains sexual content.

tw.Emotional - Contains highly emotional content.

tw.Abuse - Contains content in which one character may act abusively towards another.

tw.Monsters - Contains creatures that some may find disturbing

I'll be tagging my artwork accordingly ... so stay safe.

Another very important note: I have a lot of OC's that are monsters ... in every sense of that word. Keep in mind that their actions are not my own and I as an author/artist do not approve of them. Author/Artist doesn't equal Character.

#Triggers #please blacklist those #if you feel they might not be for you #ill try to reblog #and will also put it somewhere on my blog #ordered the parts to build my new pc #now i have to wait a few days #when I get it #i start posting again

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angelic-petty · 5 years

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➳♡ a quick warning to anyone following me! throughout october i dabble in a bit of seasonal spooky posting and my reblogs might have the following triggers

▸ body horror

▸ eye trauma

▸ blood

▸ blades

i always tag them accordingly (ex. body horror tw, blood tw) but you can also blacklist the word “boo queue” if you want to avoid it all together. none of these posts are irl gore-nor do i approve of those kinds of posts in the first place and is primarily harmless art, anime, horror films, and goth fashion. thank you!

#hush prima

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kiralamouse · 7 years

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A few words on the Wonder Woman movie

I adore @legionofpotatoes‘s post on Wonder Woman, but I want better spoiler guards before I put it on my dash for anyone who can’t simply blacklist, so I’m going to do something I never do: repost, so I can add a cut. Mobile users, you can scroll all the way down now. Please, please see the movie unspoiled first. (And @legionofpotatoes, if you want me to delete this because you prefer reblogs, I’ll gladly do so.) Okay, me out. :)

A few words on the Wonder Woman movie, because I feel like I will explode if I don’t vomit my thoughts on it. HUGE spoilers follow, I’ll try to tag the post accordingly.

Gail Simone, one of the writers behind Wonder Woman’s comic run from a few years back, recently described the new film as “something worth imparting.” Now, I won’t say she took the words right out of my mouth – she put it far more elegantly than I ever could have – but it is a fundamental truth that I echo wholeheartedly. The baseline that every superhero movie eventually measures against.

In Wonder Woman’s case, we got the purest, most well-distilled version of a movie about love.

And I’m not talking in abstracts here. This isn’t a run-of-the-mill blockbuster where character growth takes place within the microcosm of a defiant punch or a surface-level realization. This is an instance where a naïve, hopeful individual steps within the darkest time of humanity’s history and is barraged with disillusionment and disappointment at every step of the way. Led on by her master manipulator of a brother, she experiences the true unrelenting spectrum of horrors that mankind is capable of when left to its own devices, where there are no easy answers in broad strokes, where even good men and women are often forcibly turned into monsters, where even something as beautiful as newfound love can be violently jerked away in service to fixing the unfixable.

Unpopular opinion: Ares is a brilliant choice for a villain, despite all the outcries I’ve heard comparing that specific element of the film to Marvel’s infamous bad guy problem. For our young protagonist, Ares is the ultimate idea of Diana herself, devoid of empathy, a being fully in tune with mankind’s identity, treating it with the harshness it deserves; whispering seedlings of hatred that sprout and grow into violent conflicts. A soft-spoken and quiet man in appearance, he is the proverbial Lucifer deftly disproving his father’s designs for succession, wearing the shattered steel and molten ash of humanity’s wars as armor on his body. He was an arresting vision when revealed in full.

Diana has no dog in this fight, nothing to weigh against his timeless argument. In her moment of desperation and loss, she breaks down and gives in to hatred, only for Ares to double down in his final swing at converting her – a ploy as old as time itself; a scapegoat, so meticulously chosen to represent the worst of humanity. Doctor Poison is brought to her knees and fully exposed as a damaged, albeit undeniably evil individual, responsible for some of the most horrifying acts of mass murder in man’s world. But before Diana’s wrath, she is helpless.

In this brilliant moment of weightless cinema, an emotionally and mentally defeated Wonder Woman is confronted by two vastly different embodiments of evil that require resolution through something other than the tank she holds above her head. The hope that pulled her away from her paradise bubble of an island has been decimated, but through her experiences with Steve, Etta, Sameer, and maybe just a little bit of ice-cream, she rediscovers it. In her darkest, most vulnerable moment she chooses to love the broken murderer and reject the jealous god.

This is where we, as an audience, can feel Wonder Woman truly being born. As is the tradition of all good filmmaking, her rebirth is symbolized by a surge of power that banishes the God of War, and a new dawn that illuminates the war-torn, imperfect, unsightly cradle of humanity that Diana chooses to embrace. Up to this point, her emotional journey had been a clear succession of beats that Patty Jenkins tried to communicate as directly as possible, making this catharsis that much more tangible and powerful.

Diana’s choice in the end is a devastatingly difficult one. It is a choice I would not have made, that most of the movie’s audience members would probably not have made. And even within this hate-torn political landscape we live in today, the film manages the impossible task of wrestling and shaking those thoughts into something resembling hope. That it is not really about worth or deserving. It is about belief. About love.

This movie’s message about love is so unabashed and on-the-nose that I want to cry thinking about all the little girls and boys who will soak it in and grow up as better individuals. This is such an important film in this moment in time. A milestone in popular culture, and one for the history books.

Definitely something worth imparting.

(via @mryddinwilt)

#wonder woman movie #wonder woman spoilers #literary analysis #brilliant

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