#learning to be vulnerable

[adarssuggestionbox]

Healing

@rivendellwatch

-Since our... I'll call it an agreement for now, Elrond will be visiting far more often. For the moment, he will be staying a few more days as per usual when it is inspection time.-

Adar- *Right now, I am carrying out something I often only have dreamed of. Finally, it is coming true! At the time of twilight, we lay upon the flower-covered field. With a hearty helping of coaxing, I was convinced to snuggle into Elrond's side.*

Elrond- *With a delicate hand, he moves my head to his chest.* Will you expose your neck? * He asks politely. He gently adjusts his face to kiss and lick my forehead. He carefully tucks my hair behind my ear. With the same fragile touches, he pets my hair.*

Adar- * I feel a warbling growl escape my throat. My soft inner nature peaks through, urging me to hold his hand as we gaze at the sky together. I'm not sure why, but I instead turn my face into his neck with some shakiness. My chest suddenly feels as if it is being jabbed with a rod of metal, thus my breath is being impaired.*

-The stars are only just now creeping into sight-

Elrond- *He sits up immediately pulling me into his lap* Darling, What's that matter? Please, talk to me.

Adar- *I shake my head and can only shrug, snuggling closer to him.* I'm so sorry... I don't fully understand it myself. *My voice shakes.*

Elrond- *He rocks me in his arms, tugging me closer, kissing the top of my head.* Adar, *He starts with a voice as cozy as a feather bed,* you did say it has been a very long time since anyone close to a lover's status has touched you softly in any manner. *He takes up my hand and kisses my knuckles.* I think because of all the abrasive touches you have endured, your heart needs time to adjust. You're being reminded of what brings life to your soul, my dear. Give it time. You simply need to be allowed to heal. Part of that is feeling.

Adar- *I cling to him tightly, now weeping upon his chest. I can only nod in return, while his words shatter my shell.*

Elrond-* He presses my head over his heart so that I may listen to it beat.* That's it, darling. I'm so proud of you for being brave tonight. I understand it will be difficult to regain a more talkative voice after being silent for so long. Processing this is also not easy, Adar. But I want you to know you are handling this excellently, sweetheart.

Adar- *Never in my wildest dreams could I have ever imagined anyone would speak those words to me in this life. His kindness has me wailing loudly into his chest. All of it is something like a fairytale from one of the books he has lent me. Perhaps he is right about these tears being ones that ought to have been shed long ago... But I am sure some of them are tears of joy as well.*

Elrond- There now, very good, keep going. Let the pain flow away with the stars. *He whispered before nuzzling the top of my head.*

Adar- *After who knows how long, I was able to finally lift my head to catch my breath. I sniffled heavily, wiping my eyes* Th-thank you....

Elrond- *He lovingly brushes the hair from my face.* Of course. This is something I want to talk to you about. But it can wait till tomorrow. Perhaps we can design a routine for you to release emotions daily? Can you agree to that, darling?

Adar- *I look at him with confusion and nervousness. I hadn't required such in my previous life... What would this mean for me? A small, unsure whimper escapes my throat while I cling to him. My body shakes slightly.*

Elrond- * He curls himself protectively around me with all his limbs.* No, sweetheart, there's no need to be afraid. I just want to help you. That's all.

Adar- *A deeply vulnerable yowling trîl escapes my throat. I curl deeper into the safety of his arms. An almost animal-like repeating whimper escapes me. I can't seem to control it. Over and over, I remember who I'm with. Had I been with that "Thing," I wouldn't be as safe in this headspace.*

Elrond- Adar, honey, listen to me, please. *He speaks the command both firmly and gently. Then, with the softest hands, he caresses my stomach.*

Adar-* I stop immediately, unable to find myself disobeying his word.*

Elrond- That's it, well done, sweetheart. I'm going to lay you in the flowers. When I do, you're going to expose your neck. I know pûrring is soothing for you. I'm going to pet your neck to help you pûr. Is that something you can agree to? *He had loads of experience caring for patients with similar issues. As a physician, first, he knew explaining the process was always the best way to ease a patient's worries*

Adar- *I let out a warbling cry as I nod. This vulnerable headspace always left me unable to speak. But Elrond's responsive and prepared nature did put me at ease enough to trust him*

*I allow him to do each thing he specified, but I can't restrain from the death grip that I have on his free wrist. However, his feathered fingers, the floral scent, the gorgeous night sky, and his singing voice have soothed me in no time.*

*A loud pûr erupts from my chest, and so does my cooing call of appreciation. I let go of his wrist and crawl to his side, head bumping and licking the area. His previous actions brought this headspace out with minimal effort.*

Elrond- *Rather than be put off by my strange behavior, he smiled down at me with endearment in his eyes. Then he began petting my hair and scratching at my scalp.* That's much better, darling. I'm so happy to hear you pûrring. * He pulled me into his lap and then kissed the top of my head.*

Adar- * A long trîl rolled out of my mouth, followed by my coo in between pûring.*

Elrond- Aren't you a sweet kitten. *He continued to rub my stomach as I began to settle further into his arms*

[cloudsblackmore]

“i mourn the person i never was

because she hated us both”

- you made me.

[penn-dragon]

I have a headcanon that Sanji struggles with wanting/asking for non-sexual intimacy from Zoro. So if he's having a rough day or just wants to be held by the man he loves he'll initiate sex in order to feel that connection, regardless of whether he's actually in the mood. But Zoro's gotten unnervingly good at telling when he's doing this and redirecting to give him what he actually needs in that moment.

[acochleola]

desire

[lucabyte]

Taking pride in One's own appearance.

[lalalaurieart]

A silly Stobotnik storyboard!

I'm learning a new animation program and I'm shaking some rust off. I wanna get into this more and make a lot of silly videos ahaha

"Look at you, you are JUST A BOTTOM!"

[jojo-schmo]

I remember the first time you hugged me back.

[erinwantstowrite]

the thing about Irondad is that i can make reality whatever i want and what i want is Tony being a cringe failure when it comes to the parenting side of things and Peter simultaneously being like "yeah he is a fucking loser" and "he's super smart though and learning from him has been awesome" and "but if he would be my dad that'd be cool." like Peter is an unreliable and a biased narrator at the same time so he thinks Tony is cool but in my eyes I know what he is. Tony is actually like "i would die for this kid" but having an emotional conversation feels like he's been asked to drag his bare ass across hot coals. he doesn't even know where to begin to accomplish that task. which is why Peter says things like "oh he doesn't say a lot of things to me about how he feels but i can read between the lines" and in his mind Tony says things that mean another thing but never are *quite* that thing. usually jokes that talk about what he means without having to say it or be vulnerable. in his POV he's freaking out that Peter is missing to the point of being physically ill about it, yet Peter couldn't imagine it's that bad or because losing *him* is the cause of that problem. that's how Irondad really is, and i can make it better because canon is my bitch now

[idliketobeatree]

to Charles, an Edwin Payne poem.

[taamlok]

I need to talk about this scene and how much it means to me as an autistic person. The things Taash describes are so, so painfully relatable to me. But really what gets me about this scene is Rook's dialogue. To be able to say me too, that I have to mask and imitating what "normal" people do in order to get by? That this is a practiced skill, and sometimes it's hard to employ? I have never, EVER seen that part of myself represented so authentically. I've had this exact conversation with my therapist during my diagnosis process. I've had this conversation with my parents, my siblings, my friends. I know the sting of when the mask slips and people you care about don't like what's underneath.

To be able to play as a character who experiences that, not as a headcanon but as a real conversation I can have in-game? For Rook to be able to connect with someone not in spite of this feeling but because of it? And for Taash to smile and say "you don't have to do that with me"... that just means everything. I'm so grateful for this character.

[starcurtain]

Just caught up with Natlan's archon quest and lord help me, I have a burning need to see Alhaitham and Ororon interact.

I truly feel that they would vibe perfectly. Not in a ship way, but like, in the way of Kaveh quietly wailing: "For archons' sake, he's brought another tacky thing into the house. Traveler, please do something; they've been staring eye to eye over the coffee table for like an hour now but haven't said a single word. I don't know what to do. Send help."

[casualavocados]

You've never done that when I got close to you before. Why? None of your business. Tell me, or you can't leave.

KISEKI: DEAR TO ME Ep. 10

[bakuliwrites]

Just to Be Held- Astarion x Reader

I’ve had this condition for two centuries, but truth be told? You were my first.

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Baldur's Gate III

Pairing: Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Reader

Tags: Discussions of sex, blood, fluff, hurt/comfort, emotional, body autonomy, Baldur's Gate III spoilers, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Affection, Gender-Neutral Tav, Astarion's POV, Tiny Kisses, In this house we cherish and love Astarion the way he deserves to be cherished and loved

Summary: Astarion and Tav share a quiet, peaceful moment together along their journey. Astarion learns that he is valued and loved. Read here or over on my AO3.

Sometimes, when Astarion drinks from you, it's overwhelming. The sensation of his teeth piercing your skin, pin-pricks in your tender flesh, warm blood welling up to greet his lips. He can feel himself drowning, every nerve ending in his body lit aflame. It's almost too much as iron bursts across his taste-buds, flooding his throat with the heat rushing through your veins. 

He drinks to sate and never in excess. He's certain that if he let himself partake in too much of you, his mind might never rest, though it is tempting at times. All the years he's spent in darkness, forced to consume the blood of pests and creatures far less appetizing than you, have left him longing for sweeter meals. But he hadn't accounted for how utterly overwhelming that might be.

When he's finished, he pulls back, breathless and overheated. It's as if he's febrile. Sometimes, he's filled with a clarity, a strength unlike anything he's ever felt before. Other times, his skin feels like it's on fire. Like with the slightest coercion, he might combust. In these moments, all he really wants is to rest. But he’s never known rest, and he’s not quite sure how to ask for such a thing. So he resorts to what he knows: teasing you with tantalizing promises of illicit rendezvous’ or making some sort of snide remark before stalking off into the night.

Sometimes, his encounters with you end in said trysts. Most often, however, they don’t. It’s almost frustrating how unbothered you seem when, after he’s done feeding from you, he doesn’t initiate anything further. You sit almost passively, waiting for Astarion to make a move, seemingly content either way the night ends. If you’re not doing this for sex, he wonders, then why the hell are you helping him at all? Surely, no thinking creature would want something so important as their blood to be taken from them without getting something in return. At least, that’s his logic for it. It almost makes him trust you less for not demanding recompense. 

So, no stranger to confrontation, Astarion decides it’s high time you gave him some sort of explanation. As you enter his tent that night, he greets you with a steely gaze, a frown deepening the lines of his face. 

“Are you alright, Astarion?” you quietly venture, boots crunching over gravel. A small branch snaps under the weight of your steps, causing you to flinch as if the rest of your party is going to hear it from where they slumber. When they don’t come bursting through the tent flaps, your shoulders relax once again and you turn back to the pale elf before you. Your furtiveness is almost endearing, Astarion realizes, and irritatingly so.

“What are you getting out of this little arrangement of ours?” he blurts, crossing his arms over his chest and passing you the most petulant gaze he can muster. He watches a look of shock pass over your face, before it settles into something pensive.

“I- I don’t know,” you mutter, “I guess- I haven’t really thought about it as something I would ‘get anything’ out of. It’s just- you need to feed. And I’m happy to provide.”

“You know, most people would expect something in return,” he reasons, dissatisfied with your answer, “It’s not as if what you’re doing is a minor inconvenience for you, like letting me borrow a hanky or something. I’m draining you of something rather necessary for you to live.”

“I mean,” you return with a shrug, looking rather flummoxed by his outburst, “It’s not like you’re taking a lot.” 

“Tsk,” he huffs, realizing he’s not going to get anywhere with this line of questioning. Perhaps asking you was a fruitless endeavor from the start. Astarion drops the subject, pouting as you settle in to let him take what he needs from you. You bare your neck to him, relaxing on his bedroll as he leans down to sink his teeth into you. It’s always the same each time: your involuntary gasp as his teeth pierce your flesh, the combination of both his and your relaxed exhales as he drinks. 

Maybe it’s the humid night air or maybe it’s his own frustration, but Astarion feels the fever in him build with each sip he takes from you. A pyretic euphoria, born of longing for blood more nourishing than what he had to resort to for two whole centuries. He feels satiated by you and it’s almost- embarrassing. He feels mortified to react so viscerally, so enthusiastically. He pulls back suddenly, watching you wince as he roughly removes himself from your neck. But the irritation on your face dissipates when you meet his gaze. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you offer, your voice so gentle, it hurts him, “You seem preoccupied.”

Astarion hardens his gaze, gritting his teeth and opting to remain silent. Of course he’s preoccupied, but it’s nothing he wants to delve into. Least of all with you. But instead you decide to pry, speaking up with a tender, “Want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly, no,” he returns, glancing sheepishly away and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, crimson smearing his pale skin. He bites the inside of his cheek, snagging it with his sharpened canine, hoping it’ll stop the stinging threat of tears in his eyes. 

“You can go now. I’m done with you,” he coldly spits, avoiding your gaze. He hears the rustle of fabric as you obediently lift yourself from his bedroll and make your way to the tent flap. But instead of opening it and leaving like you normally would, you pause, your hand grasping the fabric. 

“I like being with you,” you quietly explain, turning to face the vampire spawn, “You asked me what I get out of this arrangement of ours. Well, I just- I guess I just like you.”

Astarion frowns, arms still crossed and posture stiff as a board. But he can’t hold his silver-tongue, despite his upset. 

“Unfortunate, really,” he murmurs, unable to help the smile tugging at his lips when you laugh. 

“I don’t need to ‘get anything’ out of this time with you,” you go on, letting go of the tent flap and striding back towards him. You kneel down, eyes filled with a brightness Astarion can hardly believe is meant for him. A silence passes as you wait for him to respond. He fidgets with his hands, clenching and unclenching his fists before he finally allows his shoulders to slump and an exhausted sigh to escape his lips. His body still feels overworked, heated and unable to settle. 

“I assumed that sex was what you wanted from me,” he starts, still unable to look you in the eye, “Stupid assumption. It’s the only thing I’m-”

It’s the only thing I’m good for, he wants to say, but stops himself. 

“Well, let’s be honest,” he chuckles ruefully, trying to divert your attention from his unfinished statement, “I wanted that, too. I mean, how could I not.” He says this with a sly smile, something impish twinkling in his eyes as he sweeps over your form. But then his face falls and he casts his glance to the ground again.  

“It’s just- sex isn’t always what I want,” he finishes, “And I assumed that it’s what you wanted. So I guess I was- I don’t know- worried that you would be disappointed when we don’t tear each other apart like animals every time I feed from you.”

Another pause, this time filled with anticipation. With anxiety. For some reason, when Astarion has been around you lately, he’s found himself incapable of holding his tongue. He spills his thoughts left and right to you. It’s terrifying, the effect you seem to be having on him. It’s taken him a long time, but still, he isn’t sure he should trust you. Yet here he is, regurgitating deep-seated fears that are better left buried in the rot that’s bloomed in his mind. 

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he hears you whisper, pulling him from worry, coaxing him from the tendrils of self-hatred and disgust that have entangled him for two hundred years. He glances at you, disbelief in his crimson eyes before a rueful smile breaks his shock.

“You are far too kind to me,” he chuckles, a cocky smile on his face. 

“I mean it,” you return, brows crinkling your forehead, “We don’t even have to touch if you don’t want to. And if you don’t want to keep this arrangement anymore, that’s totally fine. I’d be happy to help you find another source of food. I won’t be hurt.” 

He eyes you suspiciously, scanning you for any hint that you might burst out laughing at some sort of cruel joke you’ve made, or some sign that you’re absolutely bullshitting him. The look you’re giving him is almost naive. He scowls, nauseated by your sincerity.

“Well, I don’t mind physical affection,” he mutters, desperately trying to hold on to his air of indifference, “Just-”

His shoulders slump as he releases a heavy sigh. He’s been worn down by your patience, worn down by years of keeping everything to himself. Here you are, offering up companionship without any expectation. Here you are, sitting in front of him, telling him that you actually, for some gods’ forsaken reason, like spending time with him and you’re not expecting any sort of compensation from him. So why is he trying so desperately to push you away?

“All I’ve ever been is used,” Astarion admits, wondering if he’ll regret this admission later. Waiting for the other shoe to drop, like it always does. “I don’t get a say in what happens to my body. I don’t get a say in what happens to me at all.” 

“Astarion,” you breathe, gently cupping his face and turning his head so he can meet your gaze. His eyes are filled with a deep sorrow, the desolation of two hundred years scarring every crimson facet of his irises. In you, he sees no ounce of malice, no smarmy flattery, or deceit. All he sees is you, offering him your kindness, offering your companionship, expecting nothing in return. 

“What do you want?” you go on, “Right here. Right now.” 

Astarion’s mouth goes dry. His blood, your blood, threads through his veins like white hot needles. His nerves feel open to the air, every brush of the wind on his skin like lightning shooting through his body. Overwhelmed. He’s so overwhelmed.

“I just want to be held,” he finally whispers, and the absolute devastation in his voice threatens to break what little composure is left in that tent. 

“I think I can do that,” you return, smiling softly. You let him take the lead, laying back on the soft bedroll beneath, waiting for him to decide what he wants to do. He sits beside you, cautious. He is raw and he is new, shivering from his overworked nerves, cold from the overpowering feeling of sweet blood in his body. 

Gently, Astarion lays his head down on your chest and tenses, unsure of what to do. When was the last time he was gifted a moment to just rest? To just lay in the arms of another? He can’t remember, and thus, he can’t even remember how to relax. He shifts uncomfortably where he lays, trying to find some position where his arm isn’t falling asleep. You give no protest, patient as he rearranges himself. Finally, he finds something suitable and goes back to resting his head on your chest. 

“I can stay as long as you’d like me to,” you offer, your voice reverberating through your body, before you both fall quiet.

In the silence, Astarion listens to the powerful thrum of your heart, the way it beats in rhythm to an unsung tune. He hears the air constrict in your lungs when he first rests his head upon you, before you let out a deep, comforting sigh. Crickets chirp in a jovial dissonance beyond the fabric of the tent and a wolf howls sorrowfully somewhere in the distance. 

Astarion can still taste the metal of your blood on his tongue. He can smell it rushing through your veins, nourishing and enticing. It mingles with the faint smell of whatever makes you you, whatever pleasant natural musk you have that has become so comfortingly familiar over the months. The curling smoke of the fire outside has woven itself into your clothing, though it is not unpleasant in scent. 

Astarion glances up at you from where he lays, studying your serene face. Your eyes are closed, eyelashes feathering shadows on your cheeks. Your mouth is parted ever so slightly as you doze, lips evoking pleasant memories of the way they’ve felt against his skin in nights past. He lets his eyes rove for a moment, searching the tent ceiling as if he’ll find something particularly interesting up there. He doesn’t, except for a small hole he’ll have to patch, come morning. Though, it is nice to see a couple twinkling stars peeking through the broken fabric. 

As his eyes flutter shut, Astarion feels the heat from your body, cozy and benevolent. He presses further into you, wanting desperately to feel your closeness. In response, your arm wraps around him, pulling him nearer. Your nails tickle his back as you rub small circles into it. Snowy ringlets caress his forehead when a breeze picks up the fine strands of his hair. The earth beneath him isn’t terribly comfortable, but between you and the bedroll, he doesn’t much care. 

For the first time in two centuries, Astarion thinks he might feel peace. It’s very possible, he decides, that in this quiet moment, he feels safe. In your arms, he could let down his defenses. Wrapped in your warmth, Astarion could allow himself to be vulnerable. 

He slips his hand into yours, intertwining your fingers, quietly whispering that he’d like it if you stayed the rest of the night.

"Also, if you could possibly not tell the others about this?" he adds, somewhat jokingly, "Can't let them think I've gone soft."

"Your secret's safe with me," you chuckle, before smiling softly at him and pressing a tender kiss to the top of his head. He lets the feeling wash over him, calm and comfort him. When his body settles, when his mind finally manages to quiet, Astarion lets his eyelids fall shut. He lets you envelope him in your embrace. He lets himself sleep, knowing he’s safe with you. Astarion lets himself dream, and they’re the first pleasant dreams he’s had in centuries.  

A/N: I normally do a banner for my fics, but I really wanted to use this gif I had made of one of my favorite Astarion cutscenes. It's where he admits to Tav that they're the first "thinking creature," as he puts it, that he's ever drank from. The line delivery is incredible, the way Astarion looks away is so heartbreaking and endearing. This small moment of vulnerability is one of the first ones we see from him and it just feels so special. I wanted to write a fic exploring how he might feel in regards to Tav letting him have the freedom of feeding from them. And I wanted to explore the idea that Astarion might find it odd if Tav doesn't expect anything in return. There's a later line in one of his cutscenes where he's very obviously self-conscious about the fact that he and Tav haven't been intimate in a while. His sense of self and value is so contingent on the fact that his body has been used for two hundred years. I wanted to write something for Astarion that would give him a peace, gentility, and rest, without sexual intimacy. Anyway, I could ramble on and on about this forever. Perhaps I need to make a longer post about it, so I'll get on that.

[batw1nggg]

rage

[rainbowreindeer]

[constellarcreator]

Been thinking about my headcanon of post-loops Siffrin being disabled with chronic pain a lot

I subscribe to the idea of the whole timeloop situation taking a very abnormally huge amount of craft to keep going. I mean, Sif was literally breaking the fabric of reality itself possibly hundreds of times. That much intense craft use could very likely cause some permanent internal damage to somebody. So after everything is said and done I headcanon that Siffrin develops significant chronic pain and fatigue from what is essentially long-term craft exhaustion. They end up needing a cane, have longer cooldown times for craft use, and generally need to lay down and sleep a lot more than they used to. And since this is Siffrin we're talking about, they'll definitely take this really hard, at least at first. Sif is used to being the party leader for his speed and agility, so having that taken from him is a huge hit to his self-worth. Sif values his usefulness to people very highly and one of their biggest hangups is the idea of being burdensome, and they subsequently hate making people worry about them. Initially his first instinct is to try to power through it in typical Siffrin fashion, but after a little while it gets to be too much to bear alone and so he confides in the fam about his health concerns. And they are of course as supportive as they always were. They're all willing to slow down and help out whenever needed. Get loved!!!!!! You are loved!!!!!!!!!!!!