#I kin him every time I hurt my characters

[crimsonmonsoon]

People who are reading my fic because they either liked the designs I posted on tumblr and/or they want better characters and plot from mlb:

Me giving Alya the most trauma of any of the characters:

(My fic is Miracle Box: a Miraculous Rewrite, btw if you wanna read it and haven’t yet)

[katyspersonal]

Tumblr sorta needs a 'Mute' feature in my opinion. Like what if I don't want to block this user, what if I don't want to become enemies and in some days I'd like to interact. But also most of the time seeing how they avidly encourage everyone else whereas I get the passive-aggressive 'oh yeah very uhh... interesting... (please leave me alone I don't like your art lol)' makes me want to unfollow every single fan of these characters and never draw them again.

I remember two years ago the exact same thing happened when someone liked the same character and the same ship and I swear I was the only person in the fandom they bluntly left out and could not spare a single good word for. I can't even blame this on my art being "ugly" because this type of user always aggressively praises all art styles and all levels of skill, it feels more like 'a personal thing except we never fought a single time'. And now my toxic trait of needing approval from [cool person name] is back to haunt me years later! Add the unability to "abandon" this character/ship/whatever despite wanting to after facing so much unspoken passive spite, because I am a contrarian and the best way to trap me into doing something is to try to exclude me from it. I didn't face attempts to very aggressively bully me out of the yard/class/community/etc, sometimes with physical violence included, only to let something mid like passive aggression online finally do it.

I am really stupid and naive person despite my age, but in like 5% of the cases I will still understand the hint and understand what is going on. Yet I have to pretend to be clueless even in rare situations when I know someone hates me, because since they never admitted it, quitting will be perceived as me being "paranoid". But dear goooood, it hurts sometimes. I hope that one day I will be numbed to being treated as a tumor on an otherwise healthy body of society that someone is dying to amputate- and always a person whose approval I want, of all people. Knowing that this day will come is one of the things that keep me going as both a person and a creator. Things like viruses and diseases still try their best to persist, so even if I am actually one, I should persist. It doesn't matter whether I actually rot everything around me or this is just my self-depreciating delusion upon focusing on people that mistreated me and not people that loved me. What matters is persisting, I just still feel angry that it hurts. I can't respond spite with spite or passive aggression with passive aggression, I can't do the 'smug asshole' when I become aware that someone tries to starve me until I "die". I can just fall over and cry about it like a kicked dog, despite being so old, especially when it is a person I didn't have anything against.

And really.. It is as simple as turning the internet off, so I don't see The Person and can focus on doing stuff that I like, as if they never existed and can't crash my self-esteem. It is just annoying to keep doing this, a feature to not see them unless I am in the mood would be better. Like.. blocking is not an option. Not only it implies being enemies which is not my intention, but also it will be like an "evidence" that I was "crazy". They didn't do anything, right? Well, they know what they did, but it was never verbal, so it is my fault I "imagined things", right?

[mothwingwritings]

BTD/TPOF Valentine's Gifts To You~<3

Look I know Valentine’s was days ago but it’s one of my favorite holidays and I have no chill, so you all have to deal with the residual now. (*-`ω´- )人

THAT BEING SAID- here's a little 'what kinds of gifts/experiences the Boyfriend To Death/The Price Of Flesh crew would lavish you with on Valentine's day' imagine, let’s gooo!!! I hope you all enjoy!

18+ ONLY PLEASE!!!

Warnings: Abuse, implied past kidnapping, reader getting hurt, torture, noncon, dubcon, (please forgive the pun but) horrible people taking a stab at an ounce of ‘affection’ and mostly just making things more dreadful for you.

I hope you all enjoy! ˘³˘

✧:･ﾟ( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ ) ･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ ) ･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ ) ･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

Ren🦊- Will actually get you a sweet gift, something that he put time and thought into. Chocolates, a stuffed animal, a cute outfit, a figure of your favorite game/anime character that you have been eying, maybe even all of the above if he has the budget (honestly probably all of the above even if he doesn’t have the budget). He’ll present it really cutely too, like rose petal’s littering the ground leading you to the room where all the gifts are neatly displayed, giving a little ‘tah-dah!’ as soon as you discover them. He gets really excited watching you open them, explaining his reasoning behind each and every item he purchased/made you.

“All the chocolates in store looked boring, so I decided to make you some! I added your favorite ingredients, so I hope you like them!”

“This stuffed fox was too cute to leave behind and, well… I was hoping maybe it would sort of remind you of me? Anyway, I couldn’t leave the store without him! He belongs snuggled in your arms, just like I do!”

Just be mindful that in return he’s probably gonna put on a ‘cute romance anime’ of his choosing to end the night and that ‘cute romance anime’ is 100% just going to be hentai. From there, one thing will lead to another and he’ll make sure he gets a nice Valentine’s gift too. :) Oh, and if you don't like any of the gifts... It's best just to keep it to yourself. He'd hate to have to ruin the nice time you are having on this great holiday because you are being ungrateful.

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Lawrence🪴- Flowers is a no brainer, but he doesn’t want to give you something that’s too cliché or that you’ll just throw in a vase to watch slowly die. After mulling it over he decides to give you something with a little more meaning-a plant from his collection that he planted and grew himself. He would most likely pick something like an aglaonema (its valentine colored, right?) or some kind of succulent because they are easier to take care of. He’s a little worried that you are gonna find such a gift weird or see it as a hassle, that no matter how little maintenance the plant takes you’ll just let it end up dying regardless. But he supposes if anything this will be a good test of your bond-will you cherish and nurture the gift he gives you, or will you discard it and let it wither? Don’t make the wrong choice here, it would break his heart. (And your life honestly depends on it.)

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Strade🔪- You were dreading what kind of ‘present’ this man would concoct for you on Valentine’s day, but to your complete surprise he actually prepares something shockingly thoughtful for you. He’s set up a nice little homemade dinner for the two of you in the living room, complete with mood lighting (you hoped he didn’t have any surprise uses for the candles that burned around you), nice dishes and silverware (a rare luxury, considering how he usually makes you eat your food) and some wild flowers he had picked from out in the yard (did they have thorns? Were you gonna find that out the hard way?). The dinner itself is one of your favorite meals, and while it was maybe a tad bit overcooked and plated sloppily, it still tasted incredibly good. The catch? Well, I mean you have to have some kind of entertainment while you eat, right? Good thing Strade has a plethora of ‘home videos’ on deck to enjoy with you while you have your lovely little feast. Maybe watching them will spark something between you two, it’s certainly going to put him in the mood to reenact them with you. It’s Valentine’s Day afterall, why not have a little fun? <3

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Celia👩‍💼- It really just depends on her mood or what is happening the day of. You may end up getting  something nice, a little reward from her for being such a good and obedient pet.  She’ll gift you something thoughtful and sweet, like a nice piece of jewelry, expensive chocolate, or finely aged wine that costs more than you make in an entire month. She’ll be relaxed and pleased as she watches you enjoy her gift, taking satisfaction in how easy it was for her to delight you. On the other hand, if she is in a horrible mood or (god forbid) was forced to spend the holiday with her husband, the only thing you are going to be receiving is the brunt of her frustrations. If he bought her chocolates she’d force you to eat them all in one go, prying your mouth open to shove them in herself if you refuse to do it on your own, cramming them in until you nearly choke. If he bought her flowers she’d flog you with the bouquet, rose thorns tearing into your flesh until you were left in a pile of petals and your own blood, body littered with lacerations and angry red welts. Whatever half assed gift she was given or horrible date she was put through, has now become your problem as she uses you as an outlet for her resentment. And for the final celebratory Valentine’s act, she’d use you however she saw fit to get off (because she sure as hell isn’t getting any pleasure anywhere else tonight). Mine as well make the most of her time with her little sweetheart before she’s forced to go back and face whatever is waiting for her back home. You understand, right honey?

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Derek🦂- Honestly he forgets it’s Valentine’s Day, but it really doesn’t matter. He wasn’t going to go out of his way to get you anything or do anything for you anyway. If anything, he’d buy something for himself that he can either use on you or force you into for his own personal amusement. Some kind of constricting, demeaning latex gimp suit, or maybe a new whip he can assault you with. The more it hurts or humiliates you the better, because nothing brings him more pleasure than watching you suffer and squirm. Regardless of if he remembers the holiday or not, he’ll probably just spend the day mocking, assaulting, and/or torturing you anyway-once he recognizes the date, he may even go a little harder than usual as a treat to himself.  What are you gonna do, cry because your ‘Valentine’ is being mean to you? Hearing you beg, curse, moan, and scream in agony over all that he’s putting you through only makes it better, sweetheart. Like music to his ears! Even though it’s far from your intention, you are the best Valentine he’s ever had and though he won’t admit it, he’s thankful to you for that. Then again, maybe the holiday is just making him feel particularly sappy… Has he ever told you how pretty your tear stained face looks when you are choking on his dick, struggling to breathe as he forces himself down your throat? He’ll have to take a picture to show you next time.

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Mason🌲- He’s not very well versed with the ‘typical’ things people want or do for Valentine’s Day, and quite honestly, he finds it all rather obnoxious. To him it’s just some big show, a way for corporations to profit off people’s affections and sex drives to get them to spend money on cheap tokens of affection. Flower bouquets? They’ll just die. Stuffed animals? There’s no point to them. Jewelry? Useless baubles. No, the TRUE way to show your love for someone is through an EXPERIENCE. And what better experience is there then the thrill of nature? Maybe that makes him seem like a one trick pony- he did first meet you by purchasing you for his hunt, after all. But things were different now, you have proven yourself to him, proven that you have the know-how to survive out in the wilds. Now that you mastered it, you can truly enjoy it. He can tell you still didn’t really trust him (and honestly he isn’t sure you ever truly will) but he has faith you’ll eventually come around to this new way of life with him. He loves taking you out hunting and camping, the excitement he feels stalking his prey, the sense of purpose and connection he experiences living off of nature’s bounty, he’s found its much more enjoyable with you by his side. He hopes you feel it too- the buzz coursing through the air as he finally corners his quarry, how rousing it is when you land the final blow and get to drag your prize back home. He makes you watch as he skins and cleans them, finding importance in the act. You need to witness him doing his craft, learn from him, and really understand that you’re relying on him for your survival. Afterall it’s just the two of you out here now, it’s better to get used to it sooner rather than later. Come on, it’s time you took part in helping him prepare his slaughter. After you are done he’ll use the meat to cook you something nice, or prepare you some jerky so you’ll have something to snack on. This lifestyle is his ongoing gift to you, darlin’. Happy Valentine’s Day. ฅ՞•ﻌ•՞ฅ

[itscherrylipsforme]

Everything fits into place: Oliver Quick x fem!reader

Part 1 here

Summary: After having fallen in love with you at an Oxford's library, Oliver planned everything out until he could have you wrapped around his fingers. Now that your school year is over, you have been invited to spend the firsts months of Summer in Saltburn. You were certainly not expecting what you found there, but don't worry, Ollie was already three steps ahead

Warnings: Post Saltburn fic, a little bit dark (it’s Oliver, what you expected?), age gap (he is around 15-17 years older), slightly innocent kin? (A little bit spicy, but nothing really sexual)

Requested: yes

Words: Something between 700-800 words

Author's rambles: As I have seen that people somehow enjoyed my shitty writing I decided to make part two. Hope you like it!

Masterlist Characters I write for

Likes and reblogs are appreciated ღ

I do not authorize any of my works to be copied, translated or plagiarized ✗

Oliver hadn't told you much about Saltburn, you could only gather the crumbs of information he left once in a while. A beautiful big home in the northwest that he had inherited from a woman he considered to be kind of his "second mother" after she passed away, that was all that you knew about it. Once he also he mentioned that she had met her through her son, who had been in Ollie's year in uni, that had committed suicide when both of them were young. All of that seemed like tragic memories that your boyfriend tried to bury in his past, so you didn't want to dig much on it not to hurt him.

But during the three hours long car ride that you had to do from Oxford to your Summer destination, you were expecting that at least he could describe it with more the detail. To your surprise he didn't and when the two of you arrived at the mansion he was able to call "home" now, just surprised was not the exact word you would use to describe what you were feeling. When the maid who had opened the doors of that palace to the two of you was ordered to dismiss by "Mr Quick" as they referred him, you couldn't help but ask.

"Why didn't you tell me you were practically living like a prince, Ollie?"

"Had to make sure you truly loved me and weren't after my money, darling" He answered plainly and tried to change the subject "Come on, let me show you the place"

"You know I am not like that" You protested. Maybe you wouldn't go as far as saying that you were offended, but you would be lying if you said his words didn't hurt a little at least.

You trusted him with every piece of your heart and soul. Told him all your secrets and all the times you had lost all your hope. You loved him enough to talk about it when you fell like nothing more like some broken mess that no one, not even him, could fix. And yet he couldn't do the same? Couldn't he trust enough for this until now Somehow Oliver managed to read your thoughts from the expression of worry on your face

"My beautiful beautiful y/n I am aware of It now. But trust me, I know better than anyone else how far people can go to gain power, I needed to be sure" His eyes seemed to darken a little for a few brief second lost in his mind until he came back and rested his hand sweetly on your cheek "How can I apologize to my beloved girlfriend for putting her through a trial?"

"Well, one of the few things you did tell me about this place was that it had a library" A little grin played on your lips while he held your hand and guided you through the maze that mansion was.

Four weeks later, you two were laying in the bed you have been sharing during your stay. His arm around your waist a little bit too tight, as you had learned he liked, and your head resting on the crock of his neck. It was one of those lazy mornings that you could spend peacefully in each other embrace.

"You know every day for the rest of our life could be like this" His nose and lips dancing dangerously close to your face as his hand rubbed your back up and down.

"Ollie, that was a funny one" A small giggle echoed in the room.

"I am serious y/n" His big blue eyes glued to you as he started kissing, your forehead, your cheek, your lips... "We could sooner than later. Marry, have you in my bed each morning, and maybe a few kids around if you are up for it. Doesn't it sound good for your"

"I need to finish my degree first, Ollie" His lips now on your neck, and gosh he knew pretty well that you couldn't say no to anything when he did those kind of things.

"Of course you have that, I am not saying otherwise" Actually, you didn't need to finish it, once you were his you wouldn't have to work a single day in your life. But if you wished to gain your diploma to be happy, he wouldn't dare to say otherwise. "Maybe after you graduated, what do you think about?"

You just smiled at his sweet trail of kisses, and he took it as a yes. Soon enough you would be tied forever, soon enough you would be his wife, soon enough you two would be better than the Cattons have ever been. Soon enough, everything from his plan would fit into place.

[petit-etoile]

Astarion/Tav prompt (or Reformed Durge): "I would have you smile again. You will live to see these days renewed. No more despair." I know it's a Lord of the Rings quote but gosh if it doesn't remind me of them ;-;

this  is  the  end  of  the  world ( a  time  for  something  biblical  )

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount: 5,219 content warnings: canonical mentions of death, spoilers for the dark urge storyline & astarion's act iii romance, graphic mentions of injuries, references to cann.ibalism as a metaphor for love, mental health issues & physical ramifications from the tadpole + rejecting bhaal, i highly recommend listening to the exogenesis symphony by muse other tags: canon compliant,  canon-typical violence,  character study,  introspection,  hurt/comfort,  whump,  canon temporary character death,  the dark urge as player character,  codependency,  religious imagery & symbolism,  p.orn with plot archiveofourown: here.

tag list: @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils,@8-opossums, @worryknotdear, @abirdaboxandachippedcup, @ghosts-and-ink, @b4um3pfl4um3, @gunslingerorchid, @hypopxia,  @m0ssytrees, @erysione, @odette-attackattack, @catching-fire-in-the-wind, @ashrio20, @wills-mental-illness, @queenofcarrotflowers-s, @kirahlene be added to the taglist here

summary:  ‘Stay,’ Astarion says weakly. ‘I don’t want to be alone.’

‘Your life is mine,’ he says, cruel eyes gazing at you. ‘Accept your inheritance, or I will reclaim it.’

‘I would rather die,’ you say.

His hateful eyes narrow dangerously. It was never a good idea to betray a god, nonetheless one who had created you so lovingly. His voice is a low growl when he dismisses you  —  and suddenly, white-hot pain shoots through your veins and threatens to swallow you whole. Bhaal raises his hand and your blood obeys.

‘You were made to conquer,’ he snarls. ‘To devour!’

‘I don’t need any of this,’ you spit out. ‘I don’t need you. The only family  —  I know are those who fight by my side! I will not be what you made me!’

The sickness in your belly surges until you think it will overcome you. You stagger forward until your knees hit the stone floor. Bhaal is forcing you to submit, to become what he had made Orin. This thing won’t have you, Astarion whispers against the curve of your ear. It won’t win. You’ve got this, darling. And I’ve got you. You want to believe him, but your blood-kin has done damage beyond repair. What were children beyond the sins of their father?

‘You reject my blood?’ Bhaal asks.

‘Yes,’ you whisper.

‘Then I shall reclaim it,’ he says, his promise a growl in his throat.

You were your father’s seed cultivated to perfection by determination and bravery. Now, you were nothing more than a disappointment to be snuffed out root and stem. You choke on the warmth in your throat. Your veins seem to have exploded beneath your skin. You sneeze, red oozing from every orifice.

‘I will make another who is worthy,’ says Bhaal, lifting his hand.

As he raises his hand, you are forced to kneel. Every single one of your muscles contracts in agony. The others might be shouting but you can hardly hear them over the roaring in your ears. Your blood is rejecting you. Festering inside your flesh like a disease. Like the skeleton carved into the wall, you weep blood down your neck. No matter how hard you try to close your eyes to prevent it, your rich ichor abandons you.

No, you want to tell him. The rot of his blood will end with you as it had with Orin. The abomination of murder will never set forth and harm another. You reach for the dagger at your hip and raise it, but the Avatar of Bhaal dissipates before you can strike. The weight of your body collapses  forward.

Like a wounded beast, you keen loudly, shaking your head as if that will free your ears from the blood inside of them. You were born from this blood. You were created by this blood to be who you are today. Rejecting it should be like a sin  —  but if sin is a seed, you have eaten it willingly from the hand of mortality. If Bhaal is to reject you, then you will reject his godhood.

You close your eyes as blood overtakes your sight. You press your forehead into the stone to fight your fever. You shiver and gasp. You gargle on the proof of vitriol and lean into the chilled floor, resigned to your fate. At least you wouldn’t become a mindflayer…

“No!” Astarion wails. Your heart shatters. ‘No, please  —  Not you!’

I’m sorry, you say. You close your eyes and remember the color of the sun in his hair. I didn’t mean for this to happen. This isn’t what I wanted. Your fingers curl against the stone, and then  —  There’s nothing. Astarion touches the sleepless bruises beneath your eyes with such tenderness you forget his strength. You lean your cheek into his palm and sigh sleepily, but even as exhaustion overtakes your body, you shudder. You’re afraid to sleep, to dream. You don’t want to hurt anyone else ever again.

‘You have to rest, my love,’ he murmurs. He allows you to lay on his hand as though it were a pillow. ‘When was the last time you slept through the night?’

‘I’m not sure,’ you confess.

‘I might be a sleepless creature of the night,’ Astarion says, ‘but you… You needn’t fear your dreams when I am here. I’ll protect you no matter the cost.’

‘And who will protect you if I sleep?’ you ask.

You must be frowning, because Astarion uses his other hand to soothe the crease between your eyebrows. He sounds so outrageously heartbroken that you want to cry. You don’t want him to think he isn’t a comfort… You haven’t slept beside someone in so long, and the warmth of his body has always lulled you to your dreams peacefully until recently.

Astarion swallows thickly. ‘I’m not afraid of you. I’m not afraid of this. I’m with you forever and always.’

But what if there isn’t an always?

‘There is always a future for you and I,’ Astarion vows. ‘Now sleep. He can’t control you as long as I’m around.’ When you open your eyes again, you’re greeted by the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. His eyes are a soft cerise, and his cheeks are high and sleek, his lips plump and his hair soft and curled. An angel. You’re unable to control the way you reach your hand to touch his cheek, smearing a crystalline tear across his wan skin.

‘Who are you?’ you whisper, voice caught painfully in your throat.

‘Hush now, my love,’ he whispers. He presses a sweet kiss to your mouth, and when he pulls away, his lips are ruddy and wet. ‘Thank the gods… I thought I had lost you.’

Oh, you think. You remember now. This is the man from your dream… You try to recall the details of how you know him, but it’s hard to follow a train of thought. You turn from side to side. It’s so hard to move, to focus. Your limbs feel as though they are made of lead and marble. Everything aches. The tips of your fingers and your nails down to the little bones in your toes. Your head, though, is the only part of you free from intense pain. It’s as though a weight has been lifted from the veil of your memories. You rest your arm across your waist, too tired to keep it lifted.

‘Who…’ Your brows furrow in confusion. ‘Who am I?’

‘I know you were once a child full of life and love,’ the angel says to you, gently cradling your face in his hands. ‘I know one day you were afraid and unsure and half-mad. I know you stained the streets red with cruelty and devised a plan larger than all of Faerûn. But I know you are strong and that your heart is good. You saved the tieflings, and you saved the refugees, and now you will save the world that threatens to be plunged into darkness.’

You smile. ‘That doesn’t sound like me at all,’ you confess.

The angel shakes his hand, fingers pressing hard into your skin. His voice breaks. ‘But I know it to be true, so you must believe my every word. You are brave. You are kind. You are good. You are my love, and I know that I am loved by you in return. You are a protector,’ he tells you. ‘You have protected everyone, and now it is time to protect yourself. You have survived two gods and now you must survive a third.’

The knot in your throat grows larger with every word. You think you remember now. Yes, you can remember it all very clearly. You know the weight of his hands like baptism. You turn your cheek and kiss his palm, smudging his skin pink.

‘Astarion,’ you whisper.

Your love smiles down at you, your blood dribbling down his chin.

‘What happened?’

‘Let’s not worry about that,’ he shushes you, massaging the bruises beneath your eyes. ‘Come, let us get you cleaned up.’

‘I don’t think I can walk yet,’ you say. Admitting it makes you feel weak.

‘Don’t worry,’ Astarion says softly. ‘I can carry you.’

‘I will bloody your clothes,’ you say.

‘Bloody them,’ Astarion says. ‘I don’t care.’

Astarion does carry you. He carries you all the way back to the inn, to a private room just the two of you share. He orders a tub to bathe you in and then takes an hour to scrub your skin clean, carefully cleaning your gore from your hair and scalp.

You watch as Astarion passes a bar of soap against the skin of the top of your arm over and over again until it is red then pink then flesh. Then, he gently twists your wrist. He cleans the underside of your arm next, and your palm. He washes your fingers until they do nothing but shake in the cold air. You curl your fingers around his.

‘Was it hard?’ you ask him.

‘I will never forget the smell of your scent,’ Astarion replies.

He moves to wash the hollow between your collarbones, encouraging you to recline in the water. He washes your chest and your stomach until his grief washes over him in waves. His chin shakes until a sob escapes. He presses his face into your hair and wails softly into your crown. When he’s done weeping, Astarion returns to his cleansing. He speaks not of it again. There is so little of you left.

You often wonder how much of your brain is left between the parasite and the hole your father has left you. Sometimes Jaheira still looks at you as though the rot of your father isn’t entirely gone. You don’t blame her. You’re waiting for your control to snap. You were good once. You could be good again. You want to be good again.

Shadowheart smiles at you now. Lae’zel no longer frowns. Even Wyll has taken up eating beside you again when it’s nighttime and the adventure can go no more. Gale pours you an extra serving of wine. He says you need it. Karlach lets you hold Clive at night when Astarion goes hunting, and he goes hunting often now. It makes you wonder if your blood is vile.

Part of you wants to ask him if you’ve done something wrong. You’ve committed no crime, but you feel like you have. Your memories of before are slipping away. Your memories of now seem to do the same.

You wait in your tent that night for Astarion to return, your blanket pulled around your head and shoulders. You rehearse what you’re going to say. You want to reassure him you’re not angry. You just…feel loss. Empty. The loneliness nips at your bones like crows at carrion.

When Astarion slips inside, he looks guilty. It almost makes you want to change your mind, but you have to know. You feel as though you’re going mad. A flightless bird trapped in a cage. Like Dame Aylin trapped in Shadowfell. He refuses to meet your gaze.

‘Have I done something  —  ’

‘You,’ Astarion says through gritted teeth, ‘are perfect. Every time.’

You want to cry. ‘Then why do you avoid me?’

‘Avoid you?’ Astarion repeats incredulously. He looks at you now despairingly. ‘No, that isn’t what this is at all. I would never avoid you.’

‘You’re hunting more often,’ you say in a low tone, a whisper. Accusatory.

‘Can you blame me?’ he asks plainly.

It’s your turn to look away in shame. ‘If it’s too much, you should sleep somewhere else.’

‘I don’t want to be apart from you,’ Astarion says.

‘Then how do we fix this?’

‘You cannot fix what is not broken.’

‘Astarion,’ you plead. ‘Hold me or  —  I don’t know who I am anymore.’

Astarion wraps his arms around you before you can say another word. His lips are like a halo against your head. Each kiss he presses against your scalp is a prayer from a sinner. You turn your cheek, and he kisses you so passionately it makes your empty head spin.

You relearn who are you in his arms that night. And as he regales you with tales of your history, you think you can imagine them in your mind’s eye. He kisses your wrist. He tells you a happy memory when he kisses the curve of your belly, and when he kisses your ankle, he promises you that everything will be worth it.

It wasn’t you that was the problem. There wasn’t a problem, not really. Only an impiety he wanted to atone for. He struggles with telling you, but when he whispers it against your thigh, you understand.

‘Your blood,’ he says, voice strained. ‘I cannot escape the smell.’

‘I’m sorry,’ you say, but he shakes his head and his hair tickles your sensitive skin.

‘No, I  —  It is my shame,’ he confesses. ‘I’ll admit I’m a lech.’

Astarion struggles to put his words in a coherent structure. When you died, he was horrified and distraught. Only the gods know how hard he wept seeing you lifeless. Yet it was his vampiric nature that had betrayed him almost as much as your life’s blood had betrayed you. He felt hunger.

How could he be sad when he was so ravenous? Was he not an evil man, or is this what made him evil? That, in all of his beautiful tears and lamentation, the urge to devour you, bones and all, nearly consumed him? Your death was horrible, ugly, wretched. Your death was beautiful and coveted.

Astarion devours you again that night, mouthing and licking and sucking at your swollen core. He makes you a martyr in his grief. His tongue teases you over and over again. When you’ve climaxed once, Astarion seeks out to make you do it again until your legs are shaking violently and your voice has gone hoarse. He doesn’t take you that night, not in the traditional way, but he swallows you up regardless.

It isn’t until afterwards when he’s laying with his head on your chest that you understand his tragedy. It’s a misfortunate impossibility trying to grieve when you can’t stop salivating. Astarion thinks you’re horrified by the admission, but after knowing your past, it was hard to feel scandalized by anything.

You pet his curls away from his face, watching as he listens to the hum of your heartbeat. He might have it memorized by now, but each time it beats, Astarion’s eyelashes flutter with admiration. It is a hymn, a doxology, a liturgy that only he knows the words to. After all, he wrote them on your skin and immortalized them forevermore. He is so beautiful, you think, when there is no trouble to be seen.

You were once both trapped by your dark god’s design. You had set yourself free. You had sprouted the wings of a swan guided by the empathy you had planted in a garden as a child. It would be Astarion’s soon, and you would carry him in compassion until the thorn crown was placed upon his brow.

Astarion’s eyes are closed. In your perpetually confused state, you mistake him for having fallen asleep and resort to doing the same. The city becomes chilly at night and your skin is decorated with gooseflesh. He rises almost immediately and you try to chase after him, fingers piercing through a ghost.

‘I wasn’t going anywhere,’ Astarion says immediately. He drags his cape from the corner of the tent and lays it across your shins. ‘You were shivering.’

‘I’m not used to this  —  ’ Will my mind ever be the same? ‘  —  chill.’

‘I will be here,’ he promises. ‘Here, let me hold you for the night.’

You clumsily trade places with him, and he tucks your blanket and his cape around your body as tightly as he can. He kisses you passionately and you taste your familiarity in his mouth. It’s so sweet that you sigh. ‘I know what you did,’ Orin says hatefully, spitefully, cruelly. Her voice is like honey.

‘What have I done?’

‘Did you think I wouldn’t know?’ she asks. ‘Filthy rotten blood-kin undeserving of our father’s gift!’

You repeat yourself. ‘What have I done?’

‘You,’ Orin spits, ‘think your grey matter deserves to be loved! I should carve it out! I should make it disgusting and sticky again! Split it’s skull open! You foul traitor!’

Slowly, you pull Orin into your chest. You hug her and smooth her hair down her back. Her arms wrap around you begrudgingly until the lovingkindness causes her to rupture. She sobs into your neck hideously, clinging to you. She wails and she wails until you are both children again staring up at your grandsire for approval.

‘It isn’t fair,’ Orin tells you, hiccuping. She wipes her nose with her fingers. ‘It isn’t fair.’

‘I love you, blood-kin,’ you say. You kiss the top of her head.

‘Slaughter kin,’ she says sadly. She holds your hand with her snotty palm.

‘Sister,’ you say. In the coming weeks, your mind hardly gets better. Memories are still missing. You catch yourself gazing at the mirror longer than you expect to. You used to be so beautiful. It’s hard to recognize the face staring back at you. You touch one cheek and then the other. You turn your head and watch your jawline.

No, it still isn’t you.

You take the knife in your belt to your hair and begin cutting away pieces you don’t remember. You lean forward and smudge your eyes before sitting up straight and trying again. You recognize a part of yourself. You chase that feeling. You press your hand against your heart. You smile faintly. Astarion sobs so hard you think you might lose yourself. You’re at a loss of what to do. He’s alive but he keens like a dying deer. It’s supposed to be healing, you think. Cazador is dead. His reign of terror should end. Astarion is saved and he saved himself. You couldn’t be prouder of him.

Slowly, you step forward one foot after another. You collapse to your knees at his side. It’s easy to pull Rhapsody from his fingers. You drop it by his side. Slowly, as if in a dream, you hold him like you held Orin. Astarion sobs harshly into your collarbone and clings to you so tightly you might break.

‘I thought  —  I thought  —  ’ he cries brokenly.

I thought it would make me feel better, he says without saying. You shush him and pet his hair. Cazador’s blood smears against your cheek when Astarion burrows his face into your neck. You let him linger. You aren’t sure how long you sit on the hard marbled floors, but when you stand up, your knees creak so loud you’re almost insecure about it.

This time, it’s your turn to carry Astarion. He won’t let you pick him up, but you hold him by his waist. You carry him past your allies, past the onlookers who once saw you in opposition. You order the maids to bring you a bath, and as Astarion hiccups in the water, you bathe him.

You wash the taint of Cazador from his body. The soap cleans the dirt and the blood and the memory. You wash his chest and his belly and Astarion thanks you hoarsely. He looks at you, and his eyes are so wide and beautiful that you cry too.

Dying isn’t easy. It isn’t beautiful or romantic or a sweeping gesture. Dying is painful and hideous and ugly, and you have saved Astarion from a lifetime of torment. Rather, he did it by himself with your help. You swipe the soap against his cheeks and use a rag to clear it away. Astarion’s hair is somehow curlier when it’s wet, and you part the curls so they’ll dry without tangling.

Astarion watches you miserably as you towel his hair. You wipe droplets of water off his skin and slowly slide him into his smallclothes. He accepts your blanket and wraps it around his shoulders, staring at the wooden floor, at his feet.

‘Stay,’ Astarion says weakly. ‘I don’t want to be alone.’

‘I would never let you be alone,’ you say.

It isn’t what you bought the room for. Really, you only wanted to wipe the blood from his face but now, you climb into the sheets next to Astarion and hold him tightly. He doesn’t seem to want to talk about the future. He doesn’t want to talk about his siblings either or the thousands of spawn waiting to hang on his every word.

And you can’t even blame him. The gods know how long it took for your tongue to become free from the weight that held it still after you betrayed your father. Karlach said you talked a lot before, but now it’s hard to say anything without wondering if your words are in the right order. Astarion cries softly as if to not awaken you from your slumber, but you can’t fall asleep. You can’t toss or turn either, but dreams evade you.

Dawn peeks through the window. Dawn-bringer, Jergal had called you. You slide out of bed carefully then and cross the room. You draw the curtains shut. Astarion watches you curiously from where he burrows in the sheets. His brow furrows adorably when you climb back into bed and plaster yourself to his spine.

‘Ah,’ you say monotonously. ‘The sun is gone. I suppose we'll stay in until it returns.’

After a day of lounging, Astarion still isn’t ready to talk about what’s on his mind but he watches you do your favorite mundane mortal things with explicit interest. He has you read the book you’re reading aloud, and if it takes you a few hours to struggle through one chapter, he says nothing about it.

Every once in a while, another one of your companions comes to sit in.

Lae’zel tries to commend Astarion for his warrior’s heart without sounding stilted, but eventually she gives up on complimenting him to sympathetically let him know she understands. They had all seen Vlaakith. Karlach brings Clive by and carefully arranges him in the bed next to Astarion. She tells him that he’s fucking awesome and asks permission to hug him.

The touch nearly sends him spiraling.

Gale approaches in his usual manner. He brings Astarion a bottle of wine spiked with blood and lets him know he’s available to chat whenever Astarion feels up to it. Wyll spends thirty minutes apologizing for the bad blood between them, which is funny considering their bickering was hardly vitriolic. Shadowheart visits and gifts him a perfume that makes his lip wobble dangerously.

Jaheira, Minsc, Boo and Halsin come together solemnly. They might be the least offensive of the bunch. Boo gives Astarion a thousand kisses on his cheeks, and Jaheira finally tells them a story of her youth. Halsin has Astarion drink a potion, not because he’s injured physically, but because it should help with his pain. Minsc tries teaching you a Rashemen dance, but Astarion laughs for the first time that day and you do too.

‘It is good,’ Jaheira says, ‘to see you both smile again.’

You touch your mouth shyly. Your cheeks are sore. Astarion’s smile fades slightly but returns in full, timid confidence lighting his features once more. Halsin crosses the room and opens the curtains you’ve closed. The light douses the room in holiness, and you turn your face to watch the sunset, unafraid of what the future will bring.

‘That which troubles you will soon be over,’ she promises. She pats Astarion’s hand, and although she doesn’t say it, you know he’s her son. ‘You will live to see these days renewed. There will be no more despair.’

You’re both left alone again together. Astarion beckons you to the bed instead of your chair and you join him, carefully sitting atop the covers, a respectable distance between your thighs. You inhale carefully.

‘You did the right thing,’ you say. ‘Not completing the Black Mass.’

‘Perhaps I had inspiration,’ Astarion replies. ‘You had a chance to become the Slayer, a being more powerful than you could have known. But you didn’t.’

‘I betrayed my father,’ you whisper, staring at your hands. ‘And he killed me for it.’

‘And if I had completed Cazador’s ritual,’ Astarion says, ‘I would have become Mephistopheles’s whore. I refuse to bow to the whims of others. Being an Ascendent…was blinding me to the truth.’

You look at him curiously then. He confesses to you his sins. He has thought of ascending, and thought of it often but it was never to protect himself. After a certain point, he wanted to protect you too. Your Urges had been mistaken for something else then. A possession, an invasion. Astarion sought to exorcise you of your demons.

But when you had died and the diseased lifeblood fled from your veins, Astarion realized the truth. The ascension would not have helped him protect you. It would have tainted him. It would have contorted him. Rising above all other vampires, Astarion would have become cruel like those before him. He does not want to be cruel to you. He wants to learn kindness as you have. He reaches for it like he chases the sun.

Astarion takes you by the hand, smoothing your skin with his thumb over and over. His skin is cold beneath yours. You curl your fingers into his. He did not want to make you a slave, not again. Not to him.

‘You are the dawn-bringer,’ Astarion says. ‘Even if I never see the sun again, I am free.’

‘I love you,’ you say, voice shaking. ‘I’ll be with you. In the darkness.’

‘You fool,’ Astarion laughs affectionately. He leans across the distance and kisses your temple. ‘There is no darkness. You are daylight incarnate.’

You look at him sharply.

‘I’ve been thinking about something,’ he says. ‘It’s…been on my mind all day, but I think it’s time. Say you’ll come away with me.’

You and Astarion dress slowly. You would follow him almost anywhere, but this is different. There’s something to be done. You don’t dress in armor, and for that you’re almost grateful. You’re tired of fighting. You’re tired of seeing blood.

But it isn’t blood or anything blood related that Astarion takes you to see. One minute, you are wandering Baldur’s Gate at night, and the next, you’ve come to the hollow of a tree where a gravestone is coated in vines.

‘This…is where my old life began,’ Astarion tells you softly. ‘Beneath there, I was turned into a monster. But Cazador is dead now and I get to decide my own fate.’

Astarion tells you in painful detail about his transformation. How his wounds fused themselves shut but the pain never went away. He tells you about breaking through the wood of his demise and the fear that flooded his veins and how, just when he thought he had found his savior, Cazador had laughed wickedly with his cruel glowing eyes.

‘I was his,’ Astarion murmurs, ‘but not anymore.’

He kneels before you on the dirt before his tombstone and bows his head. The prodigal son returned home. The sight of it causes your heart to squeeze. You want to step away but you can’t. You’re afraid.

‘There is nothing left of the person I was before,’ he tells you. ‘I am free to become who I want to be, free to start a new journey. I have all the time in the world to figure out who I am and what I want, but I think I know.’

‘I love you,’ you say again. ‘You’re what I want.’

‘You were by my side through all of this,’ Astarion says, eyes glimmering in the moonlight. ‘And now I want you to christen me. Inaugurate me here on the site of my rebirth.’

This is another dream. You hold your hands over Astarion’s head and sprinkle imaginary water over his head. His eyes close instinctively. Love washes over him, something golden. You kneel down and pluck a flower from the earth and it does not bleed. Relief floods your veins. For once, you touch something and it does not rot. Carefully, like a ghost, you slide the flower into Astarion’s hair and watch as his crimson eyes spill open with tears and devotion.

Astarion kisses you, and for the first time in a long time, he presses his body against yours. He takes you that night in the dirt. His leg is tucked under yours, his cock against your core, his lips never leaving yours. Astarion recites verses in your ears until you burst with ecstasy, tightening around him so much that he can hardly move. He cradles the back of your head to comfort you as he drinks your blood. He cradles your head tonight because he loves you.

‘I am yours,’ he whispers against your skin, ‘and you are mine.’ You aren’t sure when or how Astarion has the time, but he presents you with a gift the night before the world ends. He wears a matching flower from his grave pinned to his armor at all times now. And on his hand, a ring with a silver band. He slides one over your finger as well and kisses your palm as you slowly realize what it means.

The family you’ve chosen throws you a celebration. The next day, Dammon arrives and shows you your repaired armor now dyed white.

You cry for hours out of happiness. ‘This could be the last chance we have for this,’ you whisper to Astarion.

Everyone keeps telling you that a light has returned to your eye, but you don’t see it. It isn’t until you’re laying naked with Astarion again, his skin pressed against yours, that you think you can see it too.

Astarion fucks you tenderly until you’re sore, and you cry and plead sweet things against his shoulder while he holds you safe in his arms. When the pleasure becomes too much and your spine arches from the mattress, he pulls you into his lap and holds you safe against his chest. You kiss him until your lips are sore.

 ‘Your life is mine,’ Astarion murmurs. ‘You belong with me, my love.’

‘I’ve never been happier,’ you moan weakly.

He has taken you again and again this evening. He doesn’t say it, but Astarion is afraid of what tomorrow might bring. You have outsmarted gods and men. You have found goodness where there was nothing but darkness. You refuse to be afraid now.

‘We were made to conquer,’ Astarion says. His mouth is like a fire across your cheekbone. You shudder around his cock.

‘Take my love,’ Astarion commands you, so you do.

You kiss a ruby bruise into his neck, and Astarion fills you with a grunt. He doesn’t part from you. He guides you back down into the sheets and burrows against your body as if determined to climb between your ribs. You smile. Astarion has already made a home in your bones and flesh. He has eaten the rot from your core and recreated you anew. You were not his sin but his salvation. Perhaps he was yours too.

[disastercyborgecho]

The End.

These are my final prompts for @summer-of-bad-batch

Excerpt:

'The era of the clone trooper was dying a quiet death.

Now, on the beach, Echo thinks that he might have been dying a quiet death too. A somber march towards the end full of rusting metal and clammy skin in solidarity with every single brother who would die in an empty base with an empty stomach and an empty heart.'

--

I used this last piece to try and explore, from the perspective of my favorite character, much of my own struggles, which is part of the reason I became so attached to him in the first place. The Bad Batch are essentially Echo's second chance at life, but more importantly, they keep giving him more chances. They are such a perfect example of how important finding joy within struggle is, and they remind me why I love Star Wars so much in the first place. Because really, in the end, the point of Star Wars is to have hope. In the face of everything, hope is our greatest weapon.

Anyway I hope you enjoy, this piece is very dear to my heart

---

Prompt: “Stop touching me!” // “I’m not touching you!”

Prompt: Crashing Hard

Prompt: Light in the Darkness

***

I did my job, I paid my dues, Love is for fools (Because nobody gives a F*ck)

---

Echo never realized how much he was terrified of change until he found himself on a beach on Pabu watching the waves crash over the sand near his mechanical feet, Rex leaning a heavy shoulder onto his own. They had not spoken for several minutes now, and the silence was heavy in Echo’s throat. 

It had all started when Rex had suggested they take a break from the endless violence and suffocating despair of their tiny freedom movement for their brothers. Echo had fallen asleep over his datapad again, trying to figure out a way to save just a little more of their kin because it felt like they would never catch up to the endless death, the endless decommissioning of their brothers as though they were just reactive pets. It was a spiral that repeated in Echo’s head every moment he had to think.

Rex had shaken him awake, the ship smoothly falling out of hyperspace as Echo had startled and flinched back into reality. His dreams were stained red now, and he always felt exhausted when he woke up.

“How much time?” He asked Rex.

Rex shifted a little, his hand still on Echo’s shoulder, and he glanced out at the stars and the approaching planet, where they were attempting to pick up more of their brothers abandoned with little to no resources, starving slowly for a New Empire. 

“Few more minutes before landfall,” Rex said. He sounded just as tired as Echo.

The mission went on without a hitch. It still hurt. 

Physically, Echo was slower now, he knew it. His body broke down faster and faster, the mechanics popping and clicking at the joins and his already unsteady immune system cracking further and further. Even the slow and steady process of loading up cargo from the base they were quietly dismantling made Echo sweat heavily through his layers of clothing and armor. But he never minded pushing past chronic pain and rasping breath when it mattered. No, what really weighed down the ex-ARC was the hollow faces of their newest rescues. 

The boys didn’t put up a fight. They rarely did anymore. Early on in the clone rebellion, many of their brothers still believed in the rhetoric of the Empire and the Cause. Were ready to die for it. But now, they had all been abandoned. It was cheaper for the Empire, lacking the Kaminoan facilities to actively decommission large amounts of clone troopers (and whose fault was that), to simply post clone troopers at far-away bases and planets that were barely in the grasp of the Empire, and then simply forgetting about them. If the clones were lucky, rations would be sent every other month or so, but as time dragged on, more and more of them were not. There was less battle now, less blood and violence, for Rex and his rebellion to rescue their brothers. Now it was just fighting the passing of time. Every new face Echo saw was empty from loneliness and starvation and the general emptiness of someone who’s had their purpose stripped away from them with no explanation or warning. He could only imagine the thousands more that would never find a new community within the family Rex was doing his best to collect. 

The era of the clone trooper was dying a quiet death.

Now, on the beach, Echo thinks that he might have been dying a quiet death too. A somber march towards the end full of rusting metal and clammy skin in solidarity with every single brother who would die in an empty base with an empty stomach and an empty heart. Echo thinks that Rex might have been able to see it, in the bags under his eyes that matched Rex’s own. In the names of those they couldn’t quite save, carefully scratched into the back of Echo’s datapad. Numbers for those that they never learned the names of. For those who never even got a name in the first place.

Echo fisted the sand in his hand aggressively and looked away from his brother and once, a long time ago, his commanding officer. He didn’t deserve this. Not with so much to still do. So many to still save. Rex laid a hand on his shoulder. It was calloused from holding a blaster and starting to wrinkle and stain from sun damage. It was familiar. Echo leaned into it despite the anger boiling in his stomach. 

Because Rex had asked him to leave.

He had taken Echo to Pabu with a suggestion of a break, and then sitting him down on the beach while Omega dragged Hunter and Wrecker further down the shoreline to search for shells, he had turned to look at his younger brother, and in a soft voice, suggested that he stay on Pabu. Permanently.

“We’re getting old, Echo. The work will never be done. But after all of this, after everything you’ve done, don’t you think you deserve the rest? You have a family here. People who love and miss you. People to grow old alongside of.”

Echo wanted to tell Rex that he was his family, but a familiar feeling of being sliced right down the middle choked him up. It felt like the moment where he had stood at the entrance of the Havoc Marauder for the first time, staring out at a group of people he would die for, had died for, knowing that he could never go back to them. That his place was with these strangers who had shown more acceptance of his new body than those he shared a face with. Than those he had shared everything with. Echo didn’t say anything. 

Rex took it as disagreement because he knew Echo so well, and he shook his head.

“Look vod’ika, this isn’t any easier for me than it must be for you. I just, I want better for you. You deserve better. You deserve to find a life, even for just a few more years, outside of, of this.” Rex gestured at himself, at his battered armor, and the dark lines under his eyes, and Echo wanted to punch him. Because Rex was everything, and the work they did together was everything, and couldn’t Rex see that underneath it all, Echo was nothing? 

And Echo was terrified that underneath it all, he really was nothing.

“There’s, there’s more to do, Rex,” he answered instead. “There’s always more to do.”

He tried to pretend that he didn’t sound defeated as he said it. 

He tried to pretend that he didn’t already know how this was going to go.

That for the second time in his life, he was going to have to split his heart in two, standing in a doorway of somewhere that was strange and unfamiliar, watching his family leave him behind because for the second time in his life, he wasn’t enough.

Echo didn’t know if there were any parts of his heart left to pick apart. So he stayed silent, and refused to look at Rex, and tried not to cry. It felt wrong in a place as beautiful as this, the sunset starting fires on the palm fronds and the water in bright oranges and reds, dancing along the horizon in a joyful celebration of another day gone. 

“Please, vod’ika,” Rex whispered, his hand still on Echo’s shoulder. “Please look at me, please say something.”

Echo could only watch the sun slip away and gasp around his lungs turning to stone. 

Empty.

Empty.

Empty.

“Breath, ori’vod,” Crosshair unceremoniously dropped into the sand on Echo’s other side. He had been sitting a ways away with a book, watching Omega, Hunter, and Wrecker, but Echo hadn’t even noticed him move. He didn’t touch Echo, didn’t worm his way into the spaces Echo had carved out and left empty in case someone needed a place to rest. That wasn’t their way, it never had been. Echo appreciated it. It was just as familiar as the callouses on Rex’s hands, but right now, it felt safer. He took a deep breath.

“I…” He stopped. Took another breath. Started again. “I don’t have anything left.”

Leaning back, Echo let the last little moments of sun warm his face, closing his eyes to the onslaught of emotions tangled up inside him. His brothers were silent, letting him untangle the knots one by one. Out of anyone, Rex and Crosshair both knew how much it took to tug on those strings, not knowing what would happen when they were straightened out. What would be left. Echo continued.

“I know that it’s time to let go. I get it. I’m slowing down, I’m not as… as useful. But do I really deserve this? There’s still so many brothers left behind, and how can I–How can I call them my brothers if I give up on them? If I stay here, and, and what? Retire? I’m drowning on dry land and it feels like no one in the entire galaxy cares about us, about anyone else at all, and what am I supposed to do about it? There’s so much death and we know exactly who’s responsible, but all we can do is just sit here and be angry, and I have been angry for so long now. I don’t know how much longer I can do it. But if that’s the only thing I can do? Then what right do I have to stop? What right do I have to rest?” 

It was Rex’s turn to stay silent. Echo swiped away the tears that were running down his cheeks, cold against the sunburnt skin. He didn’t expect an answer. But Crosshair had never been great about keeping his mouth shut. 

“I spent a long time being angry.” Crosshair began. He was running his fingers along the spine of his cracked novel, something about romance that he wouldn’t admit to enjoying. 

“I spent so much time being angry, that I forgot why it was important that I was at all. I spent so much time hating you all, hating that I had been left behind, that I forgot why it was important that I was angry in the first place.” 

“Why was that?” Echo asked, softly.

Crosshair finally looked at him, smile lines only just starting to form around his eyes and mouth. His eyes were burning, staring straight at Echo, as if he was trying to silently whisper ‘I see you, I see you, I see you’ with every second. 

“Because I loved you. You’re my family.” 

And in a heartbeat, Echo got it. 

Down the shore, Omega squealed as she was lifted up by Wrecker as he cackled. He tossed her into the air and she lifted her arms up, curls whipping in the breeze as she looked as though she was flying, if just for a moment, before landing safely back in Wrecker’s arms. Squirming away as he began to tickle her, laughter bounced down the beach and Hunter joined in the playful teasing. 

“Stop! Haha, stop!” Omega cackled. “Stop touching me!” 

The whole time she was wiggling in joy, which kind of ruined the admonishment, a grin plastered on her face. Hunter and Wrecker’s expressions mirrored her, and Wrecker scooped her up again.

“I’m not touching you!” And he tossed her into the air once again.

Omega’s excited howl was heard easily by the three other men on the beach, and none of them could resist cracking a smile at her exuberance.

“Sometimes,” Rex said, “The hardest thing we can do in the face of tyranny, is to laugh.”

Crosshair nodded, and he turned to Echo one more time, finding his eyes one more time to make sure his brother truly understood.

“You are allowed to enjoy this. You are allowed to experience happiness, when it is something that they have tried so hard to keep from us.”

Finally, he leaned into Echo, Rex taking up his other side, holding their brother securely between them. And Echo collapsed. His body shook from the terror and the rage that had been coiled up in him for so long with nowhere to go. He mourned the loss of countless of his family, thousands that he never got to know. He mourned his own body, and what time had taken from him that he would never get back. But he also shook from the sheer unadulterated hope that flooded through him. Because he was still here, and he had a family who loved him unconditionally, and none of them had ever thought that this was a future any of them would ever see.

Crosshair pulled him into a keldabe and held him there firmly. Rex had his hand on Echo’s back, the other gripping the back of his neck. Omega's laughter danced with Hunter’s and Wrecker’s as they chased each other along the sands of their home.

“You’re allowed to live, Echo,” Crosshair whispered. “We all are.”

***

AO3

I can't believe I managed to finish every single prompt. It was often a challenge, but I'm actually really proud of the work I've done for this. If you'll allow me to be sappy for a moment, this was really my first foray into this community, and I am so glad that I'm here. It has been the most accepting, creative, and kind group of people that I've ever had the pleasure of talking to.

Thank you.

The song 'Lithonia' is paired with this because I found it held the two themes in this well. When you listen at first, it is the anger at loss and apathy and the meaninglessness in life. But as you read, perhaps listen to it again. Perhaps this time, it can be the freedom of knowing that it doesn't matter. And because it doesn't matter, you are free to exist in any way that brings you joy and peace.

[mellowwillowy]

Alright, let's get this straight. You are praying for the Great Seven, or whatever it is in this TWISTED wonderland, to be transferred away from Pomefiore! (Pure crack content with a lil bit of yan spice~)

No, it's not fun having to do these damn skincare, especially with Vil around you, ready to reprimand you for slacking off! Posture check, outfit check, hairstyle check, fragrance check, dialect check! Rook is sure as hell happy to assist Vil in checking on you! He really should have just let Azul and Kalim fight about who gets to keep you in their dorm.

It feels like Vil is just living beneath your skin like the beautiful parasite he is now, so by all might after punching Crowley right in the guts, he hands you a phone. Well, technically, he's only lending you his spare phone, stingy.

"Aren't I very kin-" Another punch right on his jaw because his beak ass mask will hurt your fist.

Alright, an admission for NRC's dorm, this is it. This is your one and only chance to actually make Crowley agree to transfer you to another dorm.

He sure took his sweet ass time in introducing everything in that stupid voice of his but here comes the moment of truth! Just tap the screen and pray for the best. It's a 1/7 odd and you sure as hell wish you won't be transferred to Heartslabyul. Riddle's name alone is enough to make you think Vil might actually be a better choice here.

Savanaclaw sounds peaceful enough, Leona got that lil Ruggie around after all. Ignihyde is great, you can just be the little introverted ass you are and send some game invitations to Idia and Ortho every now and then.

But of course, Octavinelle is a great option to start. You have a high affinity with those sea mafia and you just have to be careful not getting tricked by their scheming nature.

Scarabia? Great. You got Kalim. He will spoil you rotten and squeal in joy the moment he knows you are transferring. You are not sure about Jamil though, seeing how he has to take care of 2 babies now but he will manage.

Last but not least, Diasomnia. While you do have a great relationship with Malleus and co, Lilia is the real highlight here. You get a friend whom you can actually drag into a fistfight like the good ol'days Lilia misses (does he?). You two are old old, it'll be nice being able to vibe with him more in pulling stunts plus your life there will be made easy by Lilia and Malleus.

So COME NOW! Do not shoot me into Hearslabyul by all means!

A hand takes away your phone before you can see the 2D character appears on the screen. You know damn well which dorm's uniform this is because well, you are wearing it right now.

""I am Pomefiore's dorm leader, Vil Schoenheit."" Uh-oh, not only are you shitting yourself over the 1/7 odd, why are you hearing double? (This really happened. I got Vil's despite trying to transfer them away in my first go.)

""Are you the new student?"" By all means, yes. Ignorance is bliss.

""Hmm? Well, you may have been sorted into Pomefiore in the first one go."" Oh great Seven, in TWO go. Don't look up, don't look up.

""But, you are still very naive."" You admit it, you are naive enough to not include Pomefiore in the 'Do not shoot me into Heartslabyul and Pomefiore by all means!'

Like the brat you are, you close your face with both hands and look up, "Oh my, housewarden Schoenheit, what are you doing here?" If you can't see him, he can't see you.

Well, that is until Rook pulls both your hands away from your face, "My, my, mon chèri, you shouldn't hide your beautiful face from us, do never shy your beauty away as you exist to enchant everyone."

Now you see Vil's feature being graced with a smile yet you can feel just how threatening his aura is right now. You are in a BIG trouble. Not only did the Great Seven grace your prayer of not getting transferred to Heartslabyul, but they also grace you back in this stupid 1/7 odd!

"Let's have a pleasant chat about this, shall we?" And with that, Vil drags you by the collar of your uniform like a stray cat you are, ready to be starved and drenched in cold water.

"Don't worry, I'll share my dinner with you later~" "Really-" "Rook, no."

PS: Turns out the person who alarmed Vil was Rook himself because well, he sees everything that you are doing, whether creepily or thoughtfully? Who knows~ Now you'll just have to hear Vil lecture you again.

PS 2: Epel thoughtfully shared 1/3 of his dinner in exchange for you teaching him how to fight bare-handed like a Savanaclaw.

Reference to the said event

[bunniekittiee]

(MK1) Bi-Han Headcanons

I was listening to Jar of Flies and it came into my head that I never did separate Bi-Han headcanons about himself. So this is what I think he would be like. This is also very music-based but yk its all good.

Bi-Han is known as the goth man of Mortal Kombat because of Noob but I think he would be a bit more grungey.

He loved dark and haunting music even before he became a wraith.

Alice In Chains was his first listen to Earthrealm music as he had never interacted with it before. Johnny had to tell him about them.

“I think it’s up your alley.” Johnny told him as he handed him a CD player with a few CDs.

Bi-Han did not trust his judgement at first and even put it off for a little bit, but he soon regretted putting it off as soon as he listened to Jar of Flies.

Absolutely loved AIC after this.

Related Jar of Flies to his own trauma with losing his mother and his father’s harsh treatment.

That’s another can of worms that cannot be opened in great detail today.

Would also like Narrow Head, Superheaven (duh i headcanon every character to like them), Mareux, Basement, Nine Inch Nails, but that’s just to name a few.

Associates “Hole in the Ground” by Superheaven with Kuai Liang and tries to not listen to it too much.

This is much worse after his betrayal. Bi-Han hardly touches the song after because of this.

It would only make him feel horrible and guilty.

Also associates “Necrosis” by Narrow Head with his father because of his hurtful treatment as a kid.

Bi-Han was trained a pushed a lot harder than Kuai Liang and even Tomas who was not their blood kin, so Bi-Han held a lot of resentment for his father.

He treated Tomas more like a son than he did Bi-Han.

Bi-Han wondered if this was so he could become a tough Grandmaster, and that’s how he reasoned it in his head, but it still messed with him.

When he lost his mother, it was devastating. She was the only one who supported him and took care of him after suffering from bouts of hypothermia from his father testing his might in the Arctika.

She was there for everything and always made sure Bi-Han was well.

When she passed, he did not have that support system anymore. That is when he knew it was time to become a man and move on.

He never moved on, but he did become a man.

His exterior was already cold, but it became much more worse after the death of his mother.

That is the Bi-Han we know today.

He never held much warmth despite his brothers telling him he should.

He hardly wanted to give his father a funeral, but he knew he could not go in that direction. He needed to honor him despite his dishonorable acts against the Lin Kuei.

He was a weak, senile Grandmaster. He was not fit to rule.

But Bi-Han was, he was ready to reform the clan and change the weaker policies his father implemented after the death of his mother.

Kuai Liang always tried to reason with Bi-Han, but he never changed his mind. Once Bi-Han was set, he was ready.

It didn’t matter what Kuai said or did, Bi-Han would never budge.

He was very stubborn to the dismay of his brothers.

Late at night if Bi-Han could not sleep, he would listen to music to help him.

Bi-Han could not sleep well because of the creeping thoughts of his childhood/adulthood that caused him great pain.

It often seeped into his dreams which caused him to not be able to go back to sleep.

That’s why he looks so tired, he just has a hard time sleeping. His mind is too occupied and the gears are always turning about.

“Blank” by Glare also makes Bi-Han reflect on his life. He listens to that when he can’t sleep.

Sometimes, it’s able to lull him to sleep.

Tomas and Kuai do worry about Bi-Han.Tomas suspects that Bi-Han is depressed, maybe anxiety-ridden.

But they’ll never know. Bi-Han is super against vulnerability and he hates to feel that way.

He also does not like to be forced to talk about his feelings or what’s bothering him. It makes him feel like he’s trapped in a corner like a wild animal.

After Bi-Han’s betrayal, Sektor and Cyrax are the ‘replacements’ for his siblings.

But they never are interested in what Bi-Han’s mental stability is. They are not that close to be aquatinted like that.

All they care about is having a Grandmaster that is ready to conquer and give them orders. They are warriors, they are ready for anything Bi-Han throws their way.

When Bi-Han was younger, his father did everything to make his life difficult. This lead to Bi-Han being very angry often.

He trained alone in the temple, his knuckles bloody from the amount of punching he did. His knuckles would be raw and cut open badly.

His mother would coax him away from the training room to let her wrap his hands up. She did this very often as Bi-Han was the main target of his father’s wrath.

He hardly cried in front of her, but every once in a while he broke. But she picked up his pieces.

Bi-Han loved his mother greatly, her death pained him the most out of everyone.

So when he looks in the mirror, all he sees reflecting back at him is his mother.

Her eyes, her facial features, her caring demeanor.

But Bi-Han was hardened, extremely rough around the edges.

He could never be as caring and loving like her. It wasn’t in his DNA to be that way. That was more Kuai Liang’s personality.

Sometimes if he stared for too long, he would see her in the mirror. But only for a mere moment.

He blamed it on lack of sleep and never told anyone.

Bi-Han is extremely troubled, and he requires a lot of patience and understanding. He will not open up right away to anyone.

[osmanthus-wine-addiction]

Zhongli is my comfort blanket. I just can't imagine this character treat me badly and hurt me, but I can 100% imagine reader being yandere towards them.

You absolutely loathed to hurt him in any way. He was the sun in your sky, the dazzling gem you traded your soul for. It was only expected for him to cherish you, treasure you in that same way. He always looked at you so apprehensively, like he could read your mind.

You promised to never hurt the innocent people of Liyue, even if they were terrified of you and trembled in fear whenever you stood beside him. You and Morax once had a contract. That was, until he chose to break it. Did he truly not have a choice? Were you the lesser of two evils, so he could only disappoint you? It doesn't make the sting of betrayal any more bearable.

From the moment you laid eyes on him, your devotion to him was unshakable. You could die for him. You could denounce the world and forsake all your kin for him. Yet he chose to forsake you.

You were completely justified in chaining him up like this. He looked so hopeless, so infuriatingly submissive in these pretty chains. His once-flawless body was covered in bruises and gashes, drizzled in shimmering gold like some sadistic piece of art. Not a patch of ummarred skin could be found, save for the area around his once-striking eyes. They were no longer the brilliant gems you coveted, but dull and lifeless rocks.

Maybe he feels remorse, maybe he doesn't. It doesn't matter anymore. Because he's the god of contracts, he willingly allowed himself to be sealed away and be subjected to your torture. Every second of everyday, you wouldn't fail to remind him that he had made the wrong choice. You were different from Morax. He honored his contracts because he had to. You honored your contracts to him because you wanted to. That was simply no longer the case. He needed only to stab you in the back once for you to stab him a thousand times. You would have him watch what he chose over you crumble into sand and fall apart over and over, until the day your wrath finally subsides.

[punishing-eden]

Hello. I'm sorry if this is sudden but I was wondering if you took story requests and if you do, could you make a platonic Dan heng IL story with the reader being the child of his previous incarnation and with the reader still being quite young and Jing Yuan is the one to tell Dan Heng about them even though he's only met them a couple and doesn't know them personally, but Jing Yuan felt like Dan Heng had the right to know about the reader especially after the reader had an encounter with Blade. (If this is too much or if you don't do requests that's completely understandable and I wish you a good day/afternoon and or night😊)

Author's Notes:

Hi, I haven't done the latest Trailblazer mission yet. But my stupid ass, low-key, accidentally spoiled myself with the whole thing about Blade :') . So, I guess I can give this a go.

Tbh, I am not a lore person when it comes to Hoyoverse. For me, it's too confusing and convoluted. I just pay attention to the details in the story and reread character lines over and over again to get their speech patterns.😅😅😅

I hope for the best.

Also…is this Dad!Dan Heng, or Creator!Dan Heng?

-Punishing Eden

---------------------------------------------------

His Legacy…

Dan Heng x Child!Reader (Ft. Jing Yuan & Bailu)

Summary:

Before Dan Heng leaves, he learns of your existence; his next of kin from his previous incarnate. Despite not harbouring much memories or parental familiarity, Dan Heng wants to see you one last time.

Tags: Lore (that I only know 10% about), platonic, parental relationship, request, one-shot, potential spoilers, possible ooc, canon divergent, request

It was a risk.

With every decision made, there’s always a risk. And, Jing Yuan knows that, by releasing the Stellaron Hunter; by the name of, “Blade”, was definitely a risk.

“General… are you sure we should do this?” Yanqing had expressed his concern, yet, for the General, Jing Yuan continued to execute his plan. Knowing, if everything is under control, the fruition will worth the risk.

Jing Yuan had given precaution to each step along the way. However, he never anticipated that the Stellaron Hunter would have other plans of his own.

___

“Who are you?”, you asked, looking at a man with a nonchalant, yet, troubled look.

Blade looked at you. The colours of his irises swirled. He didn't answer, as his dark presense towers over you.

Troubled, as if he was baring all the burden on his shoulders. Troubled, as if he held onto the anguish and hatred of the past. Troubled, as if he holding on to a thin line between ‘monster’ and ‘man’; of what is left of his sanity.

___

The guilt weighed on Jing Yuan when he had heard of your encounter with Blade. Were the precautions not enough? We're his predictions not good enough?

The General recalled, how the Master Diviner had given him a warning, prior, to the operation.

“Was it worth, to put so much risk to simply catch the Stellaron Hunter, Kafka?” Fu Xuan asked, she made her disapproval as clear as day.

"Nothing can escape destiny and fate..." Fu Xuan's voice rang in Jing Yuan's ears.

Maybe, despite all the precaution that were made, your encounter with Blade was inevitable. And, maybe it was also fate that brought Dan Heng back to Luofu.

“Dan Feng…” Jing Yuan began, “I see that you have finally returned to Luofu.”

“Dan Feng?” Dan Heng questioned, amused by how Jing Yuan called him by his previous name, “I don’t go by that name anymore… everything is in the past, I see no need to look back.”

Hearing what Dan Heng had said, brought a frown on Jing Yuan’s face. However, the General nodded. He accepted the fact; what had happen centuries ago was of a tragic demise. Done, out of the succumb of “immortality”.

___

“You’re hurt…” you said, trying to grab the man’s bandaged hand, “Lady Bailu can help you.” You offered.

Before you could wrap your tiny fingers around Blade’s hand, he immediately pushed you away. His eyes stared with intensity, seemingly glowing at the sight of his target. His chest heaved, as he felt his throat tensed up at the bubbling emotions of anger emerging.

Looking at the small child getting up from the ground, Blade fixated his gaze on you, as if he was planning to strike his next move. His grip held onto his sword tightly.

___

“Indeed, the past is the past, but…” Jing Yuan said, “ the legacy of your former self, will continue over the centuries to come, Dan Heng.”

He hinted something to Dan Heng.

“Whether you, like it or not…” Jing Yuan added.

Dan Heng’s foot step paused. There was a small weight in his heart. Was it something he did, when he was still Dan Feng? He turned around to look at Jing Yuan, the memories swirled in Dan Heng’s mind, trying to comprehend the muddled and missing pieces of the image of you. An sleeping child, hibernating until it was time for you to be awaken from your birth.

“… [Y/N]…?” He spoke of your name.

___

He lifted his arm up, the cracks on his sword glowed, as he looked down at you with an intense gaze. At that moment, Blade had felt he had snapped. He wasn’t a “man”, but a “monster” blinded my his emotions.

The animalistic growl grumbled from his throat, the anticipation of spilling crimson right before his eyes when he brings his arm down. Yet, his arm remain frozen. Your cries began to alert the guards of Bailu’s estate.

Blade struggled against his mind. Your childish cries was giving him a headache. “…Just…a…small…child…” He mumbled to himself.

“Who’s there?” The guards came running to your direction, “It’s him! The Stellaron Hunter! Quick, alert Lady Bailu!”

“Tsk..”Blade clicked his tongue. Without a word, he fled.

___

“[Y/N].” Dan Heng said.

You looked up at him. Your creator, that you never knew.

Without saying anything, you handed him a cup of tea, before returning to Bailu’s side. Warm light illuminated the living room of Bailu’s house.

“Do you know how tiring it is to look after this child, General?” she complained, “how long will you be keeping this child with me?”

Jing Yuan chuckled, “I understand, Lady Bailu. You have ‘just’ been through a rebirth, and I am certain that having a child under your care while still being…quite young…is tiresome.” The general took a sip of the tea, avoiding certain words, “But, please bare with this arrangement for a little longer. Until the time is right, you will be free of such services.”

Bailu was a little surprised, “W-wait!? What does that mean?!”

“Why do you sound like I want to get rid of this child?” Bailu accused.

”Oh?” Jing Yuan held a surprised look, “Was that not what you ask for?”

“I mean…yes, it will be less of a burden to have this child under my care... But, I have taught a few things about medicine to this child…” the dragon girl said, thinking of a excuse, “…so it will be a loss of my effort if the child leaves so soon. How are you going to compensate that?! ” She crossed her arms.

Dan Heng continued to look at you. You were at a corner playing by yourself. The way you look, the expression and features, were a reflection of him. Dan Feng, your creator, your father.

He let out a heavy sigh. There was a part of him, that wants to engage with you. There were so many things he wanted to say, to do, and to ask of you. Yet, the lack of familiarity and parental feelings for you, made him hesitate.

“…well, it will be quite some time before further arrangements can be made on the child’s welfare…” Jing Yuan grabbed his chin, a mock gesture to convince Bailu to fall through his plan.

“As I thought, General,” Bailu scoffed, “Now, if you are not asking for prescriptions or diagnosis, leave.”

“Yes, of course. Are you alright with that?” Jing Yuan looked at Dan Heng, who’s eyes were fixed on you.

He snapped out of it and replied, “…Yes, I am ready to go. The Astral Express will be leaving soon.”

“We’ll see you both out… [Y/N], the guest are leaving.” Bailu hopped off her chair. She gently took your hand and walked Jing Yuan and Dan Heng to the door.

Both men looked back as they walked out. Dan Heng gave you one last look. You were waving goodbye at him. With Bailu, the Elder High of the Vidyadhara, as your guardian. He knew you are in good hands.

The front gates closed. The image of you disappeared behind the structure with along with Bailu.

That was the last time, Dan Heng saw of you.

(C) Punishing Eden

[fujobritta]

community has a lot of lessons to teach but one that i think has always resonated with me is this journey to not specifically accepting being average, but accepting that no one is better than anyone else . just this whole group of people who have some reason to believe theyre better than the people around them who have to come to terms with the fact that theyre just as bad as the people around them . and the character who struggles with this the most is jeff .

in beginner pottery, we see a flashback of jeff and his mother -- with her telling him that hes special and amazing . and because of this, he's so fragile about being worse than someone at something that he genuinely goes fucking insane over it . jeff has this crazy reluctance to accept that rich is just a great guy so bad that that he spends so much of his time researching pottery, trying to find some sort of thing that could make him go "ha HA!" at rich . and the only way he managed to get over it in this episode is by finally accepting that he isn't any better than anyone, imagining his mother now correcting herself and telling him that he is just a perfectly normal guy, who is good at some things and bad at others .

as someone who not only grew up as a gifted kid, but also a chinese person in a white-majority country, i had it drilled into my brain from a young age that i had to be special . im not a chinese standup comedian -- im not going to say that my parents never told me they were proud in me, because thats not true . in fact, its honestly the opposite . ever since i was a kid, i had to deal with being told that i was smarter or more talented; and thats really what drags you down, because now that the expectations in place for you are so high, when you realize that you arent actually much better, it hurts so much worse . thats what pushes you to stay up all night reading the entire encyclopedia of pottery and going crazy .

i think that learning to be average is harder than any acedemic stunt ive ever tried to pull . jeff went from being a lawyer who had italian faucets and got almond facial scrub shipped in from finland to a student at a community college with a study group consisting of a bunch of weird people . and his struggle throughout the entire series revolves around his superiority complex and his very slow acceptance that, yeah, he really is just as bad as all the people around him . despite taking three steps forward, then two steps back on his journey towards accepting mediocrity, in the end its alright -- because thats what change is about .

ive said this a million times but with every series theres characters that i kin that are dissimilar enough to me that i can actually like them . and then theres characters that i kin so hard that my dormant self hatred kicks in and i want to rip them into bits . jeff is the latter . i hate him so much

[kottkrig]

To Embrace The Shadow: Absolution (End)

Lucretia is faced with her own mistakes and what the consequences might be if she forgets why they call her the Shadow Mother.

World of Warcraft | Original Characters

Found Family

“Can you come home now?”

Zala looked up from Lucretia’s arms with misty eyes. The elf often asked to be held without any fear of her mentor's sobering presence.

“Yes, of course. I will not abandon my people, and I owe you three a lot for securing my recovery ahead of time…” Lucretia faced her anticipating audience. The men were reaching out as if she might slip away again, but they were too modest to ignore decorum as quickly as their Sister.

“First of all, you deserve an apology.”

Letting Zala go, she floated back as much as she could in their modest space. She took off her miter, which was constructed from nothing but pure energy, as was the rest of her; the Shadow Mother was the wraith of a mortality left behind. The vessel she mantled was the one her people knew best, and she let it appear largely as cadaverous as she was before her ascension. She refused to be ashamed of her undeath, which she never chose for herself. Failing her kin, however, was a result of her choices.

The trio watched as she apologized for her arrogance, for taking their loyalty for granted. She was sorry for seeing herself as above consulting them about her plans, and just expecting them to comply. Her overconfidence put them all in danger and left them to clean up her mess.

The prestige tied to her name was earned, but she was not invincible, and she was the most responsible for reminding them that neither were they.

“My greatest joy would be for you to one day walk your own ways, but I cannot let you go with the presumption that any of us are untouchable. It would violate our third and most difficult tenet, and in turn, undo the others. All three must work together.”

They stared at her in stunned silence. It certainly confirmed her arrogance.

“But I have shackled your growth, and you have every right to be disappointed with me.”

Zala was quick to accept her apology. Lucretia had a hunch that she was just exhilarated with their reunion, as their bond sometimes leaned on the familial side over simply teacher and student. It wasn’t Lucretia’s intention for Zala to become so attached that it might hurt her autonomy, and they would have to work on that. Lafayette was similar, albeit more guarded with his opinion. It was likely that he followed Zala’s initiative, as he often did choose to go with the flow and submit to a more assurant personality. Only when the following silence got too tense for him did he seem to add his own input.

“You couldn’t predict that this would happen. But maybe… maybe we should have talked more beforehand. We could have helped you prepare better.”

Lucretia agreed with him and was pleased to hear him speak his mind. She then faced Cletus and found him avoiding her gaze. She had supervised him the longest, with promises of prestige dangling in front of him–which she knew he would eventually achieve–but she had held him back for years. Perhaps she feared for his safety, or perhaps she savored having such loyal acolytes at her beck and call, but loyalty was unwise without mutual trust. It might have dawned upon him and made him hesitant. She could not blame him.

They didn’t need to forgive her, and she was hoping that they would take their time with their final decision. Receiving her humility was what they deserved. As for herself, she could handle any heat coming her way from the cult. Uppity Dark Clerics who thought she got her comeuppance were insignificant when she had the honor of seeing her students flourish together.

Things eventually started returning to relative normalcy, but Lucretia had to rethink her approach as a teacher. She decided to bring the trio aside, one at a time, and offer to loosen her grip on them. If they were to grow further, they needed to be challenged, and she could use her privileged position to advance theirs.

Lafayette’s anxiety held him back from progressing any faster than at a sloth’s pace, and Lucretia knew that she contributed to his sheltering. The living and the dead could walk all over him, and he would take it in silence instead of standing his ground. His success in reclaiming control of his sight tasted of the respect that he longed for. It was going to be a lifelong journey to challenge his fears, and he would be facing setbacks, but such were the trials they all faced as early as learning their first tenet. He often settled among the cult’s archives, where anyone who needed something had to consult an archivist. If he was taught on how to manage their texts, others were wise to respect someone who held onto occult knowledge.

Zala rambled on about a dozen things on her wishlist, but it wasn’t quite material things that Lucretia had in mind. They could revisit that matter at another time, so the two concluded that her role in preserving their grounds should broaden beyond menial labor and patrols in Deathknell. She had proven that she could plan for and journey into the unknown, and then return safely on her own. An elven ranger was exceptional for sweeping across the wilds with her silvan knowledge, and even someplace as haunted as Lordaeron needed care to maintain balance. It was her home, and she should be free to explore and nurture it. Lucretia urged her to be vigilant as the eyes of the Forgotten Shadow, and Zala eagerly swore to honor the trust put in her.

Cletus’s relationship with her had become tense. He fought harder than he should have for their sake, and was facing burnout as his only reward if he was just going back to being her eternal promising student. For one who had come so far, she still hadn’t ordained him. They both knew that his weak point was vainglory, and while power was what they all sought, every cultist had to constantly measure their capacity for it. Even the most successful of Dark Clerics weren't above remembering the tenets, or they risked falling like she had done. Cletus could charm his way forward all he wanted, but it meant nothing if he wouldn’t practice what he had been preaching in this time. Whenever he felt certain about it, Lucretia promised to be there to avow his commitment, and bow back at him as an equal.

She was self-aware enough to recognize her worries about letting go of control, knowing what it might cost a Shadow priest to be careless. She was proof herself of what rigid discipline could accomplish, but her students would never be able to breathe if they couldn’t reach above the surface. All four of them were left with scars reminding them of their trials, that they saw it through, and that there would be more trials to come. They would continue to face failure, prejudice, hatred and devastating loss, and she couldn’t always be there to protect them. What she could do was teach them how to protect themselves, and each other, until they were ready to walk their own ways. Their paths were not for her to decide for them, when such was not the will of the Forsaken.

It was challenging to adapt and persist through difficult times, and there may be endless time for any Forsaken to lead. But they were a stubborn people, and when those who reviled them as abominations kicked them down, they crawled back up and spat in the faces of their oppressors. The Cult of Forgotten Shadows sought to enhance what it meant to be Forsaken, and when to be Forsaken meant spiteful survival, they embraced the shadow that had been cast over them.

[necesitotequila]

Genuinely love the way you characterise Mey-Rin because sooooo many fic writers/Kins characterise her as this ‘h-helpless little uwu maid’ whose just sooo obsessed w Sebastian. I remember one fic I read she literally said to Sebastian she didn’t care if he cheated on her and said she loved him every other sentence it was so awkward to read lmao.

Her character is so interesting and ppl minimise her character so bad and makes her obsessed with ONE MAN.

Love how u characterise her fr

Ohhh my god 🥹 thank you so much 😭🙏🏼♥️ this ask actually made me smile so hard my face now hurts!

I feel like there’s a lot we still don’t get to know about her character or how she would handle certain unexpected situations in the series, so it’s fun getting to expand upon that.

And her fanon characterisation + her reactions to Sebastian being overplayed are also part of why I’m not a Sebamey shipper (one of many reasons, tbh). 💀⚰️ (I still don’t wholly know what a kin is, ngl ahahaha.) I have seen it so many times and it makes me want to ram my head against a wall. Repeatedly.

If Sebastian or another partner did cheat on her, she’d shoot so many holes into him he’d be a slice of Swiss cheese. 😂 /hj. But, for real, she doesn’t seem like the kind of girl who would take nonsense.

Once again, I’m so very glad you enjoy my portrayal of her 🥹 (if you read the fics/ideas I have) and how I perceive her. It’s always lovely to hear from a fellow Mey-Rin enjoyer!

Hope you have a lovely day, mate! 🫶🏼🩷

[annymation]

What things annoyed and infuriated you the most in Wish 2023 (or Canon!Wish)?

OOOOH BOY! You just gave me permission to open a whole can of worms! Let's gooo!

Okay so here's a list:

I don't like how weak the reveal of what Magnifico actually does is. Asha finds out that he doesn't grant all the wishes, awesome, that would be a cool reveal, except, it's not a reveal, she freakin KNEW THIS! Asha herself said to a kid "It could be you someday" COULD! Asha, you said COULD, as in, there's the POSSIBILITY he'll grant that kid's wish, not a certainty! Not to mention if he only grants ONE wish per month then OF FREAKING COURSE not all wishes are granted. Okay, case in point, there's no grand reveal that the king is doing something no one knew, Asha apparently just forgot how their kingdom works.

Now hear me out, I am NOT one of those people that says Magnifico is a hero and Asha is a villain, I wanna make this clear, because although I find people who legit think like that kinda funny and I reblog their takes from time to time, I also find it frustrating that Disney managed to make a STRAIGHT, WHITE, MAN, IN A POSITION OF POWER, MORE LIKABLE THAN THEIR SECOND BLACK PROTAGONIST! ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? IT'S SO EASY TO MAKE US HATE HIM!!!-ahem- But, although Magnifico is the most likable character in the movie, I do not see him as a hero, no no no, keeping the wishes away from the people of Rosas is bad, pretending that he'd grant Sabino's wish only to say SIKE was bad, saying he'd never grant Asha family's wishes was bad. So, am I saying Magnifico is a villain?... No. That's topic number 2, Magnifico wasn't a villain, he was a jerk. A jerk does not a villain make. I didn't feel threatened by that man for not a single minute, and that's including when he was possessed by the evil book, speaking of which.

That dang book both ruined and saved the movie honestly, because yeah, although it's a stupid way to make Magnifico an actual villain, but in a way that makes us sympathize with him since he's not in his right mind, and the last thing you want is for the audience to feel bad for your villain... Well, there's exceptions of course, but that's a whole other subject. But even though the book caused all this damage, it also gave us King unhinged, campy, straight up evil, fruity, voiced by Chris Pine having the time of his life Magnifico, and I loved every second of it, I ate possessed Magnifico up, I was living for every cringe cliche evil dialogue that came out of him, like hell yeah, that's what I've been waiting for, that's what it's all about WOOOOOO!!! I loved him so much I just copy pasted his personality into the Magnifico in my rewrite, although, my version is actually willing to kill teens, while Canon Mag seemed more hesitant for some reason, my headcanon is that Magnifico was fighting the curse deep down, and that's why his magic actually didn't hurt anyone, so... That's sad, hope he breaks out of the mirror and kills them all Idk

We're on topic 4 and this is not even half of my problems oh my... Anyway, Asha is boring. And I mean like, in a way that feels intentional, how did they do it? It's fascinating how she has nothing going for her, she doesn't stand out, doesn't have any internal conflicts at the start of the movie, something ALL Disney princesses have: Belle doesn't fit in with her village, Mulan struggles to make her family proud, Mirabel struggles to make her family proud x10.000, Moana wants to explore the sea but can't, Ariel wants to explore the land but can't, Jasmine wants to get out of the castle but can't, Cinderella is a victim of domestic abuse, ya'll get the idea, all these girls get their struggles that make them compelling, what's Asha's struggle that has been with her for most of her life?... Uh... Her grandpa, this dude we just met and seems pretty happy... Doesn't have his wish granted yet... Ok, what else? Oh yeah everyone in town seems to love her and dance along with her to show tourists how cool the kingdom is... Uhum... So yeah she has no compelling struggles that hook us with her from the start, and the conflict she DOES get, as I explained before, feels underwhelming.

The setting, oh the setting. Like, don't get me wrong, the architecture is pretty, but nothing about it screams SPAIN to me, where is the cultural food? Where are the bulls? Where's the stuff we associate with the Iberian Peninsula? They did such a good job in Encanto, what the heck happened? Oh and did I mention that most of the animals that appear in the forest are not even native to the Iberian Peninsula, there would be no racoons in a medieval setting there, considering they're an invasive species that was brought there from North America, something that, I assume, wouldn't be possible back then, as I don't think the americas were even discovered yet, but anyway, there they are, racoons hanging upside down from their tails, something they can't even do. Sorry for expecting biology accuracy from my disney movie guys, but you can't just make Encanto, that was freaking amazing with it's inclusion of so many gorgeous latin American animals, and then do whatever Wish is, like bruh where were the Lynxes??? They're an endangered species there, Disney could've raised awareness!!!

The music...

Valentino was absurdly annoying, and it would be SO EASY to make a baby goat cute! Baby. Goats. Are. Cute. SO WHY DID YOU MAKE HIM UNFUNNY GOAT THAT MAKES BUTT JOKES???

Characters were unmemorable, Asha's mom didn't do anything, Sabino, whose supposed to be the backbone of the story, is barely a character, and again, it's not like Disney hasn't made likable elderly people before, Moana's grandma, Mama Coco, but my guy Sabino was just... There.

Aaaand I probably could go on and on but I can't think of anything else, feel free to share your own problems with the movie yall.

[selkieioe]

read: playlists are super down below so keep scrolling!!

Our Life: Beginnings & Always.

Hello Hello! Welcome to my first ever post on tumblr that just had to be about my ultimate top tier favorite visual novel of all time..Our Life: Beginnings & Always or OL:BA for short.

This game has such a special place in my heart that im afraid I’ll forever be attached to it because at this point it’s not even a phase anymore lol. I still remember that heated summer day of scrolling down on my steam shop out of boredom and i kept getting recommended OL:BA but back then i really couldn’t care less and would not even spare a glance on it until i got so fed up of it popping up in my recommended for the next few days that i decided to finally check it out.

Reading what it was about made me curious but what really got me downloading it was because of the customization of our character/characters.

And finally into the game i was! I remember when the story started, i was very surprised already by the environment, narrative and world building of the game. It truly felt like i was part of it and i didn’t get bored at all. In fact right from the start i was hooked already!

I loved ALL of the characters that was introduced, i love the fact that it was SO multiple choice that it felt like you were really integrating yourself/oc onto the game and that you’re not just forced to say the same thing as a different choice or feel as though your options are limited. Its definitely a game that you’re supposed to replay over and over because its just that fun!!

And as someone who has never had a great childhood and adolescence, absentee parent, chaotic household, unsupportive friends, want to be understood (you know…this and that) i was so happy that this game was doing that and it genuinely gave me hope to live despite going through the darkest of times in my life :)

This game has changed me into a better person and made me want to be the best version of myself that i want to be in the future! I will infinitely recommend this to anyone who wants to have a feel good game/read (+1 it will make you cry!!)

Anyway enough yapping 💀 Time to get to the point.

Here are some playlists i made dedicated to the lovable characters of OL:BA that i personally listened to during my walkthrough and may relate to their route/lore ;)

read: playlists are super down below so keep scrolling!!

1# COVE HOLDEN

the og love interest!

summer with cove holden.

this playlist is the epitome vibes of the game (growing up with them and having fun, making memories.)

from beginnings to always with cove holden.

spoiler alert!! MARRIAGE DLC WOOOO!! really love this one cuz its all full of cute romance and wedding songs. i also put some songs that i think mc and cove would have when they get kids :3

#2 DEREK SUAREZ

MY PERSONAL FAVORITE!!

DEREK IS JUST SOOOO AAHHHH He’s my ideal man and i KIN him so bad you dont even know!!!

derek suarez crushing on you.

THIS PLAYLIST. IM TELLING YOU. one of the FAVES i made!! the pining, secret crush on mc for a loong time, the angst GOSH. so cute. every song in this plays a part on each moment with him i swear

#3 BAXTER WARD

ANGST MAN.

5 years after baxter ward.

one thing i noticed about our life is it lacks certain angst aspects when the baxter dlc didn’t exist YET back then. like i LOVED the fight between mc and cove in mcs room and i wanted it to escalate more ngl just cuz i LIVE for angst! but if you want to get real hurt you should choose baxter. this playlist focuses more on the last step of his dlc and its full of taylor swift songs.

baxter ward.

honestly this playlist is catered more to his vibes, his character (i listen to this playlist and i imagine edits of him lol) but i guess some songs are related to his story/lore? i made this waaay before 5 years after baxter ward and when the baxter dlc didn’t exist yet and we all just knew him to be as the new neighbor in sunset bird but people like it i guess so here it is xD

anyway thats all for OL:BA series! GB Patch is cooking up Our Life Now & Forever and it’s not released yet! just on demo on steam and itch! i already have a playlist for it but so far i have only made Qiu Lin (one of the leads of the game) i also have a privated filo inspired playlist for baxter if you want to listen to it let me know so i can put it up in public!

[yuridovewing]

Family Tree Base Used

Razorverse!Sandstorm family tree ! I made Tallstar's family sadder. Info/Changes under the cut

Sandgorse:

-Largely the same as he is in canon, except he's held accountable for being a bad father. He does not reconcile with Tallstar, not even in StarClan. Like Rainstar(flower), he doubles down on his actions and refuses to apologize. Tallstar's arc is about realizing he’s never going to win his father’s approval and focusing on the cats who care about him.

-Did make him kinda worse though. He's transphobic to Tallstar. Sorry for putting transphobia in the warriors universe but uhhh. I mean my take on this world is allll about how restrictive and harmful the clans can be and how they need to acknowledge that and change so. Bigotry naturally kinda comes with that.

-Pressures both of his children to be tunnelers and puts their dying legacy on their shoulders. Tallpaw develops claustrophobia, only made worse by Sandgorse. Finchpaw does much better at it and becomes his golden child for a bit, but gives her a perfectionist complex.

-Might have his prefix changed to separate him from Sandstorm more

Palebird:

-Largely the same as in canon, except she doesn't have a litter with Woolytail. She does not want more children.

-She still has ppd and trouble connecting to her children. This is made worse by Sandgorse not being a very good mate to her and dismissing her mental health.

-Taking a page out of For Roads Untraveled's book here, her arc is about how the characters around her, including her mate, dismiss her declining mental health and how that affects her relationship with her kids. She loves them, but she struggles to care for them and be around them. Her only real supports are Brackenwing and Woolytail. Sandgorse holds every favor he does for the family over her head, and to get back at him, asks Heatherstar to make her kits moor runners. This causes a lot of strife for everyone involved, especially when Sandgorse dies on bad terms with them all. Palebird spends years being estranged from her kits, but they finally talk it out and reconcile later in life. She dies peacefully in her sleep.

-Dates Woolytail soon after Sandgorse's death cause she realized that they had more chemistry and respect for one another than she ever had with Sandgorse, who pressured her to give up moor running to be a tunneler with him "if she cared about him".

Tallstar:

-Trans male and gay. Sandgorse is not a fan. Too bad for him. Very briefly T4T with Jake but it doesn't last long- Jake is a kittypet at heart.

-Has claustrophobia and PTSD from the cave in that killed his father.

-More... politically neutral than anything throughout his leadership. He's leery of "outsiders" but doesn't inherently dislike them. He genuinely didn't have much of an issue with Mudclaw's more conservative thinking when he appointed him deputy.

-However, he is more friendly to ThunderClan because of their history. He trusted them enough to allow his niece to be nursed there, and later let his nephew join. He was deeply grateful for their help when they rescued WindClan from exile.

-He had a big change of heart in old age, realizing he has more kin outside of his clan at this point than inside, and the journey especially opens his eyes that the clans bonding together would be more beneficial than not. But by then, it was too late- he ended up hurting more cats than saving by making Onewhisker deputy against the latter's true wishes.

-Has a strained relationship with Onestar in StarClan. Onestar is very bitter over what Tallstar did, and Tallstar wishes he went about his decision differently every day and wants to reconcile with him.

-Misses his ThunderClan kin a lot. His sister's death hit him quite hard as she was his last remaining family.

Finchsong:

-Rescued dead kit... only to die later whoops.

-Very stubborn molly, both a good and bad thing depending on the time. She was always taking risks to do what she thought was right- for example, running into a blocked off tunnel to try and convince Heatherstar to bring back tunneling. Or running away with her brother to find their father's murderer.

-As a kit and apprentice, she was much more insecure. She was briefly Sandgorse's golden child, because she was less "cowardly" than her brother and "more willing to embrace her future". AKA, do what Sandgorse wanted, give up her apprenticeship with no lip, and not complain cause she was afraid of his reaction. She actually did like to tunnel, but Sandgorse took all the joy out of it for her. She just stressed and stressed and stressed over whether she was digging the way Sandgorse wanted her to (even if it didn't suit her) or if Sandgorse was in a bad mood or not. Her relationship with Tallpaw is fractured over this briefly, as she sides with her father and starts begging Tallpaw to "just go with it" so he could be accepted too.

-She doesn't say it, but Sandgorse's death was a relief. She was devastated, she was angry that it happened... but she felt like she could breathe. This made her feel horribly guilty- how could she feel better with her father buried in the earth rather than besides her? It's a big motivator for her joining Talltail on his quest, and when she finally speaks about these feelings to Talltail, it pushes the two of them to process their feelings about their father and helps them reconcile in the long run.

-However, she is still left as a massive perfectionist, to the detriment of herself.

-Bisexual. Sandgorse was not a fan of this either.

-Bonded with Smokemask later in life, and felt very comfortable around him. She felt she could mess up in front of him and not beat herself up over it. She originally wasn't going to have kittens, in fear of restarting the cycle she experienced with her family, but felt confident about having them with Smokemask.

-Unfortunately, Smokemask was slain in a border skirmish with ShadowClan before their second litter was born. The stress of this, as well as the cold season and sickness, left Finchsong weakened, and she didn't survive her kitting, along with two of her kittens.

Smokemask:

-OC character, his parents are filler characters intended to help the gene pool a bit. Born shortly after Tall and Finch, he was mostly just casual friends with them before growing very close to Finchsong later in life.

-He didn't have a lot going on. Go boy give us nothing

-Also bi probably

-Was a more calm and chilled out character than anything to contrast with Finchsong's stressed and stubborn character.

-Was close to his son Longtail.

-Unfortunately died before meeting his second litter in a border skirmish.

Longtail:

-Finch and Smoke's firstborn, he was a single-kit litter. He's only about seven moons older than Sandstorm.

-Might have been in the skirmish that killed his dad. Whoops!

-More trans swag, also aro ace.

-Was devastated when his mother died, as he was very close to her. He was a worrywart over his baby sister, to the point where he was allowed to visit her in ThunderClan and build a relationship with her. He spent a lot of time in the nursery because of this and ended up becoming very good with children. (Minus Firepaw oops)

-When Sandkit wanted to stay in ThunderClan, he was torn. Deciding that he wanted his sister to be happy, but not wanting to be apart from her, he left WindClan so that she'd have some kin over there.

-This does become a point of insecurity for him, however. ThunderClan doubts his loyalty and the older warriors constantly question him when they're at conflict with WindClan. This makes it very easy for him to get sucked up into Tigerclaw's friend group, where he adapts their harmful mindset. He decides that to be a true ThunderClan warrior, he and Sandkit have to renounce their WindClan relation and prove himself by protecting ThunderClan from treacherous outsiders.

-This is part of why he's so antagonistic to Firepaw. He lashes out because this is his chance to prove that he's not like those outsiders. Plus, he feels pretty humiliated being on equal standing with a kittypet. At least HE'S clanborn.

-This gets worse when Sandstorm gets close to Fireheart, he doubles down, but after Tigerclaw's exile, he's thrown head first into what his life will be like if he keeps up his xenophobic beliefs. Slowly, but surely, he tries to patch things up with Fireheart and really empathize with him, realizing they're not so different and opening up to him. Xenophobia loss.

-He gets put through the wringer hard. It's canon compliant from here on out til Swiftpaw's death, which he takes extremely hard. Fireheart, despite their terrible past, is a shoulder for him to lean on during this time. At this point, Sandstorm is pregnant, and Longtail decides to put his faith in Fireheart and follow him.

-After Whitestorm's death, Fireheart makes Longtail deputy. He makes for a good deputy for most of the year, but steps down when he's blinded in the first book of TNP (there's a smaller time gap between TPB and TNP)

-Dotes on Sandstorm's descendants pretty hard

Sandstorm:

-Was the only surviving kit in Finchsong's second litter.

-There were no other queens in the nursery when Sandkit was born, so no one could feed her. Thinking fast, Barkface remembered that one of ThunderClan's mollies had had a litter very recently, and said that Sandkit should be taken there to be fed.

-Her foster siblings were Dustkit and Ravenkit. She grew very close to Dustkit in particular. Dust and Raven's mother was Nightdapple (AKA: Nightkit, Tigerclaw’s sister!) and their father is a currently undecided cat… he’s not important.

-Bluestar had agreed to give her back to WindClan when she was weaned, but Sandkit cried and cried and clung to her foster mother when the time came. She didn't want to leave the forest, not her mother or Dustkit. Tallstar tried to make her come back... but quickly realized that he would just be making her miserable, thinking back to his brief romance with Jake, where the latter was clearly miserable living as a wild cat full time. Knowing that ThunderClan's numbers had been cut down harshly after their recent plague and that Bluestar was worried about their population, Tallstar agreed to allow Sandkit to be a ThunderClan cat.

-Growing up, however, she definitely felt her clanmates' judgement for not being born in ThunderClan. Even her best friend Dustpaw seemed to agree that while she was a good friend, it made sense that not everyone trusted her for not being born there. Similar to Longtail, her hostility to other clan cats and Firepaw stemmed from this insecurity.

-Loved her older brother a lot and admired him. She was very offended that he lost to Firepaw, which made her resent him even more as an apprentice.

-She was horrified when WindClan was driven out, however.

-When Fireheart, Graystripe, Whitestorm, and Tigerclaw were sent to find WindClan, Sandpaw followed them, outraged that the kittypet was sent to find them instead of her. Fireheart and Graystripe bickered with her, asking why she was bothering with the journey. At first, she refused to tell them the real reason, embarrassed at what Fireheart may say about her heritage. But when Sandpaw nearly got hit by a monster on the thunderpath, Fireheart saved her, hurting himself in the process.

-As he's nursed back to health, Sandpaw stiffly thanked him for saving her. The two of them nearly bicker again, but it actually ended up being a nice enough conversation. Sandpaw finally tells Fireheart about her WindClan family, and how she felt out of place in ThunderClan sometimes because of it. And Fireheart... actually found a bit of comfort in that, knowing that someone else felt the same pressure he did to prove themself. The two of them realize they have far more in common and Sandpaw gave him a thorough apology for how she treated him when he was an apprentice.

-When they find WindClan, she felt very awkward, but Uncle Tallstar was exceedingly happy to see her. He immediately trusted the ThunderClan patrol because of her presence. The two of them bonded throughout the journey back home, Sandpaw feeling encouraged by Fireheart to reach out to her uncle and not renounce a relationship with him entirely.

-Despite running away, Whitestorm encouraged Bluestar to make Sandpaw a warrior after the journey.

-There's a pretty big shift in the original five apprentice group dynamic after this. Graystripe pulled away due to his relationship with Silverstream, and Fireheart ended up leaning more on Sandstorm. Sandstorm ended up feeling more comfortable around Fireheart than around Dustpelt, who spent more time parroting Tigerstar these days and making her feel like there were strings attached to their friendship. Fireheart never made her feel like she had to pretend to be someone she wasn't, and she ended up loving his thoughtful and determined nature. Her friendship with Dustpelt imploded when she snaps at him for making a cruel joke about WindClan, and though they reconcile later when Dustpelt gets better, they were never that close ever again.

-She and Fireheart get together in Rising Storm, and their first litter (Squirrelkit/Leafkit) was born in A Dangerous Path.