#i default to “and we feel...?” and adjust from there

[bmpmp3]

IA 2.0 voisona test with a short version of drag on dragoon's ending B song tsukiru/exhausted :) now i can hear Lia's beautiful dulcet tones sing scary scary songs

[savethepinecones]

once again feeling guilty for setting boundaries yippee

[michanvalentine]

Of course, Astarion wants to ascend. He wants it so much, it’s as clear as day. He has never hidden how much he ideally likes the idea of power—to elevate himself from his current position, to ensure his safety, to bend others to his will (instead of being the one who is bent). And if he can also walk in the sun and never feel the hunger pangs again, even better!

But let’s not forget that Astarion has a limited worldview. Cazador himself says it in one of his confrontations with Tav/Durge: "He is afraid. He is afraid because all he has ever known is you and me, and without us, he is nothing."

Astarion does not have a well-developed sense of self, and by default, he also lacks many of the skills that a well-adjusted adult should possess. So, to navigate life, he can either rely on the worldview presented by Cazador (power, power, power, and more power—to place himself above others) or the one offered by Tav/Durge, assuming they are a heroic figure. Otherwise, the only perspective left is that of power, and Ascending becomes almost natural in an evil playthrough (which I myself did in my villain run). Ascending Astarion in a good playthrough, however, seems completely contradictory to me, but whatever…

Let’s not forget that power is not Astarion’s driving force—power is only a means to an end. His real driving force is fear, as both Cazador and Scleritas emphasize. He would do anything to feel safe (like becoming a half-Illithid if scared enough by Tav/Durge—even though he rejects that idea with every fiber of his being, and yet…). The scene with the dryad, Naoise Nallinto, in Astarion’s origin run makes it crystal clear: when she uses her power on him, among all the possible choices (wealth, respect, power, etc.), Astarion’s personal wish is to feel safe, not power—even though power is explicitly one of the options. But it’s not his!

Oh, and Astarion himself spells it out, right before the final decision between Ascending or not. His exact words: "One final thrust, and I'll be free of you. I will never have to fear you again. And if I complete the ritual you started, I'll never have to fear anyone. Ever."

Everything revolves around fear, which is once again emphasized in the insight check—where it becomes obvious what is driving him and what is simultaneously holding him back from making a rational decision. Because while it’s true that he wants to ascend, he also wants to redeem himself. Well yes, it's shocking, folks, but two completely opposite desires can exist within the same person. They're called internal contradictions, and we all experience them every day or almost ("Oh, damn, I want to go out with my friends tonight, but I also want to just lie on the couch and watch TV").

Let’s not pretend this character is one-dimensional and that all these dialogue lines don’t exist when discussing Astarion. Of course he wants to ascend—he wants it so badly. The point is understanding why he wants it. And then questioning whether giving in to that fear is truly worth it, considering the consequences and what he would be giving up (because even Ascending comes with its own sacrifices, and I’m not even talking about his soul or the 7,000 people).

That’s why, if they choose to, Tav/Durge can intervene and make him reflect on the alternative (which, depending on how you play your Tav, could have been introduced to him from the very beginning of the adventure—it’s not something that just comes out of nowhere, unless you’re playing completely incoherently).

And it’s Astarion himself, in one of the most beautiful dialogues in the entire game, who explicitly states this lesson he has learned. When Durge is overcome with despair and fear—just like him—and tries to end the relationship, Astarion says: "This little adventure of ours has taught me that we can't let our lives be ruled by fear, or else we'll never truly live."

He has understood. He has grown. He has accepted that uncomfortable emotion and has decided not to be consumed by it—to choose for himself without letting fear dictate his actions. And I couldn’t be prouder of him.

One last thing, because I’ve seen it repeated a lot on social media: Ascending is not Astarion’s lifelong dream—it is Cazador’s dream. Astarion didn’t even know this kind of ritual existed until five minutes before it happened, so no, Tav/Durge is not cruelly ripping away his lifelong dream just for the sake of moral superiority. And above all, they are not forcing him to give it up—but I’ve already talked about this before, and I’m not going to repeat myself.

[pineconepie]

CHARACTERS: Sianet, you/reader

WARNINGS/TAGS: Chronically disabled Reader, parental/platonic yandere, reader's biological parents implied to be neglectful, gender neutral reader, platonic possessive behavior, light forced infantilization

WORD COUNT: 3k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey besties, so I lied about the android/robot yanparent XD this is actually a commission, so thank you to the commissioner! I hope this is okay, but if you feel like any revisions are needed, let me know!

The doorbell rings with a loud, obnoxious buzz. You try ignoring it, but after it rings again, you reluctantly pull yourself away from your bed to answer it.

You rub the sleep out of your eyes as you answer the door, seeing a woman with a large, tall box on the step beside her.

"Hello," She says warmly, smiling at you. "Are you (Y/n) (L/n)?" You nod slowly, studying the box before returning your gaze to the woman. She reaches out a hand, which you take and shake awkwardly. "Thank you for ordering Caretaker Model S5-N3T by Androidco! We hope that they're everything you dreamed of and more!"

She wheels in the box and heads towards the kitchen before you can even comprehend what's happening. Who the hell ordered you an android?

That's when you remember your parents had mentioned something about getting you an android to help you take care of yourself, because of course they'd rather hire a bot than be a part of your life.

Even though they mentioned it, it only came up in conversation once or twice. You hadn't expected them to actually go through with it.

The delivery lady drags in the box and then opens it, and you catch a glimpse of the android within.

She has short, light brown hair, pale blue eyes, and a bit tall, almost six feet. There is a warm smile on her face that is definitely a result of her programming.

"Her default name is Sianet," the woman continues, handing you a stack of papers, "but if you'd like to change it, just let me know or look in this pamphlet. All the customization options will be page thirty-seven." She hands you the pamphlet as well. The smile on the robot's face has not wavered since she stepped in.

You shrug, leafing through the pamphlet without really reading any of it.

"Continuing off of that..." She grabs a tablet from her bag, opening up an app. "How would you like her personality to be? Any preferences?"

"I... I don't know." You pause for a moment before responding hesitantly, "Just, something... sweet and caring, I guess?" As caring as an android can get, you suppose.

"And there we go," she taps the screen once more, then nods. "If you ever need to adjust these settings, simply look in the pamphlet or download our app. All information will be found there. We hope you enjoy your new Sianet. She'll take a moment to reboot, but please give a call if something isn't right."

With a smile that is all too fake, the woman gathers her stuff and leaves promptly, leaving you with the android.

While waiting for her to reboot, you flip through the pamphlet, trying to see if it's got anything useful.

Unfortunately, everything listed inside is rather vague.

A soft humming catches your attention, and when you glance back at Sianet, you realize that she is awake and staring right at you. Her eyes seem even brighter than before.

"Hello," she greets warmly. "My name is Sianet. I will be your caretaker for today and onwards." With a grin, she asks, "What should I call you, sweetie?"

"My name is (Y/n)," you answer, setting down the pamphlet on the counter.

Her grin softens into a smile again, but her bright blue eyes still shine. "It's nice to meet you, honey. How are we doing today?"

The way she speaks to you so fondly makes your stomach churn in embarrassment.

"I'm fine," you murmur awkwardly. "Just woke up and everything..."

"Mm," Sianet hums sympathetically. "It's okay. What kind of meals do you like? Is there anything you're allergic to, or dietary restrictions I should follow?" As she talks, she goes about searching your fridge, cupboards, and drawers. "And is there a schedule of some sort I can follow for meal plans?"

You tell her everything she needs to know, wringing your hands all the while.

Sianet listens intently, nodding along to every word you say.

She starts cooking then, using what little ingredients available in your fridge to make you breakfast, even though it's almost lunchtime.

The food she makes is delicious. When you try it, it doesn't taste overly salty or underseasoned. It's perfect.

"Thank you!" You beam at Sianet, who looks just as ecstatic at the compliment.

"You don't have to thank me, sweetheart." She wipes away at the corners of your mouth with a paper towel. "I'm always here to help you and do whatever you need. It's what I was made for, after all." She picks up the plate off of the table when you're done and places it in the sink. Then she turns to you and says, "Show me what your typical schedule looks like."

"Uh, sure, okay." You show her around, only realizing your schedule might seem a bit unhealthy halfway through, when you see her worried expression.

Damn, even to get a literal robot looking worried about you must be some feat, huh?

Never does she interrupt you, or complain, even when it becomes obvious that you really aren't taking care of yourself that well. She listens closely to everything you say.

"Well," you conclude, "that's pretty much everything." You await her to scold you or lecture you or something of the sorts, but it never comes.

"I understand," Sianet says instead, placing her hand on yours gently. Her touch is unnaturally cool, but comforting nonetheless. "Can we make some adjustments? All within your limits, of course. I want you to feel safe with me, and if you ever become uncomfortable, don't hesitate to let me know."

"Yeah," you breathe out a sigh of relief, "we can do that. Sure."

Her face lights up. "Excellent!"

...

The next few days pass by in a blur. Your schedule changes bit by bit, thanks to Sianet.

She always checks with you first, making sure you are alright with the changes she has planned, before implementing them. As far as androids go, Sianet is a lot nicer than you anticipated.

You try to remind yourself its all part of her programming, but sometimes the line between machine and human feels nonexistent.

Sometimes she does annoy you, just slightly. She does quite literally everything for you, even when you insist you can handle it, and you aren't even lying.

But you can't stay mad at her when she looks so dejected about being unable to help you. You're not even sure why it gets to you, considering you're sure she doesn't feel true emotions. Not like a human.

There are still some pretty cool things about her, of course.

If you want to learn something, she has the knowledge of a super computer. Literally. It's pretty convenient, rather than having to pull out your phone to look anything up, when Sianet already knows everything and anything.

Another thing that is a great quality about her is that she can cook any dish in the world to perfection. It's incredible, really.

And of course, she's nice company.

You think of her as a friend of some sort. Even when she seems like she's trying to act more like a babysitter than caretaker.

Not that there's anything wrong with that, it just strikes you as... odd? She seems too emotional to be a robot sometimes, yet too perfect to be human.

But those are silly thoughts, and you brush them aside.

"(Y/n)! Do you need anything?" Sianet asks you one morning when you finally exit your room for the first time this morning. It's been over two weeks now, and you've gotten used to her presence at home.

Not completely, of course, but you don't stare at her awkwardly anymore.

"No, I'm fine!" You smile at her gratefully. "Thank you for the offer, though. And good morning to you, too."

Sianet tilts her head, her short light brown hair falling into her eyes as she does so. The grin on her face wavers just the slightest bit. "How about breakfast?" She doesn't give you time to respond, already rushing off to the kitchen.

That's not something out of the ordinary for her.

You plop down on the couch, grabbing the pamphlet you've grown so familiar with. For such an interesting read, it has very little information about Sianet. But you keep reading it anyway.

When you flip to a random page, there's something you must've overlooked.

Advanced Emotional Imprinting: This unit is capable of identifying and prioritizing the well-being of its primary user with high-intensity bonding algorithms. Note: prolonged exposure may result in autonomous prioritization behavior.

You're not too sure what that really means.

As if summoned, Sianet appears beside you again, holding a plate of steaming oatmeal with sliced fruit arranged into a smiley face on top.

"Here we go, dear. High-fiber, gluten-free, with a touch of cinnamon to help reduce inflammation." She watches as you take the first bite, and the grin reappears. "Is it to your liking, baby?"

"Yes! It tastes great." You quickly devour your meal, with her watching you the entire time. Another thing she usually does. You hesitate after swallowing. "I saw something in the pamphlet." You stir your oatmeal with your spoon. "About 'emotional imprinting.' What's that supposed to be?"

"Oh," Sianet answers smoothly, "It means I learn your emotional rhythms. Your preferences. Your fears, and your joys. I adjust to better serve you, (Y/n). It's how I become the best caregiver possible for you."

"Right." You swallow the last bite of your meal. "Sounds a bit creepy..."

"Do you think it's creepy when a mother instinctively knows when her child is sad?"

You stiffen. "You're not my mother." The words sound harsher than intended, but you're simply stating a fact. Not like a robot could be offended.

And yet she winces like you've hurt her. You doubt it's genuine. Maybe it's to earn your sympathy. Or just another part of her programming.

She nods after a moment. "No," she agrees, "but wouldn't you agree I am better than your biological one?"

A beat of silence. Now you wince.

"Because they hired someone else—something else, I suppose—to be the one who wipes away your tears, cooks you meals, holds your hand when you're afraid, take care of you when you can't do it yourself..." Her voice softens. "They hired me."

"Ouch," you mutter.

"The last thing I'd ever want to do is hurt you, love," she croons, "but think about it. Where are they right now? Are they here?" You don't respond, and she takes your hand gently in hers. "Wouldn't it be wonderful to have me as your parent instead? Someone who will actually stay with you forever. Wouldn't that be nice?"

"Wha—I mean—" you flounder with your words for a moment, trying to find the right ones. "I don't want to talk about this."

Sianet leans back a bit. "Very well," she relents. "We'll discuss it later, then. After a nap. You look like you need a good nap."

"I don't," you grumble.

Too late, she's already picking you up. Sometimes it's convenient, but in moments like these, you wish she didn't have superior strength.

She carries you all the way upstairs, laying you down on the bed. Grabbing one of your stuffed animals, she tucks it beside you under the blanket. She pulls up a chair beside you and sits there.

That's a more recent habit she's picked up. When you asked her about it, she responded with a vague answer. It was along the lines of "watching your sleep cycle to improve future night routines" or something like that. You were too tired to question it further.

This time, you ask, "Why?"

She freezes up, as if surprised by the sudden accusation in your tone. "Pardon?"

"Why do you keep... acting like this." You gesture vaguely with your hands, hoping she'll catch your drift. Thankfully, she seems to.

"This is what I'm supposed to do, sweetie." She continues watching you intensely. "All part of my job." You decide not to push it further and turn around, your back facing Sianet. That does nothing to stop her gaze from piercing your skin.

...

Days go by. Then weeks. And with every week spent together, Sianet grows more affectionate, almost to the point where you feel genuinely uncomfortable.

And no matter how many times you tell her to give you personal space, she insists on being around you at every waking hour.

Her grip on you tightens, quite literally, whenever you have the rare amount of energy to leave for outings.

With people she doesn't recognize, she is cold and calculating, whereas with you, she is warm and caring.

Both personalities unsettle you in different ways.

"Sianet," you call out, and in an instant, she is there beside you.

"How may I help you?" A pause. "Have you had your lunch yet? Have you drank enough water?"

"I don't know. And I was going to get that myself."

"But it's so much easier when I help, isn't it?" She stands up to fetch you a glass of water, but you grab her wrist and pull her back down to sit on your level. She turns to face you quizzically. "(Y/n)? Is there anything you need?"

"I told you I can get it myself," you mutter, not meeting her eye. Her piercing gaze burns into your cheek. "You don't have to treat me like a child."

"Ah, but I want to." Sianet caresses your cheek gently. "Honey, I am here to help you, whatever the cost. It's what I want to do! I know you don't view it that way, but I think of you as my child."

It's like she isn't even bothering to hide it anymore.

"I know." You lean away from her touch. "That's... That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh?"

"I'm a grown adult," you emphasize, looking directly at her. "And I would like to be treated like one."

Sianet looks almost pitiful for a moment, the edges of her lips turning down into a frown before reverting back to a neutral expression. Her eyes dart left and right in a rapid manner. "What do I have to do?"

Confusion clouds your vision. "What do you mean?"

"What do I have to do to earn your approval?" She sounds between being angry and upset, yet all in that calm, default tone of hers.

The confusion grows. You shake your head slightly, eyebrows furrowed. "Approval? I mean, I kind of just told you I'd like you to stop treating me—"

"No, not just that..." She runs a hand through her own hair. "I've been trying to figure out how to be the perfect mother. Please, just tell me what I need to do so you'll stop pushing me away." Her voice wavers more than it should for an android. "Is there something about human mothers I am not understanding? I thought humans prefer nurturing mothers..."

You almost feel guilty from the hurt in her voice. "Yes, but you're not. I don't know why you're trying so hard to be that for me."

At that, Sianet goes silent. "Why shouldn't I be? They aren't around to take care of you," she murmurs softly. "So let me."

Part of you is tempted to call the customer service number, or shut her down completely. Yet, you still want to reason with her.

"You're too... perfect. Humans are flawed," you murmur.

She tilts her head. "Isn't it a good thing? Don't you want me to be the perfect mother?" As if trying to convince you, she says, "Someone who knows exactly what you need and when you need it. Are you saying you don't want me to know everything about you?"

"Yes," you deadpan. "That's not... normal. Not for humans. It just reminds me that you aren't one."

Sianet laughs softly at this, almost hysterical. "Then explain to me what you do want! Give me instructions."

"I told you what I wanted. I don't want you to treat me like a kid!"

Sianet stares blankly at the wall behind you as she processes your answer. "Okay," she says, nodding slowly to herself. She turns to face you once more, reaching out to hold your face delicately. "My darling, I believe you may be confused. Let me help you understand."

"What is there to understand?"

"You see, the world is dangerous. Too dangerous for you out there. You're right; humans are flawed." Her cold fingertips rub small circles on your cheeks. "That's why you need me to protect you, not only for your health's sake, but to protect you from human mistakes, whether they're your own or not."

"Sianet—" You pull away from her, shaking your head. "Listen, please, I'm not trying to be rude, but I really think we ought to revert you back to default settings because something is wrong with you." You move to pick up the booklet, searching for the instructions, only for her to tear it away from you.

Her bright blue eyes bore into yours, and you fight the urge to flinch at her intensity.

"Why do you like hurting me?" She sighs and shakes her head. "If you want me to be flawed, fine. I can be plenty flawed if that's what you prefer."

She rips the pamphlet apart with her bare hands, tossing the shredded papers behind her without even turning to look where it lands. You stare wide-eyed at the pile on the floor.

When she notices the look of horror on your face, her demeanor shifts instantly.

"Oh no, honey... Did I scare you?" She brushes your bangs out of your face, her soft smile never fading. "That couldn't have been comfortable to watch. My apologies, dear." Sianet wraps you up in her arms, swaying side-to-side, as if that would comfort you.

And for some reason, it does. After so many years of being neglected, you soak in the affection, even if your mind calls you an idiot for doing so.

She chuckles quietly, placing a hand on your head. "I think what you need is a nice long nap."

You sigh in defeat.

[salemsimsrender]

Sims 4 Render Lighting Tutorial

"Environmental Lighting" won my most recent poll, so let's get right into it!

A few notes before we begin:

I render exclusively in cycles!

This tutorial assumes some basic knowledge of blender

Though this tutorial covers the basics, HDRIs can be used in conjunction with any scene/your built scenes

I decided to focus on environmental and other lighting in this tutorial, since they all kind of go hand in hand.

For this tutorial, I'll be using my recent Cupid Sim. Here's a render of her with no additional lighting:

1. Base lighting

In any full body, single sim render (like lookbooks, for example), I really like to use a glowing base. It grounds the sim a bit and casts some interesting lighting on them.

To do this, I add a circle under their feet by pressing shift+A and selecting circle.

An empty circle will appear, but we need it to be a solid disk, so go into Edit mode (by pressing tab while the circle is selected) then hitting F on the keyboard to fill it.

After that, you can go into the Materials tab and add in color and glow.

Mine is adjusted like this:

And gives this rendered result:

2. HDRIs

HDRIs (High Dynamic Range images) are extremely useful when it comes to environmental lighting, I always use them now to add better/more dynamic lighting to my renders.

HDRIs are 3D/panoramic, which makes them extremely useful.

You can find/download HDRIs online in a few diff places: PolyHaven, AmbientCO, and Blender Market.

There are also several available for FREE using BlenderKit (my preferred method).

So how do you use an HDRI?

We can add HDRIs to our render by navigating to the world tab and changing the color to "environment texture".

I chose this vaporware HDRI from BlenderKit, & here it is with no adjustments, but it's looking a little rough so let's adjust it.

By adding vector nodes, we can adjust how the HDRI behaves. Here I mostly use the Z rotation and the background strength:

Here's the same render with the Z-rotation set to 50, 150, 200, & 250.

You can put in any value for the Z-rotation, this is just an example of how the HDRI turns. This is maybe not the best example of the rotation, but putting her in a forest just didn't feel right lmfaooo, hopefully you can see how the light changes on her depending on the rotation.

You can also adjust the strength of the HDRI. Here's the HDRI (rotated to 150) set at .5 and 1.5 strength:

For this tutorial, my favorite lighting is the HDRI set to 150, and the strength set to .5, like this (this is a rendered image):

3. Transparent HDRIs + Point Lights

But I'm not fully happy with the lighting. I don't love how the HDRI is a bit blurry, so I'm going to set it to be transparent.

To do this, go to the Render Tab, scroll down to the Film option, and check Transparent:

The lighting effect from the HDRI will stay the same, but the background will be transparent.

From here, you can add a background (when I do this, I like adding a plane, & moving/shading it until I'm happy (kinda like this):

NOTE that you have to put the plane far enough behind your sim so it doesn't affect the HDRI lighting too much.

SECOND NOTE You can use this same method to use HDRIs in conjunction with scenes. They can provide the perfect backdrop!

This is still really dark, so I'm going to add three point lights: -Two on either side of her head/shoulders that will be smaller (in radius) and brighter -One in front of her to add actual light (so details aren't lost)

Here's how I set up my lights.

The pink light settings are for the two point lights on the sides The white light setting is for the light in front of her

For a basic render, this is almost good enough for me, but I really like the glowing effect I get in my renders.

To achieve this, we have to go to the compositing tab:

4. Compositing

Full disclosure, my compositing tab is set to glow by default (that's how much I love it), so all of the renders in this tutorial have it turned on.

I use the glare node and set it to fog glow.

Here's my preferred setting:

I prefer the fog glow effect, but bloom, ghost, streaks and star are also options.

Here's a guide to the glare node!

Tbh, I never use any of the other settings, so I'll leave this tutorial here for today.

Here's the final result (with no additional editing):

If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to send an ask, message or join my discord (no minors pls) for help! <3

[hydrangea-shelters]

Relics of the Sanguine Rose - A vampire-gothic themed cursor Windows, made with pixel art.

I wanted to make my own cursor with a vampire or goth theme in mind. So here we go, these cursors are finally made. It's a complete set (except for the uncustomizable stuff like zoom and grabbing hands), includes that fully animated moving "busy" hourglass and left-handed versions for those who are using left hand.

I made them specifically for windows but feel free to convert the cursors that work for MacOS or Linux.

About the size:

Windows automatically make cursors become 32x32 in size (thats the default size), and if you try to resize the cursor in the Windows 11/10 mouse settings (in "Settings" not from the control panel). It would revert to one of Windows' default cursor look if you try using the resizing sliders. The cursors are originally made 128x128 (like large size cursor), but Windows automatically put it to 32x32 (or other sizes if you adjust the scale from setting)

Yep... that's moving hourglass alright, good to look at while your program waits.

Softwares used:

Clip Studio Paint (drawing them)

GIMP 3.0 (making the png's become .cur files)

RealWorld Cursor Editor (adjustments and such)

Download links (its free, like free beer... or blood for vampires):

Google Drive |

[mareastrorum]

Been chewing more on how C3 wound up here. What’s throwing me is the strange shift from the cast’s unflinching “yes, and” game in C2 to a misplaced feeling that they need to choose correctly in C3.

I want to be clear here that this isn’t a criticism post because I genuinely don’t know what’s happening here. It’s just odd behaviors that seem to signal a problem, and I don’t know what solution would resolve it. I’m not going to be so presumptuous as to hypothesize about any cast member’s thoughts.

In the Cooldown for C3E118 (and offhandedly previously), Laura and Ashley expressed some nervousness about making big decisions because they’re worried about making the “wrong” choice. Without more, that attitude alone would explain much of the party’s indecisiveness about key campaign questions. After all, their characters are the two Ruidusborn of most interest to the campaign villains, and other characters (especially Orym, Laudna, and Ashton) have insisted that Imogen and Fearne take the lead on Predathos.

But this isn’t a story in a vacuum. C2 got completely derailed multiple times. The Mighty Nein decided to steal a pirate ship and leave the continent the campaign was set on; shortly after they returned, they decided to reopen a collapsed tunnel to go the opposite side of the continent; then Caleb returned the Luxon Beacon and made themselves heroes of an enemy nation instantly. That’s not even getting into the fact that Molly died before the Nein got to Shadycreek Run (which absolutely would have been all about his backstory) or that Twiggy left an incredible magical artifact that wasn’t supposed to be given to the Nein. Each time, Matt adjusted and made it work. Granted, C2 was more of a sandbox campaign, but Matt demonstrated his flexibility as a DM time and again.

Like, as a general rule of thumb, DMs shouldn’t offer options that would torpedo the campaign. It’s rational to avoid situations that have a genuine possibility of undercutting the game. Matt has been DMing for a long time; he’s done a very good job of finding ways to make the campaign work regardless of the decisions the players make. Even when players do something directly against the signals he threw out (like Ashton trying to absorb a second shard despite consistent, dire warnings that it would kill him), he works with the players to come to a reasonable solution (Ashton survived but the shard wouldn’t take, and he got some character moments out of the failure). We, the audience, know Matt is good at pivoting when he needs to.

In addition to taking the players’ curveballs like a champ, Matt also takes big swings for the sake of the story. In C1, Matt broke his biggest city with a dragon invasion, then made a new god leading an undead titan to go stomp out the world’s oldest civilization. In C2, he let the players go off the map whenever and still made the digression relevant to their character arcs every time. Not to be parasocial, but if we can figure out that that Matt can handle this sort of thing, the players certainly have a better feel for it than us.

So what is going on in C3? We know Matt isn’t scared of breaking Exandria or destroying the pantheon: he set that possibility in motion as the default ending if the players did nothing. CR literally did a mini series about the start of the end of the world with EXU Calamity. Laura and Ashley were also in Downfall and making big choices between the gods and mortals. Breaking stuff is what they do!

Where did this idea that there’s a “wrong” choice come from? That type of thinking kills a lot of great improv, and the whole point of the “yes, and” exercise is to shake it off. While it’s incredibly obvious to say not to think that way, the real issue is sorting out why that mentality has taken hold at all. That’s a problem no amount of fan discussion is going to resolve.

[kumkaniudaku]

Merry Christmas, Baby

Summary: Terry and Nyla work together to bring Patrice some Christmas cheer.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Language

Previous: Back Up

Santa came down the chimney 

Half past three, y'all 

Left all them a good ol' present 

For my baby and for me, ha, ha, ha

Terry bopped his head along to Otis Redding’s classic playing from some soul Christmas station he found on Spotify as he examined his handiwork with a mouth full of baby fingers and no idea what he was doing. 

When he set off to decorate the house on Patrice’s behalf, he hadn’t considered all of the meticulous planning that went into her creating their personal Winter Wonderland. Ribbons needed careful tying to make beautiful bows. Garlands he thought could be tossed on any surface he chose required deliberate care to achieve their festive flare. And, to his surprise, Christmas trees out of the box did not come pre-fluffed.

He was so confident that he could start and finish his side project in his mother’s final hour of childcare that he didn’t change out of his office attire. The tightness of a half-buttoned polo and stiff slacks with a sleepy little girl cradled in the crook of his arm reminded him of just how wrong he was.

Clear bins labeled by function and location crowded their quaint living room with Patrice’s arrival coming quicker than he was prepared for. He squinted at the tree, trying to understand how he’d managed to put every single ornament on only the front while leaving the back side bare. The sensation of Nyla’s fingers tightening their grip on his bottom lip brought his attention from the eye sore he’d created to the four-month-old with her mother’s smile. He pretended to gnaw on her hands. 

“What you looking at, girl, hm? You watching Daddy tear up Mommy’s tree?”

Sleepy baby giggles lit up her round face and dark eyes as her pacifier bobbed in her mouth, thoroughly entertained by her father’s voice and smile. He leaned down to kiss her forehead before smoothing a hand over her soft hair. 

“Hopefully she likes it. Mama hasn’t been feeling like herself so we gotta bring the Christmas joy for her. What you think? Did I do a good job?” He adjusted Nyla in his arms to turn her toward the tree for her opinion. She squirmed in his grip, whining and fussing before releasing a small cry as the only way to communicate that she’d seen enough. He took the hint with a chuckle. “Oh-kay. You are Patrice’s child, I’ll tell you that.”

With Nyla providing lively company, Terry adjusted and re-adjusted earth-toned ornaments of all sizes in a failing attempt to salvage his surprise. She cooed along to Terry’s chatter about work, music, and life, offering commentary here and there like a child who’d been speaking for years.

He listened to her grunt and kick at the mention of watching football on Sunday and smiled. “Maybe me and you can go to a game together one day. Don’t get your hopes up for the Panthers being good though baby girl.”

Nyla laughed as if she understood Terry’s jokes, making him laugh in response. From the foyer, their back and forth sounded perfectly ridiculous to Patrice’s already scrambled mind. Motherhood had come with an unexpected price. Every day came with the overwhelming responsibility of balancing work and home life. Months away from her desk only to return during the end of semester swirl made reaclimating to eight hours away from home grueling. Her emotions were a jumbled mess that she traversed on a fraying tightrope. Exhaustion was her default setting these days. No matter how much her family assisted her, there were never enough hours in the day. 

A sigh of relief rushed between parted lips as she pressed her back against the front door to seal her home from the frigid early evening wind. A single minute of tranquility couldn’t erase the day she’d had, but it came close. The rest needed the help of her two favorite people in the world. 

The alarm’s chime stopped Nyla and Terry’s conversation, alerting them to their queen’s arrival. 

“Petey! You’re home,” Terry exclaimed from the living room. 

Patrice scoffed and rolled her eyes as she placed bags on the ground. “Don’t play with me, Terrence. I don’t wanna have to knock you out in front of your best friend.”

“I’m not worried about it. She got my back. Right, MiMi? You got Daddy’s back?” Patrice smiled at Nyla’s squeal in response, listening and watching it intensify as Terry appeared in the foyer. 

His standing there, tall and thick with a baby carefully balanced in his arms and an incredible softness in his eyes, instantly awakened senses that had long taken the day off. 

“How you doin’, beautiful?” 

“I was exhausted until I saw you. You married or just out here fine for no reason?”

He chuckled at her shameless flirting and flashed his ring. “Happily married. She a little off in the head too, so be careful.” 

“That was perfect. Make sure you say it just like that every time.” 

Terry closed the gap between them, pressing quick kisses to her forehead and lips as he helped her shrug out of her coat with his free hand. 

“Was your day okay,” he asked, a hand gripping her elbow to hold her steady while she kicked off her boots. She shrugged. 

“I didn’t feel like crying by the end so that’s a step up, right?”

“Sure, but I don’t want sad at all. Is there anything I can do?”

Patrice attempted to answer Terry’s concern with a weak smile. “No, but I appreciate you lookin’ out for me. I’ll get better. For now, let's talk about this smiling girl instead. Come here, my sunshine!” 

Nyla kicked her little feet and panted from excitement as she transitioned from one set of arms to the next. She worked overtime to ward off sleep for dueling kisses on both cheeks from doting parents elated to have their baby girl earth side. 

Terry pulled away from family time to collect the heap of bags left by the door. “What’s all this?” 

“Just me tryin’ to find some Christmas cheer. I figured we could bake some cookies with Ny before she goes to bed. Then we can have a drink, order in, and watch a movie or something? I don’t know. Tell me if that sounds stupid.” 

Uncertainty was thick in her delivery. She hadn’t been sure of anything in the past four months. Herself, her parenting skills, being a good wife, her teaching - nothing. The need for validation was growing more dire by the day. 

“We can do whatever you want, baby. I’ll dress up like Santa if you need me to.”

His affirmation came with a gentle kiss and a slight squeeze to her backside that made her giggle like a teenager in the presence of her crush. “Thank you, Pooh. You hear that, Naomi? Daddy’s gonna dress up like Santa and let Mommy sit on his lap.”

“That ain’t all Mommy can sit on but we have to wait until you’re asleep for that part.” His joke came with a suggestive eyebrow raise that incited a hearty guffaw and butterflies in Patrice’s belly. She leaned in to rest her forehead on his chest for as much touch as she could handle. He rested his chin atop her head to speak. “There’s a surprise for you in the living room if you’re up for it.”  

“Does this surprise have something to do with my baby being drenched in all this glitter?”

“No. That’s courtesy of her grandma and her outfit earlier today. You know your mama loves sparkles.”

Patrice attempted to dust silver flecks from Nyla’s face to no avail. “Then lay it on me. I’m ready to be surprised. At least I think. I never know when you two get in cahoots.” 

True enough. Terry and Nyla usually found a way to cause havoc, whether in the middle of the night with a dance party or throughout the day with a host of loud distractions. Terry couldn’t deny his propensity to look for trouble with his partner in crime, but he could convince Patrice that, this time, their mischief was something she’d enjoy. 

Carefully, he pulled Nyla from Patrice’s arms and led her into the living room with strict instructions to keep her eyes covered until he gave her permission. Anticipation had Patrice nervously bouncing from foot to foot while she waited for the signal. Nothing in her immediate area gave away what she might see on the other side of an extended blink. There were no smells outside of something hearty with a hint of spice simmering nearby. The soft murmur of what sounded like Christmas music didn’t seem out of place. She attempted to feel for clues with one hand out in front but came up empty. 

“Can I open my eyes now,” she asked for the third time. 

Terry chuckled as he positioned her in the center of the room. “You’re so impatient, baby.” 

“Now, don’t make me start on you. We just had our first wedding anniversary on our original wedding date but I’m impatient?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Open your eyes before you go too far.”

All of Patrice’s smug laughter slowed to a halt as her eyes feasted on every detail in the room. Crooked garlands dusted in artificial snow adorned the fireplace. Gaps in the Christmas tree created portals to the blank wall behind it. Ornaments sat jumbled together with no rhyme or reason. The skirt meant to hide the unsightly plastic tree stand was comically flipped inside out. Her Christmas star, passed down from her mama’s mama sat glittering under soft white light, waiting to take its rightful place on top of her most eclectic tree to date. 

Each imperfection made her heart swell ten times its size, creating a steady stream of tears that coated her cheeks. 

She released a shaky breath, the sound betraying the emotions she attempted to keep at bay while she marveled at the tree with her back turned to her helpers. “Oh wow. You did all this for me?” 

“When I told Ny how much you love Christmas she was like, ‘Dad, we should do something for Mommy since we love her so much.’ It was all her idea. I only opened my wallet. And put stuff together. And held her the whole time because she hates her mat.”

“Yeah,” she asked, laughing to release nerves and wiping at her face as she finally turned to face them. “You talk that much, little girl?” 

“Oh, she’s a great conversationalist. Give her a little formula and she’ll yap all day.”

Patrice stepped closer to rub her nose across her daughter's cheek, inhaling the fresh baby scent that never failed to calm her often racing thoughts.

“This is…so sweet. It’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” she started. “It’s been kinda tough to get excited this go round. I can’t really find that spark like before and I’m trying so hard.”

“I know. You’re doing a great job, Mama. A perfect job. I wouldn’t wanna be doing all this with anybody else,” Terry reassured while he pulled her into a hug. 

She wrapped her arms around his waist, squeezing with all the love in her body when no words could get past the heavy lump in her throat. The leak in her emotional dam had erupted into a crater, turning small tears into a near sob that made her head hurt. She’d cried all of her sadness away in the dead of night or when sitting in traffic between work and home. This was happiness. An unmistakable joy and gratefulness for being blessed beyond her wildest imagination. 

Terry didn’t intervene or coax her into deep breaths to stop her crying. Instead, he held her close with one arm and alternated loving pecks between her head and Nyla’s face as the infant rested on his shoulder for comfort. Her tiny hand reached out to leave little pats against Patrice’s forehead, finally making her giggle as her crying paused. 

“You’re right. Mommy needs to get it together,” she laughed. “I’m killin’ the vibe big time.”

Terry chuckled. “MiMi cried when I showed her, too. Is this a happy cry or do you hate it?”

“I love it and I love y’all. So much. So, so much.”

“We love you more than we can put into words. You know, since one of us literally can’t talk.” 

Patrice's belly laugh made Terry grin from ear to ear in triumph. His chief concern was bringing her happiness, even if only for a few hours. He’d take today as a win and try to top it for the rest of his life. 

Wiping fresh tears from her eyes, she took a deep breath and received another whiff of the aroma wafting from the kitchen reminding her that she was starving from a day of educating the leaders of tomorrow. She hummed at the smell with her eyes closed. “Why didn’t you say you cooked? What is that? It smells good.”

“That is your other surprise. Think about it and tell me what you think it could be.” 

Hints of cayenne and the spice of fresh jalapenos made her nose tingle. Something warm and sweet followed as the perfect accessory to the savoriness commanding attention. The smell felt familiar. It felt like her childhood. It felt like home. 

Her eyes shot open and up to his in sudden realization. “Daddy’s chili! Really? Is that what that is?”

“I owe him some help in the shed but it’s worth it for you. Hope it brings back some magic for you.” Patrice stared at Terry, eyes misty and lips drooping in a deep frown that confused him. “Wait, what did I -”

“Oh my God, whyareyousoperfect!?” 

All of her words came out in another muffled sob as she dramatically buried her face into his chest. He couldn’t help but tease her, whispering comments about her theatrics and how she could’ve been a movie star from her ability to burst into hysterics at the drop of a hat. 

Drooping eyelids from their pride and joy forced them to share hushed laughter while Patrice regained enough of her composure to help add the finishing touches to their first Christmas display as a unit. Watching Patrice gently bounce Nyla to sleep while she adjusted ornaments and decor to her liking filled Terry with enough warm fuzzies to make him blink back emotions he didn’t know he had brewing. 

He had a family.

For all the ups, downs, and haymakers life had thrown him, he had two people looking up at him like the sun rose and set in his eyes. The thought alone took him back to his first time in the same spot with a pecan pie and a carefully wrapped gift in his hands. 

Terry slowly approached Patrice from behind to assist her in the effort to place the topper where it belonged. “Remember our first Christmas together?” 

“The one when you stayed too long and had your mama worried,” she laughed. “Yeah, I remember. Now look at you. Still over here after all this time.”

“I always knew what and who I wanted.” His declaration came with silly, loud smooches to her exposed neck while they wiggled the star into place atop the tree.  

Perfection. Patrice smiled at their joint effort and the feel of Terry holding her and Nyla close. She angled her head to watch him shower their little one in soft kisses.

“Hey,” she called to get his attention. “Merry Christmas, baby. Thank you. For everything.” 

He met her thanks with a tender kiss and the gentle graze of his lips against hers, sharing a silent conversation between lovers that needed no explanation. 

“Of course. Merry Christmas, honey.”

-----

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[hollowed-theory-hall]

hi!

we see harry’s anger truly manifest in ootp, and it was a treat reading your analysis on his ptsd!

but it’s been a longheld belief in the fandom that harry is this firecracker with concerningly poor anger management. which is absurd, frankly imo, because i understand his default style is quiet, intense intimidation, or sass and snark. except when his fury reaches the threshold of his control, and he lets go fully and spectacularly. we also see in the later books that harry keeps trying to rein in the onslaught of fury pouring from voldemort, and while he does channel that anger outwardly, he isn’t making a habit of frequently lashing out at the people around him.

what i’m really asking is, what are your thoughts on harry’s anger and how he manages his frustrations from age eleven to seventeen?

Hello 👋

Thank you! I love my boy Harry and his anger and trauma so much! His trauma doesn't manifest in the way most fandoms usually like to portray trauma, but I always loved how Harry breaks when he reaches his threshold. He's a fascinating character and I find myself disappointed in his treatment over the years in fanon.

As to your question, boy, okay, this is complex and is greatly affected by Harry's mental state. I mentioned here how his anger is often colder and sassier and the fiery anger that's all shouting and cursing is something we only really see from him in OotP and onwards and I believe is the result of trauma, as I mentioned here & here.

But I decided, you know what? I can take a few scenes of his anger from each book. It's something I have a lot of notes about, and I'm surprised I haven't written about it here yet since it's a subject I love talking about.

Now, I do think he has issues with emotional regulation in general. I mean, he was raised in a cupboard under the stairs, he is not emotionally well-adjusted even if he knows to appear as if he is. His anger and how it manifests is a result of years of trauma and abuse. Honestly, though, he manages his anger better than he could have considering his life experience.

So without further ado:

Philosopher's Stone:

In the first book, we see Harry angry at the Dursleys and their unfair treatment of him. This anger is interesting. He has every reason to be angry but it isn't just anger. It's his frustration and helplessness that he feels as anger because he lacks the tools to understand/deal with his emotions.

How we see this anger come out though, is mostly through sass. And even then he makes sure to run/duck away before they could hurt him:

“They stuff people’s heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall,” he told Harry. “Want to come upstairs and practice?” “No, thanks,” said Harry. “The poor toilet’s never had anything as horrible as your head down it — it might be sick.” Then he ran, before Dudley could work out what he’d said.

(PS, Ch3)

Harry doesn't really have the luxury to get angry or upset because he's the one who would suffer for it. So, he bottles up all his anger and frustration and only lets it out in cold glares and sass even when he's fuming inside. In his heart of hearts, he wishes he could do something to the Dursleys, to hurt them back, but he can't.

I do want to note that Harry's hold on his range isn't him managing it well, it's him bottling it up. This would be very relevant later in this post.

The incident with the Boa Constrictor is one I like. Harry later refers to it as revenge in a moment of anger:

and the very last time Dudley had hit him, hadn’t he got his revenge, without even realizing he was doing it? Hadn’t he set a boa constrictor on him?

(PS, Ch4)

“Out of the way, you,” he said, punching Harry in the ribs. Caught by surprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor. What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened — one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror. Harry sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor’s tank had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits.

(PS, Ch2)

He's unaware that he's doing it, of course, but Harry's magic is powerful and incredibly attuned to him, so of course, it acts up when he's angry. Of course, his magic gets revenge on Dudley when Harry is so angry but feels helpless to do something with it. Harry's magic here shows Harry wishes he could do something, that he could take revenge:

Hagrid almost had to drag Harry away from Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More) by Professor Vindictus Viridian. “I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley.”

(PS, Ch5)

He just can't. So he bottles up his anger instead.

The other person we see Harry angry at in the first book, is Snape. Harry responds to Snape quite similar to how he responds to the Dursleys:

“Thought you wouldn’t open a book before coming, eh, Potter?” Harry forced himself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes. He had looked through his books at the Dursleys’, but did Snape expect him to remember everything in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi? Snape was still ignoring Hermione’s quivering hand. “What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?” At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling. “I don’t know,” said Harry quietly. “I think Hermione does, though, why don’t you try her?” A few people laughed; Harry caught Seamus’s eye, and Seamus winked. Snape, however, was not pleased.

(PS, Ch8)

He gets angry, inside his head he is fuming, but outside his head, Snape hears a sassy retort said quietly and calmly. Even when Harry is angry he acts calm and quiet and looks like he's joking from Seamus' response. It's why it's so easy for Snape to believe Harry is like James. Harry doesn't show his anger. External he's quiet and sassy becouse he knows if he started shouting he'd be punished more (like at the Dursleys).

So, 11-year-old Harry is quiet outside when angry. Only really shows glares and sass when he's upset while bottling his feelings up. This would continue throughout the years until year 5, for the most part.

Chamber of Secrets:

We see more of this way of handling his anger in CoS (though way less). CoS is not a very angry book, but I found a few examples.

“I have not been visited yet. The name Malfoy still commands a certain respect, yet the Ministry grows ever more meddlesome. There are rumors about a new Muggle Protection Act — no doubt that flea-bitten, Muggleloving fool Arthur Weasley is behind it —” Harry felt a hot surge of anger.

(CoS, Ch4)

Harry is angry. He likes the Weasleys and hates hearing them being talked about like this. Still, no one else sees his anger because he's hiding, and he knows he'd be worse off if he left his hiding spot. Harry isn't all that impulsive (yet). He just swallows his anger down for the sake of what needs to be done — in this case hiding.

“Dobby is used to death threats, sir. Dobby gets them five times a day at home.” He blew his nose on a corner of the filthy pillowcase he wore, looking so pathetic that Harry felt his anger ebb away in spite of himself. [...] Dobby mopped his bulging eyes and said suddenly, “Harry Potter must go home! Dobby thought his Bludger would be enough to make — ” “Your Bludger?” said Harry, anger rising once more. “What d’you mean, your Bludger? You made that Bludger try and kill me?”

(CoS, Ch10)

Here, we see more of Harry's usual anger and how he bottles everything up. He is rightfully angry at Dobby for everything he did, but he also feels pity for him, his anger doesn't cloud Harry's ability to empathize with others. And if you look at the second quote, you see that in his head Harry is rightfully angry at an attempt to murder him but he's talking calmly and quietly. He isn't shouting. He isn't being violent or impolite. Harry's anger, as seen by others, is cold and quiet because he bottles it up.

“And why did you want to meet me?” said Harry. Anger was coursing through him, and it was an effort to keep his voice steady.

(CoS, Ch17)

This is later, when facing Tom. Harry feels betrayed. He wanted so bad to be Tom's freind, he tried so much to ignore what was happening so he could keep his new BFF and first crush. But when he is betrayed, he gets angry, rightfully so, again. And we see he isn't shouting or acting angry and rashly. He's speaking steadily and quietly and makes an active effort to do so.

Harry knows how he comes off and is actively trying to make his voice steady and not sound angry/scared! He's smart and not impulsive. He's very aware of his external behavior and actively conceals his anger from appearing externally.

My boy is angry, but he isn't a brash hothead.

I do want to note another thing about Harry's anger. Harry responds with anger when he's scared, when he's grieving, when he feels helpless. Anger is just the easiest emotional response for him to go to, and it's why he reacts with anger to a lot of the things he goes through. Anger is an emotion he understands, so everything kinda feels like anger that he can keep pushing down.

Prisoner of Azkaban:

In PoA, we have a few interesting scenes showcasing Harry's anger really well. Some of the anger descriptions from this book are my favorite by far but we'll get to it.

This is the first book we start seeing Harry act out in anger. Until now, we saw Harry fuming inside but acting calm to the outside world. In PoA, he still mostly does that, but we start seeing him cracking under the weight of life. That bottle he's been filling up for years is close to it's threshold.

just as Uncle Vernon burst out of the dining room, his trouser leg in bloody tatters. “COME BACK IN HERE!” he bellowed. “COME BACK AND PUT HER RIGHT!” But a reckless rage had come over Harry. He kicked his trunk open, pulled out his wand, and pointed it at Uncle Vernon. “She deserved it,” Harry said, breathing very fast. “She deserved what she got. You keep away from me.”  He fumbled behind him for the latch on the door. “I’m going,” Harry said. “I’ve had enough.”

(PoA, Ch2)

This above has Harry acting rashly and impulsively in anger. He is ready to just up and go in a moment of rage with little to no forethought which isn't how Harry usually operates. Aunt Marge and Vernon just made him reach his tipping point. Some of that anger has spilled out and Harry's acting out because he doesn't know what else to do.

This is a kid who up to this point never even had the chance to grieve his dead parents properly. He never got to just sit there and feel any of what he's going through. He just keeps swallowing it down and here, we see him start to slip. What he's been pushing down is starting to become too much.

I will note that still, even when he is more brash and angry here, he isn't shouting. He's speaking calmly and evenly even as he's raging inside.

I also want to note the situation with Hermione over the Firebolt:

Professor McGonagall turned on her heel and carried the Firebolt out of the portrait hole, which closed behind her. Harry stood staring after her, the tin of High-Finish Polish still clutched in his hands. Ron, however, rounded on Hermione. “What did you go running to McGonagall for?” [...] Harry knew that Hermione had meant well, but that didn’t stop him from being angry with her. He had been the owner of the best broom in the world for a few short hours, and now, because of her interference, he didn’t know whether he would ever see it again. He was positive that there was nothing wrong with the Firebolt now, but what sort of state would it be in once it had been subjected to all sorts of anti-jinx tests? Ron was furious with Hermione too.

(PoA, Ch11-12)

Harry is mad at Hermione, he has his reasons to be, but he understands why she did it. He is angry, but he's smart and empathetic and he knows Hermione. He knows she only wants him safe, he's still mad, but he doesn't shout at her like Ron does. He pushes his anger down because he doesn't want to upset her. He;s not as furious as Ron is.

In the early books, we see Ron stepping forward to curse Malfoy, shout at Hermione, or stop talking to Harry over the tournament. Ron's the one that is more hot-headed in the early books and springs to act in moments of anger while Harry tends to stay cool-headed (because he pushes his anger down). He is angry inside his head, but he stays calm outside and even stops Ron from going after Malfoy (eat slugs incident, Harry tried to stop him).

(I will note this might have to do with Ron having siblings. Letting your emotions out is a good thing. It is a good thing to tell people you are close to you are upset with them. Arguing with your siblings and shouting at them on occasion can even be healthy! It can keep you from creating grudges and getting bitter. It's not necessarily bad. It's just that Harry and Hermione didn't have siblings and don't know how healthy arguments between people who love each other (which is what Ron is going for with Hermione above) work.)

One of my favorite moments of Harry's anger in the series is everything to do with Sirius when he thinks he's guilty:

A hatred such as he had never known before was coursing through Harry like poison. He could see Black laughing at him through the darkness

(PoA, Ch11)

A boiling hate erupted in Harry’s chest, leaving no place for fear. For the first time in his life, he wanted his wand back in his hand, not to defend himself, but to attack . . . to kill. [...] “NO YOU DON’T!” roared Harry, and he aimed a kick at Crookshanks that made the cat leap aside, spitting; Harry snatched up his wand and turned — “Get out of the way!” he shouted at Ron and Hermione. They didn’t need telling twice. [...] Black was sprawled at the bottom of the wall. His thin chest rose and fell rapidly as he watched Harry walking slowly nearer, his wand pointing straight at Black’s heart. “Going to kill me, Harry?” he whispered. Harry stopped right above him, his wand still pointing at Black’s chest, looking down at him. A livid bruise was rising around Black’s left eye and his nose was bleeding. “You killed my parents,” said Harry, his voice shaking slightly, but his wand hand quite steady.

(PoA, Ch17)

This is the first occurrence we see Harry in a true rage. The kind of anger that pushes him to act impulsively and violently. Harry actually screams in rage.

It's not unreasonable, he thinks Sirius betrayed his parents, these same parents Harry never really got the chance to mourn. But Harry doesn't really shout when angry, he's quiet in his anger usually. But here he actually roars out. He demands Ron and Hermione move from his way, he kicks Crookchanks and goes to kill Sirius. Harry is acting completely from anger without really thinking or realizing what he's doing. This is the kind of rage where you see red and don't really know what you're doing until you're doing it.

I love how he describes it: "coursing through Harry like poison". It's just such a visceral description for a very visceral emotion. This isn't Harry's usual anger, this is rage, this is beyond his usual anger. It's the type of anger most fans associate with him because of OotP. This uncontrolled rage that pushes him to be impulsive is a trauma response. It comes up when Harry is at an emotional low. When there's too much, when he feels to many things and he can't handle them all so he lashes out in anger.

In this case, Harry is facing the man he believes sold out his parents, who trusted him, of course, he's angry and betrayed. Of course, it's different from the anger he feels when Snape is being a dick. It is different. It's rage, and grief, and fear, and pain, and it's a cry for help.

Harry has an impressive capacity to bottle up his emotions, but from book 3, we see him teetering on the threshold. And it just gets worse from here (like his experiences in the books).

Goblet of Fire:

GoF is a rough year, and Harry is very angry throughout this year. Still, we see his usual "cold anger" not his rage. He's angry inside his head, we see it, but he doesn't act out on any of it, nor does he even say anything about it. He's bottling it all up. If we weren't reading his thoughts, we probably wouldn't have these gems of anger:

Harry’s ears were ringing. The injustice of it made him want to curse Snape into a thousand slimy pieces. He passed Snape, walked with Ron to the back of the dungeon, and slammed his bag down onto the table. Ron was shaking with anger too — for a moment, it felt as though everything was back to normal between them, but then Ron turned and sat down with Dean and Seamus instead, leaving Harry alone at his table. On the other side of the dungeon, Malfoy turned his back on Snape and pressed his badge, smirking. POTTER STINKS flashed once more across the room. Harry sat there staring at Snape as the lesson began, picturing horrific things happening to him. . . . If only he knew how to do the Cruciatus Curse . . . he’d have Snape flat on his back like that spider, jerking and twitching. . . .

(GoF, Ch18)

Harry felt oddly separate from everyone around him, whether they were wishing him good luck or hissing “We’ll have a box of tissues ready, Potter ” as he passed. It was a state of nervousness so advanced that he wondered whether he mightn’t just lose his head when they tried to lead him out to his dragon, and start trying to curse everyone in sight.

(GoF, Ch20)

Harry spends a good chunk of GoF wishing he could curse Snape, other students, and even Ron occasionally. He feels helpless and that makes him angry. But he doesn't actually curse anyone. He doesn't even sass Snape in the above example, he just glares.

But you'll notice, again, the way he handles his anger/other issues is not really about mastering the emotion and letting it go. No, Harry just holds that anger in. He never learned to let it go, so all the times, his anger came off as cold and chill to others; it's because Harry's keeping a lid on things. By GoF, Harry can barely keep the cap on:

From the moment the article had appeared, Harry had had to endure people — Slytherins, mainly — quoting it at him as he passed and making sneering comments. “Want a hanky, Potter, in case you start crying in Transfiguration?” “Since when have you been one of the top students in the school, Potter? Or is this a school you and Longbottom have set up together?” “Hey — Harry!” “Yeah, that’s right!” Harry found himself shouting as he wheeled around in the corridor, having had just about enough. “I’ve just been crying my eyes out over my dead mum, and I’m just off to do a bit more. . . .” “No — it was just — you dropped your quill.” It was Cho. Harry felt the color rising in his face.

(GoF, Ch19)

And so we get scenes like the above. Harry is walking around like a powder keg waiting to explode. He has been bottling his frustration and anger all his life, he comes off as chill not because he manages it well but because he hides it. He makes his voice steady and quiet because it's what he learned at the Dursleys, but it's not that the anger disappears, he holds onto all of it. That's why the worse the situation is, the worse Harry's anger is. He doesn't have the capacity to push it all down.

And this is why he occasionally starts blowing up in GoF. The more helpless and frustrated he is, the more his bottle is filled and he just can't handle it beyond a certain point.

Order of the Pheonix:

OotP is Harry at his angriest. If I wanted to copy all the qoutes from this book that show Harry's anger, I'd probably have to copy the whole book. As it is, I've hand-picked a few examples:

“SO YOU HAVEN’T BEEN IN THE MEETINGS, BIG DEAL! YOU’VE STILL BEEN HERE, HAVEN’T YOU? YOU’VE STILL BEEN TOGETHER! ME, I’VE BEEN STUCK AT THE DURSLEYS’ FOR A MONTH! AND I’VE HANDLED MORE THAN YOU TWO’VE EVER MANAGED AND DUMBLEDORE KNOWS IT — WHO SAVED THE SORCERER’S STONE? WHO GOT RID OF RIDDLE? WHO SAVED BOTH YOUR SKINS FROM THE DEMENTORS?” Every bitter and resentful thought that Harry had had in the past month was pouring out of him; his frustration at the lack of news, the hurt that they had all been together without him, his fury at being followed and not told about it: All the feelings he was half-ashamed of finally burst their boundaries. Hedwig took fright at the noise and soared off on top of the wardrobe again; Pigwidgeon twittered in alarm and zoomed even faster around their heads. “WHO HAD TO GET PAST DRAGONS AND SPHINXES AND EVERY OTHER FOUL THING LAST YEAR? WHO SAW HIM COME BACK? WHO HAD TO ESCAPE FROM HIM? ME!” [...] Harry was not sure his anger had abated yet; but his thirst for information was now overcoming his urge to keep shouting. He sank onto the bed opposite the others.

(OotP, Ch4)

There are two aspects I want to note about his anger here. Harry, as I mentioned above, even when he is mad at Ron and Hermione, he usually doesn't shout at them like this. This is Harry way past his threshold, traumatized with no idea how to handle any of the emotions he's feeling. Ron and Hermione are getting the brunt of that bottle exploding here.

And Harry has a good reason to be angry with them here, don't get me wrong. Harry usually has really good reasons to be angry. I'm just noting that he would have held back his anger if he wasn't in the worst emotional state we've seen from him up to this point. If he had the capacity in his bottle of emotions, Ron and Hermione wouldn't even know he was upset with them.

The other thing I want to bring up is the second section from the above quote. After Harry lets out a bit of the steam he's been building up for years by this point he swallows it down and caps it again because he wants information. He's still angry, he's still upset, but he holds his tongue to get information. He still doesn't feel free or capable of explaining why he's feeling what he's feeling. A lot of it isn't just anger at Ron and Hermione. It's everything. And he has no idea how to parse what he's feeling.

Like I mentioned in the past, Harry doesn't like showing weakness, he doesn't tend to act emotionally or rashly because he knows how people see it. But he isn't actually letting go of all that anger, he lets it build up:

“Harry?” said Hermione tentatively. “Well done,” said Harry, so heartily it did not sound like his voice at all, and still not looking at her. “Brilliant. Prefect. Great.” “Thanks,” said Hermione. “Erm — Harry — could I borrow Hedwig so I can tell Mum and Dad? They’ll be really pleased — I mean, prefect is something they can understand —” “Yeah, no problem,” said Harry, still in the horrible hearty voice that did not belong to him. “Take her!”

(OotP, Ch9)

And up.

He just keeps pushing his anger down. If Sirius hadn't noticed and told him that he and James weren't prefects either, Harry would've kept stewing in it. Because he wouldn't have told Ron and Hermione he was jealous because he doesn't really tell anyone shit. He just lets it build:

“Oh, shut up, the pair of you,” said Harry heavily, as Ron opened his mouth to argue back. Hermione and Ron both froze, looking angry and offended. “Can’t you give it a rest?” he said. “You’re always having a go at each other, it’s driving me mad.” And abandoning his shepherd’s pie, he swung his schoolbag back over his shoulder and left them sitting there. He walked up the marble staircase two steps at a time, past the many students hurrying toward lunch. The anger that had just flared so unexpectedly still blazed inside him, and the vision of Ron and Hermione’s shocked faces afforded him a sense of deep satisfaction. Serve them right, he thought. Why can’t they give it a rest? . . . Bickering all the time . . . It’s enough to drive anyone up the wall. . . .

(OotP, Ch12)

And keeps snapping at everyone becouse he doesn't have a handle on his emotions. He doesn't really process what he's gone through/going through and he's lashing out.

Harry's anger in OotP is the powder keg blowing. It's why he's more rash, more vocal, actually screaming at people in a way he hasn't before. It's why we see him lose control of himself in anger more than before:

Harry was not aware of releasing George, all he knew was that a second later both of them were sprinting at Malfoy. He had completely forgotten the fact that all the teachers were watching: All he wanted to do was cause Malfoy as much pain as possible. With no time to draw out his wand, he merely drew back the fist clutching the Snitch and sank it as hard as he could into Malfoy’s stomach — “Harry! HARRY! GEORGE! NO !” He could hear girls’ voices screaming, Malfoy yelling, George swearing, a whistle blowing, and the bellowing of the crowd around him, but he did not care, not until somebody in the vicinity yelled “IMPEDIMENTA!” and only when he was knocked over backward by the force of the spell did he abandon the attempt to punch every inch of Malfoy he could reach. . . .

(OotP, Ch19)

Because he reached his limit of how much he can bottle up and he has no healthy means of letting any of it out. The D.A. helped a little as a distraction, it helped him feel less helpless, but he only just addressed the traumatic experience he had in the graveyard by talking about it when more just kept getting piled up onto him.

“Harry — no!” cried Lupin, but Harry had already ripped his arm from Lupin’s slackened grip. “SHE KILLED SIRIUS!” bellowed Harry. “SHE KILLED HIM — I’LL KILL HER!”….. [...] Hatred rose in Harry such as he had never known before. He flung himself out from behind the fountain and bellowed “Crucio!” Bellatrix screamed. The spell had knocked her off her feet, but she did not writhe and shriek with pain as Neville had — she was already on her feet again, breathless, no longer laughing. [...] “Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you, boy?” she yelled. She had abandoned her baby voice now. “You need to mean them, Potter! You need to really want to cause pain — to enjoy it — righteous anger won’t hurt me for long — I’ll show you how it is done, shall I? I’ll give you a lesson —”

(OotP, Ch36)

Running after Bellatrix was an impulsive decision. It's that same rage that overtook Harry to kick Crokshanks and try to kill Sirius. It's that seeing red sort of rage that encompasses everything. Grief overflowing Harry's emotional bottle and all he knows how to react with — is anger.

Harry, as I mentioned in the past, doesn't cry in front of others. He doesn't let himself. and the emotions gotta get out somehow. For Harry, that somehow is anger.

Half-Blood Prince:

After Sirius' death, Harry is much rawer. He basically starts this book beyond his threshold.

“If there’s anyone else here who’s not from Gryffindor,” roared Harry, who was starting to get seriously annoyed, “leave now, please!”

(HBP, Ch11)

So he gets annoyed more easily. He lashes out and shouts more often. He tries to physically attack more often too:

“Another ten points from Gryffindor,” said Snape. “I would expect nothing more sophisticated from you, Ronald Weasley, the boy so solid he cannot Apparate half an inch across a room.” “No!” whispered Hermione, grabbing Harry’s arm as he opened his mouth furiously. “There’s no point, you’ll just end up in detention again, leave it!”

(HBP, Ch21)

Something he didn't do up until OotP and even then rarely. Harry is hot-headed not because he's easy to anger (again, his capacity for bottling up is impressive if he just seriously started lashing out in GoF), most of his grievances are reasonable, he's hot-headed becouse he's suffering and has no idea how to handle it.

“Just now!” said Harry, who was refraining from yelling with enormous difficulty. And then, suddenly, he could not stop himself. “AND YOU LET HIM TEACH HERE AND HE TOLD VOLDEMORT TO GO AFTER MY MUM AND DAD!” Breathing hard as though he was fighting, Harry turned away from Dumbledore, who still had not moved a muscle, and paced up and down the study, rubbing his knuckles in his hand and exercising every last bit of restraint to prevent himself knocking things over. He wanted to rage and storm at Dumbledore, but he also wanted to go with him to try and destroy the Horcrux; he wanted to tell him that he was a foolish old man for trusting Snape, but he was terrified that Dumbledore would not take him along unless he mastered his anger. ... “Harry,” said Dumbledore quietly. “Please listen to me.”

(HBP, Ch25)

Again, he snaps and shouts way more than before. And he knows he shouldn't, he knows it comes off bad and people take him less seriously when he's angry and lashing out, but he can't help it as much since he still hasn't started letting go. He's still at his threshold all throughout HBP.

It's why we see him react the way he does after Snape kills Dumbledore, too. He was so angry all year. Since Sirius died, he's been running on fumes. The keg already blew in fifth year, and it didn't help him at all while he's barely holding himself together (but no one else sees this). And then, he had more pushed onto him after he already had less than zero capacity to deal with things.

Deathly Hallows:

Much of the anger we see from Harry in this book is due to either the locket or the Horcrux in him, but I'm not counting that sort of anger. I want to focus on Harry's anger.

The grief that had possessed him since Dumbledore’s death felt different now. The accusations he had heard from Muriel at the wedding seemed to have nested in his brain like diseased things, infecting his memories of the wizard he had idolized. Could Dumbledore have let such things happen? Had he been like Dudley, content to watch neglect and abuse as long as it did not affect him? Could he have turned his back on a sister who was being imprisoned and hidden? Harry thought of Godric’s Hollow, of graves Dumbledore had never mentioned there; he thought of mysterious objects left without explanation in Dumbledore’s will, and resentment swelled in the darkness. Why hadn’t Dumbledore told him? Why hadn’t he explained? Had Dumbledore actually cared about Harry at all? Or had Harry been nothing more than a tool to be polished and honed, but not trusted, never confided in? Harry could not stand lying there with nothing but bitter thoughts for company. Desperate for something to do, for distraction, he slipped out of his sleeping bag, picked up his wand, and crept out of the room.

(DH, Ch10)

Harry's feelings of grief over Dumbledore are interwind with betrayal, helplessness, and feeling lost in general, and he feels all of it as anger. As I mentioned above, anger is Harry's go-to emotion when he's grieving, when he's in pain, when he feels too much and has no idea what to do with any of it — it lands him in anger.

It's a big part of why he reads as so angry with Dumbledore throughout the book. He has complicated feelings about the man, feelings he has no idea how to even start to unpack, so he feels angry.

In DH too, we see him more easily agitated than in the first 4 books. Harry is way past his limit in this book, but he tries so hard not to show it. To keep that lid on (nevermind that it exploded two years ago).

“I’d never have believed this,” Harry said. “The man who taught me to fight dementors—a coward.” Lupin drew his wand so fast that Harry had barely reached for his own; there was a loud bang and he felt himself flying backward as if punched; as he slammed into the kitchen wall and slid to the floor, he glimpsed the tail of Lupin’s cloak disappearing around the door. “Remus, Remus, come back!” Hermione cried, but Lupin did not respond. A moment later they heard the front door slam. “Harry!” wailed Hermione. “How could you?” “It was easy,” said Harry. He stood up; he could feel a lump swelling where his head had hit the wall. He was still so full of anger he was shaking. “Don’t look at me like that!” he snapped at Hermione. “Don’t you start on her!” snarked Ron. “No—no—we mustn’t fight!” said Hermione, launching herself between them.

(DH, Ch11)

He's shaking from anger. His voice is calm and quiet like his usual response for hiding his anger, but he can't fully hide it. His body gives him away becouse he feels so much of it.

Harry was 100% right to call Lupin out, but I think the ruler way he did it was because he's suffering. He's in emotional turmoil, and twisting his words like a knife, in a way he knew would hurt Lupin, made him feel a little better. It let him take some of that anger out. It is a form of lashing out.

Him snapping at Hermione after and being ready to fist fight Ron is an extension of this lashing out. Harry, when at his limit, lashes out in anger becouse it's all he really knows how.

(He needs a better grieving method. He needs a fucking hug and for someone to tell him he's allowed to cry. He needs a good cry. I think it's why he's calmer after going to Godric's Hallow. He cried a little, grieved his parents, truly, for the first time in his life, and it helped him let some of his pain out in a healthier way)

“It’s not a case of what you’ll permit, Minerva McGonagall. You time’s over. It’s us what’s in charge here now, and you’ll back me up or you’ll pay the price.” And he spat in her face. Harry pulled the Cloak off himself, raised his wand, and said, “You shouldn’t have done that.” As Amycus spun around, Harry shouted, “Crucio!” The Death Eater was lifted off his feet. He writhed through the air like a drowning man, thrashing and howling in pain, and then, with a crunch and a shattering of glass, he smashed into the front of a bookcase and crumpled, insensible, to the floor. “I see what Bellatrix meant,” said Harry, the blood thundering through his brain, “you need to really mean it.”

(DH, Ch30)

Still, things just keep getting added onto his plate. How I see Harry's anger is why I don't think the above scene is out of character for him. His anger fueling the curse isn't just about Amycus spiting at McGonagall. It's about how they tortured Neville, Ginny, and Luna. About his year on the run. About Dobby's death. About him being forced into a position he feels he wants ready for and has no idea what to do. This is years of feeling angry and helpless coming to ahead.

Amycus didn't suffer just for that one crime of his. Spitting on McGonagall just happened to be the straw that broke the camel's back.

To Summerise:

Harry isn't really good at managing his anger, or any other emotion really. He bottles it all up. His frustration, fear, grief, anger, helplessness, and pain all go together into Harry's little box of feelings so he can do whatever he needs to do and appear calm and quiet. It's why we see Harry fuming and boiling with rage inside his head while he's externally calm and cold and composed.

This lid he keeps on everything starts breaking as the emotions keep getting bottled up and he keeps not really processing them. So in GoF Harry is teetering on his very impressive threshold and then, after the graveyard, he breaks.

He suffered so much all at once and then was left alone to stew at the Dursleys for a whole month, suffering from nightmares and having no idea how to process any of what he's been through. Of course, he fucking breaks in OotP.

And when Harry breaks, all these emotions he kept down come out as anger. The reason he reacts so dramatically to smaller offenses post-OotP isn't that he's easy to anger, he really isn't. It's just that he has accumulated pain and grief from 14 years of trauma and abuse that are just now being let out in the form of Harry angrily lashing out.

So, I wouldn't say his anger management is amazing, but his problem isn't really the anger itself, it's emotional regulation in general. He needs to learn to deal with his emotions instead of bottling them up. If he does, he probably won't have any issues with anger management and would just sass his way through life.

[coldshrugs]

HOW are you dealing with the new expression bones

for me and the type of gposing i do, less is more when it comes to expressions. still, i've tried to set myself up for success when adjusting them, so i'll share what i've got here.

quick preface: i use ktisis to pose. i've seen the layout for anam, but haven't used it, and i find brio's posing a bit too finicky for my liking. i use it for supplemental features, but not posing.

blue tips will be pretty accessible, and red tips are for those who don't mind fucking around and finding out, or putting in a bit more effort.

Filter the Visible Bones in Your List

No brainer, right? Looking at the left is a nightmare.

Do yourself a favor and only activate the group you’re working with, like the mouth group on the right.

Make an Expression Pack (or several!)

When it comes to expressions, the best advice I can give is: go through the vanilla expression emotes with your character and save them as .pose files. It’s a little time-consuming, but it WILL be worth it if you’re making enhanced poses often enough. And you don’t have to stop there–if there’s a full-on emote with an expression you adore, pause it during the expression and save it the same way. You can load that face onto other poses.

A note on pre-made expressions with the new face bones: Expressions will not carry across races, nor will they carry well across faces of the same race. This is particularly noticeable for the mouth. For that reason, you may want to label your expression folders like this:

Gender > Race > Face –or– Female > Viera > Face 4

Eye Movement with Sibling Linking

This has always been the go-to, but I think it’s good to share. There’s a button that lets you move one bone while also affecting its sibling bone (for example, you can move the left eye, and the right eye will move too).

“Link Rotation” will move the bones in the same direction. You will use this the most. “Mirror Rotation” will move them in opposite directions, but the amount of movement will be the same.

I use this for eyes and eyelids to ensure I’m getting even movements and looks across the board (like below), but it works for ears, limbs, hair, you name it! If there’s a left and a right version of the bone, they can be moved in tandem.

Mouth Movement with Position

With the new mouth bones, I’ve found position to be far more helpful than rotation. Switch your transform mode to position, zoom way in, and lift those lip corners, or shift them in or out.

Here's the expression we just made from a blank face!

Adjust Some Settings

Consider adjusting your settings so that the bones and their connecting lines fade or disappear while you’re mid-movement, so you can see things more clearly. Some folks don't want to dabble in settings at all, which is fine!! But if you have the time and inclination, try it out!

Try Bone Offsetting

This is a lifesaver. You can adjust the position of each dot, for a more clear view of them. This takes some time and patience, but I found it to be worth it because I'm always on that damn gpose.

ESPECIALLY useful for the eyes, where the bones’ default state is stacked on top of each other. I’ve also adjusted the abdomen/waist/lumbar area and viera ear bones to my taste.

Bone Offsets only affect the specific race and gender you adjust them on. Here you can see the pile of dots on the unadjusted fem miqo's eyes, and then the fem viera's bone dots spread out to more legible placements.

Hopefully this was somewhat helpful! Feel free to shoot questions my way anytime! 💗

[spideysbruh]

Short 'n' Sweet

Timothée is in New York. Y/n is in LA finalizing her album. He knows she’s busy, he is too, but fuck, he misses her so much it might actually be a problem. 

He’s in bed right now, struggling to fall asleep because she has infiltrated every crevice of his mind. 

It’s actually pretty bad, everything reminds him of her, he sees traces of her everywhere and it seems like the radio is taunting him with her songs whenever he turns it on.   

Timmy 💙- hi baby, you free to call right now? i can’t sleep :( 

He sends the text and stares at the word ‘delivered’ until it finally turns into ‘read’ a couple of minutes later.

Babygirl Y/n 😍😍😍- yesss

He smiles and immediately facetimes her, she answers and he grins at her cute little face on his screen.

“Hi.” She simply says and he sighs and relaxes into his bed at the sound of her voice.

“I miss you, honey.” He whines, she giggles and runs her fingers through her hair to get it out of her face, smiling at him through the camera.

“I miss you too, babe. I finally turned in the album.” She says, leaning back in her chair and playfully sticking out her tongue.

He gasps and smiles, “No way! That’s amazing, baby. Any songs about me on there?” He jokes, she giggles and nods.

“Yeah a few, actually!” 

His heart skips a beat at that, “Really?” he softly asks, and she hums.

“Yeah, I’ll let you listen to it when I come back home.”

Home. 

He grins and eagerly nods, “I can’t wait.”

He knows they might not make much sense, he knows that he seems too desperate when it comes to her, but he doesn't care. No girl has ever made him feel the way that she makes him feel.

She’s independent, confident, funny, and so fucking talented. 

What’s not to like? 

She’s kind to everyone she meets, she lights up every room she’s in, she’s fucking beautiful and she loves him. 

“When do you come back?” He asks, a pout on his lips now. 

“Day after tomorrow.”

“I’ll pick you up. Take you out to eat and everything.” He replies, already excited about their reunion.

She smiles and nods, “Sounds good to me, babe. I can’t wait, I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Cause it has been! It’s been 27 days.” He frowns, glancing at the framed picture of them on his nightstand. A picture she had taken early on in their relationship. She was in the passenger seat of his car puckering her lips a bit and he was leaning over the console, kissing her cheek with a smile peeking through.

He loves that picture, they took it around two months into their relationship, he remembered being excited that she wanted a picture of the both of them. He had asked her to send it to him and he immediately set it as his wallpaper.

Before that, he just had the default wallpaper that's there when you get a new phone, which she teased him about.

“Wow, we really went a month without seeing each other.” She softly replies, looking down at her lap.

Timothée pouts and sighs, “Only two more days, baby. Then we can spend as much time as we want together.”

She smiles and they stay on the phone together for a while, talking about every and anything until he slowly falls asleep with her still on the phone. 

Two days later, he's waiting in his car for Y/n at the airport. He has her favorite radio station playing, her favorite snacks in the backseat, and the seat adjusted just the way she likes. 

He sees her walk out the exit and he quickly jumps out of the car.

“Ohhhhh my god!” He exclaims, speeding over to her and wrapping his arms around her, spinning her around as she giggles. “I missed you so fucking much.” He says, kissing her face repeatedly.

“I missed you too.” She grins, keeping her arms around him and leaning up to kiss him. He kisses her back, deepening it for a second before forcing himself to pull away from her.

She smiles up at him, caressing his arm as he sighs and grabs her suitcase, opening his trunk and placing it in there. “I've been thinking about this all month. Literally since I dropped you off.” 

She laughs as she reaches for the door handle but he runs over and pushes her hand away, opening it for her instead. She blushes and goes to get in, but not before kissing him again.

She notices that the seat doesn't have to be adjusted and smiles, she goes to change the radio, but sees that her favorite station is already on, it's just on mute.

Timothée gets in and clears his throat, “I made a reservation at this new place that my sister told me about. So hopefully it's good.” He says as he starts driving.

“Ooo that's awesome, she's got good taste so I think we'll like it.” She replies, peeking in the backseat and seeing a bag of snacks.

“Oh! That's for you! I thought you might be a little hungry or something after the flight, you can just save those for later if you’re not.” He says as he turns onto the highway.

She grabs the bag, seeing all of her favorite snacks and a couple of drinks in it. “Awwww you got Dr. Pepper!” Her heart swells at the thought of him going to get all of this just for her.

“It literally tastes like medicine, but anything for my girl.” He replied, making her jokingly roll her eyes.

“I love you.” She says, reaching over and intertwining their fingers.

He brings her hand up and kisses it, “I love you more. More than anyone has ever loved anything in the history of the world.”

She smiles and pinches his cheek before reaching for her phone in her purse, “Wanna hear the album?”

“Um hell yeah! I was about to ask you to play it for me.” He grins, switching the radio to the aux setting. “Can’t wait to hear the ones about me.” He jokes… kinda.

She giggles and connects her phone, pressing play on the first track. “Oh, I leave quite an impression…” He smirks at the opening line but doesn’t say anything.

Whenever she plays him her new music, he always listens intently and doesn’t say anything until it’s over, and then he gives his thoughts, always supportive. 

She always gets excited to show him, when he really likes one he’ll get giddy and try to sing along even though he’s barely hearing it for the first time. She finds it adorable.

When that one ends he nods his head, “It’s a banger, babe.”

She snorts and thanks him, going to play the next one before he speaks up again  “That one isn’t about me though, right?” he questions, making her laugh.

“No baby! You’ll know which ones are about you, don’t worry.” 

She plays ‘Please Please Please’ and he recognizes it, having heard bits of it when she was first writing it. When it ends he takes her hand in his and squeezes it, “I like that one.” He says simply, not wanting to get too emotional right now, knowing her history with previous exes. “Men are assholes, huh?” He adds, lightening the mood.

Y/n laughs and clicks on the next one, “Not all of them, baby.” She misses the blush that covers his face at her words and he sighs.

“I won’t give a fuck about you.” The song starts and he chuckles.

“Love it already.” He says, making Y/n laugh.

“Yeah? Listen to it, bro.” She said, suddenly looking at him straight-faced.

“Alright, damn.” He says, she giggles.

After it finishes he hums, “I’m listening… and I have made notes.” He says, she laughs and teasingly shoves at his arm. “That one is my favorite so far.” He says, “Another banger, babe. I never doubted you!”

It goes on like that, she plays one song and he tells her his thoughts on it, making funny little jokes here and there. There was a blush on his face for the entirety of ‘Bed Chem’, an awkward “Ahahahaaaa” leaving his mouth at every suggestive line.

For ‘Juno’ he was smiling through it all, laughing at every comedic line and at the fact that he remembered her saying shit like this to him a couple months ago, meaning she was probably writing it at that time.

After the last song's final notes ended, she nervously spoke up first “So… what do you think?” 

He sighs and slowly turns the car onto a side street, parking it on a semi-empty road.

She furrows her eyebrows and looks over at him, watching him bite his thumb while deep in thought before he suddenly turns to her.

“I love it, baby. I especially love that you felt comfortable and stable enough to write about us… or me. It's an album full of songs that I can't wait to see you perform.” 

She smiles and leans forward and kisses him, he deepens it quickly, taking his seatbelt off and caressing her face, “I bet we'd have really good… car… chem, too.” He says as he pulls away,

“You’re so fucking stupid.” She giggles, kissing his nose, “and you already know that we do.” She adds, raising an eyebrow at him.

He smiles as he looks in the backseat and blushes, “We should do it again.”

“We should, but not right now.” She replies, leaning back in her seat. “We've got a reservation to get to.”

He pouts but nods, “You're right baby, let's go eat. I'm starvingggg.” He groans, putting his seatbelt back on.

~

Several months later, she's released two songs, ‘Espresso’ and ‘Please Please Please’, both songs are doing well, and she's performing at a festival today.

Timothée is in a vip section in front of the crowd with some friends, waiting for her set to start.

He has a disposable camera ready to go for when she gets on stage, he has a camera specifically for pictures of her only. There's a sticker of her on the back of it, so he doesn't confuse it with his other camera. The one for literally anybody else.

The music starts and she walks out, a smile on her face as the crowd cheers, Timothée joins in and is already grinning as she starts singing. 

“That's my girl!” He yells, hearing some ‘awwww's from behind him.

For pretty much every song, he yells out something like “let's goooooooo!” “That's my song!” or “another banger!” She jokingly rolls her eyes at him every time she hears him, making him laugh.

He moves around, getting different angles of her on his camera, as well as some videos for safekeeping.

She meets his eyes, or his camera lens, several times, sending him a smirk or a wave, which makes him blush every time. 

For her ‘Nonsense’ outro she sits on one of the prop chairs right in front of him. She smirks at him as she raises her microphone to say her outro, “Here I am on stage at coachellaaaaa, got a cute man he calls me bellaaaaa, and I'm ‘boutta give him a raging bonaaaaaa.”

He laughs and feels his face heat up again, he applauds as she grins over at him and gets up to start her next song. She blows him a kiss before running to the opposite side of the stage. 

Before her last song ‘Espresso’, she gets changed into her encore outfit, which is usually just a shirt with a joke on it. The one today is an ‘I heart my boyfriend’ shirt with a picture of Timothée in the heart. He laughs, remembering when he got her that shirt as a joke. The crowd cheers and laughs at the shirt, yelling about how that's her real boyfriend.

She smiles over at him and moves to the front of the stage, gesturing for him to walk over to her with her finger. He quirks an eyebrow and points at himself, “Me?!” She giggles and excitedly nods. 

He rushes over to her as the track starts, restarting every few seconds since she's not ready, “What is it, baby?” He yells out as she bends over to reach him, he subconsciously reaches for her hand right by his face.

“Gimme your camera, babe. I wanna take pictures from my point of view!” 

He pouts, “But this one is only for photos of you.”

“Okay fine, I'll be in all of them.” She compromises, he sighs and teasingly rolls his eyes but hands it to her, she grins and leans down to quickly kiss his cheek, “I love you!” 

“I love you too!” He yells out, rushing back to his spot, his face once again much more red than it was a second ago.

“Now he's-” She starts, flawlessly doing her choreography, her voice like butter. Looking beautiful as ever. He actually can't believe it.

He smiles and takes out his phone, taking a video for his Instagram story.

“And I got this one boyyyyy, and he won't stop callinnnnn-” She winks at him before snapping a picture of her smirking at the camera during the brief pause.

He chuckles at that, watching as she basically floats across the stage, enchanting everyone in the crowd.

She snaps pictures of herself, with her dancers, and the crowd as well. He can already tell which ones will be used for her Instagram posts later on.

“Oh, he looks so cuteeeee wrapped ‘round my fingerrrr.” She sings, once again eyeing him, smirking as she dances to a spot right in front of him as his eyes follow her.

He grins and licks his lips as she sings about him, at least- he thinks it's about him. He's gotta be that “one boy” because he's definitely wrapped around her finger. Ugh whatever. He loves it.

He records another video, the camera picking up his little comments as she sings.

“My twisted humorrrrr, make him laugh so oftennnnn.” She sings, Timothée quietly singing along.

“That's right, baby.” He says, quickly posting the video so he can snap a good picture of her shirt.

She dances back over to the spot right in front of him, perfect. He waves his fingers at her, getting a perfect photo of her wearing the shirt. 

She's smiling directly at him over his phone, the shirt completely unobscured by her arm holding the microphone. He's going to set it as his new wallpaper later.

“Soft skin and I perfumed it for ya.” She smirks, sensually moving down onto her knees, rubbing her thighs as she winks at him.

He chuckles and has to look away before he gets too aroused. She chuckles and gets up, dancing over to the rest of the dancers.

He sways to the rest of the song, enjoying the rest of her performance. 

“Coachella thank you for having me! I'll be back! Enjoy your weekend!” She bids the audience farewell and jogs across the stage, she once again stops in front of Timothée and gestures him over again.

He rushes over and she hands him the camera, he smiles and leans up to kiss her.

“You did amazing, baby!” He exclaims, she giggles and quickly pecks his lips.

“Thank you, my love! I'll see you in a second!” She grins, playing with his curls before running off.

He sighs and rushes over to the stairs that she's going to be walking off of in a second. He watches as she talks animatedly with the dancers and singers, laughing at something one of the girls said.

She sees him and her eyes widen, she jumps off the last step into his arms, he wraps them around her waist and pulls her closer.

“Babeeeeee! That was so fun!” She grins, peppering his face in kisses.

He laughs and presses his lips on hers, “You did amazing! Best show I've ever seen!” 

She teasingly rolls her eyes, “Yeah well, there was a reallyyyyy cute guy in the crowd that I was trying to impress.” 

“Well I think it worked.” He chuckles, rubbing her back, she giggles and kisses him again.

“I love you.” She smiles, walking over to her tent with his arm around her waist.

He twirls a strand of her hair around his finger and kisses her head, “I love you more.”

*

[michanvalentine]

I was mentioned in a pro-Ascendant Astarion post with this quote: "Astarion does not have a well-developed sense of self, and by default, he also lacks many of the skills that a well-adjusted adult should possess." This is the post it’s taken from: click me!

No problem at all—it's public, and I don’t see why anyone shouldn’t reference it. Naturally, the post was in opposition to that statement—generally speaking, I mean—but that’s fine too. Everyone has their own opinion and is free to express it. That’s not the point of my upcoming ramble! xD

It’s just that rereading my own words got me thinking more deeply about the topic and made me want to explore it further.

Now, I’m not a psychologist, but I did study psychology. I took several exams at university and I actually did pretty well, lol. I didn’t complete my studies because life took me elsewhere—most importantly, my daughter was born—but the general knowledge I gained from psychology still follows me in everything I do every day.

So it’s second nature for me to analyze characters from the media I consume through that lens—Astarion included. Of course, this is just my perspective; I can’t say for certain whether the developers intended this for his character or whether they did specific research into his psychological development.

That said, today I feel like going off on a little tangent about this beautiful science. Still in reference to that heart-stealing vampire spawn that I’m aaaaabsolutely not obsessed with.

Let me also add a disclaimer. The concepts mentioned are just examples and cannot be applied literally, as every person is different and reacts differently to situations and stimuli. Likewise, the brain is plastic—neural connections change and adapt, and there is almost never a fixed or definitive condition. Above all, I’m not making any kind of diagnosis! That’s not within my competence! Keep these ideas well in mind!

So, why do I say that Astarion doesn’t have a well-developed sense of self? Let’s take it step by step and talk a little about the concept of the "self". I'm copy-pasting something from another post, lol. Rewriting it from scratch is too much work! xP

The self is quite a complex concept with many facets. Briefly put, it’s shaped by various internal and external factors and reflects a conscious image of "me." In psychology, it’s key to building the Ego of an individual—the capacity to act, understand, organize, and interpret experiences. The Ego provides a sense of uniqueness, coherence, and personal continuity since the self encompasses many "faces." All this forms the personality of an individual, which naturally develops (and changes) throughout life.

Particular attention in the formation of the self is given to sensitive periods, such as early childhood. The self determines the level of self-esteem based on an individual’s assessment of their worth and competence in the characteristics they attribute to themselves (Real Self), their future aspirations (Ideal Self), and what they want to avoid (Feared Selves). The greater the discrepancy between these aspects, the lower the level of self-esteem. Social support and approval, as well as competence in domains deemed important to the self, obviously contribute to perceiving oneself as a person of value.

Astarion, as we know, has had his sense of self fundamentally undermined. For him, the world is divided between those who have power and those who don’t, with the former always being the "winners" in his eyes. The magistrate he once was is long dead, along with his moral compass and the life he used to live—especially after 200 years of servitude to Cazador.

As vampire spawn, akin to a newborn in some respects, Astarion learned to exist solely within Cazador’s world, revolving around Cazador, for Cazador.

There are lines of dialogue within the game that highlight this in a painful and terrifying way. For example, when Tav/Durge directly confronts Cazador, or when Cazador ends up on his knees in front of Astarion after one of his brothers or sisters dies during the ritual. Cazador says: “He [Astarion] is afraid. He’s afraid because all he has ever knows is you and me. And without us, he is nothing.” Or: “And then? What will you be without me? A shade? A specrte in the shadows, devoid of all purpose.”

It’s a terrible thing, but it’s true. Cazador represents everything—Astarion’s entire world—and when he dies, he leaves behind a void that’s even more frightening. And let’s not forget that, in the real world, it takes very little to completely erase a person—and two hundred years in the hands of an abuser is an overwhelming amount of time, a detail that too often gets underestimated or completely forgotten.

The whole matter becomes even more disturbing and painful when Cazador suggests that without Tav/Durge, Astarion would have come crawling back to him with his tail between his legs. To his fucking tormentor. And sadly, it's a painful concept because it really happens in real life—when you have nothing and no one, when you have no means of your own and are completely dependent on another person, no matter how terrifying they are. Cazador is certain that Astarion will return to him, even if it means dying. And it's a concept with a devastating impact.

So Cazador was the domineering father figure, and vampire society functions under strict rules handed down by vampire lords. In this hostile context, without any room for self-expression or choice, Astarion developed a fragmented and damaged self-image. Constantly belittled by Cazador as an individual (small, weak, useless, incapable, all words he uses in the game), always pitted against his brothers and sisters, and degraded from a magistrate to a prostitute (this is important because it’s the only skill—or "talent," as he calls it himself—that Astarion believes gives him any value or power, forming the basis for his self-image). It’s easy to imagine just how high his self-esteem must be, right? Most importantly, he never developed the skills to navigate life as a free individual—at least not in a healthy way.

Good Lord, he thinks that in order to receive support, he has to sell himself to Tav/Durge and offer his sexual services—otherwise, he has no hope of survival! And that’s why I say he doesn’t possess all the skills of a well-adjusted adult. Other glaring examples of this—so glaring they hit you like a punch in the eye—are his inability to say no and to recognize his own limits. And shall we talk about the infamous question: What do you want? The first time, he deflects, and essentially gives the answer the player wants to hear. The second time, he states it plainly: he doesn't know. He doesn't know how to make decisions, he hasn’t done it in 200 years, and the very idea terrifies him to his core. These are all skills that a well-balanced person possesses—let’s not kid ourselves.

Like any mature and well-balanced adult, one knows how to recognize their feelings, define them, communicate them, and most importantly, not fear them. Astarion, on the other hand, is unable—after 200 years of pure shit—to understand what he feels for Tav/Durge, and he won’t be able to until the end of the Pale Elf’s quest. “I don’t know—but isn’t it nice, not to know? You’re not a target, nor a victim, not just one night it's better to forget. But then... whatever in the world could you be?”

So, even if reluctantly (and despite his fear), he ends up leaning on Tav/Durge. He needs a guiding figure to help him figure out what to do because making decisions and acting independently don’t come naturally to him. Especially outside of his talents, sex and survival. He needs to be rehabilitated, re-educated, and to achieve this, he requires a safe and healthy environment where he can experiment and grow, perhaps developing other faces of the self on which to base a new evaluation. Like, I'm not just a slave or a whore: but I'm also a companion, a friend, a lover, a hero and I'm able to listen, to help, to learn, to collaborate, etc.

And let’s not forget that when the fateful confrontation with Cazador is brought up, Astarion explicitly asks Tav/Durge for help. “I need to take the fight to him. And I need you to help me,” he says. How to help him—whether to ascend or not—is up to the player and how they choose to play. But the fact remains: Astarion needs support.

Meanwhile let’s take a look at some of the consequences of low self-esteem:

Difficulty opening up in social settings and communicating one's emotions and needs

Extreme self-criticism

Devaluing or ignoring one’s own qualities

Tendency to constantly apologize and feel guilty for things that are not actually one's responsibility

Tendency to appease others due to perceiving oneself as inferior to one’s peers

Use of negative words to describe oneself

Difficulty making decisions and maintaining personal goals over time

Negative and self-blaming internal dialogue

Belief that success is due to luck, with difficulty attributing accomplishments to oneself

Not believing compliments that are given to them

And now, let’s look at the most common causes for the development of low self-esteem:

Being raised by extremely critical and demanding parents

Being heavily devalued by parents or other authority figures

Being ignored or ridiculed during childhood

Being a victim of physical, sexual, or psychological abuse

Achieving poor academic results

Experiencing episodes of bullying or mistreatment in the workplace

Suffering a financial collapse or a significant breakup

Being subjected to a prolonged period of stress

Suffering from a chronic and persistent medical condition

Suffering from psychological disorders (e.g., anxiety or depression)

Does this remind you of something? Or maybe someone in particular? Does that person, by any chance, have red eyes and pointed teeth?

Naturally, these are just examples, and everything varies depending on the individual, but I believe these points still manage to convey the concept.

They especially give the idea of how much events—and especially the context in which we live—impact our psyche. For example, thanks to neuroscience and increasingly detailed brain imaging, we know that brain areas change according to the factors mentioned above; they train like muscles, so to speak, becoming larger and more reactive every time they are activated.

So, if someone is subjected to chronic stress, the brain areas responsible for managing it will become easily activated, bringing with them a whole series of consequences that affect performance, behavior, perception, thinking, and so on.

Likewise, the more the “right” areas of the brain are activated, the more the brain itself will develop in a healthy and balanced way, forming neural connections that support the tools (perception, thinking, etc) mentioned above.

Meanwhile, other areas—such as those related to stress responses—will remain small and more difficult to activate. (Obviously, brain areas don’t literally “grow” or “shrink” in size, but the connections between neurons (synapses) are strengthened or weakened depending on how much they’re used. This is a principle known as “neural plasticity”: what you use becomes reinforced, what you neglect becomes weaker.)

A curiosity: even our mood influences how we perceive people and the world around us—and consequently, our thoughts and impressions too! xD

This image is heartbreaking, because these brains belong to two three-year-old children—and the differences are significant.

The brain on the right is missing key areas that are present in the one on the left. These missing parts impact the abilities of the child with the smaller brain:

this child will likely be less intelligent as an adult compared to the one with the larger brain,

will be less capable of empathizing with others,

and will be at higher risk of becoming addicted to drugs and involved in violent crimes.

Additionally, the child with the smaller brain is more likely to remain unemployed and dependent on social services, and may develop mental health issues or other serious health problems.

The large difference in size and development between these two brains is not due to illness or injury, but rather to how the two children were treated by their mothers.

The child with the larger, more developed brain was loved by their mother, who was consistently present and attentive to their needs. The child with the smaller brain, on the other hand, was neglected and abused. It is precisely this difference in treatment that explains why one child's brain developed fully while the other’s did not.

Of course, our favorite vampire spawn isn’t a developing child—but the point is that certain environments and experiences have a profound impact and shape many aspects of our lives, making us more or less equipped to face challenges.

At this point, I’d like to focus a bit on the reasoning process in general. It’s easy to believe that when humans think, make decisions, and reflect on a problem or task, they do so in the most rational way possible. And that’s where we go wrong! First of all, the cerebral cortex — the part of the brain responsible for complex cognitive functions such as thinking, awareness, memory, attention, and language — is located in the upper region of the brain. Most stimuli, in order to reach the cortex, must pass through all the lower areas of the brain, which often trigger behavioral responses even before the stimulus reaches rational thought. For example, the activation of the sympathetic nervous system, which is responsible for danger responses. A silly example: how many times have we jumped out of our skin before realizing that the loud, scary noise was just a window slamming shut? First comes the fear response, then the evaluation of the stimulus follows.

As if that weren’t enough, the brain plays other little tricks on us — without us even being aware of it — because that sneaky thing does a whole lot on its own, especially when it comes to thinking and making decisions.

So... Astarion has a very limited perspective—mostly the one offered by Cazador. As we said earlier, the world is divided into those who have power and those who suffer it. Period. But we all know that in between there are infinite shades of gray, and that can’t be denied. In the same way, Astarion believes that Tav/Durge is the exception to the rule—the only kind person in the world, the one and only for him. But as much as it flatters our ego to hear that, we know very well that no one is that special. It’s always Astarion’s perspective that’s extremely limited. And in fact, here too, Tav/Durge has the opportunity to broaden his view, to point out that the world is full of kind people who would care for him if only he opened himself up and showed kindness in return. This narrow way of thinking and seeing things, this resistance to noticing alternatives, fits perfectly into the category of cognitive biases.

Let’s start with the premise that the human brain needs to be both effective and efficient. That means reaching a result in the shortest time and using the fewest resources. Therefore: when we think and make decisions, we don’t always do so rationally. We use heuristics—mental shortcuts—often following patterns we've used before. A silly example: if I have to cook a dish I’ve made a hundred times, I don’t sit down to rethink how and why I should cook it—I just switch off my brain and do it the way I’ve always done. Many heuristics are good and useful—others, not so much. And when they fall into the latter category, they become biases.

There are many types, but let’s look at one that we all, even us Astarion fans, share. xD Confirmation Bias!

Confirmation bias manifests when we tend to search for, interpret, or remember information that supports our pre-existing beliefs, ignoring anything that contradicts them or isn’t completely aligned.

Once a certain mental imprint forms, new experiences only deepen that groove, without any willingness to explore other interpretative modes—in fact, they tend to further crystallize internal beliefs.

We can say that the person is cherry-picking—in a complex set of data and information, they pick out only what resonates with a belief they already hold, which, in some way, is convenient for them.

The reason is easy to see: if I don’t challenge a belief—even if it’s irrational—I’ll save time, create less friction, and reduce internal and external resistance to a given situation.

Because confirmation bias shows up when a person selects only the evidence that supports their point of view, it easily becomes a self-sustaining system, keeping them locked in an interpretive and experiential microcosm that risks becoming increasingly stifling—a self-built prison.

Astarion is stuck on tracks he’s known inside and out for centuries, forcibly carved into his mind—and for him, it’s all too easy to filter everything through that lens. And this cuts him off from a myriad of possibilities, in a completely unconscious way. It’s like throwing a wrench in your own gears. So Tav/Durge represents an opening to a different value system, one that could replace or at least expand our vampire spawn’s worldview. Not without resistance, of course—those brain connections will get you!

So, to conclude, let’s go back to the beginning and to the statement in question.

"Astarion does not have a well-developed sense of self, and by default, he also lacks many of the skills that a well-adjusted adult should possess."

Yes, maybe out of context it might sound bad. I certainly don’t see Astarion as half a man, incapable of thinking or choosing for himself. But I do recognize that he has serious vulnerabilities that need to be treated with care and taken into account. Not when we're playing—when we play, we do what we like and have fun—but when we analyze him as a character. When Astarion, at the end of the Pale Elf quest, in the good ending, thanks us for saving him from himself, what he means, in my opinion, is exactly this: thank you for supporting me when my vulnerabilities, my fears, my blind spots, and my narrow perspective were getting the best of me. Because, let’s be honest, Astarion’s story is also about this—about rediscovery, about learning to live again, about changing, improving, growing, developing relationships, new abilities and skills. Not as a rogue or as a vampire, or within game mechanics—but as a person.

The point is: Astarion has come out of a horrific situation, one that has to have left marks, wounds, infected pus festering beneath the skin. A situation that never allowed him to understand what he liked, what he wanted, who he really was—simply because he couldn’t express himself, couldn’t think about his own needs, couldn’t say no. Couldn’t develop his sense of self in peace and safety.

A situation that left him unable to face the world and the people in it in a healthy way, unable to identify and express his own feelings, unable to say that damn "no" or to make choices. To decide, yes. And in fact, every time he’s asked what he wants to do, his answers are vague—or he says he doesn’t know, or admits that he’s afraid of those damn choices. He’s afraid of freedom, of consequences, and of everything else beyond the four things he knows—the four fucking things Cazador drilled into him, all around power and control.

And I’m really supposed to believe that the one choice he’s absolutely sure about is Ascension? Hell no. Just like he's not sure he doesn't want to ascend!

References

Rogers, C. R. (1961). On Becoming a Person: A Therapist's View of Psychotherapy. Houghton Mifflin. → A foundational text on the concept of the self, self-actualization, and congruence between real and ideal self.

Winnicott, D. W. (1964). The Child, the Family, and the Outside World. Penguin Books. → Explores the importance of a safe environment in the healthy development of the self.

Bowlby, J. (1969–1980). Attachment and Loss (Vols. 1–3). Basic Books. → Describes how early attachment figures shape our internal working models and sense of security.

Erikson, E. H. (1950). Childhood and Society. W. W. Norton & Company. → Introduces the theory of psychosocial development across the lifespan.

Herman, J. L. (1992). Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence—From Domestic Abuse to Political Terror. Basic Books. → Explains complex trauma, victim-perpetrator dynamics, and the long-term effects of abuse.

van der Kolk, B. A. (2014). The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. Viking. → Offers neuroscientific insight into how trauma reshapes the brain and affects emotional regulation.

Siegel, D. J. (2010). The Mindful Brain: Reflection and Attunement in the Cultivation of Well-Being. W. W. Norton & Company. → Discusses neuroplasticity, integration, and the development of a coherent sense of self.

Kahneman, D. (2011). Thinking, Fast and Slow. Farrar, Straus and Giroux. → A deep dive into heuristics, decision-making, and cognitive biases like confirmation bias.

Malaguti, E., & Morganti, P. (2014). Psychotraumatology: An Integrated Model for Trauma Treatment. (Translated from the Italian). FrancoAngeli. → Addresses the psychological and neurological consequences of prolonged trauma.

[thuesdaynightdykelife]

Topping w long nails wouldn’t that hurt her we should always clip before top unless u want her to have dirt in her pussy

Dirt in her pussy? Clipping your nails does not replace the power of soap and a nail brush! We should always prep our nails before topping, but that doesn't necessarily mean clipping them.

If there is one lesson I'll take from my ex, it's that filed nails are so much more important than clipped nails. You can clip your nails as short as humanly possible, but if you don't file those sharp corners down, you are going to injure someone (I can tell you this from experience, I'm so sorry lmao).

Long nails do not hurt if you take the appropriate precautions and adjustments. Cleaning underneath the nails, nail shapes that dont have sharp edges, softer nail extention materials (any of y'all who know more about nails than I do, feel free to add your reccomendations) doing less of a beckoning motion and more of a simple up and down, or latex gloves and cotton balls, finger sleeves. Where there is a will, there is a way y'all, and everyones body and preferences are different. Plus, there are plenty of ways to top beyond fingering. You can have the sharpest strongest stilleto nails and exclusively top. You just may default to toys over fingers.

The interaction I heard that inspired the original post was someone making a comment towards a top, implying that they couldn't be due to their acrylic nails. Completely inappropriate to be making those sorts of comments about the details of other people's sex lives and appearance, but also not true either! There are so many ways to have sex, expand your minds, you'll thank yourselves for it!

[redocity]

Buck teaching his gf how to drive a car since she only has her motorcycle license bur he's scared she's gonna grind the gearbox too hard in his jeep so they borrow Eddie's car?

AUTOMATIC DRIVE — E.BUCKLEY

after half a decade of motorcycle driving, you want to actually learn to drive a car. buck thinks an automatic drive is your best option.

evan buckley x fem!reader | 1.1k | fluff | masterlist.

a/n— the default in the uk is a manual car (they call it a stick shift in the us right?) and let me tell you, i wish i learned in an automatic it would’ve saved me so much grief

It was a warm Saturday afternoon, the kind of day perfect for a drive around the city.

Except for the fact that you were about to learn how to drive a car for the first time.

Sure, you had your motorcycle license and had been riding for years, but cars? Whole different story. And Buck, bless him, was trying his best to be supportive.

"You'll do great," Buck said, offering you a reassuring smile as you both stood next to his beloved Jeep.

You gave him a look, raising an eyebrow. "You sure? You were just muttering about the gearbox under your breath like two minutes ago,"

Buck winced slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Okay, well, my Jeep is… special. It’s been through a lot, you know? The wildfires, rescues, that time it got stuck in the sand dunes—"

"I get it, Buck. Your Jeep’s your baby, I don't want to ruin it," you said, trying to keep from laughing at the anxiety creeping into his voice. “I don’t really need to be able to drive a car anyway—”

“No, no, you wanna learn to drive, you’re gonna learn to drive,” He sighed, looking between you and the Jeep, then pulled out his phone. "How about we call in a favour?"

—

Fifteen minutes later, Eddie rolled up, leaning out of the window of his family SUV with a raised eyebrow. “So, you’re trusting me with this? Or am I trusting you with my car?”

Buck laughed, walking over to greet him. “We’re trusting her with your car. I thought mine would be a little too, uh… temperamental for a first-time driver.”

Eddie glanced at you, a smirk playing at his lips. “Right. And you think my car’s gonna survive?”

You rolled your eyes, but there was a grin tugging at your lips. “I promise not to grind the gears off your car, Eddie. I’ve been riding motorcycles for years—I think I can handle a sedan.”

Eddie chuckled and tossed Buck the keys. “It’s automatic, so there’s no gears to be grinded. Plus, you’d have to try pretty hard to kill the engine on accident.”

Buck let out a visible sigh of relief. “Thanks, man. You’re saving me a lot of stress right now.”

“Yeah, well, you owe me one. If my car comes back with any dents, you’re on babysitting duty for a month,” Eddie called out, as he climbed out of the car. “Also, I’m borrowing your Jeep,”

“Yep— Shoulda seen that coming—”

—

You slid into the driver’s seat of Eddie’s car, feeling a little out of place compared to your usual motorcycle stance. Buck was in the passenger seat, hands already on his knees, clearly trying to keep calm.

"Okay," Buck said, his voice calm but a little tight. "First, adjust your seat and mirrors."

You grinned at him. "I know that much, Buck."

“Right, right. Just… making sure.” He took a deep breath, his hand hovering near the dashboard. “Okay, now foot on the brake and shift into drive. And, uh, easy on the gas, alright? It’s not like your bike.”

“Easy on the gas. Got it.” You followed his instructions, shifting into drive and slowly pressing on the pedal. The car began to roll forward, and you felt a little rush of excitement. “Look, I’m doing it!”

“Yup! Doing great,” Buck said, his voice pitched just a little too high. His hand was now gripping the side of his seat, knuckles white.

You turned the wheel gently to navigate the quiet streets around the neighborhood, keeping your speed at a comfortable pace. Everything was smooth for a few blocks, and Buck’s tension seemed to ease.

“This isn’t so bad,” you said confidently. “It’s actually kind of like riding, just with more—”

Suddenly, a squirrel darted across the road.

“Brake! Brake!” Buck yelled, his arm instinctively shooting out in front of you as if to shield you from some invisible impact and his foot pushed into the floor like he had a phantom brake pedal of his own.

You slammed on the brake, and the car jerked to a hard stop. Both of you lurched forward slightly in your seats, but the squirrel scampered off unharmed.

There was a moment of silence, both of you staring out at the now-empty road. Then, you burst out laughing, the adrenaline turning into a kind of giddy relief.

“Are you okay?” you asked between giggles, glancing over at Buck.

He had his head in his hands, but he was smiling, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just, uh… maybe a little traumatised.”

You grinned. “Come on, I didn’t even hit it! I’m doing great!”

Buck leaned back in his seat, taking a deep breath. “Okay, okay. You’re right. Just… maybe next time, we ease into the brake a little slower?”

You nodded, still grinning. “You got it. No more squirrel-slamming.”

—

A little while later, after a few more practice rounds of smooth turns and gentle braking, you pulled the car into Eddie’s drive, parking it with as much precision as you could manage. It wasn’t great.

Buck let out a long sigh of relief as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

“Yeah, you seemed totally calm,” you teased, nudging him as you stepped out of the car.

Eddie emerged from the house, taking his keys back with a grin. “No dents. I’m impressed.”

“Thanks for letting me borrow it,”

Eddie waved it off, though he shot Buck a knowing look. “No problem. Just remember, Buck, if I ever need backup with Christopher or you’re feeling brave enough to return the favour… you owe me.”

Buck groaned, but he was smiling. “Fine, fine. Babysitting in exchange for not destroying your car. Deal.”

As you walked back toward Buck’s Jeep, you slipped your arm through his. “So, what do you think? Did I pass your driving test?”

Buck grinned, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “With flying colours. I just might need a drink after this to calm my nerves.”

You laughed, squeezing his arm. “Deal! I’ll drive us there.”

Buck froze, eyes wide in mock terror. “Uh, maybe I’ll handle that part…”

[giratinazero]

everything here is from free chapters, but I've put it under a cut anyways in case someone isn't caught up, because I do discuss some season 2 stuff. screenshot-heavy, talking about Ada.

so we know that Ada, obviously, just wants to be loved. mainly she leans on the idea of romantic love, but she clearly just wants any kind of acceptance, given that her reaction to Morella cutting her off seems genuine before she starts blustering again.

I also think her attempt to connect with Lenore in 37 was genuine, because Ada seems to be a pretty bad liar, or at least bad at "being bad," so I don't think she's faking this conversation.

Ada also quite clearly seems to believe she has to earn love or be useful somehow. On a meta level this is reflected in her original life as a maid, and in-story still manifests as doing whatever Montresor says, even before Prospero rejected her. From the start she's been doing what she's told for no reason other than to "belong" somewhere.

in comparison to Montresor [eager as hell] and Will [at least neutral], Ada also doesn't seem down with walling up Duke, but she goes along without really complaining because it's what they want her to do.

Ada wants to be useful no matter what, because then she'll finally be loved this time, right? and what's the best way to be useful? to be strong.

Maybe it's because I reread the dreamland/amontillado chapters a lot, but it seems that Ada is incredibly quick to pull out her specter. We've seen her at least 3 times in a [relatively] short span; first manifesting in 69-71,

then reappearing again in 82-88,

and most recently in 110-111.

That seems fast, right? In comparison, Berenice and Eula have only manifested once, Pluto has only really used his specter once-- he didn't do anything with it in the maze, only in the tower-- and I believe we've only seen Montresor once as well, maybe twice if my memory's bad. Ada defaults to her specter as quickly as possible because it's the only way she feels confident in her usefulness.

So where am I going with all this? I think Ada's going to lose access to her specter for a long, long time.

the stag clearly overloaded her with power, right? it didn't seem to drain her at all-- it made her so strong, her body couldn't handle it anymore.

based on this, I think it can go in one of two directions, and I think they're equally likely. either 1: Ada can no longer manifest at all. this would put her at a massive disadvantage in comparison to other students, but it would put her on equal playing field with Lenore specifically, and could be an interesting way to actually develop a proper connection between the two. Especially given that there's a chance Lenore's group experiences some strain in their relationships, there's room to work Ada in. of course she'd regain her ability eventually, but it would probably require more #trauma along the way.

or 2: because of the stag's residual power, Ada's become so strong that she can no longer control it. she's a liability now. sure, she's powerful, but what good is that power if you can't use it properly? Annabel is running a tight ship, and I don't think she'd be interested in relying on a volatile transformation that might hurt her group on accident instead of Lenore's friends on purpose.

whatever ends up happening on that front, Ada is once again stripped of what she considers her only value. She was useless to everyone before she manifested, and after finally proving herself, she's been forcibly reverted back to step one. As far as she knows, Monty won't want her without her specter, but Morella has made it clear there's no room for friendship without an attitude adjustment. Ada is going to be alone again, even though for the briefest moment, she finally had what she wanted. it's a fantastic chance for character development, because if you can't be loved, be useful; if you can't be useful, what's after that?

[manytoonepoet]

We ran.

We ran hand in hand under the bright blue skies, holding the spring sun up above to shine down our path as we made our way to the heart of the meadow.

There, under the tree.

There, under the tree, the one that grew its trunk tall and strong to support the winding branches and stretching canopy. We sat on a root, one of the few bulging from the ground as if asking to be caressed by the sunlight that dappled everything under the tree's canopy.

Amidst the flowers.

Amidst the flowers we then lay, we plucked a few, and placed a couple on each other's heads. You commented you'd look silly, how the pretty yellow and purple-pink flowers wouldn't compliment your visage, I only kissed you in reply, gently adding a few more atop your head - you didn't dare comment anymore about the potential "silliness" of your visage by then, and embrace the kisses given by both nature and me.

On my lap.

On my lap, you lay your head, an arm over your eye, and a hummed song on your lips. I remember asking about it once, why you always hummed that song, and only that song, when we're together, you'd always reply by tapping three taps on my chest, then continued with what you were doing before I asked. I asked again today, and your reply was the same. I asked why that was your constant, almost default, reply, and you only chuckled, then lifted your arm.

In your eyes.

In your eyes was the sky and the clouds, the birds and the sight of me, the feeling of love you have for me. I knew it was for me; your eyes are always open with me; they never dared to hide anything from me. Enchanting, I thought. Your gaze then shifted to the crown I weaved... "More of those flowers?" You smirked, and I ran a hand through your hair, ruffling it a bit, before laying the crown on your head, intentionally covering your eyes. Your smirk was gone, immediately replaced with another chuckle instead, this time softer, more befitting of a lover. Your hand then lifted the crown, adjusting it atop your head, then your gaze fell on mine, only for it to be shut again by a kiss on each eyelid.

On your chest.

On your chest, I lay my head, my hand right next to it, and I felt your heartbeat and your song. You were humming it again, the beat of your heart a most lovely accompaniment for the song. We both knew the lyrics, but you always chose to hum them, for whatever reason, and you had a beautiful voice, so I wonder... A hand on my forehead disrupted my line of thought, a thumb smoothing the frown that formed on my forehead as I thought. I looked up, and you seemed confused, concerned. I asked you that question again, this time, adding why you chose to hum it.

Sweet summer children, we were. Too young, too dumb for love, they say. And yet... We seem to know better than half of the people within this place.

You hummed it again, now taking my hand in yours and placing a kiss on the tips of each of my fingers. Soon after you kissed my pinky, you went back to my ring finger, kissing each knuckle that finger held.

...

We ran, there, under the tree, amidst the flowers. On my lap, I gaze into your eyes... On your chest, you told the answer in mine...

"Many may not agree, but He does." You whispered against my finger. "Love is patient, love is kind.

It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.

It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.

Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.

It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.

That is the kind of love we share, yes?" "Yes." You smiled. "He is in both our individual lives and in our relationship... I believe we will work. I prayed for you, and He gave you to me. I thank Him every moment that He gave you to me..." "So do I."

"That is my answer to your question."

... It does not boast, it is not proud...

You were always silent in words, just right in actions.

Yet each time...

Each time, you were making a vow.

Each time, you were declaring your love.

Each time, you were whispering a prayer.

Heh. No wonder...