#i think his behaviour is a coping mechanism

[thelikesoffinn]

„Astarion ending as the Vampire Ascendant is the correct ending for him, because it is what he wants.”

That is a claim I’ve been seeing pop up more and more often these days. And I think it’s both a very bold and a very odd claim to make.

But first things first: Hello, I’m a licensed social worker! So far, I’ve worked with children, refugees and youths with behavioural issues stemming from bullying and or abuse.

Please be aware that I will be mentioning different kinds of abuse, coping mechanisms, and victim/abuser relationships. If any of this is difficult for you, don’t force yourself through it. My jabbering about a traumatised vampire is not worth your wellbeing, not ever.

I will, however try to stick to Astarion and not use other examples. If, in any case, I do use a non-Astarion example, I’ll add a warning beforehand so that you can skip the part. And I’ll make it clear what will be discussed in the next bit, so that you have a chance to skip it entirely.

This is an effort to make this as accessible as possible for everyone that wants to indulge on a mad woman’s rambling – and I know there’s a few people that like this sort of stuff!

And, uh, there's obviously spoilers for all three acts. Serious spoilers, even.

Before I can get into the whole ‘why Astarion didn’t really want to ascend,’ we need to understand him a little more. And to understand this pretty boy’s brain, we first need to understand the gist of what we’re talking about when we throw around the word ‘abuse.’

“Abuse” is when someone is treated with cruelty, violence, or neglect – often to bad effect – on a regular basis. Repetitively. Check’s out for Astarion, I’d say, but we all knew that already. I mean, if one thing was obvious, it was this.

1. Astarions Abuse

Next we need to look at what kind of abuse Astarion faced over his long years of torment, seeing as different types of abuse will have different effects on the victim.

Not that that is anything we have to worry about with him – Astarion won the abuse lottery, to put it bluntly. In a horrible game of fate, he got everything. He himself indirectly mentions all the types of abuse he faced, albeit never using the correct terms.

The first we properly notice – fitting, seeing as it is often the most obvious form of abuse – is the physical abuse. Astarions scars are probably the biggest tell Larian could shove down our throats, only underlined by Astarion’s tale about the night itself. About how Cazador ‘misspelled something’ every time he flinched or screamed and had to do ‘many corrections. On top of this, Cazador locked Astarion up for months on end and tortured him – or had him tortured – on a regular basis both as a rite and as a punishment.

Next up, we have the fact that Astarion was forced to basically prostitute himself repeatedly. This is what we call sexual exploitation.

“I spent two hundred years using my body to lure pretty things back for my Master.” – Act 2

Two hundred years is a long time, filled with great many people. Now, we don’t know how many of those people actually tapped into the sexual exploitation and how many he could just lure back with other means, but the fact that it happened a lot is undeniable.

Next we have a form of abuse that we often disregard in adults: Neglect. It sounds odd, I know, saying that a fully grown adult was neglected. They can care for themselves, can they not?

Well. Yes and no.

Adult neglect is proceeded by the condition that one adult has to lean on another adult to fulfil their needs for whatever reason. This could be anything, from disability to income-based issues.  

Seeing as Astarion had absolutely nothing, while Cazador had everything, we can assume this was the case. Cazador had the house, the money, the power. Astarion owns but one pair of clothes, assumedly, that he has fixes over and over again. Fair to say, that’s pretty neglectful. (And it’s one more reason to shower the guy in pretty armour and camp clothes. Go ham, people.)

Last we have the form of abuse we actually get to witness later in the game – emotional abuse.

Once again, it’s undeniable that this happened. Especially since we’re all seeing it in the flesh upon meeting Cazador in his crypt.

“Have you no respect for yourself?”

“I strove for perfection in all things. Even those as imperfect as you.”

“A pity you amounted to so little, despite my efforts.”

“A pathetic little boy who never amounted to anything.”

All Act 3, Crypt

Here we have just a few examples of things Cazador throws in his face. It’s like reading a textbook on emotional abuse, this one (and it’s definitely a reason to throw hands).

Blaming the victim, keeping their sense of self and their self-worth as tiny as possible to make them cower and flee. A true classic.

This pretty much shows that Astarion suffered all forms of abuse we commonly see and it is implied – once again by Astarion himself – that at least a few of those instances were ritualistic.

Now, what does that mean exactly? Well, I fear I need to use a real example here, so please skip the next paragraph.

Ritualistic doesn’t refer to a proper ritual – it can, but that’s mostly a thing for those in a cult. So, we’re not necessarily talking about a ‘Vampire Ascendent Ritual’. A husband, beating his wife every evening after his third bottle of beer is also called ritual abuse. It happens regularly. It is part of a routine. Both parties know what will happen.

I can’t find the exact quote, so I’m working of my memory here, but at one point he said that when Cazador invited him to eat and he said yes, he would be served a putrid rat. If he said no, he’d be beaten.

The way it was phrased made it clear that it happened more than once and that Astarion clearly knew what would happen. So, this can be classified as ritualistic abuse.

2. A Note on Conditioning and Compliance

By default, abuse victims are conditioned to behave a certain way or in a certain fashion. This is a natural response to avoid further abuse.

In Astarion, the thing we see most often is his inherent need to please. Not literally, he doesn’t mind being an arsehole. But he initially feels the need to follow Tav’s orders, even if they go against his own wishes.

This can be clearly seen in the conversation with Araj Oblodra. Astarion very clearly doesn’t want to bite her. He doesn’t. But he will do so, if Tav tells him to. This behaviour is not conscious – he doesn’t know why he does it, he just does – and it is to be expected. This is how he kept himself save for two centuries, so of course he will fall back into his usual pattern when the pressure is high.

This goes hand in hand with the fact that most abuse victims don’t fight. Maybe initially, but not after long term abuse. Especially not after two fucking centuries.

This is true in Astarion – offered by his ‘siblings’ during act 3 and unhappily acquiesced by the man himself. Astarion stopped fighting and, once again implied, cowered, and did as he was told in order to survive.

3. The Astarion we know and love

Obviously, all that abuse does have an impact on our vampire boyfriend. He shows various common signs of abuse and just like with the forms of abuse, Astarion raked every coping mechanism he could find. (Not really, but it feels like it.) It’s also important to note that nearly all of the following things happen inwardly. Astarion is not one of the victims, that tries to rationalise and minimise the actions of his abuser. Quite the opposite, actually.

I’ll note from the beginning, that rationalisation will not be covered in this bit, as most examples will be important later on. But he definitely does it.

One of his biggest skills is to hide every ounce of fear or hurt behind sarcasm and snarky theatrics. He doesn’t seem to hide his anger much, though, so that’s something! Our boy is cool with anger, not so much with being afraid.

“Ahahaha, now that you mention it….I might have done…that.” – Act 3, regarding the Gur children

“The thing that will decide my fate forever more? Yeees, it’s been on my miiiind. Why?” – Act 2, regarding the Ritual

And there’s many more instances that prove this. Honestly, half his dialogue is sarcasm, so it would really be too long to get into and we all know what I mean, right? We have alltalked to the guy before. It’s obvious that he’s sarcastic to a fault.

This goes hand in hand with his penchant for defensiveness. I would personally state that he’s simply not really good with guilt. When talking about fear, he usually just opts for sarcasm or avoids the topic completely, but guilt especially has his defences going up. This is also when he’s most likely to shove all the blame off to Cazador.

“Don’t look at me like that. Cazadors orders.” – Act 3, Crypt

“I just did what I had to!” – Act 3, Crypt

And don’t get me wrong, he does that anyway. And with good reason. Astarion didn’t have a choice for the most part, but he’s still easy to shove things off.

This kind of connects to his penchant for denial.

Astarion doesn’t really like to talk about most things. He firmly believes he is an ‘action’ sort of person that just does instead of plans, which invertedly just means he’s great at pushing the thinking stuff away. He also likes to get rid of stuff, so that he doesn’t need to face it ever again.

“I never want to see these little scraps of misery again. The world doesn’t need to know my shame.” – Act 3, about the children

And yes, this partly rings true. He’s probably ashamed and doesn’t want anyone to know what he’s done. But it’s also very clear that he himself simply doesn’t want to face his own actions, something that is just  underlined by his extreme willingness to red rid of the other spawn.

As mentioned by Astarion himself, he’s big on manipulation. I mean, I don’t think there is much explaining necessary. The guy is willing to do a whole lot in order to get what he desires – which mostly revolves around safety and survival, to be honest – and he’s not really shy about it either. And that’s despite the fact that he doesn’t really like intimacy – especially in form of sex.

It’s not a secret that Astarion is not big on sex and anything surrounding it. This goes far enough for people to consider him either ace or ace coded.

A claim that, personally, I’m not super in line with.

Now, it’s not entirely wrong and if this is your head cannon I’m surely not going to stand in your way – but on a larger spectrum, I think he’s more traumatised than ace. And while those go hand in hand sometimes, it’s a bit difficult for the ace community if you attach traumatised characters to them because it can fuel a whole lot of stigma that is honestly neither needed nor wanted. But I digress!

If it comes to his own behaviour, he’s great at minimising his mistakes. Honestly, he’s a master of minimisation. A very obvious and famous example would be:

“’Killed’ feels like a…strong word. Not many corpses have your vigour.” – Act 1, after killing Tav

Astarion. You literally sucked poor Tav dry and left them flopping around, cold, and dead. Killed is exactly the right word and we all know it.

“Quite the deviation from my usual routine. Capture, not lure. I didn’t bring them in with sweet rolls or anything.” – Act 3, Gur Children

This is another attempt at minimising what he did, if a bit less obvious because at this point there isn’t much he can say. But at least he didn’t sexualise the gur children, right? They’re still spawn but whoo, at least that didn’t happen.  

The next point would be dissociation, which is extremely common in abuse victims – of all forms of abuse.

Astarion himself mentioned certain moments that could be classified as dissociation over course of the story, which is probably the coping mechanism I personally expected the most.

The pale elf has a penchant for violence, but he’s not entirely shameless or abhorrently vile, which gets clearer the more the story progresses. So, two hundred years of forced prostitution, torture and doing whatever other horrible things? Yeah, I’d be more surprised if he didn’t dissociate.

Examples of that would be:

“A moment of disgust to push myself through and then I could’ve carried on, just like before.” – Act 2, after Araj

“I felt nothing the moment I handed them over.” – Act 3, Gur Children

“Did you enjoy it? It felt like you weren’t fully there.” – Act 1, Tav after Sex

The latter is generally more of an assumption than actual prove, but with context it does make sense.

The last common sign of abuse we find in our boyfriend would be his low self-worth. It’s a consistent trait that stays over the course of all three acts, noticeable in many different conversations.

We can see it in his reaction to wanting to break up before finishing his story. We can see it in his genuine surprise when Tav picks him over any of the other characters. We see it in his insecurity whenever Tav asks to sleep with another character. He’s fine with it, but he still worries their decision to sleep with someone else is based on something he did.

It eases up ever so slightly after Cazador is dead, but even then he’s still struggling which is once again perfectly illustrated if you try to break up with him.

“Oh shit. I- Did I do something wrong?”

That is the first thing he asks and I think it speaks for itself. He genuinely doesn’t believe he has much to offer and for Astarion, it’s likely that Astarion will always be the problem.

4. "Oh, I tried them all none of them answered.”

Another big thing that’s important to note, is that Astarion was never saved. No one came to save him from Cazador. There was no darling boy on a white steed riding into that castle to rescue him and princess carry him away. Not even the gods answered his desperate calls.

So, he never received any kindness or luck. To him, the world seems as cruel and horrid as before because he didn’t have the chance to experience goodness in two centuries.

But worse than that, he didn’t even get to save himself. Astarion didn’t stand up to Cazador, he didn’t run out of his own might.

He was beaten to near death and ‘saved’ by Cazador, who would become his abuser.

He tried to save someone and, in turn, was locked up and starved for an entire year.

He was abducted by mind flayers, i.e., saved from Cazador, only to end up tadpoled and on the cusp of getting a fancy, squiddy beard.

Anything that’s good, any kindness, any selfless action…it all came with a ginormous price tag.

5. Over the Course of the Story

Astarions behaviour changes a whole lot over the course of three acts – which is important once we talk about his quests climax – so let’s review what we’re working with!

Act 1 Astarion is guarded as fuck. The man has walls around him that are so high, even the gods can touch them.

A lot of his behaviour in act 1 revolves around staying save and staying liked. He lies, manipulates, and flutters his lashes in order to get what he wants and needs. Instead of asking, like Wyll, Karlach and Gale do, Astarion uses all he has to offer to get by. He is still very much in survival mode and tries to weasel his way through an unfamiliar situation with familiar methods.

On top of that, and most notably, he’s absolutely not fond of kindness or selflessness.

#I saved a child and now my boyfriend is mad

Here, we are most likely to gain disapproval for doing the decent thing – unless you sent him outside for a minute whenever you’re being a good person.

And I’d assume that this is because of two things.

First: The very traditional ‘Why not me?’

As I mentioned before, Astarion wasn’t saved. He hasn’t experienced kindness in a very long time so seeing that the world is literally filled with kind people is hurtful. Why didn’t anyone save him? Why was he left to his own devices for so long? Why should he care about others when it’s so clear that no one ever cared about him? No, dead to all of them. If he didn’t get it, neither will they.

“And what am I owed? What about the injustices I suffered? Am I not entitled to anything?” – Act 3, Crypt

“I was in the prime of my life when I was turned. Everything was taken from me too.” – Act 3, Crypt

And secondly is the fact that, as I mentioned, goodness always has a price. And it’s one most people won’t be willing to pay. That’s how his life has been, so why would theirs be different?

This is precisely why Astarion may disapprove of kind actions, but he mostly neither approves nor disapproves if Tav asks for payment. That’s just how the world works.

Once you venture out into act 2, after getting to know him a whole lot more, he starts to mellow a bit – if only towards Tav.

“He’s afraid, so afraid, of everyone but you, who she should fear the most.” – Sceleritas about Astarion

His approval is a lot easier to gain – or at least keep! – and he tends to approve of some more proper actions. He doesn’t throw a fit if you promise to find Mol, he approves of Tav being kind to His Majesty, of saving Aylin and he even approves of Durge apologising to Isobel after threatening to rip her to pieces.

He's slowly starting to open up, allowing Tav to see some parts of him he previously kept hidden. He accepts their offer to help, if hesitantly and, by god, the man starts experimenting with boundaries.

The social worker in me is shedding tears at this. It’s my favourite thing to see in my clients and it’s no different here. Yay to saying no!

Of course, it’s still a bit hit or miss. If Tav urges him to bite Araj, for example, he will only to later notice that he didn’t fucking have to. He recognises this on his own and he calls Tav out on it. Just like he calls them out on not helping him with his Orthon quest.

Good job, chap. Good fucking job.

And the growth-train won’t stop going even as we reach act 3.

In act 3, there’s not many things he disapproves as of right now – those he does, mostly have to do with how Tav treats him and not with anyone else. In fact, he’s more likely to approve good behaviour now, like giving Yenna food or money.

And yes, we need to consider that this could simply be because he gets used to Tav’s behaviour and just learns to roll with it. But it’s also highly likely that he notices that there’s truly good people around. At least one person. And that person is not only good, no, they’re in the process of helping him break free once and for all.

They’re helping him save himself.

By act 3, he has learned that he can absolutely say his piece where Tav is concerned and he’s more likely to disagree with them on certain things. It’s seen during a lot of small dialogue that he’s no longer terribly afraid to be honest with them, willing to listen and talk and he’ll ask for help if he needs it.

“I can do this. But I need your help.” – Act 3, Crypt

Something that can be viewed both positively and negatively is that he’s definitely loyal to a fault. He will stick by Tav’s side, no matter what.

“I really hoped we could avoid being pawns for a dark god, but here we are, I suppose. I’m with you, my dear, wherever this might lead.” – Act 3, After Jaheira confronts durge

As I said, this can be both positive and negative. On one count, it’s a recipe for disaster, seeing as he could be waltzing into a really bad situation for Tav alone.

But on the other side…this is a man who only cared about himself because that is the only person he could afford to care about. He needed to survive. He now has enough room to breathe and the capacity to care for someone else and I’d be inclined to count that as a good thing.

6. The Crypt

All the progress he made in act 2 and 3 is nearly tossed into the wind as soon as the crew enters Cazadors castle.

It’s not an immediate thing, of course.

At first, Astarion tries to stay light and simple and he hides behind flippant tones and relaxed faces. The way he recounts this is almost comically disinterested and the façade is actually quite good.

It’s start’s cracking after we meet Godie, one of the people who tortured him on more than one account, but he mostly manages to remain as upbeat as one can honestly expect for the first half of the journey.

All that, however, is done for the very moment we meet Sebastian. His mask not only slips, no, it full on shatters and there’s none of his apparent lightness left.

Which, of course it does.

The man is suddenly faced with years and years and years of victims. Innocent, unlucky people he lured back to his master over two centuries. People he liked, people he pitied.

“It’s sickening, seeing them again.”

It’s basically a room filled with guilt, exclusively for Astarion. And, as we mentioned before…Astarion is not great with guilt.

The guilt, however, is not where it ends.

No, he’s also faced with reflections of his own past. The spawn pose as reminders of what he did, sure, but also as reminders of what he was.

Weak, desperate, hungry.

There’s an abundance of images of his worst moments, reflected back at him in the thousands. It’s probably like staring into a funhouse mirror, but instead of seeing yourself in a funky way he just sees everything he so desperately doesn’t want to be.

“It should be [who I am]! I don’t want to be like them. They’re pathetic, horrible…”

He’s forcefully made aware of how darn weak he can be, which claws at all the wounds he’s barely had time to close. Something, he of course won’t admit if asked.

“THEY DO NOT [remind me of myself]. That weakness in me is dead, IT’S DEAD. I have a higher purpose.”

The high pressure of the moment brings out all of his act 1 traits in but a few moments. You can pretty much watch how he starts to shut down mid conversation, one of his old walls snapping back into place to remove himself from the situation.

Thing is though, walls usually become a bit brittle after disuse. Especially when talking to a person you don’t usually want to wall out.

Or, in his case, when talking to Tav.

After meeting Sebastian, Astarion shows extreme reactions to Tav nudging any of his weak spots. His reaction varies on whatever choice you make, but it ranges from aggression to defensiveness, to denial and even to downright begging Tav.

“Don’t hate me. I just did what I had to. I swear I did what I had to.”

This probably the most shocking out of all of them, since that is not something we got to witness before. The begging is likely a mixture of intense fear of losing Tav, his low self-esteem and pre-Tav behaviour, since we can assume that Cazador made him beg more than once.

Another old coat he puts back on would also be the least surprising of them all.

Manipulation.

He falls right back into it, using Tav’s affection to get what he want if we trigger the right action.

“If they die and I ascend, I won't have to rely on the parasite to walk in the sun. I'll be free. Truly completely free. Isn't that what you want?”

This, to me, was probably the biggest tell that Astarion was back in survival mode. He’s panicking, for fucks sake, and who can blame the guy? He’s back. He’s about to face down his abuser.

Of course he’s fucking panicking.

Panic leads to an increased craving for safety and, in his case, power. This is why he clings to Tav, why he begs them to love him still. And this is why he jumps head first into the rationalisation pool.

“I will need to sacrifice them all if I want to perform the ritual. - [You can save them.] – What’s the point? They're as good as dead! I thought they were dead. If they are unleashed, they will cause incredible carnage. […] They must die. Better they serve a purpose.”

Another textbook example.

They must die anyway. They’re basically dead. No need to save them now. They’re dangerous, I’m doing the right thing by sacrificing them. I already thought they were dead, so it’s not changing anything for me. They’re a lost cause and I deserve  all this power. I deserve it, because I suffered and nothing will change if they die.

So, seeing as we already spoke about his usual behaviour in act 3 – behaviour he showed after we allowed him to breathe and be himself for a while – I think we can fairly easily conclude he’s not thinking straight.

Astarion is right back in survival mode, where all that matters is he himself. If it weren’t for the seven thousand spawns, he might have moved through this more gracefully, but seeing those tipped the scales and Astarion is absolutely losing it.

Remember that for the last section, per favore.

7. The Ascension

“Astarion wants to ascend and Tav manipulates him into doing what they want.”

That is basically the essence of what people often claim and I can’t help but shake my head at such a blatant disregard of everything he has become. This is completely ignoring the change and growth he has gone through over the course of their journey.

Astarion wants to be free. He wants to be safe. That does not mean he wants to ascend.

And the claim that Tav manipulates him into doing anything is even more baffling. We are all aware that Tav is not manipulative by nature, yes? That is entirely on you. You decide who your Tav is.

And then let’s remember: Astarion is panicked. He’s afraid and he’s not thinking straight. His abuser is on his knees before him and he still feels so weak. And there’s seven thousand spawns that need handling.

Astarion is very much not okay right now.

In fact, reading his thoughts just proves this theory.

“You can see the fear in his eyes but also the hunger. The thick smell of blood in the air and the promise of power being so close is intoxicating to him. All he can see is the power of the ritual and the freedom that power brings. The freedom to do anything. To be anything.”

Tav, however, has none of those problems. They can actually see beyond the current situation and they are fully aware what the consequences are. Astarion is not. As we previously established, Astarion is a doer. Not a thinker. He didn’t think this through, not at all.

The only thing Tav is doing – the persuasion roll – is reminding him of the very real consequences he is facing. The consequences he hasn’t thought about before.

"I know you think this will set you free, but it won't. This power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador."

And that is the kindest thing Tav could do in this situation. They’re not bodily dragging him away from Cazador. They’re not even telling him to not do it. They’re just offering him the truth. He can do with that information whatever he desires.

“Astarion cries when he doesn’t ascend, that just shows that it was the wrong choice.”

A hare-brained point that I thankfully have only seen once so far.

That crying? That is healthy crying.

That is him, crumbling under the stress that suddenly dissipates. That is him mourning two hundred years of torment. That’s him letting out feelings he hasn’t been able to for centuries.

And, for the love of god, try to put yourself in his shoes.

Two hundred years of torment, ended in but a moment.

Astarion was abused and tortured for so long, afraid for so long only to see his tormentor die just like that.

Cazador died within a moment and all Astarion needed was a darn blade. Of course he fucking cries.

Seeing how pathetic a being the very core of your life’s misery actually is hurts. It hurts like hell because not only are you finally free – free! – no, you’re faced with the fact that this pile of nothing, the thing that’s bleeding out right in front of you…this was what tortured for so long.

This thing hurt you so much. That guy took everything from you, everything you once were, and broke it again and again and again over years.

You were so scared of this thing.

And yet he has the gall and the gumption to die just like that.

It was so easy.

And yet you suffered for so long.

8. Evil Playthrough?

An evil playthrough is really a different setting altogether.

All of this, as you can probably tell, is really only applicable on a good playthrough. Realistically speaking. I’m not sure how the game mechanics handle it.

On an evil path, Astarion never really gets to experience kindness and goodness. Evil Tav will just prove him right in his believe that the world is a vile and cold place, meaning that he realistically would be more inclined to actually want to ascend.

9. Final Conclusion

I think all of this should be enough to make it clear that no, ascended Astarion is not the best ending for the guy. In fact, it is probably the worst. Because it’s just him, running away. He’s running into a lonely and cold state of being, where cruelty and power lord over everything else and he’s running because he’s terrified of being hurt again. He’s running despite desperately wanting to stop running.

“I'll spend the rest of my life running watching the shadows, never feeling safe…no, this has to happen. Here and now.”

And, the worst part is: Nothing about Astarion is left after he ascends. Even his tone of speaking gradually changes, his theatrics fading. He’s slowly losing himself, until there’s nothing but an evil caricature left.

So, in the end, ascension will have proven him right.

That version of him is dead.

[gloomygumi]

quirks - satoru gojo x gn!reader

summary: part two︱you like to think you’re aware of all of satoru’s quirks, but shoko thinks you may have missed a few.

contents: fluff, newly realised feelings, highschool!gojo, he's honestly not even actually there for a lot of it, shoko and geto are tho, honestly a little bit of whipped gojo, probably ooc but definitely self indulgent

word count: 1.2k

a/n: how are we coping since 236 guys ????? wrote this feeling like i’d been widowed so i guess this counts as my coping mechanism 😭 hope you enjoy anyway, constructive criticism and any ideas or opinions you have are always welcome !!

in your past year of knowing satoru gojo, you’d made a note of his multiple quirks.

you noticed how when the group of second years went out to eat together at the weekends, he would whine about how good everyone else’s food looks until everyone at the table took pity (or annoyance, in suguru’s case) and spooned some of their meal onto his plate.

you noticed how when he was in class, listening to yaga drone on about the different types of curses, he would never let all of the legs of his chair rest on the ground. he was constantly swinging back and forth. it’s a miracle that he’s never fallen back, you think.

you even noticed how he somehow kept a momento from every single hangout and mission, each of them stored in a little wooden box he kept on his bedside table back in the dorms. in the past, you’d seen him slide seemingly worthless ticket stubs and receipts into his pockets, and when the curiosity finally got the better of you and you asked what he did with them, you only received a cheeky grin and a wink from your friend.

so, when shoko finally told you some of her own observations of his behaviours and habits during your lunch break one day, it’s safe to say it shocked you.

“i think it’s pretty obvious that he likes you.” she speaks casually, as if her words hadn’t caused you to choke on your own food. she passes you her bottle of water and pats your back. “you couldn’t tell?”

after gulping down half of her water, and spluttering a few times, you finally found your voice, letting out a strangled “he’s my friend - he does not like me like that!”

the look shoko gives you is one of ridicule, but before she can say anything else, you quickly continue.

“how’d you even come to that conclusion anyway, you’re not usually much of a gossip. that’s suguru’s job." you attempt to joke, but you feel the strained smile drop from your face as the boy you mentioned approaches the table and plops down beside your friend.

speak of the devil...

you see shoko's eyes light up, but before you can even attempt to cut her off again, she turns to suguru. "geto! back me up here, isn't it so obvious that gojo likes (y/n)?"

"mhm." he hums, barely even acknowledging the fact that his confirmation has sent you spiraling for the second time. "he's not exactly subtle about it."

"you guys are being ridiculous."

now it's suguru's turn to look at you like you've suddenly grown two heads. "you really didn't know?"

shoko lets out a laugh at his genuine confusion, and reaches into her bag to pull out a cigarette. you quickly hand her a lighter you keep on hand just for moments like this and she quietly thanks you before continuing. "have you never noticed how he's always touching you in some way?"

"that's just how he is!" you defend. "he's always hanging off of suguru too!"

the pair in front of you share a look, before geto continues. "what about how he never lets you walk closest to the road?"

you stop for a second, trying to pinpoint an occasion - just one - where he had only to come up empty handed. in fact, the more you think about it, the more sense it makes. you replay your moments walking back to the dorms after class with satoru, with his arm always casually wrapped around your shoulder. you remember how he always looked comfortable and at peace. you even remember how he would gently bump you closer into the sidewalk if you were walking with someone else, sticking his tongue out at you and ruffling your hair if you voiced a complaint at his behaviour.

your mouth dries up as you try to come up with another excuse to brush off your friends' observations, but you start to question yourself.

maybe they're right...?

you shake you head, as if trying to clear your head of these thought. "he does that for everyone, you guys are just reading too much into it."

between drags of her cigarette, shoko chuckles. "he's never done it for me." geto leans forward from his seat across from you and gently flicks in between your eyebrows. your hand immediately clamps down on the spot, and you groan at him. "what was that for!?"

he ignores your dramatics. "why are you so sure that we're lying?"

his genuine question makes you stop to think. it wasn't that you didn't like gojo, in fact, you hadn't dedicated much time to thinking about him in that way at all. your friends being so insistent on the fact that he liked you made you slowly start to realise that maybe you did share some affections for the ill mannered boy.

you continue to mull over as many interactions and memories that you have shared with satoru, slowly connecting the dots in your head. he always was more gentle with you, never polite but always kind. he regularly brought you souvenirs back from missions that you weren't assigned to and he always insisted on sitting next to you on the train home, offering you the window seat every single time.

almost as if they can hear your inner monologue being to spiral, shoko pipes up once more. "he gave you a different ring tone so he'd know every time you call."

you feel your heart stop for a second, unsure as to why this in particular made you finally believe their words, but before you even have the opportunity to dismiss them again (now in an attempt to convince yourself more than them) you feel the seat beside you sink with additional weight and a familiar arm flung around your shoulder. you barely even register the smug smile shoko is flashing you from across the table as you focus on attempting to cool your face.

"i can't believe you guys started eating without me!" satoru whines, leaning even more heavily into your side. he makes quick work of plucking a large chunk of meat out of your bento, sending you a sly grin as you look up at him in dismay. "what were you guys talkin' about?"

suguru meets your eyes, raising his eyebrows as he meets your glare, urging him to shut his mouth. "oh nothing." he hums, before completely changing the subject.

the conversation from moments prior is still fresh in your mind, and you're now very aware of the soft glances gojo keeps sending your way. you suddenly feel a lot more awkward in his presence, and you barely notice how you're fidgeting with your hands under the table and not participating in the conversation anymore.

that is until you feel warm hands grip your own, effectively halting their movement. "you okay?" you can barely hear satoru over the blood pumping in your ears, and you're unaware of the laughs shoko and geto are trying desperately to hold back whilst watching the scene as you try to speak.

you start to wish your friends had kept their observations to themselves.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

hi! last anon here again. i won't go over all your advice here, and there's some i disagree with, but i have found it helpful and insightful as a whole, so thank you. i don't know if you actually wanted clarification on these things, but i figured it would be worth providing in case you genuinely wanted it.

straps as female disidentification - i do see it as different from other sex aids; it's partially about not imposing man/woman sex dynamics on sex between women, and also that as part of recovering from trans identity i've been encouraged to disengage with any practices, thoughts, or self-beliefs that represent false consciousness/male identification, and that includes a desire to have a penis/penetrate women/take the male role, and replace that with meditation and mindfulness. unfortunately i suck at meditation so i haven't gotten anywhere. i see it more as a behavioural problem than an object problem; it's unhealthy because it's a maladaptive coping mechanism about reality; i don't have a penis and can never have one and pretending i do during intimacy is hurting a theoretical sex partner.

female infantilization - this is about the bush thing; attraction to shaved vulvas is dysfunctional and unnatural.

being put off women's bodies - again this is a dysphoria thing mostly. i like how pretty much all women's bodies look, particularly femmes, and before radfem stuff i mostly just felt horny seeing nude women, but being in an environment that's very focused on the importance of reproductive organs and secondary sex characteristics to female identity has involuntarily caused me to fixate on this; when i see a woman naked i end up thinking about her uterus and the size of her breasts and her hips in relation to passing; i know that things like testosterone/hysterectomies/double masectomies/binding are really unhealthy for you physically and psychologically now, so seeing a woman's body makes me uncomfortable now because i just feel a kind of despair that if she has big breasts or big hips she'll never be able to pass for male without hurting herself and if she has small breasts or hips she got lucky with natural androgyny and she's wasting it, either way neither her or me have any way out of this and we're female forever. which is not very arousing.

once again, thank you for your advice. it's definitely given me a lot to think about (and read). i appreciate you hearing me out.

I'm actually stoked for a response, because these clarifications are very illuminating and genuinely so saddening to read.

that entire paragraph about disavowing the strap is genuinely tragic to me, as an advocate that people should just fuck however they want to fuck. you'd think if womanhood was such an innate and unchangeable thing then a fake dong wouldn't have the power to somehow impose manhood in a relationship between women, but I guess the strap is more powerful than I realized. I would love to know if this applies to fingering, given that you can't really argue that fingers are specific to any gender, or women who use straps to peg their male partners.

being told to meditate instead of want to fuck women is so funny, it's really giving 15th century nunnery.

you may not have been born with a penis but it is just literally a factual reality that you could have on if you wanted; regardless of what radfems think of it, phalloplasty is a very real surgery that can in fact produce a sexually functional penis that many people are extremely satisfied with.

okay sure super normal to fixate on someone's uterus.

I do actually very seriously need to correct this part: testosterone/hysterectomies/double mastectomies/binding are not unhealthy. they're healthcare, and the people who benefit from them - which, reminder, is not only trans people - tend to experience tremendous boosts to their physical and mental health because of it. there's nothing radical at all about opposing people's rights to determine what they do with their own bodies, and between that and the hyperfixation on reproductive organs you sound /this/ close to explaining why women shouldn't be allowed to get abortions.

in the politest way possible if looking at women makes you sad because it reminds you of your own dysphoria, you need to get out of radfem spaces and start hanging with some trans people who can help you figure some stuff out and help you envision a future where you don't fear your own body and sexuality.

[justporo]

Hello! Very sorry if your post was rhetorical, but you asked for Astarion fluff and I had an idea. Since he's a canonical cay person, I like to think that a druid Tav would enjoy wildshifting into a cat and lounging in his lap, either acting as a heat source or letting him run his fingers through their fur when he's nervous or upset.

Anon, thank you so much. I immediately had a scene in my head and this was a true delight to write.

So now that I'm already crying from replying to that other Anon message (not their fault ofc), let's return to our regularly scheduled fluff, eh?

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav (You, Druid this time) Wordcount: 1,8k

Cats with Benefits

Sometimes it got all too much. Those were usually the moments you used your wild-shape abilities to shift into a cat and strolled off into the forest to have some moments of peace and quiet.

Today had been an especially exhausting day – the party had been fighting and bickering trying to figure out how to get through the Mountain Pass. The way was always steep and only loosely fixed, so you only made very slow progress and all of you were already completely exhausted came noon. So, you had decided that you’d take an additional rest midday when the sun was high and hot, adding to your already physically demanding hike.

You had put down your pack, went a few yards into the nearby patch of trees you had stopped at today to use their generous shade, and shifted into your usual form of a fluffy black cat and started to stroll around the small patch of forest. For some time you just wandered over fallen trees or through the underbrush, enjoying how differently it was to experience nature from the perspective of a feline creature. You loved it – it was almost like meditation for you.

The others didn’t know you wandered off like this sometimes. Or at least they hadn’t mentioned it. They wouldn’t leave without you and so far, you’d always gotten back to them in time. And as of late tension was high enough that everyone was pretty much occupied with just themselves, so they didn’t miss you.

After some time, you found a nice big rock in the sun on a clearing in the woods. Perfect for a cat to lounge on and take a nap. You jumped up, allowed yourself a long full body stretch and a big yawn and then rolled up into a ball of fur to enjoy the sun and some time alone.

As you laid there, your thoughts started to wander. You thought about your companions. You liked them, each and every one of them. Naturally, some more than others but you respected them all. But the path through the Mountain Pass had been a strain on all of you. And it really hadn’t helped that today everyone had just seemed on edge from the very first step on out.

Specifically, Astarion had been incredibly annoying today. Not being able to stop complaining about everything. Always replying with a sarcastic remark. To be honest, your relationship with him was probably the hardest and most formal of all thus far.

You had already realised that his flirty and sassy behaviour obviously were his coping mechanism for something deeply troubling, but by the Gods, it seemed he could never shut up. He was hand full at the best of times. Your furry ears started to twitch and the tip of your tail zig-zagged just thinking about it.

You tried to clear your mind then after your thoughts kept spiraling, hoping to relax enough that you could actually sleep a little.

But only shortly after your peace was broken.

“Well hello, who are you my beauty? A descendant of a mighty mountain lion? Rawr.”

No, it couldn’t be… The damned vampire had found you.

Of course he didn’t know it was you, but…

You opened one eye lazily and saw Astarion lean down to you, reaching out one hand to stroke you. Your jaws opened and you could already feel the hiss inside you rising to the top, but oh.

His touch was so gentle. His fingers softly stroked from the top of your head down your feline neck and back and you couldn’t resist leaning into his hand when he started again from the top.

“Someone likes that, hmm?”, Astarion said softly while petting what he received only as a wild but friendly cat.

Shifting into an animal also meant adapting some of their unique abilities and habits, so you couldn’t help when your feline body responded to the gentle touches by purring.

The vampire was positively intrigued when he heard that. As you opened your other eye you could see his big smile – a genuine one. You had never seen him smile like that. “Seems like someone’s just as touch-starved and desperate for some comfort as me”, he whispered while continuing his pets. That made your ears perk up and you immediately felt for the pale elf. Questions filled your mind about his unknowing revelation.

But you had barely any time to ponder them because suddenly the vampire scooped you up into his arms and sat down in front of the boulder you had laid down on. You yelped – or rather meowed at the sudden change of position.

Astarion moved carefully with your cat self in his arms until he was laying in the grass, legs angled, and you snuggled up against his chest. Since he had donned his armour and was only in his camp clothes you could feel his body, beneath your own.

This was incredibly weird and would probably end up with an awkward revelation but – you couldn’t deny that it was also very delightful.

“We can be cuddle buddies, my beauty, at least for an afternoon. So we can both get some much needed affection, hm?”, Astarion whispered to you. His red eyes looked so sad saying that. Whatever you had started to think about to get out of this situation evaporated. Suddenly, you only wanted to keep him company – it seemed he desperately needed it.

And the way he unknowingly had started opening up to you: it was a good albeit saddening look on him. You wanted to provide some comfort it that was what he seeked.

Also, it felt incredibly good to lay there on your new vampiric stone, soaking up the sun together while Astarion carefully continued petting you: scratching behind your ears, stroking down your back with both hands, even when he tickled one of your paws with a single finger. And you couldn’t stop purring. That bastard knew exactly what to do to keep the purrs coming.

Then after a while he just laid there with you, hands on your soft and shiny fur. He sighed: “I wish I could take you with me. You seem to like me. At least more than my other companions.”

Your ears perked up again, you looked at him but he had his eyes closed, head lolled back to enjoy the warming sunlight.

“Especially, Tav”, Astarion continued with another sigh “I wish I knew a way how to change that.”

That was it. You couldn’t in good faith continue to lay there with him as he offered up his innermost feelings. You got up and jumped off the vampire’s chest who got up on his elbows looking sad by your departure. You sat there and shortly pondered if you should just leave, keeping your secret. But you couldn’t, you needed him to know – and also have some words with him.

You changed back into your humanoid form, making Astarion scurry back from you, eyes wide with shock.

“Hi Astarion”, you whispered as you knelt beside him.

“You – what? How? Oh, I knew your eyes looked familiar!” His voice rose several octaves and you kept silent as his mood changed from shock to anger – but he stayed where he was.

“What the fuck was that about? Trying to spy on me?”, he hissed at you. Excuse him? He invaded your privacy. “I was here first, you bastard!”, you spat back and crossed your arms over your chest.

“And you didn’t think to reveal yourself before I proceeded to make you fucking purr?” “How when you didn’t leave me anytime in between petting me and lifting me up? I only wanted to be alone!”, you screamed back.

That made Astarion’s shoulders slump a little, some of his softer side returned. “I’m sorry”, he said quietly.

“No, I’m sorry”, you replied and looked down at your knees while pressing the balls of your head against your forehead “I should have said something way earlier.”

You looked up at him: “But then you sounded so sad and I… didn’t want you to be sad so I let it happen and it was kinda nice... I’m sorry, I invaded your privacy like this, Astarion. I’ll just leave and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

You saw the surprise on the vampire’s face who remained silent. So, you moved to get up, but Astarion quickly grabbed your wrist. “No, please. Stay… It was nice”, he confessed and looked into your eyes. The look he gave you was almost pleading.

The urge to move in and hug him overcame you, so you acted upon it – you had already laid on his chest, hadn’t you? How much worse could this make it?

You moved in and wrapped your arms around him – surprising the yelping vampire so much that he fell onto his back again. You were scared that you had crossed yet another line but to your own surprise you felt his arms wrap around you in return slowly.

And so you hugged him long and tightly. He was tense at first, but you felt him relax after some time. He even started to stroke your back again. You squeezed him and held onto him trying to offer him as much comfort and affection you could muster.

“For the record, I do like you, Astarion. You’re just annoying sometimes. But so can the others be, and I too”, you spoke into his chest, squeezing him yet harder. “And if… if you need someone to maybe talk to or hug you or just, you know, lounge in the sun… I can also change back into a cat, if you want me to. I could be your cat with benefits so to speak”, you brabbled into his shirt before you got too shy to make the offer. Your words were muffled but you hoped he heard you.

He did and the vampire chuckled softly. “That sounds… nice. Thank you. I may take you up on that if you promise you will keep this our little secret”, he answered hesitantly. You lifted your head from his shirt but not letting him go. “Would you like me to change back into a cat?”, you asked him and blushed as you realised what kind of weird deal you had just made with the vampire.

“No, Tav, not this time. This… this is very nice too”, Astarion replied and gave you another – the second this afternoon! – genuine smile. And this time it felt even better, knowing it was actually meant for you. You smiled back and placed your head on his chest again. Astarion’s hands kept softly wandering over your back as you kept holding him.

This is where you comfortably remained until it was time to get back to camp. But you were both sure it wouldn’t be the last opportunity to enjoy a nice cuddle in the afternoon sun.

[another-lost-mc]

Desperation

There's something wrong with Asmodeus.

ASMODEUS x afab!Reader 7.4k Words | NSFW | Smut with Feelings | Angst with a Happy Ending | First Time Summary: You were bullied by another student at RAD. Asmodeus hasn't been the same since. Content Warnings: Mentions of: anger, unhealthy coping mechanisms, possessive thoughts/behaviour, arguing and threats of violence, blood, brief bullying/harassment, bathing together, vaginal fingering, PIV sex. Reader uses gn!pronouns. ➤➤ Obey Me! Masterlist

The tub in Asmodeus’s private bathroom is more like a pool than any bathtub you ever used prior to coming to the Devildom. It’s as enchanting and mysterious as the demon himself. You’re not even sure how he fills it - it must have some magical charm that keeps it full. The fresh petals he adds to the water never seem to wilt or lose their scent.

You’re sitting with Asmo near the edge of the pool. You skim your fingers along the surface of the crystal-clear water and it ripples gently at your touch. Asmo sits behind you on the marble step and supports your weight while you lean against him. He hums gently into your ear while he runs his fingertips through the ends of your hair. His chest is warm against your back. He’s naked from the waist up, but he left his boxer briefs on - for your comfort more than his. 

Normally you wouldn’t let Asmo see you like this - naked, vulnerable - in the bath or out of it. But earlier when he said he wanted to take care of you, his eyes burning with an intensity that left you speechless, he swept you away to his private bathroom. You were both still reeling from what happened earlier that afternoon, and you realized you wanted his comfort as badly as he wanted yours.

It was supposed to be an ordinary day at RAD: classes with the demon brothers, a student council meeting with Diavolo and Barbatos, perhaps breaking up a fight or two depending how well they got along today. You were sorting through paperwork near the front of the room while the demons bickered in their seats on the dais behind you. 

What you didn’t expect was Solomon bursting through the doors, grinning when Thirteen followed him inside. He ducked behind you while he asked for her to be reasonable and you knew things were going to end badly. She screeched at him as she pulled some sort of black, metallic orb from her bag and tossed it with all her might. 

The trap missed Solomon but it hit your arm instead before it dropped to the floor. It beeped menacingly at your feet and you felt the twinge of pain shoot through your arm when you raised your hands to cover your face. You closed your eyes and braced yourself for whatever was about to happen. 

Thirteen ran over and disarmed the orb before it did whatever else it was supposed to do. She apologized to you but glared venomously at Solomon who was still hovering behind you. He rolled his eyes and tsked, completely unbothered by her fury when she continued threatening him for trying to break into her cave again.

Asmo came to your side before any of his brothers could and shouted at Thirteen and Solomon for involving you with their squabble and putting you in harm’s way. Lucifer followed him and reprimanded Thirteen for her irresponsible behaviour, and he blamed both her and Solomon for disrupting the meeting.

While Thirteen was being lectured by a very grumpy-looking Lucifer, Solomon turned to you with a sheepish smile and apologized for involving you in their little disagreement. You shrugged your shoulders to brush off his apology - it could’ve been worse, after all - but his eyes narrowed when you winced in pain.

“Are you alright? Here, let me take a look—“ he offered as he reached for the lapels of your blazer.

Asmo nudged you back, pushing Solomon’s hand away and effectively shielding you from him. “I think you’ve done enough,” he gritted out angrily. His expression would’ve scared anyone that didn’t know him better - he looked terrifying, and even Solomon must’ve thought so because he raised his hands placatingly and stepped back.

“Come on, let’s go home,” you suggested quietly, tugging on the sleeve of his jacket to get his attention. Your arm throbbed and the room felt uncomfortably tense as tempers flared; you didn’t want to be there anymore.

He looked at you over his shoulder and the fire in his gaze softened. He put his hand over yours and squeezed, turning from Solomon without another word and guided you towards the exit. He paused outside in the hallway long enough to murmur a quick healing spell to lessen the pain in your arm.

The walk home was quiet and uneventful, a blur of typical Devildom nighttime noise but the demon at your side had a scowl on his face that had others on the street giving you a wide berth. It wasn’t typical for the Asmo you know. He draped an arm over your shoulders to keep you tucked into his side but you could feel the tension in his body when you walked together.

When you arrived home, you started to walk towards your room for a shower and a nap, but he held onto your hand and seemed reluctant to let you go. No matter what you said, you couldn’t convince him you were fine; maybe he knew you were lying to yourself.

Let me take care of you.

When you agree to use his private bath, you don't expect that it’s going to be both of you bathing together. You’re too tired to argue -  and you’re genuinely worried about him too - so you finally relent and start to strip away the layers of your school uniform.

Asmo is visibly displeased when you ask him to dim the lights in a moment of self-consciousness. He reminds you that you have nothing to be ashamed of, but he does as you ask because he wants you to be comfortable.

While you undress, he gathers fluffy towels from a cabinet and sets them on the edge of the bathing pool. He grabs an empty basket and picks out bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. He even picks up a small bottle of fragrant oil and adds a couple drops to the water, satisfied when the steam from the warm water starts to diffuse the light floral scent. 

By the time you’re naked, he is standing in the tub, his underwear still on - you felt guilty that the silky material was probably being ruined by the water. He doesn’t seem to care about that or anything else except you. When you approach the pool hesitantly, a small smile graces his lips for the first time since the incident at school and he holds out his hand to you. When you place your hand in his, he keeps you steady while you step into the pool and wade through the water towards him. 

You want to sink below the surface of the water or shield your body from him with your hands, both desperate attempts to hide as much bare skin from him as you can. He senses your nervousness because he pulls you into a gentle hug that feels warm and soothing.

When you finally start to relax, he pulls away and reaches for the basket of toiletries floating nearby. You dunk your head into the water to wet your hair while he grabs the bottle of shampoo. He rubs his hands together and massages the suds onto your scalp. He hums quietly and your body sways gently in the water. Your eyes slip closed at the pleasant sensation of his fingertips working through your hair, rubbing at the back of your neck and melting away the tension between your shoulders. He does the same with the conditioner next; he seems to enjoy the sensation of your soft hair between his fingers while he pampers you.

You recognize the scent of the hair products and realize he’s using his own. His taste in cosmetics is luxurious and expensive, more than what you would ever dream to spend on yourself. You feel spoiled, like you’re someone precious. You’re distracted by how relaxed you feel, and you realize too late that he’s pouring body wash into his palm and sudsing it up between his hands.

He reaches for your left arm first, lacing your fingers together with one hand while he smooths the fragrant bubbles over your skin with the other. He does the same with your right arm, pausing before he accidentally touches the purple bruise forming where Thirteen’s trap struck you. He stares at the mark, barely brushing his fingers across it like he’s afraid of hurting you even more.

You squeeze his fingers to pull him out of the worried trance he’s fallen into. “It looks worse than it feels,” you say quietly. You try to reassure him but he doesn’t look like he believes you. He bends his head and brushes his lips over the mark before he continues with his task.

He washes your back, kneading the skin gently with his hands as he moves them across your body. He doesn’t stray below your waist, and he only washes the delicate column of your throat and shoulders before turning around to give you privacy. He gathers his basket and sets it on the edge of the pool while you quickly wash your chest.

You rinse the soapy layer off your skin by the time he turns around and pulls you into another hug. The water was a bit tepid now and it’s covered with a thin layer of film from the bath products he used.

“We should probably get out soon,” you murmur, resting against his bare chest. 

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he says and he holds you a bit tighter. “No one is going to bother you tonight.”

You run your fingertips across the water’s surface. “But the water’s getting cool and it’s soapy.” It’s one of the reasons why you normally don’t like taking baths and prefer to shower.

But Asmo holds his hand above the water and starts whispering an incantation you don’t recognize. His hand glows and the water around you ripples gently before it settles. You nearly gasp at the odd sensation of the water instantly warming up again. The bubbly residue from his bath products is gone too.

“Well, that’s a neat trick,” you say with a quiet laugh. He watches your delighted reaction with a smile.

Asmo walks back towards the edge of the pool and pulls you with him. He hops back onto the marble step and scoots backwards. He spreads his legs and pats the space between them where he makes room for you. After a moment of deliberation, you follow him and settle against his chest. His thighs are bracketing your hips and one of his arms is crossed over your front.

He smooths your hair back and brushes it out of the way, hooking his chin over your shoulder with a sigh. He nuzzles your shoulder with his cheek. When you glance at him from the corner of your eye, you realize his eyes are closed.

“How do you feel?” you ask him in a near-whisper.

He turns his head towards you, humming in contemplation. You can feel his warm breath on your neck. “I should be asking you that,” he replies. He’s dodging your question.

You turn to face him properly - or as much as he allows with his arm still wrapped around you. “You were very upset with Solomon earlier,” you remind him. “You didn’t seem like yourself.”

Asmo’s eyes are open and they flash at the mention of the sorcerer’s name. “Did I frighten you?” 

You shake your head because it wasn’t fear you felt in that moment. “No, I wasn’t scared of you. I was worried.”

Asmo rests his forehead against your shoulder and sighs. “I don’t think you understand how hard it is when–“ he starts to say, then he makes a frustrated noise in his throat. "I don't like it when someone else hurts you.”

Asmo is protective of you the way all the other demon brothers are, so his answer doesn’t surprise you. But you’ve known for a while now that something between you has changed, like there’s some gap neither of you are able to cross. Most of the time he seems like himself - carefree, happy, excited by all the wonderful things in the world that he loves. When he’s not himself, his eyes are cold and his tone is sharp.

Sometimes you forget that Asmo’s capable of rage or violence as much as his brothers are, even though he tries not to show you that side of him. The anger in his eyes earlier when he faced off against Solomon in your defense was very real. You’re surprised he didn’t shift into his demon form; perhaps he would have if you hadn’t gotten him out of there in time.

“Does this have to do with what happened a few months ago?” you ask hesitantly.

His body freezes for a split second but it’s enough for you to notice. His arm tightens around you ever so slightly.

“We never did talk about that, did we?” he sighs. He sounds nervous, uncertain - you know he’s trying to avoid having this conversation with you, but you don’t know why. 

“No, but maybe we should. I wasn’t lying earlier when I said I’m worried about you - and not just today. You’ve been…” you gesture vaguely with your hand, “…different lately. After what happened.”

The water is still warm but it feels like you’ve both overstayed your welcome. Asmo relaxes his hold on you and leans over to grab a towel for himself. He stands and quickly dries himself off. The boxer briefs he wears leave little to the imagination when the water-soaked fabric sticks to his skin. Your cheeks burn when you turn away quickly to give him privacy, and you hear him chuckle under his breath.

He sets the towel over his shoulder and grabs a second one for you. He holds it open in front of him and you stand quickly, stepping out of the pool and letting him wrap you in the towel like a blanket.

He tips your face up with a finger under your chin and looks into your eyes. He leans closer and his eyes dart to your lips for the briefest moment. Before you can even ask what he’s doing, he shakes his head and gestures for you to follow him to his room.

You dry yourself off quickly while he steps into the privacy of his walk-in closet. Your RAD uniform is in a crumpled pile somewhere and you wait for him to return, wrapping the towel tighter around yourself so you don’t get cold.

Asmo steps out of his closet wearing a bathrobe that’s tied loosely at his waist. You catch brief glimpses of his bare thighs when he walks towards you; it’s obvious he’s not wearing anything underneath. He hands you a spare bathrobe to put on as well, and he collects the discarded towels and tosses them in the laundry hamper while you shrug the robe onto your shoulders. 

Asmo lays on his bed above the covers, sinking into the pile of ornamental pillows against his headboard. He raises his arm invitingly and you settle on the bed beside him, tucking yourself under his arm and letting your head rest against his shoulder. One of your hands is on his chest and he covers it with his own.

He peppers the top of your head with a few brief, barely-there kisses then sighs warily. He’s delayed this conversation long enough.  “What would you like to ask first?”

You think back to nearly three months ago when a loud slam woke you up in the middle of the night. A yell echoed down the hall from your room and it prompted you to get out of bed quietly and tiptoe outside. What if someone was hurt? you worried at the time. The sound of hushed, frantic voices led you to the front hallway. 

“Asmo?” you whisper, staring at the demon you barely recognized. Blood was splattered across his arms and face, his clothes stained and torn. He was speaking to Lucifer, but his eyes met yours for a moment before he looked away again. You took a hesitant step towards him, but Mammon appeared out of nowhere, blocking Asmo from view and gently pushing you back towards your room.

“You can talk to him tomorrow,” he said quietly, glancing at his brothers over his shoulder. “He wouldn’t want you to see him like this.”

“What happened that night when I saw you in the foyer?” you ask.

“Diavolo finally agreed with Lucifer’s recommendation that the demon bothering you should be expelled from RAD.” Asmo hides his smirk in your hair. “Lucifer decided his punishment deserved a personal touch, so he sent me on behalf of the student council to make sure he went back to the corner of hell he came from. He might’ve been a little worse for wear, but in one piece.” Mostly one piece, anyway.

“Why did Lucifer ask you to do it?” you wonder, looking at him curiously. A thought suddenly occurs to you, and you push up so you can look at him properly. “Does that have to do with the fight you two had?” You weren’t sure what happened, but in the days leading up to that night, Lucifer and Asmo barely seemed to get along; they ignored each other at mealtimes and exchanged icy glares when they were forced to speak about official school business.

Asmo smiles and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Of course it does,” he says. “You tried to hide it from us, but I knew that demon was harassing you. I was worried about you but Lucifer insisted on following protocol. I found his lack of urgency frustrating.”

“I think we need to reconsider allowing the new student to study at RAD,” Asmo said from his seat in Lucifer’s office, his voice quiet and serious. 

Lucifer sighed warily. It wasn’t the first time Asmo spoke to him of his concerns regarding the new demon on campus but his accusations were vague and unsubstantiated. “I already told you that my hands are tied unless he does something actionable.” When Asmo opened his mouth to argue, Lucifer added quickly, “something actionable with proof.”

But something in Asmo’s tense expression made Lucifer hesitate. “What’s wrong?”

Asmo shook his head. “I don’t know how to explain it. That demon is dangerous.” He doesn’t say that he’s terrified something bad might happen, that he might not be there in time to save you if it does.

Lucifer leaned back and rubbed his tired eyes with the palms of his hands. “I believe you, but Diavolo needs some sort of evidence to justify expulsion if we want to to avoid any political repercussions. Your intuition simply isn't enough.”

Asmo stood from the chair with a frown and strode away. “If you don’t do something about him now, it could be too late.” He pulled the door open and glared at Lucifer over his shoulder. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he snarled before slamming the door closed behind him.

Asmo pulls you against him and rolls you both over. When you’re both laying on your sides, he wraps an arm around your waist. He smiles when you copy him. 

“I thought it was something I could handle on my own,” you finally admit outloud. “I hoped things would get better with time. I didn’t want to involve anyone else if I didn’t have to.”

But since you didn’t tell Asmo about anything that was going on, you still have to wonder, ”How did you know what was going on if I didn't tell anyone?”

Asmo cuddles a bit closer to you and his eyes slip closed when he tightens his hold on you. “Call it a hunch.”

Mammon tried to explain it to you during your early days as an exchange student. You were curious about Asmo’s fixation on beautiful things - including himself. “It’s not just about beauty or sex with him - it’s about passion. Anger, hatred - he can sense those feelings too but that sorta passion’s ugly to him. That's why he focuses on the feelings that make him feel good. That’s why when he sets his mind to something, he puts in everything he’s got, every time. It’s all or nothin’ with that guy. He doesn’t do half measures.”

It was fortunate that you were still at RAD the day things spiraled out of control. The demon that was bullying you had you cornered in an otherwise empty classroom. He pushed your shoulders against the stone wall and hissed with explicit details how he planned to decorate the room with your insides. Despite all your power and education, you froze in the face of real danger. You were naive to think that there weren’t demons left in the Devildom that would still want to harm you.

Whatever the demon was about to do next was interrupted when the classroom door opened suddenly. The passerby yelled for help and within moments the demon was pulled off you. You slumped to the ground, overwhelmed by the adrenaline and fear coursing through your veins. 

Afterwards, you would remember it was Asmo who picked you up and carried you to the infirmary, who sat at your side and held your hand while you were examined for injuries. It was Asmo who slept in your bed that night to help fend off bad dreams, who stayed home with you the next day while Diavolo and Lucifer finished their investigation.

You had all the pieces to explain what happened, the truth that you were too blind to see: it was Asmo that asked to carry out the demon's punishment because he threatened to kill you.

“What have you done?” Lucifer snapped angrily when he confronted Asmo in the front hallway. He expected his brother home hours ago.

“I did as you asked,” Asmo said in an eerily calm, detached voice. “He’s on his way back to the outer ring and we won’t have to see him ever again.” 

Lucifer grabbed Asmo’s arm when he tried to walk away. “When I gave you permission to do this, I stated very clearly the limitations of what you could and could not do. We all feel the way you do, but–”

“I warned you this would happen!” Asmo cried, aura burning as his rage flared. He quieted himself, remembering the late time and not wanting to wake the others, or you. “He’s still alive. If I ever see him again, he won’t be so lucky.”

You knew Asmo was a powerful demon - he was a demon prince of the Devildom, after all - but you never realized his potential for anger or violence could match the intensity of his love and admiration for the things he held most dear. It overwhelmed you to think that he considered you something worth protecting.

But the more you thought about it, the more you realized you underestimated the depth of his feelings for you. He tried to tell you so many times in so many ways that you were important to him. He brought his manicure kit to your room so he could do his nails while you did your homework. When you finished, he would reward you by doing your nails too. He invited you on spontaneous trips to Majolish or your favourite cafe, refusing your offers to pay for the gifts he bought for you. He was always trying to take your photo, or he’d pull you to his side for selfies together. When you asked him why none of the photos ended up on Devilgram like most of his other pictures, he just winked and said he wanted to keep those pictures for himself.

He teased you playfully if other demons tried to ask you out, and he even encouraged you to accept sometimes - not that you ever had interest in any of those other demons, and he knew it. That didn’t stop him from giving you his usual pep talk before all of the dances you were invited to attend at Diavolo’s castle or The Fall:

“If anyone tries anything with you that you don’t like, blast them with some of that magic of yours. Or better yet, summon me and I’ll take care of it. No matter where I am, I’ll come to you. I promise.”

The realization dawns upon you and you feel like you’re drowning, emotions choked by the truth you’ve always known about his feelings for you, and your feelings for him.

“How long have you felt this way about me?” you ask him, your whispered voice breaking. 

When he opens his eyes, they begin to glow as he gazes at you with so much love - it’s hard to breathe. His cheeks flush just the slightest bit pink when his lips slowly tick up in a small smile. “Oh, my precious darling, when have I not?”

You bury your head against his chest to hide the tears spilling down your cheeks. You’re sobbing and shaking your head, whispering apologies over and over again while your fingers clench the silky material of his robe.

“It’s alright,” Asmo says quietly, his hand rubbing your back in an effort to calm you. “I’m here. Everything is going to be fine from now on, I promise.”

You look at him through blurry, red-rimmed eyes when he pushes you back gently so he can see your face. “But y-you did all that for me and I didn’t know. Or I-I-I think I knew but I pretended I didn’t. Things have felt so off between us and it’s my fault. If I wasn’t so weak, maybe I could’ve—“

Asmo frowns slightly and puts a finger to your lips to quiet you. “Nothing that happened was your fault. I did what I needed to do to keep you safe. I’ll save you as many times as I have to.” He cradles the back of your head and leans forward to brush his lips against your brow.

“I love you,” he says when he lowers his head and kisses your cheek.

“And I’ll never let anything happen to you,” he whispers when his nose brushes against yours and he presses his lips to the corner of your mouth.

The kiss is soft enough that you can ignore it, giving you the chance to turn away, to pretend it didn’t happen. He’s giving you an out, you realize. But when you’re this close, all you can see is the faint glow of his clementine eyes.

The kiss you offer him in return is soft and sweet.

His eyes flutter closed as he moans quietly, and the way he tilts his head so he can slot his mouth against yours reminds you this isn’t a dream. 

“Please,” he murmurs repeatedly against your lips. The quiet, needy pleas are muffled but you understand him perfectly.

When you nod, he doesn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss, groaning when his lips move against yours harder and with more urgency. When you part your lips, he licks into your mouth, moaning between swipes of his tongue like he’s devouring you, starved for everything you can give him. His hand slides down your body, squeezing your waist gently before he pulls you tighter against him like he’s trying to blur the lines where you end and he begins.

When you start to roll onto your back, Asmo follows without hesitation, sliding a knee between your thighs and pressing his chest against yours. His kisses become sloppy and the soft, wet sounds are punctuated by your breathy moans.

You’re able to touch him more easily in this position and you tentatively skim your hands along his arms and across his shoulders until your fingers find purchase in his hair. There’s a rumbling noise that vibrates in his chest, and when you tug on his hair with just a bit more force, he breaks the kiss with a groan that makes the dull throb between your legs ache with need.

His hands are everywhere when he drags his lips across your jaw and down your neck. He’s panting between fiery, open-mouthed kisses against your skin. When he latches into the junction between your neck and shoulder and sucks with just a hint of teeth, you gasp.

He hums when he pulls back slightly to admire the mark he’s left on your skin. He raises himself up on his hands so he can look at you properly. You take the opportunity to explore him too, hands sliding down his chest slowly until they settle at his waist. You feel him shudder at your touch. 

“I should be doing this properly,” he says suddenly. When you tilt your head in confusion, he explains, “getting dolled up for you, taking you out for a romantic dinner, seducing you afterwards.” He grins when you flush with embarrassment, but his smile falters after a moment when his gaze pierces yours. “You deserve that. I can give you that if you want. We don’t have to go any further tonight if you’re not ready.”

You cup his cheek. “Do you want to stop?” you ask curiously.

He turns his head so he can kiss the inside of your wrist. “Fuck, no,” he breathes, shaking his head. His hair falls over his eyes, totally unkempt. He’s beautiful like this.

Earlier it was hard to ignore the weight of his cock hardening against your hip, the stilted movements when he kept himself from grinding against you while you kissed. It makes you feel less self-conscious of your own desire, the way his pleased sounds made you feel hot with need. The insides of your thighs are damp with slick and you’re desperate for some kind of friction against your clit. You’ve been clenching around nothing, secretly wanting him to fill you but not having the courage to ask for more. 

“I want you too,” you whisper, staring into his eyes and it feels like you’re finally being honest, trying not to let fear ruin the promise of what his love can offer you. You’re emboldened by the way his eyes are smoldering when he looks at you, the way you’re both trembling with need and the way your voices shake with so much emotion. You don’t want him to have any doubts about how you feel about him or about how desperately you want him too.

He only hesitates a moment before he pushes himself to his knees. One of his knees is still wedged between your thighs, not quite close enough to give you the friction to grind yourself against him. He undoes the knot holding his robe closed and slides it off his shoulders. The sight of his naked chest leaves you breathless.

Your eyes roam across his smooth, unblemished skin. Your fingers grasp the blanket when you feel the itch to grab him and pull him back down. You’re close to begging for him to touch you, and something must flicker across your expression because his gaze darkens. The sweet, somewhat bashful tilt to his lips sharpens into something a little more hungry. 

He leans down, one hand clenching the sheets for balance while he slips his other arm between your bodies. You feel his fingers pull at the thin fabric of your robe and pry it apart and the sudden chill causes goosebumps to spread across your exposed skin. You resist the urge to cover your breasts when you feel your nipples harden. 

“You’re lovely,” he whispers, kissing your cheek softly. “You’re so incredibly beautiful, I can barely stand it.” You tilt your head back when his nose grazes along your jaw and he scrapes his teeth against the sensitive skin below your ear. He pulls your earlobe between his teeth and tugs, licking the skin in a mock apology when you gasp and arch your back against his chest.

“I bet you say that to all your dates,” you whimper. His desire is intoxicating but you can feel the self-doubts bubbling over, your inhibitions threatening to spill from your lips and ruin everything. Before you can say anything else, Asmo sighs his head and tilts your head so you’re forced to look him in the eye.

“None of that matters anymore, not when I finally have you,” he says quietly, like it’s some sort of oath. “I’ve wanted you for so long.” He gives you a hard, quick kiss. “I’ve wanted you for so fucking long.”

He shuffles closer and his cock hangs heavy against you. The tip is dribbling precum and it feels warm and sticky on your thigh. His head tilts back with a moan and he slowly rubs against you, painting your skin with his desire and leaving no room for doubt that he wants you.

You can’t stop yourself from reaching for him and you pull him closer as you spread your legs invitingly. “Asmo, please–”

He growls quietly and in an instant his lips are around one of your nipples while his hand snakes back down between your bodies. His tongue swirls around the hardened bud, and he sucks it into his mouth at the same time his long fingers dip between your folds. Your hips jolt when he brushes against your clit, puffy and wet with your desire and it’s all for him.

Asmo moans around your nipple when he feels the wetness between your legs. He kisses across your breasts as he starts grinding against you a bit harder than before.

“You’re almost ready for me, aren’t you?” he asks, amazed by how utterly perfect you are, bare and needy under him. He licks his lips and you can see a hint of his fangs when he grins.

The way he looks at you makes you squirm underneath him. You move your hips and try to chase his fingers as he explores the soft skin of your folds. The delicious pressure of his fingertips rubbing against your clit is enough to make your thighs quake. You feel the beginnings of your release, but you whine when he suddenly moves his fingers away. Before you can ask him to touch you again, he slips a finger inside you and the sudden fullness makes you groan. 

He’s hypnotized by the way your body moves in tandem with his, arching your back and undulating your hips as he pumps his finger inside. He’s being slow and deliberate, studying your face for every reaction, and when he adds another finger he thrusts them both in deep. You take the intrusion so well, like your body was made to be his, and he knows you're close when your moans pitch higher and your hands scramble for purchase in the sheets.

“You feel so perfect around my fingers,” he murmurs, watching with half-lidded eyes as his fingers move faster in and out of you. He bites his lip when he feels you clench around him, and he’s nearly mad with the desire to have you finally wrapped around his cock. “You’re so responsive.” He strokes your clit with his thumb as his fingers stretch and tease your gummy walls, crooking his fingers inside you like he’s inviting you to sin.

The sensations drive you to the edge and you’re chasing your release, eyes closed and swallowing thickly after you choke on a moan that sounds suspiciously like his name. “I want you so badly,” you beg, and your voice sounds breathy and pathetic to your ears but you can feel the heat of his gaze on you when your body tightens around him. He keeps brushing over that spot inside that feels so good and you don’t want the feeling to stop, you want more. “I want you to come inside me, I want–” 

You cry out as the orgasm crashes through you out of nowhere, wave after unrelenting wave of pleasure setting your body ablaze as his greedy fingers coax every last breathy moan from your lips. He savors the way your body flutters around him, like you’re overwhelmed by the feeling of his fingers still pumping inside you but your pretty little hole’s too greedy to let him go.

Asmo finally pulls his hand away when you try to clench your thighs closed to stop him from teasing your oversensitive nerves. He sits back on his heels and waits patiently while you catch your breath. Your skin glistens lightly with sweat and he can’t stop staring at you.

When you finally open your eyes, he brings his slick-soaked fingers to his mouth, licking your essence from his fingertips before sucking them both into his mouth greedily. Once they’re clean, he releases them with a quiet pop.

“You taste delicious,” he coos appreciatively. He’s so tempted to dive between your legs, to lap up every last drop of slick that clings to your folds. He wants to breathe in your intoxicating scent until it’s seared into his memory forever, to plunder your hole with his tongue until you can’t possibly give him more. 

But as much as Asmo wants to make himself a new home between your legs buried tongue-deep inside you, or to pull you on top of him so you can grind against his face so he’s drenched in your slick, he knows that will have to wait until next time.

He’s been with hardly anyone else since what happened a few months ago. He was overwhelmed by the intensity of his feelings for you - the fear of losing you, the need to claim you properly - and it sent him into a tailspin. He tried to pretend there was nothing wrong and he went to his usual haunts, but he didn’t want any of those other demons: none of them were you. 

Now that he has you, he’s not sure anything can possibly be better than this: the way you looked swept away by pleasure; your loud, high-pitched sounds like music to his ears; and the way you fucked yourself on his fingers and begged for his cock inside you - it’s too much temptation for even the Avatar of Lust to bear. 

When the sensitivity has ebbed and you’ve caught your breath, you let your thighs fall open again and Asmo doesn’t hesitate to shuffle between them properly. His cock bumps against you and when he lowers himself to his forearms above you, he teases you with the glide of his cock along your folds. He rolls his hips slightly so that the tip of his cock grazes your clit and then he pushes even lower, letting the head of his cock tease at your hole. He adds just enough pressure at your entrance that promises more, and that has you moaning in anticipation and spreading your legs even wider for him.

You lift your thighs so they rest against his hips to keep him in place, to encourage him to come even closer, to fill you so you never feel empty again.

His head tips back and soft sighs fall from his lips when he finally pushes inside. Neither of you seem to care about the way your body squelches obscenely with the slow drag of his cock along your walls. It’s a smooth glide until he finally bottoms out and he moans, but he blinks his eyes open rapidly, surprised at the sudden wetness clinging to his eyelashes. One of your hands is clutched to his back, the sharp grip of your fingernails a delightful mixture of pleasure and pain.

You cup his face with your other hand and wipe away the rogue tears that roll down his cheek. “I love you so much,” you say in a quiet, shaky voice, because there’s nothing more perfect you can say in this moment, not when his body cages yours and you feel so utterly wanted. When his cock twitches eagerly inside you, you wonder why it took so long to do this together; it feels like you were both fighting inevitability.

He nuzzles against your hand and kisses your palm before he rolls his hips with a few shallow, exploratory strokes. You both moan, and your other hand leaves his cheek so you can grasp onto his shoulder to brace yourself.

Asmo bites his lip when he rocks into you again. “You feel—“ he breaks off with a groan, wincing when your walls squeeze around him. “You feel so fucking good, I don’t think I’m going to last.” 

Despite the pleasure gripping his senses, he feels the faintest ripple of embarrassment too. He’s worried about disappointing you after finally getting to have you after all this time. The longing for you festered so deep within him that even touching someone that wasn’t you didn’t really satisfy him anymore. He’s overcome by his desire for you even though he tried to ignore it, because he didn’t know if you wanted him, if you were ready for what he wanted to give you so badly—

But you breathe out his name and the unabashed lust in your eyes is unmistakable. You’re panting lightly, wetting your lips with a quick swipe of your tongue and he tracks the movement greedily. “I just want you,” you say when you tighten your legs around his waist, urging him even deeper. 

That’s all the invitation Asmo needs. He braces himself on his hands and starts to move inside you with slow, controlled thrusts. The heat of your walls wrapped around his cock and your soft, needy moans and whimpers overwhelm his senses, and it’s hard to maintain the gentle rocking of his hips against yours when he feels the tethers of his self-control start to snap.

He puts more power into his movements, answering your whimpered pleas for him to fuck you, to give it to you harder and faster. You’re not commanding him, but you don’t have to; he obeys willingly with the rough snap of his hips as he fucks you into his mattress. He growls approvingly when you toss your head back in submission and pleasure, whining and choking on the moans he drags out of you with every push and pull of his cock claiming you from the inside-out.

The bed frame creaks from the force of his thrusts and the headboard bangs against the wall, but Asmo doesn't care, not when it feels like you’re both teetering on the edge of an abyss and he’s so close to falling. He’s determined to drag you down with him.

“Touch yourself,” he whispers in a rough voice when he feels his orgasm approaching.  “I want you to come with me.” He doesn’t remember the last time he felt so desperate, but you reach between your bodies and start stroking your clit in time with his powerful thrusts. Your body clenches around him almost immediately and your back arches, and his cock is suddenly enveloped with even more slickness when you come for him a second time, his name falling from your lips in a broken cry.

He can’t possibly last after that and he doesn’t want to, and your pleasure rips the orgasm from him and he cries out when he spills inside you, marking you as his in a way no one else possibly can. His hips stutter as his thrusts become sloppy and shallow, and the desperate haze clears from his mind when satisfied exhaustion takes its place.

You both groan when his softening cock finally slips from your body. He collapses at your side to avoid crushing you with his weight, and he pulls you against him. You’re both hot and sticky and the air smells like musk from sweat and sex. Asmo knows there’s a wet spot drying on his sheets where your slick and his come pooled between your thighs.

He knows you’re both exhausted, but he hasn’t felt this content in weeks.

You nuzzle into his shoulder and sigh, trying and failing to stifle a yawn. You’re still trembling slightly, but you melt into his embrace and it makes his throat thicken with emotion. 

“I think we need another bath,” you murmur sleepily. Your lips tickle where they graze his skin and he smiles.

“Later,” he promises and he wraps his arms around you. “Stay with me tonight,” he whispers.

Stay with me forever, he thinks and doesn’t say out loud. But when you nod and cuddle even closer to him before sleep claims you, Asmo believes he didn’t have to.

[antis-delete-your-blogs-pls-thx]

Yeah, this is seriously concerning. I think you guys should block and be aware of someone with this amount of Tumblr reach saying this shit.

This b0gl33ch guy fully intends (and has done already, as you can see) to falsely slander queer abuse survivors (a particularly vulnerable demographic, especially to this type of accusation in the current climate) as pedophiles because of coping/vent fic. He's wished death on us multiple times and stood by it, only to deny it when pushed. Multiple times. Despite the evidence otherwise being right there. He's refusing to listen and moving the goalposts back and forth. When he himself has shared "underage NSFW art" for shits and gigs. Hey, bud, if it's harmful, you "joking" about it doesn't lessen that harm.

Again, he denies his behaviour, despite proof being right there.

I also had someone tell me in private that one of the people collaborating on a project with him has sexually harassed others multiple times in the past, so I worry that he's so convinced the predators must be here that he's oblivious to the ones right next to him.

Every time we point out to him our being queer survivors is relevant to a conversation about a) art censorship and b) coping mechanisms, he just rants that we're saying that to escape being pedophiles. To the point where he's actively erased our identities. So I'm very concerned about how this pedojacketing behaviour is likely not going to stop, even with the demographic he's aiming it at in mind.

Oh, and here:

Same guy who's just SO concerned with the harmful effects of minors potentially seeing "problematic NSFW content" online, to the point he wants to censor survivors (and supported getting one blacklisted from an entire industry, btw. That survivor is now destitute and dying from a medical condition they cannot afford to treat). Apparently he was totally fine with NSFW Velma (from Scooby Doo) art, too, and she's canonically a minor.

[grandlinedreams]

Hey, um I love your works, especially the angsty-themed 😭. Anyway, here's the prompt :

We know that Law is a very private person, and he just doesn't want people to see any type of affection between him and the reader. So imagine like things get hectic, or like he's too focused on his long-term planning. He becomes cold and indifferent, and the reader is not an exception even if the reader is simply willing to help. Yes, he's a private person, but everyone already knows that the reader is his partner. His crew, or maybe the og member that is older than him, are getting uncomfortable and reminding (or rather scolding) him for his behaviour to the reader. Maybe the reader overheard their argument and gets sad because the reader has tried not to take his reaction personally, but it's not a good sign when others have enough. This ends with Law's realization that his crews support their relationship and wish the best for them, showing affection in front of them won't get him teased or even annoy his crew.

Thank you, Love 🫶

Hiya papaya!! Sorry that it's taken me so long to get to this, but I hope I can do this justice for you!!

[Heads up!: Law being a tiiny bit of a red flag, unhealthy coping mechanisms, hefty touch of angst, established relationship, hurt/comfort]

"Is that for captain?"

Looking up from where you're setting things on the tray to carry, you find Penguin watching you and you nod.

"How is he? We haven't seen much of him lately."

You hesitate. Penguin knows Law even better than you do, as do Shachi and Bepo ㅡ they're from a chapter of his life you've only ever gotten brief comments about.

"You know how he gets when he's figuring out a plan," you sigh, and Penguin nods. "I'm going to take this to him."

"You're the best at cheering him up," your crewmate calls after you as you walk away, and your fingers curl around the tray.

You wish that was true, that you had an innate knack for easing Law's burdens the way the others seem to think you do. And maybe you did, at one time ㅡ but not lately.

You can't even tell anyone that it's been days since Law even talked to you. It's been a cycle of going to bed without him, waking up alone, and swapping out plates of barely touched food and drink for new.

You know that this is what happens when he gets focused on something, have seen it before ㅡ but it hurt a little less when you weren't his partner. You know you can't expect him to immediately tell you everything, but telling you nothing isn't fair, either.

You knock, then nudge the door open with your hip. Law hasn't moved from where he'd been when you woke up, nor does he look up when you approach.

"I made grilled salmon this time," you say quietly, glancing at the carefully shaped onigiri. "And tea."

Steam curls off the top, but Law doesn't so much as glance your way. This too has not been unusual, but again, it digs the blade further into your chest.

Have you done something wrong? Surely there's more to it than just being busy for him to shut you out so completely.

You turn to leave, stilling when there's finally, finally a murmur of your name from your boyfriend. Your heart leaps, and you turn, small smile on your lips. "Yes?"

He still isn't looking at you. "Stay in the crew bunkhouse tonight. I can't afford to be distracted right now."

Maybe it'd be better if he yelled at you. If he'd be angry with you, be something with you ㅡ because the flat tone and way he still won't actually look at you hurts far worse than anything else.

"Oh," you say softly, "...of course."

You shut the door behind you, back pressed against it as you take a few steadying breaths, willing yourself not to cry. You won't, not when it will get you scolded if he finds out ㅡ so you close your eyes and count to ten, then pull away from the door.

You can do this for him, give him his space, support him from the edges of that barrier he's made around himself.

You can, and you will.

ㅡ

"Not that we aren't happy to have you here [Name], but..." Clione squints at you. "What are you doing here?"

You look up from where you're pulling back the blankets of your bed ㅡ a bed you haven't slept in for months, as your mind is so gleefully cruel in reminding you. "What do you mean?"

"He means that you're usually with captain," Ikkaku says, watching you with a look of gentle concern.

You're not sure how to answer that and you fumble, fighting hard against the flush of your cheeks. "How do youㅡ"

"You're not as subtle as you think," Hakugan chimes in. "I know captain won't say it, but we've all pretty much figured it out already. Not much you can hide on the 'Tang."

He has a point. Ikkaku is still watching you, her head tilting.

"So...is everything okay?"

You blink, fingers curling against your blanket. "Everything is fine," you say, even though it's far from it. Though they may know about your relationship, you highly doubt that Law would be pleased if they knew about any issues. "I just felt like sleeping in here, that's all."

It's clear none of them believe you, sharing a brief look as you slip underneath your blanket and roll onto your side. It's strange now, going from the comfort of a bed shared with someone to alone ㅡ but if Law needs you to do this, you can do this.

You don't sleep well, not at all ㅡ and when you've finally had enough of tossing and turning, you slip out of bed as quietly as you can, mindful not to disturb your crewmates.

Machinery hums beneath your feet as you pad down the narrow hallway, turning the corner ㅡ and nearly bumping into a firm chest.

You stumble back, balance corrected by the hand that reaches out to grip your shoulder ㅡ familiar warmth, tanned fingers stamped by familiar tattoos.

Law.

It's the first time he's touched you in the better part of a week and a half, and you almost hate yourself for how badly you want to beg for more. He doesn't even have to kiss you ㅡ just a hug would do.

You miss him.

Law's lips part like he's going to say something, but the creak of a door opening makes him tense ㅡ and reality washes over you like an icy bucket of water.

So you do what you have to ㅡ you dhrug his hand off of your shoulder, curve your lips into a smile you don't feel, and take a step back.

"Good morning, captain," you tell him, ignore how it rips your chest open to be so formal with him and slip around him to begin your own day.

ㅡ

"Did something happen between you and [Name]?"

The question makes Law tense from where he's putting away medical supplies from the latest supply run, glancing at Shachi who'd volunteered to help him. That, he supposes, should have been his first clue. Not that Shachi isn't helpful ㅡ but that he has an agenda of his own.

Law looks away. "I don't know what you mean."

Shachi huffs. "Don't play dumb, captain." He knows he's treading the line of insubordination, but there's only so much he and the others can take of this. "We know you're together."

Law stills.

"[Name] didn't tell us anything," Shachi continues. "We figured it out. So don't be mad at them."

Law is quiet, trying to process the other man's words before he says slowly, "How long have you and the others known?"

Shachi shrugs. "Couple of months." His tone softens, though it still carries an edge of scolding. "You can't just shut everyone out like that, captain. Especially not if you're in a relationship with someone."

Law wants to argue, say that he didn't ㅡ but he did. Pushed you as far as he could, made you keep your distance. He'd backtracked on months of progress, of affection and trust ㅡ and called you distracting.

Ans you'd taken it all in stride. You hadn't gotten angry, hadn't fought with him ㅡ simply nodded, smiled, and let him treat you as he pleased.

You'd let him hurt you, something he'd promised he'd never do ㅡ

"Finish putting this away for me," he tells Shachi, who watches as Law leaves the storage room without looking back, and he grins.

"About time."

ㅡ

You stir to the feeling of being carried. That's funny, you don't even remember falling asleep ㅡ but you must've, curled up on the couch with a book.

You squirm, and the arms around you tighten as your eyelids flutter. "Waking up?"

Your eyes snap open. "Law," you say, staring up at your boyfriend ㅡ or at least, who you hope is still your boyfriend. "What are you doing?"

"You fell asleep on the couch," he says, "and I'm taking you to bed before you end up with a crick in your neck from sleeping like that."

"Oh." You study the curve of black ink on his chest. "To the bunkhouse?"

"No, to myㅡ" He stops, corrects himself. "Our room."

That gives you a glimmer of hope, allows for you to snuggle further against him, which relieves him in turn. You aren't angry with him ㅡ both a blessing and a little bit of a curse, brcause you have every right to be.

As if sensing his thoughts, you sigh softly. "I'm not mad at you."

"You should be." He nudges his door open, shuts it behind him before continuing towards the bed. The bed that's been far too cold over the last couple of days without your presence.

You cling to him, even after he sets you down, coaxing him to lay next to you. "I'm not," you insist again. "Just wish you'd trust me a little more. I want to help, Law."

Your fingers brush his cheek, and he reaches to grasp them, presses soft kisses to your fingertips. "I know. I need to work on that. I shouldn't have shut you out like that, it wasn't fair to you."

You press closer. "We can work on it together," you say, lips against his collarbone, sweet kisses that make him shiver. "Right?"

"Right," he agrees softly, pulls you to him as close as he can, wraps himself around you. "Together."

[y-rhywbeth2]

Still poking around the dialogue and have discovered that Dalyria has indeed chosen that coping mechanism of living far, far away in delulu land, pretending that they're a genuine found family rather than a bunch of kidnapped abuse victims trapped together in a torture chamber like rats:

Dalyria, to Astarion: "I can't believe you'd turn on us - on your own family." - Astarion: "Listen to me, damn it! I'm trying to save you, even if you're too stupid to see it" Roll (Charisma, Persuasion) vs 18 Dalyria: "You... you really think the master would kill us?"

Yes??

Petras also gets in on it:

Pale Petras: "The master has always been... strict. But we're better for it."

...hmmm. If you say so.

And then there's this:

Pale Petras: "You believe this? You believe that most self-centred, arrogant, egotistical one of us all is here to save the day?" Pale Petras: "When has Astarion ever done anything that isn't in his own self-interest?" Astarion: "I admit, I wasn't the best brother to you, so let me make it up to you. Let me save you." Pale Petras: "No, you were a piece of shit. And you're still a piece of shit. Let's go. We don't need to listen to this."

I do believe that the conflict between Astarion and the other spawn wasn't one-sided and the other spawn probably aren't innocent victims of the antagonism (Petras in particular is an ass) but... Astarion, what did you do to piss Petras off so badly? That sounds personal.

It could very well be "what did Cazador make it seem like you did to isolate you" but to be honest it could very well be a mixture of the two. I can imagine that the other spawn would be forced to share in Astarion's punishments, at least sometimes, even when they weren't part of his behaviour. Seems like a good way to make them turn on him whenever he defied Cazador. I can also easily imagine Astarion lashing out at the other spawn, if he got the opportunity.

[konigsblog]

Konig with a darling that's constantly trying to give him a diagnosis

"Nein nein im not-"

"Yeah looks to me like you have anxiety and show signs of bipolarity disorder."

bring back therapist-reader and obsessive-könig. :(

cw: narcissism, god complex, coercion, manipulation, toxic-könig.

you try so desperately to explain to him that he's not well, that he's displaying narcissistic tendencies and behaviour, as well as other mental health conditions like depression and anxiety. he doesn't like to admit it though, perhaps he's terrified of admitting the truth – that there's something wrong with him – but, he doesn't want to believe it. i mean, he's perfectly fine, his expression of love and adoration doesn't seem abnormal, or at least to könig himself...

he talks to you about his struggles when it comes to his line of work, talking about the soldiers in a demeaning way, as if they don't hold the same amount of value as he does. sometimes he'll distract you and attempt to talk about his admiration for you. you treat him so well, why won't you accept his hugs and kisses at the end of the appointment? you're breaking his heart, little lamb.

könig may also attempt to seduce or coerce you into having sex with him, as he says, ‘it's a coping mechanism’. he's so depraved for you, he'd drop to his knees for you, and gets offended when you decline him. alright, so you don't think he's important? when he asks about your love life, he cannot control his rage hearing about another man. perhaps he shouldn't have asked, but he simply can't wrap his head around you not wanting him.

his god complex is obvious, that he doesn't view anyone the same as him. könig believes he's more important than anyone – that no one should receive the same amount of love as him, believing he's more worthy of respect than anyone else.

no regards for anyone, but himself. :(

[sammygender]

i just feel like looking at precanon dynamics going ‘oh the main reason sam and john clash is because they’re sooooo similar’ is ignoring actual canon and implication in favour of taking a specific comment about a specific arc of sam’s that dean makes and running with it.

for one it’s missing all the context which is. this isn’t two random people who clash for unknown reasons, this is a father and the son he’s actively abusing and neglecting. sam has a right to be angry!! it’d be more concerning if he Wasnt angry (a la dean)!!

also just what we do see in canon is like. totally the opposite. john’s always hated the fact that sam’s different from him… that sam wants different things, doesn’t want to hunt, a different life…. DEAN’S the one who tries to be identical to his father. whether he succeeds is another story (i don’t think he’s innately very like john but i do think he leans into the same coping mechanisms and behavioural patterns, wholly for the worse!) but john seems to mostly believe him. even going by the journal which like. i know people don’t take as canon but i like it <3. john thinks dean’s practically a mini him (ofc he Isn’t but) and that sam reminds him of mary. 🤷‍♂️ ofc you can still see sam and john as being similar in some ways. i can certainly see it and i’m sure i’ve written it. kids r often like their parents. but 1 that’s not, like, the Secret Reason they’ve always fought so badly and 2 sam is like john sometimes but he’s also like mary who’s like dean who’s also still like john. and sam and dean are often like each other. i already went on about this in my last post so i’m repeating myself but. reject the false binary inside your head where a sibling like. picks a parent and grows up to identically be them.

[froggywritesstuff]

yandere!boris pavlikovsky hc's

ship/pairing: yandere!boris pavlikovsky x g/n!reader

fandom: the Goldfinch

request: @racheldreamsworld: Can you do a yandere boris Pavlikovsky from movie goldfinch headcanon?

warnings: yandere, unhealthy and toxic relationships, obsessive behaviour, stalking, mentions of cigarettes, pressuring into to doing drugs, emotional blackmail, mentions of addiction, mentions of suicide, guilt tripping, non consensual touching (not explicitly sexual), there's a lot going on so please let me know if I've missed any warnings

word count: 460

A/N: i do not in any way support yandere behaviour, please know that this writing is purely fictional, and should not ever be reenacted in real life

as soon as he saw you, he immediately became obsessed with you

though near the beginning of his obsession, he tries to be quiet about it

he follows you wherever you go

if you're eating lunch, he's sitting beside you

he walks you to your classes, silently bidding you farewell

when you ask him what his deal is, he nonchalantly introduces himself and claims to be your friend

he does not care how he gets it but he needs your attention

so he is definitely satisfied when you just stare at him with a confused expression and try to distance yourself from him while he walks beside you on your way home

speaking of which, once he finds your address, nothing is stopping him from stalking you

you're relieved when you find him not at school some days, unaware that he skips school to go to your house and look through all your things

you don't question it when you come home to one of two of your shirts on the floor, thinking it's because you were in a rush that morning

you are a little weirded out when said shirts and your pillow have a slight scent of cigarettes and something else you can't put your finger on

eventually you grow more and more paranoid as you find more and more things out of place or missing from your room

when you gather some courage, and ask Boris why he's so adamant on following you everywhere, you're more than surprised when he asks to be your boyfriend (though the way he words it makes you feel like you don't have a choice)

will threaten to kill himself if you try to reject him

like no hesitation, he thinks it's the only logical response

he guilt trips you a lot of the time 

you can't talk or hang out with your friends without hearing Boris getting pissed at you, mumbling about how you'll leave him, just like everyone else does

he’s always inviting you over to his house

meaning if you don't want an earful about how bad of a partner you're being by not wanting to spend time with your boyfriend, you hang out at his house a lot

he pressures you to try some of the drugs he has

he wants to get you addicted so you'll want to go to his house more and he can keep you from everyone else

and sometimes when he gets you high, you're much calmer around him, and he can be way more touchy with you, so that's always a plus

acts like you're the cure to all his problems when in reality his coping mechanisms and the way he acts around you are the cause of his deteriorating mental health

[hotdaemondtargaryen]

TOM GLYNN-CARNEY PHOTOGRAPHED BY JEMIMA MARRIOTT FOR NÚMERO NETHERLANDS MAGAZINE.

WHAT IS IN STORE FOR YOUR CHARACTER THIS SEASON?

"We see Aegon in every form. He is powerful then vulnerable, calculated then frantic, playful then desperate, desperately seeking validation and respect from his council and the people of Westeros."

"He is a cacophony of chaos, laced with deeply embedded trauma. He is unpredictable and dangerously explosive."

HOW EXCITING WAS IT GETTING CAST ON A SERIES THAT IS A PREQUEL TO THE IMMENSELY POPULAR 'GAME OF THRONES'?

"Still doesn’t feel real, but I am enjoying every second of it and I’m dedicating myself entirely to the work."

"Aegon is exhausting to play and definitely takes a piece of me, but I am happy to give him that in exchange for this freedom and creative fulfilment."

HOW DID YOU ALL COLLECTIVELY AND YOU PERSONALLY DEAL WITH THIS?

"I don’t think about that."

"You can’t, otherwise you wouldn’t turn up to work."

"Turn up, put the wig on and let rip."

HAVE YOU UNDERGONE ANY SPECIAL PREPARATIONS FOR THE ROLE OF AEGON?

"Sleep is important."

"He takes a lot from me, so sleep is key."

WHAT EXCITES YOU ABOUT PERFORMING ON STAGE THE MOST?

"The danger of it. The raw and electric energy. The fact that it is different every night and the way it keeps you as an actor sharp and precise."

"I couldn’t be an actor without doing theatre."

"It’s where I go back to, to find inspiration and courage."

IS THERE ANY PARTICULAR MOMENT IN YOUR LIFE THAT INSPIRED YOU TO BECOME AN ACTOR?

"Being curious, being fascinated by human behaviour, obsessing over body language, social interactions, coping mechanisms, idiosyncrasies that stem from insecurities."

"Trying to be a sponge to everything I see and hear."

"Collecting as many things as I can and bringing these to life in an authentic, truthful way."

"An old teacher of mine, Richard Goodwin Brown, was a huge influence on me."

LOOKING BACK ON YOUR CAREER SO FAR, WHAT DO YOU PERSONALLY CONSIDER YOUR BIGGEST ACCOMPLISHMENT? AND LOOKING FORWARD, WHAT DO YOU CONSIDER YOUR BIGGEST GOAL FOR THE FUTURE?

"Getting this far is my greatest achievement."

"My biggest goal is to be old, on my death bed and look back at my career with pride, in the knowledge that I did my best work, worked with some great people and made some lifelong friends on the way."

TELL US MORE ABOUT YOURSELF. WHO IS TOM OFF THE SCREEN AND WHAT DOES HE ENJOY MOST IN LIFE WHEN HE IS NOT ACTING?

"I love my dog, Ziggy. I love music, art and poetry. I love animals. I love and need wide open spaces, peace, quiet and water."

"I love a night in a dark pub, round a table with trad musicians, fiddle, guitar, tin whistle, bodhran, whiskeys and pints of guinness, singing Ireland’s songs until the early hours."

[writing-for-life]

Dream's Therapist

I’m not sure if I should apologise for this brain fart in advance, but it just found its way to the page after this. Yes, this is how my brain works (or rather doesn’t)…

Intake Session

The client presented for his intake session on 22/04. When he made his appointment, he showed particular interest in the fact that this is an integrative therapy practice which uses cognitive, behavioural, somatic and Jungian approaches and is also versed in sex therapy. Naturally the ethical kind.

He was extremely on time (that is to say, close to three hours early), but he insisted on spending that time in the waiting area instead of coming back later. My receptionist assured me he did not move from the offered chair during that time and that he, in fact, did not move at all. She occasionally had to check (inconspicuously of course) if he was breathing.

Upon entering my office, he was polite if slightly aloof. He was dressed all black and refused to take off his coat. No problems with personal hygiene could be perceived from a distance. After getting seated, he enquired whether I could dim the lights ever so slightly because it was too bright, to which I agreed.

I noticed his staring at the crystal paperweight on my table for an extended period of time before he, seemingly out of nowhere, asked: “I trust your office is a mere illusion, a fleeting moment in existence?”

DT: Something like that I guess. What brings you here?

Dream: Well, I have these recurring nightmares. Not while I am sleeping, since I obviously don’t sleep.

DT: Obviously.

Dream: I create them.

DT: The nightmares?

Dream: Yes. And all of a sudden, they all suffer from… existential dread instead of helping to get rid of it. Also, my hair keeps getting tangled and knotted all the time, but I am not quite… certain if this relates in any way.

DT: Interesting. And how does that make you feel?

Dream (deadpan): Feel? I don't “feel”. I weave narratives, conjure nightmares, and occasionally attend celestial tea parties. Emotions are for mortals. The hair is inconvenient though.

DT: Right. Let's explore your childhood. Did you have any issues with your family?

Dream (I notice uneasy shifting in his seat): My family? My father, always running late. My mother… (I notice a slight tremble in his bottom lip)… well, she is… dark. My sister, Death, tells me I am a buzzkill, especially at family gatherings. Truthfully, I believe all my siblings are just trying to gaslight me into believing so because I can be… quite entertaining? (I notice uncertainty). Plus, one of them is… let's just say: they are the reason I have commitment issues.

DT: Commitment issues. Let’s expand on that a bit. Have you ever been in love?

Dream: (I notice extreme rigidity): Love is a quaint human invention, like gluten-free pizza or reality TV.

DT (I don’t know what that means and ignore it): I sense reluctance around the topic?

(He stares at the paperweight for a good 3 minutes)

Okay, let's try word association. I'll say a word, and you respond with the first thing that comes to mind. Ready?

Dream: Proceed, mortal.

DT: Sand.

Dream (I notice a raised eyebrow and a slightly tetchy sigh): Golden grain sifting through my fingers.

DT: Pillow.

Dream: A convenient weapon during astral battles.

DT (I momentarily feel confused and lose my footing, to which he reacts with)

Dream: I could show you? (I notice he makes a move to get up from his seat)

DT: That won’t be necessary right now… Word association: Unicorn.

Dream: (I notice grave seriousness) My ex-wife. I think.

DT: That should suffice for now. Let’s briefly discuss coping mechanisms. How do you handle stress?

Dream: Stress? When the universe unravels and the fabric of the Dreaming tears, I binge-watch reality shows. The Kardashians, mostly.

DT: Why the Kardashians?

Dream: Distraction. Inspiration. For all manner of things. Mostly nightmares.

DT (I notice the recurring theme of nightmares): Do you hold any hopes or dreams for the future?

Dream (I notice a nervous twitch around his mouth which he tries to hide unsuccessfully): I am the King of Dreams. Dreams shape reality itself. But if you must know, I dream of a world where everyone flosses regularly and understands general relativity.

DT: Why is flossing important?

Dream: I just like good teeth.

DT: Why general relativity?

Dream: Because it would help. With ships.

DT: What ships?

Dream (I notice eye-rolling and bridge-of-nose-pinching): Never mind.

DT: It’s okay, we can talk about anything that seems important to you.

Dream: It is of no import. Is time up yet?

DT: No.

Dream: Good, I shall leave then.

DT (I feel confused but try not to show it and respect the client’s wish to leave. I’m getting paid either way): Same time next week?

Dream (who is already standing): Time is a mere construct. But yes, let us pencil it in. And remember, reality is just a draft…

Further notes: The client suffers from insomnia and thinks he creates nightmares. He potentially has internalised he is one. He seems detached from his feelings to the point he believes he does not have any emotions and does not seem to relate to being human. He feels misunderstood by his whole family and suffers from the delusion that his sister is Death. He makes another of his siblings responsible for his failed relationships, which has led to the ingrained belief that love is not for him. He seems to compensate with believing he is above others and refers to himself as the “King of Dreams”. I notice a tendency to shirk potentially painful topics. He seems to communicate diminished interest or pleasure in all, or almost all, activities apart from binge-watching TV, but he seems quite enamoured with the concept of astral battles and general relativity, which requires further exploration…

Next Session >

[esamastation]

Shizuroth, part twenty-two

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one

-

Professor Hojo is in the middle of an important experiment, when an overly excitable technician from the SOLDIER floors calls in to disturb him.

"Professor, I am very sorry for disturbing you, sir, but you need to see this!"

That is such an uninformative, insipid thing to say that Hojo mistakenly gives the man the benefit of the doubt and expects him to say more, to explain himself. When the man doesn't, he scoffs. "See what? Be more specific!"

"Yes, sir, sorry, sir - it's SOLDIER First Class, Sephiroth - he's in the training room."

Useless! "Sephiroth is often training, that is hardly anything to get excited over."

"Sir, by our estimation he's held a sustained Limit Break state for the past twenty-five minutes! And he isn't fighting!"

Hojo perks up at that. "Was he fighting when the Limit Break began?"

"No, sir, he's just, sort of… swinging his sword around? There's no enemy AI, he hasn't been in active combat at all!"

And yet he entered a Limit Break state? Sustaining it for twenty five minutes? Setting aside the utter incompetence of the tech for not calling him earlier, Hojo strokes his chin. Limit Break is caused by stress in life and death situations - a surge of strong emotions activates certain chemicals in the brain, which in turn push the body into a higher state of alertness and cause it to use all potential avenues for survival. It can increase a person's power output on all fronts, even doubling it - but only for a brief moment in time. Longer than that, and the muscle strain alone becomes detrimental.

It is a primitive instinct, a last ditch effort in the face of death, which Mako exposure has made slightly more commonplace in humans - and very commonplace in SOLDIERs. Mako acts as a natural stress trigger - and at the same time it acts as a well of power for SOLDIERs in Limit Break to use.

Much research had gone into intentional activation of the Limit Break state, with less than satisfactory results. If Sephiroth has figured out how to trigger the state outside combat…

"I'm on the way," Hojo says. "Do not tell him and do not let him leave."

"Yes, sir!" the overly excitable technician cries, and Hojo snaps his PHS shut.

As he strides to the elevator, Hojo considers the reports he had gotten, of Sephiroth's unusual activity in the last two days. Request for time off, unusual purchases, shopping trip with Hollander's failed project… coping mechanisms, he'd thought with disappointment. Sephiroth had dealt with the incident with a disheartening show of what could only be called mental weakness, striving for some semblance of control by spending money on frivolity. 

But though an unusual reaction from Sephiroth, Hojo has seen worse, and so he'd been satisfied letting it slide, for now. If the usual behaviour continues it might require correcting, but only if it affects overall performance, and results are still pending. Further observation is needed.

The elevator carries him down to the SOLDIER floor, and he finds it unpleasantly busy. There is a crowd in front of the training room, SOLDIER Seconds and Thirds vying for a view inside. They're almost all babbling amongst themselves.

"He never trains here - I thought the virtual scenarios were kinda beneath him."

Yes, Hojo thinks with some satisfaction, they usually are. Though Hojo had been thinking about adding to the programming, to bring the virtual training chamber up to actually usable standards, for now it has very little to offer for someone like Sephiroth, a truly superior specimen.

"Do you think they're recording him? Do you think we'll get to see the recordings?!"

A very worthy thought, it's good to see there's some sense among the experimental subjects. There is much the lower ranks of SOLDIER could learn from Sephiroth.

"Did you see what he was wearing?" 

Bah. "Will all of you move!" Professor Hojo says, irritated now, and watches with a displeased curl of his mouth as the SOLDIERs finally notice him. "You are in my way."

"Professor Hojo!"

"The professor is here!"

"How scary -"

"Sorry, Professor -"

Hojo waits until they've cleared the way, wondering if he should take a firmer hand in the program. Clearly standards have been slipping since the time he was directing the program personally. Sadly, he doesn't have time to manage grunts these days, there's much more valuable work to be done, but perhaps a message to Deusericus would set things to rights.

Something to deal with later.

Hands clasped behind his back, Hojo enters the training room observatory. The technicians both quickly rush to greet him, and he waves them off, walking up to the viewing window.

Sephiroth is performing Wutai sword forms, slowly moving between stances and attacks, with all the grace and precision Hojo has come to expect from him.

And he is, indeed, putting off enough energy for a Limit Break - even though the holographic setting, the glow around him is visible.

"What have you recorded?" Hojo asks, narrowing his eyes.

"Everything from the moment he entered, sir," the overeager technician tells him while the other one fumbles with a pad, handing over the latest printout. "His level is showing in the low fifties range!"

Low fifties? "Then he's not at Limit Break," Hojo scowls, scanning through the readings.

"But, sir, the signature glow -"

"Sephiroth's resting level is forty eight," Hojo says impatiently. "His Limit Breaks regularly go to the upper seventies and beyond. Whatever this is, it's not a Limit Break."

But it is most definitely something. The energy output of Sephiroth's little session started uneven and then slowly levelled out as he continued. It had even decreased, which normally would be cause for concern, but seeing the steady, regular energy output now…

Hojo smiles, feeling the beginnings of a giggle in his gut. 

Clearly, Sephiroth is figuring something out about himself and his enhancements. He has unlocked a new ability, a sixth sense, perhaps even a whole different way of controlling energy. Something he inherited from his mother, but wasn't yet able to use.

There is only one explanation. The incident in the lab has pushed Sephiroth forward. The excess Mako or the moment he was technically dead - one or both together had broken through a human limitation. 

The experiment has evolved.

-

Ick.

[rewritingcanon]

what do u think of the portrayal of harry and ginny in the cursed child (i feel like it's so out of character, especially for harry) also that he works at the ministry and that ginny gave up her quidditch career (same goes for harry)

alright ive had this in my inbox for so long because i wanted to do this ask justice so i really hope that anon is still around to read this. in saying that harry was ‘out of character’ in hpcc, i assume you’re talking about how he was a bad/flawed father, as MANY fans have argued the same. so i will address that first and then i will talk about ginny and hinny’s careers.

disclaimer: when i say “you” im not talking specifically about anon but about fandom.

harry potter vs fatherhood

harry’s whole life resolved around being the chosen one and the prophesied saviour of the wizarding world. it was either being The Hero or being the unwanted, abused and scorned freak living with the dursleys. when thats your home life, then you tend to cling on to anything that is an escape from that— and in harry’s experience that was hogwarts.

if you really think about it, hogwarts was very nasty to harry as well. he was always getting picked on or bullied or in some life threatening danger that he got blamed for half of the time— but because it was better than living with the dursleys, his mind idolised it as a safe haven.

harry also reflects this idolising behaviour onto parental figures, especially paternal figures. he doesnt actually know his parents, only has an ideal of them in his head that was constructed as a coping mechanism to the abuse and neglect he went through at home. he projects The Perfect Father onto every one of his paternal figures (i think the only exception to this is arthur but i mayyy be wrong)— sirius and dumbledore are the biggest ones that come to mind, even though sirius only knew him for two years, and dumbledore would manipulate and use harry for the betterment of the world, which is unlike a parent who would put their child’s needs first (harry did not recognise these issues at length at the time as he was used to the idea of self sacrifice and probs understood that it came with the territory of being The Hero). harry even projected his father onto himself in PoA and nearly died from it.

in saying this, its reasonable to argue that there’s a disconnect with harry and the idea of what a good father actually is. this is challenged in the books itself (with SWM, harry seeing that james was not the Perfect Man he built up in his head), but this is challenged the most in the cursed child.

throughout the play, harry acts as the personified ideal he grew up with. easygoing, confident, wise— when in reality he is the opposite of those attributes and albus can see right through it (ginny says this to harry in the play, i would find the line but alas, im on the train rn). hes not easygoing or confident— he’s fearful that he doesn’t know what hes doing or how to be a father, and hes scared not knowing makes him a bad father. hes acted out in fear multiple times— the biggest moment is when he bans albus from seeing scorpius to keep him ‘safe.’ he has constant nightmares about his trauma as a child when living with the dursleys and not having the stability or love he craved. his ‘wise’ advice is not applicable to his children because he is harry potter, The Hero, and they are just normal kids. this is why albus and harry get on each others nerves so badly— because they are constantly stomping on each others sore spots by accident. albus doesn’t appreciate the facade that harry tries to uphold, and harry doesn’t understand why— because he’s projecting that ideal onto all of his kids, and if it works for james and lily (presumably), why doesn’t it work for albus? harry would’ve done anything for a father figure like himself!! there must be something wrong with albus!! (🙄)

now The Blanket SceneTM is very controversial and pissed off a lot of longtime fans into denouncing the entire play as canon. ive talked about it at length and since theres more to discuss in this post, i will shorten it down as best i can for you:

as a way of bonding, harry tries to give his precious blanket to albus. he believes albus may be more like him and may be able to understand the sacredness of the present unlike his siblings.

unknowingly, harry is still projecting his ideals onto albus. the blanket is only so extremely precious to him because it represents his parents, who he still views in an idolised light. therefore the blanket is the ideal.

albus scorns this ideal so he scorns the gift. however, because hes a confused and possibly depressed fourteen year old, he doesn’t communicate the rejection of this in a healthy way and basically insults the blanket by calling it old and mouldy and comparing it to james and lily’s presents, which outwardly could make him seem like a brat.

by attacking the blanket, he attacks harry’s parents and the ideal. and harry is very sensitive about this

albus then accidentally triggers very central fears surrounding being an orphan and being a father when he says “i wish you werent my dad”

harrys first thought is that albus wants him dead. at this point, hes stopped listening to albus trying to explain himself as he’s already triggered, so he’s acting in complete defence when he responds “sometimes i wish you werent my son”

this was said with the intention to hurt albus, it was a mindless act with one goal. saying this is out of character for harry is ridiculous, because he’s done the exact same thing in the books multiple times to the people he loves.

another important note: these characters trigger each other accidentally. the intent to connect is there, but there are deep seated issues on harry’s side that was never confronted leading to these issues. and as albus is a young angsty teen who does get bullied and is a little self-centred (again, very normal for a 14yo), he can’t really communicate these issues to harry effectively (harry being dismissive of the bullying (that he believes is normal for hogwarts students) albus goes through doesn’t help the situation either), leaving harry stumbling in the dark and further emboldening that The Perfect Father he imagined as a child may not exist.

ok that wasnt very economical but anyways! those are the issues! what happens next is harry spiralling and confirming those fears, being forced to confront them and deal with them, and then the steps toward healing his relationship with albus.

im not defending how harry treated albus (dismissing his bullying, lashing out, the enmeshment abuse) but offering insight and trying to explain that he was certainly in-character. i think people simply had an emotional reaction to seeing their loved character being very realistically flawed, and decided they didnt like it without doing much analysis as to why harry was acting the way he was. trauma is very complex, and theres no expiry date for it if you simply refuse to confront it or heal.

a lot of harry’s journey with interrogating the Perfect Father concept was to confront and acknowledge his inner child. he has to recognise his childhood for the childhood it was without the flashy titles or impressed ideals. the confrontation with dumbledore is the pinnacle of it— harry idolised dumbledore as a central father figure, and he realised when confronting the portrait that his relationship with dumbledore was much more complex and nuanced than he originally thought. suddenly dumbledore ceases to be an ideal, and harry sees him for the man that he was: conflicted, more uncertain in his own choices than he let on, heartbroken and self-sabotaging.

when harry presents himself at the end of the play to albus, he presents himself as human— an escapist, unsure in his decisions, insecure, and scared of the dark, small spaces and pigeons. and albus appreciates the flawed, real version of harry. those expectations and ideals that albus struggled to uphold in the face of harry’s projecting simply disappear, and he finally feels like he can adequately be harry’s son just by being.

another less obvious moment that shows this, is how harry and delphi mirror each other. delphi is the more extreme version of this— she is completely deluded in her worship for a father she never knew, so desperate for the love and respect shes built up in her mind that she’s dedicated her life to it and feels empty without the ideal to go off of. its why harry defends her when albus asks him why they shouldn’t just kill her— because hes the only one who understands the pain of being an orphan, living in an abusive household, dreams of ‘what ifs’ and what it can do to a person.

whats important to take away is that harry and albus love each other immensely, which is why they are able to turn over a new leaf at the end. it speaks of incredible strength on albus’ half, and i really want to stress that albus LOVES harry, because i see so much content about him straight up butchering or slandering harry when that is sooo not them!! if albus saw the way some of yall were misinterpreting his relationship with his dad he’d be livid. whether or not you would do the same in forgiving harry is irrelevant— albus has always wanted to have a good relationship with harry and the same goes both ways. people hurt each other, sometimes egregiously so, but when one promises change and is serious about it, than chances are there will be change. this is especially so in the case of family.

ginny weasley vs age

what is paradoxical is how self-centred harry is, despite also being very willing to sacrifice himself for other people. albus possesses a self-centredness similar to him. harry is so caught up in his own world and comparing it to albus’ situation, and vice versa. ginny is normally the middle man who can see both harry and albus for what they are and the individual worlds they inhabit, and tries to communicate effectively between them. the play mostly revolves around harry and albus, so what i’ll have to say for her will not be as in-depth.

short answer: ginny matured with age. she is probably the most mature character alongside draco, although draco does let his emotions get in the way at times (funnily enough i think this is why ginny and draco get along so well in the cursed child and are able to recognise each other for who they are). she was very brash and courageous and wonderfully chaotic in the books, but she was also blunt and impatient, which is not something thats presented in the cursed child. instead, she is VERY patient and communicates extremely well, being able to navigate both harry and albus without prodding their weak spots like they do to each other.

she offers her own experiences to albus as her own experiences, not projecting them onto him as an unequivocal truth. this can be seen in how she opens up to him about how she was exploited by tom riddle, and she lets albus draw his own comparisons to himself and delphi without pushing his experiences into a box.

her relationship with harry is interesting, because she is the only one who sees him for him and the only one that harry’s not bothered by when she makes honest judgments on his actions. he’s only okay with her seeing him for the flawed man he is. she doesn’t make him feel defensive, nor does she make him feel demonised for not knowing how to parent albus, or for messing up with him (though she does call him out when he is in the wrong, something her younger self would be quick to do too). one of the most heart wrenching scenes is when ginny blows up at harry and really screams at him about albus being missing and him being self-centred about it, making it out to be about himself and his issues surrounding fatherhood. despite this, harry does not get defensive— which shows that he trusts even her negative judgments of him because she knows him so well (very very similar to the library scene with scorpius screaming at albus over his self-centeredness as well btw).

she still possesses key qualities from her younger self, she’s just ironed out the rougher ones as she’s grown— she’s still impossibly brave, fiercely loyal, extremely devoted to those she loves and also very logical. you can tell harry and albus are more emotional than she is, which is part of the reason why she is able to construct her points so effectively. she puts her logical thinking to good use in emotional situations. i think people are forgetting that people aren’t typically going to be the same as who they were as teenagers.

why has ginny been able to grow so much in comparison to harry? because she’s recognised what she went through as a teenager and made peace with it. you can see it in the way she freely offers her own experiences about it. she’s been able to build on top of what she went through in a healthy way, and was able to experience real, healthy change. and she is so much wiser and kinder for it.

hinny vs their careers

first i’ll talk about harry because i think i have more stuff to go off of with him.

we’ve already established that hes The Hero first and foremost. after he fulfilled the prophecy and saved the world i dont think its such a stretch to argue that he may have needed another similar purpose to latch onto, and that being an auror granted him that. quidditch was fun for him, but it couldn’t give him the same purchase that being an auror could. heroes dont play quidditch, they save the world. the same could be said for neville and ron, who were also aurors at first. was it the healthiest road to go down for harry? i dont think so, but considering his characterisation in the cursed child, i think it works. ron ended up quitting to be a father, neville ended up quitting to focus on his real passion (herbology), and harry continued to cling onto The Hero image he’s used to presenting. yes, the ministry was impossibly corrupt and worked against him in his youth, but to harry that could’ve served as more of a reason to change the institution from the inside. this, i imagine, was most definitely the case with hermione, who was always an idealist.

that being said, i don’t think continuing being an auror is such a great idea post-hpcc. he at least needs a break in order to continue his job in a healthy manner and not misconstrue his identity with it.

in terms of ginny, i don’t believe she’d still be playing quidditch in her 40s. if you think about real athletes, very few of them continue playing professionally in their 40s (i think the average age is 34 but i may be wrong), especially after birthing three kids. we dont know much about her retirement, but there are many reasons one can assume ginny retired for, kids and/or age being the most reasonable deduction. its not so much a question of characterisation but more about the reality of having to give up your passion earlier than most if its sports.

despite retiring, its clear ginny is still very passionate about quidditch as shes still working within the field, just not playing the sport professionally anymore.

[artisticgirl19]

Five Hargreeves and the expectations that comes with being the "favorite character".

S4 is the season that we got the most holes in the storyline, lack of explanation and even the erasure of existence of all Hargreeves, but definetly what shocked the audience the most was Five behaviour and his, until now, unknow tendencies of homewrecking.

I am not here to judge him, neither to defend, but to say what i have been seeing of the fans reactions and I got to say... Some of y'all claim to be his fans, but wish him a miserable life.

"BUT IT WAS SO OOC, S1 FIVE WOULD NEVER DO THIS!"

Yes, he would not, but a If there is something the show it's trying to show since s3 it's how tired Five it's from apocalypses, failed tentatives to save the world, having to save his siblings asses all the time, getting blamed about every bad thing that happend and never getting showed any appreciation with honorable exceptions of Klaus and Diego.

Five changed, pretty much like everyone, due to all his emotional baggage, which happens to be a bit bigger than the others cause of his age and the fact the his entire life was just chaos and loneliness.

The thing is, yes, Five would do anything for his family and that's what he has been doing for the last 45 years, even with little to no recognition. Unfortunately, all this loyalty placed him into a pedastal that it's dificult to keep up.

I even saw some people saying that "normal Five" would have gone to the train station by himself to not put anyone in danger. So that's what you want for him? To get stucked AGAIN completly alone for another 7 years of his life?

I saw people saying "How could he do that with Dolores?" Like, seriously? As much as i liked that whole mannequin- human romance, it's time for y'all to accept that Dolores is to Five what that volleyball ball was to Tom Hanks in Cast Away. Just a coping mechanism to not get crazy in a devasted world by himself, but that was not love.

You guys really think that his entire life it's suppost to just be there for his siblings and holding a mannequin when times get lonely, and that's it? How fucking depressing is that?

And not that being there for his siblings it's a bad thing, but then again, why it gotta be his responsability, always? Besides, when Will someone else be there for him too? I guess that's why he fell for Lila in that moment. She was febre for him as much as he was there for her.

And to be honest, a big part of me it's glad, that even for once, he decided to be selfish. For once he choose to allow himself to be in a calm and peaceful place not constantly worring about his siblings or the future of earth. He loved a real person and was loved back by them. He finally had the opportunity of trying to live as fully normal person, what he never had the chance before. It was a breath of fresh air that he deserved.

I know that Lila was definetly not the right person to have these amazing last moments with, but i am sure that If they had more seasons, they would come up with some new character to fill that up.

And even being Lila, It still made sense. In that moment, with that conection and after all they lived together, It still made all the sense.

The only thing that hurts me about this whole situation, it's that It literally costed his relationship with Diego and they stop existing without talking It out, cause there was no time for It (Steve Blackman, i hate you for this).

It's bittersweet, indeed, and just shows that he can't really have it all, but at least he got some moments of peace in this earth before getting ceased forever.

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