#its 'there's no other way but there's no one i'd rather do this'

[ohisms]

✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍'𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐄 . ( a collection of fantasy - based dialogue prompts . adjust phrasing as necessary . )

strangers don't last very long around here .

lay down your sword , and i'll lay down mine .

whatever you do , do not stray from the path .

try not to get yourself killed .

the magic here is old and wild .

quiet ... do not wake it .

i thought i'd find you here . get up .

the tavern in [ location ] is known for its ale and its rumors .

you are starting the path towards your destiny .

is there no end to this accursed forest ?

my sword is yours .

the path to redemption is paved with trials and tribulations .

this forest feels ... sick . as if a disease lies upon it .

you are nothing but damned bones , and a damned soul .

have you ever seen the world beyond [ location ] ?

in the face of overwhelming odds , we must stand united .

please don't let them know that i'm here .

i've heard tales of your exploits . impressive , if they're true .

there's a town three miles east from here .

we have such history , you and i .

go carefully ... there's a camp nearby .

you will not die here , i forbid it .

your reputation precedes you .

i would rather die on my feet than on my knees .

there is no destiny . no born heroes .

you've got a fire in your eyes . use it , but don't let it consume you .

the spirits of this forest are restless .

there's more that you aren't telling me .

you have something that belongs to me .

you shouldn't be here , it's not safe in these parts .

all we can trust are the blades in our hands .

do you believe in fate ? destiny , prophecies ...

i don't think i'll ever get used to having blood on my hands .

wait ! there's traps here . lots of them .

i would die before helping in such a task .

there's an inn just another mile north .

have your blade at the ready .

if you can't already tell , i don't require saving .

have you drank your fill already ?

this isn't just some lark to me .

i'm headed to [ location ] . i could use some company .

your bravery is admirable , but it will also be your undoing .

you're exhausted , [ name ] . we're stopping here .

i will hunt you until the day i die .

i wish you a safe journey home .

as long as i can be of no help , i'm going to hide .

raise your sword . this should be a fair fight .

you're brave to show your face here again .

in this world , you can trust two things ; your intuition and your sword .

i've seen the way you look at the horizon . you're searching for something .

[ administers a healing potion / spell ] is that any better ?

you have no idea of the catastrophe you've set in motion .

there's an ambush ahead , stay quiet .

i want to know your story ... beginning to end .

in the end , we're all just stories waiting to be told .

i've heard tales of a dragon living high up in the mountains . some say it's just a myth , others swear it's real .

the line between friend and foe is often blurred .

try to stay quiet . is the wound deep ?

do not provoke them .

monster ? who's the monster here ?

i forbid you from telling anyone what you've seen here .

are you scared of witches ?

that's a beautiful [ weapon ] . may i ?

you are a valuable ally and a fearsome adversary .

do not tell me you've grown soft over the years .

if our enemy has returned , we must know .

you're a tough one to read , but i can see the kindness in your eyes .

the key to survival is knowing when to fight and when to flee .

i never expected to run into you in [ location ] .

last we spoke , you owed me some coin .

do not fear me ... everybody else fears me .

there is no magic or medicine that can cure this .

you keep questionable company .

every choice has a consequence .

the fate of the world lies in your hands .

so you're the great [ name ] .

remorse will get you nowhere .

you must stay on the path . do not leave it . if you do , you'll never find it again .

i once dreamed of this place . it's real ?

some secrets are best left buried .

the bridge is heavily guarded . we need a plan .

i thought you were returning home .

i would not do this unless i had to .

i need my horse .

it's real . all of the stories , the legends ... and it's real .

don't lose your wit . i believe you'll have need for it yet .

[pomefioredove]

since my little dorm post has been getting a lot of notes(?!) I wanna explain why I feel I'd get sentenced I mean sorted into diasomnia ^^

the thing about twst dorms is that while there are superficial traits (ignihyde students being introverted, savanaclaw students being athletic, etc), those are more like stereotypes, and are not why you would be sorted into one of those dorms

the dark mirror reads your soul, not your hobbies. it's not a quotev quiz that'll ask you what your favorite color is. it's about you as a person: your values, beliefs, dreams, wants and needs, etc

like, epel felmier is a rough 'n tumble rural boy who swears and picks fights. but he belongs in pomefiore, because pomefiore isn't actually about looking pretty and doing fancy things, it's based on the fairest queen's tenacity. no, epel isn't proper or polite, but that's not what the dorm is about. he's a goal-oriented, determined, hard-working young man who embodies the spirit of persistence. that is why he's in pomefiore, and not savanaclaw or what have you

so when talking about diasomnia, I am never saying "oh, I think I'd be a really powerful mage" because that's not what the dorm is. that's just a stereotype. etc etc

(I feel like what we actually know about diasomnia itself is quite limited. at least compared to the other dorms. the thoughts I have of it could be completely non-canonical, but I have thoughts, nonetheless. so)

I said somewhere on this blog that I put a lot of value on things like politeness and civility and respect, and that I consider myself a polite person. I was raised to mind my manners and put aside my personal feelings for the sake of formality. I have never started a fight in my life, but I do get very upset when I feel as if I'm being disrespected. my family observes a lot of old traditions that are rather outdated

ex:

if you are invited to something but don't attend, you still send a gift

if you are invited to something, you invite the host to your future events

you always say thank you after receiving a gift

if you don't have anything nice to say, then you can complain about it at home. but you never, ever insult a host to their face. it's so uncouth and terrible it's like a deadly sin to me

things like that. lots of rules about hierarchy and respect. doing something disrespectful or impolite (especially without an apology) is enough to create schisms in my family. we hold grudges here

when I think of the thorn fairy's "nobility", this is the sort of thing that comes to mind. the high emphasis on the hierarchy of respect, on civility and graciousness. the value of tradition, and doing things the old-fashioned way (and the dislike, or fear, of change seems to be a common theme in diasomnia)

you could surely look at the things I just said and say, "well, you would also fit in at pomefiore" because, sure, I would! I can do the rules, I can respect the housewardens, but I lack the tenacity and the want to be something that makes the dorm what it is. diasomnia may have some similarities, but its reluctance to embrace change is what makes it so different

I, as a person, do not have dreams. most of my life has been spent just trying to get by whilst at the level of this hierarchy I was born into. I couldn't be in pomefiore because, unlike epel, I don't have big goals to work towards. I feel more comfortable being a follower than a leader, and I have a tendency of structuring my life around the lives of others rather than my hopes and dreams. I do not live boldly

and it doesn't bother me. I've found that there are benefits to staying in the shadows, and I'm comfortable with my socially nocturnal life

that is why I'm diasomnia, and not pomefiore

my favorite fairytale, which is not sleeping beauty, is very much about social structure. it's about a heroine's malicious compliance to that structure and how she manages to turn it in her favor

ironically, it also is about a spinning wheel

[colourofthekites]

so my post about going through George Rexstew's insta cause I was writing a fic was semi-popular so I'd thought I'd just post the fic here. It's under the cut

Payneland - First Dance (One Shot) - 1629 words

The dim light of the office barely illuminated the book Edwin Payne had spread across his lap. The text was old and faded and hard to read but nevertheless, Edwin's eyes scanned the pages on various supernatural beings that could liquify a person from the inside out. Charles, on the other hand, was leaning on the desk, gazing intently at him.

"I can tell you're staring at me, Charles". Edwin spoke, not looking up from his reference book. "Is there something you want to talk about?"

"Can't a lad look at his best mate?" Charles said, huffing slightly. Edwin turned to him and raised a single eyebrow. "Nah just thinking, it's end of year dance season isn't it?"

It was the beginnings of August, schools would be breaking up now for holidays and teenagers would be coupled up and compelled to sway awkwardly with one another. Charles never had that. It was a strange thing to miss something you never really had.

"I suppose so," Edwin muttered, closing his book and looking up at where Charles was leaning. "Is there a reason you brought it up?"

"I just..." Charles shuffled his feet slightly. He's known Edwin for over 30 years and yet still feels on edge when pinned by Edwin's green eyes. "...never had that. Would have been brills to actually dance with someone." Charles looked up at the ceiling, the paint was beginning to peel off.

"Well, if it's any consolation, I never had that experience either," Edwin sighed, drumming his fingers on the book cover "never had most of the high school experiences."

Charles let out a little laugh and then stood. He walked over to a small table in the corner, with a strange device plugged into a speaker system. When Crystal moved out of the office to get her own space, she left behind this thing for the boys, said if they need to liven the atmosphere. Edwin barely understood it, but Crystal taught Charles how to pick songs on there, finding ones he liked so he can play them. Charles flicked his finger across the screen, finding the right song to play. He tapped the button and the speaker buzzed into life, playing a soft string melody from its latticed front. Charles turned to look at Edwin, whose brow had furrowed with confusion.

"Come on then," Charles said, extending his hand out for Edwin to take it. "first time for everything". He smirked knowingly. Edwin wasn't one for romances or sappy moments but if anyone could get him to loosen up, it was his best mate.

Edwin rolled his eyes and sighed, "really Charles? don't be ridiculous". He tilted his head slightly, goading Charles to carry on with his silly gesture. Edwin didn't want to admit it, but he enjoys getting Charles to convince him.

Charles furrowed his own brow and pouted. He put on his best puppy dog eyes, the deepest and brownest of the them all. "Come on Edwin, please?" Edwin huffed again "for me?"

Edwin stood with his usual flair, legs swinging over one another as if he was a gymnast. "Fine, but only for you" Edwin took Charles's hand and let himself be pulled into an embrace, his hands placed carefully on Charles's shoulders, while Charles's own hands went to his waist.

They stood like that, swaying from side to side as the orchestral music raised high and low, as if it was swaying in its own right. Even though they are dead, Charles could feel the stiffness of Edwin's shirt under his fingers, the taut muscle of his waist as they danced together. Charles wasn't sure if it was tension or just the way Edwin's body was. Either way, it didn't matter. This was something silly for them to do rather than scan over cases. Charles couldn't meet Edwin's eyes, instead looking down at how their feet were moving next to one another's, shuffling slightly as to not bump into each other. It felt... perfect. Like their movements and individual selves were made to fit one another spaces.

Charles finally built up the courage to look at Edwin. His face was set. This was ridiculous but Charles could see the slightest twitch of a smirk playing on the corner of Edwin's lips. Charles struggled to stifle a laugh, and, as if by nature, Edwin was laughing too. Little sounds that, if their lungs still drew breath, would send ripples through the air.

"This is stupid!" Edwin chuckled, tipping his head forward into Charles's space. The music was building to a crescendo, and all the boys could do was laugh with one another.

"I know! But it's at least it's stupid with you" Charles shifted his arms to pull Edwin closer, pressing their chests together in an almighty hug. Edwin tensed, and then softened into it, wrapping his arms around Charles's shoulders and neck. Charles could feel Edwin's fingertips at the base of his hair. Just a slight tickle but it was enough to make Charles wish he could feel his heart beating again, feel Edwin's beating against his.

Edwin was still chuckling, the shakes of his laughter going through his body Charles could feel every bit of it. He manoeuvred his arms to wrap tighter around Edwin's waist, and one moved up his back. Even through his shirt, Charles could feel the bumps of Edwin's spine, pulling him closer and nestling in the space between Edwin's neck and his shoulders. Edwin sighed deeply, and Charles followed suit. Ever since Edwin escaped hell with Charles, Charles looked at him in a different, but beautiful way. His best mate, his fellow dead boy detective was in love with him and he couldn't say the same. He felt like he hand Edwin's heart in his hands and he couldn't hold it the way Edwin needed. Charles said he'd figure out what the rest means, and he meant it. This dance, this gentle sway in the dim light of their office was figuring it out

Edwin pulled back from the embrace, still settled in Charles's arms. He met Charles's soft brown eyes with a gaze that reminded Charles of the most comforting forest.

"Charles, I..." Edwin trailed off, he laughed again and shook his head. He looked back up at Charles. "Thank you."

"What for? don't tell me you want to start dancing with each other more, mate, cause I'm gonna be honest. I do feel like a bit of a dimwit"

"For being the only one who can get me dancing in the first place" Edwin said, head titling in a way that Charles could never tell was exasperation or intrigue.

"Oh please, Niko could get you dancing I bet!" Charles and Edwin laughed. They both loved Niko so much and they promised to remember her as she was, brilliantly herself.

"Granted," Edwin chuckled "but not like this. Not like how I am with you."

"Listen, if I can get you smiling and out of those books, that's brills to me". Charles beamed his wondrous smile, one that could softened the heart of any demon, not that he would be willing to try that. Charles's slipped his arm from Edwin's back to gently cup his face, thumb grazing over the sharp cheekbones under his pale skin. He glanced at Edwin's lips, slightly parted and back up to his eyes. He didn't know, but Edwin did the same.

It was an unspoken moment, an agreement of want that sprung between them and the air between their bodies. It wasn't forced, nor a desperate surge for something. They leaned in, their lips locked in the softest of kisses. There was no warmth, no wetness or breathiness but it was as if the world, and Death herself, stopped.

This was different to kissing Crystal; with her, there was a deep need and drive for each other. Kissing Edwin was soft, gentle, and kind; just like how Edwin was. Charles could feel Edwin's lips move around his, slipping into one another and the light tingle of a tongue. Their non-existent breath was mingling in their mouths as Charles rubbed Edwin's face. Edwin moved his hands into Charles's soft curls, feeling them slip and glide over his hands like water. Edwin pulled them closer, pressing their bodies together in what felt like a new form of passion, different from anything Charles had felt before. Charles had longed to be alive before, longed to feel the heat of another. But this longing felt so much more. Like the entire office suddenly got brighter.

Edwin pulled back, Charles attempted to chase his lips. "Don't stop," he thought "I need more of this. More of you". But Edwin was looking into his eyes.

Silence. The worst kind, the moment after something happened where you are never sure if what you just did was wonderful, or the biggest mistake of your (after)life. Charles hated that silence, it ate away at him. It must have only lasted for a second, but it felt like eternity.

At last, Edwin let out sigh with a wide smile, and pressed his forehead to Charles's. And it was then that Charles noticed. The music. They kissed for so long, that the orchestra they danced to had ended, and the room was filled with nothing but the background hum of the lights

They both laughed, pressing their foreheads together before Edwin leaned in and kissed Charles again. Edwin was more sure this time, pressing into Charles like a weight that was holding him back was finally lifted. They broke apart and embraced each other. Edwin tightened his wrap on Charles, and Charles squeezed him back.

"I'm glad my first dance was with you." Edwin whispered softly into Charles's shoulder.

"Me too," Charles whispered back, "me too"

[crazylittlejester]

i'd love to hear all your head canons on Warriors! and the others too if you have any. :)

i'm trying to get into writing fanfiction but its difficult when the canon version of Link is just "blank stare and sometimes arson" /j. Warriors is one of the Links i have the most difficulty with characterization lol (Legend, Hyrule, and Four or also giving me trouble /lh)

aight this is definitely gonna be so much more than you asked for but im not havin a great day and you asked about my special guy and gave me permission to yap about him, so here are a lot of headcanons + the way that I write/characterize him in my own fics! (my bad for spelling errors or if this is incoherent)

- I hc he came from a rather large family out in the country, so he had a lot of sisters growing up and a lot more space than the city but he moved to the city and has stayed there since he joined the army at 15/16

- I know most people hc all the Link’s parents are dead but NOT ME, Wars still has his mom, but he hasn’t been home since he left. I hc he hasn’t been able to bring himself to go home because he feels like the war changed him so much as a person that he won’t belong there and nothing will be the same, and that his family won’t take him back because they’re expecting the same kid who left and he just isnt that person anymore

- I will die on the hill that this man is a fake blond (and that he also straightens his hair). I hc he started dying his hair because he was so desperate to fit in and also to look like the other heroes because his image is incredibly important to him. A whole war was started over him because Cia wanted him, he feels like he needs to at least LOOK like that classic image of the hero. Tied in with this i think he has a lot of insecurity about himself and how he looks because he forces himself to look such a particular way and he’s created this character of himself and acts it out so thoroughly he’s forgotten who HE actually is

- This is a popular hc for him because in his game soldiers turn against him, and you have to fight them in game so a lot of people hc there have been assassination attempts against him and that these include poison. So I hc he has a very intense fear of food that sometimes prevents him from being able to eat all together because he can’t trust where it comes from. Some days he has to watch it be made, some days he has to make it himself, and rarely he just can’t do it. This is all based on my own food allergies and fear of cross contamination, and I also gave him a safe food: oranges! My thinking behind this is that when I get like this eating prepackaged foods are the most comforting to me because it makes me feel like it couldn’t have touched something I’m allergic to, and oranges have a peel which is just a barrier between them and the world. Can they still be poisoned? Absolutely, and Wars knows this, but he’s irrationally dependent on them because in his mind they’re safe because he NEEDS them to be, otherwise he just can’t eat. Like deep down he knows it’s stupid and they’re not guaranteed safe for him, but when he’s panicking he’ll grab those because he’s convinced himself they’re safe and he’s yet to be wrong

- Purely self indulgent hc but I also gave him my blood sugar issues, which is truly just an angst source for me because he’s caught in a trap of having an issue where he HAS to eat semi frequently or bad things will happen but his deep rooted fear of all his food being contaminated makes it really really hard for him to do so

- I hc he’s got a journal that has so so much in it that’s a mix between a diary, battle plans, history book in the making, sketchbook, and more. To me he’s got such a big big brain and a thirst for knowledge and he absorbs history like a SPONGE. He met all these people from other eras during the war and he learned so much about them and their cultures and times, and now he’s going through time to some of these places??? He’s writing that shit DOWN. He’s absolutely the first one to figure out where everyone is on the timeline. He also got used to observing soldiers during battle and noting their strengths and weaknesses so he could plan where to put them in battle and thats just somethin he cannot turn off, so he analyzes the chain and all his notes on them are in this book too. He TELLS them these things, with the intent to help them grow stronger, and he absolutely offers to help them work things out and because of this the group has really become a solid unit. Also the whole thing is written in his native language that NONE of the others can read (I hc he’s brazilian/scottish and his native language is the equivalent of portuguese)

- He’s a very touch oriented person, though the war and his trust issues kinda messed that up for him, but he IS getting better with it. He does much better if he’s the one initiating contact, and he’s definitely a shoulder to lean on for the others and his hugs are very nice

- I hc he HATES shit rubbing against his neck, which is one of the reasons why that scarf is so thoroughly pinned down

- I also hc he came from a family of tailors, so he’s definitely one of the people the chain goes to if they need sewing help

- He’s the one who gives the others haircuts, and he taught Wind how to properly care for his curly hair

- I hc he has temperature regulation issues because of the severe burn scarring Volga left him with, so he and Wild are ALWAYS the first two to overheat

i have more, i could talk about him for hours, but my brain is getting fuzzy so i’ll stop here for now lmao sorry for yapping so much 😭

[chronicowboy]

i'm never going to get over the pulling eddie out by his hand scene for a lot of reasons (shooting parallels, the way they grab each other, the hand holding of it all) but fuck. the look eddie gives buck just before he starts pulling, the unwavering trust in his eyes, knowing that this is going to hurt like a motherfucker but there's no one better to do it, buck whose hands have brought him back from death, buck whose arms have carried him to safety, buck who will always always have his back no matter what.

[criscura]

I want to get to the good part of this blastvoid thing I'm writing but i do NOT want to write the part before it and I'm procrastinating so fucking hard

Like i know what i want and it'll be satisfying but it's like the reverse of eating beef jerky, where this is the tough gross part you just need to swallow before getting to the fucking SPPIUCCE

[catgirl-catboy]

Hey, you! The LGBTQ+ person that gets uncomfortable by some popular fandom headcanons. You are valid. So long as you tag your wank and not harass fans that disagree with your headcanons, it is completely okay to hate/feel creeped out by a headcanon. You aren't being homophobic to not enjoy reading one specific character as one specific sexuality, even if the rest of the fandom absolutely disagrees with you.

[skitskatdacat63]

2005 Malaysian Grand Prix - Fernando Alonso(my personal post-race highlights)

[tardis--dreams]

Some of those doctors make hating oat milk their entire personality. I hate them. Cannot pretend to find them funny or like i give a shit. Fucking pretentious assholes

[seithr]

Randomly remembered the half-reason i call my oc-verse by the name it has while laying in bed. One-half of the reason i still knew, but I had forgotten what had truly, really cemented it jointly until now

(it was a song from my favourite band I haven't listened to in a while.)

(the song fit so well at the time, still does, that i needed to hold onto it for the main protagonists forever, by partially naming their story in reference.)

Does this explanation make any sense? Does anyone know why I'm tearing up remembering this. Aahh

[rubberbandballqueen]

since i just rb'd a poll abt high school grades now's probably a good time to drop one of my many million-dollar ideas for how to run a high school classroom, which is that i think that at the start of a quarter/semester kids should be asked if they want hw to count towards their grades or not bc i was So Fucking Bad at submitting hw in high school, but my test scores were really good, so i'd rather have not had hw count towards my grades. but obviously there are a good number of kids who are either bad at taking tests or anxious abt their grades dropping and are diligent abt turning in hw, so letting hw count towards their grades would give them some padding in that situation.

[othercrossee]

Will always be funny that all the diamond warden became iridas friend behind adamans back

[astrxealis]

damn i never thought i'd get into stardew valley this much but here we are !! makes perfect sense tho

[toastsnaffler]

well I didn't talk abt what I specifically wanted to talk abt bc I could tell I was starting to get upset just being very vague and general and I mentally started doubting myself n defending against it n chickened out. but I'm grateful she listened to me vent a little anyway I do appreciate it ik she has plenty of better things to do w her time 🥹

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

The thing with the Mari Lwyd, though, is that it's being... I don't know, 'appropriated' is the wrong word, but certainly turned into something it isn't.

Thing is, this is a folk tradition in the Welsh language, and that's the most important aspect of it. I feel partly responsible for this, because I accidentally became a bit of an expert on the topic of the Mari Lwyd in a post that escaped Tumblr containment, and I clearly didn't stress it strongly enough there (in my defence, I wrote that post for ten likes and some attention); but this is a Welsh language tradition, conducted in Welsh, using Welsh language poetic forms that are older than the entire English language, and also a very specific sung melody (with a very specific first verse; that's Cân y Fari). It is not actually a 'rap battle'. It's not a recited poem. It is not any old rhyme scheme however you want.

It is not in English.

Given the extensive and frankly ongoing attempts by England to wipe out Welsh, and its attendant cultural traditions, the Mari is being revived across Wales as an act of linguistic-cultural defiance. She's a symbol of Welsh language culture, specifically; an icon to remind that we are a distinct people, with our own culture and traditions, and in spite of everyone and everything, we're still here. Separating her from that by removing the Welsh is, to put it mildly, wildly disrespectful.

...but it IS what I'm increasingly seeing, both online and in real world Mari Lwyd festivals. She's gained enormous pop-culture popularity in recent years, which is fantastic; but she's also been reduced from the tradition to just an aesthetic now.

So many people are talking/drawing about her as though she's a cryptid or a mythological figure, rather than the folk practice of shoving a skull on a stick and pretending to be a naughty horse for cheese and drunken larks. And I get it! It's an intriguing visual! Some of the artwork is great! But this is not what she is. She's not a Krampus equivalent for your Dark Christmas aesthetic.

I see people writing their own version of the pwnco (though never called the pwnco; almost always called some variant on 'Mari Lwyd rap battle'), and as fun as these are, they are never even written in the meter and poetic rules of Cân y Fari, much less in Welsh, and they never conclude with the promise to behave before letting the Mari into the house. The pwnco is the central part to the tradition; this is the Welsh language part, the bit that's important and matters.

Mari Lwyd festivals are increasingly just English wassail festivals with a Mari or two present. The Swansea one last weekend didn't even include a Mari trying to break into a building (insert Shrek meme); there was no pwnco at all. Even in the Chepstow ones, they didn't do actual Cân y Fari; just a couple of recited verses. Instead, the Maris are just an aesthetic, a way to make it look a bit more Welsh, without having to commit to the unfashionable inconvenience of actually including Welsh.

And I don't really know what the answers are to these. I can tell you what I'd like - I'd like art to include the Welsh somewhere, maybe incorporating the first line of Cân y Fari like this one did, to keep it connected to the actual Welsh tradition (or other Welsh, if other phrases are preferred). I'd like people who want to write their version of the pwnco to respect the actual tradition of it by using Cân y Fari's meter and rhyme scheme, finishing with the promise to behave, and actually calling it the pwnco rather than a rap battle (and preferably in Welsh, though I do understand that's not always possible lol). I'd like to see the festivals actually observe the tradition, and include a link on the booking website to an audio clip of Cân y Fari and the words to the first verse, so attendees who want to can learn it ahead of time. I don't know how feasible any of that is, of course! But that's what I'd like to see.

I don't know. This is rambly. But it's something I've been thinking about - and increasingly nettled by - for a while. There's was something so affirming and wonderful at first about seeing the Mari's climb into international recognition, but it's very much turned to dismay by now, because she's important to my endangered culture and yet that's the part that everyone apparently wants to drop for being too awkward and ruining the aesthetic. It's very frustrating.

[feyascorner]

Okay perhaps this sounds odd but imagine Astarion starts to disassociate while intimate with Tav and so he uses their established safe word, only to be bewildered when Tav actually listens to him and stops and asks if he’s okay and tries to comfort him because nobody has cared that much before 😢

OH GODS WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME (i love it) warning for suggestive content :)

For as long as Astarion's been genuinely intimate with you, for no other reasons but simply because of the affection the two of you hold for one another, he has always been in control.

It soothes him, in a way, to be on top. And as much as he enjoys watching you come undone beneath him, there's a more frustrating reason behind why he always feels the need to be the one to push you down onto whatever surface he deems decent enough at the time. From above you, he can see every little twitch in your body, every shift in your expression, and most of all, he can control what's happening, unlike his centuries spent as a seductive tool for Cazador's own needs.

He knows you're not like those fools. He knows you're different, and you're special to him. But the gnawing voice in the back of his head always forces him to pull you in, to hold you closer, to make love to you.

It's fucked up in so many ways.

"I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel."

But when you look up at him with those imploring, loving eyes, the voice seems to go quiet. He swallows the dryness of his throat, unable to think of anything but how wonderful your touch feels on his skin, and he thinks he could drown in this forever. He's putty in your hands, whether he wants to admit it or not.

"Well? Don't be a tease just standing there, darling."

In what feels like minutes, he's a mess. He's making sounds he shouldn't be making, fingertips digging into your hips as if they're the anchors keeping him from finishing too early. He breathes heavily into the crook of your neck, groaning when you caress the sharp tip of his ear between your fingers.

The only thing keeping him from spilling is the impending embarrassment he'd feel for doing so this early on in the night.

Then, everything stops.

"You're so beautiful," you whisper.

They're only words. They're not ones he's heard little of---in fact, he's heard it too much in the past two hundred years. In an instant, memories of the nights he spent under strangers, forced to shove his mind into its darkest corners just to get through their own pleasures, flood his consciousness. The sickening taste in his mouth afterward, and the need to rub his skin till it goes raw were not uncommon. It was routine. A sick part of his life that he'd rather forget.

You don't mean it the same way they did. They only said things like that because that's all they could say. They didn't know him as anything but the husk of a body he resided in. He knows you are saying the words to him. Not to his body but to the very person he is.

But the word comes spilling out his mouth, and immediately, you freeze.

You actually stopped.

Of course, you would. You're you.

"Are you okay? Did I do something?" you reach to cup either of his cheeks, and he stares at you as if you're a star that's fallen from the sky. He blinks, slowly.

"I don't know, I just---" he searches for words. "--you haven't done anything wrong, darling."

You wait for him to finish patiently. Gods, he doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve you.

"I only remembered something I'd rather not," he plasters a crooked grin on his face. "It's quite alright. We can continue now if I haven't ruined the mood."

You pull away from him, and he fears you'll leave.

Moments later, you return with a glass of water. Wordlessly, you hand it to him, and he only stares at it, confused beyond belief. Only once he notices the way you gesture to the glass does he drink it, and you finally climb back into bed, lying down beside him.

"Come here," you open your arm, motioning him to come closer.

"Darling, as much as I'm all for experimenting, that's a strange position to have sex in."

You smile, shaking your head. You don't explain any further, only continuing to hold out your arm.

Hesitant though curious, he slowly lies down beside you, his head just above your chest and slotted between the space below your chin. With gentle hands, you pull him closer and toss the blanket over both of your bodies.

It's warm. Strange, but warm.

"You don't have to wear a mask with me," you whisper.

His eyes grow wide, and his chest stills. He doesn't have many tears left after 239 years, but there's an unfamiliar squeeze in his chest that tells him if he were still 39 and alive, he might have. Astarion wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face into where he can hear the steady beating of your heart.

Later, when your eyes begin to droop, he mumbles.

"Tell me I'm beautiful again."

"You're beautiful," you say softly. "With or without your pretty face."

You might be imagining it, but you feel him smile against your skin.