#rather be alone than feel inadequate

[iwantmygun]

I’m done trying to start new romanticships with people. I truly don’t think I know how to properly socialize with people I’m trying to flirt with and I’m fucking done lol. Time to nut up and die alone.

[tarotenchantress]

Astro observations ptIV "am i stupid?" edition🧠

DO NOT PLAGIARISE MY WORK🚫

All these observation are my personal observations

Tw: brief mention of physical abuse

BY- tarorenchantress🧚🏻‍♀️

I made this post cause i toooooo, have been mocked for my intelligence alot. Alot of times.

Hello guyssss!!!! im back with another edition. In this one were gonna discuss the placements that may indicate that you underestimate you intelligence, or others do or others have called you stupid or mocked your intelligence or simply underestimated.

🧠 saturn in 3rd house, 9th house, aspecting mercury, in the houses of gemini, sag, in the degrees 3°,15°,27°.

[Saturn restricts and here's the thing, 3rd house governs your early childhood and learning imo. It also governs your schools and neighbours whilst on the other hand, 9th house governs travelling and higher education alongside your higher mind and religeon and faith and mercury needless to say determines your intellect and mind. Saturn rewards but creates a harsh environment and also and it also rules discipline. This placement indicates that you may have felt that you always had to work harder than your peers to achieve the same as them. It may akso indicate that no matter what you may have always felt inadequate and average at best. It may also indicate that authority figures may have been harsher with you or may have doubted your intelligence and neglected you or they may have been more attentive towards you than other students as they may not have alot of confidence in you. You may also see your peers travel before you but you may not even know the basics of travelling or may feel very stupid when it comes to how to travel alone and may have started travelling later than your peers. You may learnt hings later than your peers or they may have learnt alot of things before you . Like bitchhh i have saturn in 9th house right and heres the thing, i felt so stupid whenever i would travel with my friends cause they all could do it like booking the cab, going on solo trips with friends but i couldnt do that and hate travelling alone too. Like i would rather die than actually travel alone even though it intrigues me. 9th house also governs foreign travel snd i always wanted to go to abroad to study pyschology but not only did i never go abroad i alsooooo did not get to choose psychology and instead my parents made me choose law. Also indicates that you may have started speakinglater than your peers as saturn also delayss ]

🧠 asteroid nessus in 3rd house, 9th house, aspecting mercury, aspecting 3rd house, 9th house, in the degree of 3°,15°,27°

[I have nessus in 3rd house and growing up, i always felt neglected by my peers, by my teachers, my parents would mock me, call me names because i struggled to understand maths, i even got beat with a belt by my dad because i couldnt understand conversion in metric system and inches and geometry as well. Basically all of maths. I would avoid studying like it was a plague. I was also constantly compared with other students by my parents and would feel extremely insecure of other people scoring well. I also had horrible self esteem and wouldnt answer as i feared being mocked and the one time i did answer,the teacher looked at me and told me that it waas wrong snd then called me near the white board and made me solve it and i struggled too and my hands were shaking and everyone laughed at me😀like????? Bitch?????😀 oneof my classmates even called me weird so ig??? Fuck you too bitch, you were weird too😀

Nessus is where you are abused and picked on and how you do it to others

It may also indicate being compared to your sibling or the children you study with or the neighbourhood children.

It got better in highschool but bitch please. Never again.

Similar effects can be seen with 9th house as it also governs college and travelling, religeon and law. Like you may feel like you are dumb when it comes to travelling. Like you may not even know how to book tickets or do basic shit for travelling. It may also indicate that you may have a fear of travelling eventhough you see your peers do it. Alsoo, relegious study or things that require faith may make you feel stupid. ]

🧠chiron in 3rd house, 9th house, in the degrees of 3°,15°,27°, aspecting mercury, aspecting3rd house, 9th house in gemini, sag.

[I have mercury conjunct chiron and i was constantly attacked for my intelligence. Like people would just call me dumb esp my tuition teachers]

🧠 mercury or sun in pisces, cancer, aquarius, capricorn, mercury making negative aspects with saturn, pluto, nessus, 4th house, 12th house, aspe ting 12th house too.

[If you have any of these placements, you may have noticed that people tried to gaslight you or question your memory or you learnt things slowly or people did not understand your mind or you may have felt misunderstood by them and mocked. May indicate someone who was soft spoken, or considered weird esp pisces and aqua, someone who had issues taking a stand for themselves. Aqua mercs could have exerienced being mocked by their friends. These placements may also daydream alot as a form of escapism.

Like, i remember this guy i was studying with, he once said that his tuition teacher considered him stupid cause he "looked" like he did not understand anything and he would also ask the this guy if actually understood anything 💀 and he was the topper of grade for 6 consecutive years btww. Je was a pisces sun Oh most of the people i know who were extremely creative have these placements]

🧠 neptune aspecting mercury, neptune in 3rd house, 9th house, in the gemini degrees 4°,15°,27° , neptune aspecting sun, ascendant, mc, aspecting the 3rd house, 9th house, even 10th house

[Neptune tends to create confusion and haze in whatever area it is present. People with this placement may xonstantly feel as if they dont understand whatever theyre reading or learning, may have been "invisible" in school, may have been average in school, good with creative works and imagination, people may not have afixed perception about you or may be veryconfused about you. Your teachers or parents may feel very confused about you understanding the concepts, some may even say you "look" stupid.

Like i have neptune aspecting my sun and ascendant and i had my teachers say i look blank and lost. I also got the title of the "quiet one" in 8th grade cause i was too soft spoken and rarely opened my mouth]

🧠pluto aspecting 3rd house, 9th house, mercury, degrees of gem 3°,15°,27°, in gemini in sag, in 3rd house, in 9th house.

I have mercury conjunct pluto and i always had people attack my intelligence by calling me names as a "joke"

[andrastepls]

A/SMR.

synop: reader lost her hearing after an explosion, simon has an idea to help her ‘hear’ him again

warnings: none i think ? canon typical violence & loss of hearing maybe knda spicy

not proofread we die like men

Adjusting to life without sound had been a trial on its own. It was something no-one really prepared for — silly as it seemed, now. Bombs and guns going off right next to a person for any amount of time was bound to cause damage at one point or another. Or, maybe, she just had shit luck.

The blast had come and gone so quickly, she had no time to react. No one did. It missed anything vital, but it had sent her rocketing into a wall; promptly breaking her arm, a few ribs, and rupturing her eardrums all in one fell swoop. If nothing else, recovery went relatively smoothly. As smoothly as it could have, at any rate, what with Soap and Gaz being absolutely glued to the chairs in the infirmary. Even getting kicked out a few times — luckily, Price and the Lt. were a little less chaotic. Be it because the medic on-site had a soft spot, or because Simon had intimidated the poor guy, he had been allowed to spend the first two nights in the infirm with her.

Being tucked away in his arms did wonders for her anxiety, but the cot was a bit small for him alone, let alone the pair of them. Blessedly, she had been given the okay to return to her own quarters after that.

A few months later, and her bones were good and well healed, but her ears were another story. The specialist kind. The off-duty kind. The waitlist was long, and going home, alone, in the quiet, sounded like her own personal hell. So, she stayed on base to wait it out.

The silence was her enemy, deafening in its lack of any and everything. She swore she could forget the music the world made in a moment without it. It was cold, void and lonely. Missing out on jokes, not ever hearing the booming shouts and laughter of the boys. Sounds she never thought she’d miss.

It didn’t go unnoticed. For all his grumbling and brooding, Ghost was terribly good at being good company. She was thankful for him, at least. Perhaps now more than ever. He was . . . oddly tentative of her. Making a point to brush a hand against her when he was near, what was previously a hovering palm near her back was now an open-handed reminder someone was there.

He made learning to sign feel so much easier. Subbing out some signs for military signals. A natural transition, when the other person knew how to speak it — even when he didn’t need to.

It was a kindness done solely for her benefit; a fact in which he would never admit, but she knew it to be true nevertheless.

• • •

She felt out of practice. Clumsy and uncertain of herself when he touched her, nothing like herself, and he noticed. He pulls back from her, hands curving through the space between their chests to say, “You okay?”

She swallows, looking away. Embarrassment flushes her cheeks a shade of maroon, the heat of it crawling up her neck.

“It’s not you.” she signs back after a beat, eyes finding his with nothing short of pleading in her irises, “I miss you. But the sound - ”

Lithe hands flop into her lap. She feels . . . inadequate. Incomplete. Hateful, to herself, knowing that she can’t be who he loved first anymore, “I miss hearing you.” it was a cruel thing for the universe to do to her; give her a man to fall in love with, a voice that lulled her to sleep, filled her heart, tightened her legs — and then take it away from her. Leaving her in this muffled prison.

He makes a face at that - not one of ill intent or anything of the sort - rather, one of confusion. She missed hearing him?

He never thought his voice to be something worth missing; though, he quickly understands when his mind wonders what never hearing her again would be like. His girl is quieter now, to be sure. But he can still hear her - the little noises she makes, when she hums to herself without noticing . . . among other noises . . .

There’s a moment where he stays still, only his eyes moving between the two. She’s about to lift her hands so say something else, but he promptly cuts her off by taking one of her wrists between his fingers. Encouraging her to open her hand and bringing her palm up to rest around his throat.

She pauses, wide eyes blinking between their hands and his face — that frustrating little smirk of his curling his lips upward at the corners. She can’t make sense of what he’s doing at first, canting her head to the side like a confused dog, and then, he hums. The sound vibrating against her fingers. Her jaws drops open slightly in shock, eyes locked between her hand and his mouth, wanting to say ‘again’.

Alas, he was a step ahead of her, and mumbles out her name in a breath. Feeling her name in his throat before reading it on his lips.

Hm.

A/N: i dont know its 1am !!

[macabr3-barbi3]

DoubleTrouble No 1 🖤❤️

Myself and the delightful and talented @fraugwinska have been working on something tasty and present to you: a DoubleTrouble fic!

A single prompt from my Ao3, shared between two writers, one POV each ❤️

I tackled the reader's perspective, and you can find one from Alastor's POV right here! So many thanks for FrauGwinska for being an absolute superstar and working with me through this new and exciting experience <3

We hope you enjoy!

Tags: period sex, cunnilingus, mentions of blood (obviously), rough sex <3

Minors DNI🔞

The Blood is Rare 🩸

The fact that you still had a period in Hell was bullshit, but you suppose they needed to give people something to be miserable about. That was probably why people ended up in the situation you were in now, seated across from Alastor with a deal on the tip of your tongue; sheer desperation, because somehow the cramps were even worse than they had been on Earth and the only thing that helped was a good old fashioned orgasm. If it were anyone else you wouldn’t even consider asking- a lot of demons, except the really-weird-even-for-Hell ones, were still squeamish about blood being involved with any kind of orgasm.

If you were right though. Alastor would relish the opportunity you were about to present to him.

Fresh to the hotel just a few days after your last Hellish period, Alastor had startled you in the kitchen with a knife in your hand. The resulting jump had caused the blade to slip, gash in your thumb bleeding steadily over the apples that you had planned to fry up. Rather than allowing you to fetch a bandage, Alastor had chuckled, said “no need, dear,” and popped your thumb into his mouth. It was probably some ploy of his- strike fear into the hearts of new residents, give them a reminder that he was a cannibal and that he wouldn’t hesitate to eat them if they stepped out of line or caused any issues.

It backfired on him. At the taste of your blood his eyes grew black, staggering away from you with the shock of it, antlers extending so quickly they smashed the glass front of a nearby cabinet and he ended up trapped between the wooden dividers.

“More,” he had snarled, but his antlers stuck in the cabinet had been enough of a delay for you to make an escape. 

He apologized, of course, a couple days later, explained his nature as a cannibal, a predator, had reacted before his mind, and that such a thing would not happen again. He had ended the awkward conversation with a statement of, “should you feel the desire to spare some of that tasty treat in your veins, do be a dear and let me know!”

And, well. Here you were. Letting him know. Ready to make a deal with one of the most powerful Overlords in Hell to get a little relief from the torture chamber that was your body in ovulation, even when there was nothing to fucking ovulate.

Alastor was tense when he phased into the hotel conference room to meet you as you had asked. His spine is stiff when he settles into the chair across from you, not having been alone in a space since that time in the kitchen. “What is it that I can help you with, my dear?”

“I want to clarify something- do you want to like, eat me?”

“Oh!” Alastor’s eyes widen with his smile. “I wouldn’t have been so blunt about it, darling, but if you’re asking- yes. That little taste that I had a few weeks ago was… inadequate, to say the least. But naturally staying here at the Hotel, Charlie would have been terribly upset had I consumed you.” He flicks his gaze over your form. “Why do you ask? Surely you don’t mean to let me indulge.”

A deep breath as you brace yourself. “Hah, not exactly. But uh, I do have a proposition of sorts for you. In regards to that. Kind of.”

He fades out of sight, rematerializing a couple seats closer to you. “Color me intrigued! What do you have in mind?”

You almost call the whole thing off- then a monster bolt of pain rips through your abdomen, nearly forcing you to double over the table with the ache of it. Any thought of embarrassment or hesitation flies from your head. Alastor is the only one that would be willing to help you in this way, you’re sure of it.

The groan of pain escapes you before you can stop it, and his eyebrows raise. “I have a deal to offer you that would allow you to- um. Sample my blood, if you’re amenable. Once a month.”

His head cocks to the side before his expression clears and he understands what you’re implying. “You’re referring to menstruation?” You nod, face red. “I see. Please provide me with more details of what this proposal would entail on my end then.” His claws are digging into the table, wood splintering beneath them and betraying his interest before even hearing what he would have to do.

“Right. I don’t know if you’re aware or not but periods can be crazy painful. Just on Earth too, but down here they’re basically unbearable when the cramps get bad. One thing that can help is having an orgasm.” You’re trying to resist the urge to hide in some way. You know this is what needs to be done. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, of course- just, you know. Uh, collecting on your benefit would probably do the trick.”

His eyes narrow. “I see. That is the… service I’m to provide, then?” A nod, flushed face dropped into your hands. “Well, I suppose I will simply have to endeavor to do my best! I’m never one to turn down a challenge- certainly not when the payoff is so enticing.” His eyes go dark, not quite black yet but the air between you changes, antlers going long and jagged. “I’m open to your proposal.”

“I need terms,” you breathe out, pleased that he’s still willing to help with the sexual nature of your request. “I need- just, something confirming that you won’t actually eat me for real. The blood is all that I’m willing to part with- no flesh.”

He sighs, eyes rolling. “Less exciting,” he says with a wave of his hand, “but not a dealbreaker. Anything else?”

“Only once a month- during this time. You can’t just be making me bleed whenever you want.”

“Done.” He’s in the chair next to you then, eyes black, grin so wide it threatens to split his face open, clawed hand held in your direction. “Do we have a deal?”

You take his hand in yours, green light filling the space between you and a screeching feedback sound assaulting your ears. When it fades Alastor is watching with hooded eyes. “Would you like to begin now?”

“Oh God. Uh, if now is a good time for you I guess. If you want to do it now.”

He laughs low and dangerous, his tall frame rising from the chair to tower over you. “Darling, I’ve wanted some semblance of what you’ve proposed for weeks. I’m not a man that makes a habit of denying himself a treat when it’s offered to him so sweetly.”

Your hand is still in his, and there’s a strange pull behind your navel as Alastor yanks you into the shadows with him, rematerializing in his bedroom. “Feel free to sit on the bed,” he offers, gesturing to the mattress and manifesting a large dark towel. “Or lie back- however will be more comfortable for you.” 

He releases your hand once you’ve sat, and you stay upright as Alastor sinks to his knees in front of you, fingers coming to the top of your skirt and pulling everything down in one fell swoop, his expression darkening at the scent of you exposed before him before ducking his head. You can’t see what he sees with how close he has already come to your skin, his enlarged antlers blocking your vision, the muscles of his back flexing with the force of his inhale as he breathes you in. A jolt of pain hits you again, deep in your core, and your whimper at the feeling has him bringing his eyes back to your face.

His eyes are hooded and dangerous, feral smile on his face while your fingers dig into the bedsheets. “Feel free to hold on, dear,” he says with a gesture to his antlers, before dipping his head to your bare cunt and slicking his tongue between your folds, angling his head just so to slip into your heat.

You can almost forget that Alastor is only doing this to satisfy some carnal desire of his with the fervent way that he pushes his mouth against you, slick muscle delving deep into you and brushing his nose against the firm nub of your clit. There’s a reverberating rumble as he moans at the taste, clawed fingers coming up to grip at your thighs, spreading them wider so he can get even closer to the source of his obsession. You can feel where he flicks his tongue inside you, brushing against that sweet bundle of nerves with every strong push and pull. The pleasure curls in your gut, keeping the worst of the cramps at bay while your body tenses and releases in rhythm with the demon’s ministrations. Every so often he pulls out, brings what he’s collected back into the haven of his mouth and savors it, eyes closed and his throat rumbling with a satisfied groan.

“You’ve no idea,” he growls, “how I’ve thought of tasting you. Consuming you.” The sharp points of his teeth brush against your clit and your body jolts, hands finally flying up from the bed to clutch at his antlers, grip tight on the tines of them as he looks up at you. 

The look on his face is nearly your undoing- more animal than man, and his claws dig into your flesh, tiny pinpricks of pain dragging you forcibly back to the moment. Your orgasm is just out of reach, not enough focus where you need him but you don’t want him to feel uncomfortable if you ask him for more.

“Fucking divine,” he whispers against you, and when his tongue brushes your sensitive clit with the words you shudder, the motion drawing his gaze to your face, flushed and hot. He smiles wide, expression smug as he leans in and does it purposely this time, licking up your folds and finally focusing where you need him to be. He circles it with purpose, pressure so sweet and sadistic, a light suck making you cry out his name and fist your hands on his antlers.

“Fuck! Alastor, yes, there- oh god, please, more…” He tenses under your hands and you worry for a moment that you’ve done something wrong. Then he’d sliding his hands under your thighs and dragging you closer to the edge of the bed, draping your legs over his shoulders.

“Say it again,” he murmurs, the vibrations of his voice sending heat flooding through you, overriding the painful ache of a cramp that tries to make itself known.

“Alastor,” you moan, and his tongue resumes its residence in the tight grip of your cunt, a hand coming up to brush a clawed finger over your clit. He works you quickly, his efforts paying off as your body tenses, invisible string inside you drawing tight and snapping with a force you’ve never felt before. “Alastor- A-” You try to say his name again, hear it come out as as a choked off whimper and a near scream as you reach orgasm, legs tightening on his shoulders and pulling him as closer, your walls clenching down on the length of his tongue before be pulls back and licks you through the remainder of it.

You release your grip on his antlers and fall back against the mattress, eyes closed while Alastor removes his face from between your legs, licking along the tiny pinpricks of blood from his claws before you shoot him a halfhearted glare. 

Your abdomen is blissfully absent of any clenching of your internal organs seeking revenge. Sated, you sit up from the mattress to see Alastor still knelt before you, faint lines of dried blood- your dried blood, your brain supplies- around his mouth. He looks like a predator fresh from his kill of the night, antlers jagged and long, eyes still dark and frantic as he looks at you.

“Was that sufficient, darling?”

“God, yes, it was perfect. I- I really appreciate your help.”

“Hmm. Of course. Though I must admit, only part of my… appetite for you has been appeased.” He rises from the floor, knees perched on either side of your thighs now and leaning in. You can smell something metallic on him as he approaches, know that it's your own blood as he stares down into your eyes hovered over you.

“Oh?” You become aware of a hard length pressing into your thigh. “Oh! I didn’t think that was something you would be interested in.”

He shrugs, rolling his hips and hissing at the friction. “Nor did I, dear. That does seem to be a theme with you, though- having a taste and finding that I crave more against my better judgment, against all reason.” He places a hand on your hip and runs his claws along the bare skin. “Would you allow me to help ease your pain once more?”

“God, yes,” you breathe out, “please, Alastor.” He takes a moment to undress, trousers removed along with his boxers before he climbs back over you and presses against the still slick folds of your cunt. He pushes in, hot and hard length opening you up and settling deep inside of you with a harsh exhale of breath against your neck. “Fuck, it’s so good.”

Alastor growls, the sound reverberating through his chest as he thrusts into you. A pulse of arousal shoots through you, the thought of bringing such a well spoken man to his baser instincts, so thoroughly invested in you that he can do little more than snarl like an animal into your skin, pushing you ever closer to the edge again. You’re already soft and sensitive from your first release, the cresting wave of a second hustling towards you. 

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, sharp teeth nipping at the tendon he finds there and moaning. “I could devour you,” he whispers, and you feel yourself clench down on him at the broken crack in his voice.  He drags his tongue up the length of your neck, hesitates like he’s trying to savor it. “I could feast on you for centuries and never tire of the taste of your flesh, whether coated in blood or sweat.”

A whimper escapes you as he sucks on the skin of your shoulder, leaving a trail of harsh bruises along the path he takes. A hand comes up to twist into his hair, something to ground yourself, to draw this out as long as possible. Your other hand digs into the flesh of his arm pinning you to the mattress. “Fuck, more, please,” you beg him, and he pulls back from your neck to watch your face twist and contort in pleasure while he slams against the sweet spot inside of you.

“Say my name,” he demands, fingers on your hip digging bruises into the soft skin, his other hand tangled in the bedsheets, tearing them to shreds to avoid sinking his claws into you. “Say it. Tell me what you need.”

“Oh God, Alastor-” You angle your hips, the movement bringing him even deeper into your body, the length of him so sweet and sinfully delicious that a whine escapes your throat before you can think to stop it. “I need- I don’t know, Al, I can’t-”

“You must,” he commands, and he lets go of your hip to slip his hand between your bodies, fingers pressing against the taut skin of your opening where your bodies are joined. The stimulation is foreign and new and has your walls tensing and releasing rhythmically around him, release so close now that you were seeing stars behind your clenched eyes.

“Look at me.” Your lids fly open to meet the sight of Alastor above you, his face contorted in something like pain. “You must,” he says again, fucking into you with vigor now, sweat beading on his forehead. “I need it around me, I have to feel it. Please, darling, give it to me-”

Fuck. How could you deny him when he asked so sweetly? Not that you had any control over it- your body breaks beneath him, cunt wrapped around him like the softest of silk and tightening its grip. Your limbs seem to go numb for a moment, pleasure warping your reality for a few blissful moments, your vision focusing in a tunnel on Alastor’s face before it vanishes, burying once again in the space between your shoulder and neck.

With a final cry of his name he sinks his teeth into you, not tearing back as one might expect but content to simply let them rest there as he spills into you with a broken moan, hips bucking hard and fierce and then easing into something softer as your walls pull and push, wringing every drop from him.

A breath of silence as you both catch your breath, interrupted by a hiss of faint pain as Alastor pulls his teeth from you and licks at the wound he’s created like a satisfied cat. “You promised you wouldn’t try to eat me for real,” you mutter, voice soft from the strength of your cries.

Alastor hums against you, tongue still moving against you. “Hardly my fault.” He’s mouthing greedily at your skin, claws traipsing on the flesh of your hips and roaming wherever he can reach. “You’re delicious,” he groans, taking one final taste of your blood before pulling back and collapsing next to you, “a delicacy. How am I meant to live without this at every moment of the day? I think I shall starve.”

You huff out a laugh, stretching your muscles as well as you can without really moving. “Don’t be dramatic. You get it once a month, at least.” You roll onto your side, ignore the feeling of something slick and wet between your thighs and focus on the fact that your body is limp and pliant and not seeking revenge on you. 

“You raise a valid point, my dear.” He throws you a sideways look, his antlers now having returned to their normal size and his ears relaxed against his skull. “Though I’m not at all opposed to repeating this aspect of the experience outside of your… monthly allowance to me. Deals always have room for negotiation, do they not?”

“Let’s get through this one first and then we’ll talk.” You yawn and try to rise from the bed, but an arm from the demon beside you is thrown haphazardly over your waist, pinning you in place.

“Stay,” he says, his eyes lidded and peeking at you. “There’s more to come yet, right? May as well stay where we can easily access one another for the duration.” His crimson eyes close the rest of the way and you settle back into the mattress, allowing your body to relax and slip into a peaceful sleep beside him.

[infiniteimaginings]

You’re so Pretty (Klaus Baudelaire x GN!Reader)

Summary: With a peaceful and quiet moment of studying with Klaus, you notice some features on him that you admire. So, you tell him. Pronouns: You/Yours Warnings: Fluff Word Count: 1.2k A/N: This was requested but Tumblr ate the request </3, this one is short and sweet, in my opinion anyways.

Quiet moments are extremely rare in the Baudelaire children's case ever since their parents died. They were constantly on the run, fighting away from Count Olaf and his group of associates, wondering who they could trust and who they couldn’t.

They finally had some sort of quiet at Prufrock Preparatory School, a gloomy boarding school that they were sent to since there were no other guardians to watch over them. They could ignore the nasty comments from Carmelita, the short and pink covered girl who had made it her mission to make everyone feel inadequate to her. They could ignore them because at this school they at least had multiple people defending them and sticking by their sides. Those people were Duncan Quagmire, Isadora Quagmire, and you.

Isadora and Duncan were currently pretending to be Violet, Klaus, and Sunny Baudelaire (a sack of flour) for gym class so the two eldest could study, Sunny staying with her siblings. Since there were only three Baudelaire siblings, you went with them to study instead of going with the Quagmires.

Violet had taken Sunny to the library, expressing a need for some English textbooks that were closer to date than the dust covered and ripped pages of the ones she was provided by her teacher earlier that day. Sunny babbled her preference for a change of scenery, something different than the orphan shack they had been shoved into.

Klaus had stayed in the leaky orphan shack, he had all he needed to study. You would have followed Violet to give him a bit of peace but he grasped your wrist gently, asking you to stay so he wouldn’t be alone. You nodded and returned to your seat, asking him a few pop quiz questions to which he answered correctly with no hesitation.

There was a comfortable silence between the two of you. Sounds of pages flipping, pencil scribbling on paper, and the occasional shift in the seat had filled the room. Klaus had been muttering a few facts under his breath as he tried to connect them to the almost useless textbook in front of him.

Your gaze had shifted up from your writings, landing on Klaus’s concentrated expression. A small smile grazed your features before you looked back down, eyes flickering up once more then right back down. You hummed a bit, inhaling a quiet breath, “You’re so pretty Klaus.” You spoke into the room, not even looking up to see his reaction.

It was a simple comment, small compliment. You weren’t embarrassed or nervous to say it, the words actually spilled from your lips rather easily. That’s why you just went back to your work, jotting a few notes, skimming the book. Silence had enveloped the two of you once more and you didn’t mind it, it was a simple comment.

You looked back up to see what page Klaus was on and he was looking right at you, your reflection slightly in his glasses. His face was filled with shock? Confusion? A small blush had formed on his face, so wide that it went from his cheek and inflamed his ears. His eyes were slightly wide, the light from the makeshift light source that Violet made was glossing over them. His mouth was only slightly open, he wasn’t gaping like a fish, but he did look like he was trying to find words. All that came out was a quiet, “What?”

You had blinked at him, already forgetting what you had said until it filled your mind once more. You shrugged, “I said you’re pretty.” You repeated, now making eye contact with him, studies long forgotten. He furrowed his brows, putting his pencil down, “What prompted you to say that?” He asked you.

No one had ever called him…pretty before, so it felt foreign for him to hear it. He hadn’t been doing anything that could gain a compliment of such from anyone, nonetheless you.

You thought about it, tilting your head with a twist of your face as you thought. “Nothing necessarily,” You began, now softening your expression, arms crossing to lay on the table in front of you, “I just looked up and wanted to tell you.” You told him simply, shrugging once more. Klaus pursed his lips, deeply sighing, “You think that I'm…”

“Pretty.”

“Why?”

“Why?” You asked with a raised brow, unsure of what to make of the question.

He nodded, hands now messing with his glasses, “Yes, I did ask why.” He spoke, slightly avoiding your gaze.

You puffed air into your cheeks, shifting your arms on the table for a more comfortable position. You chuckled a bit, “Um, well.” You began, not expecting him to ask such a question. You found his gaze once more, his more hesitant than yours. Your eyes were gentle, welcoming, and kind. “Your glasses are big and they frame your face kind of awkwardly,” You observed to which he shifted and adjusted them, “and it's cute when you have to adjust them.” You giggled out when he did just that.

He had realized he had been caught doing exactly what you described, he playfully rolled his eyes, “Okay, I do not-”

“But they make it easier to see the shine in your eyes.” You interrupted him, the comment caused him to look at you surprised. You cleared your throat, “Your eyes are brown but it's like gold is glittered over them.” You explained, your words met with silence so you decided to continue. You took a deep breath, “You have freckles and they’re prominent when you’re focused.” You continued on, eyes unintentionally scanning over his face where his freckles stare back at you. You turned to face him completely instead of it just being your head, biting the inside of your cheek. “When moonlight or sunlight hits you” You spoke quietly, your own eyes shining, “you kind of glow.” You informed him.

You remembered every time the two of you were outside together, how the sun would shine on him, making him look like some sort of scene from a book. When you walked back to the shack at night, the moon high and bright, his skin would glow like it was absorbing the light, an ethereal look he seemed to never notice about himself.

Klaus listened to your words carefully, following every phrase until you were silent, eyes glistening as they looked into his. It was only then he realized you had finished your explanation. He sputtered a bit trying to find words, moving his hands to awkwardly move his glasses and move hair out of his face. He inhaled deeply, exhaling just the same, “Thank you.” He expressed his gratitude to you quietly, reaching his hand out over the table slowly, nervously.

You noticed this action and moved your hand to move to his. He turned his hand so his palm would be upward and you interlock your fingers with his.

The two of you went back to studying, scribbling on paper and turning pages, fingers still interlaced above the table.

Klaus continued to look through his studies before mumbling a small, “You’re pretty too.” He wasn’t sure if you heard it, so he decided to not repeat it due to him being quite flustered from the past few moments. You did hear it, you smiled and held his hand a little tighter, writing down the boring information from the textbook.

Quiet moments are extremely rare in the Baudelaire children's case. Klaus Baudelaire wished to relive this specific peaceful moment everyday, because he didn’t think about anything else other than you. He would like to keep life that way.

[imagine-darksiders]

Hear me out: Samael with a pregnant (from before they met) reader.

- Finding out the object of his obsession affection is pregnant dredges up some long-buried instinct in the demon prince, one that has him plagued by the urge to nestle you away somewhere until well after the baby is born.

- You, however, are decidedly against the idea of Samael squirrelling you off to goodness knows where, so you try to go into hiding.

- He’ll burn the word down to flush you out if you do though.

- When he has you, he’s nerve-wrackingly gentle with you. Uncharacteristically so. You can’t help but feel like you’re waking on eggshells around him, like at any moment, the other shoe is going to drop and he’ll throw you in a cage or tear you apart just for the Hell of it. But that never happens.

- Samael grows agitated because his human is stressed, and that feeds into his primal nature, telling him he’s doing an inadequate job of making you comfortable in the ‘nest’ he’s built you.

- Said nest consists of an insanely large bed with scarlet, satin sheets, the colour of freshly spilled blood. He puts you in his own private chambers, under lock and key and guard, and though he’s often absent to attend to his affairs, he always returns at night to gloat about his latest scheme or the enemy he’s just overthrown, all in a bid to impress you and make you realise he’s a strong, accomplished provider.

- There’s also the matter of the child’s existing father… Samael has several plans in place for the assassination of your old flame, a cold act to be sure but a necessary one that’ll secure himself more firmly in your mind as your sole caretaker.

- He really wishes you’d allow him to help you ease some of the pain in your abdomen that comes in the latter stages of pregnancy, but every time he makes a suggestive comment to see if you’re receptive to his unorthodox yet effective methods of pain relief, you end up curled in the corner furthest from him, a quivering wreck, and not in the way he intended. So he leaves it alone… reluctantly.

- He’s unaccustomed to someone rejecting his advances. You don’t even fall in line due to fear, which you have in spades.

- You won’t let him touch your belly, fiercely protective of the baby growing inside you. And it’s a funny concept to the demon, that you won’t ’let’ him. As if a Prince of Hell could be commanded to do anything… but… for you, he at least keeps up the pretence that he’ll comply. At night however, after you’ve fallen asleep, Samael lays his immense head down right beside you, chuffing warmly through his nostrils as he peels back the covers and rests the very tip of his forefinger on your swollen belly.

- He tells himself he only does it in defiance of your wishes. But in truth, he seeks reassurance that the tiny life inside you is still alive and healthy. Humans are notoriously fragile, their offspring even more so.

- Several times you try to escape, citing that he can’t really expect a baby to grow up in a fortress in Hell. He doesn’t see the problem. It’s perfectly safe here. Certainly safer than being left up on Earth where all manner of things could happen to you without his protection.

- He doesn’t want to have to chain you to a wall to keep you from trying to leave him, but if you keep pushing him, you won’t leave him with much choice. You belong to him, and the child inside you, though not sown by his own seed, is his as well. The sooner you come to terms with that, the happier you’ll be, he’s sure.

- He’s no threat to you or the baby, although you seem to have some preconceived notion that as soon as they’re born, he’ll hold them ransom to control you.

- Admittedly, the idea had occurred to him briefly. But he soon realised he didn’t want that. He didn’t want a mindless thrall who followed every order and complied with his every whim. He’s not her. He’d rather have your cooperation. He’d rather have your true affection, to know for himself that notorious affinity humans have to love. It has eluded him for eternity. He wants that.

[inamindfarfaraway]

Evidence that Hazel Wells is autistic:

She loves routine, needs it to feel secure and adjusts poorly to changes from what she knows and her plan, e.g. her stress from moving to a new city and school, struggling to form bonds with her classmates and not having her promised talk with Anthony driving her to run away and be miserable enough to qualify for fairy godparents; wanting to replicate her relationship with her brother with Jasmine; learning how to deal with them both having evolved when he visits; her gut instinct itself says that a tour meticulously structured in advance is her dream holiday and urges her to follow her godparents’ offered one of Fairy World

She has special interests in geology, horror movies, dinosaurs and Prime Meridian Love (and hats?), not just loving them intensely and expressing that through learning and sharing intimate knowledge of them, but using them to understand and navigate relationships, e.g. wanting to watch horror films with Jasmine because that’s her definition of a bonding activity from her routine with Antony; inviting her friends to a book club reading her manga as another bonding activity; wishing Kenueth to life to do a romantic-coded activity; naming her rocks, drawing faces on them and talking to them, possibly originating in a history of having few friends

Her fairies’ default object disguise form is a pair of fidget tools and their entire purpose is to give her what she wants

She frequently feels anxious and overthinks things, especially regarding social interaction, e.g. her fear of Anthony forgetting about her while he’s away; getting overwhelmed by her peers in the cafeteria in “Teacher’s Pal”, fleeing and needing to steel herself simply to enter it at the end of the episode, not even planning to talk to anyone; being desperate to impress Winn and worrying that her home is inadequate for her standards, on a basis of nothing Winn has done; worrying that her geology presentation will be inadequate and wishing for a special stone; choosing to undergo countless time loops to try to avoid any embarrassment; worrying that an online quiz invalidates her close friendships

She nonetheless is said to be “mature” for her age in both “Fly” and “Teacher’s Pal” by Angela and herself

She has extremely high empathy despite not always easily understanding people, e.g. wishing to understand Dev; making selfless wishes on Founder’s Day whenever she sees unhappy kids; enabling Winn to experience their own interest in Patty Possum’s Party Playground the way they want and then empathizing with Patty about fearing abandonment and still loving people when they’re not around; continuing to be kind to Dev at the Dimmsonian and in “Best of Luck” after he twice reverts back to selfishness and malice and believes their friendship to be over; wishing for Marcus to get to be on a paranormal investigation TV show

She has a strong sense of justice, e.g. being so affected by learning about pollution that she starts a local environmentalist movement; vehemently opposing Dale’s corruption; rallying her friends to stand up to Vicky; angrily lashing out at Dev when she thinks or learns that he’s betrayed her

She can take things too literally or lack theory of mind, e.g. getting offended by Jasmine saying that she could dance alone “near” her partnered friends and holding that grudge for most of the episode; jumping to the conclusion that Dev is insulting her when he calls her “anomaly” and he was willingly, knowingly helping his father be evil; leaving him alone when he orders her to on his birthday rather than questioning if what he says he wants is what he actually wants or needs, since he’s clearly distraught and she knows that his issues revolve around abandonment, neglect and loneliness

She can disregard social norms when consumed by passion, e.g. interrupting the museum guide to share her own knowledge of dinosaurs and grabbing his microphone; infodumping about the plot of her manga in detail after Jasmine tells her not to; stealing Guzman’s hat just because she likes it so much

She has emotional breakdowns that lead to drastic, bad decisions and could be read as meltdowns, e.g. packing a suitcase and running away; remorsefully attempting to sacrifice her life to restore potatoes to Earth

She loves official documents and finds the Department of Motor Vehicles relaxing for its rigid structure and monotony

She samefoods with chips/fries and other potato products, so passionate about them as to mention them when introducing herself to her classmates and have a whole episode dedicated to her wanting to eat only them; this is a notable choice because chips have a mild, neutral base flavour, are often standardized by producers like restaurant chains and served with the same condiments, making their eating experience predictable (and she isn’t shamed for being a ‘picky eater’! Her parents and Mother Nature say that it’s wonderful that she finds so much joy in potatoes and gently convince her to give her body what else it needs too)

She also hates trail mix for being “chaotic” with all its different flavours mixed together, and firmly prefers oatmeal cookies to normal cookies

Autism is genetic and her father likewise exhibits several autistic traits

She considers Jasmine casually striking up a conversation with a stranger and singing in public without self-consciousness to make her courageous, no matter what other fears she has

She continues to think of herself as “the new kid” for a good few months post-move and feels the internal need to prove her belonging in Dimmadelphia on Founder’s Day

She can’t comprehend how and why arbitrary, pointless social rivalries like the one between the band and orchestra groups exist

She repeatedly wishes for fantastical roleplaying adventures with her godparents, which give her excitement without stress or loss of control, as the stakes aren’t real and she always wins in the end (the “plot twist” we see Wanda add is the return of a villain from a previous adventure, still drawing on comfortable familiarity)

She has no interest in seeing more of Fairy World until Dev brings it up, strange for such a curious girl who adores her fairies - maybe out of aversion to an unknown, unpredictable setting?

When surrounded by clones of herself and asked to raise her hand if she’s real, she hesitates because she isn’t sure and doesn’t want to “deprive the real Hazel of being herself”, demonstrating high empathy, self-doubt and existential overthinking all at once; Wanda says, “Only the real Hazel would overthink whether she was real or not!”

I’m autistic and I relate to her enough to know

[nqueso-emergency]

i mean - i think buck has not exactly been liked by a big part of the buddie fandom for a long while. some of them liked to hide it or not admit it, but they were bad at it. i thought it was obvious they don’t like buck for the longest time.

if you read their takes, or their fics, or any headcanon, it’s always the same formula. buck screws up, buck acts like a child, buck needs eddie to come to the rescue because he doesn’t know better, buck has to apologize to eddie. most of the time they also have eddie be super understanding and catering to buck as if he was his second child.

but then the buck we get in canon becomes more and more like the complete opposite version of their buck. and eddie is becoming someone they also don’t register in their fanon fantasy. i think they deeply hate how buck is the more stable one of the two. i think they hate how buck has grown up and is, arguably, a bit more mature than eddie right now. i think they hate the show is starting to paint buck as a figure you can rely on, that is wise and helpful, and mature (i think they slowly want to make him be the perfect captain, but i digress).

meanwhile eddie is slowly spiraling down, he hasn’t exactly grown a lot since he came onto 911 (in comparison to other characters, including buck), he’s if anything, gotten slightly worse. he mistreats women and doesn’t show a lot of remorse for it - he doesn’t seem to be super guilty over the pain he caused marisol in 709/710. understandably he was more upset about chris, and i would think of this as a fluke, but we’ve seen this before (hey, ana). eddie has also been shown to lash out against people whenever he gets mad at them, and he’s shown he’s okay lying to his friends without, again, feeling remorse about it. and hey, i am okay with a flawed character. everyone at the 118 is flawed and i think that’s what makes them great characters. i personally don’t like eddie as much as the rest, but that’s mostly due to his lack of self reflection and how he usually doesn’t apologize for his actions. as well as for the way i just don’t see him grow up in a way i can relate to.

to sum this up, when you put buck and eddie together it is rather obvious how different they are. and how different they are to the version that exists of them in fanon. and when you put them together throughout the seasons you can see buck’s growth, something it’s barely there with eddie.

so it makes sense that they’re now hating on him. they started at 710 when they wanted buck to be the one to solve eddie’s issues, and were mad that he chose to leave the diaz family alone to deal with their stuff, and went home to decompress and be with his boyfriend. he’s been judas to them ever since.

but hey, if some of them stop shipping buddie because apparently buck is a pos (ofc it can never be eddie, the one to make several big mistakes and have questionable behavior during s7)… silver lining. if they leave because of them i won’t complain, i’ll just watch them to with a smile and a sip of coffee.

sorry for the long rant lmao.

No I think you're right! They want the dynamic of uwuBuck and parental figure Eddie and that is not what is happening. If they wanted that, funny enough, they'd need season 1 Buck, the one they really don't like. (Or even know)

I believe Eddie's problem is that he's always been the hero. He won that silver star and I don't think he really believes he should have. He was just doing his job, ya know? But everyone looks to him as this army hero and in reality this man is so terrified underneath it all he feels inadequate in every avenue of his life.

It's why Ryan's excited to basically "ruin" Eddie. He needs it.

[iiseult]

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒯𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝒶𝓅𝓅𝒽𝒾𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒥𝑒𝓇𝓊𝓈𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓂

CWs →  fluff, angst, suggestive content, historical inaccuracies, slow burn, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, eventual smut (once reader and baldwin are both over 18), leprosy, time-period accurate sexism, one-sided pining

Wordcount: 3.1k

Note: I asked if you guys preferred to have more frequent updates with shorter chapters or slower updates with longer chapters, and the three people that responded wanted more frequent updates so here we are. Please reblog if you enjoy because the second chapter didn’t do very well and I don’t want this series to die off before it even begins! EL OH EL!!

The issue of an heir, or the lack thereof, had been solidly squared away by Baldwin within three months of your marriage, so that you never had to speak a word on the matter. He told his mother that despite “frequent attempts” on both your parts, you could not be made with child on account of his inadequate health. Of course no such attempts were ever made, but that knowledge was something that stayed solely between the two of you. By that point everybody in the royal court had suspected as much anyway, and with the news of his leprosy having recently been confirmed, it was accepted with very little noise. Nobody spoke to you of it, likely afraid to broach the topic, except for Baldwin’s mother, who offered you her sympathies and prayers, which you publicly accepted and privately rejected. Though she had finally relented in her feelings of ill will toward you, they had apparently been replaced with feelings of nothingness, so you continued to resent her until her death the following year. 

Meantime, you concerned yourself with adjusting to life as a queen and worked on becoming familiar with the kingdom, and Baldwin left you very much alone. He was a positively mysterious figure, seemingly doing his utmost to stay out of your way and to avoid contact with you altogether. Occasionally you did see him haunting the corridors of the castle like a faceless apparition in his colorless robes and hidden expression, but he never spoke to you, so in turn you did not speak to him. For the most part it did not bother you, but you sometimes childishly wished for his company, though it likely wasn’t his direct company you were wishing for but rather the company of any such equal. However you did miss the fluttery feeling he used to be able to stir in your breast with his charming words and noble actions. Somewhat successfully, you pushed those immature notions away and hoped they wouldn’t return. 

Despite your loneliness, you were constantly surrounded by Matilda and Amelia, the latter whom you’d come to rather like and regard as something of a sister. And if she was the sister, Matilda was the mother. 

Matilda perpetually accompanied you on your explorations of the city, helping you navigate the narrow alleyways and bustling streets and showing you which unsavory characteristics were the surefire marks of a swindler. That you favored the market streets above all else was immediately evident to her, so teaching you to spot dishonest merchants and avoid giving them your business was one of her top priorities. Most of your time in the city was, in fact, spent shopping. You admired the handmade wares being peddled at every corner and ignored the incessant voices imploring you to come this way or go that way so they could sell you something. It was all very amusing and enticing to you. 

Each time you requested it you were allotted certain amounts of money from the king to spend at your whim, collected and delivered to you by various servants, and he was more generous than anyone ever expected. With this allowance, you were able to purchase rolls of richly-colored fabrics to be made into dresses, endless supplies of ink and parchment, pottery covered in artwork so detailed it could have only been done by a single paintbrush hair, any number of books that appealed to you, and numerous tapestries hand-woven with shining threads that depicted biblical scenes or mythical creatures, such as unicorns or dragons. These you hung in your own bedchamber. But perhaps the most magnificent of all your purchases was the very first one you ever made, which occurred during your second week. You had emptied your coin purse for it, quite literally turned it upside down on the merchant’s stand, gold coins rolling here and there for him to chase after. Matilda strongly disapproved and urged you not to make the purchase because she thought the piece too fanciful and mature for such a young lady, but you silenced her with an icy glance and there was henceforth no more talk of the subject. 

It was a sapphire ring. The band was thick and gold, adorned by intricate flowing patterns, and the stone was inlaid securely between four strong prongs. For a second you figured it could become a family heirloom and be passed down onto your children, but then you remembered that the prospect of you ever having children was unlikely at best and a small twinge of disappointment tugged at your heart. So you decided it would be best to get as much enjoyment out of the thing as possible and from then on you wore it proudly everywhere and on every occasion, regardless of Matilda’s disapproving glances. 

The people of Jerusalem found their new queen just as mysterious and elusive as they had once found their king. Seeing a member of their royal family out in public had become an oddity over the years of Baldwin’s reign, and yet you were there at least twice a week, speaking in some romantic foreign tongue to your servants. Many of your subjects spoke only Arabic or Greek and could not recognize your French when they heard it. But the thing most contributing to the air of mysteriousness surrounding you actually had nothing to do with you personally; it was more so the fact that nobody ever expected the king to marry. Your indisputable beauty only contributed to the confusion. There had been rumors about Baldwin’s illness for years now, and the fact that his face was always covered by a mask led most everyone to believe that he must have suffered some hideous facial disfigurement as a result. This begged the question, how could such a beautiful young woman willingly marry such a horrifying person? 

Baldwin took his meals in his bedchamber and also conducted all business out of it. To you he was evasive and sightings of him were rare, limited to perhaps once a month. In the first four weeks after the wedding night, you saw him twice, maybe thrice. 

You had been in the chapel, kneeling at the altar and praying with your head bent and a cloth covering it, when he silently slipped into the room completely unbeknownst to you and took up prayer only a few feet away. After a moment you looked up and saw him with a start, having expected to see someone there, but not expecting to see him. His head was bowed, and his blond tresses fell over his face, hiding it from you, but you could still see his lips moving silently in prayer. When he was finished he quickly crossed himself and turned to fix his gaze on you, apparently having decided to go maskless that day. You stared, chest rising and falling heavily as you tried to recover from the shock with a hand clasped over your heart, willing it to stop its wild thumping. His blue eyes twinkled in amusement as your cheeks flushed and you felt a little anger at him for being entertained by you, but if he noticed this, he didn’t show it. He gazed at you for a time, eyes remaining kind but impassible, before he evidently decided he’d had enough and stood, walking out of the chapel without a single word ever passing between the two of you. 

Again you saw him one afternoon after returning from the city with Matilda. You had purchased the last remaining volume of a book whose other parts were already in the library, and seeked to put it in its rightful place on the shelf. Baldwin had been in the library playing chess with Raymond at the time, as he had been for the better part of the day, and he muttered something to the man softly when you walked in and hastily curtseyed to them. His eyes followed you across the room to where you stopped in front of a towering bookshelf. You let your head drop back against your shoulders and sighed, seeing that you would have to somehow reach the very top shelf. You’d have to find the ladder, or else find a servant who would replace the book for you. As you turned around, he appeared right behind you, blue eyes twinkling in that same mild-mannered way and holding his gloved hands out. 

Without speaking he seemed to say “allow me”, and it was so bewitching that you complied immediately without a thought, dropping the heavy volume into his outstretched hands. You watched, enchanted, in silence as he reached up to the top shelf, straining even at his impressive height, and slid the leather-bound volume into place. Again you curtseyed and bowed your head in thanks, peering up at him through your lashes. He continued smiling and only nodded once before retreating to his chess game, so you followed suit and returned to Matilda’s side. 

A strange anxiousness had seemed to overcome you, and you spent the rest of the day lying on your fainting couch drinking wine and trying to keep your mind from conjuring up images of him. How had he known which books the volume belonged with? How could he know? But by the time night fell and Matilda was gathering you against her chest to help walk you to bed, your regular spirited countenance had returned, and the period of brooding had reached its end. 

There was one other time in that first month you thought you might have seen him, but for all you knew, it could have been a trick of the candlelight. 

After a particularly heavy dinner of lamb, bread, and pudding, you had been dragging yourself wearily to bed when out of the corner of your eye, you saw something white and fluttering behind you. You turned to see what or whom it was, but of course it was gone by then, vanished into thin air. You hadn’t dared peer around the corner, deciding it was better not to know. But the fluttering white thing had almost certainly been his robe, and that notion didn’t leave your mind for the rest of the night, nor did it really ever. It was something you always remembered and often thought of for no particular reason. 

In the second month you saw him even less frequently, only catching a few glimpses here and there, and the instances seemed more spaced apart. He was seldom alone, but even if he had been you doubted you’d have the courage to speak to him, and God only knows what you’d speak of. Perhaps some interesting tidbit of news from the city or some morsel of gossip, as it were. However the opportunity never presented itself. 

In the third month you saw him but once, on the eve of your fifteenth birthday. He had been returning from the city on his white horse with a retinue of servants, many more than would be necessary for any other royal figure, but perhaps they were worried he’d have a spell of illness.

You had been awaiting his return by the window of the East tower with your embroidery for hours, hoping to discover something interesting about his little trip. Earlier in the day you’d heard a few of your maids murmuring about the king’s sudden decision to visit the city for the first time in almost a year. They wondered what the occasion was and then so did you. As he rode past the great stone wall surrounding the castle and disappeared into the stables beyond your line of sight, you concluded that there was truly nothing remarkable to see and that all your waiting had been in vain, so you promptly went to bed. 

On the morning of your fifteenth birthday you awoke to see a package of brown parchment on your bedside table, bound with a shining silken bow of royal blue. The color was a gift in and of itself, for you very well knew how costly blue dye was. A tingle of excitement ran through your veins as you lifted the package onto your lap, carefully pulling the bow loose and setting it aside for later; it would make a lovely accessory. Then, holding your breath, you slid your fingers along the seam of the parchment and unfolded it to reveal an unremarkable wooden box, smooth and cool to the touch. But inside the box, to your utter shock and speechlessness, was a treasure unlike any other you’d ever laid eyes upon. 

It was a necklace, made of heavy, sparkling chains of gold, and set in the middle of the large circular pendant was a perfect sapphire. It was cut expertly and you could see your own awestricken reflection, tinted blue in tiny identical rooms on each flat face. The gemstone was heavy and you understood the need for such a substantial chain as you hung it around your neck, barely able to tear your eyes away from it to read the note that was placed underneath it in the box. 

“To match your ring,” it simply said. 

Though there was no signature, you knew who it was from. Only a king could afford such a thing. And the deep blue color of the jewel was so familiar to you, it must have been the exact same shade as the one in your ring. You held up the ring next to the necklace, which was resting on your bosom, and looked in the mirror for comparison, and sure enough they were identical in color, though the stone in the ring was much smaller. It was only the size of a thumbnail whereas the necklace’s stone was an honest to god rock, a bit smaller than your palm. 

While you stared at yourself in the sapphire’s glassy surface, you came to realize two things; one, you didn’t have any idea when Baldwin’s birthday was, and two, both gemstones were very similar in color to that of the eyes of your husband. You thought perhaps that was what drew you to the ring in the first place, that familiar feeling you got when looking at that color. 

Later in the morning when Amelia dressed you, you showed her the necklace and her pupils widened so much that you could no longer see the gray of her irises. She carefully placed it around your throat, adding the finishing touch to your appearance. Then you asked her when Baldwin’s birthday was. 

“September 16th, Your Majesty. It was a few months before your wedding. He does not celebrate, or at least he hasn’t for very many years. But the parties used to be ever so wonderful…” she trailed off, no doubt reminiscing on the great royal get-togethers of her youth. 

Again something clicked in your mind which you found a bit surprising. Though Baldwin had only seen you a handful of times since the wedding and up close only twice, he had apparently noticed your ring and managed to commit to memory nearly its exact shade of blue. You further realized that he had gone out of the palace the day prior for the purpose of procuring this gift. How did he know your birthday, you wondered. 

You stared down at your ring, which was glinting ceaselessly against your finger as if it was trying to tell you something. Sapphires, you thought, September. And then it made sense. The stone of September was, in fact, a sapphire. That was Baldwin’s stone. The stone of loyalty and honesty. And the two sapphires you now possessed, both bought with his money, would certainly become heirlooms. Perhaps you would have them pass them onto Baldwin’s young nephew upon your death, for it would be too much a shame to bury them with you and keep them from sparkling in the light of the sun the way they were meant to. 

You wanted to thank him but you just didn’t know how. 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Baldwin had become something of a private investigator, as it were, and his focus was you. He wanted to keep his distance because he was afraid of upsetting you, so he tried to revert to his original plan of leaving you completely to your own devices and not interfering, but it soon proved impossible for him. Like a fool he had gotten his hopes up, just to have them come crashing down around him on his wedding night. He thought you could have been the perfect person to rule side-by-side with even if you did have a lot to learn. He thought you could have loved him even if it ended up being true that he could not provide you with an heir. He thought that you could have loved him, and that was his mistake, but he had already fallen in love with you.

He could not keep away from you but he could not be with you, so he compromised and went near you only when you did not know. It was not invasive, however, and he never wanted to breach your privacy. It was just little things. He would lurk in corridors he knew you would walk through in hopes of catching snatches of conversations between you and one of your servants. He had Amelia collect pieces of personal information about you and report back to him, which was undoubtedly how he found out your birthday. 

One day he followed you into the chapel and made like he was praying so he could sit next to you, if only for a moment. The warmth that spread in his breast in those few moments of closeness with you was enough to sustain him for a few more weeks. 

Even more painful than his raw leprous skin was the pain of seeing you smiling and conversing with people who were not him, to see you dressing in fine gowns and jewelry and going to dinner with people who were not him. To not be with you was the most painful thing he knew. For the woman he felt such tender things for to not even know the half of it. So with every month that passed he withdrew more, knowing that every time he left his chambers he risked running into you.

 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Quietly he opened your bedroom door, knowing you had to be sleeping at such a late hour, and you were. The pale light of the moon made your face look almost mask-like in sleep. Your delicate eyelashes were pressed to your cheeks, those cheeks he wished so badly to kiss. The desire to be near you, he thought as he gently placed the brown parchment package on your bedside table, was one day going to kill him.

[selfhelpforstudents]

i always see people around me being more productive and starting revision earlier and doing everything much faster. i’m already trying my best, but i start panicking when i see them be better, and feel like i’m lagging behind. how do i snap out of this mentality?

How to Stop Panicking About Productivity:

We’ve all been there. You’re grinding away at your own pace, and then you glance around and see everyone else seemingly miles ahead. They’re breezing through tasks, acing their exams, and looking like they’ve got it all figured out. Meanwhile, you’re fighting off panic, convinced you’re falling behind. But before you spiral further, take a breath. You’re not alone, and there’s a way to snap out of this productivity panic.

1. Realize You’re Not in a Race

First off, let’s get one thing straight: life isn’t a race. Sure, it feels like everyone around you is speeding ahead, but that doesn’t mean you’re losing. Your journey is your own, and comparing your progress to others is like comparing apples to oranges. Different people have different strengths, learning styles, and paces. What works for someone else might not work for you, and that’s okay.

2. Practice Mindful Self-Compassion

When you catch yourself spiraling, pause and check in with yourself. Are you being too harsh on your own progress? Give yourself some credit. You’re doing your best, and that’s enough. Start practicing self-compassion by treating yourself like you would a friend who’s struggling. Would you tell them they’re a failure, or would you encourage them to keep going? Be your own cheerleader.

3. Focus on Your Progress, Not Theirs

It’s easy to get caught up in what everyone else is doing, but the only progress that really matters is your own. Take a moment to reflect on how far you’ve come instead of how far you think you have to go. Even small steps forward are still progress. Keep a journal or a list of what you’ve accomplished each day, no matter how minor it seems. This will help you stay grounded and motivated.

4. Set Realistic Goals and Celebrate Wins

Instead of trying to match someone else’s pace, set goals that are achievable for you. Break your tasks into manageable chunks, and celebrate each win, no matter how small. Finished a chapter? That’s a win. Wrote 200 words? That’s a win. You don’t need to conquer the world in a day—just keep moving forward at your pace.

5. Take Breaks and Recharge

Burnout is real, and it can sneak up on you if you’re constantly pushing yourself to keep up with others. Schedule regular breaks to recharge. Go for a walk, watch an episode of your favorite show, or just chill out for a bit. Remember, productivity isn’t about working nonstop; it’s about finding a sustainable rhythm.

6. Limit Social Media Consumption

Let’s be honest—social media can be a huge source of comparison and stress. Everyone’s posting their highlights, but you’re not seeing the full picture. Consider cutting back on your social media usage, especially when you’re feeling vulnerable. Out of sight, out of mind. Focus on your journey instead of getting sucked into someone else’s highlight reel.

7. Find a Support System

Surround yourself with people who uplift you. Whether it’s friends, family, or a study group, find a support system that encourages you rather than makes you feel inadequate. Share your struggles and victories with them; chances are, they’re feeling the same way too. A strong support system can make all the difference in keeping your mindset positive.

8. Accept That Perfection Isn’t the Goal

Perfectionism is a trap. Striving for perfection will only lead to more stress and dissatisfaction. Instead, aim for progress and improvement. Mistakes are part of the learning process, and they don’t define your worth. Embrace the idea that doing your best is more than enough.

9. Remember, You’re Doing Great

At the end of the day, it’s important to remind yourself that you’re doing just fine. The fact that you’re even worried about falling behind shows that you care about your progress. Don’t let the comparison game steal your joy and motivation. Keep your eyes on your own path, trust in your process, and give yourself the credit you deserve.

So next time you feel that productivity panic creeping in, take a step back, breathe, and remind yourself that you’re on your own unique journey. You’ve got this.

Best,

Sophia

[illegiblewords]

SOME ILLEGIBLE RAMBLES AND REFLECTIONS: THE DEAD THREE

Finished my first/main playthrough of Baldur’s Gate 3, and it’s had me turning over all sorts of ideas tied to Dungeons and Dragons lore. A bunch happens to be about cosmology so I'm slapping together one post about the Dead Three and a follow-up about deities more generally. Buckle up if you decide to proceed dudes. This is chunky and opinion/interpretation heavy. CW for mention (not extensive) of graphic violence and sex crimes during discussion of Bhaal and Yeenoghu.

MYRKUL

I get that there are multiple death-affiliated deities in DnD. Our buddy Jergal is the end of all things and the original incarnation of the concept. Myrkul stands for the experience of dying, decay, necromancy, graves, bones, and the fear of mortality. Kelemvor rules over the dead. Orcus is a demon lord and quasi-deity of undeath. Could prob go on.

I've read many different incarnations of death over the years. To set the stage on my Myrkul read, it bears mentioning that Terry Pratchett's Death is probably my favorite. I don't have it in me to see death as something totally malicious. It's very natural, and I tend to imagine that if there were to be an incarnation embodying it this persona would have an intimate view of all the love and grief, vulnerability and intimacy, ugliness and solitude, etc. that mortals deal with. Death has witnessed the end every living being faces, from the dawn of creation until now. Even if it isn't consciously accessed at all moments, death is ancient and experienced and not likely to be shocked by what mortals are capable of anymore. Mortals are small. Uncountably numerous though we are we are far outnumbered by the unliving. What are lives next to planets, to stars? Here I'd argue against assigning value according to how big or small something is, how eternal or how brief, how simple or complex. Everything that is, is a universe unto itself and deserves the gravity of that. It is also very mundane at the same time. To me, death needs to be able to balance the preciousness and commonality of life, of existence, on the tip of its scythe. Death needs to be able to deal with the most depraved beings to exist, but also with every beloved pet put to sleep. Every lost child or parent. Everyone who dies surrounded by loved ones and everyone who dies alone.

Initially, even knowing Myrkul in particular had been a mortal necromancer and not of particular moral standing--I had mixed feelings about him being the evilest of evil skeletons. He worked it well, but the idea of any aspect of death (or any character tbh) being flat evil felt off to me. Especially with 'we're all the protagonists of our own stories' being at work. People don't often look at what actions they'd consider to be evil then go 'I'm going to make myself that on purpose'. Disregarding morality maybe, but being evil on purpose is weird.

So I looked into further lore about Myrkul. One spot that gave me pause was that Myrkul as death (rather than the adventurer Myrkul Bey al-Kursi he’d once been) revels in inspiring fear of death and driving home experiences of loss. From what I found he isn't focused on the name of the individual holding the office of death, but for the force itself being feared. He can be bribed, and he will allow for necromancy/resurrections--but the fear and gravity of death is a sacred thing to him. Disregarding that is a pretty good way to get onto Myrkul's shitlist. I want to take a moment to emphasize the importance of Myrkul focusing on his portfolio over his own ego. That is far from a given in the DnD pantheon, and like I said he's a former mortal himself. It wouldn't be out of the question for him to be a petty and insecure deity. He could have been the sort of guy where becoming a god of death by itself wasn't enough power. If Myrkul was a different person, he might have wanted people to stroke his ego and say how strong he is. He might have been someone who felt inadequate as a god without that affirmation. He could have (as a character) been unsatisfied and forever wanting/dependent upon the views of others to define himself. The fact that he DOES focus on death and decay as forces rather than himself is a big deal in reading him imo.

Anyway. Myrkul's emphasis on death as something feared got me thinking about what would cause a person to put such weight on death being understood in its negative aspect. It struck me that this is actually a very common and even important thing. You don't need to demonize death to see it, either. If you value life as sacred, the idea of life being treated as cheap or disposable is horrifying. When you love something dearly, the idea of that beloved thing being defaced is beyond outrage. It's a kind of sacrilege. People who kill as casually as breathing, who revel in the permanent destruction of someone else, become a source of horror. The absence of love creates a sort of cruelty that can't even perceive itself. And it's not uncommon for human beings in particular to partake in this. Humans dance on the graves of those they deem enemies not because they're relieved to be safe, but because they glory in the end of other lives. They don't recognize that anything of value was lost. There is no tragedy in death anymore. Every gentle moment, every vulnerability, every tragedy in their opponent's life is something to be crapped on and gloated over. There is no greater insult to life itself. Myrkul stands as a reminder that such behavior cannot stand. You can't treat life or death as cheap. To see something horrific and fail to realize the weight of its horror is itself a form of horror. The idea of a death that demands to be acknowledged for what it is, particularly by the living, imo actually denotes a level of care for life too. It might be harsh or ugly, but I don't know about evil. So while Myrkul is certainly flawed and often serves as an antagonist, I’d argue the function he performs is not only important but necessary.

And while it might vary between players, I found Aylin's enthusiastic executions and body defiling pretty uncomfortable. I understand she went through a lot and am fine with her as a character. But I think Myrkul's point stands if the audience feels even a moment of disquiet seeing her celebrate over the corpse of a broken person.

Some things are meant to be ugly.

BANE

Of the Dead Three I find Bane the most disturbing and dangerous tbh—but not for how Gortash invokes him. Way I see it, the other word for tyranny is authoritarianism on a macro-level, abuse on an individual level.

I’d argue that in life, we can only healthily control ourselves and our own individual actions/choices. We can try to persuade others or appeal to their judgment, but we can’t MAKE another person think or act how we wish. When folks attempt otherwise (individually or more broadly) it involves fear, force, deceit, or other forms of pressure. Coercion, enslavement. These fall under the umbrella of tyrannical practice to me. You treat another person as subhuman and strip them of agency.

We don’t live in a pure and ideal world. If a tyrannical person is committing crimes and denying others their free will through force, I wouldn’t call defense through force tyrannical as long as it wasn’t needlessly excessive. Power struggles exist. But the whole practice of using fear, force, deceit, or pressure to control another person is dangerous imo. They're to be utilized as little as possible.

In DnD I don’t think the fringe evil cults would be the ones most at risk for corruption by Bane. I don't think individuals or groups who prioritize self-indulgence would be most at risk, either. The most dangerous and frequent disciples of Bane imo would be within good alignment. This means followers of benevolent gods as well as the nations or groups that consider themselves to have righteous causes. ESPECIALLY those with chips on their shoulders.

When someone assumes they have and always will have the moral high ground, that they are incapable of committing injustice, that their end justifies whatever means, that it doesn’t count as abuse with the 'correct' target… that, to me, is where tyranny festers. The person convinced of their own moral infallibility is the one who sees no need for brakes and so cuts them without concern.

I’d argue everybody has a seed of tyranny in them that can be fed or starved. We feed that seed with our own indignation to become a tyrant victimizing others while still seeing ourselves as powerless. The person who first victimized you can still also be victimized by you. There isn’t a target that exists where finding joy in cruelty gets a pass.

Bane, I think, thrives on the idea that it's no problem if you're enforcing your will. Especially on people contemptible to you.

For DnD purposes, imagine you have zealous followers of idk Tyr. They are willing to do whatever it takes to enforce and spread their definition of justice. They believe in making examples of people at every opportunity. They torture, isolate, rob, and shame those they consider to be unjust or dangerous. If their victims are falsely accused—well. It’s for a noble purpose so the sacrifice is not in vain. And imagine Tyr abandons these followers as hypocrites. He no longer empowers clerics or paladins no matter how they cite scripture or brand ‘heretics’ with his symbols.

Bane doesn’t enter calling himself Bane, god of tyranny. Bane claims to follow a higher justice. Maybe he uses an avatar, maybe he chooses a Banite disciple, maybe he finds a true believer. But he argues that Tyr as an individual was never ultimately what those zealots stood for—it was justice itself. And if Tyr has turned traitor to his own portfolio, mortals need to go over his head to the core concept and implement that. Bane offers a name that suits his purposes and begins sourcing power to clerics and paladins instead. And throughout, as the zealots commit increased atrocities against those they deem dangerous or evil they fail to realize they’ve spiraled into evil alignment after all. They’d think they were either just as good as they’d always been OR BETTER. The compassion of Ilmater is spent on the depraved and corrupt as far as they’re concerned.

I think the real threat of Bane is that he should be 100% capable of corrupting an otherwise heroic party member if they aren’t wary of that capacity in themself. You suddenly find your friend who listened to your problems and supported you through awful shit mocking a person sobbing on the ground as they kick them. And that friend looks betrayed and hurt (or outraged) if you challenge their actions, because they think you should know exactly how disgusting this piece of shit is and how much they deserve the abuse. And even if you concede that individual case—it’s not the only one. The slights worthy of torment become smaller and smaller. A thought or word out of line betrays the ideology of an evil alignment, with the only solution being to beat thoughts and words out of the target until they can only repeat approved ideas back. And even then, it may not be enough.

If it was explicitly confirmed that the deity the zealot followed was Bane all along, the zealot might genuinely not believe it. They might get pissed at the very suggestion. What they do against the wicked isn’t tyranny after all. They’re righteous.

Denial doesn’t serve to disempower Bane in the least if tactics remain unchanged.

BHAAL

I’m holding off on more detailed Bhaal thoughts until I complete a dark urge run, but I’ve listened to lore on both him and the demon lord Yeenoghu recently—and I think there’s room for a really cool potential contrast.

Yeenoghu Lore

Providing this particular video link for the curious, as a way to help illustrate what I’m drawing from.

Yeenoghu holds the title as demon lord of slaughter. He glories in filth, rape, excessively graphic murder, torture, violence, and playing with corpses along the way. He’s meant to come across as a bestial, self-absorbed, remorseless desecrater. And when I say bestial, I want to draw attention to a particular IRL factoid that might be worth considering.

I love animals to bits. I don’t think animals generally contemplate morality the way humans do just due to cognitive differences and limitations. I also think it’s important to remember that humans are ALSO animals, so certain things umbrella’d under ‘human experience’ would probably apply to at least some animals too. If there are human altruists and human serial killers, we should be able to expect that animals likewise have some altruists and some serial killers within the scope of individual variation.

Cruelty is not exclusive to humans. Orcas will essentially torture smaller animals to death by flinging them into the air with their tails repeatedly like balls until repeated beatings and suffocation kill them. Dolphins commit rape and chew on live puffer fish to get high off the toxins. Chimpanzees are a horror unto themselves with cannibalism and mutilation and basically whatever atrocity they can commit. Wolves and cats sometimes hunt to excess just for the joy of it and don’t eat all they kill. Hannibal the swan (as a specific and notably homicidal individual) beat and drowned any other swans visiting his pond and showed his signet how to do it. I could go on. Some cases it might be a matter of the animal not having theory of mind to recognize that they are inflicting pain on another conscious creature. Other times, like with pissed off chimpanzees, they know EXACTLY what they’re doing and it’s on purpose to cause maximum suffering.

I think Yeenoghu should embody a little bit of both propensities. He’s just utterly self-absorbed and doesn’t give a fuck about the experiences or perspectives of other living things except insofar as they impact him.

Bhaal I want to research more like I said, but one thing I remember from my initial play through was finding a note from the Dark Urge to Orin.

Little sister, whatever in the Gray Wastes are we going to do with you? Bhaal will never care that you waste your time, posing your corpse-dollies. Bhaal doesn’t care whether you give him the corpse of a pauper or a king. At the end of the day, all Father wants is death in droves, death in numbers. To sap away the life of this dull world as swiftly and widely as we can. You plan, you plot, you prevaricate, and you waste his time. Bhaal doesn’t need us to think. He needs us to kill. You kill beautifully, and have talents in your shapes’ magics that I never will. But you do not understand Lord Bhaal. Perhaps it is a failing of your diluted blood, as a mere grandchild. I am his sole living pureblood. I will accept no challenge from you, until you show some damned respect.

To be honest this is interesting af to me because it positions Orin a bit more in-line with Yeenoghu’s modus operandi in some ways. But what sets apart the principles of Bhaal from Yeenoghu or Myrkul?

The Dark Urge suggests the goal of Bhaal is the extinction of all life, but to be honest I’m a bit skeptical. Seems like short term thinking. Even if Bhaal pulled that off, once it’s done there is no more murder or god of murder for that matter. If Bhaal is aiming for a cessation of existence and wants everyone else along for the ride maybe that’s what he’s after, but I dunno. That seems like something fans/players/loremasters would have touched on before.

I’d like to invite this possibility for foiling instead:

Life consumes other life by nature. Animals, plants, fungi, bacteria, so forth—it isn’t just a matter of philosophy. One life cannot exist without destroying another. We need to eat. If we don’t, we die well before reproduction enters the picture. But it’s more than that… you take a step, you kill countless tiny organisms you aren’t even aware of. You swat a fly. You hit something with your car. You move gracelessly or touch carelessly, and catastrophe ensues. Etcetera.

It is inevitable that your existence will mean the end for the life of another living thing. That’s just how it goes.

It could be interesting on a LOT of fronts (both as members of the dead three and as former adventuring companions) if Bhaal acted as a kind of philosophical opposite to Myrkul the way I previously described.

If the Dark Urge’s note is to be trusted, Bhaal has no interest in ritual or glorified death per se. Bhaal would be more about the mundanity that comes through the act of killing. Life is fragile as-is and often ended by accident. Killing in its most common form is thoughtless and unconscious. To Bhaal, if every life is a universe then the universe looks meaningless. There is no importance or fanfare to any of it. If one side is ‘everything matters, give weight to life and death’, Bhaal would be ‘nothing matters, we are not capable of affording reverence to every single life and death we encounter’. More specifically, the mass deaths Bhaal favors would be a kind of illustration of the uncaring and casual relationship living things have with killing other living things. The more casual and effortless it is, the more I’d imagine it serves Bhaal. Sadism and revelry miss the point—there is no hierarchy. Suffering is inconsequential. Fear is inconsequential. Instinct is inconsequential. To live is to kill by Bhaal’s logic.

It isn’t limited to murder in the sense of a member of one species killing a member of the same species. It’s more Bhaal is the god of killing. He’d gain power from murder too sure, but also hunting, harvesting, and butchering. With these interpretations in-mind, we can actually figure out how the Dead Three might have answered Jergal's question about what worth a mortal life holds. With the disclaimer this is very much conjecture. I think Myrkul would likely be "Each life is of infinite value and merits sacrificing everything for." That lends life a heavy weight and makes death a fearful force for all. It would also mesh with Ketheric as his chosen. Bane would lean into "That depends on a person's deeds", "The only life that matters is mine", or "Depends on the mortal". From those positions, the speaker argues for a hierarchy of life where some is more expendable than the rest. It's easier from that position to slide into adopting a role as judge and executioner, and from elevating yourself into a role of authority where other voices and experiences count less than your own. Bhaal I think is reflected in "Life’s only value is as currency. Doesn’t matter to me otherwise", "The only life that matters is mine", or "No one life is worth more than any other. We are equal." Bhaal has the implicit question in-turn: what is the blood-price of your own life? How much have you claimed in your own name to keep moving? It's kind of the belief that while "The only life that matters is mine" is Bhaal's answer, every other living thing should be answering the same way. There's more nuance than that of course, and likely truth falls somewhere in the middle. We aren't mentally capable of giving reverence to every death, but we can recognize in general terms and do our best case-by-case. We have a right to protect ourselves and what we love, but others share that right.

Feel free to offer different stances or thoughts though, and if you made it this far goddamn thank you for reading this monster.

[roguishcat]

Brunch

Summary: Another, better emotionally equipped male would probably just ask Tav out. Like on an actual proper date at a nice venue rather than sticking to their monthly meeting for brunch as a pathetic excuse for spending time with her. But that was the crux of the problem. Astarion had absolutely zero clue as to how to be in a relationship.

Humour/Friendship/Romance

Tags: AU, Modern times, Elf Astarion, No Cazador, Mature Language, Suggestive Themes, Jealous Astarion

Two-shot: Part 1 - 5k words

Pairing: Astarion x female Tav

Rating: Mature (Part 2 will be rated E, so MDNI please)

A/N: This does not have a beta. So if you notice any mistakes, please let me know! 💖 Comments are always appreciated!

“Sorry, I’m late,” Tav stumbled gracelessly into the café, her cheeks flushed from the heat.

“Quite alright, darling. I have already ordered,” Astarion replied, his eyes sweeping over her in appreciation.

Tav, being herself, misjudged his look and self-consciously pulled on the front of her dress, unsuccessfully trying to get it to unstick from her clammy skin. Everyone was suffering from the heatwave, and they looked it, except Astarion, of course. He, unlike Tav, looked as cool as a freaking cucumber. Silver curls falling just so, his white shirt fresh, sleeves rolled up to bare his forearms.

“I’m just going to go and splash some water on my face, it’s boiling hot outside today. I don’t know how you can bear it. Here, hold my bag.”

She thrust her tote into his hands and walked off in the direction of the bathroom. Astarion wasted no time in rummaging through it because really, what else did she expect? If she didn’t want him to snoop, she shouldn’t have handed him her things and allowed for him to have ample time alone with said things.

Tav was quick to come back, she didn’t even bother taking her bag back from him when she sat down. Sweet, trusting thing that she was.

“How you’ve been?” she asked and reached for her glass of water.

“Good. Won the case, quite predictably. The other guy’s lawyer was completely out of his depth.”

Astarion didn’t even look up from his phone as he said that. Tav wasn’t even annoyed. He’s been like this as long as she’s known him. For all intents and purposes, he appeared to be disinterested and careless, but actually Astarion noticed much more about others than he ever let on and could even be quite sweet, on a very, very rare occasion.

She was glad that their friendship survived over the years, even if they only met up for brunch once a month. She would like to see more of him, but with how busy Astarion was, it was frankly quite a miracle that he had deemed her important enough to meet up with any regularity.

Astarion and brunch, who would have thought that he would even entertain the thought of something so mundane?

When Tav first met Astarion all those years ago, they were all dirt-poor students, roommates trying to get by. Actually, she was still eyeballs-deep in student debt, unlike Mr. Big Shot lawyer, who was doing very well for himself evidentially.  

“How about you, dearest? Anything exciting happen lately?” Astarion questioned.

Tav knew what he was alluding to and was quite prepared to lie through her teeth. Because her latest attempt at a relationship was not going well, but she would never admit it to Astarion. She didn’t need his ‘I-told-you-so’ smirk.

“Good, good.”

Astarion scoffed and rolled his eyes at her woefully inadequate attempt at lying. And to him, out of all people. He did not buy it. Because he knew exactly what Tav looked like when she was actually excited about someone.

“Thought as much. That’s why I went ahead and dumped him for you.”

“Excuse me?!”

She noticed that the phone in his hands was not actually his.

“You cheeky bugger, I can’t believe you swiped my phone and managed to unlock it! And who gave you the right to end my relationship, hm?”

“Tav, two pity fucks because for some reason you were feeling charitable do not count as a relationship. I did you a favour.”

“You’re the one to talk. You’ve slept with tons of people for much less than puppy dog eyes!” she shot back.

“If you are referring to the time Gale and I got shitfaced and got it on in the public garden, let me assure you, the stars that night were beautiful. It was a magical, unforgettable evening.”

“Sure it was,” she laughed and grabbed her phone.

She couldn’t stay mad at him for long and he knew it. Besides, he was right. She wasn’t that into her now ex. She only went out with him because he kept asking and she thought that it wouldn’t hurt to give it a go and make it work. Because, truth be told, it’s been a long, long, long while since she’s been on a date, so she thought that a nice dinner with a conventionally nice, smart, attractive person was not a bad thing for her.

Their order arrived. Full breakfast and coffee for Tav, just black coffee for Astarion. He sipped it slowly, enjoying the way Tav dug into her food with gusto.

“Mmm… this is awesome. Sure you’re not having any?”

“Food? Here? You’ve got to be kidding me,” he grimaced. Even the coffee was foul. He could only imagine what the food was like.

“Yes, I know, I know. Your taste is way to refined to dine on something so greasy and disgusting.”

“Yes, because some of us actually have class.”

“I would throw my bacon at you, but it would be a waste of good food. Consider yourself lucky that this is delicious.”

Her attention back on her food, Astarion was free to look at her at his leisure. He knew Tav hated summer, she was no good with the heat. But he quite liked seeing her all sun-kissed, new freckles dotting her skin, hair swept up to bare her beautiful neck.

Astarion would never admit it even if he was threatened with decapitation, but he liked talking to her, watching her. Tav was probably the only person he actually enjoyed spending time with nowadays, but it was not always so.

Astarion was not very fond of Tav when they first met. Actually, that was an understatement. She annoyed him constantly, especially when she was trying to be friendly and welcoming. He could not understand what her deal was. In his experience, people were never nice just for the sake of it. There were always strings attached. So, her doing the whole sweet girl-next-door act left him entirely unimpressed and irritated. If only he could afford the rent, he would not even bother with roommates. As things were, he had to put up with two.

Except over the years he noticed that her kindness was not reserved to the few that she could possibly gain something from. Tav was helpful, thoughtful and empathic towards everyone, which immediately drew people to her. He suddenly found himself a part of a friendship group which gravitated towards Tav. Them liking her was definitely the only thing they initially had in common.

Whilst Astarion enthusiastically threw himself into his studies during the day and even more enthusiastically enjoyed recreational activities with different partners after hours, he gradually came to appreciate her and was glad that Tav became something of a constant in his life. She was a clueless, naïve, sweet fool, but she was his fool. Not that she was stupid, she was quite intelligent, but rather too wide-eyed and hopeful for this world. People like that did not go far and Astarion was planning on going very far and making the most of every opportunity, no matter the cost.

At one point, sometime between cramming for his finals and helping her study for hers, Astarion toyed with the idea of sleeping with Tav. It wasn’t the first time he thought of it. Over the years, he entertained the idea in passing on several occasions with the level of enthusiasm one has when selecting a sandwich for lunch. That is, the same lukewarm interest that most of his conquests would receive. But over the years, Tav wormed her way into his heart. She was not just an annoyance, not just a roommate. They became friends, even if Tav was the one doing all the heavy lifting when it came to maintaining the said friendship. She was just always there and Astarion was very much taking her presence in his life for granted.

However, the realization that their studies and therefore time together would soon be over made the elf see Tav in a different light for the first time. And so he wondered, if she wasn’t just a roommate, just a friend… Whatever in the world could she be?

If anything, Tav was quite beautiful. Not staggeringly gorgeous, like some of his ex-lovers, but very pretty in her own way. Astarion was sure that if they had sex, it would be a fantastic experience for both of them. Especially for Tav. She would actually get an experienced lover unselfishly fulfilling her needs for once. But then he thought of something that he cared squat about when it came to others and very much when it came to her.

Tav’s feelings.

She wasn’t a prude, but she didn’t just sleep around for the sake of it. She would probably start reflecting on what it meant for their friendship, worry that it was going to screw everything up. And that was why Astarion didn’t go through with it. Although he was really tempted.

Predictably, they drifted apart after graduation. Predictably, it was his fault. He was the one who constantly cancelled plans and didn’t turn up when she invited him and others to outings. Tav went on to get her teaching certification and he continued on his path of becoming a lawyer. He worked hard and partied harder. His life was a kaleidoscope of faces he couldn’t remember, except those that he regularly spent time with for work.

It was fun, great fun, such great fun, he kept telling himself. It was exactly what he wanted. To take the big city by storm and make it his. To get away from his past, from the memory of scrimping and saving, living in borderline poverty as a child. Feeling helpless as his mother worked every waking moment to provide for his future, them constantly worrying about making ends meet. That was why he made damn sure that no one knew anything of his past. And that meant detaching himself from everyone who knew him before he became Astarion Ancunín the successful lawyer, who was now well on his way to getting a promotion and yet another pay rise.

A little under a decade passed. Astarion rarely gave Tav or any of his former friends much thought. Then, one balmy summer afternoon he saw her in the busy city street, surprisingly talking to Halsin, the environmental lawyer he went up against a few times, out of all people. Astarion felt as if someone sucker punched him. Stunned, Astarion found himself stopping abruptly, not paying attention to people bumping into him. Tav was wearing a pretty sundress that bared her delicate collarbones and shoulders, the light fabric whispering against her skin, her unbound hair framing her face. And then she laughed at something Halsin said, a genuine, full laugh, and smacked his biceps playfully. Astarion felt a wave of something that he could not quite recognise. Another, better emotionally equipped person, would recognise the feeling as longing. To Astarion it was just an unpleasant, hollow feeling that he was quite unfamiliar with.

Whatever it was, it compelled him to cross the street and start walking in her direction. Tav was just turning around when she collided with Astarion, which may or may not have been on purpose on his part.

“Ouch, sorry. I wasn’t- Astarion?”

He inwardly preened that she recognised him immediately. Clearly, he was just that unforgettable.

“Hello, darling,” he practically purred, steadying her gently.

“Wow, it’s been years! Fancy bumping into you like that, literally,” Tav chuckled, feeling quite drab next to him. “Well, I would love to catch up, but you probably have some place to be, all dressed up like that.”

Ah, that was true. He did have some place to be. He always had some important meeting, or trial, or party to go to. But that meant letting her go and that was definitely unacceptable.

“Actually, I am quite free this afternoon. How about getting some brunch?”

“Brunch? Really? Didn’t think you’d be the type, Ancunín,” she teased him a warm smile. “But sure, why not.”

He immediately regretted suggesting brunch, out of all things. But he was never very good coming up with something when put on the spot. And yes, brunch was something boring married couples and the elderly enjoyed, but there they were, walking down the busy street and into the nearest café.

And that was how it became their monthly thing. Meeting up for brunch on Sundays.

Another male, who was better versed at recognizing his own feelings, would have probably just asked Tav out by now. Like on an actual proper date at a nice venue rather than sticking to their monthly meeting as a pathetic excuse for spending time with her. But that was the crux of the problem. Astarion may have had a wealth of knowledge when it came to casual flings and friendly fucks, but he had absolutely zero clue as to how to be in a relationship.

And by gods he wanted to! It was embarrassing how much he wanted to. He wanted to wake up next to her every day, to have her move in with him, to have Tav around constantly, give her presents, see her face light up beautifully, whisper sweet nothings into her ear as they got lost in each other. You know, all that sappy crap that couples found so endearing. He wanted all that sappy crap.

But to get to that stage, he had to actually make the first move. He was kind of hoping to entice Tav into propositioning him first, but she was either incredibly dense, bless her heart, or just pretending not to notice that he was constantly flirting with her. Though perhaps it could have something to do with him parading a staggering number of lovers in front of her over the years. He admitted to himself that if tables were turned, he too would doubt that the other person’s interest was sincere.

And so Astarion decided to go for it and ask Tav out. Because he couldn’t stand the thought of her going on yet another date with someone who was not him.

He cleared his throat. “Tav?”

“Hm?” she looked up from her food, half-way done. It was truly impressive how she could devour huge amounts in no time at all.

“I have this thing that I’m supposed to attend, a charity gala dinner of sorts. Would you like to come?”

“You mean to tell me that Astarion Ancunín can’t get a date for the evening?” she teased. “I find that very hard to believe. But sure, sounds like fun,” she smiled, looking quite excited.

He deflated a little. Because whilst it was a ‘yes’ on the outing, it seemed like Tav thought he meant going together as friends. He sighed into his cup. It would have to do for now. At least he would have someone he actually wanted to talk to throughout the evening. And he was curious what Tav would choose to wear. He rather hoped it was something backless.

On Monday, Shadowheart stopped by his office, knocking on the open door to get his attention.

“Got a minute?”

“For you, dearest? Of course.”

She walked up closer to his desk, delicate heels clicking on the hardwood floor and then the sound being swallowed up by the expensive carpet.

“I heard you are bringing Tav along with you to that charity thing,” she began slowly.

Astarion scowled and took his gold rimmed glasses off. They were non-prescription, as everything about him including his eyesight was perfect, but he rather liked how sophisticated he looked when wearing them.

“And how, pray tell, do you know that?” he drawled, annoyed to have Shadowheart out of all people find out about his plans.

“Astarion,” Shadowheart gave a longsuffering sigh that was meant to show that she doubted his intelligence, “I know you don’t pay attention to anyone unless there is something to gain, but you do remember that I used to hang out with you and Tav at uni? Of course, not,” she scoffed at the blank look he gave her. “You didn’t even recognise me when I first started working here.”

Astarion vaguely remembered that there was a goth chic hanging out with Tav from time to time, but he was otherwise uninterested in anyone that he wasn’t involved with. He barely said ten words to Shadowheart back then. Her being snarky and mean should have been reason enough for them to hit it off instantly, but not so. Years later, when Shadowheart first started at the company, the silvery blonde hair, the professional-looking pencil skirts and heels, and the much softer manner with which she carried herself were polar opposite to the way she looked when they were in their early twenties.

“Get to your point,” he huffed, really not in the mood for whatever Shadowheart had to say.

“Look, I like Tav. She’s not like you and me. We are pragmatic, narcissistic, ruthless,” she accentuated her words by closing the file he was looking through sharply in his face. “Which makes us perfect at what we do. But, for some reason, Tav seems to like you well enough to keep putting up with you as a friend. But do you really think that you two are on the same page about what is going to happen once you bring her home?”

“Ah, yes. The relationship advice that I didn’t ask for from the person who is as terrible at relationships as I am. Good talk,” he opened the file again to signal that their conversation was over.

“I’m serious. You can’t just screw around with Tav. She is the type that is for keeps and shit.”

“Tsk, I see Karlach’s potty mouth is rubbing off on you,” he admonished the half-elf with a smirk.

“Perhaps in more ways than one,” Shadowheart all but purred.

“Do not need the sordid details and to save you the trouble, never will in the future.”

“Oh really?” she raised her eyebrows in surprise, flipping her long hair over her shoulder, “I thought you lived to gossip. When did you become such a bore?”

“Since I had this terrible, headache inducing environmental case thrown on my table,” Astarion rubbed his temples, trying unsuccessfully to fight back a yawn.

“Halsin?”

“Who else. As if it is possible to save that fucking lake for those damn ducks. What is it with that man and ducks?”

She chortled. “Good luck with that. Who knew that he would be so proficient at what he does, right? Wasn’t he the one who was caught streaking couple nights before his graduation? I think we were first year students at the time.”

“It was him, shouting something along the lines of being one with nature. Nice ass though.”

“Nice ass indeed,” she agreed. “But we are digressing. Don’t just sleep with Tav to have yet another notch on your bedpost. If you want to try to make it work with her, go right ahead. Gods know she’s had a crush on you long enough. But if not, well… Expect to be in for a world of hurt. Karlach will hound you and impale you with one of those new swords she bought for her weapon collection she thinks she snuck past me a couple of days ago.”

“You are living together?” Astarion actually looked up, giving her his full undivided attention.

“So it seems,” Shadowheart smiled, a proper, genuine soft smile which rarely graced her face. “Think about what I said. And don’t do anything rash.”

After she left, Astarion tried to focus on his computer screen and the papers in front of him, but his thoughts kept drifting to what Shadowheart said earlier.

Tav has had a crush on him for years. Surely not! He would be the first to know if she had feelings for him, right? And what confused him the most that instead of being elated, relieved that she wanted him, he felt a sick kind of dread.

Shadowheart was right. What was he even thinking? He was not ready for an honest-to-gods relationship! Especially with someone like Tav! Someone he cared about too much to just say ‘thanks, but no thanks’ if something went wrong.

He groaned and massaged his temples again. Why did he even ask her? He couldn’t just cancel now, could he? Although… why couldn’t he? It would be easy enough. Make up an excuse of some sort. Tav would probably forgive him. One could hope.

That same evening there was a pounding on his apartment door. Shadowheart was furious, that much he could tell just by checking the doorcam.

“Can I help you?” he opened the door and Shadowheart stormed right in.

“Cut the crap, Ancunín!” she snapped, eyes blazing and clearly ready for a confrontation. “Tav called me. Apparently, you haven’t the balls to actually admit that you like her, so you just cancelled the date!”

“It wasn’t a date,” he said pathetically, sounding like a petulant child even to his own ears.

“That’s what she said too. That it was just you two going as friends,” she mocked. “So, tell me, what set you off? Was it me telling you that she likes you? Is that it?”

“That has nothing to do with this!” he bristled, his hackles raised. “I simply decided that I don’t want to take anyone.”

“Sure you did,” she rolled her eyes at the obvious lie.

Astarion chose this moment to regroup, sensing that Shadowheart had one over him. And under no circumstances was the obstinate elf stooping so low as to admit that he was afraid of dealing with feelings. Letting out a breath, he ran his fingers through his snowy curls, letting his lips curl upwards into a smirk. It was a familiar act, comforting in a way. Playing the rake has served him well over the years.

“Besides, why would I even want Tav in that way? I could have anyone, literally anyone, just like that. I could have you right here, right on the floor, right now, if I wanted to.”

“Excuse me?” She scowled and crossed her arms over her chest, unimpressed by his insinuation.

“You heard me. In fact, I think that’s why you are really here,” he took a purposeful, predatory step towards her, taking his glasses off and giving her a slow, practiced smile. He tilted his head forward a little, letting a rogue curl fall out of place, dropping his voice to a sensual murmur. “Want me to throw you one, Sha-dow-heart?”

Her eyes narrowed into slits. In hindsight, perhaps challenging her was not one of his brightest ideas. But then again, how many of his snap decisions were?

“Do it,” she lessened the distance between them, so they were standing almost nose to nose. “I said do it. Throw me one, Astarion.”

“Excuse me? Wha- what about Karlach?” he stuttered, panicking and unsure of what to do next.

“Let’s just say we have an understanding, of sorts. So come on then. Right here, right now, on the floor.” Shadowheart trailed a delicate finger up and down his chest, bringing her other hand up to pop the top button on her shirt open.

“What do you say?” she murmured, looking up at him through her long, fluttery lashes.

Shadowheart was a picture and she knew it. There was no way any living, breathing creature would turn her down, especially when her intent was all-too-clear.

Astarion gulped. “I- I think you should go.”

“I knew it!” she jabbed him hard with a manicured finger, making the elf wince. “I knew that you were full of shit! And you know why? Because you like Tav, you clueless idiot! So do yourself a favour, stop being a fool and call her! Take her to the party, don’t take her to the party. But tell Tav how you really feel or I swear to gods, I will give her number to everyone who has been clamouring to ask her out. I have a list a mile long of people who would happily sweep her off her feet the way that she actually deserves! Your move, Ancunín.”

And with that she stormed out, slamming the door shut for good measure.

Astarion did not call Tav. Not that evening, not the day after, and not the day after that.

He hated how much of a coward he was. And Shadowheart was right, Tav deserved much more than his half-arsed attempts at asking her out.

On Friday evening, Shadowheart stopped by his office before leaving for the day and sat down on the sofa opposite his desk, crossing her shapely legs as she looked at him with an unreadable expression.

“Halsin asked Tav out, you know. And she said yes. They are meeting for drinks tonight, probably right about now.”

Astarion did not look up from the papers strewn across his desk. “Thank you for that information, not that I asked.”

“So I take it that you don’t care?”

“Not in the slightest,” he waved her question off, as if it was completely inconsequential and unimportant, lifted the cup of coffee off his table and took a sip. He definitely would have to pull an all-nighter, with the workload being absolutely impossible.

“Good, good. That’s what I thought too. Which is why I told Tav that it wasn’t slutty at all to go all the way on the first date.”

He choked on his coffee.

She quirked an eyebrow and waited a beat for her words to sink in. “And then, being a good friend, I made sure that Tav had three types of condoms in her bag. Halsin looks like a big boy, but you never know what size they might actually need.”

Astarion could not reply because he was still trying to cough up his lungs, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes.

“But never mind that, I’m sure you have a marvelous evening ahead of you,” Shadowheart smirked, getting up and smoothing the front of her pencil skirt out. “I, for one, am meeting up with Karlach in an hour, so have a nice weekend.” With that she walked out of his office, her heels clicking in a way that could only be described as smug.

Astarion told himself that it didn’t matter to him if she slept with Halsin. Hells, it didn’t matter if she slept with half the city! It was none of his business. He had their monthly brunches to look forward to. The next one would be in a couple of weeks, or 26 days, or 624 hours. Not that he was counting.

And that was how Astarion found himself standing across the street from the place that he heard Tav go on about. He guessed correctly, she was indeed at that exact restaurant.

Astarion scowled as he saw that she actually made a real effort for this date, looking absolutely delicious, if he said so himself.

He could have taken her there. It could be him sitting across from Tav now. Reaching out to wipe a bit of sauce from the corner of her mouth with his napkin, she really was a messy pup sometimes, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. Leaning forward to-

“Oh, hells no,” Astarion hissed, watching as Halsin leaned forward to whisper something in Tav’s ear, making her blush prettily.

“You deserve it, you know.”

He jumped at the familiar voice. Karlach was looking at him with a smirk, Shadowheart standing next to her tiefling.

“What are you doing here?”

“On no, Shadowheart, Astarion’s been discovered!” Karlach stage whispered. “Spying on a person on her date like some kind of creep.”

“And you two? Don’t tell me you just happened to stroll past this particular restaurant at this exact time, hm?” Astarion mocked, his back rigid as he placed his hands on his hips.

“Oh, we are nosy, alright” Karlach admitted readily with a shrug. “But we are rooting for this date to be a success. And I bet Shadowheart that you would turn up. Pay up, baby!”

Shadowheart grumbled and got her phone out, sending the money to Karlach. “You see, I had some faith in you. Should have known better.”

“Well, thank you very fucking much,” he bowed with a flourish and turned away from the two. “Now if you two excuse me, I have a date to crash.”

“What do you think you are doing? There is no way you are going there!” Shadowheart hissed, grasping his forearm and making him squirm. The woman was deceptively delicate, holding him in place easily with a vice-like grip.

“And why the hells not?” Astarion spat, finally managing to push her away with his other arm.

“Because Karlach here will throttle you if you make one step towards that restaurant.”

“Fine,” he grumbled. He survived this long by knowing to pick his battles wisely. He could perhaps take Shadowheart in a scuffle, but Karlach was a different matter entirely. Yet, he was not above being a petty bitch about it.

“Shadowheart wanted me to throw her one,” he hissed spitefully.

“Yes, she told me about that conversation you had,” Karlach grinned, completely unfazed by the hostile looks the two elves were giving each other. “Because my baby always tells me everything.”

“Baby does,” Shadowheart nodded without looking away from Astarion but squeezed Karlach’s hand, her shoulders relaxing somewhat.

“Ew, talking in third person,” he sneered. “It’s such a disgusting, coupley thing,”

“How would you know? Not exactly an expert,” Shadowheart countered quickly, making him scowl.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” Karlach patted Astarion’s silver curls good-naturedly. She really did feel sorry for him, firmly believing that the elf was capable of getting his head out of his ass if given enough incentive. “Whatever happens now, happens. You missed your chance.”

“Shadowheart? Is that you?”

The three froze as they saw that Tav was walking towards them, smiling broadly.

Shit.

She saw them. The three weirdos stalking their friend whilst she was on a date. Not their proudest moment.

Tag list: @ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale, @clazberryk

[acourtofthought]

Regarding Lucien’s scars. I think it’s basically a headcanon in the fandom that Lucien still has the scars on his back from being whipped, but if those are present in canon too, that could be interesting. Howeverrrr… the facial scar must be kind of a big deal for Lucien. Amarantha attacked him 50ish years ago and then within a few days she organized that masquerade ball “in Lucien’s honor” - the masked theme was a scheme to help him basically hide what she did to his face. Then the masks were plastered to the faces of everyone in Spring Court because Tamlin didn’t accept to sleep with Amarantha. So here’s Lucien, hiding his scars for 50 years no matter how uncomfortable the whole mask situation may have been… but now his facial scar that he cannot hide anywhere (unlike Azriel’s hands) is just in full view for anyone who looks at him. I think there is no question about it. He must be self conscious about it, especially since he thinks Elain is the most beautiful female he has ever seen and she doesn’t reciprocate anything yet. People have been writing about it here on tumblr recently but I really hope SJM explores Lucien’s character from this perspective too. I assume he must feel very inadequate compared to Elain. She has so much (family, friends, connected to the IC, safety and security, beauty, etc.), whereas Lucien refers to himself as a whole lot of nothing. He doesn’t have a home or even a court, he’s basically all alone in the fae world, his closest allies are two humans who so far don’t have much power or influence in Prythian. I assume he is probably also unhappy with his looks after such a traumatic experience. I hope SJM explores this, I think that would be a really cool addition to Elucien’s healing journey. Even though Lucien is quite snarky and cocky outwardly, his inner monologue seems very self conscious. Ahhh SJM give us the angstttttt

I AGREE!!!!!! I think while there are sincere aspects of Lucien's personality that are (hahaha, I just accidentally typed snocky which was my brain getting confused on whether I wanted to type snarky or cocky first) snarky and cocky, I also feel it's a default mechanism too. Lucien is known to take care in his appearance and he is aware of appearances. Even in book once he was a bit of a fashionista, commenting on how Feyre's tunic wasn't as pretty as a dress and being amazed at how positively fae she looked when she did finally put one on. There's also this: Lucien said, "True. But indulge me: you're a human woman, and yet you'd rather eat hot coals than sit here longer than necessary. Ignoring this" - he waved a hand at the metal eye and brutal scar on his face-" surely we're not so miserable to look at. Lucien must be constantly aware of others looking at him and I'm guessing he's never sure if it's about the eye or if his scars are unappealing to them. For someone who does care about appearances, whose job it is to talk to High Lords and make friends to be a successful emissary, there is definitely an inner discomfort he's trying to brush off through his nonchalance and jokes about his appearance. I think you're right. Elain is beautiful to the point that people talk. Eris somehow heard across courts that Lucien's mate is a real beauty. She had heiresses jealous of her at barely thirteen. Her mother commented that if her beauty held, she'd be able to secure them a decent match on the marriage market (Elain was 11). So Lucien comes along and not only is he given this super special, sacred bond with her but she turns out to be the most beautiful female he'd ever seen all while knowing that she's in love with someone else. And there he is, with no home, no family name, a scar running down his face and one eye. I would take Lucien in a second and we know that many in the ACOTAR world reference his good looks but you can see how he would struggle with his appearance. You can see how Elain literally took his breath away and she did not seem effected by him (I imagine we'll find out that wasn't the truth in her POV but it's how he perceived it at the time). He thinks she doesn't want him or need him and I definitely think we're going to find that he's been feeling very insecure about her perception of his physical appearance.

[gauloiseblue]

Blue Velvet

(König × Reader × Horangi)

War isn't easy to get through, and the importance of keeping the soldiers' morals is as crucial as their ratios. They need distractions as much as they need food, and the higher ups are forced to provide it to them. It should be a bare minimum, since they subjugated them to fight their war. But they're a bunch of pigs, of course they'd rather keep the money to themselves.

They did give them a show—twice a week, but it felt inadequate. They only call a shrieking woman, with equally loud music to entertain them.

It's appalling to him, and he scoffs at the thrumming beat from the tent, where the singer—if you can call her a singer—screams her tune. The soldiers would whistle at her, stretching their hands to touch her, and she'd playfully evade them. It feels animalistic, vulgar, and he scoffs everytime the music starts. He'd walk to the opposite side, while the soldiers flock to the tent.

He sometimes found the Russian agent by the woods, and they'd sit in silence while the rowdy show filled in in the background. Though he prefers to be left alone, it's a better option than the crowded tent.

They talk when it's necessary, but most of the time they keep their thoughts to themselves. Nikto would stare at the woods, or anywhere else, really. It doesn't matter, since his mind isn't here.

He thought it'd stay that way, until Horangi told him to come.

"It's not the loud American slag," He explained to him, "Trust me, you'll like her."

He was vexed when he dragged him along, but it quickly changed once they got into their seats.

It's not as crowded as usual, and he can hear the soldiers murmur behind him. Some of them have a curious tone, but some of them are derisive. He didn't understand the sentiment, until the lights are dimmed.

And there you stand. On the stage, with the floodlight shines on you.

You were cold, aloof. And there's something delicate in the way you stood. Though it's only a brief moment, before the music plays softly.

As if lured by the tune, you step into the light and sing.

She wore blue velvet

Bluer than velvet was the night

Softer than satin was the light

From the stars

The murmurs begin to cease, as you sing the gentle ode.

She wore blue velvet

Bluer than velvet were her eyes

Warmer than May, her tender sighs

Love was ours

He holds his breath, as the flutter of your voice reaches his ear.

Ours, a love I held tightly

Feeling the rapture grow

Like a flame burning brightly

But when she left gone was the glow of

His friend glances at him, and a smirk spreads on his lips. He sees it from the corner of his eye, but he couldn't care less.

Blue velvet

But in my heart there'll always be

Precious and warm a memory through the years

And I still can see blue velvet through my tears

"Told you you'd like her."

He stares at his friend, before he states a warning.

"Don't act like you know me." He hissed.

Horangi lifts his hands lazily, as he returns to watch the stage.

She wore blue velvet

But in my heart there'll always be

Precious and warm a memory through the years

And I still can see blue velvet through my tears

"You know," He started, while his eyes stayed on your figure, "I wouldn't watch her if she's not pretty, but you gotta admit that she's more than just a pretty face." He took a glance at him, "She makes you feel… things, doesn't she?"

"What do you want?"

His voice is enough to convey the message, but his friend doesn't flinch away. He pushes through instead.

"Help me capture the bird, and I'll give you half of it."

The chair screeches when he stands as he glares at him, before he marches out of the room.

His friend's eyes burn holes into his back, and he grits his teeth at the prying gaze. He hates it, he hates that he's seen through him.

[cultpastorkevin]

Dependent Personality Disorder, Kevin Day, & the Edgar Allan Ravens

brought to you by an ex cult pastor w/ crippling mental issues

well let’s just jump right into it ngl (also if I miss anything or forget something give me a pass I have amnesia and a one track mind so I definitely missed stuff)

Okay so the whole Ravens always have a partner, never go anywhere alone, if one fails you both pay, etc. I’ve been thinking about this for weeks and I don’t see it broken down and discussed at length enough, so imma try to do that from a mixed personal experience & psychology perspective

The fact Jean, Neil and Kevin have all stated in books and in the extra content that not having that presence next to them was devastating (much less so for Neil okay he didn’t spend fucking years there); Nora has also talked about how Ravens are basically unable to function if left alone; you can’t send them to the store alone or leave them places or expect them to be capable of completing tasks without their other half; TSC reeks of Jean having to learn how to function without a double and it’s gonna be a trainwreck for Jeremy bc how the fuck can Jean be this old and not feel able to have a room on his own anyways—

What is Dependent Personality Disorder?

The DSM-5 refers to DPD as a pervasive and excessive need to be taken care of, which leads to submissive and clinging behavior and fears of separation. It is characterized by excessive fear and anxiety. DPD begins by early adulthood, is present in a variety of contexts, and is associated with inadequate functioning. Symptoms can include anything from extreme passivity, devastation, or helplessness when relationships end; avoidance of responsibilities; and severe submission.

According to the DSM-5, the disorder is indicated by at least five of the following factors:

has difficulty making everyday decisions without an excessive amount of advice and reassurance from others.

needs others to assume responsibility for most major areas of their life.

has difficulty expressing disagreement with others because of fear of loss of support or approval.

has difficulty initiating projects or doing things on their own (because of a lack of self-confidence in judgment or abilities rather than a lack of motivation or energy).

goes to excessive lengths to obtain nurturance and support from others, to the point of volunteering to do things that are unpleasant.

feels uncomfortable or helpless when alone because of exaggerated fears of being unable to care for themselves.

urgently seeks another relationship as a source of care and support when a close relationship ends.

is unrealistically preoccupied with fears of being left to take care of themselves.

Since I only need 5, and I don’t want to bore everyone to death, I’ll just do 5.

needs others to assume responsibility for most major areas of their life

Kevin spent well, basically his entire life having everything picked out for him by others. Exy was chosen for him. Where he lived, when he slept, what he ate and when was chosen. Riko and Tetsuji dictated his every fucking step up until he left. Kevin didn’t learn anything he wasn’t supposed to learn and therefore automatically expected others to do it for him because that’s what he was taught to do. Kevin’s only skill in life is Exy, which means he doesn’t have any other skills (well he does, he just doesn’t think they’re useful or important). Ravens are taught to be dependent on each other because without each other, they’re not whole or a person; they’re dehumanized until they begin to assign responsibility to someone they think is more equipped for it, is better for it, which is usually an authority figure (in this case, those figures are Riko and Tetsuji). Tetsuji knew exactly what he was doing by creating the psychological mindfuck of an inter-dependent group that is the Ravens. He took a bunch of young adults, gave them a god, and then helped that god beat them into numb dissociation until they couldn’t think for themselves and were even afraid to.

has difficulty expressing disagreement with others because of fear of loss of support or approval

Reminder that DPD is prevalent in people who have been excessively abused and it’s also characterized by extreme anxiety. For people like Kevin and the Ravens, expressing anything other than what Riko and Tetsuji wanted could get them killed; it wasn’t just about being terrified of disapproval or protection, it was because losing anything from the group meant you were gonna get hurt (usually badly). Jean was literally waterboarded for shits and giggles, you think Riko is gonna take someone saying no very well (Neil Josten drove him insane I can tell u that much)? Ravens have a hive mind mentality because a hive mind keeps them alive and safe. Kevin had a hive mind when he was with Riko, and I’d argue he still had the remnants of one when he was with the Foxes. Riko breaking his hand was the only thing that broke him out of it, and even then, it barely did. Kevin only started mouthing off to Riko when Neil (bless his scrungly ass) started shaking Riko’s brain like a maraca. He had someone he could depend on in those situations because, again, Ravens always do things together. Kevin wouldn’t fucking dream of shitting on Riko at Kathy’s show by himself. Kevin spent 10+ years at Evermore with his sanity hanging on the hook of a batshit adoptive brother whose approval or disapproval would dictate if he was allowed to sleep. So yeah, I’d say Kevin had a violent need to always express agreement and do everything Riko wanted whether he liked it or not because the anxiety and terror of not doing so outweighed any sense of self preservation he could have. That ties in w the next one.

goes to excessive lengths to obtain nurturance and support from others, to the point of volunteering to do things that are unpleasant

Riko utilized abuse in a lot of ways; Nora put in her extra content that he had other Ravens rape Jean; imo, those Ravens most likely didn’t fucking want to, but going to excessive lengths to stay within his approval and be safe? Yeah, they were gonna do it. Tetsuji and Riko also make the Ravens never miss practice or any other shit they want them to do, regardless of the state they’re in. Which means you’re going to practice when you’ve been raped the night before; it means you’re going to practice after getting butchered all night by your other half, etc. Anyways; when Kevin works with the Foxes, he repeatedly does the opposite and basically throws a fit if someone steps on court that isn’t in shape to. This begs the eye raiser that he didn’t want those things happening at Evermore, but he did them anyways because his need for approval and the anxiety of not doing so, outweighed the fact he hated doing it. He was so dependent on Riko and staying close that he was pretty willing to toss anyone and everyone under the bus to meet expectations even if they left a nauseating pit in his stomach. Doing unpleasant things for the person you’re attached to is hard, but their praise and approval after the actions erase all previous anxieties, which then fuels a broken cycle of seeking out that approval and continuing to engage in unpleasant actions out of fear of not recieving that pending approval afterwards. It’s hard to explain succinctly the mindfuck DPD causes your thoughts to be like when you have it.

urgently seeks another relationship as a source of care and support when a close relationship ends

Kevin lost Riko. You know what he gets next? Fucking Andrew. I don’t even know if I need to explain this one because Kevin’s dependency on Andrew is so prevalent and excruciatingly obvious throughout the whole series lmao. Kevin ain’t gonna admit it but he relies on Andrew like a starving man relies on garbage (no offense Andrew). Kevin’s duo dependency with Riko was shattered to its core and guess what idiot he latches onto to fill the void? Andrew ofc. I think out of everyone, Andrew is probably the healthiest until Neil comes along (still think it should’ve been a polycule but I digress).

Riko’s obsessiveness and possessiveness with Kevin was crippling to Kevin and left him without the ability to exist without a buffer. Andrew’s apathetic ass and explicit understanding of consent is needed to balance out Riko’s emotional instability and disregard for Kevin’s autonomy. I would go so far as to say it was dependency that forced Kevin to become more independent because Andrew wasn’t going to sit on his ass and wait for Kevin to figure it out or heal. Kevin only struggled into some form of functionality out of what I personally see as a crippling people pleasing need to be useful and that came from being dependent on those around him. He became semi functional (I use this so vaguely bc that man would not be functional in the real world) out of necessity and obligation to those around him, not because he actually healed or processed his shit.

Ignoring your own issues to meet expectations of the one(s) you’re dependent on is stereotypical avoidance and signs of people pleasing and also it’s a trauma response. Kevin quite literally just went “yeah well I have some problems but I’m going to push those aside bc nothing else matters besides Exy” and then proceeded for the entire series to use Exy, Neil, and Andrew as ways to try to avoid his trauma history. He’s kinda insane for that but also I get it, because placing your trauma lower than something else and then in turn obsessing over something or someone helps you compartmentalize and pseudo-function until you eventually snap and have a massive meltdown. Another thing is that when you’re living in an abusive environment you can’t afford those meltdowns. I like think that after all the shit happened in AFTG, Kevin just lost his shit for a period of time because it’s a very reasonable trauma response in victims for once you’re finally safe, you just shatter from all the pressure you’ve been avoiding in yourself. It’s only after you shatter that you can heal, and you can’t do that unless you’re in a space that you’re allowed to. And Tetsuji kept his Ravens in a headspace where they couldn’t.

feels uncomfortable or helpless when alone because of exaggerated fears of being unable to care for themselves

Ngl I’ve kinda already covered aspects of this but I just wanna reiterate what Nora said abt this specifically in her extra content that “Kevin is the one who warns Jeremy he (Jean) cannot go anywhere alone, “we Ravens don’t know how” and “Being able to go to class or the grocery store or the gym without any of his teammates in attendance is just—unfathomable” in regards to Jean Moreau’s transition into the Trojans. This is just kinda, explanatory. We’re talking about college age athletes who have been hazed and abused so much that the idea of going to a class alone isn’t even a concept to them; Kevin explicitly tells Jeremy that Ravens don’t know how to do things. They’re dependent on each other. Kevin is not only speaking to help Jean, but when he says “us Ravens” he’s including himself in that statement because he can’t either and he knows how hard it is to try to acclimate to suddenly being thrust into individuality when you haven’t had it in years. Unlike most of the Ravens, Kevin and Riko (and eventually Jean as well) grew up having that inter dependency made into a core personality trait. They hate each other and they love each other, their failures and wins depend on each other, one can’t breathe without the other suffering for it. At what point does trained and conditioned, and ultimately encouraged, dependent behavior turn into brainwashing and dehumanization until there’s nothing left of you but the one you’re dependent on?

Finally

I’m not saying Kevin Day or all of the Ravens have DPD; but what I am saying is that they have extreme traits at the least of it and it is entirely fucking reasonable to me that at least a few of them ended up with DPD or similar disorders because of the shit that happened to them in the Nest. People forget that trauma and adverse circumstances (especially from young ages like Kevin and Riko and Jean) can cause you to develop disorders or even mimic symptoms of disorders because those traumatic events caused reactions that are disordered behaviors. I feel if anything is to be nitpicked, it’s Kevin’s absolute bitchiness, because god he can be an asshole, and someone somewhere could argue because he has that antagonistic streak, DPD is entirely out of the question.

Unfortunately, the dichotomy exists of knowing when you can be bitchy and maintain submissiveness. Kevin probably learned where and when and to what extent he could tow that line when he lived in the Nest, whether it was taking out his anger and his anguish on other Ravens, on the court, or on the Foxes when he moved over. In my experience, my own explosive anger issues had to be portioned out, I had to know who I could do that to, be like that with. When and where was the correct time to lash out and when I was gonna get hit for it. Kevin isn’t stupid, he knew what Riko and Tetsuji were like. He also knew he had the upper hand in the power dynamic over the Raven’s on court. If he went for blood out of anger during practice, triggered by if Riko hurt him too much or took too much from him, other Ravens just had to take it, or worse, probably were encouraged to encourage the brutality.

All in all, I think Tetsuji created an absolute fucking labyrinth of a psychological warzone that both forced submission and rewarded dominance; it left lasting behavioral traits and triggered disorders that crippled Ravens, some for their entire lives. I wanna bet probably no former Raven went to therapy; the ones that got divvied up after the Nest closed probably were required to by their new teams, and they probably are the only generation that maybe were able to heal from it. In the extra content, Thea decided because Kevin could play again, “no harm no foul” on Riko’s end. If that’s not hivemind, culty, worshipper behavior, idk what is. That’s not a normal reaction, but it is a conditioned one.

[cocogrrrl]

four times kyle says he loves you, one time he actually does say it

kyle's not the biggest romantic in the world, but sometimes he unintentionally is as well.

kyle broflovski x gn!reader no cws wc: 1183

an: tooth-rottingly sweet! i have like four 3k+ word fics in my drafts right now so stay tuned for that if you're interested!

One.

Often, you’ll find yourself in bed at night alone. In the morning, you’ll feel the lack of warmth as well. Needless to say, your boyfriend, Kyle, had a hectic schedule. 

You try to stay up and wait for him. Sometimes, he does come, but rather late. Most of the time, however, you end up falling asleep first. 

You understood why, though. He wanted to work extra hours for extra pay to have some money to support himself, his interests, and your place. I mean, you did work too, but Kyle was rather nervous about having inadequate money. You tried to convince him that you two were alright, but he decided against that.

Recently, things were a little more different. You found him coming home earlier than usual and leaving work a little later. You were grateful, for sure, but what was going on?

“Hey, Kyle?” You called, both of you in bed. He hummed in response, turning his head to look at you. “I’ve noticed you’ve been going home early and leaving for work a lot later than usual. Did you get a promotion or something? Sorry if you told me, I may have forgotten…” You scratched the back of your neck, chuckling.

“Oh, I didn’t get promoted or anything,” he shuffled closer to you, giving you a peck on the cheek that sent tingles through your skull. “I just thought you were right. I shouldn’t be working myself up over nothing, you know?”

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” you said, your eyebrows scrunched up as you were visibly upset since you thought you hurt his feelings. “I was just worried you were overworking yourself.”

He chuckled at your kindness. “I mean that too, but don’t worry, love,” he whispered, pulling you by the chin and nudging his nose with yours. “Above all, I missed spending time with you.”

Two.

You were snuggled up against Kyle, your head on his shoulder as you both indulged in your favorite activity—watching shitty movies and laughing at how shitty they are.

Currently, you two were watching a horrible, low-budget remake of Kung Fu Panda. As your mind was being bored by the eye-numbing movie, you didn’t notice your body suddenly being pulled.

Before you could even process it, your lips were on Kyle’s. You were caught off guard, so you caught yourself holding onto him. The kiss was relatively short, though, but you two could feel the smiles on each others’ lips.

When you both pulled away, you asked, “What was that for?” You chuckled.

“Nothing, I just desperately needed to kiss you.”

Three.

You were lying down on the couch, mindlessly scrolling on your phone. Kyle was by the dining area right beside your living room, sorting out some important papers. To fill in the empty space of your room, Kyle figured to play some music to help him loosen up.

Out of nowhere, Michael Jackson’s Rock With You started to play. You were initially taken aback, surprised to hear this in Kyle’s playlist. However, you didn’t mind it one bit, even bopping your head to the intro.

Before the chorus, you felt something lean over you. It was Kyle with his hand stretched to you, offering a dance. You could tell he was embarrassed, seeing the blush scribbled all over his face. You knew Kyle wasn’t fond of dancing, so you were so about to take the offer.

You gladly took his hand in yours, gracefully leaping out of the couch as much as you could (which wasn’t that much, but the execution didn’t matter in this situation!). You engulfed yourself in his arms as you guys swayed to the beat, not caring how horrible either of you looked… gyrating?

Anyways, let’s just say that Kyle ended up getting distracted by the fun you two were having and finished the papers much later that night.

Four.

You quietly entered your shared apartment, taking off your shoes by the entrance then treading to your room with the lightest steps possible so as to not wake your boyfriend up—just in case he was already asleep.

You opened the door, hoping it wouldn’t creak. The lights were still open, though, Kyle’s head turning to the doorframe, which was where you stood.

“Hi, dove,” he greeted with a smile. “I got you something.” He rose from the sheets and reached into his closet, holding two shirts in his hands.

He handed the other shirt to you, exactly your size. The top was mostly plain white, but in the middle were two rats cuddling with a text over it saying, “me and my partner :3”.

You deeply remember what this shirt was referencing. You were showing Kyle a photo on your phone. The photo was exactly the one on the shirt. You said something about how silly it would be if you two had matching shirts with text above it saying “me and my boyfriend” or something written above.

Kyle originally dismissed the idea. He knew you were joking, but he stated that he wouldn’t know how to pair the shirt with his wardrobe. Honestly, neither did you if you were to have the shirt, but you’d find a way to make it work.

That’s why you were surprised to see him gifting you something he didn’t really like.

“I thought your idea was kinda cute, and I went ahead and had it printed.” He awkwardly chuckled, cringing at his weak skill with graphic design. Visuals and art were never his strongest suit. The shirt, though, looked quite adorable either way!

You quickly wrapped him in a hug. “I love it so much. Thanks, dear.” You felt all around giddy. Your senses were tingly and your smile couldn’t express just how happy you were.

Five.

It was around 6 PM. You and Kyle had spent a whole day at an amusement park. By now, the energy that you two had earlier had been completely burned out. So now, he and you were inside the capsule of a Ferris wheel.

You sat beside each other, wearing your matching rat-cuddling shirts, enjoying the silence between you. You were staring at the view before you as you rose higher and higher. You held onto a stuffed toy he won at a carnival game for you an hour or two ago. Kyle, however, wasn’t focused on the view you were dazed at. His eyes were only focused on you.

You felt his eyes pierce through you, even if you yourself couldn’t see it. You turned behind, looking at him “What is it, Kyle?”

“You’re so pretty. I don’t think you understand how much I love you.” He said mindlessly. He seemed shocked by what he said once the words registered in his mind.

You giggled at his words, pulling his face closer to yours by the jaw. It was enchanting to see him get lost at just the sight of you. “Oh, but I think I do.” You whispered against his lips, giving him a peck on it before you two exited the Ferris wheel, holding hands.