#self defense torch

[factzonemania]

The Amazing New Shockwave Torch Makes Bad Guys SH*T Their Pants In Terror! Click Here - https://sites.google.com/view/self-defense-shock-wave-torch/home

[matan4il]

To the Nonnie who sent me an ask in relation to Standing Together (Tumblr is being weird and swallowed your message, but I saw it), here is the vid you linked:

-> Okay, first, a rough translation of the Hebrew comment exchange featured in the vid:

Rula: Really, Muhammad? Children died today. Women. Displaced people. Not a word about 210 Palestinians who died during a rescue operation? We already have one Yuseph Haddad.

Muhammad: Really, Rula? 210 children and women died today? Unarmed? Only children and women? And if we're dealing with civilians... Not a word from you about the fact that hostages were held in the homes of civilians, by civilians? Don't lecture me.

Rula: Oy, you've completely lost it. Shame.

-> I'm not sure Standing Together is the biggest Jewish-Arab organization in Israel. Before Oct 7, it claimed to have reached a peak of 5,000 members, which out of a population of almost 10 million people is pretty negligible. And when practically every organization in Israel has both Jews and Arabs, including the freaking Israeli parliament (the Knesset), it just feels... weird to think there's nothing bigger than that. Then again, maybe when we talk specifically about an organization claiming to be political and to be serving the idea of Jewish-Arab solidarity, there isn't one with more registered members. Maybe.

But for example, the vid mentions an Israeli Arab activist called Yuseph Haddad, who's the CEO of an organization called "Together - Vouch for each other" (it corresponds with Jewish tradition, as the Hebrew word choice specifically echoes the Jewish phrase, "Kol Yisrael arevim ze la'ze" - all of Israel vouch for each other), which I know has both Jewish and Arab volunteers, though it puts Arabs at the forefront. IDK how many volunteers it has, but Haddad is actually one of the most beloved activists in Israel, people recognize him everywhere, he gets his own impression on Israel's most popular satire shows (performed by one of the show's Arab cast members, who's also one of Israel's most loved and recognized comedians), he got the honor of lighting one of the torches at Israel's Independence Day torches ceremony (seriously one of the greatest honor here), and I've seen some of his work with the next generation of Israeli Arabs. I also know that "Together" has worked with Yad Vashem to make educational content about the Holocaust more accessible for Arabic speakers. I find it hard to believe "Together" has less volunteers than ST does, but I don't have official numbers on them. Still, it's probably wise to keep in mind that ST's numbers are self reported.

-> BTW, this is also a response to a lovely Nonnie asking me what alternatives there are to Standing Together. "Together" has the mission of better connecting Arabs to Israeli society. They don't look away from criticizing Israel when it's needed, they do talk about where the state needs to do better, but on the basic level, they do talk about loving and embracing Israel. The way Haddad explains it, the recognition hit him when he was at the age to decide whether to volunteer for an IDF service or not, that the enemies of Israel are willing to kill Israeli Arabs in order to get to Israeli Jews, while the army is defined as the Israel Defense Forces, not Jews' Defense Forces, that it protects all Israeli civilians, and from there his connection was born and grew, and he tries to pass it on to other Israeli Arabs, and uplift and empower those who already feel it. He won't tell you there aren't issues or racism in Israel, but he does seem to believe that a cornerstone in overcoming those, is to build on the sense of shared fate we have here. "Together" isn't the only organization working in this direction, there are many more, working in various ways, but I don't think there's another that's as recognized, respected and liked by general Israeli society)

-> To the Nonnie who asked me about "A Land for All," I'm not sure if I'm the right person to answer this question, because I know one of the founding members of this movement in real life. He's a very nice person, honestly. He's a religious settler, born into that society, where most people are right wing, and are seen as violent, racist and extremist. I think painting any sector of society with a wide brush gets things wrong. The man I know certainly is none of those things, and from what he says and how I know him, he hated being seen that way, he wanted to break away from that perception of settlers. At the same time, he does love the place where he was born, he doesn't want those Jewish communities uprooted, and he also recognizes that Jews do deserve a state of their own (as well as Palestinians). "A Land for All - Two states, one homeland" was born from this duality. It's the idea that there will be two states, Jewish and Palestinian, that will exist by each other, but they'll both be a part of one confederation (one homeland), which will allow open borders for everyone within this union. So you seemingly don't deprive either side of self-determination, while still allowing Jews to live in the Judea and Samaria settlements, that current two state solutions would uproot, or return to Gaza, or move into any part of Hevron they'd like to (currently, Jews are only allowed to live and to access about 3% of one of our 4 holiest cities), while giving Arabs the right to live inside Israel if they so choose, anywhere they want to.

I think it's a nice idea, from very well meaning people, who are actually really thrilled at the notion that maybe ironically, peace between Jews and Arabs will originate with the settlers, of all people. I still have questions and doubts. First, because I've noticed different members of ALFA have different takes on some practical questions. Some say the settlers will be Israeli citizens living on Palestinian soil within this one confederation, others say they would be Jews with Palestinian citizenship. Either option raises more questions. Who will protect these Jews living among Palestinians? If they're Israeli citizens, the responsibility would be on Israeli security forces, would they be allowed to operate freely on Palestinian soil? If they're Palestinian citizens, can the Palestinian forces be trusted with the security of these Jews? Past experience suggests... no. Before there was a State of Israel, Jews living among Arabs were attacked and killed simply for being Jewish. No one came to their aid. And when Israel in the 1990's helped set up the Palestinian security forces that serve the Palestinian Authority, some of the weapons and training Israel provided as part of a peace process which was giving the Palestinians self-rule for the first time ever, ended up being turned against Israeli Jews, used against us in terrorist attacks. But even the mere question itself leads to another one, because if we're back to asking "Will non-Jewish authorities protect their Jewish minority," then where is the self-determination we've fought so hard for, the right to protect ourselves, shape our own fate, instead of forever being dependent on the good will of non-Jews...?

You can surely think of similar questions about what would happen with Palestinians living on Israeli soil, what would their citizenship be, and what would happen if they use this freedom of access to attack Israeli Jews? And how about that confederation, how would it work? What would be its joint authority over Israeli and Palestinian citizens vs the autonomy of each state? And how would the power be divided between Jews and Arabs in representation within the joint ruling system, will it be equal no matter what the demographics become over time (making it unrepresentative, some might argue undemocratic) or will it make each side's power relative to its population size, turning one side in reality into a minority, and therefore vulnerable to the power of the other side?

My first reaction was to like the idea enough, that I started thinking about it in practical terms, and got to many of these questions, and I haven't gotten good enough practical answers from ALFA members, sometimes I didn't even get consistent answers (telling me this initiative has not been serious enough, to sit down and iron out all of the differences of view their members have on practical (not ideological!) matters. So yeah, I just... can't really join the movement, even though a part of me still likes this notion, which allows me, as a Jew, full access to every part of my ancestral homeland, not just... to the sections that haven't been occupied by Arab forces in 1948, and ethnically cleansed at that time (like East Jerusalem), or before (like Gaza and Hevron).

On top of that, when I look at who ALFA collaborates with, we're back to sketchy partners, many talk about Jewish-Arab solidarity, but don't really implement it in a way that's fair to Israelis and Jews, such as ST. Or another thing that made me groan is that I saw ALFA celebrate a column by Thomas Friedman which supported them, that's fair enough and natural enough, except they included in their celebration the part of his column calling for a unilateral recognition of the Palestinian state, something that's an anti-peace move in itself, and in this context, I sincerely don't get how this move would help promote this solution, if the Palestinians will get a state anyway, without agreeing to it existing as a part of such a confederation...

This is my perspective,

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[vegaseatsass]

Rewatched My Stand-In eps 2 and 3 tonight, and I'm definitely newly fascinated with Ming POV/Ming's internal concept of what was happening between him and Joe that entire time. I forgot just how much we got of Ming's home life and family in episode 2, and my brain is abuzz trying to connect all the dots. His relationship with May is so interesting. She clocks that he and Joe are together on Christmas, and is immediately careful to conceal it not just from their parents but from Tong. May and Ming have this "us against the world" vibe where they protect and cover for each other, going back to May giving herself pneumonia saving Ming from drowning. I absolutely believe there's more going on in their family than mom pressuring Ming to marry women any time he goes home - I actually suspect things about his family are being obscured for future painful reveals - but May is a safe space for him. Until Tong is added into the picture, and Ming has to flee the country for four years to get away from his big feelings. It's just kind of bonkers to me that he had this intense, safe and presumably very grounding relationship with his sister, but made his obsession with a random movie star the centerpiece of his world instead. Why did he imprint on Tong? Is it really just Joe's sexy back muscles that drew him in? Did he think if he could land a famous movie star his parents would accept him being with a man? Was it subconscious self-sabotage of his only safe relationship lol? I genuinely have no idea!! What I am stuck on though is when he told May he was working through something, and would tell her when he was ready, but he promised he'd get through it. On rewatch, it seems very obvious that what he's talking about is the torch he's carrying for Tong, so to me that's a reveal that he's deliberately trying to move on with Joe - not using him as a sex doll replacement, but throwing himself into something real. (What's messy obviously is that Ming started this for the proxyfucking, but I think overhearing Joe confess his love for Ming to Sol is when Ming started making a determined effort to choose Joe.) There's also his reaction to Joe's Christmas gift where the watch becomes a metaphor for Joe himself (vs. Tong): Ming doesn't need the "top" one, why can't he want the "normal" one?

The first time I was watching this, I assumed that Ming just has no internal awareness of how important Joe is to him, he just feels pure need and acts very very normal when his emotional support stand-in is ripped away. I assumed Ming believes he's in love with Tong and thinks he's just passing some time with Joe. It doesn't help that every time Joe presses him on anything emotional Ming shuts him down or outright negs him lolllll

But like for example, in the scene where they're shopping together and Joe gets excited about the couple mugs, first Ming snaps "What makes you think we're a couple?", then he tries to mitigate his slip by playing it off: "after living with me, you'll realize you don't want me as a boyfriend." His kneejerk impulse to shut Joe down and say cruel things is imo a defense mechanism, a really maladaptive one that helps convince Joe later on that there was never any love there, but I'm starting to think it's triggered in response to actually wanting the intimacy and primacy that Joe is pushing for, and being terrified of that.

It would make so much sense for somebody who is terrified of needing anybody else, of being vulnerable or feeling anything real, to decide they're in love with a complete asshole movie star who uses their family for money and them personally for favors, and shape their life around that. Especially now that I understand how young Ming was when he first fixated on Tong (17ish??), I just feel like that entire imprinting is your classic teenager-who-is-not-ready-to-be-in-a-real-relationship parasocial spiral. I used to do it with male celebrities too!!! (I am a lesbian. lmfaooo)

It's interesting because while there's something conceptually romantic about the back Ming first got obsessed with being Joe's all along, it ultimately doesn't really matter to me WHO the onscreen person that he fixated upon was. What matters is how ill-equipped Ming has proven to handle real feelings for a real person in front of him, and the journey he has from here to learn how to human. I can't wait. P.S. Other thing I forgot happened in episode 2: - Ming made drunk!Joe sleep on the floor of Joe's own home - BEFORE Ming moved in or had any claim to the space - AFTER Ming told Sol he would take "really really good care of Joe" as a way of trying to claim Joe in front of the competition His journey to human is going to be a loooooooooooooooooong one, methinks... 😈

[e-dubbc11]

Kill or Be Killed

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Violence, swear words, mentions of abuse, death, sexual reference but PG-13, little fluff

Word Count: 2K-ish

Summary: Billy helps you get rid of a problem

A/N: This a little over the top, I’ll admit it. But whatever, I do what I want 🤣

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

Bright red blood slowly trickled down the blade and dripped onto the floor as you stood over him and watched life leave his body. There was a feeling of satisfaction when the light faded from his sad, pitiful eyes but you found it difficult to control your breathing. The shallow movements of your chest expanded and retracted rapidly with every sharp inhale and exhale.

It had been easier than you thought it was going to be. The blade had basically done the hard work for you as it penetrated his skin like it was warm butter. Billy showed you where to stab Cole if he ever came after you again and, if you were able to, twist it so the wound wouldn’t close.

“His lungs will fill up with blood, cutting off the oxygen he needs to breathe.” He had said, all with a sly smile across his lips. “He’ll be gasping for air like a dying fucking fish.”

Billy loved showing you how to defend yourself and the desire you had to learn his ways, turned him on. It made him hard watching you practice self-defense moves or with his Ka-Bar. Billy’s skills were unmatched in hand-to-hand combat, you were learning from the best and no one would ever put their hands on you again. And if they did, they’d pay dearly for it.

The look in Cole’s eyes silently said he regretted stalking you, threatening you and, underestimating you. The words he had hissed into your ear the last time he saw you played over and over again in your head…”You don’t have the guts to kill me! You’re too weak!” And as he lay there wide eyed and dying on your bedroom floor, he knew he had made a big mistake and that you weren’t afraid of him anymore.

The meek and mild girl was gone and replaced with someone he didn’t recognize.

The heart beating inside his chest had been waiting to be silenced. You knew it wasn’t possible but you swore those quick heartbeats of his was the noise you heard thumping loudly in your ears, egging you on and taunting you into smothering the sound of it echoing inside the room.

“Are you weak like he said, sweet girl? Hmmm?” Billy had asked you sharply, his onyx colored eyes narrowed but didn't break eye contact.

In his slight New York accent, his voice was soft and harsh at the same time. You should have been frightened but Billy would never hurt you…he loved you.

Vigorously shaking your head, you replied, “No…I’m not weak, Billy. I’m not!”

“Then show me, baby.” He said, handing you the knife as his lips curled back away from his gnashed teeth.

Billy had you practice day after day, cutting up the dummies and slicing them where it would do the most damage, the places where a real person would bleed out in minutes.

“Ya know what a sharp blade feels like slicing your flesh, y/n? It feels as if the metal has been heated by a torch, almost like the skin is burning even though it’s not. That’s what he’s gonna feel. It’s easy to shoot someone but to actually puncture their flesh, to feel the knife go in, and then to smell the blood on the blade when you pull it out, it’s a high I can’t put into words, exactly.” He had said in a sinister tone.

Billy’s words sent restless shivers down your spine, his handsome features contorted with rage, and you knew you couldn’t live your life the way you had been anymore…on edge. The marks and bruises weren’t physically there but you still saw them sometimes when you looked at your reflection in the mirror. “Teach me,” you had said to Billy.

You didn’t want to be scared of a crazy ex-boyfriend that could be waiting around every corner for you or at the end of a dark alleyway.

Cole had made a promise to you. With his hands firmly around your throat, he promised you would die before anyone else could have you and you would have to kill him if you wanted to stop him. Those were his last words before you plunged the Ka-Bar right into his chest, puncturing his lung just like Billy said it would.

The strong copper scent of Cole’s blood on your knife flooded your sense of smell after you removed it from his chest and your taste buds were picking up the metallic taste of the blood particles in the air.

You weren’t left with any other choice. A restraining order was just a piece of paper; it didn’t stop him from breaking into your home or when he tried to strangle you while you slept. The only thing that would stop him was a hole through his chest.

“Still think I’m weak, asshole?” You had asked Cole curtly through gritted teeth as he clutched his chest, choking on his own blood and unable to breathe.

Billy was used to the kill. He was a scout sniper in the marines and it wasn’t very often but, even now, he still had to take a life when it was necessary, but this was your first time taking someone’s life.

You didn’t want to but Cole wasn’t going to stop, there wasn’t another way out of this except with someone’s death and it wasn’t going to be yours.

You had to beg Billy to let you do this yourself and deep down he knew you could get the job done but it didn’t mean he liked it.

“That’s why you have me! I’m here to protect you!" Shouted Billy.

You brushed his beard gently with your thumbs. “I know you are baby, but I CAN do this and it’s because you showed me how.”

And you made Cole pay. For every horrible thing he had ever done to you, you made him pay with his life. The loud rolls of thunder muffled his raw screams of pain as you pulled the knife from his chest and he fell onto the floor.

You posed the question, “You still think I don’t have the guts to kill you, Cole?” And right on cue, you heard a deafening boom of thunder overhead and saw a bright flash of lightning. It was like a scene right out of a movie where the heroine saves herself from being tormented by the big bad villain.

As you watched Cole’s life fade away into nothing, you tried to stop the devilish smile from stretching across your lips so you just let it happen.

He wouldn’t be able to hurt you ever again, he was gone, lying dead at your feet and you had done that. Your sinister laugh quickly shifted into fresh sobs while you still gripped the blade tightly in your hand.

The rain began to hammer against the window after a loud clap of thunder split the air. Cole’s blood pooled underneath him, spread along the wood floor and stained the white t-shirt he was wearing. You loomed above him with tears streaming down your cheeks, trying to stop your hands from shaking.

With your free hand, you balled it into a fist, clenching it until your nails were digging hard into your skin, leaving marks on your palm while you took a deep breath and forcefully exhaled.

But your heart began to race once again when you heard him call out your name. It was coming from the front door.

“Y/N! Tell me where you are baby, NOW!” Shouted Billy.

The tension in your back and shoulders eased when you heard his voice. And you knew he would stay close by no matter how many times you said you could do this on your own.

“I’m in the bedroom, Billy!” You choked out.

You saw the barrel of a gun pointing into your bedroom, his long agile fingers wrapped tightly around it followed by the rest of his body and very relieved to see his handsome face.

Billy looked at you, down at the floor where Cole was, and then at the knife in your hand. With relief in his eyes, he quickly holstered his gun and hurried over to you.

Your shirt was covered in blood, Cole’s blood but Billy didn’t care, he pulled you flush with his chest anyway to try and soothe you.

“It’s alright, sweet girl. I’m here, ssshhh. He’s gone.” He whispered into your ear.

“I killed him, Billy!” You sobbed into his shirt.

Billy grabbed the sides of your face and tilted it up to look at him.

“You listen to me! He didn’t give you a choice! He wouldn’t have stopped until he took you away from me! The police didn’t give you a choice! What did they give you? Huh? A piece of fucking paper!!” He yelled.

His intense brown eyes appeared darker than you had ever seen them, full of concern and relief at the same time. Those eyes were filled with…love and love only for you. Billy then carefully looked at the marks Cole left on your neck, making sure he wasn’t hurting you.

In barely more than a whisper, you looked down at Cole and said, “I know I shouldn’t say this but I’m glad he’s dead.”

Your own words caused goosebumps to erupt across your skin. You never thought you would say that about anyone because you were brought up to believe that there has to be good in everyone, right?

But you found out the hard way that that wasn’t true. There are people out there who are just pure evil. Billy knew that from the way he grew up and everything he had gone through in his life. He was hardened by life, that’s why it was easier for him to kill.

“I watched him die, Billy. There was a brief moment where I understood what you meant about the high you get from the scent of someone else’s blood that you’ve killed. I couldn’t help but smile, almost like I enjoyed it…but then I broke down.” You said softly.

Billy’s fingers danced up and down your spine as he said, “You’re not like me, sweet girl. You’re the most beautiful person I know, inside and out. You’re not broken and soulless, that’s why it’s easier for me. I feel nothing when I kill.”

“That’s not all that you are, Billy. I wouldn’t be with someone I didn’t think had a soul. I know they were all bad people.” You said with a slight smile against his chest.

“And so was Cole, my love.” Said Billy, kissing the top of your head like he always did.

The late night sky was vengeful tonight just as you had been. The rage burned like white hot fire inside as you felt yourself use whatever strength you had left to fight Cole off and stay alive.

Billy held you in silence with nothing but the pinging of the rain against the windows and you squeezed him back, thanking him for being there, for teaching you, and for loving you.

“I love you, Billy. And you are a good man. You’ve always been good to me.” You whispered against his chest.

You could feel him smile against the top of your head as he replied, “I always will be, baby. I love you too.” Billy paused for a minute before he said, “You know what you have to do now.”

Feeling his cool, damp shirt against your cheek, you nodded, pulled away and picked your phone up off of the bed.

A voice on the other end of the phone answered, “9-1-1, what is your emergency?”

You opened your mouth but no words or even sounds came out. The inside of your mouth was dry as a cold spike of fear washed over you and tension tightly gripped your body. With a nod, Billy’s lips curled into a reassuring smile as if to say “Everything’s gonna be alright, sweet girl.”

The voice on the other end of the phone spoke again, “Hello? Are you there?”

As you closed your eyes, you inhaled deeply and let out a long exhale before answering them.

“Yes, I’m still here. I need help. I just…killed an intruder.”

You will be safe from now on.

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialend @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @aoi-targaryen

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If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

[1-danid]

(pt2) dating teen vi

dating arc one vi part two, you have both aged up to arc two!

part 1 here! Go read it love!

You worked at the bar almost for the most part of your job.

You get a lot of gossip and news whilst bartending, it’s shocking what people will tell a pretty bartender when they're drunk.

You're much better of a bartender than Thieram, bless him. And he sees you as a really good friend because Jinx doesn’t scare him as much when you're around.

Not you literally being everyone’s favourite.

Also you 100% get free drinks when you're at the bar, like Silco loves you enough to let you get that free booze.

You're Silco's inside man or woman in this case I guess.

If you're not busy as a bartender you’d 100% be Sevika’s go to dealer for any game she plays.

You don’t even have a choice she's dragging you with her and shoving a deck of cards in your hands.

If she wins shell get you something the next time she's out, if she loses its your fault (she's just a real sore loser and wants you to cheat in her favour)

You're 100% a fair dealer, but when Sevika wins almost every round people get angry at you for cheating. Sevika would beat them up for messing with you.

You're like a daughter to her, and even though she doesn’t show it all the time. SHe cares about you a lot more than Jinx. When you're not working the bar, you're definitely patching up Jinx.

Speaking of Jinx always comes to you for comfort and reassurance as you're the only family she has left, even though Powder died.

You've stuck with her and she appreciates it.

Jinx has improved so much and you're proud of her, and believe it or not you feel like you found another family with her and Silco.

Sometimes you'll cook dinners and bake treats for them when you're off, getting Markcus to buy you the supplies you need as you play with his daughter in Piltover.

He won't admit it but he's more petrified of you than Silco and Jinx combined.

You don't like to go on glimmer mission, they remind you of your old life but on the occasion that Jinx can convince you to go.

You're still a badass, even though you stick to defensive attacks (you could never hurt Ekko.) You're still a force to be reckoned with.

Sevika is much nicer to you than she is to Jinx, but that is likely because of your maturity and you never climbed on her back when she had to babysit you.

When Vi meets Caitlyn in prison, she recognises your initials on one of "Powder's" drawings.

Poor girl has only thought of you and her sister, in all her time in Stillwater she's realised that she loves you and she wanted to find you and tell you that.

So when Caitlyn gives her an opportunity to leave she takes it, if only to know that you and Powder are alive.

We all know Vi is a flirt and she does flirt with Caitlyn, the cupcake scene is a canon event. So when one of your girlfriends sees Vi she waits to see who this pretty girl is with her.

You get news of Vi before Jinx and Silco and leave on your own to clear your head, as your ex lover is proclaimed to be alive.

You're overcome with emotions like jealousy, heartbreak, fear and most of all anger (covers your sadness).

How could she be okay without you, you could barely go a day without thinking of her and the good times how could she move on? Why would she move on and forget about you?

However Jinx took you out of your hole of self pity and wallowing, and asks you to come find Vi with her. It's at that moment you remember the torch and agree, travelling to the top of Zaun to light the torch.

Throughout this Vi had fought Sevika, who was taunting her about how you and Jinx had moved on from her, (we don't talk about your last fling, it was embarrassing.) As Vi is about to be beaten, Caitlyn saves her and then continues to flirt, slowly but surely more and more people hear about Vi's reappearance.

However when you and Jinx light the torch you have hope. Vi was never one to break a promise and if it was to Powder at least.

You stood there anxious as you watches all the fuel dry up and burn from the flare torch.

You just needed to know if she was alive or dead, to know if she cared about you and her own sister.

You needed to know if she had replaced you.

A/N

And that’s where I'm ending this part! I have no idea if i'll make another part but that one anon gave me motivation for this. So here you guys go. Sorry if it's all over the place, I need to rewatch Arcane. It's a bit rusty in my head. I swear I'm working on my atsv requests. I just had this in the works for longer. Hope you enjoyed be sure to leave comments and reblog it!

Next fic publishing will be after i finish updating my wattpad book. No you will not get a link to my wattpad account.

[lightingandpainting]

EVENT: FAMILY ISSUES: part one, Dreams.

(Tws: executions, being burn to death, murder, blood, missing cases, child abuse, alcoholism, and sleeping disorders...you have been warn)

You had a dream. One of the day Iroha Nijiue, Ultimate Painter, was executed. You saw all of it went down in someone else's point a view. The point of view of a masked child.

*flashback to the dream*

"STOP! PLEASE! IT WAS SELF DEFENSE! I DIDN'T DO IT! I'M INNOCENT!"

Plead a brown haired girl. Iroha was sitting in a building covered in gasoline. Both hands handcuffed to a pole in the middle of the building, surrounded by hay and dead grass. She was crying, begging for her life. Her eyes, red, spiraling. Those were the eyes she had during her trial.

Her face were pale but the purple hue showed her emotions. She cried and cried and cried. Shouting, screeching, begging, pleading. No one listened. Her mother, thin, as if she didn't have any muscles on her bones; tall; a warm, cozy, brown hair that was cut to the shoulders; in a long flowy fancy blue dress

Her mother held a torch as the judge stood next to her.

The Judge: "Silence! You are a terrorist to the highest degree! This was the last straw! To death with you!"

The child, who eyes you were seeing through was able to speak up when..

????: "Don't you dare say anything, you murderer. This is all your fault and you are going to live with this. If only you were never born, this wouldn't be happening to your cousin, so shut up and watch!"

The child shut up and watch as Iroha's mother dropped the torch near the wall, setting the building on fire. Iroha cried for help. She beg for Utsuro to come save her. She screamed for Sora to come rescue her. She yelled for void to free her from her fate. She pray for luck to be on her side.

No one came and the view of Iroha burning to death in the burning building fill the view of the child.

"This is all my fault"

*flashback ends*

Someone called you. It was Emi Nijiue, Iroha's cousin. It was the middle of the night however, why is she awake. Do you answer her call?

Tags(inact if you want to or not. Tags aren't needed):

@human-monokuma @ultimate-rider @unknown-ultimates @kurokuma-gang @yui-samidare-returns @mikado-sannoji @detective-shelf-collection @hopeless-protagonist @ask-the-journalist @askthegoddamnluckyhope @ask-emma-magorobi @ask-the-otonokoji-twins @special-encounters(junko) @anyone else.

[maplewood126]

Shadow Dwellers / Cave dragons

One of the more uglier dragons, they are very self aware of their looks. They constantly cover themselves in as much jewelry as they can find to make themseles appear "prettier". Shadow dwellers are big creatures who have big strong forarms and long thick claws for digging, while their smaller back legs are mainly used for pushing themselves deeper underground. They have whiskers on their feet nose and neck to help measure how wide a space is, wether or not its too narrow to get into. Their tails are covered in long sharp spikes, which is used as a defense. They usually come in very dark purples, oranges, blues and reds but yellow and greens have been seen. It is rare for one to have a light color (like the one in picture 4. Picture 4 also shows off the extent of jewelry). Their wings are attacted to their forearms which can make it difficult to move around in some areas in caves. They have four eyes which serve no purpose (i thought it looked cool) the pupils are constantly dilated to make it easier to see in the darker conditions. They are sensitive to light and require special eye wear when traveling above ground. Shadows dwellers call a series of cave systems and tunnels their home, with the kingdom being a very large cavern

[Source: Google]

They have different beliefs as well, believing that the kings should rule instead of the queens. Thsir current king is king Dolomite (1st and 2nd image) his wife is Queen excellent (3rd image) the caves are extremely dangerous, with cave ins being a constant threat and lack of oxygen and narrow passages and falling into deeper holes. You will see many dragons with scars and disabilities from cave ins or falling rocks etc. This is what happened to king Dolomite, who suffered major injuries from one of the largest cave ins in their history. He, unlike many others, was lucky to stay alive, only suffering a disfigured leg and difficult vision in his left eyes. They get alot of their food imported from the shorewings and food that has been hunted from the forest dragons. But the food that they do get from the caves are mainly bite size fish or salamander, cave shrimp and crayfish. Shadowdwellers are fire breathers, and use their Fird to light torches which help the town see throughout the day! Names are based off of cavern names, colors animals that dwell in caves, crystal types and pretty names like beautiful or gorgeous.

[joka13]

FANFICTION: Weasley Twins x Reader (Slytherin Girl) - Part 17

WARNINGS: British swearing, crying

You're surprised to see as many people as you do gathered inside Hog's Head. It's a small crowd, but you still had only expected six or seven people to show up. You count about ten, not including George, Fred, yourself, Ron, Hermione, and Harry. The three of you settle in at the back, and Ron joins Harry and Hermione at the front.

Just as Hermione had mentioned, Harry proposes to the group of students the idea of setting up a sort of Defense Against the Dark Arts club. You're only half interested in the thought until Hermione pipes up and says that Harry would be the club's teacher, seeing as how he's had plenty of personal experience dealing with the dark arts.

"You should have said that in the first place," George snorts loudly so everyone can hear. The entire crowd looks toward the back. "Count me in!"

Standing off to the right end of the group, a pretty girl with uncommonly pale skin meets your gaze. She glances down at the green and grey scarf wrapped around your neck, then leans over to the boy next to her and whispers something in his ear. You recognize him as a fourth year Ravenclaw, though you don't know his name. He acknowledges your scarf too, and his eyes narrow. You quickly grow very self conscious as you realize that you are the only Slytherin in the room.

Fred nods. "Same here. I imagine I'd learn more from Harry than I have from all of my past Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers combined." Many of the students seem to consider and approve of the twins' opinion. You see Harry, who's obviously flattered, trying not to smile. Hermione and Ron appear happy as well.

"Well, anyone who's interested in joining may sign their name here," Hermione says, gesturing to a piece of parchment paper that lies next to a bottle of ink and quill on a nearby table. There's a moment of silent hesitation.

"Oh, for Peter's sake!" Fred and George groan in unison. You notice Ron shoot them a warning look at the mention of the name "Peter".

You stay behind and watch as Fred and George make their way through the small crowd of students. You smile to yourself in amusement. Their exceeding height and bright red hair in this dimly lit room reminds you of torches. Fred and George take turns confidently signing the paper, and soon the rest of the group starts to follow suit.

You go to get in line, but are stopped in your tracks when a cold hand tugs on your arm. You turn around to see the Ravenclaw boy.

"Can I help you?" you ask politely, gently smiling. You're pretty sure you know what he's on about, and you don't want any trouble.

The boy doesn't return the gesture, but tightens his grip on your arm instead. "What do you think you're doing here?" he asks demandingly.

Your smile disappears. You know you're not in the wrong, so you reply with honesty and bluntness. "I plan to sign this paper here. Just like you."

"And how do we know we can trust you?" the boy sneers. "How do we know you're not—"

He's interrupted when someone pushes themselves between you two. The boy let's go and you step back, rubbing your sore arm.

"Is there a problem?" It's George. He now faces the boy with his back to you protectively.

"As a matter of fact, there is," the boy replies shakily, struggling to keep his cool. "I don't think we should trust this girl..."

"And why the bloody hell not?" George growls. He stands up to his full height intimidatingly. You notice the commotion is beginning to draw the attention of other people.

"Because, in case you haven't noticed, she's a Slytherin!" the boy exclaims as he takes a step back fearfully, bumping into Fred who is suddenly standing behind him. The boy swivels around in a panic.

"What's wrong with that?" Fred asks, smiling in a way that seems to say, "I dare you to keep talking".

Whether or not he means to, the boy remains speechless. He looks frantically back and forth between the twins.

"I don't see the issue here," says George, stepping back and folding his arms after a long moment of tense silence.

Fred mimics his actions. "Me neither."

They're giving the boy a chance to walk away.

And so he wisely does. The crowd parts for the Ravenclaw boy as he walks across the room, staring at the floor as he does, and exits through the front door.

Then every eye in the room falls on you. In the moment, all you want to do is get out of there. So, without saying anything or thinking twice, you leave also.

After all the fuss at Hog's Head, you decide you've had enough of Hogsmeade for the day. Right as you come to the dirt path that connects Hogsmeade to Hogwarts, you hear one of the twins call your name from a far distance behind you. You stop and turn around slowly, not sure you want to talk to anyone right now, even the twins. They quickly catch up to you.

"Are you alright?" Fred pants, coming to a halt in front of you.

George jogs up next to him. "Did I overreact?" He wears a nervous expression. "I'm real sorry if I did..."

You try to smile, but then burst into tears.

Taken aback, Fred and George stand frozen in place, watching you with wide eyes. You turn away in embarrassment and put your face in your hands as you continue to sob.

You feel absolutely retched. The day had been going so nicely. Just you and the twins. That's all you wanted! And then the stupid meeting got in the way. And that boy! Oh, that Ravenclaw boy...! But you shouldn't be mad at him. He was only saying what everyone else was thinking. A Slytherin. That's what you are. A sneaky, selfish, lying, little Slytherin. Why should anyone trust you? You'd only backstab them the first chance you got... because you're a Slytherin...

You are startled when two pairs of arms gently wrap around you. They hug and hold you, and you let yourself melt into their embrace. You don't even bother trying to hold yourself up. They support your weight so you can just sob. You sob and sob. But it's alright. You are alright. They're both here. Fred. George. Fred and George Weasley. They are here with you, for you, and that's all that matters...

You have no idea how long the three of you stand there, but the sky has darkened considerably by the time you stop crying. You stand up straight and the twins pull away from you slowly.

You sniff, then chuckle gingerly as you wipe away the snot and tears from your face. You must look a mess now, so you're grateful it's dark out.

"Thanks," you sniff again.

"Don't mention it," they say together softly.

"And..." You take in a deep, shuttering breath. "Thanks for being some of the only people who bother with me... even if it's only for my smarts. It sometimes feels like nobody wants me. I'm a traitor to the Slytherins, and everyone else hates me for being a Slytherin!"

There's a pause in which you really hear the sound of the crickets chirping around you for the first time.

"You're more than a... an assistant or a helper to us now, y/n," Fred says, or you at least think it's Fred. It's too dark to make out the details on either of the twins' faces.

"You're our friend," the other twin (possibly George) says. "You're not a bother."

An appreciative warmth fills you. You smile. "I'm glad." You take a moment to gaze up at the beautiful, crescent moon sitting amongst an endless number of twinkling stars in the night sky. You sigh comfortably, then take out your wand to light the path back to Hogwarts. You start walking and the twins silently move to walk with you, (now you can see) George on your left and Fred on your right.

"By the way," Fred says after a quiet moment. "I, for one, like that you're in Slytherin."

The comment surprises you, and you laugh. "And why is that?"

"I do, too," says George. "It's sort of..." His voice trails off.

"Sexy," Fred finishes for him, nodding his eyebrows at you. You burst out laughing.

"I wasn't sure I should say it out loud," George laughs.

"Is that all?" you ask, still giggling.

"Yep. That's it. That's the only reason," Fred snickers.

"The qualities you have that got you into Slytherin are admirable... Or they are to us at least," chuckles George.

You snort. "Thanks... I guess?"

"Well, you know us!" Fred defends. "We can only dream of ever being half as skilled as you are in the ways of mischief!"

"What?" You laugh. "That's quite a compliment coming from you!"

"Don't get us wrong, we are pretty good at it," George chuckles. "And we do it more often, but it took longer for us to learn. It comes to you naturally."

You shrug your shoulders. "If you say so."

"It's true! I still can't believe how you've managed to make it all the way from the Slytherin common room to Gryffindor tower almost every night since we've met without getting caught!" George exclaims.

"A truly impressive feat," Fred agrees.

"I will admit I'm rather proud of that," you chuckle.

The three of you finally reach the castle. You enter the building and a wave of relief washes over you. It feels good to be back. It's been a long and emotional day. You're tired, and your feet hurt after walking around Hogsmeade for hours.

The twins start to head for the Great Hall, but you don't follow. They stop and turn around when they realize you're not with them.

"Aren't you hungry?" George asks.

"I am, but I'm more tired," you reply. "I think I'll head to bed."

"Oh. Then let us walk with you," says Fred. He and George start toward you.

"No, no! That's alright, you don't need to do that. You two can go eat."

"But we insist," the twins say in unison. They stand on either side of you and hold out their arms in a gentlemanly manner. You laugh and take their arms, knowing there's no use arguing with them.

The halls are practically empty now. Your footsteps on the tile floor echo, and you get a rush of nostalgia.

You arrive at the door to the Slytherin common room. You let go of the twins' arms and turn around to face them.

"Thank you both again... for everything," you say.

George starts to speak. "No prob—" You cut him off with a kiss on the cheek, having to stand on the tips of your toes to reach him. You do the same to Fred, who slightly bends his knees for you in advance.

"Goodnight," you say before quickly making your way into the common room, struggling to keep yourself from grinning giddily.

"Goodnight, y/n," you hear Fred and George say together. Just before the door shuts, you think you see them share a fist bump.

[ridenwithbiden]

On Friday, Kenneth Chesebro pleaded guilty to one count of conspiracy to file false documents in the Fulton County 2020 election conspiracy case, becoming the second high-level Donald Trump co-defendant to become a state’s witness in two days. Chesebro received an especially lenient sentence of five years’ probation, a small financial penalty, and 100 hours of community service.

With the guilty plea and cooperation deal Georgia prosecutors struck on Thursday with Team Trump attorney Sidney Powell, Chesebro’s plea deal should be viewed as an earthquake in the case against Trump. Given Powell’s close proximity to the former president and his legal advisers at crucial times in his attempts to overturn the 2020 election, her testimony will be particularly devastating not only as to defendant Trump, but to co-defendants Rudy Giuliani and John Eastman.

Chesebro’s testimony, meanwhile, implicates one of the key portions of the conspiracy both in Georgia and in the federal Jan. 6 case against Trump, specifically the efforts to create a slate of “false electors” to use during the Jan. 6 electoral count to overturn the results of the 2020 election. Now that both Chesebro and Powell are cooperating witnesses, the pressure on Giuliani and Eastman to plead and cooperate is exponentially higher.

That the significant cooperation under discussion involves four of Trump’s attorneys underscores the reality that the former president’s regularly touted defense that he was relying on the good-faith guidance of his attorneys during the attempted coup was, and is, nothing more than self-serving fantasy. In the courtroom—as compared with on television or in social media—he has never had the ability to offer that defense.

In court, the advice of counsel “affirmative defense” requires a defendant to prove two things: First, that he relied in good faith on his lawyer’s advice that the conduct in question at trial was legal, and second, that he made a full disclosure of all relevant facts to the attorney before receiving that advice.

Based on my four decades in the courtroom as both federal prosecutor and defense attorney, I can report that the assertion of the attorney-client privilege by a criminal defendant at trial is a black swan event—effective only with the consistent, overlapping trial testimony of both the attorney and the defendant, and the admission into evidence of any documents reflecting the communications or advice they testified about.

Putting aside the substantial evidence that Trump was warned by numerous White House lawyers that his efforts to overturn the 2020 election were in violation of the law, how does Trump establish the advice of counsel defense at trial?

As I have observed in prior articles, he is certainly not able to testify on his own behalf. There are surely no memos to the file, emails, or letters to the client evidencing such advice in writing. Finally in this regard, what lawyer is willing to testify he or she advised Trump it was, for example, lawful for him to ask the Georgia secretary of state to “find” enough votes for him to win that state?

Long before the Powell and Chesebro deals were announced, the absurdity of expecting any Trump attorney’s testimony to be anything but harmful to his cause was made crystal clear by Michael Cohen. More recently, when Trump lawyer Evan Corcoran was forced to testify against the former president based on the “crime fraud” exception to the attorney-client privilege, the testimony he gave and the internal memos he was compelled to produce, proved not to be shields for the former president, but swords to be wielded against him—as it is with Powell and Chesebro, and so it will be with others.

After all, what can you expect when your standard for choosing at least some of your lawyers is their willingness to turn a blind eye to whatever your weak ego and malicious intentions require?

In sum, while Georgia and DOJ attorneys have each received great potential benefits from the Powell and Chesebro deals, it was in no way structured to protect against a defense they know Trump cannot employ.

Finally, speaking of structure, the great deals Powell and Chesebro struck, getting probation while facing up to 20 years in jail on a RICO conviction, are certainly a blessing for them—they even get to finally tell the truth.

But District Attorney Fani Willis’ seeming generosity is a sign of shrewd judgment, not weakness.

Prosecutors have both the carrot and the stick to get what they want, and the two deals Willis just made were large carrots, signaling to the other defendants that she is someone they can deal with, and that there are potentially acceptable pathways out of the mess they are in. At the same time, she has just made her case against other, more significant defendants meaningfully stronger and her stick that much larger.

Of course, Willis is a long way from where she needs to be, but those who had originally feared she had overindicted the 19-defendant RICO case might now be a little less concerned and a little more impressed.

[yourlocaleldritch]

Thinking about how Nimona literally turned into a dragon and instead of choosing to breathe fire to defend herself (which we know for a fact she can do) she chose to use cereal to attack her enemies with. She didn't want to hurt anymore. It makes the scene where Ballister confronts her about the scroll hurt so much more because like. She could have done that. But she just wouldn't. All Nimona wanted was to be loved as she was. She didn't want to hurt anyone. Or at least, hurt them in a way that would permanently hurt for the rest of their life.

And the fact that Nimona is depicted as a dragon in the scroll? They didn't even know she could do that. She never turned into a dragon. And she didn't set the village on fire either, the fire happened because the villagers dropped their torches and it set fire to the hay. Nimona didn't turn into a dragon or burn the village, or purposely hurt anyone and yet on the scroll she was depicted that way. She was depicted hurting people because she had the ability to hurt people, even though in the flashback we see she only hurts the villagers in self defense, because they were hurting her and she was scared. She didn't want to hurt anyone, she just wanted to be loved as she was.

[incorrect-piltover-quotes]

Caitlyn: This is your third strike. First you torched that orphanage. Then you blew up that bus full of nuns.

Jinx: Hey, that was in self defense.

[roman-o-cheese]

Omg lets talk about the story of gloreth for a second

A monster attacks gloreth and then sets her home ablaze. Gloreth banishes it and creates a city monster free. She’s shown as a grown woman in armor with a golden sword and all

But in the true story gloreth is a child playing with a friend her parents think is dangerous and are off put by her even when it’s shown that Gloreth is fine and happy. Despite this, they start a fire by throwing a torch at Nimona and charging to attack her instead of trying to help their people. Gloreth picks up a wooden toy sword and tells her to leave. In the scrolls, Nimona is shown as a monster disguised as a little girl when in reality she transformed into a bear at most.

It goes to show how twisted stories of glorification go. They show this grown, armor clad woman but in reality she was a brainwashed child in her village clothes with a wooden toy sword. It reminds me of Christopher Columbus. How we praise him and such but he really did all evil

And on top of that. Nimona has been there for the same amount of time there has been the city and nothing goes wrong. She’s been there the whole time. It’s only when they attack her that she lashes out in self defense and they say it’s in her nature

PLUS when Nimona becomes Gloreth’s monster, she is not charging the city to hurt the people and enact revenge. She is going to hurt herself not anyone else.

Also the detail of the scroll showing Nimona as a monster disguised as a girl is a very obvious allegory for hate speech. A little girl who ropes people in because she “passes” as one and then turns her back on them and hurts them. It’s like what transphobes say about trans people, specifically trans women. That they’re just predatory men pretending to be little girls to get there and assault or hurt them.

[brewsterispunkk]

a marriage of convenience, part two

pairing: pero tovar x f!reader

warnings: HEAVY TW ON DOMESTIC ABUSE! enemies to lovers

WC: 3.1k

summary: hate at first sight <3

PART TWO

Against your mother’s wishes, you arrived home later than usual, with the sun already beginning to set beyond the hills.

It wasn’t your fault entirely—Lisbeth had practically begged you to walk her home after the fright you’d had with the man in the river earlier.

She always was easier to frighten than you. And besides, there had been rumors about attacks on maidens from a few towns over for weeks. Your mothers and others in the community had already begun whispering that it was only a matter of time before they made their way to your hometown.

The very thought sent a shiver down your spine. There were enough sinister men here already– you didn’t need any more.

Unlike you, Lisbeth didn’t keep any type of weapon on her person for self defense, so it seemed only natural for you to walk her home; Men rarely attacked women who traveled in groups, and you kept a dagger hidden in your bodice for emergencies. And you knew how to use it—your father made sure of that before he lost his ability to walk.

Still, you kept an eye out for strangers as you crept the cobblestone alleyways home, to your father’s carpenter’s shop.

It wasn’t a particularly long trek from Lisbeth’s home, but it was enough to keep you wary. Nights in the village tended to be rowdy, with the merchants and travelers from every-which-way seeking their fun after months on the road.

Luckily for you, you knew the ways to go to keep out of the way of unsavory company.

You crossed the street to another alley, this one torch-lit. You silently thanked the Gods, and the tavern owner, for the light.

It put you at more ease. You’d been on edge since that afternoon and your encounter with the strange rogue in the forest.

Your mind went back to him as you hurriedly made your way through the alleyways.

His build, his hair, his eyes, how dark they were.

You couldn’t tell if you were more frightened or intrigued.

The opening of a back-door snapped your attention back to the present.

You recognized from the drunken-singing coming from inside that it was a tavern—one of the most frequented in town.

“Out with ‘ya, then!” A familiar female voice shouted, before the heavy figure of a man was thrown to the wet cobbled street in front of you.

You could barely control the shriek that left your lips.

“Christ, girl. You scared me.” The barmaid, Morwenna, placed a hand over her breast.

“And you me!” You scowled at her, only to be met with the rise of an eyebrow.

Morwenna was the daughter of a friend of your mothers and had spent many a day rearing you when your mother was tending house. Nearly a decade older than you, she married the owner of the tavern when you were only nine. Still, she was one of the many women in the village who employed your mother’s services for pains and maladies.

“What are you doing out so late, love?” She asked. “Your mother will be having a fit.”

“I know,” you sighed. “I was…distracted.”

“Again?” She flicked a black curl over her shoulder.

“Yes, again.”

“Well. You best get on home now, there’ll be more like him,” she nodded to the drunken man at your feet, “about. Be careful.”

“I will.”

“Oh, and, does your mother have another batch of my tea made up yet?”

“Almost. With this batch of herbs, she should,” you held up your basket of herbs.

“Good,” she said, beginning to close the door. “My moonsblood is almost here and I can’t bear it without it.”

“I’ll bring it by as soon as it’s ready.”

“Good girl.” she smiled. “Be safe!”

You smiled at the woman over your shoulder before continuing on your way.

- - -

You were surprised to find the house silent when you arrived home.

Your siblings rarely went to bed without a fight, unless they were thoroughly tired out, and your mother was known to stay up mending by the fire well into the early hours of the morning.

You were relieved to find your Petyr’s jacket gone from its hook near the door. It meant what it always did: that he was gone to the tavern for the night, and you were spared from his presence.

Wearily, you set your full basket at the wooden table near the kitchen, thankful that you wouldn’t have to face your mother’s wrath ‘til the next morning.

She would have your head for staying out this late, you were sure, but at least you could get a good night’s sleep first.

A sniff from behind you caught your attention and you turned your head to face the hearth.

You were so weary you had almost missed it; There, curled up on some blankets were two of your younger brothers, Hugo and Rowan.

Strange, you thought.

It wasn’t unheard of for them to tire too soon and fall asleep by the hearth, but usually Petyr or your mother would carry them up to their chambers upstairs.

You hummed in curiosity before looking at your arms.

You looked down to your tender wrists and rubbed them, hissing when you found them still tender to the touch.

It was moments like these that you allowed yourself to hate your brother—Petyr—in the silence and darkness of your home, while everyone was asleep. In a way, it made it excusable. Not real, even. Still, it was enough for you to keep your head during the day when you had to save face with the rest of your family.

You sighed and unlaced the front of your dress, allowing yourself to slump into one of the well-worn seats at the table. You saw a crust of bread sitting there, along with a bit of apple and you smiled to yourself.

That was from your sister, Grace, you were sure. At fourteen, she was the backbone of your family and sharp as a dagger, but kind as summer at the same time.

You took a bite of the bread, then realized that you had no ale or water to be seen, which meant you would have to venture down to the cellar for some.

You shivered at the thought. Though a woman grown, you still hated to go down there alone, nevertheless at night.

Still, your tongue felt like sandpaper in your mouth and you knew that you’d have to brave the cold, dank, cellar.

You stood and began to creep toward the cellar door, which was attached to the kitchen. But, as you crept in, something stopped you.

It was the quiet creak of the loose floorboard in the corner.

It crept up your spine like a serpent, and immediately you knew you weren’t alone in the dark kitchen.

You silently cursed yourself for not lighting a candle when you got home.

You took a slow breath before itching sneakily for the knife in your bodice, all the while taking slow steps into the kitchen, toward the corner.

Suddenly, there was a rush of movement, and you wasted no time.

WIth a yelp, you slammed into the person hiding in the corner, your knife drawn. You shoved them against the wall and pressed the knife to their throat.

“Stop!” You screeched, pressing the knife deeper. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to cause the person—the man—to grunt.

“Mother!” you called over your shoulder. “James!”

“Ah!” The man grunted from where he was pressed to the wall. “Suéltame, suéltame—Let me go!”

His voice would have been fearsome had you not had a knife to his throat.

You heard shuffling from upstairs, and the familiar racket of your family and you breathed a sigh of relief.

You felt the coarse brush of hair over your wrist—like that of a beard—and took the opportunity to examine the shadowy silhouette of the man under your knife.

He was broad, with a long mass of hair, that much you knew, and he smelled of lye soap. He was tall, too. Intimidatingly so.

It was almost as if—no. It couldn’t be.

Your mother’s gasp and the gold of candlelight interrupted your thoughts.

“What are you doing?” she screeched, as she and your siblings entered the kitchen behind you.

The light from their candles finally made it possible for you to see the man’s face, and it made your blood run cold.

It was him.

“You!” you yelled, pressing the knife deeper against his neck, deep enough to draw a drop of blood.

He grunted, before you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“Cousin,” a familiar voice cooed from behind you.

You hadn’t heard it in years, and it had deepened some, but you could recognize it anywhere.

“Please, drop the knife.”

“...William?”

“Aye.”

You turned your head and were met with familiar blue eyes, under an overgrowth of blond hair. The man took advantage of your distraction, grabbing your wrist in a vice-like grip and prying it—and the knife with it—away from his neck.

You gasped at the pressure to your bruised wrists and pulled them to your chest, glaring daggers at the wild man before you.

You hadn’t seen your cousin William’s face in nearly a decade. He’d spent time living with your family when you were younger, after the death of his mother, your aunt.

You remembered the time when William lived with you in a myriad of gold-edged memories. Like it was always summer when he was there.

You remembered swimming in the stream, trying to teach him the lute, singing wildly off-key, and wild games of tag in the fields. You remembered him carrying your ten-year-old body on his shoulders, and dancing in a circle at the festival of the harvest.

But mostly, you remembered being heart-broken when he left.

“What on earth is going on here?”

Your mother rushed in between you and him, eyes fierce.

“I should be asking you that!” you burst.

“I awake to you assaulting a guest?!”

“---a guest?!” you cast a horrified look over your shoulder. “He is a rake!”

“He is a friend of your cousin’s, and you will hold your tongue.” Your mother’s tone held no room for argument.

“Ah, this is my friend and companion, Tovar. We’re just passing through, looking for somewhere to lay low for a while.”

You eyed the man—Tovar—skeptically, looking particularly at his hair.

“Yes, we, uhm,” William chuckled. “We haven’t had time for a cut or shave in months, I’m afraid. We shall have to remedy that tomorrow, I think.”

You hummed.

“That still does not explain this one’s penchant for spying.”

At that, Tovar snorted.

“And where is your husband, Señora?”

You bristled at that.

So he did remember your conversation from earlier, you thought.

“She has no husband,” Grace piped up from behind your brother James. “Though she should. She’s already old—”

“That is enough, Graciela.”

She merely smirked.

“Are you alright, sir?” Your mother asked Tovar.

He cast you a glare, before nodding.

He wiped a drop of blood from the cut on his neck.

“Just a scratch. No harm, Doña.” He smiled half-heartedly at your mother.

“You are too kind, Mr. Tovar, but yes there was much harm done.” She cast a withering gaze at you. “It’s a grievous sin to wound a guest under your own roof. My daughter should know better.”

“Surely, Aunt—”

“No, William,” your mother cut your cousin off. “She must learn.”

She snaps your name and your fuming gaze meets hers.

“You will dress his wounds.”

“But—”

“No arguing. You’re lucky you didn’t wake your father. The consequences would’ve been much more severe.”

You balked at her as she ushered your siblings back upstairs, but you knew better than to argue. Your mother was a kind woman, a just woman, but she was not a woman to be crossed.

You sighed, and met William’s eyes, who merely cast you an apologetic look.

“Come, then Tovar.” You spat once your mother had retreated upstairs. “Let’s get this over with.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” William chuckled from your right and you shot him a venomous look.

“I’m not done with you either,” you shot at him. “I want answers.”

“Then you shall get them,” he smiled, eyes fond.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

He wanted you to smile at him, to fall into his arms and tell him you missed him, you were sure of it. You wouldn’t—no matter how true it was. Some part of you was still angry at him for leaving so abruptly all those years ago. Still, it was nothing you couldn’t forgive him for.

“You’ve been away too long.” You settled with.

At that, he smirked and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side.

“I missed you,” he mumbled into your head. You couldn’t help the smile that came to your face; you really did miss him.

“Alright,” you groaned. “Let go, you’re smothering me.”

He chuckled and did as you asked.

“Well, I shall leave you to it then. I’m tired.”

You waved to him as he exited to where you assumed he was sleeping in your younger brothers’ room.

Then, you turned and faced the real problem: the man in front of you.

- - -

“Ow,” the man—Tovar—hissed from beneath your hand.

“Be quiet,” you snapped. “You’ll wake everyone up.”

“A warning next time, Leona.” He spat at you.

You pressed the alcohol-soaked cloth harder into his neck.

“Don’t insult me in a language I don’t understand.” You said, before grumbling, “coward.”

He grabbed your wrist.

“I am many things, but I am not a coward,” his voice was dangerously low.

You met his dark eyes, and rolled your own. You yanked your wrist out of his grip, ignoring the throbbing.

“You men are such babies.”

He scoffed, but you continued.

“Whining over a scratch, over the sting of alcohol, over mere words–”

“You would be surprised how much words can fire the temper, hmm, Señora?”

You glared at him and turned to the gauze on the table.

You didn’t speak much Castilian, but living where you did you’d picked up enough to know a few words. He was calling you “Mrs.” It made you tick.

“Just shut up, so we can get this over with.”

“As the Señora commands.”

You glared and wrapped the gauze around his neck only a little too tight. It was difficult enough to dress the wound around his wild hair and beard. You hoped you wouldn’t be expected to cut it tomorrow.

“Done,” you sighed when you tied the knot on the bandage.

“Hmm,” he hummed.

His scowling face looked almost menacing in the candlelight. You wondered if it always held such a sour expression. You also wondered why on earth this man was so unpleasant.

Tovar stood from where he sat beside you at the table and you were once again reminded of his staggering height. He had to be nearly a head taller than your father, and half a head taller than Petyr.

His stature was attractive, you accepted begrudgingly. You wondered if his face was as well, under all the months of overgrowth.

There had been times in your youth when you and Lisbeth had snuck off from your chores to the village square to spy on the travelers. You’d seen men of all kinds there: tall and short, light and dark, small and big.

You two would often daydream about handsome strangers you found there—imagining them as your future husbands.

As you sat there watching Tovar stand in your kitchen, you wondered if you had seen him then, would you have imagined him there, in the place of the man you would one day marry?

One look at his scowl gave you your answer.

Wordlessly, he made his way to the wooden stairs that led to the upper level of your house, where he was no doubt sleeping in your brothers’ room.

You noted the stiffness to his shoulders, the sureness and beat in his step; This man was a soldier. If not presently, then in another life.

Your village didn’t see war often—maybe ever—but you’d seen enough of them passing through in your life to recognize one.

This new revelation about Tovar made you curious—almost as much as you were resentful.

It wasn’t until he was halfway up the stairs that you realized that he hadn’t even thanked you.

“You’re welcome.” You called dryly, causing him to scowl even more over his shoulder before he went to bed.

- - -

You stayed up by the fire, mending James and Hugo’s playclothes.

Your mother usually was the one who stayed awake into the wee hours doing chores, and you wanted to make up for the ones you’d missed that afternoon. That, and you hoped this would save you from her wrath the next morning.

You were sewing a hole in the knees of a pair of James’s breeches when you heard the front door being roughly pushed open.

A spike of fear went through your heart.

Petyr.

Your brother stumbled as he made his way through the kitchen, no doubt drunk again. You heard his drunken shuffling as he rooted through the pantry, then the empty bowls on the table. He grumbled as he stumbled into the room where you were.

“You,” he slurred, voice hateful even inebriated.

You froze in the chair.

Your brother was disheveled. His shirt was partly unlaced, and had a stain down the front. It looked and smelled like it was ale. His shoes were haphazardly tied, and his pants stained like he’d fallen in the dirt. His face was deadly.

“You didn’t save me dinner,” he growled as he stalked toward you.

You stood up, dropping the breeches to the floor and backing away from your brother.

In two steps, he was in front of you, hand grabbing your already tender wrist in an iron grip.

You cried out, and he yanked you closer, sneering in your face.

“Shut up,” he spat. “Why isn’t there any supper waiting for me?”

“I-I didn’t eat,” you struggled to get your wrist free.

“What about the bread,” his voice was too quiet. Deadly.

“Gra-Gracie left me some. I didn’t eat, Petyr, let me go!” You pulled at him, only for his hand to move from your wrist to your neck.

You gasped as he squeezed your neck in his hand, enough pressure that you saw stars.

“You don’t tell me what to do, do you understand?” he asked, face too close to yours.

You could smell the sour scent of alcohol on his breath as you struggled to breathe.

You tried to nod your head.

“Yes.”

You finally squeaked out, before his hand was gone and you were toppling to the floor.

You heard his footsteps stalking away as you tried to catch your breath, gasping on the floor. Your heart raced, and you realized after a moment that your head was pounding.

It was only until you were sure he was gone that you let yourself cry.

[wandringaesthetic]

I'm going to make a possibly weird statement because I've seen a little bit of discourse and personal thoughts and people being defensive regarding being a fan of the character:

A version of Sephiroth that didn't crack and kill everyone in Nibelheim is a worse person than the one that did. A version of Sephiroth that was still functioning as a weapon for the standing army of a megacorparation is worse than the one that decided all of humanity was his enemy, an extreme but understandable reaction to the realization of how he'd been made, and used, and lied to. It doesn't matter if before Nibelheim he was a good leader, or that he was kind to people under his command, or that he was generally a stand up guy (if you weren't against Shinra). Because he used those abilities at the beck and call of a company that was subjugating and killing the planet. Ask Wutai when this person became a monster.

Maybe he was worse afterwards, in terms of scale. But slaughtering everyone in a town and attempting to eat a planet and make oneself a deity (or... Travel through the cosmos in order to.... What? Find other people like you?) is out of most real world peoples' reach. Joining the military or the police in order to uphold the status quo because you have some notion that it will make you a hero? That's something people do. That's something Cloud did.

Because here's the thing: intent doesn't matter. It doesn't matter when you started to enjoy killing people, it matters that you killed people. Sephiroth didn't have a real choice in anything he did pre Nibelheim incident. In Nibelheim, he was right to bite the hand that fed him, the hands that beat him, the hands that formed him.... If he misunderstood those hands as ALL hands. Well.

In part, I think what made Sephiroth crack was realizing that he was working for a power that made people into monsters (and that he was the first and most notable of those monsters). Literally and figuratively. You have that kind of realization about yourself and your life, You can look back on the things you've done, that you thought were in the name of good, and realize they were in service of greed and twisted goals. You can face it. You can feel that horror, that guilt, that self loathing....

Or you can.... Not face that. You can turn away from those that used you, but not really face yourself. And in not facing yourself, helplessly repeat the only pattern you know: absorb the life of the planet for selfish gain. Burn the world like a torch to light your way to a promised land that may not exist.

And part of what made Sephiroth unable to face himself is that Sephiroth was not loved. Put on a pedestal sometimes, but still set apart and untouchable. I'm not a Crisis Core enjoyer, but if we're taking it as canon then his only friends and peers (who were maybe not human themselves, at the end) were hunted down by the company directly prior to the Nibelheim incident. What is there for him among humanity? Why should he believe that any of the people he has killed are any better than any of the people he has known? Because he's been told that if he does as he's told there's a place for him here, he'll be accepted, he'll have a seat at the table. He's always, somewhere in the back of his mind, felt the lie in that, but now he's read it in black and white. He has always, only, ever been a thing. He's not human.

Thank God.

Because if he's not human, of course no human could love him. If he's not human, there is hope of him finding love elsewhere.

Mother...?

So. Sephiroth is a tragedy. But he didn't become a tragedy at Nibelheim, he was a tragedy from day one. He never had a real choice, not a good one. He was always set on a bad path. A Sephiroth that didn't burn down Nibelheim is still the final boss of this game. The Sephiroth that did burn down Nibelheim was half right to cut a bloody trail through his former masters, and half wrong to cut it through everyone. But there is not a way that a person with his experiences could have chosen better. You can still empathize with him and say wooo look at him go for being half right instead of all the way wrong.

[gren-arlio]

CAUTION: HAVE YOU SEEN THIS CRIMINAL?

(Image made by @kirstenonic05. Huge help on this, so thank you.)

Hello, one and all, it's Gren here. Today is Witch's birthday as well as Halloween, and to celebrate such a momentous occasion for the girl who appears in oh so many of my posts, I'm gonna to do two things besides say happy birthday to her.

An in-depth look on what The Witch has committed, her devious crimes.

How to handle/deal with/tolerate her if you're a random person, or you're a special guy.

Possible prosecution of her. Keyword "Possible".

I basically became Schezo's Private Investigator for a solid few months and today, I'm here to drop it all out for the press to see. Puyo fans are gonna be in shambles tonight.

This will be a detailed tutorial on what happens if you see The Witch, how to deal with her, and what happens if she approaches you. Hope you enjoy this overly elaborate shitpost.

-----

What IS The Witch?

For those blissfully unaware, The Witch is a wanted criminal, a young 15 year old felon who often resides in the realms of Madou Monogatari and Puyo Puyo, owned formerly by COMPILE, now by SEGA.

(A rough draft of what the suspect looks like. Be careful. Actual draft of her from Madou Monogatari Saturn.)

She seems harmless, but that's how she gets you. Never trust teenage girls who can brew potions, I learned that the hard way.

Commonly, she's a blonde haired, blue eye teenage girl, about 5'2 (158 CM) and 99 pounds (45KG), seen with a blue robe with tints of white and red, a blue hat and some of the worst shoe game I've ever seen.

However, she has been seen in a green robe with a red amulet, a steampunk outfit, and even cosplay as either Arale Norimaki from Dr. Slump, a literal cat, and Emilia from Re:Zero. (Besides the cat one, all really good alts in Quest design wise and Puyo-N just has good designs.)

(Video recording of The Witch cooking something malevolent)

-----

What? Crimes?

You heard me right good folks, as the guy who has documented her misdeeds for weeks on end, (AKA I've been casually researching other games and she appears,) I have found many of her criminal acts, some worse than others, and some shit I definitely made up. Here are a few cases, some of which are somewhat stretching the definition, but it's alright:

Attempted Murder:

Most notably committed in Madou Monogatari Saturn, where whilst getting kidnapped by Incubus, she absolutely torched the man. Could claim self defense but still.

Harassment:

Mostly to Schezo, when you stretch the definition long enough, it can be considered verbal harassment. If you count 4Komas and Compile Club Underground Edition, visual harassment is...certainly on the table.

(Attempted) Petty Theft:

More notable in Waku Waku Puyo Puyo Dungeon, where she tries many-a-times to get Schezo's robes, even threatening assault if he didn't.

Assault:

Threatened Schezo with it for his clothes in Waku Waku Puyo Puyo Dungeon, saying she'll rip them off.

You may ask, "Aren't Puyo matches assault cases?" And to that, I say...no. Usually, it's a joint agreement. The same goes for Waku Puyo, it's part of the attraction itself, the person somewhat signed up for it. However, I don't think personally trying to rip someone's clothes was part of the rules.

Drugging:

Most noticeable in the Tottemo Puyo Puyo Manga, where she drugged Arle with a love potion to make her fall in love with them, but it failed. Badly.

(Not many people know this one too much, so I thought I'd show the time where the crime occurred.)

Possession/Distribution of Alcohol to and as a Minor:

In Puyo 20th Anniversary, she just so happened to have something that made our boy Klug feel a tad unwise. Apparently happened to Lagnus too in Quest, but we're unsure, since it came from a 2nd source.

(Also, I know she didn't mean to give Klug it, but...why did she have it anyways?)

Crimes Against Schezo Wegey:

Along with almost every crime here, during the run of Compile, she's committed the worst one of them all: Being a Simp.

Easily the most notable for me, In Waku Waku Puyo Puyo Dungeon, she's normal to almost everyone else (she has beef with Rulue for some reason,) but the minute Schezo is in a 2 mile radius, she "forgets" to take her normal pills.

(Image recording of her harassing Mr. Wegey. She's just saying "it" looks super cool, leaving Schezo confused on whatever she meant, and yes. It's about his clothes.)

Second most notable (for me) is PuyoLympics, where the SECOND he takes off his robe to show the uniform he got, she starts acting a little unwise, to put it bluntly.

(Prelude image seconds before The Witch commits her worst crime yet. Being a Simp. Also the NicoNico video I saw for this had some of the most down bad dudes ever, don't become them please)

We also must speak about her acting unwise when she saw Madou Saturn Schezo, asking to touch the man.

And how could we forget when she got possessed by Marle, who totally gave her back her Madou conscious after laying dormant for God knows how many years and began her quest of simping yet again?

Saying submit to me, saying that she doesn't know why she feels so desperate for him all of a sudden, and then prolongs the word fun? Marle was scheming that day...

(First off, somehow I got this with both her eyes closed. Didn't expect that. Second, why does it look like Schezo is grabbing his own name box?)

We can forgive many of her crimes. But we can't forgive this crime specifically.

-----

What Do You Do When You See The Witch?

Now, most likely, you'd want to report her to the feds, the police if you will. But her world doesn't have police somehow, and that's rough buddy. However, The Witch is a very social person, and might want to talk to you.

This will be a step by step guide on what to do if you're a normal person near The Witch or if you're Schezo. Gotta look out for everyone.

However, for all:

The Witch is incredibly dangerous, and unless you're a relative, odds are, something malicious WILL be brewing.

Willingly going near her is dangerous as well, but if you live for danger, ignore this section.

For the Everyday Guy:

Keep your distance. The easiest thing to do, thankfully. If you don't approach her, odds are, she won't interact with you unless she wants something.

Don't own a Meteor Grimoire. She can sense that.

If she decides to go near you, do not panic, nor run yet. She has magic, you don't most likely, so unless you want a fireball or a Meteor hitting you, don't run.

Keep the talk short and brief. Prolonged exposure can be detrimental to your health in the long run.

If she asks for something, there's two ways to go around it. You can either give it to her quickly, or be the innocent victim of her next robbery/crime.

Don't try anything she gives you. Ever.

This is a split path. If she tries to take something from you, you can either choose to finally run or fight. Thankfully, she's pretty average at Puyo, so a good player can fend her off.

If everything goes well, she will leave you alone. And if you run, she probably won't chase you that much since you're just kinda a random dude to her.

For Schezo Wegey: (Or People in a Similar Scenario)

Before you even go out, don't wear cool-looking robes.

Don't own a Meteor Grimoire. She will sense that, especially if you're Schezo.

Same with the everyday man, keep your distance. If she spots you, it's absolutely over. Schezover, even.

If she spots you, everything changes now from the everyday man. She wants to approach you, she wants you...r items, or actually legit you. Don't show visible panic. Pretend she's not coming.

There's no shot you're going to be able to keep conversations short, she probably knows that you're trying to leave fast. However, try to keep your responses short enough, but not short to the point that she catches on.

If she asks for You, do NOT panic externally, which is easier said than done. Try to ask to elaborate. If she doesn't, you're fucked. If she does, give the thing to her...unless it's your clothes.

If you run, she's will very much chase you. There's several pieces of evidence for that, and unless you can run 100 meters in maybe 12 seconds, she will catch up to you with her broom. Even then, stamina issues for people, and she flies. Don't risk it unless you're absolutely confident.

This is a situation where you want her to leave first. If you noticed with some of the times Schezo gets harassed, she tended to leave first (Puyo 20th, Waku Puyo,) while in some cases, Schezo got out first (Madou Saturn, PuyoLympics but that went poorly), so try to make her leave first by doing...God know what.

If she tries to fight you, fight back. Self-defense is always good, and if you're Schezo or have a body similar to his, odds are her Meteor will hit you, but you'll survive. He's survived worse, you probably can too.

If everything goes well, you're free. Least for a little longer.

If you lose the fight, and everything else failed, FUCKING RUN. If Schezo can do it upon losing to her in Waku Waku Puyo Puyo Dungeon, you can too. Probably. Maybe.

Proof you can probably survive a Meteor:

(The Witch uses her spell...for 66 damage.)

-----

Let's Say, Theoretically, She Gets Arrested. What Happens?

(Old image my girlfriend made years ago. Little did we know how it'd end.)

Prosecuting her will very much be a challenge because simply put, there's no damn police in Madou/Primp. Well, good ones at least.

For you see, there ARE police in Primp or Madou as a whole. But in Quest, there's police in Intral City, the place Atari's from, but unfortunately, even in there, they don't exactly do much.

Call up Miles Edgeworth and teleport him here, then we got a shot, or even some other stupid good lawyer.

I'm no Laywer, but I think she'd go to jail for her crimes.

-----

Conclusion:

The Witch is a very dangerous felon. Armed and Dangerous, it's best to stay as far away as possible, especially if your name is Schezo Wegey or occasionally Arle Nadja. If you see her...well, you have the steps, or you can say fuck it and ball. Your choice.

-----

And Now, Actual Updates:

I enjoyed writing this, it was fun. With this, I'll repeat myself from last posts.

I'll be taking a 2 week break from this. I'm experiencing minor burnout and I do need a break, I've been doing this consistently for a couple of months now.

I'll also be taking a break during Thanksgiving week, Christmas, and New Years week as well to spend time with family.

Thank you all for your support, it means an absolute ton to me and I'm grateful I have people who actually love my work. Hell, I've even made a few new friends from this, and I couldn't be any happier with the progress I made.

I began this stuff on the notion that no one will read these, but it'd be better to document these sorta things just for fun. Little did I know, a little over 35 followers later, that people would enjoy what I made and the info I share, even if some of it is... somewhat peculiar. The support I've gotten from the community is unreal, and it's genuinely appreciated that you guys care so much. Even you reading this means a lot to me.

Thanks guys. Happy Halloween. Hope you enjoyed the show.

[thiriann]

Extraterrestrial - Chapter 3 "Insecurity"

My Githyanki playthrough inspired me to write a fic about my gith, Ilaara and Astarion's adventures. Haven't written in over a decade but Astarion got me to try again. Astarion POV for most of it.

This is a continuation of an ongoing fic.

You can also find me on AO3

Pairing: Tav X Astarion, F/M.

Content: Githyanki Tav, Astarion (Baldur's Gate), Alien Cultural Differences, Cleric Tav, Astarion Being Astarion, Flirting, Seduction, Biting,Vampire Bites,Blood Drinkin, no sex in this chapter but will be in later ones. Ongoing fic

Words: 2k

Summary:As the group readies to depart from the grove, Astarion finds himself wrestling with the mystery that is Ilaara.

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

The previous night had been incredible, but in the light of day, he could admit he had gotten carried away.

The irony was not lost on him—the first gesture of kindness he'd received came from someone not of this world.

As she woke, he approached, trying to gauge her feelings now that she’d had a few hours to mull things over.

“Good morning. How do you feel?” he tried to make his tone sound caring, yet there was an undercurrent of caution.

“I'm fine, I just feel a little woozy.” she replied, her rigid posture and stern expression belying her words.

“It'll pass. Just be glad I'm not a 'true' vampire. A bite from them and you might wake up as a vampire spawn, like my good self. All of a vampire's hunger, but few of their powers.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, lips pressed into a thin line. That confirmed it—he was a vampire; that's why he needed blood. She struggled to recall what she knew of his kind—so many creatures in this world, and his was not well-known. Fortunately, he seemed willing to share details of his condition.

Before he could decipher her expression, she asked ,“Any other drawbacks I should know about?”

“Oh, I've no idea. For two hundred years, the sun would have turned me to cinders. Until the crash, when I woke up bathed in its light.” he shared, revealing the thoughts that had plagued him since the crash “Someone - or something - wants me alive. They've changed the rules.”

“Standing in the sun, wading through a river, wandering into homes without an invitation - they're all perfectly mundane activities now.” he continued, his voice tinged with wonder.

“As for my other quirks - well, we can figure those out in time.” he concluded with a salacious wink.

“What's causing this? The mind flayer's parasite?” Ilaara inquired. It was highly unusual for the tadpole to cause such side effects, but then again, they hadn't encountered many of his kind who'd been infected.

“That's my theory, but who knows?” he mused. She hummed under her breath, this was a fascinating revelation indeed.

“I'm just glad you're being sensible about these revelations. I was worried people might turn up with torches and pitchforks.” he admitted.

“Although there's still time,” he added, glancing nervously over her shoulder.

Their teammates were approaching, standing by her side.

“A vampire among us? So be it.” Lae’zel declared sternly “For his sake, he best not develop an appetite for githyanki.”

She eyed Ilaara, her judgment clear. If all Githyanki tasted like her, resisting would indeed be a challenge—not that he would dare risk Lae’zel's wrath.

“Given our group's nature, I don't see much harm. We're each monsters in the making, after all.” Shadowheart chimed in.

A flicker of pain crossed Astarion’s features. It really was all he was in the end. Just another monster.

“Enough,” Ilaara cut through the tension “I trust him. He won't hurt us.”

“Quite the opposite. I'm here in the spirit of openness and honesty, to work together as a team.” Astarion asserted, hoping to bolster Ilaara's defense of him.

“Fine - he stays, 'til he's no longer of use. Besides, my flesh is not so easily tasted.” Lae’zel declared, her gaze lingering on Ilaara before she turned away.

“You say all the right words, but I'm not so sure you mean the right things. Still, I will respect the decision that was made.” Gale remarked, his skepticism apparent as he left.

Alone at last, Astarion exhaled a sigh of relief. One more hurdle avoided, for now.

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

Luckily the day carried on.

Ilaara had refused to get involved in the squabble between the druids and the squatting tieflings insisting they didn’t have time to be sidetracked. True enough they could turn into mindflayers at any moment.

“We should gather supplies from the grove before we set to the road” she proposed, leading them to spend the day haggling for supplies bartering for goods.

“Ah, if it isn't the talk o' the camp?” greeted one of the grannies, her tone a blend of surprise and delight.

“It's a rare day I see one of you lot about. Thank goodness you came along when you - oh!” she gasped concerned “You look more green then yellow, petal! Are you hurt? Cold? Feverish?”

“Auntie Ethel will sort you out. I've lotions and potions galore!” she assured, bustling with an array of concoctions.

“Why she sounds positively demented.” Astarion mused with a grin “I love it! Let's tell her everything.”

Ilaara shot him a sceptical glance.

“She is not to know of the... our ailment. Only a gith healer may make us pure.” Lae’zel chimed in, scolding him.

“You could be friend or foe. Why should I drink anything you prepare?” Ilaara challenged.

 “I know githyanki make a habit of paranoia, but 'tis just a healing potion.” the granny retorted.

“A being like you knows of the gith?” Ilaara probed, suspicion lacing her tone.

“Yes, and you're as grumpy as I remember. No offence, love but...” Auntie Ethel deftly sidestepped the question “...you don't look well. Are you all right?”

“My health is my concern, not yours.” Ilaara snapped back, her patience wearing thin.

“Ah, don't be grumpy, petal. I only want to help.” The granny offered cheerfully.

“I've got a mind flayer parasite in my head.” Ilaara stated bluntly.

Auntie Ethel noded along - her eyes wid. “I see no sign of a tentacle yet, but that could change in an instant. You need help, serious help.”

“I've ne'er a potion or lotion here that could do it, but...” she trailed off thinking “...yes. I may have something at home!”

“You'll have to stop by my house - just at the edge of the forest! Let me mark it on your map. I'll be heading back soon, so I can meet you there.” She marked a spot on Ilaara’s map with haste.

“See you around, petal,” she called out, departing with a wave.

“We don’t have time to be paying house visits.” Lae’zel said pulling Ilaara to the side. “Our kin offer the only cure.”

“That is true.” Ilaara nodded in agreement. “We cannot trust this woman. But she was rather…unusual.”

“You there! Saw you fighting those slimy bastards.” an older tiefling bellowed,“Fancy a bowl?”

Ilaara arched a brow, intrigued. “This is a delicacy in your land? I’ll try anything once.” She said, accepting the gruel.

Astarion grimaced at the sight.  It appeared more repulsive than he remembered solid food being and smelled awful. His vampiric diet suddenly didn’t seem so bad.

“Ha! That’s a good attitude.” the tiefling praised. “Here. Have some more. We’ll need every bit of strength to make it to Baldur’s Gate. Trust me.”

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

They’d managed to pick up the famed Blade of Frontiers as part of their little group, much to Astarion’s dismay. He was chasing some devil from the hells, and Lae’zel claimed they didn’t have time to help him in his mission, but Ilaara had insisted they needed to help every infected so as not to spread the mindflayer infestation. Even in the middle of the wilderness, they’d managed to take into their camp the first monster hunter they’d found.

At least everyone knew Astarion was a vampire now, so he wouldn’t have to worry about their reaction, but having Wyll at the camp still made him feel very unsafe. Ilaara had protected him after he’d bitten her, but for how long would that continue before she found him a threat? She would undeniably stand against him if he told her he intended to take control of the tadpole instead of getting rid of it.

He had to hurry up his plan and win her over to his side.

Still, despite her unexpected generosity, she seemed rather unimpressed by his charms. He could hardly tell on her face, always scolded in a neutral expression, a true soldier she was.

He had the urge to ask her to Three-Dragon Ante, just to see who'd give away less out of the two of them. But he tried to push aside notions like that and focus on the task at hand. As time went on he slowly started noticing the small shifts in her expressions, the briefest changes really, but he noticed. All the time spent  studying her was paying off bit by bit. He had to know though, if what he was doing was getting to her. He supposed he could always take a small peek inside her mind and confirm or deny his suspicions. But the sheer thought of going into her head, her mind uninvited, repulsed him.

Doubt crept in. Usually, his charm and a few flirty lines were enough to get potential targets at least partially interested. Should he switch things up? Attempt a show of martial skill, or... gods, what did gith even find appealing?  Maybe it was the nose? He had overheard Lae'zel talk about it, calling it a mistake.

That brought an interesting idea to mind. The following day, he procured what he needed. As the camp settled into rest, he took out a mirror he had stashed from one of the vendors they encountered. He had often wondered about the face so many raved about, the one so many drunken songs were sung and poems written. But much to his disappointment the tadpole hadn't affected that – he still didn’t possess a reflection.

Bitterness swelled within as he gazed into the void.

“Looking at something?” he asked, noticing Ilaara's approach.

“Just looking. What are you doing?” she asked.

“I'm looking too, but not seeing very much. Another quirk of my affliction.” he sneered at the mirror.

“Vanity is a weakness.” she deadpanned, not really surprising him with her declaration.

“It's an indulgence, I'll grant you, but a weakness? A well-presented face can open a lot of doors.” he said, swifty changing his expression to an easy, welcoming smile with ease.

“Not that I've seen this face. Not since it grew fangs and its eyes turned red.” 

“What colour were they before?” Ilaara asked, perplexed. She had no idea eyes could change upon this kind of transformation.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she made a note to document the vampire-specific detail she was learning into the tir’su slate.

“I... I don't know. I can't remember.” he confessed, surprising them both.

“My face is just some dark shape in my past. Another thing I've lost.” he hissed, throwing the mirror in anger.

Unexpectedly, she leaned into him, catching him off guard.

“What?” he asked, confused.

 “I'll be your mirror. What do you want to know?”

“I want to know what the world sees when it looks at me. What you see.” he implored.

“An elven vampire spawn, approximately 5'11", medium build...” she began listing.

“Gods above. Would it kill you to dispense a compliment?” he scolded.

He felt a twinge of delight at the panic that flashed in her eyes. Her composure faltering for just a moment.

“When you smile, your face wrinkles. It is comforting.” she said finally.

“Excuse me? I'm an eternally young vampire, not your doting grandmother.” he retorted, pretending to be insulted. “You can do better. What else?”

Her eyes twinkled with understanding before she answered, “That dangerous smile.”

“Very good. Now just tell me I'm beautiful and we can call it a day.” he waved, pleased.

Ilaara gave him a strange look then, a little half smile on her face. She’d never called anyone beautiful before. Physical appearance had never mattered much to her people and neither had observations regarding it. But as he stood before her now, she couldn’t deny his enchanting features.

“You're beautiful.” she conceded.

“Observant.” he stated “Mirrors aren't much use, but being reflected in someone else's eyes?”

“ Well, I could do worse.” he smiled, clearly pleased with their interaction.

He watched her as she walked away. It seemed his little experiment had proven successful. With a significantly boosted ego, he strolled out of the camp preparing to hunt.