#using the filtered tags and filtered post content has served me well so far

[worldsentwined]

*tired sigh* every day I get one step closer to unfollowing the Murderbot diaries tag.

[hetalianhistorian]

Thanks for 150 Followers + upcoming plans for this blog!!

Hey everyone!! Thank you for over 150 followers on Tumblr! Although I really should've have made this kind of post at 100, haha. I'm very surprised by the attention that has managed to gather ever since starting this blog. 150 followers may not seem like a whole lot, but that's 150 people who I have achieved my goal with: informing others providing accessible means of official Hetalia news and more!

Thank you so much once again! I'll do my best to keep posting consistently and updating. It's been such a huge pleasure to help serve the community thus far! For 150 followers, I'll be celebrating by posting future plans that will soon be implemented onto the blog! If you are interested, please feel free to expand by the post below.

Proper Tagging and Formatting: This is the one that has bothered me the most by far. For several of my posts thus far, there has been inconsistencies on the tagging and formatting of my posts. I'll be going back and doing a large clean up to set a standard on format depending on the type of post (merchandise, manga, Hetamyu). Alongside with fixing tags and putting up new ones so that archiving and filtering this blog will be easier and dependable for any future use.

Second blog: I would also like to make a second account in the future for both Tumblr and Youtube made for archiving any official Hetalia content. The main blog (this one) serves as a news/information/educational source (alongside with my own general fanart), it will not suffice for major archiving. The hope is that the archival blog will be up-to-date with all official Hetalia content still remaining and providing that accessibility of the content to the fandom. This one will be a tedious project, as trying to archive over 15+ years of Hetalia content is absolutely a lot harder than simply reporting the news. So bear with me here as this will be its own project that will take its time.

Future projects: Still haven't forgotten about the flower project and more! Those are its own tedious tasks with a lot of research required and executing. Right now, I'm also working on a project documenting all Hetalia birthdays for all the major characters from the series and hopefully that will be shared soon! Special thanks to @arumidden on helping me with both of these projects so far and doing so, so much work for it. They've done a lot more work than I can put into words and I'm genuinely so grateful

Blog overhaul: There is a severe lack of design and customization within the blog and all the accounts. After the flowers and birthday projects are out of the way, I'll be make custom art and fixing up custom designs for the blog! Alongside with setting up pages with its own dedicated category, FAQ, and more! Stay tuned!

That's a lot and quite a bit ambitious, but it was really exciting to share my plans for the future! Please patient as the projects and blog continues to be developed and hopefully you can around the news that will keep being posted as well! Hopefully all of that made sense as I am very sleepy right now. It means a lot and it's been such a joy to host this blog. Thank you so much again for all your support. Hetalian Historian

[pa-panda-heroes]

blue hour.

demon!au!dabi x reader nsfw; find the sequel here

Inspired (sorta) by this post. This was initially a 400 followers celebration fic but took so long I got to 500, plus it’s Halloween!! 🎃🎃🎃

i listened to Mothica’s song Blue Hour while i wrote this and honestly fell in love with it. hence the name! please go give her a listen!

Minors, go away. This content is not for you.

Warnings: brief description of kidnapping, tiny mentions of religion (nonspecified tho!) and human sacrifice, injury + blood mention, foul language, brief cremation, Dabi being horny (hehe), Dabi absolutely 100% not using magic on you nope, thigh fucking, orgasm denial, biting, dirty talk, degradation?, spanking, overstimulation, dumbification if you squint?

Words: 14k+

Summary: Kidnapped and held as an offering to an ominous demon, you thought your death was near. Soon enough you find your captor dead and the demon you were offered to becomes your savior. Dabi clearly has plans for you, but what are they? Or was everything just a dream?

Your heartbeat thrummed within your ears, sweat sweltering and becoming a thick layer on your skin all over, making the fabric of your clothes cling to it ever-so-uncomfortably. It felt like you were being smothered from head to toe in fabric. The cooled blood that began just above your temple and trickled all the way down your face and neck had dried by now, acting as a crusty reminder of the reason behind the throbbing in your head. Trees swayed in the chilly winds that passed, making the cool air even colder - yet here you were, sweating like there was no tomorrow. You were bound by the wrists and ankles to a musty wooden pole in a forest you’d never seen before, the sky dark yet bright for the blue moon. The stars looked so free, so beautiful, so serene tonight. Yet you didn’t feel it.

Your breathing was quick, panicked, and hurried to the extent that you’d take in more oxygen by breathing less. Your poor, puffy lip was numb from having been chewed on so much, to the point where you couldn’t remember whether you were a chronic lip biter or not; but you sure were, now. That is, until he gagged you by tying an old handkerchief around your face. You struggled against your scratchy, dry restraints so much, they began to dig into your skin and bleed, sending a trail of blood down your arms and a jolt of burning, throbbing, stinging pain through your nerves.

You were far from alone.  

The only other human body you knew of was the one who put you in the position you currently find yourself in after a night of dancing, booze, and sweat. The inebriation from the alcohol made you an easy target, you guessed. God damn it all.

The night began with your celebrating a friend’s birthday at a club, drinking, dancing, and making merry. You had regretted agreeing to go at first after having a long, agonizingly tiring day at work, which gave you the burning desire to wrap up after a bath and lay in bed until the next day when you’d have to get up again. But as the night progressed, you were glad you tagged along; after all, it was an unexpectedly nice release after a bad day.  

Now you were regretting it again.

If only you hadn’t gone to the club.  

If only hadn’t agreed even if begrudgingly to go.

If only you hadn’t left your apartment.  

You made the mistake of trying to find a bathroom on your own and ended up in an alleyway. The last thing you saw was a filthy dumpster before it all went black, and upon waking you found yourself bound in this horrifying forest.

Around you was a circular dirt clearing bordered with a solid line and filled with various marks made upon it, ones that you’d never seen before. They looked to be of a lost, long-dead language - the language your masked captor was evidently speaking as he sat on his knees with his hands in the air before a makeshift altar of a sort. There was some distance between him and the altar, probably about two meters, that being the same distance he sat from you as you watched in horror.  

He was going to kill you, but not before torturing you - or other things. For some hideous purposes that looked a lot to do with a demon or something. All because you were a virgin that just so happened to cross his path.

You tried making noises, tried screaming, but it made no difference. He wouldn’t stop his hideous chanting and no one could hear you anyway. The thick forest swallowed your every scream and the gag held back your every cry. More tears run down your cheeks at your predicament, your struggling against your binds only digging into and stinging your skin as piping hot blood continued to trail down your tender wrists and ankles. It felt like frostbite was setting in. Was it actually, or was it your nerves? 

A pillar of black smoke began to rise from the ground in front of your masked captor, who then bowed with his forehead to the ground. Your own heart was beating in your ears so quickly you thought it would explode any minute. If only it would - you wouldn’t have to endure this any longer. 

“What... the hell do you want?” you hear a voice boom, distorted in such a way that made it sound like it echoed a thousand times. “Filthy human.” 

“Your favor, my lord. I offer you this virgin.”

You try screaming again, your throat beginning to feel scratchy and dry. It almost felt like it was bleeding. Could it be bleeding? Your mind was almost a haze, now. 

You can see a form emerge from the ground where the black smoke stands, and you’re stunned and scared into total silence as you see the silhouette of two large wings and a pointed tail. Other than that, the silhouette appears mostly human. But it’s not.

“My favor, eh?” you hear the voice again. The silhouette swings his arm and with it vanishes the smoke, and the reality that this... thing isn’t human finally settles in your heart. His hair is black and spiky, there are pieces of what look to be burnt flesh under his minty eyes and the lower half of his face, bound to the unblemished skin by silvery staples that seemed to spit steam. Three dotted piercings adorned his nose, and plenty more his ears. His wings reminded you of a bird’s with feathers and all, and they were a flat charcoal in colour, albeit they seemed a little worse for wear and severely burnt. The demon’s horns poked out from each side of his forehead and curled around like that of a ram’s. He wore a dark, simple cloak.  

You almost wondered if he had goat hooves for feet.

He looks down on the human who summoned him, literally and figuratively, it seemed. His eyes narrow viciously at the man, before jolting to you - and you, honest to all that exists, feel what you can only think of as a bolt of lightning course through every nerve - no, cell - of your body before it feels like your heart stops beating. You can feel the blood coursing in your veins, and it’s ice-cold, all of this forcing you to tense every muscle you’re able. He looks away and you’re instantly back to normal, slouching in your restraints.  

“Is this asshole bothering you, little one?” the voice of what’s clearly a demon rings.

“I-I beg your pardon, m’lord Dabi?” 

“Shut your trap, moron.” Clusters of the brightest, bluest flames you’d ever seen erupt above each of the demon’s eyes and he leans downward to grab the man by his neck, before easily lifting him in the air as the human choked. “Y’know, back in the day, sacrifices in some cultures were an honor. It was seen as a gift, a way to serve ancient -  nonexistent, mind you -  gods. People vied to become a sacrificial lamb. I’m ancient, too, you know that.”

The human man stammers and stutters, trying to say something coherent but failing out of fear.  

Dabi lets the man rest his feet on the ground as he jerks your captor to look at you, and you want to just shrink into yourself. “What the fuck is that, huh? Do you see the fear in her eyes? The bruises covering her body? The blood seeping down her arms as she fights against that rope? Does that look like a willing sacrifice to you? Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t think she is willing at all.”

You blink. What? How? Why?

“You piss me off.”

Dabi throws the masked man to the ground away from him, then raising his palm into the air and summoning flames to filter out of the ground. They swallow him hole, and whilst he’s screaming in agony and burning alive, the demon turns on his heel and saunters your way. “Well, this is quite a mess, eh, dear?” His eyebrows are pointed upward, almost as if the gentle tone behind his words is sincere, yet almost as if there is deviance behind them.

You can’t help but gulp at the look in his eyes. Smile and arch his brows as he might, he was still clearly a demon unfitting of your trust. Right? He was going to hurt you. Surely.

His hands reach up for your face and you shut your eyes tight and turn away.

Much to your surprise, fingers work away at the handkerchief splitting open your poor, stretched, and saliva-coated lips, and you nearly gasp at the relief of pressure on them, the ache in your cheeks quite apparent and downright agonizing. Not only that, but the corners of your mouth were rubbed raw, and you weren’t sure if there was saliva mixing with more saliva, or blood mixing with saliva at the site. Dabi drags a finger from the corner of your mouth up to your cheek to wipe away the tears staining your skin, and you have no strength to fight the shiver that runs up your spine as your eyes fall half-lidded.

“Fuck me, you’re lookin’ a bit worse for wear, little one,” you hear him coo. “Easy, babe. You’re alright. That ugly, scary man’s all gone.” He seems to chuckle at the irony, before a toothy smirk splits his lips. His teeth are sharp, certainly enough to puncture skin without much effort, and you shiver again.

You’re quickly relieved of your bounds, but with the little strength you have left, you’re not able to stand on your own and collapse into his chest, spent and sore. He’s warm. It’s... nice. Fuzzy. Cloudy. Soft. Where are you, again? What’s going on? Why is everything spinning?

Everything fades to black.

:·•·:

You groan and turn over in your bed, pulling the fluffy covers up closer to your head as your body ached. You were warm and settled in, nothing could make you leave the comforts of your bed, yet you knew you needed to. To explain the achy joints, you tried reminiscing the night before. You remembered that night. Parts of it, anyway. When you tried to remember the feeling of being bound or the blood trickling down your wrists, nothing came up. When you tried remembering the chanting of your captor - nothing. It seemed that any parts which could be deemed... unsavory were gone from your memory. You brought your wrists up and felt around them and-

Also gone were any wounds.

It was odd. You could remember it all happening, but at the same time, you couldn’t. Must’ve been some whacked out dream induced by the alcohol.

You had no want to, but you sat up in bed and reached over to your nightstand to switch he clock around so you could see it. It read about half an hour after midday, and you sighed. How long were you asleep? You picked up your phone from the nightstand and switched it on, your heart leaping into your throat at the amount of notifications. Texts, emails, calls, there were dozens upon dozens of them.

“How long was I asleep?!” you shriek.

“Enough to nearly get evicted.”

Your head jolts up so quickly you hear your neck crack, and you see the demon leaning against the wall in front of your bed. You can’t help but gasp and scoot away, your back banging against the headboard of your bed. It wasn’t a dream.

He waves his hand lazily. “But don’t worry, I got it covered. Congrats, you have free rent for life, now.” His wings, horns, and tail are all gone, and he almost looks human, save for the staples and scars. You guess he can’t change his appearance much. Perhaps he doesn’t want to.

The teeth showing off from his smirk look just as sharp as before, however.

Your eyes are drawn to the huggies piercing the cartilage of his ears. They’re as shiny and plentiful as you remember. Your heart rate spikes, and you begin to breathe heavily.

“That soreness is probably from you bein’ out so long, sweets,” he comments, arms crossed in front of his chest, his right ankle also crossed over his left. His voice is smooth and a clear attempt at comforting you - yet there’s something behind it.

“Th-thank you. For saving me, and... the rent... I guess.” You hoped he would leave if you thanked him. Why else would he stick around?

He only shrugs, though. “Sorry, little one, but you’re not special. That sacrifice wasn’t done right in the first place.”

‘Ouch!’

Ah, you remembered that, now. But you couldn’t remember his name.

“What’s your name?” you ask hesitantly. He’s obviously not going to kill you by now. Why would he stick around?

“Dabi.”

“That’s it?” You tilt your head. You were surprised at how... nonchalant you were beginning to feel about this. The longer he stood there, the more it felt normal.

“That’s it, dollface.”

:·•·:

He ended up not having goat hooves for feet.

You knew there was a catch to being saved by that demonic bastard.

Aside from the fact that he wouldn’t leave you alone, keeping a demon cooped up in your apartment wasn’t easy. It especially wasn’t easy when said demon was constantly on your heels, pressed right up against your back. Personal space was not in his vocabulary. Dabi was constantly up to something, and he loved to harass or scare your neighbors with his devilish form; it was just too easy. “What else have I got to do while you’re gone all day?” he’d say. “Gotta entertain myself, somehow, doll.”

Apparently, it had been a long time since someone had summoned him at all, let alone with an offering of some kind. He hadn’t seen the mortal realm in hundreds of years, and because you were offered to him, he decided to stick around you. You only agreed to it as long as he never left your apartment.

Well, technically. He wasn’t actually giving you a choice, he was going to stick around anyway. Dabi so loved giving innocent mortals the impression that they were in control when they never truly were. The demon practically got off on the idea of giving a helpless little thing like you a false sense of security.

Having him essentially stuck to your hip, you couldn’t let him cause any trouble with the human world, be it harmless pranks or downright murder; hence why you left a line of salt in front of every opening to your place one day, to keep him home. He was a curious demon, a sketchy one.

And a bit of a horny one, at that.

If the groping or peeking in on your showers wasn’t enough of a clue, the fact that he did everything else in his power to seduce you certainly was.

Demons don’t sleep. They’re immortal, they don’t need to. Yet, as you lay snuggled up in your bed at night, he always snuck in with you to poke and prod at you, the exchange usually ending with you kicking him out of bed - sometimes literally. Other times, he’d randomly lean into your ear and say the filthiest things you’d ever heard - and then some, obviously - to get a rise out of you, giving him the opportunity to tease you about unconsciously clenching your thighs, whether it was for friction or out of denial.

You were starting to think he was a damn incubus.

But no, he denied that. He looked almost insulted when you made the insinuation before explaining that incubi and succubi are one and the same, changing back and forth between male and female. First as a succubus, the demon collects... “seed,” and then transforms into an incubus to “plant” it. He could change his physical appearance if he so wished, but he never had much want or need to, save for hiding away or using his devilish form; nor could he procreate, he was so proud to tell you.

It seemed the fact that you were a virgin only spurred him on to seduce you. With Dabi being the vile and damned being that he is, you thought he wouldn’t give a damn (ha) if you consented or not at first. The thought was honestly horrifying. Yet not once had he forced you or went too far. It was “poor taste,” he once said, there being no fun in it. You wondered if his rule of consenting sacrifices played a part in his discipline.

And of course, Dabi would go on about how badly he, a demon, an unsavory being to say the least, wanted to be the one to take your virginity and “defile” you, “the pure, innocent treat that you are.”

Defile? Really?

And treat?

‘Pick better wording next time you sex-starved, pointy-tail-having, staple-wearing, horned son of a bitch,’ you thought sarcastically, shoving dishes into their proper places after having dried them. He’d left you alone for most of the day, talking to you and treating you like he was a normal human being. ‘Then, maybe I’d consider letting you get your dick wet.’

Would you, though?

Nah...

Right.

One of the plates was a little wet still, and managed to slip out of your hand and shatter on the counter in front of you. You yelped when a shard cut into your palm after you’d instinctively reached to catch the plate, failing miserably. “Dammit,” you mutter, holding your left hand up to inspect the cut. From the looks of it, no stitches were needed, but it still stung like hell.

You should’ve known better than to think he cooled his jets for the day, because in an instant he’s standing next to your left side and reaching for your wrist.

“It’s fine, just a tiny cut,” you mutter, quirking a brow as he seemingly glares at the wound. “I think I’ve got a first-aid kit somewhere... Have to keep it clean, at least.”

“Nah, don’t need it,” he mutters, before pulling your hand toward his mouth. His tongue slithers out from between his lips and drags along the cut in your palm, the wet appendage searing against your skin.

A shiver runs down your spine at the sensation, and yet another soars when you see the hungry, predatory look in his eyes, which are fixed on your wound. You can’t help the gulp that sounds from your tight throat, or the yelp that fights out of your lips when his whole mouth latches onto the fatty part of your thumb where the cut is. Your knees begin to feel weak and your eyes fall half-lidded.

Dabi sucks on the flesh there, licking the wound occasionally as well. His eyes then flicker to yours, and they burn into you like no other ever has. You feel the heat of a blush trail up your neck and to your cheeks and ears, your heart thrumming in your chest and lips slowly falling open just a tad as he licks away at the opening in your skin.

“Ah-“

The demon pulls away with a pop from one final suck of your flesh, whilst a trail of his saliva - do demons have saliva?! - hung between your hand and his mouth. “See? Take a look.” He pushes your hand towards your view, and amidst the clear wetness on your skin, you see no wound at all.

Your mind flips back to the wounds you should have had from that night.

“Back then... did you... y’know...”

“Naah. There’s spells and the like for bigger stuff like that,” he explains nonchalantly with a shrug. He almost seems proud of himself with his next line. “Tiny paper cuts like this can be taken care of with good ol’ fashioned demon spit. It’s nice, huh?”

You deadpan at him. “No, it’s totally gross.”

Dabi chuckles at you, waving a hand as if to wave you off. “Admit it. Your virgin ass enjoyed it.” His words are crass, but you know he’s only teasing and they’re not meant to insult.

Yet it still riles you up.

That heat crawls up your neck again, and you huff at him. “Shut up!” you gripe, then turning away from him to at least try to clean up the dish shards. There was nothing wrong with being a virgin! A lot of people wait for the right person, or they just aren’t ready. People have their reasons, and there’s no shame in it! Just like there’s no shame in being the opposite. As long as it’s healthy, that’s all that matters!

“Jerk! You seem to forget whose apartment you’re squatting in!” you grumble, scooting the pieces of the plate you broke together - ever so gently - with a washcloth from the sink. “I could kick you out, y’know.” You forgot for a short moment that he managed to achieve free rent for life for you, but you told yourself it wouldn’t matter anyway. It was still your apartment, after all.

“Really, now?” The demon scoffs, then leaning against the counter and crossing his arms - clearly at you. “How would you go about that, little mouse?” His tone is unconvinced and sultry, the look on his face painted with doubt.

You avoided eye contact with him and perused the kitchen for a plastic bag before marching back to the mess of plate shards and trying to sweep them off the counter and into the bag. “I’d exorcise you,” you mutter. Finding a priest in this area would prove difficult, but you could manage to find one willing to travel. You could do it if needed.

Dabi only laughs you off, though. The sound is smooth and velvety, yet you’re left to describe it as littered with smoke and ecstasy. “C’mon, doll! That wouldn’t work,” he says finally. “Besides, we both know you don’t wanna do that. You like havin’ my sorry ass around too much, eh?”

“Ha! You’re right about you being a sorry ass,” you sass with a huff before tossing the bag into the waste-bin.

Oddly enough, while you’d never tell Dabi this and end up stroking his already massive ego, you felt safer with him around. It was hard to pinpoint why. Nothing had happened for him to be called to protect you; however, you lived in a less than savory part of town, which wasn’t entirely unbearable, but shit still happens. And you’ve already been abducted once, leading to your acquaintance with this horny (I’m more ways than one) asshole. Maybe it was because you knew part of what he can do, all that aside. Push comes to shove, he’d protect you, right?

That was a nice thought to have, if a bit naive, you thought.

He was a demon, not a guardian angel of some sort. He had no obligations to you.

Yet here he was, still living with you over a month after that awful night.

Your thoughts are completely swept away when you’re pushed by the hips against the counter with your back to it, your hands instinctively bracing the edge on each side of your hips for support. The demon’s face is immediately in front of yours, his breath easily filling your nostrils with an ashen smell. You see those horns of his again and have to fight the urge to reach up and grab one, maybe even give it a tug. He’d probably cremate you for it.

Could he hear your thoughts? Previous instances somewhat insinuated that he could, but he never admitted to it - or denied it.

Dabi was right. You don’t want to get rid of him. Especially not when he’s looking at you like that. There is an intensity in those half-lidded, fiery eyes of his that has never before been directed at you by anyone, and it leaves you wishing you could read his thoughts. Are his eyes merely looking at your own, or are they bearing into your soul, calculating and appraising it?

What you can tell is that it’s full of impatience and want. Greed. Lust. And so much of it all.

You tilt your chin down a bit and look up at him with a gulp quietly. You can’t think of anything to say, and tension builds within your chest as you search; you feel as if that silence ought to be filled, yet here you are, at a loss for words as you stare at your own reflection in his glossy eyes. On the other hand, he seems totally content letting you lie in it, letting you squirm for him as he smirks.

And so you look away, bringing your hands to your chest and holding them there bashfully. The sleeves of your sweater are soft and warm and plush - just how Dabi would describe you right now.

This maneuver of yours not being what he wanted, Dabi scowls a bit and grabs your chin to essentially force you to look at him, his thumb ghosting over the softness of your lower lip. He tilts his head at you almost curiously, perhaps evaluating your reaction as it’s been so long since he has seen or felt the mortal world. Those eyes narrow at you, though not out of ire. Dabi’s thumb pokes at the crevice between your lips, and the rest of his fingers on your jaw tug downward.

Confused, you comply anyway and part your lips for him, only for his thumb to invade your mouth and press hard on your tongue, coaxing you to gag and instinctively grasp both hands on his wrist. You attempt to pull it away, to relieve the pressure in your mouth, but he doesn’t want that.

Hell, in reality, neither do you. You just don’t feel like gagging and clouding your vision with tears.

Aw, you poor dear.

With a contemplative hum he pulls his appendage out of your mouth and holds it not far from your mouth, as if planning another venture into your wet cavern. You can’t help but stare at the string of saliva still connecting your lips and his hand as it glistens in the low lighting of your kitchenette.

“Open back up for me,” he huskily demands, but it’s not cruel and dictating, so you comply, entranced as if under a spell. But you know you’re not. This time, it’s his forefinger and middle finger that roam between your teeth, and as if he had told you to do so telepathically, you close your lips around them. With an innocent, doll-eyed look, you suck his fingers and lick at them with your tongue, earning yourself hushed praises and a searing trail of touches up your ribcage and back down. You continue to lick away, occasionally wrapping your tongue around his digits or cradling them as you suck on them, coating them in your saliva as some of it trails out one of the corners of your mouth. They feel cold, as if there was a lack of circulation, and it only spurs you on to warm them with the toasty cavern of your mouth and soft plushness of your tongue.

You’re sure you’re less than apt at this, but the praise and touch you’re receiving helps you feel less... off.

Dabi leans in for your ear, his hot breath against your cartilage sending a chill down your spine before his wet tongue laps at it, and you jump in your skin at the burning, completely unknown sensation. It’s so hot it almost stings, but it’s not painful; tingly, maybe. In the process you lean away to your left a bit, at which he seems to pause. But then you lean back as if to tell him to go on, and you can nearly hear the simper he gives just before he latches onto your ear, licking and nibbling away as you tremble and whimper around his fingers. The heat at your core throbs in tandem with your racing heartbeat, creating a melody of your arousal that you hoped only you could witness.

But you knew better than to doubt the senses of a demon.

“You’re doin’ good, doll,” he breathes into your ear, aggravating the sound of blood flushing through your ears and the thump of your heartbeat. “Such a good girl for me...”

The digits in your mouth get a little adventurous and explore your wet cavern a bit, but they’re quick to push down on your tongue again and you gag around them. Tears start to pool within your eyelids and your whimper is stuck in your throat.

The demon then unceremoniously pulls his fingers from your mouth to reach down at the hem of your sweater and yank it up over the swell of your chest, leaving your torso and bra-covered breasts bare. Dabi seems to drink up the sight of you as if it were a sweet wine he hadn’t indulged in for centuries. Both his hands then trail ghostly fingers - really, they felt like spiders - up your belly and to your sternum. You shiver and a mewl fights out of your throat unexpectedly, your back arching unintentionally toward him as you clutch onto his forearms. Dabi lets out a hot breath, just thereafter his hands roughly squeeze your breasts through your bra as he grinds his pelvis against yours, the outline of his hardened cock clear as day against you. You don’t even try to fight back the moan it elicits as your head droops back at the stimulation.

Why bother, right?

The inhuman entity before you takes the opportunity to use your open mouth, his own latching into yours and tongue exploring your mouth in a battle for dominance you have absolutely no hope to win as he makes a mushy mess of you. You accidentally lacerate your tongue on the sharp point of one of Dabi’s teeth and flinch a bit, the sting on your tongue nearly coaxing you to pull away while the taste of iron floods your mouths. That tase you could certainly live without only encourages him, as Dabi growls and grips the base of your neck to hold your head in place as he quite metaphorically devours your tongue with his own, before his teeth latch onto your lower lip and you squeak in surprise as he pulls away.

“Aw, what’s’a matter, little mouse?” Dabi taunts, left palm dropping to rub against your clothed sex.

“Ah, Dabi-!” You jolt at the sudden stimulation on your clit and breathe in hard. Even if there are a couple layers keeping his bare hand from touching you, if feels damn good to have someone else touch you like this. Ripples of warmth flood through you and you feel your body temperature rocketing. Your own breath feels as though it’s on fire as it leaves your heavily salivated mouth and bloody lips in rabid succession, alongside your increasingly rapid heartbeat. Your grip on his firm arms tightens and you resist the urge to grind against him as he continues his ministrations. “Fuck...”  Your lips throbbed, yet you weren’t sure if it was from the tiny wounds he created or your blood pressure spiking.

“Hm?” The demon hums, inquisitive and high in pitch - yet maybe condescending. “‘Fuck,’ huh?” His grip on the back of your neck relaxes only slightly before his tongue pokes out of his mouth and drags along your lower lip, lapping away at the blood pooling there and drawing a slight whine from you. “What about it? You sayin’ you want me to fuck you, doll? Tell me.”

Blood rushes to your face like there was a race and your eyes wander from his bashfully, instead choosing to look at the horns cutting through his spiky black hair. He’s right, you do, you have to admit it. But admitting it out loud was embarrassing! With a gulp you elect to simply nod, but his brows furrow and he’s clearly unimpressed considering the animalistic growl that claws out of his throat.

“Hey, I’ve been locked away from you humans for so long, y’know,” he breathes, his voice dark and low. “I’m a bit behind on gestures. You have to tell me.” This time, you can tell by the almost playful tone of his voice that he’s really lying and just trying to make you admit it aloud. Dabi’s palm leaves you before moving up to the waistband of your jeans while his other hand snakes up your neck and latches onto a fistful of your hair. “C’mon, say it. Where’s all that spunk from earlier? You’re all bark and no bite, little one.”

“Y-yes, Dabi. I... I want you to fuck me.” You finally meet his eyes again, and the hunger in them from before hasn’t faded at all; it’s only deepened. What else has changed was the hunger and arousal in your own eyes.

That smirk appears again and Dabi leans into your ear. “You want me to fuck you,” he parrots, “do you? You want my demon cock to take your virginity and fill you up? You want me to fuck you against this counter until your voice gives out? You’re a slut after all, little one. Beg like one, then.”

Your thighs clench together and you gulp. This was... not how you fantasized your first time to carry out. “Demon cock” was not something you’d ever thought you would hear someone say.

But who cares? Not you.

“Yes, please. Please!” You tug at his jacket in an attempt to coax him toward you, your knuckles turning white from your grip. “Please, fuck me with your demon cock...” Your this time voice is less loud and demanding, albeit it’s more desperate and pleading. “Please.” Your voice breaks this time.

Nor was it something you thought you would ever say.

A groan rumbles from Dabi’s chest. “Good little human. Keep it up, yeah?”

You squeak as he roughly yanks your sweater over your head before working to unbutton your jeans, his lips and teeth savoring your neck all the while. Your head cranes back again, a mute gasp leaving you at the sensation of his searing tongue on your recently sweat-slicked neck as his fingers work to remove your bra before they move onto yanking your panties down. At least, you thought he yanked them down, but a quick glance to the floor revealed he ripped them off, rendering them unusable.

“I liked those!” you whine, still panting.

“Tough luck. I didn’t.” It’s not like you need to wear panties around him anyway. He’d burn every pair you owned to mere ashes if it meant getting you to waltz around your apartment with no panties. They just got in the way.

“Daabi! Why would you-

“Oh god!”

You jump and thrust against Dabi’s hand when his fingers run through the slick of your soaked cunt, your breathing ragged, while he gathers the slick abundant there and edges toward your clit. His tactic coaxes ripples of pleasure that lull a low moan out of you.

“Ha,” he scoffs in your ear, “no gods have anything to do with it, babydoll.”

Dabi’s fingers finally work their way to your clit and circle around it a few times before rubbing in a steady rhythm around it. You moan at the combination of the bliss he gives you and the pet name, and your legs instinctively open wider for him as you mewl.

“I’m really not sure you are a virgin, doll,” he starts with a chuckle, “You’re fuckin’ soaked, you know that? Like a slut begging for my dick.”

“D-Dabi!” You flinch at the sinful words he’s spitting at you, embarrassed.

The demon’s digits leave your clit and trail back through your folds, and the wet, lewd sounds that result almost surprise you more than the fact that you want to fuck a demon. You buck your hips in hopes of encouraging his fingers back to your clit, albeit his other hand distracts you with a flick to your nipple, before it rubs circles over the sensitive nub as the rest of his hand palms at your tit.

“Ah, feels so good,” you find yourself muttering.

In response his ear seems to twitch. “Speak up.” His lips are sucking and nipping at your neck, either ignoring or enjoying the layer of sweat built up on your skin as the heat coming from his body begins to overwhelm you. Not that you mind either way. He’s definitely leaving a mark here and there as he works around your neck. Not that you mind either way.

“Your fingers... ah, feel so good!” Your head cranes backward, your hands dropping to the counter against your ass for support as your legs begin to feel weak. The shockwaves of pleasure his hands send through your nerves leaves you feeling weak and mushy.

“Good. Now hold still.”

You give a confused look, eyebrows pointed upward before you feel the tip of his digit poke at your weeping hole, eliciting a loud gasp from you when his finger plunges into your pussy with no reserve. You hiss at the sudden intrusion, you walls stretching pleasurably yet painfully as he slowly moves his finger around, letting you adjust. His other hand merely plays with your breast.

Biting your lip, you lean forward and plant your sweaty, flushed forehead on his shoulder. “Hey, it kinda hurts,” you whine.

“Just relax, doll.” Dabi’s voice isn’t as crass as it was before, nor is it entirely soothing. You figure he just doesn’t have it in him to coddle you, being a demon and all that.

You whimper as Dabi ever so slowly thrusts his finger in and out, the mixture of pleasure and pain not at all what you’d expected. When his finger hits a spongy spot, you jolt and moan for him, and he takes the opportunity to take over your mouth again in a wet, hurried kiss with a groan. Dabi swallows any and all sounds that you make, and in the process you feel the hand on your tit move downward to your hip before it swings around and wraps under your thigh to lift your knee up to his hip level. The muscles of your legs tensing and the choked moan in your throat tell him the pain is starting to very slowly fade away. At the realization, he carefully dips another finger into you and you moan, higher in pitch, into his mouth before he pulls away to stare at the sight of his fingers fucking into you for only a short moment. Dabi is then quick to shove his tongue back into your salivating mouth.

The lithe digits within your wet walls pick up pace gradually, giving you time to adjust and not barreling into you. By now there is still a barely-there stretch, and all the pain has essentially faded as the assault on your nerves takes place and you near an orgasm. Your eyes lull shut and your head cranes back, your hips almost thrusting involuntarily on his fingers as his pace keeps increasing and pushing you over the edge.

“I’m- ah, I think I’m...”

Dabi hums as if requesting you repeat yourself or perhaps simply acknowledging your sputtering, but you’re too busy moaning louder and and thrusting into the palm of his hand, to do so, as the coil between your legs tightens. His fingers graze over that same spot as before and you cry out for him, for which his fingers increase their pace even more rapidly and slam into that spot over and over and over again as he groans at the lewd, wet squelching resulting.

“Shit! I’m gonna cum, Dabi, I’m gonna cum!”

“Do it. Cum for me, babydoll.” His voice is much more authoritative and huskier, and as per Dabi’s demand you cry out almost loud enough for your neighbors to hear as your orgasm slams into you like a tsunami of pleasure crashing into your nerves. Your soft, hot walls convulse around his fingers in your release as he uses them to fuck you through your first orgasm of the night, with your hips still thrusting toward him uncontrollably as you go through your high and begin to climb down, panting.

Your head feels light in the best way possible and your legs are weak, so you whine lowly as he pulls his fingers from your heat with a pleased sigh. The second your legs give out, he catches you by the ribs before grabbing your trembling hips and lifting you onto the counter, with you latching onto him and holding tight all the while, your forehead on his shoulder and arms around his neck while your legs wrap around his hips.

Dabi drags the tips of his fingers up and down your spine, sending a jolt of calming, electric waves up your spinal cord as he repeatedly kisses your hair and ear on the side accessible to him.

“Atta girl,” he mutters into your hair.

Do you... thank him? He’s giving you a compliment, after all, right? Do you nod? Do you hum? You have the energy to do all three, but what response does he expect of you?

“I didn’t... do anything,” you mutter quietly, chest rising and falling in quick succession.

“Technically. Doesn’t matter because you will, soon.” He leans into your ear like he’s so fond of doing, his lips grazing your earlobe. “We’re not done, doll.”

Your legs twitch around him unconsciously, eliciting a deep, amused chuckle from the demon.

You see pointed pearly whites bear at you before he lifts you off the countertop and plops you down in front of him. Dabi’s hand squeezes your ass cheek, said hand then spinning you around to put your back to his chest. Searing breath on the back of your ear makes it twitch. “You’re wet and all, doll, but I’m not sure you’re wet enough,” he taunts, his hands splaying out on your abdomen and gently roaming around, fingers spread wide as they adore your body.

“For what?” Dabi’s chest against your back prevents you from turning around and giving him a confused look.

“My cock. What else?” he jabs.

Your curt reply is totally cut off and forgotten when you feel a wet tongue singe the side of your neck toward the back, and you gasp shakily.

“What to do, what to do...?” you hear Dabi whisper into your now-pebbled skin, his hands ghosting down toward your thighs.

“Oh.”

Remaining silent yourself, you could feel the damn lightbulb light up in the bastard’s horned head, but you didn’t know what exactly would entail.

Before you can ask what the hell he was on about, his fingers drove between your glistening  folds and prod around, as if measuring the lewd slick settling there. They quickly pull away after a quick hum from Dabi.

“Be a good little human and bend over, yeah?”

Without a word or thought against it you comply, bending over your countertop and leaning on your elbows a little. You gulp at the thought of your leaking cunt bearing for Dabi. You weren’t sure what he could see from this position, but you were a little embarrassed, nonetheless. With a gulp you shift your weight back and forth on your feet nervously.

Hands rub and palm at your ass cheeks as thumbs rub deeply into your flesh in a symphony of soothing touch. You sigh blissfully and spread your legs for the demon without realizing, but it’s over all too quickly when he instead moves your legs back together. You crane your neck to look at him. “Wha...?”

Wasn’t he going to fuck you from behind?

Suddenly the weeping tip of his cock slips between your thighs, gliding against your dripping cunt and through your folds. There’s no piercing despite his many others, though perhaps that was why he asked you to take him to a parlor not long ago.

Dabi’s cock manages to grace your clit and your body unwillingly jolts a little, still having been sensitive from your previous orgasm. A soft gasp leaves your swollen lips and you hear Dabi growl behind you while he pulls back from your ass end only to jut forward again. Legs beginning to tire out, you unconsciously spread them, only for his hands to push them together roughly.

“Don’t fuckin’ spread ‘em,” he hissed, hips holding still. The fingers on your thighs push deep with force sure to leave bruises while you hiss quietly at the stinging pain they bring to your nerves. But that sensation is quick to fade into something warm and euphoric yet electric and sensitive, causing your head to spin even though he’s not fucking your desperate pussy. He pistons his hips into your ass, and you mewl.

“That’s your last warning, fuck!” he grunts.

You nod vigorously, content with letting him fuck your thighs so long as he keeps grazing your puffy clit like this. His pace quickens and soon enough you hear loud skin slapping against skin, his hips jutting into your ass and balls pattering against the crevice between the soft flesh of your thighs. The quick pace and silkiness of his cock against your clit is euphoric, leaving you to wonder if it would be better than this if he were inside of you. Are you drooling? Your head droops lazily as you revel in pleasure.

The wetness and heat between your legs has increased several-fold, but it’s apparently not enough for Dabi. Your poor body rocks against the counter and your eyes are clenched shut, head fixated on the sensation of his cock grinding against your cunt and between your soft, drenched thighs. You weren’t sure if it was the position or your nerves going haywire, but your legs ached with a dreadful burn.

“D-Daaabi,” you whine pitifully, “my legs... aah, hurt...!”

A hand jumps to your navel and brings you back toward him to allow room for his fingers slithering to your cunt. Before they graze over your clit, they stop. “Cum for me, then,” you hear him command, voice deep and breathy and sending a chill up your spine. “Maybe when you’re done, I’ll take you to the bed and fuck you into the mattress. You’d like that, wouldn’t ya, doll?”

“Yes, b-but,” you suck in a breath when his hand envelops your tit, “‘maybe?’” You parrot the word desperately, your head going blank as you near orgasm.

“Mhm.” You can hear the smirk in it, and the sound of the hum rumbling in his chest is oddly euphoric for you to hear.

You hated having him behind you like this. All you wanted in the moment was to latch onto him and relish in his heat no matter how intense it would be for a mortal like you. You wanted to touch him, to be able to see him, and he was depriving you of it all - very likely on purpose.

Your moans and squeals get higher in pitch and Dabi evidently picks up on your cues, thrusting against your cunt faster and faster until your entire body tenses.

You cry out his name ever so quietly, yet before you can climax he pulls away and leaves you panting and weeping, a whine escaping your throat. “But you told me...!”

“Changed my mind.”

“You’re a jerk!” you half-gripe and half-whine, standing up to glare at him. “I was so... so close, you know! You better make it up to me!” You huff and puff from the intensity of almost cumming.

“You’re awful feisty when I’m not touching you,” he remarks cockily.

You’re going to regret saying what you said. At least, that’s what the look in his eyes tells you when he spins you around. It’s dark and already you shrink in front of him. The next thing you know, Dabi’s pushing you against the counter and mumbling something into you ear, that something being an incantation that sends a trickle of electricity though every nerve of your body. Suddenly you’re cumming hard as heavy waves of pleasure wrack your cunt clenching around nothing rapidly as whatever the demon used on you pushes you through your orgasm, your toes curling and lips shrieking, head falling back so fast it almost slammed into the cabinet if he hadn’t caught it. You don’t register that you had wrapped your arms around his waist until his hands grasp them as if holding you there.

“How’s that for makin’ it up to you, eh?”

With his voice pulling a moan out of you, your poor brain goes foggy and full and it spins within your skull as you pant away, your body feeling heavy. Dabi grabs hold of you and lifts you onto the countertop when it seems like your legs are going to give out. “Hey,” he mutters into your sweaty neck, “don’t tire out on me. I wanna fill that pussy up with my cum ‘til it’s dripping out.”

You feel heat rush from your heaving chest up your neck to your cheeks. “Stop... that! You pervert.”

Dabi chuckles at you. You weren’t prudish, you were inexperienced. “What? Stop what, hm?”

“Talking like... that.”

He only hums, though, and he’s not to comply with your request. “Ya know, if you weren’t a virgin, I’d take your ass, too. Or put you on your knees and shove my cock down your throat until you’re chokin’ on it. Fuck, you’d sound like an angel.” Dabi chuckles at his ironic comparison, seemingly proud of himself for it.

You shrink in front of him and shiver, the room feeling so cold. You glance at your bedroom door and he notices promptly.

“I’ll carry you, for a price.”

Your eyes flicker back to him and the simper he flashes you would’ve had you weak in the knees had you been standing.

“Like what, my soul?” It’s a slightly genuine, slightly snarky question.

“Your mouth.” Dabi waves a hand at your widened eyes. “Not tonight. Maybe next time. You won’t know up from down and I don’t feel like playing teacher more than I already am.”

The demon doesn’t wait for your snarky remark before he picks you up and lugs you to your bed. You let out a noise when he literally drops you onto the mattress, your form bouncing atop it before he pins you to the bed roughly, so quickly you get dizzy. He dips his hips between your legs and spreads them wide while his mouth delves into the crook of your sweat-coated neck to let him begin suckling and leaving stinging marks with sweet, little kisses peppered in between.

It seems he’s suddenly gone soft on you, but it won’t last, even if you don’t know it.

Your back arches against him, ready to finally feel his torrid body against yours so that you can relish in his warmth despite the fact that your body was soaked in sweat; you wanted so much more, you needed it. Your next moan is dealt without a care who can hear, and thereafter with you wrap your arms around his neck tightly. Dabi grabs your hips and squeezes the plump flesh before his hands roam down your thighs to your knees as he hikes your legs around his hips, with you far too eager not to comply.

“Dabi,” you breathe, and he hums with one of his hands still on your hip as the other supports his weight by your shoulder. “Kiss me. Please.” Your voice is desperate and needy, and you’re starting to think this is more than lust pushing you on.

Had he used another demonic spell on you?

When Dabi complies, his hips grind against you to allow his hardened cock to nudge the folds of your glistening pussy.

This time around, with his tongue prodding in your mouth at a slower, more passionate pace, you catch on and realize he has a tongue piercing. Your walls clench at the thought of what it would feel like licking stripes up and down your soaked cunt, wondering whether it would be cool to the touch or searing hot due to his body temperature.

Searing hot would be the answer, though you don’t know that as of now.

The demon grinds against you as he devours your mouth with his own, his weeping cock sliding through your your wet folds. On the other hand you’re careful not to cut your tongue on his teeth again, albeit he wouldn’t complain if you did; if anything he’d encourage it. Your hands splay on his hot back, and you wonder that if leaving them on his searing skin for too long will burn you. If it gave you the opportunity to roam your fingers over his muscles and caress the staples, goddamn would it be worth the burns. With a sigh into his mouth your hands move from his back to grab onto those horns you’d thought about, your grip gentle yet exploring as you try to focus on feeling the rough texture of them.

Dabi pulls away from you to pepper open-mouthed kisses among your jawline, growling all the while. “What’re you doing?” he brusquely asks between the wet gestures, and you croon. His voice was so rough and gravelly while the gestures were soft and... sweet. You almost dare to say it was heavenly.

“Just feelin’ ‘em, babydoll.”

You throw his pet name back at him purposefully, and the mockery elicits a dark chuckle from him. Ever so slowly, you were beginning to learn how to be more brazen. You were getting comfortable with him on this intimate level. You’d already been comfortable in some way with him living forcibly in your apartment for over a month, but not on this level, not like this.

The stapled hand on your leg disappears before it reappears in your hair and gives a pull - not a yank - to tilt your head back and further expose your neck. You expect him to ravage it with his mouth like earlier, but he stopped to admire his apparent handiwork. You can’t see the marks he’s left, albeit he’s apparently satisfied as he smirks.

“What’re you doing?” you mimic him playfully.

“Thinkin’ about how I want you, of course.” He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

In response, you huff at him.

“Let’s see,” he begins, moving closer to you, his breath fanning the lower half of your face as his eyes bore into your soul, “chest up against the wall, or on your hands and knees... hell, maybe just your knees...” He moves down so that his breath reaches just under your jaw, his eyes still staring intensely up at you while his hand slithers to your tit, rolling the hardened bud under his finger and you mewl. “...could always put you in a mating press and fuck you like a bitch in heat... I might even let you get on top, if you’re a good girl. Decisions, decisions, eh?”

“What,” you huff, “you mean, with all that whoring and harassing you did, you never thought this through?” You mirror his smirk with your own quirked brow while you rub the horns on his head, thoroughly enjoying their soft yet rippled texture.

“Oho, that’s the problem, doll. I’ve thought about it too much.” Dabi’s teeth put on a show for you to see from his widening smirk. Next thing you know, his fingers are pinching and tugging your nipple roughly for the first time and you keen under him from the shock before his wet mouth matches onto your other tit, tongue lulling over the bud. You mewl and flick your head back, chest heaving in your panting as you feel him suction onto your plump skin and suck away with a sopping, hot mouth, his low sigh into your skin blissful.

Your hands drop to his shoulders as a result of the distraction his mouth brings. Demonic saliva coats your tit and glistens in what little silvery moonlight filters through your blinds, all while you feel the pull of your leg over his right shoulder and prodding at your weeping heat with the tip of his cock.

“Ya know what?” he murmurs into your skin, “I wanna see these lovely tits of yours bounce.” With his other hand he guides the tip in and gives a moan at how warm and slick the entrance of your cunt is around him. And tight as hell, too. Of all the summons he could’ve answered, he answered the one that, unbeknownst to Dabi, lead to you, just on a whim. And fuck, if it wasn’t worth it.

You whine and writhe underneath him, needy as can be, as your entrance clenches around the head of his cock.

“Use your words, babydoll.”

You groan at him. “Just please hurry up and fuck me!”

“Your wish is my command...” Dabi’s voice is full of tease and mockery, which makes you want to bite his tongue.

Without any warning he sheaths his cock all the way into you as a groan escapes his throat, and you jolt at the sensation of suddenly being so goddamned full, your lustful gasp resonating off the walls of your bedroom. That one hard pump of his hips sends a wave up pleasure through your nervous system and the stretch of your tight walls leaves you wanting more. He’s much longer and thicker than his fingers, and you can’t help your cunt clenching around him like it does. The subconscious movement has Dabi groaning and panting out as you clench on his cock, and he still can’t help but relish in how fucking worth the wait you are.

That stretch of your cunt is back again, sweet and sinful as before. His cock brushes against all the right places, filling you up perfectly and having you drool for more.

Dabi holds still at least, though you can tell it won’t be for long.

“So goddamned tight,” he spits through his teeth against your neck, fighting the demanding of every cell in his body to fuck you like a rabid animal. Dabi’s hot breath fans over your neck, his teeth clenching as a result of your tightness around him.

His hips slowly start pushing and pulling to gently thrust his throbbing cock in and out of you, slowly letting you adjust before he can pick a normal pace.

...is what you thought he would do.

But nay, he begins with slow and agonizingly yet blissfully hard thrusts into your wet core, his grunts being drowned out by your wails and mewls as he slams into your sopping cunt. The lewd sounds of wet skin slapping slowly against skin and hot squelching mixes into it all, creating a melody of sin only you and Dabi share, that only the two of you can hear.

You were definitely going to hell, by now. But hey, good dick seemed worth the eternal damnation. Right?

With one particularly hard thrust, Dabi bites into the crook between your neck and shoulder, unexpectedly not breaking the skin, eliciting a cry from your parched throat and your eyes shut tight. The teeth latching onto your skin feel less sharp and more human, as he’s morphed them not to tear into your flesh and draw blood. He’d never hear the end of it for getting blood on your sheets, he knew that. Besides, if he wasn’t careful it would kill you.

He doesn’t want that happening again. Ugh. That was a godsforsaken mess - literally.

With every pounce of his hips, your tits bounce on your chest like he set out to do and he was sure to take in the sight of it all very well, having waited over a month for it. The smarting pang you felt earlier when his fingers fucked you is completely gone by now, leaving you to writhe and thrust your own hips from the overwhelming fucking of your senses.

“Dabi, Dabi!” you sob, your thoughts blending together until nothing but the demon inside of you remains in your consciousness. Your nails dig into the skin of his shoulders, drawing a thick, black liquid in the deep crescents, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Words, babydoll,” he breathes out, emphasizing the first word with a thrust. “C’mon, you know better.” He groans above you.

A yelp and another, higher in pitch slap of skin resonates within the room amidst the wet, sloppy ones and his grunts, but it doesn’t register that he’s slapped the underside of the thigh perched on his shoulder until you feel the pulsating sting that scatters through your leg. The yelp was apparently yours.

“Faster!” Your voice is devoured by a whiny tone and squeals that fight out of you, but it’s drowned out by the rhythm of his hips against yours.

Another slap hits your senses, and you cry out, tears flooding your eyelids. All you need is a little push.

“So fuckin’ demanding... Where are your manners, little mouse?” His lips are on your ear again, almost as if threateningly. “I’d be a little more... ngh...  polite if I were you.” The covers bunch and roll under your body when it’s slid back against them from the hardest thrust he’s graced you with yet, the process bringing a shriek out of you and shock as a result of his hitting that special spot after angling his hips just right and causing your poor head to spin. With Dabi then yanking you back to where you were with the hand on your thigh above the reddening cloud of flesh, you croon underneath him as he stops fucking your dripping wet heat altogether. You’re left to stare into his fiery blue eyes directly while hot breaths flood out of you in rapid succession. His nose almost touched yours, and the look in his eyes tells you he’s dead serious.

“Hate to break it to ya, but you’re at my mercy, doll. If I don’t want you to cum, you won’t.”

“Nonono, I’m sorry! Please! Please! I’m sorry!”

A cross between a hum and growl leaves his throat, and you shrink underneath him.

“‘Please,’ what?”

“Go faster, please!”

Dabi’s teeth are on your neck again when he picks up his thrusting into you, increasing in speed and fucking your sopping pussy like you had requested. With his hands on your hips, the demon mutters praises and moans into your neck and you sputter incoherent gibberish when you’re not gasping for air and squealing and bawling out from his almost inhuman, blissful pace. The leg wrapped around his waist clenches as hard as you’re physically able as he slams into you, and while your senses are being ravaged and brutalized, you hear faintly those wet squelching noises and the sounds of metal and wood creaking. You weren’t sure if the thrumming in your eardrums was your heartbeat or your headboard hitting the wall, but the thought of the latter rolled your eyes into the back of your head. Dabi angles his hips just right and smacks his cock into that oh-so-special spot within your soft cunt, and the jolt of pleasure and utter bliss that results brings you back to reality momentarily - yet still somehow throwing you out of your mind.

“Right there! Dabi! Oh, fuck!” You sob with a slur, your hands grasping and clawing at his back desperately. Incoherent garbling follows thereafter, and Dabi doesn’t even try to decipher it even if it is silk against his ears.

The fingers gripping onto your hips are so tightly embedded into your skin, Dabi’s sure they will leave round little bruises in their wake and he relishes in the idea, but the sting they bring you feels so damned good, you welcome it, too. The tension that builds within your cunt keeps building and building, your hot walls clenching around Dabi as you near carnal release. You’re close, so fucking close to the height of true bliss, your moans getting higher and higher in pitch as your back lifts off the mattress without you willing it. You feel that familiar tingle before-

It stops.

You sob at the utter emptiness and lack of release, your head spinning.

The ancient bastard denied you of your orgasm.

Chest heaving up and down in your panting, your wordless whine and protest at the emptiness you can feel is seemingly ignored by Dabi. The lack of warmth at your pulsating core is almost... cold. So cold.

“Wh-why...?” you whine.

The demon lets out a breathy groan. You can feel him dip his lips to your collarbone and smirk. “Just ‘cause.”

Quickly the demon sits back on his haunches and your arms droop off his shoulders. Dabi blinks at you with his hand holding your ankle to his shoulder, all the while staring you down with an intensity that has you feeling small, like an ant before an elephant. You’re so vulnerable and naked under his unwavering gaze, it’s nearly frightening. There’s something in his eyes you haven’t seen before. It’s soft but it’s predatory. He drinks in the sight of you leisurely.

You know damn good and well blood is rushing to your face, your hot breaths leaving you in weak puffs.

“Aren’t you precious?” you hear him remark with a toothy smirk. “Just for me. Right?”

You nod.

Demonically slitted eyes narrow at you darkly. “Say it, then,” he demands.

“Just...” you pant, “for you.”

Dabi’s hand pulls your ankle off him and puts your foot flat against the bedding next to his knee as he looks down at you. The moonlight striking the vibrant color of Dabi’s eyes is breathtaking, if your breath could be knocked out of your lungs further. It almost forced you to liken the sight with tinted ice, with icy waters off Iceland or perhaps glacier-dwelling seas of the Antarctic. And yet, you knew better.

The sight before Dabi was more than he’d expected, albeit just as sinful. Seeing you splashed out in bed, sweating and panting and dripping in your own essence just for him drove him wild. You were so adamant against fucking him, about retaining your innocence and saving it for the “right” person, in the beginning. And yet now, you let him do as he pleases and he didn’t doubt it would be the first time. He knew better.

“Get on your hands and knees, love.”

That was a first. “Love?” You like it more than the several others. It was smoky and gravelly and breathy all once.

Without your knowing your eyes soften and you grin the tiniest grin at the demon, knowing he won’t return the favor and be as gentle and sweet with you. He’s quick to quirk a brow at you, but you turn on your side to maneuver your body around and comply with Dabi’s command. Your breath has evened out by now, as you prop yourself on your elbows with your ass pointing out to Dabi, weeping cunt ready to be filled. It was embarrassing being on display like this again. You glance back at him with curious eyes, only to be met with silence and what felt like a dark presence. He’d gone cold on you.

You feel a hot hand on the nape of your neck and swear on whatever god you used to believe that your skin sizzled for a bit, while another lands on your left hip as his cock presses up against your folds and slithers through between your legs a couple times, gathering the slick of your essence - as if it needed to! - before he delves into your pussy once again. You croon in front of him, and the moan that comes out of Dabi has you clenching around his cock for the countless time. He mutters something untranslatable to you and pushes down on your nape, easing you face-first into the mattress. Your bedding was so soft and warm from your own body heat. Maybe it was leakage from the demon’s body temperature, you weren’t sure. Maybe it was a mix of both, intermingling like perfectly-cut pieces of a puzzle.

With a sharp moan, Dabi bottoms out in you, your mewls being swallowed by the bedding pressing against your cheek. You sigh into plush warmth, but the soft and gooeyness you feel is quickly torn away by a harsh snap of Dabi’s hips. Your gasp is cut through by a squeak from your throat, only urging him further as you already feel that coil tightening and readying to snap. You feel him shift a little against you, and you try to glance at him as much as you can before he begins thrusting into you again. That hard but slow pace makes its appearance for a short while, and hot damn is it heavenly. You moan and whine completely unabashedly. The walls of your apartment were thin and cheap, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

It was just an effect he had on you.

So what if your neighbors knew your were getting railed by a demonic being from ages past?

He certainly wanted them to know.

Dabi’s pace picks up again and you already feel the ripples of pleasure soaring through your body from your clenching cunt, your grip on the fabric underneath you tightening as you fight back the urge to bite into it. Even the lewd slaps of his hips against your ass are louder and quicker, and fuck aren’t they wetter. Dabi himself seems proud of this.

Your breathing quickens and your lungs almost burn like the hand on the back of your neck, your keening and sobbing getting higher in pitch and filled with rushed air. His thrusts only seem to get deeper and harder, if it were possible, and your eyes close shut tightly as your body trembles. Dabi adjusts his hips and continuously hits that oh-so-sweet spot that makes your head cloud over totally, his head falling back at the way your pussy hugs him tight.

“Dabi!” you sob. “Don’t stop, please!” Your wording is heavily slurred and slightly hushed from the impact of his fucking your nerves and your cheek being pushed into the bed, but you manage, nonetheless. You can’t fight back the drool that droops out the corner of your mouth.

The demon chuckles. Dabi could hear you say his name like that for a thousand years straight and it wouldn’t be enough. “S’pose you’ve been a good girl, babydoll. Go on, I’ll let you cum.”

The hand on your neck moves to your shoulder and soon enough, your chest and face are removed from the sheets, albeit you’re still on all fours as he fucks into you. Thereafter you feel the piping heat of his chest against your back, a crude reminder of the seven layers of arson Dabi’s capable. His hand holds you still while he continues to wrack your body with thrusts into your wet heat. You feel his fingers rub and circle your clit after a torrid hand snakes around your ribs and down your navel, and the pace of Dabi’s fingers is almost in beautiful tandem with his fucking as he hits that special spot over and over and over again. You can feel your essence flowing down the insides of your thighs like you thought wasn’t even possible, pussy dripping onto your bedding.

Ah, fuck.

With a lustful shriek, your spongy walls convulse around his cock as he fucks you through your orgasm, your vision going white as your eyes roll into the back of your head and your body rocks back and forth, legs twitching and torso shuddering. It takes almost everything Dabi has not to cum then and there, his hiss and loud growl being evidence of that. You just feel so good, why wouldn’t he want to cum now? But no, that would be a treat for you later.

Your clutch on the bedding underneath is as tight as you’re fully capable, and your knuckles turn white while you revel in your own personal bliss, courtesy of whatever the hell Dabi is. The intensity of it all has your head spinning and body pulsating. Poor body beginning to come down from the fierce high, you wondered if Dabi would stop and let you bliss out - but nay; he continues to fuck you like an animal and abuse your clit while you cry it all out. You were drenched in sweat, your cheeks flooded with tears you didn’t know were there until now.

“Too much, too much,” you squeak quietly, so quiet you’re not even sure he could hear you. But maybe it was incoherent. Maybe you were babbling and drooling like a fucked out hole at this point. Was it getting overwhelming? Yes. Did it feel ungodly good? Fuck yes.

“You’re so fuckin’... wet, though,” he pants, before slowing down slightly. “I think you’re playing innocent. You like this, ah, don’t you?” Dabi groans as you continue to flutter, sensitively, around him. “You want me to fuck you stupid, to fuck you until you can’t take it anymore, right?”

Dabi chuckles at your lack of response and continues to ram into your soaking heat with your cries and squeaks only urging him further. An attempt to glance at Dabi is mostly thwarted by the pace he’s taken on, or maybe it’s because everything’s spinning - or is it the tears flooding from your eyelids - you manage to meet his icy, slitted eyes once, which prompts him to poke kisses at your nape and behind your ear. You feel that familiar warmth in your entire pelvis, you cunt clenching down on his cock as the waves of pleasure intensify.

“Dabi, I- nnn, it’s too mu-much,” you whine. “Please.”

��Nah, you’re okay, babydoll,” he drawls cockily, voice gravelly and breathy enough to make you cum on command. “I think you’ve got a few more for me, don’t you? C’mon.” He makes a point to hit your g-spot harder than before after he’s done talking, and goddamn does it take the air out of your lungs. You choke on your own spit when you feel that piping hot hand patted against your asscheek repeatedly.

Your shriek and wet slopping fills the room as you cum yet again, albeit this time the pressure on your nerves feels different - smoother, warmer - and the tingle in your belly is intense as your scream feels like it claws at your throat until it bleeds. Your thighs are drenched in your juices, cunt twitching and clenching in the aftermath of your mind-splitting pleasure. You mumble and whimper as he finally slows down and gives you a sliver of mercy, both of his hands now holding you up by your hips when your torso slowly droops down like it was before. Dabi chuckles behind you quietly as he comes to a halt.

“You good, doll?”

He’s definitely not sincere.

Your eyes squeeze shut and you heave and pant, the fabric in your fingers wrinkling in their grasp.

“Oi, you can’t quit on me now,” he demands. “I haven’t cum yet and I gotta make you squirt again.”

Trying to get a whole, solid word out was a struggle as a result of your heavy breathing and the overstimulation. Your head was fuzzy and the room was spinning like a damn typhoon, and for a split moment you thought you’d fallen unconscious. What spills out is garbled nonsense.

The demon hums that inquisitive hum again, urging you to speak.

You lift your cheek off the bed slightly, as you’re able. “Will...”

You’re not sure why, but the thought of Dabi skipping off after taking your virginity so unceremoniously rang into your thoughts, giving you a sense of loneliness and anxiety. Why, though? Why now?

“Huh?” He leans in so close, his horn bobs off the side of your head when he arches over you to put an ear to your lips. “Try again, love. Go on.” He sounds quite intrigued, probably the most you’ve heard him.

“Will you... hah, leave... me?”

The grin against your neck is dark.

“Whaddya mean, little mouse?”

His voice was downright excited. You were worth the wait. How long had it been since he’d had a human so obedient, so innocent yet so easily corrupted? You were his, now - whether you liked it or not was irrelevant. But he knew you would. Dabi had grown on you far more than you’d ever admit, he knew that for a fact. You were clearly enjoying yourself now, anyway. And it didn’t take magic to do all of this, save for one here and there to coax you to enjoy yourself and to bring out subconscious feelings. Like right now. You felt these things, he just amplified them to an unbearable extent. Whoops. You poor thing.

“Don’t go.”

Eyes half-lidded and droopy, you turn your head to look back at the demon, only to be met with sharp teeth shown off in a naughty grin. You blink once and you could’ve sworn you saw an image of a black, smoky aura surrounding him.

“If you can handle me, dear.”

You nod against the bed slowly before trying to push your ass against him with what little stability you have. Even if his cock was still buried in you, without any movement you felt empty and... alone.

“I thought it was too much?” he quips, hand rubbing at your reddened ass cheek in a way you have to describe as soothing. It felt so silky and mellow. Yet you knew he was far from that. “Well? I thought you were bitchin’ out on me like the virgin you are.”

“In... insi... inside,” you sputter shyly, mental clarity not quite returning, albeit you manage enough to think of that at least. You want him to cum inside, to know what it feels like to be stuffed full of his cum, to feel his cock twitching inside after his release. “C-um.”

You never would’ve thought about that before you met him. Why would you feel this way?

“Aw, what is it?” The hum that results from his scarred throat is dark. “You want me to cum inside right now? I’m not sure you’ve earned that yet.” His voice is bastardly and maybe even a little teasing, and he sighs almost happily at your squirming. “Asking me to cum inside like that the first time you get fucked - such a whore. Have I fucked you stupid already, doll? Shame, I thought you’d hold out better than that.” Dabi clicked his tongue and shook his head, though you can’t see. “Broken so early. Guess there’s no point in me stickin’ around after all, huh?”

A noise sounds from the back of your throat in protest and nearly unbeknownst to you, drool slithers out the corner of your mouth. Dabi seems to ignore your noises as his hands adjust your hips, giving you enough friction to elicit a whine from your lips. You can’t register this at the moment, but Dabi was a victim to his own whims and could be a mix of soft and downright mean in the bedroom, and there’s no telling which will arise. Sometimes he’ll want skin against skin, tongue lashing against yours, fiery pleasure; sometimes he wants to insult you and lash his hand across your ass cheek, leaving bruises or drawing blood wherever he can.

“I was gonna make you convince me,” he breathes, slowly thrusting. “But considering you’re still conscious, I think that’s enough.” Dabi chuckles behind you. Well, you were only conscious as per his meddling. He was the one keeping your consciousness pulled to the surface, preventing you from letting go of reality and passing out. “You’re most welcome to cry and beg, though, babydoll.”

Hell, that list was half-checked off. Tears stained your cheeks and blurred your vision already, and the more he fucked into you, the more they fluttered out. Your lungs burned at this point, a searing heat cutting through your chest. Anything you try to say comes out incoherently, a sputtered and garbled mess, when it’s not a pitiful sob.

You push your hips back against him in an attempt to fuck yourself on his cock while Dabi fucks your puffy cunt, drawing a condescending chuckle from him. The jolt of overstimulation beckoned you to crawl away and relieve yourself of him, but the need to have him thrusting and cumming inside you overcame it. His release and what it would feel like to have his cum mixing with your juices and dripping out of you was all you could think about, as if entranced in a spell that bound your consciousness to that one thing. The rest of your thoughts were jumbled and incoherent even to you, the drool trickling out your mouth and the rolling of your eyes into the back of your head representative of that.

As Dabi watched your pussy envelop him, he couldn’t help but envision his name carved into your asscheeks with a sharpened claw of his. Ah, the squeals and squeaks that crawl out of you would be divine in the most sinful way possible, and the threads of blood that would trickle down your skin would taste head-spinningly beautiful. Maybe next time. Dabi’s jaw clenched at the throb of his cock within your sputtering, velvety walls, the tightness in his abdomen building. Just one more...

“Fuck, little one...!”

As the demon drags sharp claws up your thigh and asscheek, it leaves red ribbons in its wake and the squeeze of your cunt and pitiful squeal tells him well that you’re enjoying it far more than you ever thought you would.

“Such a good fucking human... good fuckin’ hole,” he grunts, voice strained. His hand plants on the middle of your back and pushes hard, bowing your poor back as his other hand keeps your hips up, his cock ramming into you at a faster pace. Dabi lets out a loud groan when he sees the blissed out, tear-stained, drool-covered face of yours before his thrusting loses rhythm and he suddenly feels your pussy flutter around him hard in orgasm again, soaking him in your slick again. Finally he allows himself to find the release you’d internally begged for, fucking into you at a less than rhythmic pace as his own mind begins to become overwhelmed with pleasure.

“Ah, shit. Fuck, fuck, motherfucking-!”

Dabi soon finds his teeth embedded into your flesh and gripping it hard enough to leave a bruise or even cut into the skin as his hips move entirely on their own against you. With a strained moan he cums, thick, warm ropes of cum painting your fluttering, sensitive, and overstimulated walls as you literally cry and sob underneath him, his hips still involuntarily thrusting into you as your cunt milks him for all he’s worth.

“Fucking hell,” he bites out, body relaxing against yours as he comes down from the high, yet he doesn’t pull out. “I missed this.” His voice is breathy and littered with pants against your neck. Dabi leaves a few wet kisses to it before leaning back and slowly pulling out with a groan, leaving you empty and dripping before him. He watches as his cum begins to trickle out but is quick to gather it with his fingers and push it roughly back into your pulsating cunt.

“Atta fuckin’ girl.”

Your poor head spins and you don’t know up from down, so Dabi ushers you to lay down and before he knows it, you’re passed out asleep. Eh, he’ll consider aftercare next time maybe. With a yawn that’s more out of sudden boredom than it is exhaustion, Dabi lays down next to you and props his head up with his hand, leaning against his elbow as he watches you sleep peacefully, a complete contrast to a few mere minutes ago. With a smirk he wipes the tears off your cheeks. Those cheeks...

“I oughta answer sacrifices more often.”

[redstaratmorning]

Headcanons and Musings of Pirate-y And Plunderous Proportions: Astarion Says What

Synopsis: Random musings and ramblings regarding and spawning from the differences between how Astarion says just one word, depending on your choices—“What?” This got very long and touches not only on Astarion’s difference in presentation in aforementioned moment, but also some discussion-thoughts to chuck onto the dashboard regarding some other elements of Astarion’s content thus far in Early Access, and some thoughts to add onto others’ speculations and wonderings (I did not save sources so pardon the lack of proper citation, oops. We’re going informal here anyway.) Spoilers for Chapter 1 BG3 scenes, plot, etc, under the cut in case someone hasn’t filtered out the tags. Trigger warning/content warning: some discussion of heavy topics is mentioned and explored, including starvation, abuse/torture, and trauma. Other topics of note for summarization include speculation on Astarion’s largely unknown as-of-early-access background and a touch of his possible pre-vampire morality leanings, possible mental state/trauma reaction in a couple of scenes, and vague speculation on Larian’s gameplan for Astarion’s arc ending. Gather thy party and venture forward, for here be dragons and lots o’ text, matey! [/stereotypical pirate accent]

“What?” Just that one word, between the goblin party and the tiefling party. If Larian keeps the body language and tone presentation more or less where it’s at now in Early Access, they are worlds apart and delightfully up for interpretation of just what’s going on in our favorite vampire spawn’s head. This won’t be an in-depth post about all the tonal and body language differences, just picking out a few due to personal constraints (ie too broke to buy this game currently.) Edit: And also a lot of other thoughts and ramblings tacked on, lol. On the one hand we have him at the goblin party, where he seems much more superficially comfortable there, knows what’s going on and knows what to expect—it feels like he’s done this kind of scene a hundred times before. The comfort of familiarity. Did Cazador throw “parties”, much like how he “invited” Astarion to dine with him? I wouldn’t be surprised if he mingled at regular dinner parties either before his turning, or perhaps after when he’s ordered to hunt for Cazador’s evening repast. I doubt the goblin party has anything as potentially horrific as what Cazador would have lined up on the nightly basis, which is why Astarion isn’t aggro’d: he’s in a position of power at this party after all, not a powerless one. A conquering hero, as he describes the MC. A Precarious position, as it turns out.

Circling back to that one word though, the way he says “what” in that scene after he propositions the MC and the MC picks the “Maybe. If you say please” line feels like Astarion’s response could be interpreted as pretty abrupt. On guard, perhaps, squaring up, offended, even perhaps lowkey challenging/hostile. Expressing social displeasure and possibly staring down the MC mayhaps? Could be, especially if Astarion’s body language remains as it is rigged now in-scene with that step forward, his shoulders shifting, the lack of a smile, that assessing glare, all combined with that flat tone of voice. The animation could just be temporary and subject to change, but if it does end up as more or less the final version of that moment’s depiction, it’s pretty interesting as a shift. I’d read it as potentially “not actually truly comfortable in this situation, just familiar and numb to it all”, especially when combined with some of his other earlier potential lines at the goblin party, such as the following: Astarion: So, what are we drinking to? Other than a pile of corpses. MC: That’s not funny. Astarion: Oh don’t be so sour - It’s a party. You did what you had to. Don’t be ashamed that you did it well. MC: I wish things had turned out differently. Astarion: And I wish I was drinking out of the skulls of everyone who’s ever wronged me. Life is tough. Although that’s not to say we can’t have a little fun. This supports the whole “has been through his personal hell and has adapted to survive it albeit not unscathed” story Larian seems to be going for with him quite nicely in the little tells and details. A sort of “take what joy you can even amidst the dark situation surrounding us” trauma-induced adaptation, coupled together with actual enjoyment on his part for killing. It’d be easy to say Astarion is moreso in his element at the goblin party, and to a degree he is—it’s one he is well practiced with in his current mindset. Compare now how he acts at the tiefling party—we can all agree he’s not having a good time, our friendly neighborhood vampire sulking in particular over the fact that “there’s a worm in [his] brain, [he’s] surrounded by idiots, and all [he] has to drink is wine that tastes like vinegar.” But the delightful thing is he’s complaining so vividly about it. The wine likely is worse at the tiefling party, seeing as they’re refugees, and the goblins had previously captured a duke whom they likely stole loot from and under orders from Minthara et al stored said goods elsewhere for a later date (likely some of said goods were consumed at the party if it happened. Edit: Shadowheart’s drunk dialogue at the goblin party mentions the goblin’s wine there being good, poor dear. Fascinating hints at her story and character in that scene though.) This is assuming Astarion is drinking wine at the goblin party, of course. He may very well be drinking something red and full-bodied there, just not made from grapes. But even in his complaints and presentation, he seems arguably more relaxed and less on guard compared to his demeanor at the goblin party. Let’s be honest, he doesn’t view goblins as equals or stimulating company judging by his various voice lines expressing his disdain, distrust and overall low opinion of them as vermin among other things. The fact that he’s willing to call the tiefling refugees idiots while in earshot of them? Definitely doesn’t respect them as a group—though he has a less negatively opined line regarding them earlier on if the caged goblin (Sazza) is killed,—which is not surprising given that MC and company at the time of the party just saved them from certain death. Astarion’s reaction however also reads as potentially at ease enough to say what he’s thinking. He’s not going to get murdered for saying so, and there aren’t any punishing power games at play with the refugees and do-gooders he’s found himself surrounded by. There aren’t any hedonistic shenanigans going on and the drinks are terrible, so it’s not an entertaining party for him, but one could make an argument that Astarion might actually be feeling more secure or at least less threatened-as-is/was-his-accepted-ongoing-norm there. Which might mean he’s feeling quite out of place, or even just not...entirely engaged with what’s going on around him and even within him as far as emotional states go. Would he casually pull the same stunt at the goblin party? If you’re a bastard to him, yes, but that’s not in the same emotional vein as his dialogue during the tiefling party at all. Loyalty from the goblins is fickle, the goblins worship the Absolute and those that are chosen by the Absolute—so long as said Chosen remain powerful enough to subjugate them and is in favor. Astarion knows this kind of power structure well: ruling by fear and power. With the tieflings? It’s not superiors-and-subordinates, it’s just...people. People celebrating surviving an event that could’ve very well and most likely would’ve ended in their deaths. Will he get to celebrate like that one day? That could very well be a painful and bleak thing to consider, and not something he wants to contemplate as of yet, based on his dialogue lines that demonstrate his fear of Cazador. How’s he supposed to get lost in the fun and revelry if the wine doesn’t even taste good to him? I don’t know wines, but I’m guessing from what little I do know and what I’ve read of flavor descriptors for wines hyped as good, it might actually be bad wine based on the adjective “sharp” when mixed with the rest of the description if the MC takes a sip. Sharp seems to suggest too many tannins, or maybe improper storage so the wine actually did turn to taste a bit more like vinegar, or maybe not enough sugar in the grapes used, perhaps? To be fair, I do believe there’s a non-conversation line somewhere of Astarion’s regarding solid food tasting terrible to him, but I can’t verify that so a pinch of salt there. Still, if his taste buds are aligned with regular living mortal ones for wine at least, RIP Astarion, he’s stuck with a terrible drink for the foreseeable night. Unless, of course, you know. ;D Compared to the tieflings, the goblins as a whole? As a group they’re a scraped together army of pillagers hungry for destruction and spoils. They don’t have ANY loyalty to you—in addition to being willing to betray you via murder immediately despite working with them when Sazza first brings you back to meet Minthara, there’s also when Minthara potentially opts to try to kill you post-goblin-party. If you persuade her not to, Minthara does mention “do not return to the goblin camp, as far as they were concerned you were destined to die tonight.” This is not a group to get chummy with, obviously. Doesn’t say good things about the Absolute’s followers in general, either, or the Absolute depending on if Minthara’s being honest about the Absolute intending that the MC dies after razing the grove. Minthara could just be lying to serve her own ends and is out to destroy any rivals for the Absolute’s favor, after all, I can’t verify that from dialogue exploration at present. So it’s not surprising that this is not a group Astarion is going to let his guard down around I’m sure, or around an MC that sided with the goblins, because fortunes can shift like the wind in a scene like that, and I think his utter lack of surprise at Minthara trying to kill you all (whether or not the MC had a romp with her) is potentially spawned because he recognizes this fact. He’s been here before, in another time, another place, with different faces, but he’s seen this play before. And the MC is just another face for the same old role of a player in this rat race for power when they side with the goblins, aren’t they? The difference this time though is: will they succeed and make it to the top? Is Astarion betting on the winning horse, or not? Far less reason and far more motivation to not be emotionally invested in anyone or anything around him because it’s survival of the fittest, and the most ruthless will be the ones who win—the MC just reinforced that perspective for Astarion, in slaughtering the tieflings. But Astarion isn’t fully corrupted yet, despite however much Cazador has twisted and tormented him so. Isn’t it fascinating, that the MC, one of the first people Astarion can actually interact with relatively freely without Cazador’s puppeteering influence hanging over him quite so acutely, is someone who might very well and very likely will have a huge impact on how Astarion develops and sees the world? For better or for worse, the MC will shape all the companions’ futures and perspectives it seems, depending on their choices. On a meta note, isn’t that thrillingly fascinating and engaging work by Larian Studios? Bravo, honestly. Continuing, for Astarion this could very well just feel like a better but complimentary and thematically continuous segment of the nightmare that is his existence under Cazador as it goes on: he’s a vampire now, and the world is only ever a power struggle between the strong and the weak, and he knows better than to ever be weak again. Kindness and virtue belonged to Before. Before he died, before he turned, before he was taken. Those are things in stories and fairy tales now, that belong to other people, other places and times, other lives—things that belong to the living, not the undead. Sentimentality, more universally-accepted morality, all of those Good™-aligned or softer feelings can feel like they have no place in his world now, on this darker path. But he knows what they are, not just in theory I think, but also perhaps knowing from memory and experience, however distant and faint. The way he speaks on many occasions has subtext that could very well suggest he wasn’t without a better side through implication and emotion. Which is not to say I think he was a shining paragon of virtue before he died—guessing based off of the dev team’s writing of him so far, I’m expecting nuanced and complex but ultimately very human (or elf if you’re being fantasy-based technical) morality with both merits and flaws, for polarizing opinions in the fandom. That being said, I’m holding off judgment on what kind of person he was before he was turned for now despite reading about pre-early-access, preliminary ideas the dev team had for his background. The reason I’m waiting to see what the dev team puts into the game for his backstory of Before, is because some of his datamined lines could be taken in a couple of different ways, and some of his emotional responses as is currently don’t track as truly Machiavellian or I’d say malevolent in nature for manipulation or otherwise. Granted, not all Evil™ acts stem from intentions to be malevolent. Sometimes people do evil both in-game and in life without really intending to, or recognizing that they do, nor seeing the harm they have caused or will cause (I’m looking at you, Mayrina.) Manipulative yes, but so far it’s looked like it’s for defensive purposes in a world that is out to hurt or kill him if given any opportunity whatsoever. Personally I actually wouldn’t even say he’s been really manipulative at all, but your mileage may vary. He lies because he’s afraid you’re going to murder him for being a vampire, and because he doesn’t want to reveal the cause of two centuries’ worth of trauma to someone he just met and likely can’t predict if they’re emotionally safe for him to interact with. Note: “emotionally safe” does not necessarily denote being sympathetic here, so much as “will their response cause me pain in some fashion?” from Astarion’s point of view, which does not necessarily require the MC to be mean to him though obviously that wouldn’t help. We touch upon why sympathy can hurt later on in this essay. And why would he expect sympathy in the other instance, regarding revealing that he’s a vampire? How often would we not murder strange vampires we just met in DND-worlds? Is that not a common response and practice in Faerun for the most part? They’re on the list of acceptable prey for a monster hunter to be kidnapped and taken to who knows what fate (probably nothing good we’re sure), and who would come rescue them? In all actuality: No one. If he wasn’t a companion he’d easily just be one more random encounter to kill—as he and all the companions are in the right circumstances, *cough cough* like when sacrificing anyone to Boooal *cough.* Astarion’s had little cracked moments where he seems to be showing genuine vulnerability, and I’d say he likely displays real genuine emotion plenty of times, just not all the time. While the vulnerable moments could be a ploy, were he the type to actually be fully acting, I’m disinclined to bet that he’d act in the way he does during those moments if he planned them out or even improvised. It could be a mix of both, where it’s both true but also an act of manipulation. Were it the last option, that would require more exploration of his character in various situations to determine imo. I still doubt that though. I think he’s a little too raw and real in his pain, anger, and aggression to say he’s being malevolently manipulative at the end of the day, at least thus far in chapter one. The MC’s choices may change and influence that, on the Evil™ route. I’ve been following some of the fantastic dash discussions on Astarion’s reaction to when the MC tries to comfort him (because of course I have, I’m here for BG3 content and Astarion content especially, aren’t we all here for the same party in his tag? Also hello fellow Astarion stans! :D I hope everyone’s having a good day), and if some of these datamined lines from Pjenn’s blog post are actually implemented and kept as canonical [link], specifically the ones Astarion says regarding heroes, I do think it ties in very strongly with some of what other folks have said regarding his recoiling reaction. Copy-pasted the potential dialogue lines of interest below: Astarion: Heroes. |said with disgust| Astarion: Heroes had two centuries to save me from my torture, but not one came knocking. Astarion: The strong had two centuries to pluck me from torture, but no one came. No, it was the mind flayers that rescued me. Astarion: I spent centuries as the victim of a corrupt man. It was the mind flayers that plucked me away from that. I very much enjoyed all the takes on Astarion’s potential motivations in his response, and I do want to chuck another idea into the fray that supports the vein of ideas that have him being truly afraid and then angry at the MC in that scene, with the speculation including those possible hero lines above as influence. Specifically, I’d like to bring in an outside comparison to part of Molly Grue’s reaction to seeing the Unicorn from The Last Unicorn animated movie for the first time, transcribed below: The Unicorn: I’m here now. Molly: [Bitter laugh] Oh? And where were you twenty years ago? Ten years ago? Where were you when I was new? When I was one of those innocent, young maidens you always come to? How dare you. How DARE you come to me now, when I am this. [begins to cry, heartbroken] Consider Astarion being shown kindness when he is now away from Cazador, not fully free or safe yet but not currently actively fully suffering Cazador’s torment all up close and personal. Consider that only on that very night before he was snatched up by the mindflayers, which might’ve been anywhere from only a day to a handful of days before this conversation about his nightmare, he was going out to falsely smile and lure some innocent—(“No innocents. You have my word.”)—or perhaps not so innocent, beautiful soul back to Cazador’s mansion to very likely die or be turned. How often must he do so? Is it every night he is ordered to go out and condemn someone else to that unfortunate fate? Do you think Cazador killed them cleanly? Quickly? Why would he, instead of agonizingly grinding out any last traces of sympathy his spawn might have through the guilt that they are the ones who “choose” who suffers and likely dies at Cazador’s hands that night? To give the illusion of choice is one abuse/torture tactic that can be used to break a soul that we see often in games: choose who suffers or dies. Cazador is unquestionably a personality who enjoys the psychological aspect of tormenting his victims, as evidenced by giving Astarion the “choice” to be either flayed or to “dine” on a rotting, dead rat, as well as other mentions of how he puts thought into torturing those around him. Astarion is still so fresh from his torment,—torment that is still technically on-going with the very real threats of resuming once more—he is emotionally bleeding enough arterial blood at the seams to fill a sea. His actions, words, and emotions so often metaphorically smell of blood, and not because he’s a vampire and the traditional role of a vampire being a predator among humanoids ironically enough, but because being a vampire spawn means Cazador. And Cazador means horror. Astarion has survived, yes, and it’s been hell. He’s still in hell, because he isn’t free yet. Not truly. It’s a desperate gasp of air, this taste of freedom, to dream that he could be free of Cazador. Imagine his feelings when he’s now in something like freedom, a reminder of what could be, what his life might’ve and likely was like once upon a time, an uncertain here-and-now where he has the possibility—just a possibility, and an unlikely one at that for most ordinary or less-than-ordinary people, not a certainty—of being free, and he’s just admitted to the horror that is Cazador. Admitted in this moment how much Cazador frightens him, how much just the thought of Cazador frightens him, how much the possibility he might be sent back to his master and having his previous tormented existence resumed truly frightens him. And the MC reaches out in sympathy. In acknowledgement that what Astarion has been through is horrifying. To look at this horror and say it is pain, and terror, and awful, that it isn’t normal. It isn’t something to ignore. It isn’t something to pretend is just everyday same old, same old, to numb and take off the edge as much as one can. That Astarion’s pain and fear aren’t to be sought out for entertainment or at best to be willfully neglected in an act of malice. That stark moment of contrast, like night and day, could bring the pain of two hundred years crashing down inside his head, all compressed into one moment. Feelings he tried so hard to survive through, ignore perhaps, suppress: fear, helplessness, loneliness, misery, anger, sorrow, hatred, pain, anxiety, distress, need. Memories, of so many instances that hurt in that moment and then continued to hurt for so long afterwards. How much must it hurt him, wound him, to lift his head for air and have a perspective outside of his suffering that is sympathetic...but knowing that nobody came to save him.  That perhaps, no one ever will, if he loses this so-called freedom and is dragged back under. That those that care, cannot help you. And that those that can help, do not care.  Why would anyone help him at this point after all? He’s a vampire spawn. A classically defined monster in the eyes of society, and he knows it. (”I’m not some monster!” / ”At best, I was sure you’d say no. More likely you’d ram a stake through my ribs.”) He must have been truly desperate in his starvation to chance anyone finding out he’s a vampire in the party. Not surprising, he can’t rest at the end of the day like the other companions can. He has to expend extra energy at that point to find food discreetly after fighting all day, and subpar food at that. (”Animal blood tastes like muck.” verification needed, it’s a conversational line in some branch of the morning-after he asks to bite the MC the first time) He’s not eating breakfast, snacks or lunch during the day, and he isn’t guaranteed to find food while hunting in the woods. Game might be scarce, he can be wounded or exhausted after a long day of fighting, and he wasn’t starting out in the peak of health to begin with either. He is a vampire spawn yes and apparently can take down large game such as boars to drain them, but that is a rough existence to condemn anyone to mechanically speaking. He knows what he’s risking, regardless of his int stat. But he takes that risk anyway. The character who is so survival driven, risking a very high likelihood of expulsion at best or death as the much-more-likely worst outcome of this attempt? His bite isn’t painless, and pain can wake a person up readily enough if they aren’t a deep sleeper, and how deep a sleeper are most people when in an uncertain and unfamiliar wilderness, potentially while hungry and cold, with the fretting fear of a agonizing death looming over their head? Even accounting for a lack of mental clarity from hunger and exhaustion and other factors, I find it deeply unlikely that Astarion is unaware of how big a risk he’s taking with the odds are stacked against him, rogue class or not. And even if he’s just thrown out of the group? He’s alone. Vulnerable. A target to be hunted by a much bigger, meaner predator. One that won’t kill him quickly, we can guess. His odds are much lower, on his own. Specifically his odds of not being dragged back to Cazador...assuming the MC doesn’t just turn him over to Gandrel. How terrifying is it to imagine that your suffering will never end, to be told it will never end, and then you are reminded of what it is like to not suffer for a time. To have felt the painful hope that maybe there is a possibility that you could escape an existence of torment...but knowing you very well might not? It is desperately bleak. It is no great leap of the imagination to hear Astarion saying—(or more likely thinking because this would be terribly vulnerable...but he might say something when pushed because he’s so full of sharp edges and bleeding insides still)—something similar to Molly Grue’s line in his own fashion, is it? Astarion: “[Bitterly laughing, mockingly so. As he speaks his tone breaks, an edge of raw, desperate hysteria slipping through, attached to centuries of pain turned to anger] And where were you two hundred years ago? A hundred years ago? Where were you when I still desperately thought in the deepest parts of my heart that someone might come? When I still had hope?  Astarion: [his voice turns low and venomous, raising in volume and accusation before finishing with a break on the final word “this”, a tonal admittance of how distraught and self-aware he is of what he’s had to do, of what he’s had to become to survive] How dare you. How DARE you say this to me now, when I am this.”  (the above lines are entirely fictional and are not from any in-game, data-mined, or otherwise official source or content) He’s been made to do so many terrible things, even just based off of the few lines we have heard in early access he’s been through so much horror. An hour of torture, a day, a month is so incredibly long. It can have such lasting impact on a person—PTSD, as we know it in this day and age. A year? Five years, ten, twenty, fifty, a hundred? An elf he may be, but from a human perspective...he’s been tortured for lifetimes. Even as an elf, two hundred years is a long time. More than long enough to seriously alter how someone’s brain works—people are both amazingly resilient, but also so incredibly fragile. Cazador has had all this time to play with Astarion’s brain, honestly I find it impressive Astarion has any sense of self left after all this time. That he’s still driven to survive, that he still feels anything at all. (”It doesn’t look broken. But then again, none of us do.”)  It doesn’t surprise me that he’s intensely bitter when encountering the “paladins” of Tyr—(ie Anders and company if you know who I mean—and was that a Dragon Age 2 reference? If not that is an amazing coincidence with the whole Anders-Justice-Vengeance-Demon thing there)—if the MC asks something to the tune of “Don’t you wish someone had helped you when you needed it?” Oh. Oh that had to be a painful question for him. Astarion had his basic needs denied and abused, to ask if he wished that someone had helped him when he needed that and more, and no one came? Why was he denied but the paladins get help? Why does he have to be the hero when no one came for him, when no one very well might come for him when he might still very well be in dire straits in the near future?  I can see the possible desire to inspire sympathy intended in the question from the MC, but it can be so utterly without sympathy to ask that in some contexts, and in Astarion’s case it is. He was being abused and controlled without any way out—Anders and his cohorts opted into the deal with Zariel for personal reasons, not as far as I know under threat of imminent death, and they are relatively capable of fulfilling their end of the bargain barring their current injuries at the time. They certainly have more freedom of choice than Astarion and other vampire spawn ever did, and they were not being tortured right then and there. Warlocks, referring to Anders and co., might even have the option to get out of deals, a la Wyll’s personal questline hook thus far. Astarion can’t get out of his servitude from Cazador. Cazador holds all the cards, makes all the decisions, has all of the power. To compare Astarion’s situation to his face with that of the “paladins”? I’m surprised he wasn’t spitting fury, honestly. They still have normal elements to their day to day life, despite their devil’s deal. They are not being tormented on the daily—yet. They are not in hell—yet. They can get out. They have the possibility. A possibility Astarion didn’t—until now. And isn’t that the most fucked up thing, that it wasn’t a force of Good™ that saved him, but an even bigger monster than Cazador himself? He was saved—by mindflayers, intending some fate that was likely worse for him than before. Even when the Absolute’s hand begins to be revealed in all this, he is still a pawn among monstrous masters. What heroes there are in the world, won’t come for him. They never did before, and they didn’t now. Heroes are for other people, for realities aside from his own. They are for other people, living Other lives. Not his life. Forces of Good™ swooping in to save the day, to correct the wrongs of the world and to make things Right™ just isn’t his normal. Not anymore, if ever it was. His normal was warped by Cazador a long time ago. Is it a stretch of the imagination that if Cazador twisted “dinner” to be a choice between consuming a rotting, putrid rat corpse or being flayed on a nightly basis, turning “poetry” into the memory of a “sonnet” carved into Astarion’s back with a razor over the course of an entire night full of Astarion’s own pained screams? Is it hard to imagine that Cazador also took pleasure in turning other ordinary situations one might encounter in normal life into nightmare versions as well for Astarion and his other spawn? One illithid mind-power option shows Cazador controlling Astarion by holding his chin, though without any further context. Cazador wouldn’t have had to do more than that to invoke terror, after a certain point in time. It seems highly unlikely the gesture wasn’t followed up with more pain, though. Perhaps in that moment when he speaks of his nightmare in the first conversation and the MC reaches out to him in sympathy...Astarion was reminded of something. Multiple somethings, multiple moments, when Cazador reached out to him oh so casually, and it ended in pain and terror. The way the camera is framed as of the current time in early access, the way he flinches away crying “No!” so quiet and low, his eyes wide and staring just so, how he goes so far as to pull back almost entirely out of frame and the camera slowly pans to follow him? Perhaps that is just a stand-in scene, but as it is, even now, it emphasizes that he is I would argue genuinely afraid, and reflexively responding in what is likely his first opportunity to freely respond to his traumatically induced fear. The first opportunity where he wasn’t supernaturally compelled to do exactly as Cazador ordered him to, the first opportunity where he was likely not going to be tormented further for expressing his fear, for having his main tormentor laugh and delight in his distress. The first instance where he for a split second let his guard down, and didn’t expect to be hurt—until the MC reached for him, echoing possible memories of what happened last time someone (Cazador) did that. It’s not Cazador reaching for him. But...it is not Cazador. He doesn’t have to worry about Cazador hurting him right that second, but...will the MC hurt him, like Cazador did? Will they make it look like they’re going to help him, that he can trust them, and then betray him? (”How can you be so cruel?” / “It [Raphael playing games] reminds me of Cazador, taunting his slaves with hope when he knew the game was rigged.”) But they scared him. They scared him, and perhaps for a moment he was back there, in another time and place, where he knows, where he remembers, vividly, perhaps even recently, what normally would have happened to him. And how dare they make him feel that. (“I can do without reliving that particular night, thank you.” [Nightmare about Cazador dialogue, a separate scene if you miss the insight check from the first post-nightmare camp discussion I believe.]) He’s so raw and upset, both aggressive and defensive when he speaks about his nightmares in quite a few of his lines, asking and waiting to explain just why his nightmares are truly so terrifying, especially in the second-nightmare conversation. The way he speaks there, and in other scenes, makes me very disinclined to interpret him as actively intending evil in general so much as having been shaped to be ruthless through a centuries-long trial by fire that he isn’t free and clear of yet. Based off of how he reacts on more than one occasion, I’m personally inclined to take a leaf from Wyll’s book and say I do think he has more than just potential to be good. “Good™” being relative of course to his situation and undead-life—Astarion has GREAT potential as a character to explore not only what it means to be Evil™ aligned, but also what people on the meta perceive as evil, as well as what prejudices we may carry from that labeling.  He is I think very much an excellent walking morality test and ironically a mirror for the player’s character. What kind of person is the MC, in how they treat and interact with him. He is a complicated and morally-entangled character, and it is so very easy to only read him in the here and now within the stark, daylight context of societal’s average norms without looking at the very real, very recent nightmarish Twilight Zone reality he’s lived in that echoes through his words and story thus far. It’s a marvelous bit of echoing reality and real life here by Larian, truth be told: how do you tell people about your life, when it’s been a ceaseless, unending nightmare? With smiles, witticisms, and the occasional polished lie that bleeds out pain, for some folks anyway, including Astarion. He says he’s having more fun at the goblin party, but at the tiefling party? That’s probably the first time he’s been at a normal party where he hasn’t had to obey and fear Cazador’s orders and inevitable torment during or afterwards. That’s the first time in his entire undead existence when he’s been in a social situation like this without being afraid, hurt, or manipulated. It’s not a fun party on its own by his standards, but it is a safe party for him. In a way though, safety can be boring. A luxury, yes, but in this case? For him, boring. And boring...might very well be irritating, in an anxiety-turned-irritation fashion, because he’s not being tormented right this very moment. He should be finding something to enjoy, because in his normal everyday routine? In the day to day that he would expect, that his subconscious expects out of habit? Opportunity for any form of enjoyment must be rare indeed, twisted and tainted by Cazador’s ever looming shadow over every minute of Astarion’s vampiric existence so far. It could be anxiety-inducing, to not seek pleasure or some form of happiness or comfort while there is opportunity for it, in what one perceives as a respite from constant, on-going suffering. (”Why do you insist on exhuming the past?” - when you ask about his past in camp, after you know he’s a vampire. An unpleasant reminder of an unpleasant past, why would he want to dwell on it? He has enough pain to last him multiple lifetimes. Literally.) From the deep, deep depths of prolonged suffering, it can potentially take a great deal more intensity of sensation to feel anything at all, let alone something approaching happiness. (”For the first time in two hundred years, I felt happy.” [presumed Astarion-origin line after drinking from a sleeping companion] / “I feel strong. I feel...happy!” [after MC succeeds in persuading Astarion to stop drinking from their neck after giving him permission to do so.]) This isn’t even taking into consideration how vampirism might have impacted Astarion’s psychology on a metabolic/biochemical level, so to speak. Where Larian goes with that is still to be determined, though my money’s on they give him more a murderous edge and natural inclination—not unlike a Beast-lite version of bloodlust from Vampire: The Masquerade— but still keep his core traits very much human rather than supernaturally-alien/2D-cut-out-monstrous. (Or elvhen, if we’re being fantasy-world-linguistically technical here again.) Touching on the matter of monstrous behavior though...It is a powerfully understated moment of casual cruelty that Larian allows the MC to decide once and once only, if Astarion may also drink from people or only animals. It’s so fitting I don’t believe it to be coincidence that he was a magistrate in his backstory—isn’t the MC passing a judgement too on him, a sentence to change his life for the foreseeable future, possibly forever without realizing or perhaps not caring about the full extent of their actions? And one cannot forget Wyll’s comment about the rat diet. Oh, can you not hear the resonating parallel real life pain from how those ignorant of another’s hurts might unintentionally mock the person and hurt them so? How some might apply their own morality from their own life experiences, without looking at the full extent of the consequences of their actions? A life and perspective that more likely has never been tested under the lash and upon the rack of some of life’s worst possible realities? Even if Wyll and the MC don’t mean to be, it is so very, very cruel. It is beautifully painful, Abdirak and the goddess Loviatar would be proud. (”My mind is finally clear. I feel strong. I feel...happy!”) To be denied not just better food, but the ability to think clearly, to feel well, the actuality of being happy as a norm? It is so very hollow an existence to feel so constantly weak of both body and mind, and oh isn’t it just the richest thing, that an MC might echo Cazador’s choice and power over Astarion thusly? It’s enough to make one laugh an Evil Laugh™ of appreciation at just how unthinkingly, horribly cruel a person can potentially be while playing a Good™ character. This is actually a level of genius on Larian’s part that I wonder how many in the audience will actually look at and appreciate the subtle horror of. The horror that we do this too, in real life, sometimes without ever knowing the seemingly small, far-reaching ripples of harm an unthinking phrase or comment can do when we don’t take another’s reality into consideration—that we don’t know what it is we don’t know. It is a fine piece of storytelling, to offer up a story with so many facets to reflect upon. It’s so beautifully crafted that Astarion speaks and dresses like a noble, that he can so easily be perceived as a person of privilege at first glance should one merely look at some of his surface behaviors and inclinations—remnant trappings of his distant past most likely, from once upon a time. It’s a delightful reveal and subversion that he, I think we can safely say, isn’t that. Perhaps he was, once, but he isn’t at this point in his life, not anymore. Appearances are deceiving, and doesn’t that just tie so nicely right into some of Astarion’s potential themes and behaviors? The lies that crack open as truth and pain come bleeding out from underneath? I do wonder how many of Larian’s audience have known hunger—and not known when the next meal will happen, what it might be, if it will have strings attached? The kind of hunger that follows you everywhere, that roots down into your bones and hollows out a home there forever more? It changes how a person sees things, how they act, how they think, even when they’re removed from being hungry all the time. One doesn’t need to be skin and bones to feel like one is starving constantly,—(I very much enjoy that headcanon just to clarify, I’m not intending to throw shade in any of this or future rambling)—to be kept on a hollow diet of empty calories that are enough to keep your heart pumping, but your body struggles because it doesn’t have the nutrients it needs in the amounts it needs? To feel your mind fog over with exhaustion and blanketed despair, a primal and low level desperation whittled down into a tired and numb, anxious background static from adrenal fatigue? Miscellaneous aches, pains and problems that seem unrelated but in reality, if only you knew, were because your body can’t function the way it should ideally, because you don’t have what you truly need? A very real problem in real life, for far too many people. And oh, the beautiful, casual, so very human monstrousness Larian lets us exercise here, knowing or unknowing. It is such a powerful, understated cluster of ideas. And I think Larian knew—someone on the dev team did their homework on both traditional starvation but also what one might call masked-starvation as no doubt other tumblr folks have also speculated, just based off of what we’ve seen and because of that Happy buff Astarion gets when he uses his Vampiric Bite ability in combat. It fits right into his whole theme of “what makes a monster and what makes a man?” (Sing the bells of Notre Dame~♪) But not necessarily asking that question only of him. Rather, asking it also of the MC. This fits into the game’s whole theme with the tadpoles, the choice of using the power and turning into “Something More Beautiful” as Minthara put it, of taking the darker path, it all fits so very well. I just want to applaud this because it’s not a major story-beat moment. It’s a companion-side-quest moment. It’s going to be for the most part seen as a combat-game-mechanic and head-canon defining moment, deciding if Astarion may feed on people or not. I doubt we’d see Larian actually changing Astarion’s demeanor much in how he delivers lines with a “allowed to drink people blood” code flag, as cool as that might be. It very well could factor into later outcomes but for voice acting I doubt they’ll make an entire second/third/etc set of each line spawning from that one seemingly small choice. It makes me very hopeful that Larian can handle such weighty themes so deftly thus far—we’ll have to wait and see if they can stick the landing once the game is finished, but boy oh boy their nuance and delivery so far is strong as steel and sharp as a double-edged sword right out of the gate. The studio is in a fantastic position to explore and to challenge people’s thoughts and ideas regarding character builds like Astarion’s imo, depending on how the dev team chooses to play it out. Seeing some of Gale and Shadowheart’s dialogue trees from the goblin party, I have high hopes that the dev team will allow a great deal of exploration and flexibility all across the moral spectrums, not only allowing us the option to drag the more seen-as-good-aligned characters down paths of moral corruption,—(note: I’m including Shadowheart in more neutral-ish territory for now but the fact that she seems to feel emotionally ill—guilty, one could say—at the goblin party and is busy trying to get drunk to drown that feeling out suggests to me she Definitely does have a more good-aligned moral compass to a nuanced degree)—but also the chance to drag more seen-as-evil-aligned characters along the path to more traditionally good endings and persuade them to see the benefits of playing nice with others per more classic Good™ societal rules (subjectively speaking ofc.) But Larian is also in a very precarious place too—speaking strictly of just the one character as the focus of this essay, Astarion resonates very easily through that very real fear, pain, anger, bitterness and so many other emotions as a result of what he has survived, is still surviving through, and struggling against: trauma. How bitter indeed would it be should a character—that people with very deep, real pain can relate to—not get at least the option for a well-crafted, hopeful and merciful epilogue? Oh the sympathetic pain that Larian could reap could be pain of the very worst kind, if they condemn him to only death and darkness with bleak endings that lack nuance and care. I’ve seen some posts where people worry about Astarion not potentially having a good ending, with possible unspoken implications that he might be railroaded into betraying the MC. I’d like to say that I think a lot of his subtext, even looking at the instances where he lies and the datamined details of the voice-acting-directions, would run counter to railroading him to only ever betraying the MC. I think straight betrayal is going to run as mostly antithetical to his core themes in a way. He might betray your MC—but it will likely be because the MC betrayed him first in a myriad of small ways, or in a big way. Approval-rating-system based choices are a very real possibility too, separately or as a part of the equation naturally, in addition to your major in-game choices. That would also include the scenario of betrayal through using the tadpole powers enough to be mind-controlled into having no will of his own, much like the other characters, including the MC. I do think we have plenty of good, solid reason to be very hopeful that he will have a possible good continuation—not ending. A continuation where he manages to free himself from Cazador with the help of his companions or perhaps dare he even say friends, manages to begin the process of healing the immediate pains of his trauma and learning how to truly live with all that he’s been through and all that he’s done, to have the possibility of not only living but living both happily and well for the most part? Who knows what else Larian Studios might have in the works for him and the other companions, as well as the MC and the story of Baldur’s Gate 3. But good outcomes for all seems like it very likely could happen, for all of the companions. His wiki page’s summary tagline hook in particular offers up that implied promise from the developers to the audience, I would say, “Astarion prowled the night as a vampire spawn for centuries, serving a sadistic master until he was snatched away. Now he can walk in the light, but can he leave his wicked past behind?” What that promise is, varies from creator to creator. In this case, based on the wording, I would say that potentially implies a satisfyingly well-crafted and engaging story wherein we find out and determine if the answer to that question is yes or no, and in a DND-based RPG full of choices that have an impact on the people and world around you? In a game genre that has a history of multiple, varied endings for your companions based on how you play? That checks out. Larian so far has been handling things admirably well in my opinion, and I’m willing to invest emotionally in this story they’re telling with the trust that they will deliver a good continuation and conclusion. But on the off-chance that somehow Astarion’s endings all turn out painful and tragic on the meta for the fanbase, that the associated intentional or unintentional messages wound and grieve those who recognize and resonate most strongly with the pains he has felt? On that off-chance, in that instance where we are left bereft and disappointed because of what happened to him or any of the companions or the story itself should somehow things go awry, then it would be your right to ask Larian the very same question Astarion asked you once: How can you be so cruel?

[dessarious]

Misconceptions, Miscommunication, and Misinformation Pt83

Inspired by @ozmav Maribat AU

AO3   Beginning   Previous   Next

“So, you want us to let you move into a mansion with Damian and absolutely no adult supervision?” Marinette blinked at her mother for a moment before frowning. There had to be someone coming to make everything look legit from Damian’s side right? Even if her parents would act as though they lived there Bruce Wayne would surely insist on an adult presence for appearances sake, right?

“I think someone from Damian’s family will be coming. Tim’s the CEO so he can’t stay indefinitely, but I believe someone should be coming to replace him.” She’d have to talk to Damian about that. It’s not like he had a shortage of siblings so they might rotate for all she knew. “Besides, the Kwami will all be there.”

Sabine gave her a flat look before running her eyes over the beings in question. Digg was trying to put the kitchen in order while Tom explained that everything was exactly where he wanted it, no matter how much the Kwami claimed things should be arranged by height, color, even weight at one point. Her father looked to be nearing the end of his rope. Primm was watching the light filter through the window, occasionally forcing it to refract as if through a prism and giggling to themself. Jett was watching and Marinette caught the Kwami of Darkness shatter the effect more than once and smirking when Primm pouted. Lyccen was… wait where was Lyccen? Before Marinette could get too concerned Lyccen stormed into the bakery from the apartment with a bag of chips in hand looking furious.

“Who even does this?” They held up the bag of chips and Marinette saw it was something Sabine’s side of the family sent them as a joke. Baked bacon cheese with seaweed flavor. “I’m the Kwami of Anarchy for crying out loud and I still would never do something like this!” Sabine just raised an eyebrow at Marinette.

“Well they’re not wrong. You can’t tell me you haven’t wondered about the sanity of some of the people coming up with different combinations of flavoring for things.” Okay, so the Kwami might be more like babysitting little kids, but it would still keep her out of trouble.

“Marinette, you may be the Guardian of these beings but I am still your mother and you’re still a minor. I’m not going to let you stay in a house with only other teenagers, gods that act like teenagers, and some unknown adult that may only be a few years from being a teenager themself. If Tom and I are the only adults who can be there because of your responsibilities we’ll make a schedule and hire help if we need to so one of us can be there.” Marinette frowned at the thought. She didn’t want to upend their lives and business because she suddenly couldn’t get around her home.

“Let’s talk to Damian and see what his family plans to do first. He and Tim should be here soon anyway to look over and set up the chair.” They’d had to go back to the apartment for some reason, but said they’d be along shortly. She hadn’t had a chance to ask what they were comfortable sharing with her parents. Given her mother’s hang up on age she wasn’t sure it would help her knowing they were also vigilantes.

“That’s it! Get out of my kitchen.” Marinette started at her father’s bellow. The man was normally a huge teddy bear but he did have his limit. Watching him shove Digg out of the kitchen was amusing by itself, but the Kwami’s confused expression made it hilarious.

“I was just trying to help, nothing in there makes sense.” Digg sounded moderately offended, but Lyccen laughed at him from across the room.

“Get off your high horse. Some artists need chaos to thrive and others just have a process that looks like chaos to those not in their head. I promise that kitchen is in perfect order, you just don’t understand how.” Digg frowned at them.

“That doesn’t make any sense if there is order, I would know.” Primm was the one who giggled this time.

“No you wouldn’t. You’re too much like Jett. Neither of you is interested in the world except for your function in it and you refuse to acknowledge that your effects might take shapes you didn’t intend. Humans constantly form chaos into order and turn order to chaos in new and interesting ways. You simply believe that since you are order personified you understand everything about it when in fact you have tunnel vision.”

Digg and Jett both glared at the Kwami of Light but they had already gone back to playing with the light coming through the window. Yeah, this was definitely going to be like looking after little kids. What exactly had Tikki been thinking? The Kwami she could renounce caused enough trouble but these four she was going to have to watch constantly. Her mother looked like she was about to burst into laughter

“Perhaps you don’t need to have an adult presence since you’ll have to be one. That won’t leave you much time to get into normal trouble. Unfortunately someone does need to watch them while you’re in school.” Marinette just wrinkled her nose in annoyance. She had a successful business and as soon as a couple contracts went through she’d be set for life monetarily unless she started being really reckless. Yet her parents still insisted she finish school.

“Well I could just transfer to homeschooling to be able to keep an eye on them.” Sabine rolled her eyes.

“If we let you home school you would just work on commissions non stop. You need to develop the ability to have a proper work life balance and allowing you to not surface from your work for weeks or months at a time won’t help that.” Marinette shared a look with Chloe and could see her thoughts mirrored on the other girls face. Chloe would never say it out loud because she didn’t want to anger the woman. Marinette had no such filter.

“This from a woman who lives in her business and has no social life outside of customers and one or two friends she hardly ever sees.” She knew as the words were coming out that she should just shut up but couldn’t make herself do it. The look on her father’s face was sheer terror and even the Kwami were looking at her like she’d completely lost it. She was starting to wonder if being crippled had destroyed her self preservation instincts. Maybe it was a form of depression? No. As she looked at her mother’s frighteningly blank face she knew exactly what had happened. All kids pressed their parent’s buttons to test limits and see how far they could go. She didn’t do it often but every time she did she overshot the line by a few meters at least. This would probably go down as one of her worst decisions ever.

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[dutten-does-the-fanfic]

Obviously you don’t have to say anything if you don’t feel motivated or don’t want to write but i was wondering if you had any big plans for the future- both personal/original projects and fan fictions. Love ur writing! Again, plz i mean not to pressure you just genuinely curious

Hello! And thank you, that’s so sweet of you :3 I don’t remember if I’ve said this (I’m pretty sure I have??) but I’m currently in uni, and course-load and exams have practically made it their mission to kick my ass at every possible moment, which is why there are these long breaks where I’m just, completely inactive (and I hate it, but I haven’t unlocked enough levels of adult to figure out how to healthily balance my work life and personal life - maybe in a few years ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

But I am still writing!! (or, am going to be when I get a moment to breathe) Definitely motivated and interested and keeping at it!! :D

As for projects, oh boy. What haven’t I got going on (loads, is the answer, but to go over a few!)

I don’t really have any original projects - I’ve never really liked creating oc’s for some reason? I much prefer having the characters from a show/book/whatever and working off of them for the story/plot whilst still keeping some of the character we all fell in love with intact - I don’t know. I really love making small comments about the OG platform (quotes, moments, mentions, really anything, just small easter eggs for myself and whoever reads the story) that I obvs wouldn’t be able to make with my own OG content xD Everything would be canon then.

As for fanfiction! So much!! Absolutely none of it is finished, because I have zero patience or sense of delayed gratification when it comes to posting - I just want it all out at once and to read everyone’s comments at once xD

I’ve got stories going for a few different fandoms and ideas just written down in my ever-growing ideas-doc for even more! I think I’m going to correctly assume you might be here for the SKAM fics, tho ;p

Basically, I’m horrible with understanding what is and isn’t a spoiler because I know the twists and turns so I just take it all for granted - however, when I actively try to describe a fic without spoilers, they end up sounding genuinely dull xD But I’ll do my best without giving too much away!

I’ve basically got so many stories going at once that I genuinely have no idea how many there are as I always forget some, so here are a selected few!

Obvs, there’s Even’s POV for “Something Great” (aka “that fic” aka my twitter legacy) which is nowhere near done. I’m really loving what I have got down, though! As far as I remember, I’m about 8k in, but I’m shooting for 30-40k, so no time frame. In case you didn’t know, I’ve done an entire announcement post where there are also a few previews included :D

Then there’s a pretty much crack fic with some angst and a way for me to memorize my course work that actually isn’t too far from being finished, but... it needs some work. It’s basically one of those “heeey, you’re pretty much my best friend and I don’t have unrequited feelings for you at all (lies), so it’s totally okay that we pretend to hook up to get back at our roommate who keeps sexciling us only for it to turn real” kind of AU.

Then there’s the other crack fic from boy squad’s POV (well, Jonas, but they practically serve as one entity) about them being oblivious to Evak until one day Isak announces #Evak is real, but they’re just so sure they would have noticed something, so they think Isak and Even are pranking them, so they set out expose them. A+ content, if I have to say so myself.

Next there’s my newest pride and joy that I’ve currently got sitting somewhere between 50-60k with no end in sight. I love this story, I cannot being to describe just how much I love this story. There is so much to this story, and I don’t want to give anything away :’( Basically, Isak has quite serious trauma from something that happened in his childhood, and it’s set during his second year in high school - he’s living in the Kollektiv (with four rooms, ‘cause I aint sending Noora to London), and he’s got the boy squad, Eva and Jonas are still dating so the girl squad also make a lot of appearances. And it’s basically just this major character exploration of the different ways Isak’s trauma appears, how it impacts the way he interacts with other people, the way he sees the world and other people, how he basically doesn’t deal with the trauma and how severely it affects him. And then there’s this entire thing about the sudden suicide of a famous Norwegian pianist (not one of the major characters, I ain’t about that life) that somehow ties into everything and everything turns very shady.

That barely covers the actual story and I’m pretty sure it sounds so jumbled up, but I literally can’t figure out how to describe it without spoilers.

Then we’ve got another angst-galore! A traveling AU! Which, timing, I know. We’ll ignore that. With my pace, it won’t be ready until traveling is allowed again anyway ^__^’ It plays on the themes of lost and found, and it’s basically about how Even travels to find out who he is, but he ends up finding Isak instead, running into him in different cities and countries, and they fall in love, but Isak is traveling to lose himself and everyone - ah. Angst-galore indeed.

What else - there’s a snakesak ABO!AU, because I’ve never written either, and for some reason, I must’ve apparently felt the need to put the two together. ABO is the kind of AU that pretty much everyone holds different opinions on - it’s not a tag I filter out, but it pretty much differs from story to story how much I like it. All I know is, when it is done well, it is done well.

I know there are more, because there are always more. I’ve definitely got so many ideas that I haven’t gotten anything down more than the premise: There’s a murder mystery AU, because I’ve wanted to do one pretty much since I wrote the first chapter for Beat the Record (you know, back when it was still just supposed to be a oneshot xD) and now I’ve finally got a basic storyline for it! Featuring detective Even who has been demoted to a permanent deskjob and basically only kept on out of pity after screwing up evidence? an assignment? plans still pending. Not accepting this, he sets out to catch the new serial killer with the help of newly hired forensic scientist Isak, whom he asks for help because of how talented Isak is, not because Even has a big-ass crush on him. Then there’s the university AU that’s basically a rom/com where Even is one of the hosts for the uni’s radio station, sees pretty boy Isak generally being a mess, falls instantly in love and keeps talking about “the cute boy” on the radio, asking if anyone knows his name and if they can get him his number. Isak only finds out about it because Magnus is a listener and accidentally figures it out.

And so many more. Literally. We are talking pages upon pages, let alone some quite long stories I also have going for other fandoms. I seriously can’t wait - I just need to get myself writing xD

I hope this helps tide over the long waiting period a little :) xx <3

[eldritch-obscuritea]

The Fog In The Morning, Part 1

AN: Maaaan, I gotta stop posting stuff under the wrong blog. Anyhow, this part really took on a life of its own. I haven’t the faintest idea how it got so long! Well, I hope someone likes it :D

Word Count: 1605

Content: Mild (nonexplicit) violence, bit of blood

Liu had always loved pineapple cake, as far as he could remember. Which admittedly, wasn’t far at all. Liu had a terrible memory, something which had earned him more than one concerned letter home even at the tender age of seven. He always found himself leaving worksheets, backpacks, and sometimes even his shoes at home. School materials were one thing, but shoes? That was unusual, or crazy, as Jeff liked to put it. 

Jeff called a lot of things crazy. Their mom, their dad, and all of his teachers, for example. He called Liu’s shoes crazy, since Liu forgot to wear them extraordinarily often. Even Jeff himself was “a complete nutjob,” a fact which Jeff proclaimed almost proudly sometimes. 

Liu didn’t really mind Jeff’s calling his shoes crazy. He didn’t really mind Jeff calling himself crazy either, though he could never understand why Jeff would do so. Jeff was cool, and never afraid of anything, while Liu felt afraid almost all the time. He had mentioned this to Jeff a few times, but the response was always the same. Jeff would grin and shake his head, as if he’d never heard anything sillier in his life. 

“What’re you talking about,” he’d say. “We’re bros. We both gotta look out for each other, since Mum and Dad are too crazy to themselves. Or maybe not crazy enough, huh?” And then he’d smile at Liu. “I can protect you, if it really comes down to that. Heck, every kid in town knows not to mess with me!”

-

“Tag, you’re it!” Jeff hollered, running across the parking area which served as St. Mary Mackillop Elementary School’s playground. The third grader whom Jeff was now dashing away from yelled gleefully, and took off after another one of their classmates. 

Liu kept watching from the corner of the parking lot. He didn’t really recognise any of Jeff’s classmates, since they were in the grade below him. Honestly he didn’t know half of his own classmates, even though the grade sizes were small and he’d been at the school since kindergarten. He sighed, and leaned his head back against the warm brick wall. 

A voice spoke next to him. “They look like they’re having a good time.” Liu turned his head sharply, jumping back. A larger boy had addressed him, and was now looking at him curiously. Red hair flopped into his eyes as he tilted his head and said “What, you paranoid or something?” 

“No,” Liu retorted quickly. “I just- you- euh- h-” He took a deep breath in, buried his face in his sleeve, and then let it out slowly, stale air filtering through the soft fabric and into his nose. Then he looked up at the other student. “You shouldn’t startle people if they aren’t paying attention. It’s rude.”

The redheaded boy shrugged. “Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to.” They stood for a few seconds in awkward silence, and Liu tried to work up the courage to say that he should go, or that he needed to use the bathroom, or really anything which would end this encounter. Thankfully, Jeff chose that moment to saunter over to Liu, his short brown hair sticking up stiffly with sweat. 

“You should come join us!” Then he noticed the boy standing near Liu, and his chipper mood diminished ever so slightly. “You can too, I guess, if you want.” 

The redhead shrugged again. “Maybe.” He gestured at Liu, who was standing rather still. “What’s up with him? He crazy or what?” 

For all Jeff’s talk about Liu’s shoes, he would never call Liu himself crazy, and he would definitely never, ever let some kid insult Liu like that, even if said kid was a solid six inches taller than him. Liu could see the spark of combat flash in Jeff’s eyes, and he quickly said “Yeah Jeff, I’d love to. Let’s go.” He glanced at the other boy, who rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, I guess I’ll play too.” And with that, Jeff grabbed Liu’s wrist and pulled him towards the middle of the parking lot. 

The game of tag was mostly a blur. What wasn’t a blur was the image of Jeff, staggering backwards with eyes wide and his knuckles pink from impact. The redhead was also staggering backwards, hands over his nose. Red dripped between his fingers, splattering on the pavement. A teacher, Mrs. Lorrie, was making her way towards them, and a small ring of other students clustered round to watch what would happen. 

Liu stood, frozen. What was going to happen? Jeff had been in trouble for fighting before, and Liu knew it’d make their mother upset. She was always worrying about whether he and Jeff would be “good people,” and Liu hated seeing disappointment and concern on her face. He crossed his fingers, hoping that the school wouldn’t call home. 

“Boys.” Mrs. Lorrie had arrived, and was eyeing the scene disapprovingly. “Come with me. I’m taking you to the principal’s office.” Jeff and the other boy sullenly followed, and Liu did as well with some hesitation. 

They entered the school building, and the smell of sunlight and the outdoors was replaced by dust from a hallway that was pleading for a thorough clean. Mrs. Lorrie’s shoes clicked on the old tile floor. Halfway down the hallway they stopped at an old, dark wooden door, a door which Liu knew all too well. She opened in, and waved the three boys inside. 

“Ah, Mr. Woods.” A middle aged woman with bright eyes smiled as Liu walked in. She turned to Jeff and the other boy as they filed in after him. “Welcome, welcome. All of you, sit down.” 

They did so, Jeff plopping himself with confidence Liu could tell was feigned. Liu himself didn’t feel confident at all, and neither did the other boy from the looks of it. Once they were all seated, the principal turned to Jeff. 

“Now then, what’s this I hear about you and Randy here getting into a fight? You know that there’s always a better way to handle the situation than that.” she said sternly. 

Jeff quickly began to protest. “Well he pushed me when-”

“I didn’t push you! You ran into me!” 

“Yeah right, I never-”

“Mrs. Henning, this isn’t fair-”

“Boys!” For the first time, all traces of a smile were gone from the principal’s face. Both Jeff and the boy stopped talking, still throwing dirty looks at each other. She steepled her fingers and sighed. “Alright, Jeff, what happened?”

Jeff leaned forwards, hands gripping the edge of the table. “Well, Mrs. Henning, I was playing tag with my classmates when I noticed this kid approaching Liu. Liu looked really scared, so I went to protect him right? And then when I get there, this kid goes and calls Liu crazy! I still wanted to try to be friends, so I invited them both to play tag, but halfway into the game he rams into me, so I hit him back. I swear I didn’t think I hit him that hard, I only wanted to make him back off-” 

“That’s enough. Liu, do you have anything to add?” 

“No ma’m.” Liu said quickly. Then he flushed. “Well, Jeff was trying to protect me, and I was startled when this kid approached, but I don’t think he was trying to scare me.” 

Mrs. Henning turned towards the redheaded boy. “What do you have to say about this?” 

He reached for a tissue and held it up to his nose. “Well I didn’t mean to scare this kid, I didn’t even think that I would. He’s in the grade above us, and he was hanging out by himself so I wanted to try talking to him. And I didn’t run into Jeff, he ran into me! And I tried to say sorry anyways, but he just punched me in the face like he’s crazy or so-” 

Jeff stood up indignantly, but sat down reluctantly upon seeing Mrs. Henning’s disapproving look. “Mr. Jokinen.” The redhead appeared to be busy admiring the woodwork of the desk. “I request that you not call your peers ‘crazy’ again. Is that clear?” The boy nodded, and she sighed. 

“While Jeff does have a history of being disruptive, in light of his good intentions, I’m going to let you two off with a warning.” The smile reassembled itself on her face. “Now Mr. Jokinen, it looks like your nose has stopped bleeding but take a few tissues with you just in case. Mr. Woods, I expect you to be on your best behavior. And Liu.” She turned towards him with bright, light brown eyes and Liu flinched instinctively. She only smiled softly. 

“Take care of yourself, alright?”

“Yes’m” Liu mumbled. 

Mrs. Henning nodded. “You three may leave then.” The three boys quietly filed out of the office. 

“Man, I thought we were fried!” Jeff fistpumped the air. “10/10 sweet talking skills, score for me!” 

Liu looked around. “Where’d that other kid go?”

Jeff paused his victory dance. “Hm?” He glanced up and down the hallways. “I dunno. Might’ve gone to the bathroom to clean up. I would if I were him.” He laughed as they started to walk back down the hall. “Can you imagine what the kids in class are gonna say? He’s probably gonna have at least one black eye for weeks, and from a kid half his size! I almost feel bad for him.”

“Almost,” Liu echoed. 

The two boys reached the door and stepped outside, greeted by a gaggle of students eager to hear the principal’s verdict. Liu was sure Jeff wouldn’t dissapoint.

[etherealwaifgoddess]

But Then Came You - Chpt.1

Summary: Loki tries to plan his next moves after being dropped off in a post Decimation New York City. Master list can be found HERE.

Content Warnings: A sassy reader not afraid to call Loki out on his bullshit

Word Count: 3.2k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! The first chapter is here! Woo. I know I said 6pm but I literally have no chill when it comes to this fic. There’s no long build up in this one, just straight to our main characters meeting. I hope you enjoy! Chapters will be posted daily. XOXO - Ash

Chapter One

New York is a shell of the bustling metropolis it once was. Loki wanders the half filled streets quietly planning his next move, still unsure of what to do. The Eluskans had been kind enough to drop him off on Earth since he had nowhere else to go. The fall of Asgard still weighed heavily on his mind, his home planet which thrived for millennia gone in a fiery apocalypse. He had been given a few thousand dollars of US currency and a change of clothes to help get him on his way. They really were the kindest people. Loki had to perpetually bite his tongue so as not to lash out at them for trying to help. It wasn’t their fault they didn’t understand what they had done in bringing him back. Their intentions were good but it doesn’t erase the dreams and memories that have haunted Loki since his resurrection. 

The city feels empty in the wake of The Decimation. It had taken Loki a full day of walking through the abandoned neighborhoods to fully understand what had occurred on Earth over the past few weeks. New York was doing what it did best though; the communities were rallying round each other, helping support those displaced by the loss of family and friends. 

The summer heat wears on Loki and he starts looking for somewhere he can cool off for a bit. He’s hesitant to use his seidr to relieve himself of the heat as it’s been spotty at best since he was brought back. The healers advised it would take some time to return to its former strength after all he’d been through. They had encouraged him to practice with it daily to help strengthen it, like one would do for a weakened muscle. Loki wants little to do with his seidr however. It was the reason they had found his body, the incessant little spark that refused to die, and had also led to his resurrection.

The cafe is empty except for the two baristas who are deep in conversation when Loki enters. He’s running on three days of no sleep and needs the small relief caffeine will bring. The icy blast of air conditioning is helping his fatigue as well and Loki hopes he will be able to linger with his drink for a while without disturbing anyone. 

“What can I get you?” The overly cheerful blonde barista asks him. Her name tag reads “Sunny” and Loki almost chuckles at how appropriate that is.

“Espresso, please. A quad shot.” Loki requests. 

“Anything else?”

“No, that will be all.”

“Name for the cup?”

“Loki” 

Your head snaps up at the name. It’s too rare to be anyone else. “Holy forking shirtballs you’re him! I mean, you’re… you.” You blurt out at an embarrassingly loud volume. 

Loki stares at you like you’ve sprouted six heads. “I beg your pardon?” His tone is almost offended, but mostly baffled by your outburst.

“Sorry, I binge-watched The Good Place on Netflix last weekend. And I didn’t mean to call you out like that, I just… know of you. Never expected to meet you face to face like this though.” 

“The Good Place? Netflix?” Loki is still lost, now bordering on irritated. You speak in the hurried way he’s come to associate with youth, your gestures animated as you talk. If he can’t be served his drink here he’ll have to trudge along for who knows how long until he can find another cafe or, Norns forbid, a Starbucks. 

“It’s a show. And you know, Netflix. The streaming service?”

Loki stares blankly at you.

You’re certain your face is the same shade as a tomato as you continue to flounder for words around him. “Or I guess you probably don’t know. I’m sorry. You know that filter most people have between their brains and their mouths? I don’t have one of those. So I’m gonna go get your espresso and leave you alone now. Sorry, again, really.” You slink away to the espresso bar and start queuing up his shots, praying that the ground will just open up and swallow you whole so you don’t have to face Loki again. 

Sunny gives Loki a grin and a half shrug, “You’ll have to forgive Y/N. I wish I could say she’s not normally quite that awkward but she totally is. She means well, you just got her a little starstruck.” 

“Starstruck?” Loki raises an eyebrow at Sunny in disbelief. 

“Yeah, totally.” Sunny nods enthusiastically, “You’re a literal god. Who wouldn’t be?” 

“It’s not the reaction I get from most Midgardians.” He confesses. 

“Oh right, because of the whole ‘trying to take over New York’ thing.” 

Loki nods at her assumption.

“You don’t have to worry about that with us.” Sunny assures him, “Matter of fact, Y/N did a whole paper on it our first year at Columbia. I think she did it just to piss off our psych professor but it was some of her best work. She argued that it was proof anyone can be peer pressured into anything.”

“Peer pressure?!” Loki sputters incredulously. 

“Well, yeah. I mean, Y/N can explain it better, but basically she drew parallels between Thanos preying on your weaknesses, ie. your desire to rule somewhere, and getting you to do his dirty work for him, to a bully preying on a weaker kid’s insecurities and pressuring them into doing something bad.” 

Loki scowls over at your back, displeased to have a deeply traumatic event reduced to something so simplistic. “I don’t think it was quite that simple.” Loki grumbles. 

You hear his grumble, unable to ignore the conversation going on behind your back. “It kinda was though.” You mutter beneath your breath. Or at least, you meant for it to be under your breath. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N, was it?” Loki’s tone is bordering on venomous. “Please, come tell me how you know better about a part of my life than I do.” 

The blush that had started to recede flares up again and you force yourself to remain calm and steady as you finish pouring the espresso and turn to face Loki. You spent a whole semester working on that paper and stand by your conclusion. Like hell were you going down without a good fight. “I’m not saying I know your life better than you do.” You clarify, “But I do think the whole ‘Battle of New York’ business is a prime example of peer pressure.” 

Loki’s eyes widen, he’s surprised you’re standing by your preposterous notion even with him glaring daggers at you. “Do I look like an emotionally fragile child to you?” He demands.

“No, but that’s the point. It can happen to anyone. Maybe I’m wrong, but let’s get a few things straight first.” Your brain has gone into investigator mode and you’re in your element now. Loki waives a hand dismissively letting you continue, “Who sought out who? Did you go looking for Thanos or did he find you?”

“He found me.” Loki replies evenly.

“Before you met Thanos had you ever considered attacking New York?”

“No.” 

“Would you have tried attacking New York or any other place by yourself?”

“Well, no. But…”

“Nope. No buts, mister.” You ignore his scowl, you’re on a roll. Excitement is thrumming through your veins, his answers lining up just the way you want them to. “And how did Thanos convince you to try? Did he by chance remind you of all the awful things your adoptive family did to you? Hiding your heritage, denying you of your rightful throne?” 

“It was common knowledge.” 

“Mhmm. And he offered you a place to rule. You only had to help him with one simple, little thing. You knew your brother favored Earth, right?”

“He is overly fond of this planet, yes.”

“And Thanos probably hinted that you’d be ruling the place that was special to your brother. The brother that was given the throne that should have been yours.” 

“Thor and I have reconciled since…”

“But not six years ago you hadn’t.” You shot Loki a cocky grin, you had him right where you wanted him. “So let’s recap, shall we? A more powerful person reached out to you, reminded you of the alienation of those closest to you, played up your supposed right to rule, offered you a chance to do so, and get back at your brother in the process. He offered you everything you could possibly want and the means to get it. Despite the means being wrong and you knowing they were wrong. Sounds like a bully and peer pressure to me.” 

Loki scowled harder to suppress the smirk that was trying to upturn his lips. You had impressed him more in five minutes than anyone else had in five hundred years. “Insightful little Midgardian. I don’t agree with your theory but you clearly put a lot of thought behind it.” 

“I did, thanks. But how are you here? The news said you died in transit to Earth from Asgard. Not like you haven’t fake died before, but still. It seemed pretty legit this time.” 

“The news was correct, I did die. And now I’m here. Waiting on that espresso you’re holding.”

You look down at the steaming cup in your hand, “Oh, right. Sorry. Here you go.” You pass the drink to him and his surprisingly cold fingers brush faintly over yours making goose bumps prickle along your arm. “So, what are you doing here in New York? Other than getting a caffeine fix?” 

Loki takes a sip of his coffee, sighing softly in relief before replying. “I’m not sure yet.” 

You give him a half smile and a shrug, “Well, enjoy your drink.” 

“I will.” Loki nods and moves off to the table in the far corner by the window. 

You turn your back on Loki to face Sunny, eyes wide, your face splitting into a grin. You mouth oh my god to her dramatically and she stifles a giggle. Loki is only across the room and you’re not too keen on making a fool out of yourself again in front of him. Unsure of how long he plans to stay, you busy yourself cleaning the espresso machine to pass the time. You’ll have a lifetime of gossiping with Sunny once he leaves.

Loki sits quietly watching people pass while he drinks his espresso. The dark brew hits his system like a gut-punch and he can feel the drowsiness retreating a little. It’s enough to keep him going a bit longer and that’s all he can ask for at this point. He knows he will need to sleep at some point soon, god or not he’s still flesh and bone. Sunlight hits the curly golden brown hair of a woman across the street and images of his mother blossom in his mind unbidden. The ache in his chest threatens to double him over but he steels himself, clenching the cup in his hand as hard as he dares without crushing it. 

Your eyes keep wandering back to Loki who’s transfixed looking out the cafe window. You try to keep busy but it’s difficult with him so near by. You’d seen many pictures of him and learned so much while working on your paper; it’s no surprise he’s attractive but you had clearly underestimated how attractive he is in person. You notice the second Loki sees something upsetting, the way his eyes darken and his face takes on a haunted expression. You give up pretending you’re unaffected by his presence and head across the room, settling down in the chair opposite him at the table. “You okay?” You ask him softly.

Loki’s eyes remain staring outside and you wonder for a moment if he’d heard you. “I’m fine.” He says finally. 

“I doubt that.” 

Loki’s reply is a perturbed frown in your direction.

“Look, I don’t expect you to talk to me. But I’m guessing some shit went down or else you wouldn’t be sitting here sipping espresso and looking like you’re about to pass out.”

“Some shit indeed.” He bites out deprecatingly. 

“Do you at least have a place to stay?”

“I’ll find one easy enough.” 

“Not right now you won’t. It’s move in weekend for the colleges around here. Plus all the people displaced by The Decimation. There won’t be a free hotel room in the city until at least  next week.” 

Loki curses internally. He can’t just wander around aimlessly until he passes out somewhere like a homeless person. Showing up at SHIELD’s front door asking for a room isn’t an option either, he’s still persona non grata with the organization. He doesn’t think they’re still actively hunting for him though. Loki had been told Thor was unavailable when he’d tried to reach out the day he arrived on Earth and he didn’t push, mostly out of fear of rejection. He’s momentarily consumed with agony and anguish again, thinking of his brother and his current aimlessness in this changed world. This is what he had been brought back into, a painful, useless existence. 

You watch him struggling internally and you can’t just sit idly by. “If you need a place to crash, Sunny and I live a few blocks over with our friend Chelsi. We had another roommate but she graduated and we haven’t found a new one yet. You’d have a bed and a safe place to stay until you find somewhere else to go.” 

Loki looks at you then, meeting your eyes and it makes your breath catch in your throat. He makes a hum sound that isn’t a no and it spurs you on. “I know I’m a stranger but you probably don’t have many friends in the city and I really just want to help. Take your time deciding, we have books over there to be borrowed if you want to just hang out and read for a bit. My shift ends in two hours and….”

Loki cuts you off with a wave of his hand. “Stop talking for a minute, will you.” He knows he’s in a tough spot and you have managed to both intrigue and amuse him in the short time since he met you. It’s entirely possible you’re being genuine and want to help but you could also be an assassin. He can't be too careful and he has to be certain. Taking your hands in his, he stares into your eyes and lets his seidr flow through him into you. You feel a sight rush, like when you stand up too fast and your blood pressure drops, and you hold on tightly to his cold hands. Loki searches quickly through your memories and thoughts, digging deep down to the core of your being until he’s satisfied he’s seen enough. There are things buried deep he knows you probably won’t appreciate him seeing but he can be discreet. 

Loki holds on to your hands just a moment longer than he needs to, letting your memories wash over him. You at five, running around the playground with your friends and inviting a sad looking little blonde girl to join you. You at ten, laying outside in the dark with the same little blonde girl looking much happier as you study the stars. You and the girl, recognizable as Sunny now, at fifteen when your parents died and you move your things into the guest room next to hers. You at twenty, moving into your first real apartment off campus, excited and terrified all at once. Hundreds of other memories flutter by as well, blurring together to make up your lifetime. School days and old friends, boyfriends and a few bad breakups, vacations and quiet moments spent at home. Loki is soothed by the simple ordinary memories distracting him from his own past. Regretfully he pulls his hands back, breaking the spell of the moment. 

“What did you do?” You ask in a hushed tone. You aren’t angry, just curious.

Loki swallows hard, relieved you have forgiven his intrusion. “I had to be sure you weren’t a threat.”

“You could have just asked.” You point out. 

“And you could have lied.” 

“Touché. So, what did you find?”

“Nothing of concern. I’ll take that room you offered.” 

You’re pleased he’s agreed to come home with you, hoping that you might get to know him a little while he’s there. “Okay.” You agree, unable to hold back your excited smile. “I’ll text Chelsi and give her a heads up. Sunny heard us for sure but,” you raise your voice pointedly, “she’s too damn polite to admit she was listening while she pretends to wipe down a perfectly clean counter top!” 

Sunny laughs and throws the rag down. “Mi casa es su casa, Loki.” She calls back. 

“Thank you, Sunny.” Loki calls back with an indulgent smile. He can’t help but be slightly amused by the pair of you. You’re both so young, the cheery optimism of youth still clinging to you and it's a breath of fresh air to him. He doesn’t look much older than you but he’s pushing 1,500 and after all that he’s been through he feels every single year of his age. 

“Grab a book or play on your phone or whatever until my shift is over if you want. Alex will be in at five so we can head home.” You tell him as you stand up and head back to the barista bar with Sunny. 

Loki wanders over to the bookshelf and pulls down a copy of the first book that catches his eye. Settling into a padded, dark blue velvet chair by the bookshelf, Loki loses himself in the book. He almost doesn’t hear you coming hours later when you stop over with a steaming mug of something topped with foam and sprinkled with cinnamon. “I figured you probably shouldn’t risk more espresso, god or not.” you tell him. 

“What is this?” Loki asks, accepting the warm cup from you.

“Chai tea latte. I don’t know what you like but this felt like it might be a good fit.”

“And why is that?” Loki takes a sip and waits for you to speak before he passes judgement on the taste.

You feel your cheeks heating. You won’t dare tell him your thought process in choosing the drink. Spicy but sweet, complex, an acquired taste, just like the god sitting in front of you. You swallow past the lump of nerves in your throat, “Just a guess, I guess.” 

Loki doesn’t believe your simple answer for a minute but he doesn’t push. “Well you guessed correctly. It’s good.” Loki takes a longer sip, enjoying the rush of sugar across his tongue. He would never admit to something as undignified as having a sweet tooth, but he will admit to himself that he’s enjoying the drink more than anything else he’s had since arriving back on Earth. 

“I’m glad.” you say over your shoulder, walking away to help a new customer who just walked in. 

Loki hums in appreciation, letting himself have just a few more decadent sips before his self control kicks in and he sets the cup just slightly out of reach on the table next to him.

[starker-stories]

An Accord (WIS), Chapter 2

I’m sorry I missed a day re-posting Accord. I really want to get it all back out there so I can continue on with chapter 10-13 when I hit that point. Unfortunately, I’m still sleeping off whatever hit me Monday-Wednesday while I was in the hospital. I’m pretty sure I’m back up to normal now. So let’s start this daily posting thing again.

As a bit of annoyance, I’m going to remind you that @starker-stories is formerly starkerstories, which got accidentally deleted. So if you followed me at the non-hyphenated blog, I hope you’ll make the move with me to the hyphenated one. I miss all’y’all. 

I’ll be re-creating my individual chapter posts for An Accord over here on the blog that replaces starkerstories. Until I hit the current chapter, I’ll be posting daily. They’ll have links to both tumblr and AO3 chapter links. I’m sorry if that bothers people who’ve seen this all before in the tag. I’m content to leave all my other fic as AO3 only, but this is my current favorite child, so I’m spoiling it rotten.

This fic is on a weekly update schedule. Hopefully every Friday. More chapters may appear sooner if the writing is going well. Because I have 0 self-control.

Tumblr Chapter Links: ch1, ch2, ch3, ch4, ch5, ch6, ch7, ch8, ch9, ch10, ch11, ch12, ch13 AO3 Chapter Links: ch1, ch2, ch3, ch4, ch5, ch6, ch7, ch8, ch9, ch10, ch11, ch12, ch13

Tags: Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Polyamory Negotiations, Polyamory, Cheating, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Domestic Nightmare Tony Stark, Reconciliation, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, WinterIronSpider, Happy Ending, Clothed Sex, Domesticity, Peter Parker is legal age in the state of New York, College Student Peter Parker, Takes place about 2 years after Civil War. Closeted Character

Summary: “Oh. My. God. Old man stereo.” Peter disentangled himself from Tony’s hold. “Feed me.” Bucky started to rise. “Sit down, Bucky. I didn’t say cook. I told him to feed me. Feed US.” ——————————————————————————————

Chapter 2:  The pass-code to the penthouse

A movie and a half later, Tony sat on the other end of the sofa from Bucky. “Taken care of. Tomorrow you’ll meet Fury up at HQ.”

“It’ll take more than one day,” Bucky said quietly. “There were a lot of missions.”

Tony nodded.

“I remember all of them, Tony. I’m sorry.”

It was still hard for Tony to reconcile the raw emotion of what happened with the knowledge that the man sitting next to him was not the man in that videotape. “I know, Bucky. I’m getting there, okay?”

“Okay.”

“You’ll head upstate for a few hours a day until it’s finished. Either Fury or Maria Hill will handle the debrief personally. Whatever Ross finds out will be filtered through them, cross-checked by FRIDAY, gone over by me, and then given back to Fury to release.”

“They agreed to that?”

Tony laughed. “Of course not. It’s all going directly from Fury to Ross, with not a single stop in between.”

Bucky was quiet for a long time and they both pretended to watch the movie. “Steve underestimated you.”

“You think?”

They watched the movie until its end. “Didn’t peg you for a rom-com man, Bucky,” Tony said smiling.

“War movies kinda lost their charm.”

“Overly realistic sci-fi ones lost theirs for me,” Tony countered.

“Drama… I live enough of that lately.”

“Ditto action.”

“Romance never gets old,” Bucky said finally.

“God, are you two getting weepy over Tom Hanks movies?” Peter said, laughing and landing in Tony’s lap once he dropped his backpack by the elevator.

“You told me you liked that I’m a romantic,” Tony said, kissing Peter lightly on the lips.

“Yes, but…” Peter picked up the remote, clicked, and brought up the title. “Sleepless in Seattle?”

“Shut up, kid.”

“Shut up, kid.”

“Oh. My. God. Old man stereo.” Peter disentangled himself from Tony’s hold. “Feed me.” Bucky started to rise. “Sit down, Bucky. I didn’t say cook. I told him to feed me. Feed US.”

“Take out?”

“Take me… us… out.”

“Your house is full of food, Tony,” Bucky said. “Take your boyfriend out to dinner, I’ll be fine.”

“I said, feed US,” Peter hollered back from the bedroom.

“Thai?” Tony suggested.

“Thai.” Peter agreed, coming back, tugging on a fresh shirt.

“Chinese?” Bucky countered.

“Thai wasn’t a thing in your day?” Peter asked.

“In Thailand it was. Not in Manhattan.”

Tony laughed. “How long has it been since you were here… that you remember?”

“Uh… Forty-three? I’ve been here since, and I remember, but it wasn’t to sample the cuisine. Back in forty-three, pretty much everyone still called it Siam, even though it had changed already. But by any name, there weren’t any restaurants serving that kind of food. Chinese was the closest.”

“I doubt spending the last year, since Wakanda, on the run with Rogers broadened your horizons.”

“Not really.”

“Thai then,” Peter insisted.

“Yes, but proper Thai. We’re not dragging our new guest to that place you and May like.”

“Fine. Rich people Thai.”

“Yes, Thai. Not Thai by way of American Cantonese and whichever Korean guy they have working the kitchen today.”

Bucky smiled at the couple, arguing as they wandered back and forth from the bedroom to the living room, various bits of clothes flying while they changed.

“There.” Peter said, finally dressed in much the same as he’d started out in.

“Ready?” Tony asked Bucky.

“We can just… go out?” He’d spent all of his time, since he escaped from HYDRA, on the run. The idea of just being able to walk outside the door and go to a restaurant was unbelievable.

“Well, yeah,” Peter said.

“It can be a bit of a zoo once I’m recognized,” Tony admitted. “But that’s why I get driven even though it’s only a few blocks away, and I’ll have security there.”

“Iron Man needs security?” Bucky asked, arching an eyebrow.

“No, Iron Man does not need security,” Tony said sharply. “However Tony Stark, the fifth richest man in the world and New York celebrity needs security. Unless you fancy being mobbed by everyone with a cellphone.”

“Not fun,” Peter said sagely.

Happy was waiting with the Rolls outside Tony’s private elevator in the garage when the three of them arrived.

“Bucky, this is Happy Hogan. Head of Security for Stark Industries, but I also make him be my driver and pilot still. He tolerates it because I’m so loveable. Happy, Bucky Barnes. He’s staying with Peter and I for awhile.”

“Mr. Hogan.”

“Sergeant Barnes.”

“Can we not? It wasn’t him. It was someone else. I’m… getting over it. I appreciate my defense squad, Happy, but save the death glare for Rogers if he ever shows up.”

“Tony’s taking us out to dinner,” Peter said brightly.

“Thai?” Happy asked.

“He’s nothing if not predictable,” Tony said, helping Peter in. “There’s going to be grooves carved into the road from the tower to the Thai restaurant.”

“To match the grooves from the tower to the Italian one you insist on going to every time it’s your choice,” Peter countered.

“Italian?” Bucky asked. “You been to Gargiulo’s?”

“Fuck yes. I haven’t been in years. But it was as close as you get to Napoletano outside of Naples. Sorry kid, you’re overruled. Happy! Change of plan. Coney Island.”

“What‽” Peter screeched. “I will be as old as you two before I eat.”

“Yeah, true. Never mind the car. Make the arrangements, Hap. We’ll meet you on the helipad.”

“What the fuck?” Peter said.

“What the fuck?” Bucky said, just a little bit behind him.

“Oh, pretty and beautiful chime in,” Tony said, teasingly. “You think you’re going to dangle the possibility of me eating like my m… Oh.” Tony gasped and sat heavily down onto the backseat of the car. His eyes closed tightly shut and he began hyperventilating.

“Shit,” Bucky whispered. He backed away until he was up against the wall of the garage, as far away from Tony as he could get. He watched as Peter climbed next to Tony. Once the kid had Tony in his arms, Bucky ran up the garage ramp and kept running.

“Stop him,” Tony gasped out. “Lock the garage down before he gets out.” He flailed for Happy’s arm. “It’s not his fault,” he told Happy. Which was as far as Tony’s bravery would take him. He buried his face against Peter’s chest. “It’s not his fault,” he said quieter.

“I know, Tony. It’s okay. He’s… his twin brother.”

“Yeah.” Tony drew a shaky breath and another and another. Slow and deep. In the safety of Peter’s arms, it was easy to convince himself of that. Twin brother. That made sense. It was a gut level reaction to seeing the same face associated with…

Tony was sitting on the edge of the carseat when Bucky came back down, followed by Happy. “I’m not going to kill you.”

“You couldn’t.”

“Debatable. But I don’t want to kill you. Your dead twin brother on the other hand,” Tony said, trying at a wan smile.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky sat cross-legged on the garage floor in front of the car door’s opening.

“I forgot who you aren’t. It’s… I got caught up in the moment. My… her cousin used to work at the place. She and I ate there a lot the summer between high school and MIT. Howard was setting things up in L.A. that summer. It…” Tony closed his eyes again. “I don’t want to blame you,” he said quietly. “I know it wasn’t you.”

“She was Italian? That wasn’t in the file. Nothing was. A time. A date. A location. A mission. I didn’t know who. Not until after. Until just before Pierce had me wiped again and sent me back to Siberia for storage.” Bucky tried to hide his reaction to his memory of the procedure.

“I’m sorry,” Tony said.

Peter reached out for each of their hands. “Takeout, obviously.” He helped both men to their feet and led them to the elevator. “Chinese or pizza?”

“Chinese,” they both said.

“Fantastic.” Peter leaned his head on Tony’s shoulder and wrapped their arms together. But he kept his hand reached out to hold Bucky’s.

~~~~~

They let Peter pick the movie.

“I thought you didn’t like sci-fi?” Bucky asked.

“To be honest, the whole ‘sitting still pretending to be mentally engaged by a movie’ is new to me,” Tony offered in his defense.

“You told me you loved Star Wars.”

“Yeah. Star Wars.”

“And Star Trek.”

“That’s okay too.”

“That’s sci-fi!” Peter said emphatically.

“Technically, that’s space opera,” Tony countered.

“You don’t have to sit and watch movies with me,” Peter said, sounding actually hurt.

“I like sitting and watching movies with you. I never said I didn’t. I said it was new to me.”

“Watching movies can’t be new to you. He’s older than you and it’s not new to him,” Peter said, nodding towards Bucky.

“Baby, the last movie I sat and watched all the way through, in one sitting, was Star Wars. The summer right before I was sent to boarding school in the fall.”

“Oh.”

“It’s okay. It’s just… new. Sitting still for this long. Not… doing anything.”

“You’re watching a movie.”

“No, baby. You’re watching a movie. I’m watching you.” Tony leaned over and gave Peter a kiss. He was about to deepen it when he remembered they weren’t alone. He chuckled. “Sorry.”

Peter laughed. “I foresee us bumbling around each other saying ‘sorry’ a lot.”

“You haven’t said ‘sorry’ yet, kid,” Bucky grinned.

“Call me kid again and I’ll web your cool metal arm to the floor again.” Peter grinned back. “Then I’ll say sorry for it after.”

~~~~~

“Bucky. Hey, Bucky. It’s all right. You’re safe. You’re in New York. You’re in Stark Tower. Bucky. It’s Peter. Parker. Peter Parker. You’re okay.”

Bucky punched in the direction of the voice. His punch was… caught. His arm made an electromechanical whir. He opened his eyes.

“Hi Bucky,” Peter smiled at him, holding his metal fist in his hand. “You were having a nightmare. No, no. Don’t move yet.” Peter put Bucky’s hand down onto the bed.

“Peter?” Bucky said hoarsely.

“Yeah,” he smiled again.

“You shouldn’t wake me up from a nightmare. I could hurt you.”

“Hi, I’m Spider-Man. You can’t hurt me. You already tried to hurt me and didn’t. But I didn’t wake you up. I know better.”

“You know better?” Bucky asked, stretching his legs out, one at a time, then his right arm, moving his fingers.

“Nightmares. Kinda the pass-code to the penthouse.”

“Tony?” Peter nodded. “You?” Bucky asked, less credulously. Peter nodded again.

“Welcome to the fabulous superhero life.”

“Some of mine were from before the superhero life,” Bucky said quietly.

“Some of Tony’s. Some of mine, too. It doesn’t matter who has them worse, when they’re happening, they’re all worse.”

“You can go back to bed now, kid. Thanks. But Tony’ll be missing you.”

Peter sucked in his lips, but stayed.

“He’s not in bed?”

“When he’s avoiding nightmares, he doesn’t sleep.”

“Wish I could learn that trick,” Bucky said bitterly. He saw Peter’s expression. “No, I guess I don’t.”

“It could be three days or more before he sleeps. However long it takes his body to pass out this time around. I’ll be there when he needs me.”

“Who’s there for you, kid?”

“Tony is. When I wake up crushed by tons of concrete or seeing my uncle get murdered or clinging onto the skin of an airplane as it falls from the sky or…”

“Price of admission to the Stark Tower penthouse suite,” Bucky said, “one lifetime of nightmares.”

“Basically,” Peter said, nodding. “You okay? Tony doesn’t like being alone after. You used to have Steve…”

Bucky sighed. “Not exactly. Our relationship was…”

“Complicated?”

He chuckled. “That’s one way to put it. The thing you and Tony have? We grew up in a different time.”

“I thought you two were together?”

“We were. But not like you and Tony. It was more… casual.”

Peter furrowed his brow. “You don’t sound casual.”

“It was all it could be. We were looking for different things. The thing I wanted… it wasn’t possible back then. Then other things became a habit… then it was hard to fall out of those habits…”

“Tony had those habits. He told me what it was like. I can’t imagine it. Not really. To know you want one thing, but lie and hide and pretend to want something else. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“Fear’s where you begin, Peter,” Bucky said. He rolled onto his side and balled up the pillow under his head. “I’m glad you don’t know where to begin.”

“Tony learned to get over it.”

“He had you to make him want to get over it. A cute boyfriend’s a pretty strong motivator.”

Peter giggled and blushed. “You’re a cute boyfriend, why didn’t Steve get over it?”

“I wasn’t even sure what we were. What we could be. What I even wanted us to be anymore. I had him before the war, I lost him after I shipped out. Then I had him again for awhile during the war and lost him again. Then I had him after HYDRA. But this third time? I think ‘lost’ has finally won. Whatever we might’ve had…” Bucky shook his head. “The Steve I knew, either before or during the war, wouldn’t have made the decision he has. Whoever he’s become, he isn’t my Steve anymore.”

They fell into silence. “Go to bed, Peter. You have class and I have the first of my debriefs with Fury. Trade ya,” he said, smiling.

“Not for all the money in Tony Stark’s bank account.” Peter leaned over and gave Bucky a quick kiss on his temple. “Good night.”

~~~~~

“He had a nightmare,” Peter said, sleepily settling on a stool next to Tony’s workstation.

“Hmm.”

“He and Rogers weren’t… together together.”

“That’s good.”

“The Chitauri are attacking again.”

“Uh huh.”

“TONY!”

“What?” Tony spun on his chair to face Peter.

“Good night, FRIDAY.”

“Good night, Peter. Good night, boss.” FRIDAY powered down the holotables and the screens.

“I thought I told you not to fuck with FRIDAY’s protocols anymore.”

Peter laughed and took Tony’s hands. “Build tighter access to prevent a hardware intercept.”

“No one else but you has access to FRIDAY’s hardware.”

“Then don’t complain about me adding a ‘good night’ protocol to her.” He pulled on Tony’s hands until he was standing and following him.

“I don’t have to follow you upstairs, you know.”

“Yeah you kinda do if you want to keep your hands attached to the rest of you.”

“God, I hate you, Peter Parker.”

“Ya love me and ya know it.”

“He had a nightmare?” Tony asked, having heard the whole thing.

“Uh huh. A bad one. Don’t worry. I was there when he woke up.”

“I do love you, you know.” Tony let Peter finish leading him to their bedroom door. “I’m glad you were able to help him,” he said. “I know it’s not his fault. It doesn’t… make it hurt any less.” he added, quieter.

“It hurts him too.”

“I know. That’s why I’m glad you helped him.” Tony kissed Peter lightly before closing the door behind them and letting him finish taking him to bed.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Another set of responding to asks lol.. As usual I have them numbered and will also write out the ask in the text, especially since the screencaps are all blurry and taken at various times/compiled together badly and probably hard to read ghghhggh..... answers under the read more ~ 

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1. "Hi I don't mean to bother you at all, but I was wondering where you get your rocking horse shoes? (I think thats what they're called) I've been looking everywhere and I can't seem to find any :(( "

I don’t entirely remember, since I got them like 6 or 7 years ago.. I think maybe at some point that place ‘bodyline’ or something had some cheap ones? But I don’t see them on the site anymore, they were like $50 or $60. Now when I google it I can only find these insane like $600 ones from vivian westwood or whoever, or ones that are platform shoes but not necessarily the same type. Maybe you could find some on aliexpress or ebay or something? Usually you have to use weirdly specific search terms and look for a while, but you can often find stuff like that on those sites. Sorry I couldn’t be of more help!!! 

2. "I've been sick for over a month and my doctor tested me - everything came back fine. After some discussion it appears that my ptsd symptoms came back and the stress on my body is making me fatigued, sick and dizzy. I don't want to say that this could be similar to you situation, but if you have a therapist or someone to talk to about any stresses/your sickness, it might help relieve the pressure a bit. Good luck, I'm so sorry you feel so unwell"

Thank you for sharing! Yeah, I think stress definitely plays a part in why I feel sick so often. Currently I’m not still having the same problem I was having a few months ago when you sent this, so that’s good at least!! 

3. “Hi! Do you plan to ever have more sculptures for sale? Or would you do commissions? I haven't seen any in a while but wanted to buy one! :-O”

I have plenty that I want to sell, I guess it’s just hard for me to get set up. Since so much of the reason I procrastinate selling stuff is because I hate the stress of deciding on a price, I’ve thought for a while now that maybe I can just auction them (so I just set a base price, but people bid whatever they feel is fair and I don’t have to decide myself). But I’m just not sure of a good way to do that.. Ebay has auctions, but I don’t want random strangers buying them, I’d rather stick to just the pool of people who follow my art blog and are already familiar with my sculptures or etc. I could do them on here ?? (like, ‘reply to this post to bid, bids close 8am EST, whoever said the highest number sends the money through paypal and then I send the sculpture’ sort of thing???)   But I’m not sure if it’s legal to sell stuff through tumblr, or if there could be any other problems with doing it so ‘unofficially’ like that.. I don’t know, I have a vague idea, I’m just having trouble deciding the best way to set up something! I do want to sell some soon though, if I live through the pandemic and anything ever goes back to normal, of course (I wouldn’t want to be having to leave the house to ship stuff in the mail right now). 

As for commissions, I have actually done sculpture commissions for friends a few times, so I feel confident-ish that I’d be able to do something like that, but I also wouldn’t want to get overwhelmed since it takes a lot of work. Custom sculptures may also be more expensive, and again.. I always feel guilty and strange about pricing. I’ve thought about doing very limited sculpture commissions though (like, maybe just one at a time, first come first serve or something..?). If it seems like there’s actual interest in that sort of thing, I could definitely consider doing it in the future! 

4. " *picks up that smol blue kid and throws them across the room* "

ghgh .. the smallness is an advantage... they could just skitter back down your arm like a tiny squirrel the second you tried to pick them up.. Ythrili survival strategy is to be too small to catch in the first place 

(also forgive every sketch in this post, my screen that you can draw on broke, so I’m either drawing stuff in ms paint with a mouse, or drawing stuff on paper and coloring it in firealpaca also with a mouse ghghh.. not going to look Good)

5. "it sounds like you feel pressure to only post good content on the internet, and so you end up psyching yourself out of posting at all. Am I on the right track? "

Not necessarily, like I mentioned in the tags I think it’s more just that everything is complicated by my brain. I can’t just do something effortlessly. Whether it’s for an audience or not, I get caught up on every little detail and adding so much complexity to everything that all tasks take me longer than they take other people lol. I think I just tend to take everything very seriously?? 

Like for example, I’m often accused of ‘turning things into a discussion’ when someone was just intending to make an off-handed remark, because if someone is bringing up a topic to discuss, I end up engaging with it 100% and putting full effort into it, and it’s hard for me to be ‘’casual’’ about pretty much anything (so if someone was like ‘My day yesterday was a bit weird’ I wouldn’t be able to just respond ‘aw man, that sucks’, I would just be like ‘Weird how? what happened? what made it weird? Are you okay now? Are things still weird? Have you found a solution?’ etc. etc.). I was also bad at essays/open answer questions in school (despite usually being great at the class otherwise), because no matter how hard I tried to filter my speech and cut things out, I was always far too long-winded  and would get almost too engaged with the topic and lose the clear cut thought organization and focus that you’re supposed to have I guess. Even like, playing video games or something that’s supposed to be relaxing, I can’t just ‘jump into them’ and do whatever, usually any game I play (large ones at least, small 25 minute  point and click adventure games don’t count of course), I have 7 - 10 pages of notes, do hours of research, look up most of the main spoilers, plan out and organize exactly how I’m going to play it and this and that, etc. lol... 

So, that personality trait carries over into posting things online as well, I can’t just type something out quickly and hit ‘post’ without a second thought. Social media is hard for me because you’re supposed to use it casually, but I spend a long time re-reading drafted posts, thinking about them, etc. etc., and end up never actually getting around to posting anything. It’s not that I’m perfectionist about it and want it to be ‘good’ or appear a certain way, it’s just that my mind becomes preoccupied with things I guess.  I’m a natural information gatherer, part of my natural way of processing things is to learn everything possible before acting, and I want to make sure I’ve fully thought about everything always, and know as much as I can (so I wouldn’t want to publicly say something without giving it a lot of consideration first, or post a picture without really thinking about if I want to post it, what my reasons behind posting it are (like if I’m posting something just for a validation of a certain aspect of myself VS. genuinely because I like it, etc.), if a few months from now I’ll still like that I posted it, etc. lol.. even with like silly cat photos or something, I have to analyze it and be like ‘hmm.. will I still stand by this picture in 4 months? why am I posting it publicly vs, just keeping it privately to myself on my computer? what’s important about it?’ etc. etc. ghgjhgjh.. like.. shut up lol.)

ANYWAY, yeah, I don’t know if it’s about wanting online content to be “good”, as much as it’s just like... I take everything way too seriously and am detail-oriented, contemplative, and analytical to a fault, which means it just takes me 10x longer to do basic ‘’simple’’ things that it would for other people. Though I can still be quite quick-thinking and decisive (I don’t often waver back and forth between things too long), it’s usually because I have years of thinking about the same exact things behind me, so I already am very clear on my opinions on stuff, to a point. But when it’s new things I’m less familiar with (like playing a new game, or posting regularly online), I’m still in a phase where I guess I have to give it a lot of thought. I just process things in a different way than other people I guess? Or have some inherent inability to be brief/concise/careless? If you’ve ever read any of my worldbuilding posts (where I usually start off wanting to explain one thing but then have to derail into 400 other misc. details and explanations and it ends up being a novel), then maybe it’s more evident what I mean, where it’s just like... my natural manner of speaking is Too Much.. I guess? Even this answer is winding and rambly, and I feel like other people could have answered this ask in only a few sentences lol.. 

 If any of that makes sense? I don’t know how to describe how I am lol.. I just know it's hard to me to use social media in this ~~casual effortless~~ way most people seem to, since my brain is just inherently incapable of anything ‘’casual’’ or ‘’effortless’’ lol..  T u T ;; 

6. " Hi! I hope this isn't weird to say, I'm designing a race for my DND campaign and some of the aesthetics are a little bit inspired by some of your costumes and makeup designs. You're awesome and your art is awesome so thanks : ) "

Thanks so much, I appreciate it! It’s always cool to hear I can inspire people~ 

(I usually don’t include many compliments in these ask compilation posts, but I always try to include a few, just to let people know that even if I don’t respond to all of them I do see them, and appreciate it!) 

7.  ???

I ended up cropping out this ask and not answering because some of the content was questionable (the reason WHY/how they wanted to make the character) in a way that I didn’t feel like getting into a long thing about, but part of it was relevant to making OCs in my world, so I will just make a quick comment:

I do state that this is a closed world, so I don’t want anyone making OCs of my species or etc. at least not at this point. Once my game is finished (if ever lol), or I write a few books or something, then I feel it would be understandable if people like, made up a background story for their player character and thus maybe could have some form of OC in my world and etc.. So I may be more relaxed on this in the future as I create content that people naturally would want to engage with , but for now, I’m still a very tiny creator with a closed world and it just doesn’t feel the same as like.. making an oc based on some thing in a big TV series or something. My worldbuliding and etc. is still very personal to me. Unless we’re directly collaborating on things (like mentioned here (link) a bit), or you’re a personal friend of mine who’s gotten involved in the world with my own guidance (meaning I could tell you lore things you’d need to know to make it accurate, etc.), then I don’t feel it’s appropriate for strangers to do at this point. 

Especially since I don’t even have enough world info out for people to be able to reference (most species have half-complete guides, I’ve only ever talked about like, one continent, etc.). There are so many necessary details which I have only in my head and have never typed out, so again, idk, it’d just be weird. I’m not okay with it until I have a lot more lore published, and maybe a few actual works out there that people can reference/stories/games/basis for OCs to exist in the first place. If that makes sense? 

8. "Hey, is it ok to use your outfit posts as inspiration for a dnd character? I love them so much, you have such a unique way of combining crazy patterns and fabrics into something that gives off a good vibe”

Yes, that would be fine! Thank you for asking, and I appreciate the compliments~ Hopefully I can get back to posting that sort of thing more often lol.. I’ve gotten WAY off my routine and haven’t done many outfits lately.. aaa

9. "hi Luca! i just wanted to say i really love all of your costumes and fashions and dress ups, its all so cool and pretty and interesting. i actually wanna dress up for fun for myself, and now that i know about the bins i think i'll try to convince my mom to take me to similar places for cheap clothing pieces, since my mom is worried about how much all this costume stuff costs. anyway, please keep posting your cool and beautiful stuff! "

Thank you so much! I wish you luck with your costumes! Yeah, I think there’s a common idea in a lot of fashion communities (like with makeup, costumes, etc.) that you have to always have high quality things to look nice, and even if sometimes you can do more with a little extra money, really you can make anything look good with what you have if you just combine it right. As I’ve always been quite low income, being into fashion and stuff has be discouraging at times, that I couldn’t afford certain materials or items, but you just have to find a niche where what you’re able to do works. For example, a lot of even ‘cheap’ lolita style clothings are too expensive for me (like $30 - $50 for a dress??? then the more pricey ones can be over $100???) lol.. BUT, then stuff like mori kei, cult party kei, fantasy costumes, etc. you can do with nearly any fabric you can find, and it’s still just as fun and creative. Most of the outfits I take pictures of probably cost me no more than $1 - $10 for every single item combined. Obviously it depends on location - I have better access now that I live near a place like the bins, which I understand there may not be similar resources in small towns or etc. But even with generic thrift stores (which may not be as cheap as the bins), you can still find pretty good alternatives to all the money it costs to buy things brand new. There’s still some stuff I legit just can’t do because I don’t have access to the materials, but for the most part I can manage everything I’d like with $3 eye-shadows and 15 cent tattered curtain fabrics lol. You can still do really cool stuff on a pretty nonexistent budget!

10. “do you have any tips on growing your hair long? is it expensive to up keep? i wanna grow mine out but it grows so slow!”

Well, I know nothing about hair and am not a hair stylist or etc. so I really don’t have any tips lol??  And I think hair maintenance depends a lot on the type of hair you have, not everyone’s is the same. I assume we must have similar hair  (my natural hair is thick kind of coarse very dark brown/black hair, which is a bit wavy in some parts but mostly straight, but most of my hair currently (aside from the overgrown roots at the top) is altered because of damage from bleaching and etc., it’s more brittle. so that’s what I’ll be referencing) if you’re asking me this instead of someone else, but just know that whatever I say may not apply to you.  

Anyway, I really don’t do anything to my hair to make it grow or etc., it’s just that I’ve gone a long time without cutting it lol. I used to cut it all the time or change styles, and now I’ve kind of just left it for 5 or 6 years or so. Because of my mental illness I have trouble maintaining personal care and etc., so I do sometimes go a week or more without washing it, even though I’m trying to work that into my schedule more (luckily I don’t have stinky head, I’ve heard some people’s scalp oils and stuff can smell weird if left for too long, I have the privilege of being able to like.. skip on hygiene a lot without it severely impacting my ability to do things or etc. since it’s usually not obvious if I haven’t bathed in a week or two). 

My cat also EATS HUMAN HAIR for some reason, so I have to keep it up all the time, so that when I shed it doesn’t actually just fall loose onto the ground lol. Literally all I do to my hair is just keep it in two braids at all times and wash it with normal shampoo and conditioner occasionally, when I can. I really only think it’s gotten long because I’ve been leaving it alone and not messing with it, not really because of anything I’ve done (like I don’t use fancy products on it or etc.) And because of that, no, it’s not really expensive! It absolutely WOULD be if I were like..a normal functioning person and I regularly bleached it and dyed it and put products on it and styled it and used shampoo and conditioner every 1-3 days on it and etc. lol.. But I guess because I don’t do anything to it to maintain it, I’m not spending money on hairspray or dye or shampoo or etc.  I used to bleach it a lot and straighten it and use hairspray and stuff on it, and it seems healthier (at least on the new top parts) now that I’m just ... ignoring it basically lol. But I don’t really know what to do to make it grow faster! I’m bad at self-care, and even if I do costumes and stuff, I really am not into beauty and hair and nails and makeup and stuff, so I’m probably the wrong person to ask hghjhb.. My upkeep routine is just... eat and sleep. wash face with water daily.. do extra stuff if you can manage to despite your functioning issues, etc. I’m definitely not a Beauty Advice person, I barely brush my hair even once a week lol

11. "Maybe you should reduce the number of races if it's too overwhelming? A world can still be immersive with only a few races in it."

(sidenote - Not to be nitpicky, but I make a specific point that the groups of fantasy creatures I create are species, not ‘’races’’, even though it is a commonly used term in fantasy worldbuilding, I think it’s inaccurate/weird )

I know I don’t have to make so many different groups, but, I guess I just really want it to be a broad setting. Part of the point in creating Nanyevimi (aside from worldbuilding just being extremely fun and a hobby greatly suited to someone with my personality traits lol) is to have an established world that I can do anything within, a framework already built where it'd be super easy to just drop a character anywhere on the map and already have an idea of what their culture, background, experiences, etc. would be based on pre-existing details about that portion of the world, etc. But I also want it to be broad, and varied, where every area kind of has it’s own dynamics going on there, so if you’re in a different place, you get a different kind of story. (like in an elven alliance city, you’d be better suited to tell an adventure story centering around complicated local politics, or city life, or etc.. whereas out in some isolated mountains in the south, it’d be more suited for a mystery story about stumbling across ancient ruins, or running into a mysterious traveler, etc.) 

Which I guess doesn’t matter much, since I'm better at setting, world design, character design, planning, and details than I am at plot, so  I probably won’t actually ever do anything with it (god forbid I tried to write a book or something with my utter inability to be concise/brief in any imaginable way). I can craft settings/characters/history/world-details all day endlessly, never losing inspiration or etc, but my weak point is actually telling stories within those settings and formulating a solid plan, organizing plot structures long term and etc.. Setting up everything for something to happen/creating a place where many interesting premises could occur is fine, but then actually thinking of how those things should OCCUR, or how the set up should play out, is where I get kind of lost. I guess the ideal at some point would be to have people working with me, helping when writing stories in my world/outlining games/etc, to add more cohesion/structure and reign in the unfocused stream of ideas,  but that’s very unlikely since I don’t have any close friends that are good at organizing or plotting either, etc. BUT anyway, even if I can’t ever manage to do anything with it, the whole “having a setting I can use for anything I want if anything ever comes up, which is already established and thus makes it much easier to formulate ideas because all the background work is already done for myself” thing is at least a nice goal.. in concept...theoretically lol..  

And, it’s not really too overwhelming, I think the overwhelming part is actually just formatting and producing those ideas in a consumable form. It’s not hard for me to keep track of 20 different groups and make backgrounds and every imaginable detail for them, but it IS hard to actually take all that information that exists in my head, type it out as a worldbuilding post, format and organize it, draw pictures to go with it, etc. If I could just post long stream of consciousness style 300,000 word long posts with no paragraph breaks, 4000 typos, barely any punctuation, etc., then I’d have A LOT more world-building info publicly available (since that’s what all the initial documents on my computer look like lol), but that’s just so inaccessible it’d be pointless to have public in the first place. The hard part isn’t really coming up with or managing the information, it’s just... organizing it all, and finding a way to share it. 

12. "oh PLEASE tell me what boing peach beverage the elf looks like"

a quick sketch of them.. mysterious peach (and other produce) salesman   

13. "fun question: what are ur fashion pet-peeves?"

Well, basically none because I hate when people are rigid over Fashion Rules or etc. Like, people who take pictures of others in public because they “look weird” , or who constantly trash on what people are allowed to wear, what patterns can be mixed with others, etc. etc. I get that some stuff can look kind of bad sometimes, and it’s not that I think nobody is allowed to criticize fashion trends or etc. (especially if they’re legitimately problematic, like of course someone wearing a homophobic t-shirt or doing blackface should be criticized), but I mean just like... that sort of trivial bitter criticism that doesn’t do anything but make people feel bad about the way they look or make them afraid to dress in ways they feel comfortable. Like taking a picture of someone and posting it online to make fun of them because they wore socks with sandals, or bullying 14 year olds who just started doing makeup and haven’t totally gotten their look sorted out yet, etc. etc. (ESPECIALLY since this can often intersect with classism, racism, etc. if you really examine what people mock as 'ugly' or 'unacceptable' styles, it's often stuff like men wearing dresses/makeup, women not shaving, clothing associated with poverty (like wearing “”cheap”” clothes), physical traits commonly associated with poc, making fun of people who look a certain way likely due to mental illness (like fidgeting, dirty mismatched clothing, carrying stuffed animals or comfort items in public etc.), etc. etc.

I find costumes and makeup and outfits to be a very cool and fun way to express myself. So when people are complete freaks about it and set out to just relentlessly make others feel bad for no good reason, it’s like... obnoxious... How can you take something with so much potential and limit it and close others off and turn it into this rigid hateful thing, when it should be something that everyone is able to be passionate about and appreciate?? Outside appearance isn't everything, but it's a tool of expression for so many people and can relate to who they are as a person, people should never feel uncomfortable to be who they are or look how they look just because some dumbass rich person writing for a style magazine has the gall to declare some random thing to be 'Unfashionable' despite not having a genuinely creative bone in their body, or some bigot thinks that certain things are ‘ugly’ or ‘unprofessional’ due to their own mental associations, etc.

But anyway, I guess if I had to choose a few things that I just think look kind of odd to me personally/are generally off-putting...  

--- the overdrawing lips thing when you can see the persons actual lip-line and it almost looks like they have two mouths or something? (if not done intentionally for costume makeup). It can look a little strange to me sometimes, like an optical illusion where you see multiple mouth lines at once?? idk like this?

--- freckles that are just round circles and really heavy and don’t look realistic (though again, I also realize this could just be the person’s first time drawing them on or something and I’m not  mocking for lack of skill, etc. I just mean that it’s a little strange to look at, not actually BAD though) (and it can also be intentional, like for a cartoony costume look) ---- People adopting cutesy/childlike fashion and clothing and sexualizing it or using it as part of their sex/kink stuff.. I just feel like anything associated with children should not be sexualized..? If the first thing someone thinks when seeing children's school uniforms or frilly little girl’s doll dresses or whatever is that it could be a Hot Thing then hhh... like why is your brain making those connections lol.. People can dress how they want for whatever reasons they want, but that’s always personally creeped me out a little. Similar to our culture’s obsession with looking young being ‘hot’ (like a grown man wanting someone who’s a legal adult but still “looks 16″ or etc.), where it’s like.. okay, I guess yeah outwardly you can make that choice, and maybe aren’t directly causing harm, but.. the underlying tones of it and etc. still make it very unsettling to witness lol... ---- anything appropriated obviously, as well as fetishization or bastardization of cultures, like t-shirts with Japanese writing on them Just For Aesthetic, or taking certain culturally or religiously significant symbols or etc. and adopting them as ‘just a silly fashion’ thing when you’re actually being disrespectful, etc.  ---- those shorts or whatever that go up extremely high on the hipbones always look a little weird to me lol, like they give a person funny proportions, 

(you may have to right click open image in new window and zoom to see the text, but it’s like.. the blank space makes it look kind of weird to me? Like there’s too much where there’s just nothing going on? idk. That’s just my personal preference though, obviously I tend to lean towards busy designs lol)

That’s all I can think of though, like I said, I’m really not picky or judgy about fashion since I think people should be able to do whatever they want for the most part. I’m not like a “omg stripes should NEVER be worn with plaid!!” type person or something lol. 

14. "Hey Luca! I love when you post about your world. Do you have a favorite species you've made up so far? Also, I hope you're holding up well during the crisis!"

AAaa thanks! I’m okay mostly. It’s distressing since because of my particular mental illness I already have constant paranoia and obsessions about health, so of course hearing about so much illness can be really triggering constantly and I’m preoccupied in never-ending anxiety spirals about mortality and etc. etc. etc. , but situationally, I’m just very thankful that nobody in my household has gotten sick yet and I desperately wish that will continue to be the case. *** *** *** 

(ignore the *** *** *** , this is a text version of a physical compulsion (a hand movement) that I have to do when I mention certain topics lol.. the little man in my brain that controls my obsessive compulsive disorder says I must do certain things after saying or thinking certain things,, You Know How It Is ) 

And I really love worldbuilding questions, so thank you so much!!!!! Hghgh maybe it seems weird to favor any over the others, but of course I really like the Avirre'thel. Conceptually, I think their origin story and connection to ancient elves and their abilities and etc. put them in a really unique position in the broader world (some of the only truly immortal people to exist, the only people who can still decipher ancient elven texts in a way that makes sense, etc. etc.). Since Nanyevimi (my world) is really just a setting being built so that in the future I can set things within it (games, short stories, etc.), I think I'm drawn to the aspects of it that have the most potential to make interesting characters, and there are definitely a lot of pre-established dynamics with the Avirre'thel/in Navyete (their home country) as a whole that would make it an good place to set certain things, or a good group for a main character to be from, etc.

I do really like the Jhevona as a species overall too, even if I haven't developed them as much, they also kind of stand out as having some fairly unique features that put them in an interesting position in the world (being one of the most magically capable groups that exists but that also having downsides (health issues and infertility from magic exposure, etc.), how the necessity to keep control over their magic influences their culture, being some of the only natural shape-shifters, etc.). Within that, I REALLY love the Thastanri (a subspecies of Jhevona), like their connection to dreams, the Imkasyn, being one of the last few peoples in contact with real dragons, etc. etc. There are a lot of complex things going on in their area, so there’d be a lot of potential to tell a variety of stories or have interesting characters from that group. 

AND, though it's supposed to be Unknown in the world so I won't talk about it just in case I ever write a book one day or something and need to preserve at least a FEW mysteries that I don't just outright explain in worldbuilding posts, Jhevona do have the most interesting origins of any species in my opinion. There are some things from before the timeline break sort of thing (where all recorded history was seemingly wiped and everyone had a big memory loss about 50,000 yrs ago) that people aren't aware of anymore... but Jhevona used to have a cool backstory and quite interesting function in society prior to that. There are some remnants in the genetics of the species and how their magic works (at least for certain groups) that kind of hint at how ancient Jhevona used to look and what they used to do, even though in the modern day things are very different.

15. "Top 10 songs you've been listening to lately?"

I don’t have a top 10 since I listen to everything for different reasons, and don’t have as deep a relationship with music the way some people do (like I don’t really have a favorite band or group I have a connection with that’s “gotten me through hard times”, or music I cry to/any songs that are specifically personally emotionally meaningful to me, etc., etc.), but here’s a quick playlist of a few favorite-ish things I’ve had in my head a lot recently - 

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLPmQ4SZdFFHNkgKo7nAiEMgVvLcycX5Qc

the last song on the list specifically I’ve been replaying a lot for some reason, I guess since it’s good background music as there’s no words. Particularly the part that starts around like 38 seconds in, something about that melody reminds me of something distant, in a dreamlike way. The past few days I mostly alternate between that song, Outstanding, and And The Beat Goes On  lol

16. " Do you ever sell sculptures? I really like that little fawn!"

Yeah, I hope to eventually! Like I mentioned in question number three, if I can set up some sort of way to do auctions or etc, then maybe I can sell that one! 

17 & 18 : '"aaa yay!! i missed your outfits!!!" / "can I just say love ur outfits! They're so cool and inspire me to draw my ocs with new outfits > o < and I love your cat too, please give him a big ol pat!"

Thank you!!!! more compliments posted just to show I appreciate them lol, even if I don’t publicly respond to every one~ And, the Boyes appreciate the pats.. here is them.. big babbeys... 

[isaackuo]

This is an intro to a social media project I’m working on, although I don’t think it’s of interest to most tumblr users because tumblr doesn’t really do comment threads; not exactly.

Introducing Project "Echommentary"

tl;dr - Echommentary is a multi-site writer/reader with a crosscommenting "echobot" to unify discussion threads between multiple social media sites. Since all comments are echoed to other sites, everyone participates in the same unified discussion.

= = =

ECHOMMENTARY CORE FUNCTIONALITY

With the impending end of Google+, I've looked at various social media alternatives and have decided none are a perfect fit for what I really want. So...I'm rolling my own multi-site writer/reader solution. The features of the core system will include:

1) Echobot python console app uses web scraping or API to load new posts/comments from each source, to local storage. Core functionality is to scrape from your own profile pages, but you can also scrape followed profile pages to local storage.

2) Echobot echos new posts/comments to all other sources, so all followers participate in the same comment threads (rather than separate discussions on each site).

3) Local storage means it's possible to autopost everything to a new social media site/account if desired.

4) Ability to block users via delblock or shadowblock. A delblock auto-deletes comments by a user. A shadowblock simply doesn't echo a user's comments to other sites.

Project Echommentary's primary mission is to solve the problem of interoperability between diaspora, Mastodon, Google+ (while it exists), and other social media sites. It's an open source project so others are invited to help - especially with Python code for various sources.

There are, of course, a lot of products to multipost to many different social media sites, but these are more designed for commercial publicity rather than to foster cohesive community discussion. In particular, each copy of a post on the different social media sites has its own independent comment thread. I find this frustrating, because a lot of the best ideas are developed in comment threads, and only users from the same site will see those comments. Often, I find that one discussion thread on one site will have some interesting comments, while another discussion thread on another site will have other interesting comments. I wish that they could see each others comments!

So, my core idea is a comment echobot. It will take a comment from Sam on G+, and echo it on other sites with something that looks like:

Sam @ GooglePlus: Yeah, I noticed Aunt Cass in the sassy housewives ad. Actually a kind of subtle running theme of the movie that things on the Internet are often not quite true.

This is an "echo" comment, which appears to be made by the echobot user's account, rather than the original account. Unfortunately, this has some issues. For one thing, it may be best for the echo system to be opt-in. By default, everyone is shadowblocked. Their comments are NOT forwarded to other sites. But you could use a pinned post or something to ask folks whether it's okay to add them into the "echommentary" by echoing their comments to other sites.

Another issue - blocking. Let's say Anna wants to block Hans, so she never sees any comments by Hans. The problem is that she follows Elsa, and Elsa's echobot may echo a comment made by Hans on another site. Anna follows Elsa on G+, but Hans follows Elsa on Mastodon. Anna would see a comment on G+ like:

Hans @ mastodon.social: (@ Elsa @ mastodon.social) Hey Anna, chill out, babe!

The problem? This comment is seen on G+ as made by Elsa, not Hans. So Anna can't block these comments without blocking Elsa entirely. Unfortunately, the best solution may be for Anna to ask Elsa to block Hans. Elsa could block Hans with delblocking or shadowblocking; this prevents Hans's comments from being visible to Anna via echoing.

= = =

BEYOND THE CORE

The echobot stores what it scrapes to a SQLite3 database, as well as a static HTML file tree. This file tree is considered a source just like diaspora or Mastodon, but it offers no built in way to write posts or comments. It's mostly just for troubleshooting. Nevertheless, it can be a somewhat useful tool, and you can optionally serve it up with a web server for others to browse.

Far more flexible and powerful is the SQLite3 database, which stores all posts and comments, as well as their echoes (both pending and completed). This database can be accessed and modified by other programs, such as a writer/commenter, and a "universal reader".

My own interest is in a simple blog writer. It would have very basic functionality...just bold, italic, and inline images. This way, I could compose blog entries that would be directly inserted into the SQLite3 database for transmission to all sources. In addition to the basic functionality, I'd have automatic tag addition to include my own personalized hashtags. For example, if I have #myart in the post, it would auto-add #ijkmyart. That way, diaspora users could click on #ijkmyart to see just my own "myart" posts - like a Collection.

With this simple writer, I could compose blog posts offline and then publish them when I'm ready or on a schedule. I'd still go to diaspora or somewhere to actually read and write comments. The big advantage of the writer is that it could be lean and mean - relatively simple to develop and modify.

A universal reader, however, could be a very powerful tool because it uses SQL queries. You could filter things in powerful ways, including blocking users in ways unavailable in the source systems (such as diaspora, which still lets you see comments made by a blocked user on someone else's post). You could filter followees by hashtag or content matches; you could filter out spoilers by hiding (temporarily) content matching a show you haven't caught up on yet. Stuff like that.

With a universal reader, you could define numerous "read only" sources - not your own profile pages, but followee profile pages. Maybe even blog pages also. Maybe even including RSS feeds, and such.

I feel like a universal reader/writer/commenter is a more complex project than a simple blog composer, but it's also something that a lot of people would really want. As such, it's important for me to think about the SQLite database design in a way that accommodates it from the start. In particular, it needs to understand that some sources are read/write, while other sources are read only. The user owned read/write sources are all that's needed for Echommentary's core functionality, but followed read-only sources are critical for universal reader/writer/commenter functionality.

= = =

AND BEYOND ... ?

Project Echommentary could be taken a step further to become its own independent peer-to-peer social media network, by exposing read-only SELECT functionality to a custom port. That way, echobots could directly pull posts/comments from each other's SQLite3 databases. Even with no outside sources, it could be possible to create an independent social media network somewhat similar to USENET - each node connects with a small number of trusted neighbor nodes.

One node connects to another node via an encrypted (ssh) connection, and then each node can send SELECT statements to the other side. Each node can pull new posts and comments. The reason I specify that it goes both ways, is because of the problem of NAT routers. Most users are behind NAT routers, and there's generally no way to connect to a "server" behind a NAT. But a user behind a NAT can connect to a server out there with a true permanent IP address (either standalone or behind a specifically configured router). So, only a small fraction of nodes need to be out there with permanent IP addresses.

Now, this is truly ambitious. But is it even necessary? I hope not. It's not like we desperately need yet another internet protocol "standard". But it's a potential thing to do which might be useful just in case.

= = =

TECH THOUGHTS

The core Echommentary echobot will be a simple Python console program, to make it very portable and easy to develop/run/maintain remotely. Remote troubleshooting can be assisted by running Python's built in http.server on the local storage file tree. But for most users, it will be easiest and best to simply run and maintain it locally. Using SQLite3 makes it possible for savvy users to do a lot of powerful things with the database directly. I do understand that not everyone knows SQL, though.

For the universal writer and reader, I think that a native Python program would be better than web based...but I'm not sure. I feel like it would streamline development to keep most everything Python + SQLite3. Avoiding web based client functionality means avoiding a lot of extra complexity, maybe - and also it could be more readily adapted to mobile iOS/Android versions.

= = =

So, anyone interested in contributing, or just suggesting thoughts? Concerns?

#echommentary #socialmedia #python #sqlite #diaspora

[wickedbananas]

How to Use Instagram Like a Beauty Brand

Posted by zeehj

Does your brand’s activity on its social accounts impact its search rankings? Maybe. Maybe not. But does it matter anyway?

I shouldn’t have to convince you that investing in a social media for your company is worth it; even in light of Facebook’s recent data breach, we are so reliant upon our social profiles for real human interaction that leaving them is not a real option. In fact, the below statistics from Pew Research Center’s 2018 Social Media Use Survey indicate that we’re not going to give up our social media profiles any time soon.

Humans are social creatures. It makes sense that we love being on social networking sites. We crave interaction with fellow humans. We’re also highly likely to trust the recommendations of our friends and family (Nielsen) and those recommendations often influence our purchasing decisions. We ask our loved ones for advice on where to put our dollars in myriad ways, all at different price points:

What coffee shop do you like to go to?

Which mascara is that?

What are you reading right now?

Where’d you get that tie?

What neighborhoods are you looking to move to?

What schools are you looking to send Anna to?

Yes, those same searches occur online. They also frequently occur in tandem with testimonials from the people in our lives (depending on how thorough we want or need to be).

So if you have a thing that you want to sell to a group of people and you’re still not pursuing a social strategy, I don’t understand what you’re doing. Yes, it’s 2018 and I still find myself trying to persuade clients to proactively use (the right) social networks to promote their brand.

For the sake of this piece, we’re going to focus on organic usage (read: free, not paid advertising) of Instagram. Why just Instagram? 35% of US adults say they use Instagram as of 2018, up from 28% in 2016. This was the greatest growth across top social networking sites reported by Pew Research Center. Additionally, its 35% usage puts it at the third most popular social networking platform, behind only Facebook and YouTube.

Other good news? It may be easier for brands’ posts to appear in users’ Instagram feeds than on their Facebook feeds: Facebook still wants to prioritize your family, friends and groups, while The New York Times reports that Instagram is updating its algorithm to favor newer posts rather than limit the accounts in your feed.

So should every brand have an Instagram? Maybe? But notice I’ve been primarily using the word “brand,” not “company” or “business.” That’s deliberate. Companies (only) provide customers with a service or sell a product. Brands provide customers (followers) with an identity. (If you want to dive further into this, I highly recommend this presentation by former Distiller Hannah Smith.)

The best companies are brands: they’ve got identities with which consumers align themselves. We become loyal to them. We may even use the brands we purchase from and follow as self identifiers to other people (“I’m a Joe & the Juice kind of guy, but not Starbucks,” “I never use MAC, only NARS,” “Me, shop at Banana Republic?! I only go to Everlane!”). Not every company should be on Instagram — it doesn’t make much sense for B2Bs to invest time and energy into building their company’s presence on Instagram.

Instagram is not for your consulting firm. And probably not for your SaaS company, either (but prove me wrong)!

It’s for celebrities. It’s to show off your enviable trip. It’s for fashion blogs. Sneakerheads. Memes. Art. Beauty brands. It’s really great for beauty brands. Why? Instagram is obviously great for sharing pretty photos — and if you’re a beauty company, well, it’s a no-brainer that you should have an active account. And it also has incredible built-in features to organically promote your posts, engage customers, and sell products with actual links to those products on your photos.

So, if you’re going to use Instagram, do it right. If you want to do it right, do it like a beauty brand.

First things first: Why do beauty companies’ IG posts look better?

Glossier

Onomie

Milk

Let’s get the obvious out of the way: each account features beautiful models, pretty sceneries, and cosmetics in clean packaging. That said, it’s not just the subject of the IG photos that matters: each of these IG accounts’ photos have been curated and edited together, so that their photos look cohesive when you view them in IG’s grid format. How do they do that? Let’s look at three posts from these accounts.

Glossier

Onomie

Milk

It’s hard (for me) to pick apart precisely why these photos are aesthetically pleasing — and it doesn’t help that I’m neither a photographer, nor a designer. That said, here is my rudimentary, non-designer take on why these photos look great together:

#1: Their subjects are beautiful (duh)

#2: There are limited primary focal points, and tons of negative space (though the medicine cabinet and floral arrangement photos are arguably “busy”)

#3: Their hues are complementary (pinky-pearlescent-pastels, anyone?)

There’s a lot of pink. And white. And pastels. And more pink. And then, occasionally, pops of color (think: a new violet lipstick shade).

Color schemes remain consistent across Onomie’s, Milk’s, and Glossier’s photos — these beauty brands don’t suddenly change their color palettes from one photo to the next. In fact, they are most likely implementing the same Instagram filters for each photo, or at least editing the color balances so that the photos complement each other. They are deliberately catering to Instagram’s 3x3 grid photo format (or 3x4, or 3x5, depending on your screen size). While many users do see IG posts in their “feeds” when they open the app, users are still motivated to look at IG accounts’ for a number of reasons: IG profiles are the only place where you can add hyperlinks on Instagram, and is also where accounts can pin stories for users to revisit.

But how on earth do they do it? They may have professional photographers, or graphic designers they can beg to normalize their color balances across photos. However, I don’t think that most companies necessarily need this mastery in-house in order to have an Instagram profile that looks good to mere mortals.

What I can assure you is that they plan, plan, plan out their posts in advance. In order to do this effectively, of course, you need the right tools. Here’s your starter pack of IG apps:

VSCO

Freemium phone app

Enables you to edit photos like a master — VSCO goes way beyond a small set of filters

Has its own community and image feed within the app, separate from IG

VSCO can’t post directly to IG (yet), but you can easily download any edited photo

Planoly

Freemium desktop tool and phone app

Can visualize your photos in a grid format with your other IG photos

Built-in analytics

Can schedule and post directly to IG, with captions and hashtags

Unum

Free

Offers some photo editing tools

Can drag and drop photos to plan out how they will appear alongside your other uploads, in grid format

Can post to IG, but no scheduling features

This may sound like a lot of work, and for non-designers in particular it’s pretty challenging. That said, the fruits of your labor can be used again and again. In fact, that’s precisely what these beauty brands do on IG: if they’re featuring a product (again, hello lipstick shades), they show off that product’s different colors, on different skintones. Basically, rinse and repeat with your IG photos: this repetition is great for those with sparse content calendars, and still looks great.

Okay, but they’re not popular just because of their looks, right? Why are beauty brands on IG so damn popular?

Yes, looks matter. IG is a visual platform. Sorry not sorry. And yes, we’re talking about beauty brands that have budgets to advertise their accounts and products on IG, which also contributes to their popularity. However, that’s not the whole story.

They use hashtags and photo tags.

Hashtags

Just like on Twitter (and Facebook, to a degree), hashtags are a natural way to boost exposure and get “discovered.” That’s largely because IG users can also follow hashtags, in the same manner as following a handle. And, just like on Twitter, it matters which hashtags you use. IG also allows users to add up to 30 hashtags per post — and yes, this can look spammy, but if you’re using IG like a beauty brand, you’ll separate your caption from your hashtags with periods-used-as-line-breaks or as a separate comment after you post.

So, where should you begin hunting for hashtags? Unfortunately, the Cambridge Analytica debacle has extended to Facebook’s other properties, including Instagram. It seems like one direct response to this is to limit the number of API calls we can make of IG. This means awesome services like websta.me can’t serve up the same amount of information around hashtags as they once did.

That said, Tagboard is one option for content and social media marketers to use. I like to use it to suss out hashtag intent (in answering whether this the right hashtag to use for this post). *Readers: if you’ve got tools you love to find hashtags on IG, add them in the comments below for us, please!

Otherwise, your best bet (as far as I know) is to search for hashtags directly in Instagram’s Discover area, under Tags. There, you can see how many times those hashtags have been used (what’s popular?) and then click through to see what photos have been tagged.

Photo tags

Beauty brands also take advantage of photo tagging on their posts when they can: if they are featuring a celebrity (like the magnificent Tracee Ellis Ross), they can tag her IG directly onto this post. Not only does this let Tracee (or, more likely, her social media manager) know, but depending on her settings this photo now shows up under her tagged photos on her profile — for her fans to discover.

Similarly, if you’re a business selling products and you’ve been approved for shopping on IG, you can also tag your products in your photos so that users can click through directly to their product pages. This is a no-brainer. Just do it.

They talk to their followers.

We already know that it’s best practice to engage and respond to followers on social media (within reason), and IG is no different. Onomie, Milk and Glossier all have downright spirited conversations in their photos’ comments sections by prompt fellow ‘grammers to participate in a few ways. They:

Host contests for product giveaways, which is an easy way to grow their followers on Instagram while also attracting new, potential customers.

Ask their followers questions (“which are your faves?”) or simply prompt them to react to a photo (using emojis in the comments).

Share company and product news with their followers, and also answer questions their followers pose in response to that news.

They add stories.

IG’s “Stories” feature is another great tool that Onomie, Milk, and Glossier all use. They’re like IG posts, but ephemeral (they only last 24 hours) and do not live in your main feed: users can access these stories from the top of their IG feeds, and from the account’s main icon. In some cases — especially brands selling products — these accounts may choose to “pin” evergreen stories to their IG profiles, so that users can access them beyond the 24-hour lifespan.

Stories are an excellent way to gather additional insights from followers (outside of comments) because you can run polls (with clickable elements) to collect simple data (“Should our next product help alleviate dry or oily skin?”). What’s more is that, depending on users’ notification preferences, stories automatically push notifications to followers’ phone screens. This means that even if a user is not using the app, they will be notified of new, temporary content.

If your brand (or your client) isn’t taking advantage of IG’s great marketing tools, it’s time to stop waiting and get ‘gramming. Especially if your target audiences are using the platform, there is no reason not to test out all the ways it allows you to engage its community.

Share your favorite IG tools, tips, and accounts below, so that other Moz readers can get inspired. And if you’re passionate about marketing, come join our team, and help me convince more awesome brands to take over Instagram. (JK. Kinda.)

Sign up for The Moz Top 10, a semimonthly mailer updating you on the top ten hottest pieces of SEO news, tips, and rad links uncovered by the Moz team. Think of it as your exclusive digest of stuff you don't have time to hunt down but want to read!

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[viulus]

Master List of All My Blogs and the Tags I Use For Them

So I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time, since I want to have all my stuff organized and in one place. In this you’ll find a list of all my blogs, as well as the tags I use for each blog, along with other things I feel are important (in relation to each blog, that is).  Little disclaimer: this post is really long.

Jak and Daxter Shitposting

Tags:

#jak and daxter

#jnd --Serves the same purpose as the above tag

#precursor legacy

#tpl --Serves the same purpose as the, ‘#precursor legacy’ tag

#jak 2

#jak 3

#jak x

#jak 2 spoilers

#jak 3 spoilers

#not jnd

#reblog --Self-explanatory

#shitpost

#jnd shipping --All of my shippy posts will have this tag; mostly for people who aren’t really into ship-related content so they can filter out the tag if they want

#jakiera --Kiera x Jak posts

#ashejak --Ashelin x Jak posts

#ashetorn --Torn x Ashelin posts

#daxtess --Daxter x Tess posts

#jnd quotes --Quotes that are either taken word-for-word, or paraphrased from one of the games

#veganangst rambles j&d --Literally me rambling about the series

#my jnd experiences

#jak

#daxter

#ashelin

#kiera

#tess

#baron praxis

#erol

#errol

#flock off --Posts having to do with Pecker, since I don’t want to tag any of my posts as, ‘#pecker’

#jnd discussion

#va4 announcements --Usually important news having to do with me and/or the blog itself

Ships/Pairings (Ships that are crossed out are my NOTPs):

Jaxter

Jakiera

AsheJak

Ashetorn

Daxtess

Bio:

So, I’ve been into this series for a little over 12 years at this point, and needless to say, it was literally my childhood.  When I turned seven years old, I got my first gaming system -a PlayStation 2- and the first video game I ever owned, Jak 3.

So I fell in love with the game, and I of course sought to own, and play, the whole series (when I was first playing the games, I played the third, fourth, first, and then the second game, in that order).  When I was about nine some things went down that caused me, along with my brothers, to have to move out of state to live with our grandparents, thus forcing me to leave my PS2 behind.

So for about eight years I've been waiting to play the games again, and of course, I lost my mind when I heard that they were being ported to the PS4.  They're literally the only reason I bought a PS4 to begin with! I've played all the games in the series except for Daxter and The Lost Frontier (the latter of which I'd only found out about last December, thanks to Wikipedia), but weirdly enough I couldn’t remember much of anything about the games after a year or two of not playing them (until I started playing them again in December 2017, of course!).

Currently, I’ve completed the whole trilogy, as well as X.  I'm more than open to discuss any of the three, so feel free to chat with me about them!

Sly Cooper Shitposts

Bio:

I got into the Sly series somewhat recently (July 3, 2018).  Since then, it’s been one of my favorite series, and one of the only series I play.  I don’t really have much else to add here, other than this: if you’ve never played these games, either play them or watch a let’s play (play them if you can though).  The entire trilogy can be found on Playstation Now if you have a PS4 and don’t want to hunt down a PS2 and all the games just to play them.

Ratchet & Clank Shitposting

Bio:

Like the Sly games, I got into this series pretty recently (March 26, 2018).  At the time I was looking to try out some PS2-era franchises similar to the Jak and Daxter series, which is why I initially tried these games out.  My first R&C game I played was the 2016 reboot, and while the humor, characters and all that weren’t the best, it was really fun to play and got me wanting to play the older games.  After a couple months or so I played some of the earlier games on PSN (Quest for Booty, Crack in Time, and Into the Nexus) and enjoyed them a LOT more than the reboot overall (mostly CiT though, since although I played QfB I didn’t especially care about it, and I enjoyed the intro for ItN a lot but got bored with it).

Hamilton Shitposts

Tags:

#not hamilton

Bio:

I’ve known about Hamilton since mid-2016 (thanks to a former friend of mine), but I actually kind of hated it for a while, because of said friend (let’s just say that she constantly shoved Hamilton content in my face without properly introducing me to the musical first).

It wasn’t until last December (December 2017) that I finally got interested in the musical.  My brother who lives out-of-state was visiting for the holidays, and he literally blasted Alexander Hamilton and Non-Stop in the house several times during his stay.  After listening to them a few times I actually really liked them (especially Non-Stop), so when I got some free time (sometime on 1/14/18, since of course I still remember the exact day I got into Hamilton), I decided to listen to the whole musical, and I loved it.

Now pretty much all I listen to is Hamilton.  I know I’m going to say this at the end of all these other bios, but seriously, if you want to talk to me about Hamilton, message me.

Guardians of the Galaxy Shitposting

Tags:

#not gotg --Not Guardians related, but you should probably still see what it is

Ships/Pairings (Ships that are crossed out are my NOTPs):

Starmora (My OTP)

Roquill

Drax x Mantis

Bio:

So to start off, I thought I’d just say that I’ve only ever watched the films, but I have read a tiny bit of the comics as well.

I got into the franchise in early June last year (2017) when I saw Guardians 2 with a friend, and let me tell you, I really wanted to see it, despite not caring about the series at all.  If I didn't care about the series at the time, why did I want to see the movie so badly?  Well, let's just say that I only wanted to see it for that sweet, sweet "plot" if you know what I mean. 👀   I also just needed something to distract me at the time, since I had been going through some really difficult stuff around that time (I plan on making a post about what happened at some point, so if I do, then you’ll be able to find it here).  Once it was over I fell in love with the characters, and the franchise overall, since the second film had not only far exceeded my expectations, but it also helped me cope with the bad stuff that had happened to me not too long before.

Feel free to discuss the series with me, since I’m usually more than happy to talk about it.  Thanks in advance!

Ace Attorney Shitposts

Tags:

#not aa

Favorite Characters (Characters that are crossed out are characters that I don’t like):

Apollo Justice

Bio:

I’ve been into this series for about two... actually, almost three years now! (where has all that time gone?).

My brother actually got me into this series!  I watched him play Rise From the Ashes one night (I think it was somewhere around March 2015), and I was kind of interested in trying it out after that (although I kept my mouth shut about wanting to try it, since I was really self-conscious about trying new things at the time).

I didn’t get to actually play Ace Attorney until mid-June that year, when my brother one day shoved his 3DS in my hands, telling me to play First Turnabout.  After playing through the whole case, I got obsessed, and I was also really excited, since he was going to buy the trilogy for me on our Wii (he didn’t live with us, so he couldn’t let me play the games on his DS).  I didn’t officially get into the series until July 2nd that year, which is when I started playing the trilogy on our Wii.

I completed the first game in three days, and I was obsessed with Ace Attorney for about a year and a half after that (I think that’s the longest that any obsession of mine has ever been my, “Main Obsession”).  I also had a huge overblown crush on Phoenix most of that time (which is surprising in hindsight, since I couldn’t care less about him anymore).

I’m now just a casual fan of the series, and I’m down to discuss Spirit of Justice any time (since it’s my favorite game in the series), but I don’t really care to discuss the others (not usually, anyways).  So anyways, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy my blog!

Pokémon Shitposts

Tags:

#not pkm

Favorite Pokémon (Pokémon that are crossed out are ones that I don’t like):

Vanilluxe

Incineroar

Crobat

Zweilous/Hydreigon

Gastrodon

Skorupi

Magnezone

Scolipede

Glalie

Most of the Fossil Pokémon, honestly

Rayquaza

Kyurem

Zygarde

Charizard line

Talonflame

Swampert line

Decidueye

Greninja line

Mimikyu

Bio:

I’ve been into Pokémon for as long as I can remember.  I know that I’ve been into it for at least 13 years, but I feel like I’ve liked it for much longer.

I didn’t start to really obsess over it until the age of 11, after getting Explorers of Sky for my birthday (one of the Mystery Dungeon games).  Once Gen. 5 had started, I only got more into Pokémon.  I mostly collected the cards, but I did also play a lot of Rumble Blast.  And let me just say, I was honestly so into the TCG, that it was kind of unhealthy.

I lost interest in the franchise for a little over a year, starting at the age of 13 (thanks to My Little Pony), but once I stopped liking MLP, I just went right back to obsessing over Pokémon, but with a bit less emphasis on the cards, and more on the games (Who am I kidding?  I was still immersed in the TCG world at this time!  Just, not quite as much as before).

After about a year of being addicted to Pokémon (again), I started to become more of a casual fan of the series, turning my interest towards other things (i.e., Ace Attorney and Steven Universe).

It wasn’t until I started playing Sun (a month after it released) that I started obsessing over the franchise (for the third time).  I became a casual fan again soon after finishing the game, which was somewhere in early March of 2017.

Currently, I’m just a casual fan of the series (aside from my several characters, who I’ve had around for three years at this point).  I can’t really suggest you trying to discuss Pokémon with me, since I am just a casual fan nowadays (Unless if you want to know about my characters I mentioned!).  Thanks for reading!

Miscellaneous:

Favorite generations: Five and two

Favorite types: Ice, Rock, Electric, Ground, Steel

Favorite Pokémon throughout the years (from oldest to my current favorite):

Pikachu

Drifloon

Cyndaquil

Oshawott

Dewott

Skitty

Archeops

Vanillite

Vanillish

Vanilluxe

The End

You’ve reached the end of this post; congrats!  I will be updating this as needed, so check back here as often as you feel like.  Thanks for reading, and have a nice day!

[dailynewswebsite]

How QAnon conspiracy theory memes are spreading on Facebook in the UK

Far proper memes from the US are being shared and unfold within the UK. TY Lim/Shutterstock

A headteacher in Stoke-on-Trent informed me that, alongside making certain a COVID-safe return to highschool for her pupils this September, she’s having to reassure mother and father that their youngsters is not going to be forcibly taken away and remoted in a secret location if they begin coughing at school.

The headteacher retains getting despatched a Fb submit warning mother and father to “get up” to the menace within the UK’s Coronavirus Act. “Is that this true, can you’re taking my youngster?” she is requested.

The Fb submit these mother and father had seen started going viral mid-August. It’s certainly one of a number of comparable posts seen within the UK and Australia, and follows a sample in lots of posts linked to the QAnon conspiracy concept. These usually embody a direct enchantment to oldsters, difficult the reader to do their very own analysis to “show” the veracity of the declare, a name to defend particular person rights towards large authorities, elites, or some undefined “they”.

A part of a Fb submit from August 11 that was marked as false data by Fb. by way of Fb

Regardless of being rapidly fact-checked and tagged as false, this and associated posts which use the hashtag #SaveTheChildren are nonetheless circulating and the phrase “covid act 2020 youngsters in class” nonetheless comes up as an autofill possibility for those who seek for “covid act” on Google.

Learn extra: QAnon conspiracy theories in regards to the coronavirus pandemic are a public well being menace

The facility of memes

For the previous 5 years, my analysis has checked out how strangers discuss with one another about politics on Fb. I’ve centered on 4 English constituencies – Stoke-on-Trent Central, Burton and Uttoxeter, Bristol West and Brighton Pavilion – monitoring conversations by way of public pages, posts and public data on folks’s timelines and profiles.

By means of the 2015, 2017 and 2019 UK basic elections, I noticed the elevated polarisation of these Fb conversations and with it elevated incivility, partisanship and sectarianism. I used to be struck by the rising use of memes and the way a handful of core themes made their approach from meme to perception. Through the 2019 election, I observed how memes from far proper US Fb pages have been being posted and unfold by way of folks within the UK constituencies I used to be finding out.

I just lately determined to discover how the upcoming US election may be translating into partisan concepts on Fb within the UK. I made a decision to give attention to one meme, and the person Fb customers who cared sufficient about that concern to share or remark publicly – and see the place it took me.

So, in late August, I returned to Fb after a seven-month hole and picked the meme that occurred to be on the prime of my timeline – a submit from the group Migrant Watch shared by the web page of UKIP Brighton & Hove. This was constantly probably the most energetic meme-seeders among the many constituency get together Fb teams I comply with.

The place can one meme take you? Creator offered

I’d discovered hyperlinks over the last election between the energetic seeding of anti-migrant, anti-immigration memes by UK customers and US far-right organisations and people, and so I anticipated to seek out comparable hyperlinks by way of that meme. However the meme additionally led me to profiles that appeared to belong to UK moms and grandmothers participating with QAnon conspiracy theories from the US. This follows a sample seen by different researchers on this discipline, for instance Daniel Halpern and his colleagues who discovered girls and folks with politically right-leaning views extra prone to share conspiracy theories. Different analysis has discovered that excessive political beliefs – whether or not to the far-right or far-left of the spectrum – are a predictor of perception in conspiracy theories, and that motivated reasoning leads us to imagine what we need to imagine.

So in deciding on to give attention to a meme seeded by a bunch on the political proper (or far-right, relying by yourself perspective) it ought to maybe be anticipated to see some engagement with conspiracy theories. What was uncommon, based mostly on the findings of my 2017 and 2019 analysis, was what number of girls have been sharing theories that originated with QAnon.

QAnon conspiracies

Of the 45 folks to touch upon this Migration Watch meme shared by Brighton & Hove UKIP – 27 have been girls and most, from what I may inform from their profiles, have been apparently middle-aged grandmothers. Once I checked out what different content material these girls have been sharing, I discovered memes about anti-animal cruelty, anti-Black Lives Matter protests, anti-BBC proms and content material in favour of Brexit.

A few of the girls have been additionally anxious in regards to the menace to “our” youngsters posed by paedophile rings. And on this they demonstrated the subsequent degree of political meme sharing – freely interacting with content material from each the UK and the US.

For one lady that meant sharing conspiracy theories from Mama Wolf, one of many Fb accounts circulating QAnon content material. One in all these was entitled “Epstein Islands frequent flyers” a hotch-potch of unfounded accusations linking Hilary Clinton, Oprah Winfrey, Invoice Gates, Madonna, the Queen, and different (principally black or Jewish) “elites” to the late Jeffrey Epstein, a worldwide youngster trafficking community, medicine harvested from youngsters’s blood, and secret messages coded into Trump’s press briefings on his plans to avoid wasting the kids.

I discovered one of many similar Fb customers who had shared the Migration Watch meme additionally sharing a submit calling for folks to flood the BBC’s Fb web page on August 25 with the #saveourchildren tag. “They received’t cowl youngster trafficking so we’ll carry it to them. It’s time to take this up a degree,” mentioned the meme.

Hidden radicalisation

The bubble communities we inhabit on Fb defend us from various views to our personal, whereas additionally making it simpler for views to be bolstered, enhanced – groomed even – in direction of extra radical positions.

Fb encourages swimming pools of the like-minded, whether or not by way of structure that encourages what the activist Eli Pariser’s termed “filter bubbles”, or what the psychologist Daniel Kahneman known as “cognitive ease” – our willingness to imagine concepts which can be acquainted, snug – simple – to imagine, and to keep away from concepts that may take effort to simply accept. It’s additionally attainable to sport Fb’s algorithms to govern public opinion, because the investigative work of journalists equivalent to Carole Cadwalladr and Craig Silverman has proven.

However seeing a radical meme isn’t sufficient to set off extra of the identical content material, it’s how we work together with the content material that issues to Fb. The depth of curiosity wanted to remark after which share a political thought will set off extra of the identical and, doubtlessly, take the person by way of growing ranges of radicalisation.

An individual with casually racist views can rapidly turn out to be groomed in direction of adopting extra radical views.

It may be tempting to dismiss the anti-mask protesters or teams marching to Buckingham Palace to #SaveOurChildren as just a few thousand cranks in a sea of wise folks. However we have no idea the dimensions of the iceberg – beneath every seen protester could also be 1000’s of partial believers, together with an unknown variety of folks serving to QAnon to develop.

Editor’s word: this text has been up to date after publication to supply additional context about analysis on this space.

To seek out out extra in regards to the historical past of conspiracy theories, how they unfold and the way harmful they’re, hearken to our Knowledgeable information to conspiracy theories, a collection by The Dialog’s The Anthill podcast. Pay attention right here, on Apple Podcasts or Spotify, or seek for The Anthill wherever you get your podcasts.

Sue Greenwood doesn’t work for, seek the advice of, personal shares in or obtain funding from any firm or organisation that may profit from this text, and has disclosed no related affiliations past their tutorial appointment.

from Growth News https://growthnews.in/how-qanon-conspiracy-theory-memes-are-spreading-on-facebook-in-the-uk/ via https://growthnews.in

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There’s no cursing in The Good Place... (spoilers for season 1)

This post may contain graphic and sexual language. Most of my blog does. Sorry this is way too fucking long.

I had a thought a few weeks ago about how the “no cursing” rule is used on The Good Place, and how a benign act of “appropriateness” is actually an early sign that the characters are living in a dystopian scenario.  And how--bear with me here--this reads to me as a clear analogy for dramatic flailing of fandom groups this last two years. Now, I may not make this point in the most thorough or elegant way possible, as I feel vaguely intimidated talking about a show that has such thoughtful philosophical consideration behind it, but I’m going to give it a shot. If I flub, blame the messenger not the essence of the idea.

In season 1, Eleanor and the audience are presented with a world that is supposed heaven, specifically a “neighborhood” of the good place that is specifically curated to fit its residences (in this case, Eleanor, Chidi, Tahani, Jianyu, and others). Of course, we learn right away that Eleanor believes she’s there by mistake, and one of the first rules that demonstrates her “wrongness” is that she wants to curse, and can’t.

Eleanor: “Why can't I say ‘fork’?” Chidi: “If you're trying to curse, you can't here. I guess a lot of people in this neighborhood don't like it, so it's prohibited.” Eleanor: “That's bullshirt.”

The show glosses over this pretty quickly, and it’s played for laughs for the rest of the season. It very cleverly supports the show’s season 1 misdirect: any awkward or unsettling aspect of The Good Place is excused away by the audience (and by the characters) as simply being a side-effect of Eleanor’s misplacement. Of course you can’t swear in heaven!  Swearing is for bad people, and good people wouldn’t even want to hear it. So, therefore, it doesn’t exist here.

And yet, this is not just a subtle form of personal torture for Eleanor (as she is, of course, really in The Bad Place), it’s actually a pretty grotesque form of censorship on all of the characters. Notice that Chidi doesn’t say he is particularly averse to swearing. He says “I guess a lot of people in this neighborhood don’t like it.” Although not nearly as much as others, Chidi does curse a couple times in the show, himself. So, clearly, it’s not a thing he feels particular discomfort about---so why is it censored when they’re alone?  If this were truly a heavenly place customized for each soul, then Eleanor would be able to express herself and Chidi would be able to hear it, but other people who didn’t want to hear it would simply not be subjected to the cursing. 

Instead, the neighborhood completely outlaws cursing anywhere, at any time. In the s1 premise, it’s not enough for the other citizens simply to not hear the swearing, it matters if it’s even happening anywhere in their environment, whether they themselves are witness or not.  So why am I focusing on that idea, when we know the whole thing is manufactured, and the people who made up this rule did so as a lie, just to be cruel?

Because that line of thinking is so endemic to certain parts of fandom right now. Whether it’s making a story or fanart that contains content someone morally disapproves of, or whether it’s only a simple text post or meme going around, there’s thing now where people feel like content boundaries and warnings aren’t enough. It’s not enough to acknowledge that public platforms like Tumblr are unmoderated and that venturing forth to search or browse is accepting a certain amount of risk that one might run into something that makes one uncomfortable.  

[read more below the cut]

When people are campaigning that content they disapprove of--sexually, romantically, politically, morally, paternalistically--shouldn’t exist, they’re doing what the demons of The Bad Place have done to Eleanor and Chidi. They’re saying “This offends me, so it should not exist anywhere that I can know about or ever possibly visit.” Yes, that’s fic about characters who are underage having sex. Yes, that’s fic about characters having sex in a way that doesn’t fit their canon sexuality. Yes, that’s fic about violence and torture being done to characters for brutal and bigoted reasons. Yes, that’s fic about rape, assault, and abuse. Yes, that’s fic about uncomfortable, even disgusting things. Yes, it’s fic about noncon, dubcon, bad bdsm, ABO, slavery, fetishism, power differences, incest, and unrealistic depictions of drugs or sex. It’s fanart and headcanons about those things too.

These ideas, posts, fanworks, and concepts are part of fiction and literature. They’re part of fandom too, and are in fact one of the ways that fandom has pushed the edge of creative development for decades. As they said in Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog, “We do the weird stuff.”  Now most people in fandom don’t want to be a dick and just shove things in the face of someone who isn’t interested in consuming it--the artists and writers usually want their work to be found by people who want to consume it. So various media platforms have tools or informal conventions for negotiating shared spaces: tags and ratings on AO3, for example, serve a primary service of sorting the archive and secondary service of warning people of undesired content. On tumblr, it’s most an honor thing where people typically don’t follow blogs that post stuff they know they don’t like, and if someone is going to post something controversial they usually throw up an “FYI” at the top, or put it behind a read-more tag. Those decisions are voluntary, however, and everyone who uses a site like Tumblr is doing so with the express acknowledgement that they cannot control what others post, and may in fact browse a post with content they don’t like. For emotional, personal, or political reasons. ((Note: I’m not referring to personal targeted bullying  and harassment, which may violate the TOS of particular social media sites, and is off-topic for this discussion.))

What happens when you see that post that offends you? Well, you have three primary choices. You can engage with the OP, you can ignore it, or you can hit the “block user” or “report” options. At any given time, those various options may be what you decide to do, and that’s fine. That is, pretty much, the system working. It’s not a perfect system for sure, but it’s a reasonably functioning one on sites like Tumblr that try to accommodate the needs of millions of users. (don’t worry, fandom wont stay on tumblr and twitter forever.) AO3 has similar protections in place, with the difference being that AO3 is a far more opt-in user process: there is no personal “dashboard” or “my feed” on AO3. A person has to seek out content and utilize filters, and doing that only gets the user to the basics like title, summary, and tags. To actually SEE content, the user has to willfully click into the story.

I’m describing these processes (which most of you reading this will already know) because it’s important to keep in mind scope when we’re talking about content exposure and potential resulting damage. When you use these sites (and for the most part, the whole internet), the onus is on the user to curate their experience. On Tumblr that means blocking or blacklisting what you see, and on AO3 that means not clicking the link to a story unless you’ve read and accepted the warnings and description. On Google, it means don’t search “HS History teacher Dean takes teen Castiel in the locker room” if you don’t want to read something fitting that description. Yeah, it may offend you that it exists, but that doesn’t mean that you have to engage with it to prove that it’s harmful to you.

I’ve seen a lot of discussion this last 18 months about what people “can” or “cannot” write, draw, post, or squee about. I’ve seen it in The 100 fandom, I’ve seen it in Teen Wolf fandom, I’ve seen it in Star Wars fandom, I’ve heard about it in anime/cartoon fandom, and I’ve even seen it crop up in, OF ALL THINGS, Game of Thrones fandom.  (side note: if you complain about sexual content in fic while also posting gifs of GoT or Sense8 then I personally would like to throw a pie in your stupid face.) For some people, the answer to “I don’t like that this thing exists” seems to be to aggressively rail against it, to the point of targeting the creator, harassing them, or campaigning for websites or forums to change their rules so that XYZ offensive content does not exist. They say “I don’t care if you write it, just don’t post it where I might find it.”  The idea here is that the world around us is better without XYZ being part of our creative works or discussions, and that shunning that content and those creators makes the world (the internet) a kinder, softer, more welcoming place. 

A good place. 

A place where only good things can be. Where no one is made sad, and nothing that happens here can bring discomfort to anyone. And if you want something that’s not allowed in the good place, the righteous place, then it’s you who doesn’t belong. 

To circle back, the show The Good Place has gotten more popular this season, and I couldn’t be happier. I think it’s a fascinating examination of the ambiguity of people, as well as how mental stress can be used to torture. It’s a funny show with a lot of heart, but it’s a dark show too. And one of the darkest, subtlest things the show has ever done was reach into Eleanor’s mouth and change the words she is speaking. Not to prevent actual harm, but to make sure that other people could live in a world where things they abstractly disapproved of didn’t exist at all. For that, Eleanor was denied her basic concept of self and expression. The elimination of communication like that is such a profound violation of individuality and self that it’s almost incomprehensible that any world in which that happens could be ever perceived as a “good” place. That’s not a nice neighborhood where everyone gets along and is sheltered. That’s mind control. That’s gaslighting. That’s Hell.

There are a lot of ways to handle the struggle of content filtering, and hopefully we’ll figure out new and better ways in the future to balance the needs of artists with the needs of consumers, but one way that doesn’t work is censorship. AO3 isn’t going to change its rules to prevent content you don’t like. They know where that road ends. Tumblr might someday, but I wouldn’t hold my breath waiting for it. And if they do, this whole network of fan culture will migrate to another site without those constraints. It’s already happened twice since I’ve been around. Purity wank is an old problem for fandom, but it used to be an attack from the outside. Now it’s coming from the inside too, probably because the community is so much bigger. So it’s time to really examine the discussions we hear, and sort out if silencing each other is really going to fix anything.

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How to Use Instagram Like a Beauty Brand

Does your brand’s activity on its social accounts impact its search rankings? Maybe. Maybe not. But does it matter anyway? I shouldn’t have to convince you that investing in a social media for your company is worth it; even in light of Facebook’s recent data breach, we are so reliant upon our social profiles for real human interaction that leaving them is not a real option. In fact, the below statistics from Pew Research Center’s 2018 Social Media Use Survey indicate that we’re not going to give up our social media profiles any time soon.

Humans are social creatures. It makes sense that we love being on social networking sites. We crave interaction with fellow humans. We’re also highly likely to trust the recommendations of our friends and family (Nielsen) and those recommendations often influence our purchasing decisions. We ask our loved ones for advice on where to put our dollars in myriad ways, all at different price points: What coffee shop do you like to go to? Which mascara is that? What are you reading right now? Where’d you get that tie? What neighborhoods are you looking to move to? What schools are you looking to send Anna to? Yes, those same searches occur online. They also frequently occur in tandem with testimonials from the people in our lives (depending on how thorough we want or need to be). So if you have a thing that you want to sell to a group of people and you’re still not pursuing a social strategy, I don’t understand what you’re doing. Yes, it’s 2018 and I still find myself trying to persuade clients to proactively use (the right) social networks to promote their brand. For the sake of this piece, we’re going to focus on organic usage (read: free, not paid advertising) of Instagram. Why just Instagram? 35% of US adults say they use Instagram as of 2018, up from 28% in 2016. This was the greatest growth across top social networking sites reported by Pew Research Center. Additionally, its 35% usage puts it at the third most popular social networking platform, behind only Facebook and YouTube. Other good news? It may be easier for brands’ posts to appear in users’ Instagram feeds than on their Facebook feeds: Facebook still wants to prioritize your family, friends and groups, while The New York Times reports that Instagram is updating its algorithm to favor newer posts rather than limit the accounts in your feed. So should every brand have an Instagram? Maybe? But notice I’ve been primarily using the word “brand,” not “company” or “business.” That’s deliberate. Companies (only) provide customers with a service or sell a product. Brands provide customers (followers) with an identity. (If you want to dive further into this, I highly recommend this presentation by former Distiller Hannah Smith.) The best companies are brands: they’ve got identities with which consumers align themselves. We become loyal to them. We may even use the brands we purchase from and follow as self identifiers to other people (“I’m a Joe & the Juice kind of guy, but not Starbucks,” “I never use MAC, only NARS,” “Me, shop at Banana Republic?! I only go to Everlane!”). Not every company should be on Instagram — it doesn’t make much sense for B2Bs to invest time and energy into building their company’s presence on Instagram. Instagram is not for your consulting firm. And probably not for your SaaS company, either (but prove me wrong)! It’s for celebrities. It’s to show off your enviable trip. It’s for fashion blogs. Sneakerheads. Memes. Art. Beauty brands. It’s really great for beauty brands. Why? Instagram is obviously great for sharing pretty photos — and if you’re a beauty company, well, it’s a no-brainer that you should have an active account. And it also has incredible built-in features to organically promote your posts, engage customers, and sell products with actual links to those products on your photos. So, if you’re going to use Instagram, do it right. If you want to do it right, do it like a beauty brand.

First things first: Why do beauty companies’ IG posts look better?

Glossier

Onomie

Milk Let’s get the obvious out of the way: each account features beautiful models, pretty sceneries, and cosmetics in clean packaging. That said, it’s not just the subject of the IG photos that matters: each of these IG accounts’ photos have been curated and edited together, so that their photos look cohesive when you view them in IG’s grid format. How do they do that? Let’s look at three posts from these accounts.

Glossier

Onomie

Milk It’s hard (for me) to pick apart precisely why these photos are aesthetically pleasing — and it doesn’t help that I’m neither a photographer, nor a designer. That said, here is my rudimentary, non-designer take on why these photos look great together: #1: Their subjects are beautiful (duh) #2: There are limited primary focal points, and tons of negative space (though the medicine cabinet and floral arrangement photos are arguably “busy”) #3: Their hues are complementary (pinky-pearlescent-pastels, anyone?) There’s a lot of pink. And white. And pastels. And more pink. And then, occasionally, pops of color (think: a new violet lipstick shade). Color schemes remain consistent across Onomie’s, Milk’s, and Glossier’s photos — these beauty brands don’t suddenly change their color palettes from one photo to the next. In fact, they are most likely implementing the same Instagram filters for each photo, or at least editing the color balances so that the photos complement each other. They are deliberately catering to Instagram’s 3x3 grid photo format (or 3x4, or 3x5, depending on your screen size). While many users do see IG posts in their “feeds” when they open the app, users are still motivated to look at IG accounts’ for a number of reasons: IG profiles are the only place where you can add hyperlinks on Instagram, and is also where accounts can pin stories for users to revisit. But how on earth do they do it? They may have professional photographers, or graphic designers they can beg to normalize their color balances across photos. However, I don’t think that most companies necessarily need this mastery in-house in order to have an Instagram profile that looks good to mere mortals. What I can assure you is that they plan, plan, plan out their posts in advance. In order to do this effectively, of course, you need the right tools. Here’s your starter pack of IG apps: VSCO Freemium phone app Enables you to edit photos like a master — VSCO goes way beyond a small set of filters Has its own community and image feed within the app, separate from IG VSCO can’t post directly to IG (yet), but you can easily download any edited photo Planoly Freemium desktop tool and phone app Can visualize your photos in a grid format with your other IG photos Built-in analytics Can schedule and post directly to IG, with captions and hashtags Unum Free Offers some photo editing tools Can drag and drop photos to plan out how they will appear alongside your other uploads, in grid format Can post to IG, but no scheduling features This may sound like a lot of work, and for non-designers in particular it’s pretty challenging. That said, the fruits of your labor can be used again and again. In fact, that’s precisely what these beauty brands do on IG: if they’re featuring a product (again, hello lipstick shades), they show off that product’s different colors, on different skintones. Basically, rinse and repeat with your IG photos: this repetition is great for those with sparse content calendars, and still looks great.

Okay, but they’re not popular just because of their looks, right? Why are beauty brands on IG so damn popular?

Yes, looks matter. IG is a visual platform. Sorry not sorry. And yes, we’re talking about beauty brands that have budgets to advertise their accounts and products on IG, which also contributes to their popularity. However, that’s not the whole story. They use hashtags and photo tags. Hashtags Just like on Twitter (and Facebook, to a degree), hashtags are a natural way to boost exposure and get “discovered.” That’s largely because IG users can also follow hashtags, in the same manner as following a handle. And, just like on Twitter, it matters which hashtags you use. IG also allows users to add up to 30 hashtags per post — and yes, this can look spammy, but if you’re using IG like a beauty brand, you’ll separate your caption from your hashtags with periods-used-as-line-breaks or as a separate comment after you post.

So, where should you begin hunting for hashtags? Unfortunately, the Cambridge Analytica debacle has extended to Facebook’s other properties, including Instagram. It seems like one direct response to this is to limit the number of API calls we can make of IG. This means awesome services like websta.me can’t serve up the same amount of information around hashtags as they once did. That said, Tagboard is one option for content and social media marketers to use. I like to use it to suss out hashtag intent (in answering whether this the right hashtag to use for this post). *Readers: if you’ve got tools you love to find hashtags on IG, add them in the comments below for us, please! Otherwise, your best bet (as far as I know) is to search for hashtags directly in Instagram’s Discover area, under Tags. There, you can see how many times those hashtags have been used (what’s popular?) and then click through to see what photos have been tagged.

Photo tags Beauty brands also take advantage of photo tagging on their posts when they can: if they are featuring a celebrity (like the magnificent Tracee Ellis Ross), they can tag her IG directly onto this post. Not only does this let Tracee (or, more likely, her social media manager) know, but depending on her settings this photo now shows up under her tagged photos on her profile — for her fans to discover. Similarly, if you’re a business selling products and you’ve been approved for shopping on IG, you can also tag your products in your photos so that users can click through directly to their product pages. This is a no-brainer. Just do it.

They talk to their followers. We already know that it’s best practice to engage and respond to followers on social media (within reason), and IG is no different. Onomie, Milk and Glossier all have downright spirited conversations in their photos’ comments sections by prompt fellow ‘grammers to participate in a few ways. They: Host contests for product giveaways, which is an easy way to grow their followers on Instagram while also attracting new, potential customers. Ask their followers questions (“which are your faves?”) or simply prompt them to react to a photo (using emojis in the comments). Share company and product news with their followers, and also answer questions their followers pose in response to that news.

They add stories. IG’s “Stories” feature is another great tool that Onomie, Milk, and Glossier all use. They’re like IG posts, but ephemeral (they only last 24 hours) and do not live in your main feed: users can access these stories from the top of their IG feeds, and from the account’s main icon. In some cases — especially brands selling products — these accounts may choose to “pin” evergreen stories to their IG profiles, so that users can access them beyond the 24-hour lifespan.

Stories are an excellent way to gather additional insights from followers (outside of comments) because you can run polls (with clickable elements) to collect simple data (“Should our next product help alleviate dry or oily skin?”). What’s more is that, depending on users’ notification preferences, stories automatically push notifications to followers’ phone screens. This means that even if a user is not using the app, they will be notified of new, temporary content. If your brand (or your client) isn’t taking advantage of IG’s great marketing tools, it’s time to stop waiting and get ‘gramming. Especially if your target audiences are using the platform, there is no reason not to test out all the ways it allows you to engage its community. Share your favorite IG tools, tips, and accounts below, so that other Moz readers can get inspired. And if you’re passionate about marketing, come join our team, and help me convince more awesome brands to take over Instagram. (JK. Kinda.)   Read the full article