#without any concept of my heritage

[writingwithcolor]

Author with cultural disconnect: How do I write without making it seem as if I hate my own heritage?

Anonymous asked:

I’m a white-passing Asian author, and I’ve never felt all that connected with my heritage. My current story centers on a fairy (re: fantasy-world POC) child and ends with her realizing that her parents are toxic af and her human best friend’s family takes her in. This is the perfect opportunity to sort through my own issues with my heritage and finally convince my monkey-brain that it’s okay to not know how to cook Vietnamese food or celebrate tet or speak Vietnamese… But I also realize that if I’m not careful, this could easily slip into “Hey, I hate my heritage and so should you!” So how can I stop that from happening?

Writing for yourself first, not an audience

I ask you a simple question: why put pressure on yourself to have any sort of non-offensive messaging for a story that hasn’t been drafted yet and is to convince your monkey brain it’s okay to exist as yourself?

That seems like the fastest way to stop the story from being actually cathartic and instead a performance art piece when you already feel hung up on performing as “properly” part of your culture.

As I said in Working Through Identity Issues and Other Pitfalls of Representation, not all stories you write need to be for public consumption. Especially stories you’re using for your own self-processing and therapy, because you’re trying to get a cathartic moment that is rewriting your own story.

At what point does the public need to be involved in that?

I do understand the compulsion to want to post—I have definitely posted some Questionable™ material in my drive to get validation for feeling the way I do, wanting people to witness me and say “same.” It’s a powerful urge. Sometimes it’s worked, but most of the time it’s just made me feel horrifically exposed.

But you really do not have to post in public to get any sort of validation. Set up a groupchat with friends if you want the cheerleading and witnessing—people who will know your story and give you good-faith interpretations and won’t accuse you of anything. Honestly I’d suggest setting up this groupchat anyway; as someone who just got one again after quite a few years without it, my productivity has skyrocketed from being around supportive people.

Let the monkey brain have its monkey brain moment and shut off the concept the story is for the public. Shut off the concept of performing for an unknown audience. It’s for you. Be authentic, no matter how bad it would look to outsiders. They’re not reading it. Part of getting catharsis, sometimes, is being the worst version of yourself, somewhere nobody else can see it.

Deciding to publish the work

If, after you do write it, you find that you actually do want to polish it up and put it somewhere… edit it. Rewrite it entirely if that’s what it takes. Take the story through the same drafting process every story needs to go through, ripping out the unfortunate implications as you go.

Editing can be its own form of healing, as you try to figure out what this character would need to not be hateful. As you realize, once this longform journal entry is out of your head, what was bothering you now that you can see it pinned down on a page. But you absolutely do not need to write with the intention of editing in that healing. When I’ve tried, it’s fallen flat.

The healing will come from being yourself, no public involved, and writing about your feelings in their rawest form. Anything else is extra.

There’s no point in trying to put guard rails on the drafting process, not for a deeply personal piece. And by the time that drafting process is done, you’ll likely have specific scenarios and contexts that you can ask about, and you might even have ideas on how to fix it yourself once the story has a shape to it.

This is 100% a situation where there’s no real sense in idea workshopping something in the plotting stage. You’re doing something for you. Decide if it’s for public consumption later (while acknowledging “no” is a perfectly valid answer), and only figure out how to make the story not overtly harmful if you decide to put it out into the public.

~ Leigh

[rainsfiction]

Been thinking about my Saltburn boys and how Farleigh is so obviously a Slytherin but with Oliver and Felix it could almost be any combination? Walk with me…

Slytherin Oliver and Hufflepuff Felix: Felix is a total sweetheart, a cutie patootie, the Cedric Diggory of his generation! Everyone loves him. He’s just so easy to love. Oliver is… well. He’s without a doubt the most knowledgeable student when it comes to the Dark Arts, there’s rumours that he’s a parselmouth and he moves in complete expressionless silence… Needless to say, everyone is shocked at their sudden relationship. How the two of them became close is a total mystery, and witnessing their intimacy feels like watching a legend in the making… but Felix smiles brighter now, and everyone has seen the small smiles Oliver directs at Felix, so you won’t catch anyone complaining.

OR

Ravenclaw Oliver and Gryffindor Felix: Popular, quidditch captain Felix who everyone admires and his bookworm, certified genius boyfriend Oliver. Oliver is the top student in all of his subjects, and that is a lot of subjects. He has no energy for stupidity, and enjoys studying alone… but for Felix he will always make an exception. Oliver will happily help Felix study, and the two of them can often be found in the library as Oliver re-explains concepts with all the patience in the world. Felix is a himbo at heart, but that’s okay! Who needs to think when you have the smartest boyfriend ever? Instead of stressing about school, he can focus on his future seeker career. Oliver will always be there to support him through exam season. Students are used to the spot of Ravenclaw colours in the Gryffindor stands. Oliver is always there with a book to read or an assignment to finish. “You’re my lucky charm Ollie! Who cares if you’re watching? I’m just happy with the comfort of knowing that whenever I look into the stands, you’ll always be there.”

OR

Hufflepuff Oliver and Slytherin Felix: Felix comes from a powerful pureblood family and he’s always been part of the elite. He may seem relaxed and lax a lot of the time, but he’s smarter than he looks. He’s silently top of a lot of his classes, and he won the Triwizard Tournament effortlessly. He’s charismatic and charming and Oliver being his best friend makes no sense to any of his Slytherin circles. Oliver is a soft spoken, soft hearted, Hufflepuff who’s muggle-born heritage means that he should never have been on Felix is radar. Felix is the most sought out match in pureblood society, so everyone is shocked – and Farleigh is completely unimpressed – when it looks like Felix might genuinely be courting Oliver. (All the other students don’t get why all that pureblood nonsense even matters. Sure it’s sad to realise that Felix is off the market, but have you seen him with Oliver?! Oliver’s usually so reserved, but he absolutely glows when Felix is around. Felix can be pretty cocky sometimes, but with Oliver he mellows out and he can be so soft and sweet. Oliver is so timid that he barely notices, but everyone else can see that Felix looks absolutely smitten whenever Oliver’s around. It’s the purest love story, and all that exhausting blood purity stuff pales in comparison).

OR

i could go on and on about every possible house dynamic but i’m not sure if anyone else cares so i’ll stop here for now and say to be (possibly) continued

[venusiancharisma]

Astrology Insights: Releasing Negative Ancestral Karma

This is an outtake on my original post about Ancestral Karma and I feel I could have been more in depth with my analysis, as I was still doing relational syncronicities between vedic and sidereal, but here this post will break it up for you so that you can actually conceptualize your chart whilst reviewing. <3

I appreciate your tips, they help me become more able to create free time in order to produce these posts for you all

Are you curious about astrology's insights into releasing negative ancestral karma? Delve into the intriguing realm of astrology natal charts to uncover the influence of past life karma on your present circumstances. Discover whether these karmic ties are positive or negative, unravel if you were the wrong-doer in past lives, and find guidance on how to release any adverse ancestral karma.

Understanding Ancestral Karma in Astrology

Introduction to Natal Charts (to start from the absolute basics)

The natal chart, a cornerstone of astrology, is a snapshot of the sky at the moment of your birth. It maps out the positions of the sun, moon, planets, and constellations through different astrological houses, each house representing an aspect of your life. Your natal chart is unique to you, acting as a cosmic blueprint that holds insights into your personality, tendencies, and potential life path. It's here that we can begin to understand ancestral karma—energetic patterns passed down from previous generations that can influence your current life experiences. By examining the specific placements and aspects in your natal chart, you can start to identify the imprints of those ancestral energies and begin the process of acknowledging and releasing any negative karmic patterns.

What is Ancestral Karma?

Ancestral karma refers to the concept that the energetic influence of your ancestors' actions, decisions, emotions, and experiences can be passed down through generations, impacting your own life. This form of karma is not just about heredity or genetic traits, but rather the subtle energies that are inherited and can manifest as patterns or challenges in various aspects of your life. These can include relationships, health, or even specific phobias and fears without apparent cause. Ancestral karma can be both positive, contributing to talents and beneficial predispositions, or negative, leading to recurring obstacles or difficulties. Understanding ancestral karma is about recognizing these patterns and working towards resolving any negative cycles, thus freeing yourself from the past's hold and enabling personal growth and healing.

Roles of Ancestral Karma in Past Lives

Ancestral karma is thought to play a significant role in shaping the experiences of our past lives, which in turn, influence our present. The challenges and lessons that our ancestors faced can be encoded into the energetic fabric of the family line. This means that unresolved issues, patterns of behavior, or unlearned lessons could potentially reappear in your life, inviting you to work through them. In astrology, it is believed that these karmic debts or gifts are carried over from one life to the next, potentially creating a chain that links you to your ancestral past. Understanding these roles can empower you to break cycles that no longer serve you and reinforce the positive aspects of your heritage. This process creates an opportunity for karmic healing, not only for you but possibly for your lineage both past and future.

Identifying Ancestral Karma in Your Natal Chart

Recognizing Indicators of Past Life Karma

In astrology, certain elements in your natal chart can serve as indicators of past life karma. The South Node, for instance, speaks to past life experiences and the qualities you're moving away from, while the North Node represents the qualities you're striving towards in this life. Planets in a close association with these nodes can highlight specific karmic challenges or talents you've inherited. Additionally, the 12th house in your chart is often associated with karma from past lives, revealing hidden strengths or weaknesses that may need to be addressed. Astro notes, such as repeated patterns or heavy aspects like squares and oppositions involving Saturn, can also suggest karmic lessons. By piecing together these astrology observations, you can pinpoint areas where ancestral karma might be influencing your present life and start to work on resolving these patterns.

Deciphering Positive and Negative Aspects

Astrology provides a nuanced view of our lives by revealing both positive and negative aspects within our natal chart. Positive aspects, such as trines and sextiles, can reflect the beneficial ancestral karma that enhances our abilities and brings ease to certain areas of life. These aspects can show where we may have innate talents or where we experience natural flow and support. On the flip side, challenging aspects such as squares and oppositions can indicate areas of tension, which may stem from unresolved ancestral karma. These negative aspects often highlight the lessons we need to learn and the patterns we are called to break. By consciously working with these aspects, we can transform challenges into growth opportunities, thereby improving our relationship with ourselves and those around us. It is not just about resolving difficulties but also about activating the potential within the positive placements.

Understanding Wrongdoings from Past Lives

An essential part of working with ancestral karma involves confronting and understanding wrongdoings from past lives. These are often reflected in our natal chart through challenging aspects or placements that seem to repeatedly stir up trouble in our lives. The presence of planets like Saturn or Pluto in hard aspect to personal planets, or located in the 12th house, might suggest karmic debts that are due for resolution. These astrological markers can indicate where we may have misstepped or caused harm in the past, and now face the consequences in this lifetime. By acknowledging these areas, we can begin the process of making amends, whether through direct action, changes in behavior, or spiritual practices aimed at healing. It's important to approach these insights with compassion for oneself and the understanding that karmic healing is a journey toward growth and balance.

Unlocking the Influence of Ancestral Karma on Your Current Life

How Ancestral Karma Affects Self Development

Ancestral karma can profoundly affect self-development by creating unconscious patterns that shape our behaviors and choices. These patterns, often rooted in unresolved issues from our family's past, can limit our personal growth if left unaddressed. For example, a history of financial difficulty in a family might instill a deep-seated fear of scarcity, influencing one's approach to money and abundance. Conversely, positive ancestral influences can provide a strong foundation for developing resilience and resourcefulness. By identifying and understanding these karmic influences within our natal chart, we can begin to consciously work on these areas. This may involve confronting fears, healing old wounds, and learning to trust in our capabilities. As we release the hold of negative ancestral karma, we clear the path for genuine self-development and the ability to shape our own destiny.

The Role of Ancestral Karma in Self Love

Ancestral karma can be a powerful influence on the relationship we have with ourselves, particularly in the realm of self-love. Negative ancestral karma may manifest as inherited self-critical thoughts or feelings of unworthiness, making it challenging to embrace and love oneself fully. These patterns can be deeply ingrained, often passed down through generations, and may go unrecognized without introspection. However, recognizing and understanding these patterns through the lens of your natal chart is the first step towards healing. As you work to release these karmic bonds, you create space for a more nurturing and loving relationship with yourself. This process can also reveal the strengths and virtues that have been passed down, bolstering self-esteem and fostering a profound sense of self-love. Embracing both the light and shadow aspects of your ancestry allows for a more holistic and compassionate view of oneself.

Ancestral Karma's Impact on Self Improvement

The impact of ancestral karma on self-improvement is significant, as it can both hinder and enhance our personal evolution. Negative ancestral patterns, such as a tendency towards certain destructive behaviors or thought processes, can impede our growth and lead to repetitive cycles. These might manifest as recurring challenges in relationships, career, or health that seem to resist our efforts to change. On the other hand, recognizing and tapping into the positive aspects of our inheritance can be a powerful catalyst for self-improvement. These can be traits like resilience, determination, or creativity that have been honed over generations. By confronting and resolving the negative while embracing the positive, we can overcome inherited limitations and cultivate a more empowered self. This process not only benefits us but can also shift the karmic narrative for future generations, creating a legacy of positive growth and development.

Practical Steps to Release Negative Ancestral Karma

Ascertain Healing Signs in Your Natal Chart

Identifying healing signs in your natal chart is a practical approach to releasing negative ancestral karma. These signs often come in the form of favorable aspects or placements that offer insight into your healing journey. For instance, Chiron's placement can reveal a key area for potential healing and growth, while Jupiter's aspects might point to where you can find support and expansion. Additionally, the placement of Venus can indicate pathways to finding harmony and balance, key components in overcoming karmic challenges. Paying attention to transits and progressions that activate these healing areas can also provide timing for when you might be most open to healing work. By focusing on these positive influences and working with them consciously, you can facilitate the release of negative ancestral patterns and actively engage in your karmic healing process.

Effective Ways to Neutralize Negative Karma

Neutralizing negative karma involves intentional actions that can break cycles and foster positive change. One effective method is through self-reflection and meditation, which allows you to delve into your subconscious and identify karmic patterns. Practices like journaling or therapy can help in articulating and processing these insights. Forgiveness, both of oneself and one's ancestors, is another powerful tool in neutralizing negative karma. It releases the energetic ties to the past and opens up a path for healing. Engaging in acts of kindness and service can also shift the karmic balance, as it creates positive energy that can counteract the negative. Additionally, rituals and affirmations that resonate with your beliefs can reinforce your intentions to break free from these patterns. By incorporating these practices into your daily life, you can actively work towards neutralizing negative karma and cultivating a more positive future.

Power of Positivity and Hope in Releasing Karma

Maintaining a positive outlook and embracing hope are essential when working to release negative ancestral karma. Positivity helps to elevate your energy and can transform your perspective, allowing you to see challenges as opportunities for growth rather than obstacles. Hope acts as a beacon, guiding you through the process of healing and encouraging resilience when facing deep-seated patterns. These attitudes also have a tangible effect on your mental and emotional states, which in turn can influence the karmic energy you carry and transmit. When you approach your karmic journey with a mindset of positivity and hope, you are more likely to engage in behaviors that promote healing and growth. Affirmations and visualization techniques can be used to reinforce these states of mind, fostering an environment where karmic resolution is not just possible but expected.

Healing the Soul with Astrology

Utilizing Synastry and Composite Charts

Synastry and composite charts are valuable tools in astrology that can aid in understanding and healing relationships, which is often where ancestral karma plays out strongly. Synastry charts compare the natal charts of two individuals, revealing the dynamics between them, including areas of harmony and potential conflict. These insights can help to identify karmic connections and the lessons that you can learn from each other. Composite charts, on the other hand, combine two natal charts to create a single chart that represents the relationship itself. This chart can illustrate the overall purpose of the union and the karmic implications it holds. By analyzing these charts, you can gain a deeper understanding of the karmic ties within your relationships and work toward resolving any negative patterns. This can be a profound step in your journey of soul healing and personal growth.

Astrological Observations for Self Empowerment

Astrological observations can be a powerful tool for self-empowerment by offering a deeper understanding of personal strengths, challenges, and potentials. The placements of planets, signs, and houses in your natal chart can reveal where you have natural competencies and where you might face struggles that require extra attention. For example, Mars can indicate your drive and how you assert yourself, while Jupiter can point to where you find growth and abundance. By actively working with these energies, you can harness your innate abilities and work towards overcoming any limitations. Additionally, transits and solar returns provide insights into the timing of certain life events, enabling you to make informed decisions and take control of your destiny. Embracing the guidance from astrological observations empowers you to navigate life with confidence and awareness, turning potential karmic challenges into victories of personal empowerment.

The Journey Towards Spiritual Enlightenment

The journey towards spiritual enlightenment is a deeply personal and transformative process that can be enriched with the insights from astrology. This spiritual path is about seeking a higher understanding of oneself and the universe, and astrology provides a symbolic language to interpret the soul's code. Through your natal chart, you can uncover spiritual lessons, karmic challenges, and the deeper purpose behind life events. It offers a way to align with the cosmic energies and work with them to foster spiritual growth. Practices such as meditation, ritual, and reflection can be synchronized with astrological cycles, enhancing their effectiveness and deepening your connection to the divine. As you navigate your spiritual path with the guidance of astrology, you cultivate a sense of inner peace, wisdom, and a connection to something greater than yourself, marking the essence of spiritual enlightenment.

[yourlocal-lichen]

okay now I'm curious.

context: (white) USAmericans have this tendency to take a DNA test to better understand their cultural heritage. then they make whatever result they got (50% Scots-Irish, 25% German, 12.5% French, as a common example) and say that they "are" those things. this is a common topic of conversation, sometimes people will even say something like "are there any Germans here" and they don't mean people who were born and raised German, they mean people who were told they were German by a DNA test.

now, I see this a bit from an outside perspective (my family is culturally French-American because my mother is a French immigrant), but it seems to me like they take this to a cultural level. I've heard people say things like "my family's Irish so St. Patrick's Day is very special to me" without it seeming like they know anything about the day they are celebrating. it's a cultural identity, but their familial culture is no different from their neighbors with a completely different genetic makeup.

for anyone who wants to participate, here's a poll and please please PLEASE reblog and tell me your deeper feelings about this this is something I feel strongly about for no particular reason. please say where you are from (to your comfort level) and why you chose what option, at least.

I think this is a deeply interesting conversation with many different avenues of thought (immigrants trying to hide otherness with descendents regretting that, what does cultural identity mean if not your blood and how does that intersect with this idea, the general concept of the "great American melting pot"; to name a few)!! I'm even doing a teacher thing and giving you examples PLEAAASE circulate this and tell me your thoughts no matter where in the world you come from

[monstersdownthepath]

A collection of Nascent Demon Lords (plus an extra)

(Pic source; it’s not 1 to 1 what I have in mind, but it’s close enough! and certainly eye-catching)

I’ve done daemons and sahkil, so here we have a trio of nascent demon lords. And also, as an extra treat, an especially disgusting Qlippoth Lord! These aren’t my only concepts for nascent lords, but if I put all of them in a single post then I won’t have any to post later!

As always, there’s significantly more lore for each of these horrors than I put in their little blurbs. Feel free to ask! If one or another gets enough attention, I might write a full article like I’ve done for bigger divinities.

TW for alcoholism mentions in the second entry, and body horror and major unsanitary themes in the final entry.

----

Caerbannog, the Deceptive Death Chaotic Evil Nascent Demon Lord of Aggressive Mimicry and Camouflage

One of many wicked children of Lamashtu, Caerbannog has risen above his lesser kin and maintained a hold on a small but stable kingdom of labyrinthine tunnels which link into the realms of various other Abyssal powers, which he constantly steals from. Petitioners, territory, treasure, whatever he can claim for himself without risking immediate retaliation. While this audacious behavior would get any other creature slaughtered for their impudence, Caerbannog remains under the radar of beasts such as Jezelda, Angazhan, and Zevgavizeb by sticking to a simple but fairly effective gimmick: Appearing very, very small.

Able to hide his presence to a degree that even True Sight cannot pierce his disguises, Caerbannog masquerades as harmless animals, demon larvae, or lowly creatures such as quasits to creep unseen in the lairs of his betters, taking from them what he can as part of a strange ‘game’ he plays with himself. Patron of all manner of beasts and killers whose appearance belies unholy strength and hunger, Caerbannog is overjoyed when he is found by some guardian or predator which mistakes his taken form for his true one. Exploding forth from the body of a quasit, kitten, or--his favorite--a rabbit, he becomes a whirlwind of shredding teeth and claws that can quickly dismember beasts of any size, leaving him to frolic adorably amongst the gore until he grows bored and moves on.

Domains: Animal, Chaos, Evil, Trickery Subdomains: Fur, Demon, Whimsy, Deception Favored Weapon: Claws Symbol: The head of a herbivorous animal with bloodstains around the mouth. Sacred Animals: Rabbits and kill kittens Sacred Colors: White, brown, gray

Obedience: Attack a creature that saw you as harmless or friendly. Preferably this leads to the creature’s death.  Benefit: Gain a +4 profane bonus to Disguise and Bluff checks.

Boon 1: Harmless Form Boon 2: Beast Shape II Boon 3: Veil

-----

Vodani, the Demon at the Bottom of the Bottle Chaotic Evil Nascent Demon Lord of Intoxication and Misdirected Anger

Among the most human-looking of any demon, Vodani’s sickly yellow eyes and shark-like teeth betray the truth of his heritage, forcing him to take pains to hide them when he walks among mankind. Appearing as an innocent vagrant, Vodani finds groups of beggars and paupers to infiltrate, gaining their trust and sympathy with gifts of alcohol and stories stolen from his past victims. Over time, he will learn everything he can about them and their lives, what decisions or foul luck brought them to this state, and it’s then he will begin to work to twist their innocent desires for a better life into hatred for foes real and imagined.

There are some who mistake Vodani for a benevolent figure, the Patron (or Prince) of Paupers, uniting the destitute and broken against everything that brought them low, but while his cultists may have their own ideas of revenge, Vodani himself cares little for any true justice; he whips his unwitting victims into mobs united against scapegoats and other innocents, and any long-term good he ends up doing is purely accidental. So long as something or someone is destroyed by the end of the resulting riot, he considers it a success, leaving the poor souls he deceived behind to drink themselves to death and rise again as his children to perpetuate the cycle of violence.

Domains: Chaos, Community, Evil, Trickery Subdomains: Revelry, Riot*, Demon, Espionage Favored Weapon: Improvised weapon Symbol: Two beaten flasks, tankards, or cups toasting. Sacred Animals: None Sacred Colors: Yellow, brown *Followers of Vodani can modify the Community Domain with the Riot Subdomain.

Obedience: Find one or several drunkards and spend one hour conversing with them, weaving in purposefully inflammatory statements against targets of ire, be it yours or theirs. Alternately, spend at least one hour drinking alcoholic drinks while ruminating on everyone that has ever wronged you. Many followers of Vodani perform either obedience by accident. Benefit: Three times per day as a standard action, you may cause a bottle of ale, wine, whiskey, beer, or other mundane, low-quality alcohol to appear in your hand. Each bottle contains enough for two servings. These bottles and their contents disappear after 24 hours, or if you fail to perform your Obedience, though having the drinks on-hand allows you to easily perform it.

Boon 1: Rotgut Boon 2: Malicious Spite Boon 3: Song of Discord

----

Galroscul, the Hunger Sealed in Steel Nascent Demon Lord of Cannibalism and Gluttony

In his prime, Galroscul was a terrifying figure to behold. A towering horror in the shape of an anthropomorphic boar with the scales and tail of a dragon, six unblinking eyes on either side of his head, his tusks and claws as powerful as adamantine and his stomach as bottomless as the Abyss itself. He became a Demon Lord by literally eating his way there, legends claiming he consumed an entire Abyssal layer along with every demon and demigod within it to fuel his ascension, and if the stories are anything to go by, he wasn’t nearly close to finished. He had his eye on the throne of gods, hoping that if he drank the blood of Lamashtu, he would stand alongside her and, eventually, devour her as well.

He didn’t even get anywhere close to enacting his plan before he was ambushed by the forces of Zura, lord of cannibals, and Xoveron, lord of gluttons, who both saw his existence as a threat and formed a rare union against him. They drained and consumed what they could of him, leaving him pitifully weakened and, knowing that if they slew him he would simply return to life at full strength, set into motion a plan to humiliate and imprison him with the aid of greedy mortals. On a far-off world, Galroscul has been sealed inside of a great and terrible machine by a cabal of meat-mongers hoping to make their products fiendishly addictive. He rages and starves within this machine, processing countless carcasses but unable to truly eat a single bite, reduced in power to a Nascent Demon Lord and losing more of his sanity with every passing day.

Domains: Animal, Chaos, Destruction, Evil Subdomains: Fur, Demon, Rage, Cannibalism Favored Weapon: Bite Symbol: A boar skull trapped in a metallic diamond. Sacred Animals: Boars and goats Sacred Colors: Red and brown

Obedience: Begin eating a creature while it’s still alive. Alternately, consume a limb taken from a creature within the last 24 hours. Benefit: Gain a +4 profane bonus to your AC versus bite attacks and to your CMD against grapple attempts.

Boon 1: Enemy’s Heart Boon 2: Hunger for Flesh Boon 3: Extended Hungry Pit

----

Lormlecht, the Dung-Eater Qlippoth Lord of Filth and Sepsis

There are creatures considered disgusting, vomit-inducing, or putrid, and then there is Lormlecht, whose nauseating habits put all others to shame. Once nothing but a harmless scavenger scarcely as large as a finger, the Dung-Eater has gone from vermin to hazard to a lethal danger the size of a sea serpent as it has slithered through the sewers and muck of the Abyss, feasting merrily on the leavings of these twisted civilizations and dragging unwary victims into cesspits to ferment to perfection. Many attempts to destroy the filth-eating abomination have been made by mortal and immortal alike, but on the rare occasions these attempts succeed, they’re tragically short-lived as Lormlecht reforms within the bowels of a living creature infected with Filth Fever.

Lormlecht possesses a unique relationship with the wasting disease, able to cause embryonic qlippoth (especially Chernobue) to form within the bodies of any creature infected with even a mild strain. Any minor contact with its form is capable of causing a full-blown infection, to say nothing of the horrifying fate that befalls anyone who suffers even a glancing blow from its alarmingly equine, filth-slicked teeth; such victims are infested not only with a nearly incurable variant of Filth Fever, but a menagerie of other diseases which resist magical cures and can cause an agonizing, septic death within hours. It’s quite telling that even demons consider being bitten by the Dung-Eater a gruesome and miserable fate.

Domains: Chaos, Death, Evil, Water Subdomains: Caves*, Plague, Corruption, Flotsam Favored Weapon: Club Symbol: A piece of rotted offal impaled on a stick Sacred Animals: Rats and otyughs Sacred Colors: Brown *Followers of Lormlecht can modify the Chaos or Evil Domains with the Caves Subdomain.

Obedience: Spend no more than an hour contaminating an area you expect other creatures to pass through with filth and waste. Benefit: Your body harbors Filth Fever, which does not harm or inconvenience so long as you’ve performed your Obedience within the last 7 days. Any creature which ingests your blood is exposed to the disease (DC 13 negates, as normal).

Boon 1: Mud Buddy Boon 2: Tenacious Stinking Cloud Boon 3: Plague Storm

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

levi drabble? no. 12 please <3 ooh but flip the tables, its levi saying it or dont- okay i cannot decide-

I LOVE THIS???????

also i hope i characterized him okay enough lol. i'm writing this at work in between clients soooo

come torture me with this drabble challenge!

#12: "i wish you wanted me"

Want | Canonverse Fluff Oneshot

✧ word count ➼ 1k ✧ notes ➼ canonverse, captain!reader, mutual pining, this accidentally turned into a oneshot lol

"Captain? Captain, your orders?"

The scout's voice seemed muffled. All of Levi's senses seemed muffled. His gaze was only fixated on one side of the forest, desperately trying to pick up any visual or auditory cues.

"Captain?"

Levi finally got dragged back into reality with that third prompt from his subordinate. Having been fixated on only one thing, anything discussed within the past 5 minutes had been completely disregarded.

"What?"

"Your orders? There are Titans approaching from the left and right flanks," the scout said nervously.

It wasn't like Levi to be this scatter-brained. He always knew what it was that he had to do and he most certainly never missed out on vital information that was being told directly to him. He was overly distracted and it was affecting his ability on the field.

You were currently fighting on the left flank. Another newer squad was fighting on the right. He knew which side he had to go to for reinforcements.

He desperately wanted to go to yours. He wanted to make sure you were safe. He knew it wasn't anything other than a foolish, selfish emotional whim. You were more than capable of taking care of yourself and your squad. Strategically, he had to go to the right flank to maximize their chances of survival.

After clearing out the Titans, the Survey Corps formed a small fortified camp to rest and patch up any wounded before continuing the expedition.

You were currently in front of a campfire with your cloak and uniform jacket thrown off to the side. The only thing you kept wearing was the tank top that was usually underneath your uniform. The only reason for this was to expose your right bicep, which had gotten deeply scratched during your battle fending off the Titans. You had spent the last hour having Levi patch it up after he noticed you struggling to do it on your own.

He was awkwardly quiet the entire time, as if something was deeply on his mind.

"Did your squad do any better?" you asked, breaking the silence.

He grunted. "Not really, but at least no one died."

Simply being able to come out of an expedition without anyone dying was a miracle. Although no one on your squad died either, it was primarily because you had to go in multiple times to save them yourself. It probably would've been more efficient if you went in alone.

"You should really re-evaluate your squad," Levi said bluntly.

Your eyebrows scrunched together as you scowled at him.

"Don't be so arrogant," you scolded. "Not everyone has the advantage of your bloodline."

"Tch," he responded in irritation. Every single time someone attributed his capabilities to his Ackerman heritage made him want to punch something.

"It's not that," he said, matching your tone. "My squad doesn't need me to constantly risk my own ass to save them."

You rolled your eyes.

"Well, good for you, Levi. I'm glad that you're satisfied with your subordinates," you said dryly. "Can you quit being dissatisfied with mine?"

He let your arm go and set the bandages off to the side, irritated by your unexpected commentary.

"I'm not joking around, _____. You shouldn't have to be constantly risking your life out there because of your subordinate's mistakes."

You groaned and slightly pushed him away now that he was no longer treating your arm.

"Why the hell do you even care so much?"

Deep down, you knew. Deep down, he knew. It was quite a while ago, but you both could recall a time in which you two were dancing around the concept of romantic feelings for each other.

Of course, it never progressed to anything. It wasn't appropriate and you didn't want to start a scandal. He was still your superior at the time.

Levi parted his lips to speak, but it took a few seconds for any words to come out.

"I can't stop thinking about you when you're on the field," he said quietly. "And it's a pain in the ass to not be able to focus."

You blinked at him, confused as to where he was going with his comments.

"Why?" you asked. "Am I doing something wrong? I'm not your subordinate anymore, remember?"

He exhaled in almost what seemed like a defeated fashion as he looked away.

"I just," he said with his voice barely audible, pausing as if he was unsure if he should mutter the words that were about to come out of his mouth.

"I wish you wanted me."

Your eyes widened as those deeply buried thoughts and feelings were brought to the surface. You had assumed that he had moved on. After all, it has been some time that you had been promoted to a Captain yourself, yet it was never brought up.

You looked down and shuffled a bit, adjusting your position to be a bit more comfortable.

Finally, you looked up at him, seeing that he was now glancing at you too.

"Who says I don't?" you said quietly before shooting him a small smile.

You saw a sight that you never thought you'd see.

Levi Ackerman was paralyzed. He looked like he couldn't move. He looked like even if you reached out and pushed him off the seat that he'd remain unmoving.

Levi was not expecting your response. He had continuously told himself that you weren't interested and that anything resembling a confession would be a waste of time and would only bring him shame. He wasn't expecting anything good to come out of it.

"I'd be lying if I said that I never thought about how much I want you to want me too," you said, shifting a bit closer to him, placing your hand on his.

Feeling your touch oriented him back to reality as he looked into your eyes. He didn't know how to process this. He had held onto that feeling of rejection, telling himself that he never wanted to feel that way again and that he wouldn't put himself in that position again.

He never expected anything good to come out of those words that he had muttered—but it did, giving him something new, fresh, and hopeful to hold onto.

A/N: this is the pouty face i imagine him making as he says the line ;aljf;alksdf he's so cute i can't

[velvet-vox]

My Top 10 Favourite Male Villains of all time.

"How arrogant of you to think that any of us are anything but irrelevant". -John Greer, Person of Interest (2011-2016).

There comes a moment in a blog's life where some things are just long overdue, and while the argument could be made that this happened way too early, I'd say that as long as this helps me to find my groove, I am free to experiment as much as I want.

So..... Villains.

Gotta love them. As long as I do not meet them in real life. This post is in particular about male villains since I have one dedicated to their female counterparts in the pipeline so expect that to come soon enough and for this part to be rewritten. By the way, "villain" is a generalisation, I can totally put antivillains, antagonists or more general antiheroes in this list; your definition of "Bad Guy" can vary greatly and so can mine, someone like Walter White from Breaking Bad could have made it in here. My taste is very unusual, so prepare yourself for some unexpected picks.

Also, since these are meant to be some big celebratory posts, for the occasion I'll reveal my Italian heritage and translate every line of dialogue in Italian and publish it separately with a link, so that English readers who are learning Italian can exercise.

But first, some honourable mentions:

Oropo (Wakfu): Once you see the number 2 spot for both this list and the female villains list you might notice a certain pattern regarding my personal preferences when it comes to which characters I tend to gravitate towards the most, but while we're just talking about this guy, I cannot stress enough the amount of wasted potential that lies within his concepts and execution. Really needed two seasons of 25 episodes each to explore it to their maximum.

Tai Lung (Kung Fu Panda): Really like him, but not as much as others, I'll explain it better in one of the entries of my villainesses list. Also, unironically I feel like he's too sympathetic for his own sake and the movie's.

Bill Chyper (Gravity Falls): It's been way too long since I watched Gravity Falls, I really can't give you an accurate opinion on this guy anymore.

Flintheart Glomgold (DuckTales 2017): That season 2 episode. If you know what I'm talking about, you KNOW. Also the music for that whole sequence was a banger, really driving home the deranged nature of that twist reveal.

Big Jack Horner (Puss in Boots The Last Wish): I feel like when people praise Jack for being a breath of fresh air in a stale environment, they often forget just how good of a villain he was in his own right without the larger industry wide void of truly devious antagonists that act out of pure malice.

The Wolf (Puss in Boots The Last Wish): Two villain entries from one movie? Of course it was gonna be The Last Wish, what else could it be? Honestly I don't even wanna talk about this guy, you need to experience the movie for yourself.

Rob (The Amazing World of Gumball): Everything I have to say about this guy gets talked about much better by the number 6 Spot on this list, but as it stands Rob was my first villain OTP and the guy who opened the box of Pandora for me on what an antagonist could and should be, since then my perception of villainy only widened and now I enjoy their role in a story in much different way.

And now, with that out of the way, let's finally start with the ranking of my personal favourite male villains of all time.

Major spoilers down below:

Number 10: Silco (Arcane)

This guy is the reason that brought me to specify who or what counted for this list as trying to simplify Silco into one specific group of characters is a challenge that can only end in a misunderstanding of what makes Silco such a complex and fascinating character with an amazing character arc, that ends with him not being redeemed, mind you, but allows the audience to grieve in such a way that would make a side character death jealous.

When writing an antagonistic character, Silco is my goal and high standard, and just for that he deserves all of my respect and endless praise.

Now, admittedly, Silco's arc takes a while to kick in, but it works out to his advantage by the end of it since you don't realise just how much you've grown to care for him until he's dead and you're left with the surprise.

10 out 10, the nation of Zaun would have been much better (worse) with him than with Vander.

Number 9: The Riddler (DC)

The Riddler is literally my ride or die villain, when I'm in the mood for him, he's literally my favourite antagonist ever; when I am not in the mood for him, I completely forget about his existence.

When compared to many other entries on this list, Riddler is definitely more on the pop culture side of antagonism, and when you've been around for almost a century, you tend to have many different versions of the same character written by different writers, so I wanted to highlight here my favourite versions of him:

Arkham Games: He's hilarious. He's not my ideal Riddler, but whenever he comes on screen, his whiny rat's ass voice stimulates my pheromones.

Batman The Animated Series: I've heard somewhere that this version of him is disappointing, and to that I'll say... yeah, but only when he wasn't on screen, because otherwise, he kind of slayed.

Matt Reeves The Batman: This is the version that rekindled my love for him after so long. Out of every interpretation of The Riddler throughout the years, this is the one version that treated Edward more as a character rather than an obstacle for Batman to overcome, and for that I'll be eternally grateful.

LEGO Batman The Videogame: My very first introduction to The Riddler and the Batman universe as a whole, this version has a permanent place in my heart , I love how much information and emotion you can get out of him by just looking at his mannerisms and quirks alone; unironically, being silent helps him reach that quote on quote idealised version of Riddler that I was talking about earlier.

Number 8: The Snatcher (A Hat In Time)

There are many things that can carry on a villain in a story, their evolution, stage presence, complexity, thematic contrast to their counterpart, and so on and so forth. While an antagonist can check off many of these boxes simultaneously (like the one pictured), there's one box that is almost impossible to truly nail perfectly: comedy.

You see, comedy is subjective, and when your main antagonist is also the funniest part of a given story, it becomes hard to also match a sense of gravity and menace that allows them to also be an imposing threat, even harder is to give said antagonist depth and a tragic backstory.

But somehow, out of nowhere, The Snatcher from A Hat In Time manages to simultaneously be the funniest character in his section of the game, carrie said energy throughout the whole experience even down to the DLC, simultaneously strikes the balance between being scary, wholesome, sympathetic and tragic, exude an insane amount of charisma, all while having a deeply disturbing backstory that touches on some heavy themes and re contextualises his actions into something more complicated and out of a broken man, everything I just said + he's the biggest bastard in his videogame and never repents nor does he have his actions called out.

Snatcher really has all the right cards that make a stationary character work and uses them to his maximum potential, and it works because his character arc throughout the game is more about becoming affectionate to Hat Kid than it is about redeeming himself.

Lastly, his voice actor, Luke Sizemore, aka Yungtown, really sells the performance of this devious soul eating worm and burns his catchphrases into your brain for the rest of eternity.

Fool.

Number 7: Judge Claude Frollo (Hunchback of Notre Dame)

You can never say no to a classic.

There's nothing that I could say that hasn't already been said by thousands of videos on YouTube, but I'll try anyway: you see, Frollo is the reason why we need a new term to identify certain villains that aren't "sympathetic" but still make you feel some sort of human emotion and a form of "I wish someone could give you the care you need to fix your life", I guess the term empathetic exists, but when do you really see it used?

Now, don't get me wrong, Frollo is absolutely not sympathetic in the slightest, he wants to r##e a Romani woman that's way younger than him, but you can still feel that he's very troubled about it in the Hellfire scene and has definitely a lot of unidentified issues and internalised bigotry that could be worked through, even if it's too late to work through them right now.

In general, I feel like people forget that the main reason why past Disney villains worked had to do more with their human traits juxtaposed to their malice rather than just their plain wickedness, otherwise the Horned King from the Black Cauldron would be top of the Disney villains league and that couldn't be further from the truth.

We should really strive towards writing more villains like Frollo, less omnipotent beings that end up falling flat because they don't have much thematic relevance aside from being a threat (Bill Chyper works because he represents Ego and he's used sparingly) and more average vicious individuals who use their power and influence to get what they want.

All in all, if you've seen The Hunchback of Notre Dame, then you know why this guy is here.

Number 6: The Spot (Spider-man across the Spiderverse)

"You've hit me with a bagel!" It's still the greatest villain origin story of all time. There's truly something maniacal about this reveal, like the entire universe was shattered and reality was shocked at the mere realization that while Miles was having his coming of age moment back in the first film, this guy was having his normal life completely and utterly shattered by a combination of both our heroes stepping up to do the right thing and our doofus lack of foresight and self reflection; all of this stuff is hilarious and completely made up for the film but good god they did such an amazing job tying all the elements together in an unexpected way that makes sense and parallels the journey that our protagonist faced in the first movie.

Like with Rob from The Amazing World of Gumball, and a little bit like number 2 on this list, I just really enjoy the concept of turning background characters who had no relevance whatsoever into the big bad of the story who's been there all along and the heroes (and the audience) just couldn't notice.

With The Spot in particular, there's that sense of satisfaction of turning the wasted potential of a villain who has been underestimated for literal decades and treated as a "villain of the week" (God do I love the meta narrative of this movie) into an actual competent, well written antagonist that is aware of his reputation and strives towards bettering himself and his powers.

He's also the funniest character of his movie too and the voice acting of Jason Schwartzman only accentuates his mannerisms and pettyness.

He also has the coolest usage of portals I have ever seen and his whole "There's a hole inside all of us" is simultaneously hilarious and very deep personal information that can only be understood if you put yourself into his shoes.

Number 5: Lord Shen (Kung Fu Panda)

"Happiness must be taken. And I'll take mine"

.....

What a character.

What a movie.

You cause so much pain and suffering, because you don't understand the people around you, and then those people banish you, and you can't understand why, so you start to believe that they hated you.

They never loved you, so you keep causing pain and suffering but it's not that easy anymore; the guilt starts to resurface, all those bodies keep piling up, but you can't stop because then it would have all been for nothing; so you keep chasing those dreams of grandeur because that's all you have left; the emptiness in your heart can no longer be filled by love, so you try to fill it with something else.

You try to fill it with power. You try to fill it with glory. You try to take everything else for yourself so that you can fill that cup, but it doesn't work, because that cup has no bottom.

And so you're left... with yourself.

And the damage you've done. But now it's different; you've failed. You are left with nothing. Nothing.

And so you outrage, for the last time... And then it all ends. Forever. And you've finally come to accept this, after all....... Who could ever love you?

Number 4: Spamton G Spamton (Deltarune)

You know, in retrospect, it's kind of insane what Toby Fox managed to achieve when creating Spamton.

Not only because Spamton feels like the most insane combination of ideas ever conceived, but also because Toby Fox created such a complex character with such a complicated language and personality and then not only shafted it all aside for the players to go out of their way to interact, but also made all of this in what are officially 2 or 3 cutscenes at most (4 if you consider his shop encounter as one) and only one of them being truly mandatory.

You spend so little time with Spamton, and most of that time is spent fighting him, and yet by the end of it you've become enlightened by the knowledge of him, that after a while... you forget how scary it all was.

All the memes comparing Spamton with Turbo are 100% correct and justified, Spamton truly is Turbo but better; you go through an insane rollercoaster of emotions with this character that you are left absolutely dumbfounded when it all comes to a stop and you go back to play the rest of chapter 2 normally.

I'll admit, I've considered putting Spamton in place of the Number 3 spot on this list; but then I've realised that on an objective level, the next entry totally deserves to be ranked above Spamton; plus, with at least 5 more chapters of Deltarune on our way, whose to say that one of the next gremlins won't be able to dethrone even the number 1 spot?

Drumroll for our top 3:

Nox, the Watchmaker (Wakfu)

There will never be another experience in my life as cathartic as watching the first season of Wakfu for the first time ever again.

On a later rewatch, the initial problems of the problems you've noticed throughout the season become too apparent to ignore, but the first time everything that goes from the tournament to the finale is one of the best paced arcs of television, and everything that happens when the team reaches the Sadida kingdom is just peak Wakfu.

And the king, the culprit, the crown jewel of properly paced stories and arcs is no other than the sad clockwork dilf himself: Noximilliem Coxen the Watchmaker.

Arguably, the greatest sympathetic villain of all time. There has never been another case of a character who has committed such vile, unspeakable crimes, and yet still managed to make me root for them while simultaneously not putting down the heroes.

And let's not be mistaken here, Nox is pretty evil:

Aside from the generic murder, Nox also defiled and stitched together the corpses of multiple victims and turned them into his obedient puppets in order to commit even more murder and genocide in order to achieve his goals.

Also, this is one of the funniest crimes Nox has committed: he abused his dog. It's really not that funny nor that important in the context of the show, but if you look back at it from my perspective then it's really like: Oh yeah. That happened too. Lol.

By the way, he fixes the one problem I had with Tai Lung from Kung Fu Panda, where he's too sympathetic of an antagonist for Western audiences, so the writers had to go out of their way to make him more evil than he really was and that's why in retrospect his death scene really sucked, but with Nox his defeat may actually be the best part of his entire arc and I want a One Villainous Scene video with the "20 minutes" scene.

Words alone cannot do justice to the treacherous, gut wrenching emotional rollercoaster that is experiencing his story for the first time. An hour long video essay would only serve to cover the basics and fundamentals, while for the real deal you need to watch the first season of Wakfu for yourself.

Number 2:

Bradford Buzzard (DuckTales 2017)

And now it's the perfect time to pull out my final wild card, the hole of the sink of my autism, the masterpiece of wasted potential that is Bradford Buzzard from the DuckTales remake of 2017.

When you'll also see the number 2 spot on my villainesses list, you'll come to realise that this spot is more of the "I really wish I could put this at number one but I can't because objectively he doesn't deserve it and the majority of things I love about him in canon were probably an afterthought and in fanon were never plausible to begin with."

And that's how I feel about Bradford Buzzard, an antagonist I spent more time thinking about than probably anybody else on the Earth.

The show runners were so genius for this: we are going to create an original character that will probably struggle to maintain a foot print on the franchise due to the way the Duck verse works, we'll give him an insanely cool backstory and motivation, all coupled with interesting character traits and ideology, we'll make him the ultimate foil to Scrooge McDuck that has been working with him for literal decades, we'll make him the one who has got the closest to isolating Scrooge and destroying his family, and THEN we'll turn him into a generic anime villain that shoots lasers and fumbles his own plan and loses because of insane plot armour and contrivance. Good job writers.

And now, for the one and only,

Number 1:

(Note: I specifically chose this picture to avoid spoilers)

Qilby (Wakfu)

Boy oh boy, where do I even begin with this guy, he's the first Wakfu related post I've made on this blog for a good reason, nothing can compare to the level of bastardy that this thumb sucking old fart is capable of putting you through.

If Nox is the single greatest sympathetic villain of all time, then Qilby is by far the greatest twist villain of all time, and the crazy thing is that he surprises you two times in a row, at first by revealing himself as more evil than you could ever imagine, and the second time by being more complex than you could have ever anticipated.

Let me paint you the picture: you just finished the first season of Wakfu after being drawn towards the show by the hype surrounding Nox, so you think to yourself "Oh, now there won't be any more thought provoking, well written antagonists" and you start the second season.

So far, everything is normal, even better of the first season in terms of engagement value, but you can't help but feel the lack of a Nox like figure inside of the story, but at this point, you just accept it.

Then the final six episodes roll around and OH MY GOD WHAT IS HAPPENING, HAS THE WHOLE SHOW JUST GONE INSANE? ( The answer being that it was insane from the start)

But hey.

That's just Qilby for you.

Good job, you old sad bunny man.

[talenlee]

Goblin, Vandal, Sugg

Every word you’ve ever used comes from somewhere. The structures you use to discuss ideas is informed by ideas that came before it. I’m not getting all Sapir-Worf about this (and if you don’t know what that is, you don’t have to know because it’s probably not true), but rather wanting to draw your attention to the way the world you live in is in part defined by the words you use. If you’re an English speaker, there are ways you describe food that are a byproduct of French invasion centuries ago. Words like ‘technocrat’ and ‘hyperspecialised’ are constructions that borrow from how intellectuals used to use Latin. Your swear words are almost all from the poor working class, and used to describe sex, god, or excrement, and that’s not how all swear words work in all cultures!

Your world shapes your language.

In any given fantasy setting you work on, you don’t usually have the same linguistic history to justify why the people there talk like we talk now. In fact, to be completely fair, they probably don’t talk like us at all: you have fantasy languages, across fantasy constructions. Any given phrase a character in your world says is probably not using the exact same words as we are and we’re all working with a sort of fictionalised fantasy that makes the concepts reasonably translate across.

There’s a whole treatise then about how we handle Native American names and loanwords that we italicise like etouffee.

Point is that you have words, in your world, and you can attach stories to them. You’ve probably seen me talk about Orcs and how they relate to language and stereotypes, along in my long post on the word ‘Orc’. Here’s another set of examples I like for my world of Cobrin’Seil, as they pertain to the best little evolved raccoons, the Goblins.

The word ‘Goblin’

In Cobrin’Seil, most people speak two languages. Most people who speak only one language speak Common, and Common is full of loanwords from other languages. ‘Orc’ and ‘Beast’ are well known loanwords. There is a word that has risen in prominence throughout all the common-speaking countries in less than seventy years, and the word it displaced is still even in functional and legal use.

The word is both new and old; new to common, but an old word to the language it’s from. This word is Goblin.

Goblins are by no means new. They’re one of the three great old cultures of the world, a social symbiote culture that pretty much exists in any given settlement of any size. It’s usually seen as a sign of health that a community can sustain Goblins — in the same way that communities that lack pets are probably culturally alienated from all the cultures that do keep pets — and if you encounter an enclave that lacks goblins, it’s often because that enclave is specifically for a purpose and has done proactive things to drive out Goblin presence. Goblins are a culture that’s as old as Orcs, older than Ogres and even most of what you’d consider modern-day Elves.

But the word Goblin was not a word in common language and descriptors that was used in dictionaries and education and technical words, until what are known as the Peoples Reform. Not People’s Reforms – but the legal system of the Eresh Protectorate (which tends to set precedents most of the rest of the world follows) formalised the idea of Peoples. For most cultures, this didn’t make a lot of changes, but it did peel out of the laws one of the largest and long-standing carve-outs for Goblins that eroded the idea of their own cultural identity and heritage. The word Goblin is encoded as the term Goblins use to describe Goblins.

Linguistically, Goblin is a funny word. It’s an omniterm; without modification, it serves as noun, pronoun, verb, adjective, adverb and preposition and it does so in entirely intelligible ways to those contextually familiar. The sentence ‘Goblin goblin goblin goblin goblin’ is a meaningful sentence describing a party taking care of a third party because they see the commonality they have with one another. Good luck making that make sense in a sent letter though.

Goblin is possessive; in a lot of ways it can be translated to the common term ‘us,’ with some wiggle room. It’s also a comical non-answer; guards asking a Goblin ‘what are you doing?’ will often get the answer ‘goblin,’ which in this case means something like ‘being myself and doing what I should be doing,’ which is an answer but it is also unhelpful, and you have to understand how goblins communicate to get a handle on what that might mean. Goblin language is simple but contextual and it tends to highlight that goblins are extremely prosocial. Goblin language makes very little sense without the context of who is talking and about what.

There’s a real truth to the fact that many Goblins who have taken to theatre or art will write dialogue in Goblin but stage directions in Common.

But the word is new, legally, but the people aren’t. What was the change? Well, prior to the Peoples Reforms, the term the human kingdoms used for the people known as Goblins was the term Vandal.

The Word ‘Vandal’

You can’t kidnap a Goblin.

Legally, I mean.

This isn’t because Goblins were protected under the law, no no, the laws were way too racist for that. The crime was that, wherever you transported the Goblins to, the people didn’t want Goblins there, so you were committing a crime by inflicting Goblins on them. Basically, it was considered a crime to take a Goblin from one place to another, because the place the Goblin arrived didn’t necessarily consent to the presence of a Goblin.

The term for transporting a Goblin was based on an archaic term for Goblins that operated on the assumptions that Goblins were just a problem and a pest brought into any space. They were known as Vandals, a term hypothetically meaning all nonhuman troublesome cultures including Gnolls and Bugbears, because if those people arrived in a place, they’d wreck things. Funnily enough, Gnolls and Bugbears got removed from this term over time because they would usually, if it rose to legal levels, be committing much more dire crimes, and also, guards didn’t like just bullying them at random, since they were very big and tough people by comparison to the much smaller Goblin. Over time, ‘Vandal’ came to mean ‘Goblins, and behaving like a Goblin,’ and that association meant the legal term got ensnared around it. Ultimately, dropping Goblins off in a space that did not want them was the act of Vandalism. Vandal then, was a term used to not to refer to the Goblins themselves; much funnier, instead, it was the legal term for a person who committed the crime of nonconsensual transporting of Goblins.

During the Peoples Reforms, since this law already existed, the crime of Transporting A Goblin Nonconsensually remained on the books, but Kidnapping, as defined under laws, had its historical Goblin Carve-Out. Nowadays, kidnapping a Goblin is typically treated as Vandalism (Kidnapping), because tidying up old and technically incorrect laws is a lot of a pain in the butt. This even applies when the Goblins are lawyers, who as it turns out, delight in getting non-Goblins in trouble for ‘Vandalism,’ which is a catch-all term under Eresh law for ‘general goblin-like behaviour.’ And we’ll talk more about what makes something Goblin-like in the context of Cobrin’Seil another time.

The word ‘Sugg’

But there is a word, ambiguous in meaning and origin that exists in common, that most people know and that word is ‘sugg.’ It seems to indicate a sort of laziness, a restful state. If you see a Goblin curled up on a pile of playing cards, ears out, eyes closed, you might say ‘can’t use those cards, there’s a goblin sugging on it.’ Or ‘sorry man, I’m pretty sugg.’ The word is extremely ambiguous but it has a thread throughout it of being:

Indulgently lazy

Very relaxed

Overwhelming and absolute

The thing is, nobody’s too sure what it means, and when you ask people who would know, they tell you to ask a Goblin. Goblins, after all, are where the word comes from. In fact, if you ask the right goblins in the right trail you’ll find that while Goblins use the word ‘sugg’ in the same way, they think it comes from Common. Why?

Because Goblins got the word from this thing they found in established human communities. There’d be a nice small dark box, full of paper that you could just curl up in and nest in, and on the outside of the box, there’d be a notice: SUGGEST IN BOX. So they assume the Goblin who enjoys that box the most must surely be their sugg-est Goblin. Which meant paying attention to how they all sugg, and from there, the neologism was born.

Now, non-Goblins and Goblins alike use ‘sugg’, each convinced they got it from the other.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[gwenllian-in-the-abbey]

Is there anything good (positive achievement) about the Valyrian/ghiscarian empires? I feel GRRM didn't bother giving them nuanced and interesting history beside mass slavery, rape and genocide, esp the ghiscarians they are mash up of the all the racist oriental tropes you can think of

Hi anon, this is a really good question. I think you can look at it two ways.

On the one hand, if we're analyzing the books from a literary perspective, GRRM's portrayal of the entire continent of Essos is pretty Orientalist and doesn't hold up that well. And we can blame this to some extent on GRRM being a white boomer who clearly did not think all that deeply about the stereotypes he was playing into when he created his "exotic" eastern continent. 90s fantasy was rife with this stuff (even my beloved Robin Hobb is not completely immune-- I'm looking at you, Chalcedeans), and at the time Orientalism was, much like critical race theory or decolonization, a grad school level concept, unless you ran in activist circles. You didn't have Tumblr and Twitter and TikTok and Youtube generating Discourse, you had to actively seek out different perspectives. And ex-hippie liberal white boomers often assumed that they already had the right perspectives, that they knew what traps to avoid, and so you'd get 90s SFF authors thinking they were very cleverly subverting these tropes by going, "I know, I'll have an intensely misogynistic culture of desert dwelling nomads who have harems and slaves but I'll make them white." It was pretty bleak. Luckily for all of us, fantasy has come a long way since then.

And yeah, once you see the Orientalism in ASOIAF, you can't unsee it. Lys is basically the fantasy version of the "pleasure planet" trope, the Dothraki are a stereotype of the Mongol armies without any of the many positive contributions the Molgols made, Qarth is like the Coleridge poem come to life with people riding camels with jeweled saddles and wearing tiger skins, with its women baring one breast and it's sophisticated assassin's guild, and Mereen has its pyramids. The entire continent is brimming with spices and jewels and pleasure houses and people saying "Your Magnificence." It is also a place of blood magic and dragons and Red Gods and shadowlands. It is everything exciting and "exotic," juxtaposed against what appears to most readers to be very mundane--septas and pseudocatholicism and maesters in the citadel. So yeah, it's an Orientalist's fantasy world, and the point of all this is not necessarily to cast it as evil per se, but to cast it as "Other" (and to be clear, Orientalism is harmful and GRRM deserves the criticism he gets for leaning into stereotypes). Valyria and the Valyrians are certainly included in that-- they are explicitly Other as foreign born ruling family in Westeros, and they are treated that way both in-world and by the narrative.

The question then becomes, although GRRM's depictions of Essos lean heavily and inelegantly into Orientalist tropes, why did he create these worlds the way he did? Why is Valyria an "Other" and what significance does it have to the story? And I think that some of this is GRRM's shorthand for something magical that is lost and forgotten and fading away, just like Valyria itself is in the memories of the Targaryen family. It is the Xanadu of Coleridge's Kubla Khan, not just the East viewed from the West, but the past viewed from the present, a nostalgic yearning for a place that only ever existed in the imagination. When the narrative does visit these places in person, rather than telling us about them secondhand, they become ugly and brutal, the jeweled facade hiding a rot underneath. In ASOIAF we have Dany ripping that facade off of Meereen and Yunkai, but she idealizes her own Targaryen heritage, and that is not insignificant, and as readers, we are invited to idealize it right along with her, in spite of plenty of hints that perhaps we should not (like the aforementioned slavery). We even hear Astapori and Yunkish slavers speaking to Dany echo sentiments about the even older Ghiscari empire, also lost, "Ours is the blood of ancient Ghis, whose empire was old when Valyria was yet a squalling child." Old Ghis and the Valyrians who conquered them are both long gone at this point, and yet their descendants are clinging to the legacies of cultures that would be wholly foreign to both of them. Because if Valyria is Xanadu, the Old Valyrians and Old Ghiscari are also Ozymandias, the mighty who have fallen, their once grand civilizations nothing but forgotten ruins. The Targaryens don't yet realize that they are that "half-sunk shattered visage," that they are yearning for something that is gone and never returning, something they never really knew in the first place.

Westeros is not immune to this either. I think it's a consistent theme that GRRM plays with is the ways which the past is glorified and distorted and romanticized. Even in a meta-sense, his entire medieval world is, in many ways, a half-remembered medieval fantasy, the medieval world as imagined by people who read Ivanhoe, rather than a medieval world as actually was. And GRRM simultaneously presents this romanticized world alongside the brutality of the past (and to drive that point home, George's medieval world is much more brutal than the real medieval world was), and so he asks us, just like Dany must ask herself at some point, is the past really all that romantic? Or are we simply yearning for something unnamable and Other? And if we yearn for that, why?

On the other hand, from an in-world perspective, if you are Westerosi, are there any redeeming qualities to Valyrian culture? And I think we can answer that question by asking ourselves, is there anything salvageable from the past, even if the past was terrible? Even if what we perceive of Old Valyria wavers between a horrific empire based on conquest and slavery, and an idealized homeland full of magical dragonriders, depending on who is doing the telling, if we accept it as a fully fleshed out world, then I think we can remember no cultures are monoliths. Old Valyria had art, architecture, fashion, music, literature, and I like to imagine that there were good freeholders, perhaps even Valyrian versions of the Roman Stoics and the Cynics, who raised moral objections to slavery. Certainly the Valyrian "freeholder" government itself, a kind of proto-democracy, similar to that of Athens, was innovative for its particular time and place, even if it was not as democratic as our modern democracies are, and that model of government is replicated throughout Essos, where strict hereditary monarchy seems to be relatively uncommon. Valyria also had a great deal of religious freedom, which persists throughout Essos as well. And as with any empire, it's important to keep in mind that the ruling class made up only a small percentage of actual Valyria, and we know there were Valyrians who were not dragonlords but just normal people, going about their lives who had nothing to do with the atrocities committed, and those people were telling stories, creating art, writing songs, and producing culture too. So I think, tying back into how GRRM uses Valyria and Essos in his narrative, we do not have to discard the past entirely, nor do in-world Targaryens, but it's the romanticization that's the problem, and I think that's something that both in-world characters and readers are cautioned against.

[thearchitects3]

Got caught up with the whole Drake and Kendrick drama recently

First of all, feel free to scroll past this if you don’t give a shit/have heard about it too any times already

But it inspired me to relisten to To Pimp A Butterfly, my favourite album of all time. I’d forgotten how majestic this album was.

I really wish it was treated more like a concept album, because that’s what it is in truth. It starts with Wesley’s theory and then “for free”, both demonstrating Kendrick’s desire for fame, and to be the great and respected by the women in his life. Then it goes to king kunta, which is a beautiful song about Kendrick celebrating achieving his goal, he is one of the greats, he made it, he’s the king. Then it starts to get self reflective, institutionalised has the key chorus “shit don’t change until you get up and wash your ass”, demonstrating the fact that Kendrick is acting like a child, wanting to be the best without considering what being the best actually means. This is further confirmed in These Walls, a haunting portrayal of toxic sexual relationships, reflecting “for free” as being completely out of touch. Kendrick then has a massive reflection in “u”, struggling with insane self loathing after his friend’s death, addressing “you” as his former self. Alright then counters the depressed mentality of the last song, explaining how despite all the struggle that he and the rest of his community will be “alright”. Then “for sale” brings forward the idea that the gangster rapper mentality is inherently toxic, and that the commodification of that lifestyle is like signing a deal with the devil. “Momma” shows the results of this self reflection, showing that he has a far deeper understanding of himself, before talking to himself as a child, who doesn’t even recognise the modern Kendrick. “Hood Politics” further describes the violence inherent to his culture. “How Much a Dollar Cost” shows how rappers become economically isolated from their communities and god. “The Blacker The Berry” shows Kendrick confronting the cultural construction of ‘the black man’, as violent, enslaved, institutionalised. This notion is completely rejected by “You ain’t gotta lie”, which demonstrates how conformity to these stereotypes is unnecessary and fake. Kendrick therefore achieves the maturity he lacks at the beginning of the album, describing how he loves himself as being true to himself rather than the constructed identities of a black man or a rapper, and countering especially the immaturity of Kendrick in “king kunta”, describing himself instead of a “king” as a “negus” a black king of Ethiopia, identifying himself with his African heritage and demonstrating his understanding of racial politics and identity. This notion of identity is further explored in “mortal man”, which analyses the very idea of black people as icons, quoting several examples, dead, alive, and killed. The song ends with a conversation with Tupac, another massive cultural icon who was killed, in which they discuss metaphors in their music and inspiring their communities.

This is of course merely one perspective, and I’ve definitely missed a lot in these songs, but just… it’s just so well done. Kendrick grows through the album, and everything about the music reflects it.

[ghost-proofbaby]

“I don’t care about your letter,” he tries to defend himself. He really does. But his voice raises in pitch, and she can feel his curiosity that burns incessantly over their tadpole connection. It’s going to eat him alive at some point, “It’s probably just some dreadfully boring love letter from whatever poor fool awaits your return in the city. Nauseating poetry you cling to each night before bed, no doubt.” 

summary: out of all the things aruna is coming to learn, her past and her heritage should be amongst the most interesting. but when her pale, vampiric friend slips up with one common phrase of endearment, she realizes there are far more interesting things to uncover.

wc: 7.7k+

warnings: mentions of a possibly deceased parent, these characters are so so lonely and so so traumatized it isn't even funny, more memory loss mention of course

a/n: the terrible attempt at drizzt lore. i just. my bad. i'm trying my best i swear. for anyone keeping track - yes, this is one of the chapters already posted on ao3 <3

ao3 | masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

“I need to speak to Astarion. Alone.” 

Amethysts meet rubies. Two sides of the same coin; two different creatures of the night used to scare the children of Faerun. 

Aruna is part drow, and Astarion is a vampire. 

Shadowheart is smart enough to exit the tent in a timely manner, even without knowing. 

Everything in Aruna craves to lash out, to confront him, to reveal to him that she knows his secret. She’s sure of it as she looks at him through brand new eyes now – he’s a vampire, and he seemingly has no plans on telling the rest of the group any time soon. She should just do it; she should yank off the bandaid for the safety of the others in camp, for her own safety. 

He musn’t know. 

She knows more now. Gaps in her synapses finally filled in, an illusion of sparse memories returned to her. She has the most basic understanding of what drows are. The concept of Faerun is less a fairytale she nods along to, and one that she can fully grasp now. Baldur’s Gate isn’t a whimsical idea anymore but instead a city she can almost picture the buildings of if she focuses hard ernough. She knows exactly what vampires are capable of. They were small gaps, ones that she hadn’t even noticed bothering her until they’d been soothed over with her new knowledge. 

For the first time since the crash, Aruna nearly feels human. Or, as human as she can, given her bloodline. 

And amidst humanity, common sense trickles back in. She can’t confront Astarion, not yet, because she knows he would only fight her. Denial, anger, lashing out – those are the only realistic reactions she’ll be allotted. The explanation of how she knows isn’t exactly soothing, either. 

He musn’t know. 

About the memories. About the moments between them that exist somewhere else, somewhere far from where they are now. For now, he cannot know. A secret to be kept until the timing is right. 

And quite the challenging secret to be kept, considering Aruna and Astarion have just learned how to essentially join their minds before this entire ordeal.

In the moments after Shadowheart has left them alone, Aruna comes to her temporary conclusion as Astarion slowly recovers from the shock of how abruptly Aruna had shut him out of her mind. Just as she subtly nods in determination to protect her mind, to protect her memories, Astarion looks back up at her suddenly.

 “Care to explain exactly why you slammed that mental door shut on me-”

She can’t answer that. So she interrupts with a sincere, “I’m sorry.” 

He’s taken back, just as she’d intended. 

“Sorry?” he asks, almost matching her sincerity before he seems to remember who he is, clearing his throat before carrying on in a more airy tone. Somehow more guarded, now that she can see more familiar pieces within him, “For what, exactly? The mental door, or the part where you were an absolute fool who nearly got yourself killed?” 

“Both,” she finally relaxes back into the bedroll. Shadowheart had been right; her entire body aches, and her palm is still tender, “I’m sorry for both, and I want to thank you for saving me.” 

“I didn’t save you-”

“Someone had to bring me back to camp,” she smiles weakly. Of course he was going to deny having committed a heroic act. For all the gaps of common knowledge that had been filled for her, there were also several holes in the puzzle that was Astarion that also had been permeated. The vampirism was probably the least interesting realization she could have taken from all she learned, “Deny it or accept it, I’m still thanking you.”

There’s more words on the tip of her tongue. She wants to tell him she knows, and she wants to tell him that he’s safe with her. She wants to convince him that he doesn’t need this mask with her, that she much prefers the version of him from the memory. With his guard down and humor still intact, not vying for her attention but understanding that they were both captivating one another simply by existing. No pressure, no weights. The version of him that keeps slipping through the cracks in rare moments alone.

But for now, she’ll leave it at a simple thank you. 

He doesn’t say another word, only nods, face twisted in an amusing discomfort and strange contemplation before he turns and motions for Shadowheart to return. Fine enough. 

Aruna just wishes he would stay instead of slither out just as the cleric slips back in. 

 —

“He’s pouting, you know.” 

Aruna doesn’t so much as glance up from her position on one of the plush pillows in front of Gale’s tent, staying focused on the book in her lap. The wizard sounds amused. 

“He’s not pouting,” she absent-mindedly replies, slowly turning the page as her eyes continue to drink in the words. They’re beginning to slowly blur together from how long she’s been reading, “He’s just being his usual delightful self.” 

She’s right – Astarion isn’t pouting. 

Whatever looks he’s been shooting her way since she’d been given permission by Shadowheart to venture over to Gale’s tent and read, as long as she promised to do nothing more than that, were just him being nosey as per usual. It had started with curious flickers, and as thetime passed, they became something more annoyed than anything else. But he had been the one to leave her behind in Shadowheart’s tent, and he had been the one avoiding her since that conversation between them. It’s not Aruna’s problem that the elf can’t handle someone expressing gratitude for having their life saved. 

“That,” Gale points to accentuate his point in the general vicinity of where Astarion is brooding by the campfire pit before ungracefully flopping himself down on the ground beside her, “is not his normal self. I’m starting to genuinely fear he’ll come after me in my sleep tonight if I continue to let you loiter in my space.” 

He has no idea how easily Astarion could truly accomplish that, should he so please. Part of Aruna nearly feels bad for keeping his true nature a secret, but she has no doubt that he’ll eventually expose himself. Especially if those brief flashes of visions that had been precursors to her full memory were anything to go off of. They’ll either find a drained boar, or he’ll attempt to drink Aruna’s blood, or she’ll simply confront him about it. Who knows, maybe this time, he’ll try to sneak a bite of Gale instead of Aruna. 

It’s strange to think of her journey as a repeat. But between the deja vu and the new memories available to her, that has to be what it is. History is repeating itself for some unknown reason. 

Save Astarion. 

Perhaps, some greater deity had sent her back in time. Perhaps something terrible had happened to Astarion that called for divine intervention. 

Well, she knows something terrible did in fact happen to him. She remembers the sobs and wails of her own volition, and she knows. 

Aruna turns another page instead of replying, so Gale finally continues, “May I ask why you needed to read a book on drows so urgently?” 

“Weren’t you the one that rambled on about a hungry mind and such nonsense?” Aruna grumbles, squinting her eyes at the page. She’s reread the same sentence three times now, but she refuses to look up on the off-chance that she sees another one of Astarion’s inconspicuous looks being shot this way. 

“Make no mistake – I don’t mean to dismiss your sudden craving for knowledge,” Gale holds up his hands and the motion has Aruna sparing him a glance, “Just quite the jump from the research you’d been doing regarding classes. Do you truly not remember your own race?” 

No, she thinks bitterly for a moment, apparently I did not. 

She sighs and closes the book softly finally, careful to dogear the page she was currently on, “What do you see when you look at me?” 

Gale’s eyebrows shoot up, “Is this a trick question?” 

She shakes her head, turning her body slightly as she discards the book to the pile forming at her side. She’d also gathered up a book on fighters and a book on rogues – she hadn’t forgotten the unspoken deal ongoing between herself and Astarion regarding his class, and had finally narrowed down her options, “Not at all. Friend to friend, how do you perceive me?” 

Friends. Gale smiles softly at that, and Aruna can’t help but let her own lips twitch. They needed friendship on this journey. And Gale seemed like a safe enough option, for now. 

“Well, for starters, I see someone lost,” he begins, and Aruna’s nose immediately scrunches in disgust as he rushes to continue, “But I also see someone very determined to find their way. Someone capable of great leadership thus far, and someone I find easy to put my trust in. I see someone good.”

She lets out a breath of a laugh, looking at Gale slightly amused, “Very kind words, but I meant regarding my race.” 

She swears she can see a trace of a blush along Gale’s neck as his eyes widen, “Oh. Oh, I see. Well, clearly elven descent,” as he says such, Aruna can’t stop herself from reaching up to tuck her hair behind those almost pointed ears of hers, “Although it’s unclear just how strong that elven heritage is. I assumed you already knew, between your ears and your eyes.” 

“Are you telling me purple eyes aren’t common, Gale of Waterdeep?” 

If she would turn to look at Astarion’s, she’d finally see all the pouting that her wizardly friend had been prattling on about. He can’t hide it, clear as day as he watches the man preen beneath the attention of their leader. 

“Not in my travels,” Gale chuckles. But his laughter falls short when he catches the look on Astarion’s face over Aruna’s shoulder, “Then again, red eyes also aren’t all that normal.” 

She doesn’t turn to look. She only leans in closer, pulling a teasing face, “He’s looking over here, isn’t he?” 

“I’m almost moved to beg you to give the poor man just a second of your time.” 

“I’m not the one who's doing the ignoring. He can come to me when he’s ready.” 

Gale holds up palms of surrender, “I see. Still. I think Astarion might be a bit more sensitive than any of us take him for, and-”

“I can hear you two, you are aware, yes?” 

As a shadow falls over Aruna, the warmth of the sun suddenly stolen as she knows exactly who’s looming over her shoulder now, she only grins. She had been very aware that he could hear every single word spoken – she had been counting on it, even. 

“Astarion!” she greets him overly enthusiastically, turning with flourish to challenge his own as she holds out an arm towards one of the empty pillows across from her, “Please, by all means, join us.” 

His scowl is almost cute, “I’m quite fine.” 

“Indeed you are. Why else would you decide to interrupt our casual conversation?” 

She’s pushing him, testing his limits. Given all her new knowledge, she should truly be focused on being more careful. By all counts of logic, she should be walking on eggshells around the vampire. But he doesn’t scare her. Not when he’s covered in blood from battle, and not now as he glares down at herself and Gale. 

“Gossip is unbecoming, my dear,” he snipes, still standing, blocking the setting sun still and  allowing Aruna’s eyes to stay relaxed as she peers up at him, “Besides, if anyone is interesting enough to be whispered about in this camp, I’d argue it would be you.” 

Gale is all but forgotten as she finally awards Astarion the attention she knows he’s been secretly pining for. His mask of indifference and shield of annoyance are no match for her; she doesn’t understand why he craves for her words and her quiet looks, but he does. A soft spot she fully intends to explore more in the future. 

“And why is that? Is it because of my half-heartedly pointed ears, or my eyes of a drow?” 

Gale stiffens up as she puts it so bluntly. She’d already read enough of the text to understand it; her heritage was the reason for her unique eyes. No need to refuse to speak it outloud. She was part drow, plain and simple, even if no one had brought it up to her previously. 

Astarion almost seems impressed by her candor, “Well, you said it. Not me.” 

“Drow isn’t a bad word,” she argues, subtly motioning to the book atop her pile, “A few rotten eggs shouldn’t spoil all the fun.” 

Astarion’s eyes dart to that open pillow once more, and Aruna waves towards it once more. A silent invitation she’s secretly begging for him to take. 

Let me back in. Just accept my kindness and stop playing these games. 

She almost sends it down the connection, but she hasn’t reached out across the tadpoles since she’d shut him out to begin with. There’s no guarantee if she reignites that bridge between them that she could keep her thoughts, her memories, private from him. If he finds out what she knows, she has no idea what to expect as his reaction. 

It’s all complicated. Terribly, brutally complicated. 

“In all fairness,” Gale clears his throat, “Your eyes… Drows donning that specific shade are usually not of the evil variety.” 

“No, drows donning this specific shade are usually of the surface variety.” 

The book had made that very clear – those blood red eyes, ones to rival even Astarion’s, were exclusively reserved for the drows that crept amongst the shadows.

Astarion suddenly seems to decide the conversation is worth further indulging in, committing to his participation as he settles himself down on the open pillow with far more grace than Gale had exhibited when he lowered himself to the ground, “Have you ever heard the name Drizzt?”

Her confused look, vacant of recognition, is the only answer he needs. 

“Right,” the vampire huffs out, “Of course you haven’t.”

Aruna is about to inquire who the Hell Drizzt is, but Gale is faster, clearly sensing her perplexity, “The history of Drizzt Do’Urden is a very long, very complicated one. All you need to really know, for now, is he was one of the first drows to escape to live amongst the surface rather than the Underdark. He lost the favor of Lolth, the goddess commonly worshiped by drows-”

“Hold on, hold on,” Aruna has leaned forward without even noticing, trying to understand all the sudden lore of her unexpected heritage. But it’s nearly impossible, a few gaps still existing in this corner of her mind, “What’s the Underdark? Who’s Lolth?” 

“She’s hopeless.” 

“Astarion,” Gale scolds. He’s a good teacher, she realizes. Patient, understanding. All things she desperately needed, “The Underdark is home to many creatures, drow included. The sun does not penetrate the lands. I’m afraid my knowledge of it falls a bit flat for the time being, but I can surely find a book on it if I don’t already have one,” he offers a kind smile, “We can learn. Together.” 

The mention of Astarion killing Gale in his sleep creeps back into Aruna’s mind as she watches Astarion’s eyes narrow at the suggestion. He’s acting as though she’s a rare commodity, as if her companionship and attention are something to ration carefully amongst themselves rather than something she gives willingly. 

She can be friends with both Astarion and Gale. The sooner he realizes that, the sooner all this ridiculous tension can cease. 

“And Lolth?” she keeps her eyes trained on Astarion, practically urging him to stop with the death stare. 

It doesn’t. 

She’s going to regret it, but she throws out a mental hand for that bridge between their minds, one tadpole caressing against the other as she asks for entrance to his mind. 

She can handle it. She can do this and close the connection without exposing any of her memories. It’ll be fine – it has to be fine. 

The death stare is cut off by his look of shock, head whipping towards her with a questioning glance. In an instant, the pressure gives, and she knows he’s let her in. 

If you kill Gale in his sleep over something as petty as trying to teach me of my heritage, I’ll sharpen my axe, just as we discussed. 

Astarion’s eyebrows raise ever so slightly, promise?

I’m not a commodity, Astarion. And jealousy is not a good look on you. 

Jealousy? He’s doing well, hiding his irritation at the suggestion, but she still catches the flare of his nostrils, I am not jealou-

“Are either of you even listening to me?” 

The moment evaporates, but Aruna doesn’t make any move to clip the connection quite yet. She leaves it open as she turns her head to an offended Gale. 

And she catches that slight quiver of delight that runs down it once Astarion realizes he isn’t being pushed back out. 

“I’m sorry,” Aruna apologizes, offering up a pitiful smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, “As you were saying?” 

She listens to Gale’s explanation this time. Astarion, it seems, doesn’t. He’s too preoccupied sparing her endless glances. 

Lolth sounds terrifying, even with Gale’s soothing voice explaining who she is. A goddess worshiped amongst drows, revered of the highest status. Often referred to as the Queen of Spiders.  A merciless goddess who thrives off of chaos, off of cruelty. The more that Gale explains her, the more that Aruna detests her. Someone who demands obedience, someone who demands violence. 

Part drow or not, Aruna would never worship Lolth. She knows such with finality. 

Her staunch hatred drips down the mental connection with Astarion before she can catch herself. Even if she had, he’s surely caught the brief scowl that passes over her face momentarily. He makes no move to comfort her, only stares, gaze more curious than anything else. 

“Queen of the Spiders?” she finally scoffs. A weak response that hardly vocalizes the true disdain she holds, but she isn’t sure how to navigate that yet, “What a ridiculously stupid title.”  

Astarion snorts. Gale looks entirely unamused. 

Aruna continues to try and tame the flames of negativity that have sparked at the entire conversation. 

“I know you mean well and are joking,” Gale starts to lecture, “But I would tread carefully considering we don’t know your pas-” 

“Yes, yes. Her past,” Astarion interrupts, leaning forward as he stares into Aruna’s eyes, “You know, I’m starting to believe it may not be as unknown as we have come to think.” 

Aruna swears her heart stops, “What are you trying to say, Astarion?” 

“I just find it odd that you dance with death, and awaken with a morbid curiosity for your heritage. When exactly did you realize you have a little drow inside you, dear?” 

Her blood runs cold. The connection is wide open, leaving her mind vulnerable as her thoughts begin to race. She’s trying to scramble to slam that door shut, to keep Astarion out of her thoughts and out of her memories, but it seems as though he has one foot in the threshold now. He’s not being pushed back out without a fight this time. 

His voice is velvet as it caresses along her cerebrum. 

What aren’t you telling us, little fool? 

“We’ve repeatedly said my memories might return to me,” she purposefully chooses to answer out loud, keeping the safety net of Gale’s involvement within reach, “I- I can’t explain it. I simply knew when I woke up.” 

Only a half lie. Only a slight perversion of the full truth. 

She can feel the weight of his tadpole pressing up against her boundaries. Just as she had chosen to push his limits, he’s doing the same. Meddling where he knows he shouldn’t, attempting to elicit chaos that he must be aware won’t end well. 

Get out of my mind, Astarion. 

You were the one who reopened this wonderful treat of a connection, he tsks silently, Already regretting it? 

I’ll show you true regret if you don’t mind yourself. 

The only flaw of threatening someone who has access to your mind, to all your thoughts and all your emotions, is when they can immediately call your bluff. Astarion doesn’t believe she’ll bring any harm onto him for even a second. There is a softness, a fondness, that lies beneath that she cannot hide no matter how deeply she attempts to bury it. It’s why she’s yet to bring up his vampirism, it’s why she hadn’t fought harder against him during their first meeting at the beach when he’d held a dagger to her throat. 

It’s why he sits now before her, a delightful grin playing at his lips as he taunts her without repercussion. 

“Well, that’s certainly interesting,” Gale hums, seemingly unaware of the internal argument flaring up. That, or he’s ignoring their odd behavior, “So you can recall that you’re a drow-”

“Quarter drow,” she corrects uselessly, not causing the slightest falter in Gale’s cadence. 

“-and you’ve learned you’re a sorcerer. Anything else worth mentioning?”

Yes, dear. Anything else? 

She presses harder on that mental door, still trying to slam it shut, still failing miserably against his strength. 

Clearly, he had been true to his word. He really does relish in annoying her at any given chance. 

“Nothing I can think of at the moment,” she quips shortly. She’s trying to school her expression towards Astarion, but she’s coming up sorely short.  

Gale nods, twisting his lips, careful in thought, “Right, well. If anything does come to mind, I’m sure you’ll clue us in.” 

“Of course.” 

Astarion is about to send another sarcastic comment over their connection. She can sense it, feel the vibrations of his laughter before he’s even sent it. But in his amusement, his concentration of keeping one foot in the doorway has slipped, and Aruna’s mental strength is finally enough to shove him out with a resounding slam through her mind. He looks significantly less like a kicked puppy this time, as though it had all been a game, and this wasn’t him losing so much as it was her sending the ball into his court. 

“Now,” she says suddenly, moving quickly to stand, head whirling a bit from the entirety of this conversation. There’s still echoes of her clicking the lock into place to keep Astarion firmly out of her cognitive space. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to go get some proper rest before Shadowheart throws another fit.” 

She’s quick to gather up the few books Gale has so graciously offered her, pressing them hard enough into her chest to leave a mark. In her scramble to pick them up, the cover of the rogue book has flashed to where Astarion can see it. 

He grins, and she doesn’t notice. 

She does notice the caress of icey, gentle fingers along the outskirts of her mind as she walks away, though. A reminder that her locked door can only keep him at bay for so long. And he won’t even have to be the one to unlock it. 

By the time she’s made it to her secluded destination, her perch overlooking the camp, the very same spot that had served as sanctuary to herself and the Astarion from her memories, her nimble fingers are already the one toying with unlocking the door. 

Not quite an invitation, but not quite a warning. Simply a reminder.

—

The hours pass by a bit slower when Aruna’s left to her own devices. 

She’s found comfort in the patch of grass just below the cover of trees, back pressed into the bark of one of the thicker oaks rather than trying to find a good reading position on her usual boulder. Her attention and intentions divide themselves out over the time; she practices small incantations in the palms of her hands, she continues to dance with the idea of unlocking her mental door once more for Astarion, she reads more of the book on drows. Eventually, she stumbles across the name Drizzt. 

Gale had highly undersold the legendary drow. 

There’s tales of his adventures put into plain terms across a spread of pages. A brief overview of House Do’Urden, a quickened history of Menzoberranzan. At some point, a headache forms from all these concepts that Aruna can’t fully grasp yet, things she craves to dive deeper into the knowledge of but simply can’t with nothing more than a book written by someone who clearly had no vested interest in drows. 

It’s the shortest of the books she’s taken thus far. No flourish to the words. Just facts, laid out in the simplest fashion possible, as though more elaboration would have pained the author. 

Aruna finally gives up at some point, somewhere between reading about Drizzt’s departure from his people and his acclimation to life on the surface that led to his adventures, and tosses the book to her side. There had only been one useful bit of knowledge that had stuck with her – lavender eyes. Drizzt Do’urden had lavender eyes, previously unheard of, only a few shades lighter than Aruna’s own. 

Or has, she supposes. She hadn’t seen anything about his explicit death during her skimming. 

She reaches up and takes out the tight ponytail she’d been donning during most of their travels. Dark hair spills down her shoulders, catching in the breeze, almost mimicking her past memory she’d finally unlocked. This time, however, the shades of the setting sun filter through the locks rather than the caress of moonlight. Deep oranges and pinks give a different hue to the strands. There’s a pounding in rhythm with her heartbeat as she tilts her tender head back against the bark, eyes fluttering shut, the vibrance of dusk painting brilliance across her closed lids. 

Drizzt was the first to don eyes like hers. The first to dare to dwell on the surface. She tries to picture them as she relaxes, mere shades lighter than her own. 

All she can see, though, are the ones belonging to the motherly figure from her memory. 

I was someone’s daughter once. 

There is no one waiting on her out there. The past tense is deafening as she feels that acceptance seep into her bones. She was someone’s daughter, but she hadn’t been in a very, very long time. Whoever’s eyes she bore was long gone, below the ground, marked by a gravestone that she knew her younger self had defiantly carved markings into. 

Her mother. Her mother’s eyes, and her mother’s grave. 

Her eyes shoot open and she overlooks the camp, just as this version of herself has done a handful of times. Just as the shadowed version of herself had done hundreds of times. 

Aruna’s hands move before she can think. She doesn’t reach for any of the books she’s carried up with her, doesn’t reach out to push her fingers through moss to ground herself, and certainly doesn’t reach for her daggers. Her fingertips make straight for the small pouch that hasn’t left her side since the crash – for the destroyed paper within. 

It’s finally dried, despite being tucked away into leather all this time. There’s a delicate crinkle to it, one that makes Aruna fear breaking it as she carefully undoes the trifold of the letter. She doesn’t know what she was expecting – for the words to have magically restored themselves, for a new answer to have suddenly appeared on the parchment, for a new clue to present itself to her now that she’s regained some of her memories – but it’s the same as the very first day. 

One handwriting addressing her by name neatly across the top, and another frantically instructing her across the bottom. 

She lifts the paper until her nose is nearly pressed to it, eyes digging deeply into the overall blue hue that marks the center of the letter. What did it once say? Did she write this letter? Did someone else? 

Had her mother possibly written this letter? And was it possible that saving Astarion had everything to do with her? 

It doesn’t feel very possible. Her mother’s death feels far removed from whatever situation she’s gotten herself into with Astarion. 

“For someone calling out across a mental bond, you have made yourself quite hidden.” 

Speak of the Devil, and he shall appear. 

She looks up just as he breaks between the two trees that had been functioning to keep her out of sight from the others, a sly grin on his face. 

“I’m no Devil, my dear,” he corrects her, and she stiffens. Had she said that out loud? “And no, you’re not speaking out loud. Did you not realize you’d reopened the connection?” 

“I-” her mouth falls open, brows furrowing. She knew she’d been playing with fire, fiddling with the lock, but hadn’t even heard the click of her opening the door back up. She finally sighs in acceptance, letting her head fall back to the tree with a thump, “No. I hadn’t realized.” 

He nods, stopping right at the edge of moss and grass that she’d made into her seat for the night, “Well, that certainly puts your odd message into perspective.” 

“What? What did you hear? What did I even say?” 

He hesitates. The same contemplative look from in the Grove has passed over his face for just a second. 

“I was someone’s daughter once.” 

Her heart effectively drops. “Oh.”

He nods awkwardly for a second, passing his weight between his two feet until he suddenly waves a hand towards the little space beside her at the tree trunk, “May I?” 

It’s the exact opposite of their interaction outside of Gale’s tent. She isn’t the one beckoning, the one nearly begging to be let in. That whisper of desperation clings to Astarion instead. 

“You may,” she goes as far as to scoot over, leaving him more than ample space to sit on the patch of moss rather than in the dirt. 

The sky has begun to bleed navy, darkening with each passing second. Time seems to stop as shadows creep up all around them, the moon preening over the horizon to catch a glimpse of them. The entire night seems to wait with bated breath, as though this is the first step of a very long journey, something entirely separate from the adventure they’ve embarked on with their odd companions and their dreadful tadpoles. 

Something expected. Something delicate. Something remembered. 

He’s just as graceful as he had been earlier as he descends to sit beside her easily, legs crossing but knees careful not to brush a single inch of her own thighs. A certain amount of distance is maintained. They’re not there yet. 

“I don’t know all of what you remembered, and that is your secret to keep,” he starts off, uncharacteristically careful in his choice words, “But… if you happened to remember some bits of that childhood, the one you spoke of not having in the Grove…” 

She doesn’t know why, but she’s more willing to be honest when it’s just them. When it’s just her, him, and the moon to bear witness to her vulnerability.

“It wasn’t quite my childhood,” she admits. She can’t let him know the full truth, that cleaved half of her soul has made sure to remind her of such as it burns in her chest, but she can at least tell him of this, “Just… It’s hard to explain. I was in a past memory, and in that moment, I just knew things about myself. Like… how I’m part drow, or how- how I’m somebody’s daughter.” 

I was somebody’s daughter. 

He’s quiet for too long for her liking.

“Does that even make sense?” she questions, turning to him, shoulders drooping in exhaustion, “I sound insane right now, don’t I?” 

“You do,” he answers quickly, “You sound positively mad right now.” 

“Great. Awesome. Perfect,” sarcasm drips off each staccatoed word she breathes out, face twisting with a scowl as she turns back from him. 

She was going insane. She had a worm in her brain instead of memories, and she was going delirious. How fitting. 

“You didn’t let me finish,” he chuckles at her flare of attitude, “There was a but somewhere in there, you know.” 

“Was it something along the lines of, ‘but we need you to survive’, because-”

“But I think we’ve all earned a bit of insanity given our current circumstances.”

Her tongue falls silent, eyes wide as they glance his way. Darkness has fallen entirely upon them, but even in the shadows, she can catch the glint of his half-there smile. There’s a comfort about it that burrows somewhere deeper than she can reach, and it only reminds her of the letter still settled in her lap. 

The letter. 

Her sudden urgent awareness of her most prized secret clearly exposes itself over the tadpole connection, as Astarion’s eyes follow her own as she looks down to the parchment. 

“Oh,” he livens up a bit, the heaviness of the moment slipping between their fingers at an alarming rate, “What do we have here?” 

He reaches out with the intention to take the paper right out of her lap, but she’s faster. Ironic, given his vampiric status. 

The page wrinkles ever so slightly within her eager fist as she holds it out of his reach. He’s almost unrelenting, beginning to lean forward and chase after it, until she snaps, “Don’t.” 

Any playfulness is denied. Her heart races, hand shaking as she continues to hold it out, merely fooling herself that she has it out of his reach. If he really wants to, he’ll take it from her. Part of her knows such.

But part of her also trusted him to receive the message of denial, loud and clear. And he does. 

His hands lift in surrender, looking at her surprised, “My apologies. I wasn’t aware you were so… protective of a piece of paper.” 

“It’s not just a piece of paper.”

“What is it, then?” 

And- well, she can’t answer him. Not truthfully. How does she even begin to explain it? 

A letter from someone. Addressing me. Actually, I can’t be entirely sure that it’s addressing me – I just happened to be so unlucky as to find it near where I landed after the crash. And, oh, yes. Yes, it does indeed mention you by name. Why? Who knows. 

“Just…. Just some letter,” as she says it, she’s already folding it back up, hands not working nearly fast enough for her need to keep away Astarion’s prying eyes. 

“A letter?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to elaborate?” 

“No.” 

As Aruna finally shoves the letter back into her pouch, albeit with more care than necessary, Astarion is rolling his eyes, “What is it with our group and super secretive items?” 

“Super secretive items?” Aruna’s fingers pause their smoothing out of the paper into a secure position, barely brushing against that opal stone at the bottom of her small velvetine bag, “Who else even has one besides me?”

“Shadowheart and her ridiculous polyhedron,” he sighs, leaning back into his own space, clearly putting on dramatics, “Gale and his… general magic. I swear the man jumped out of his skin when I questioned what he was conjuring in his hands the other night.” 

“What was he conjuring?” 

“If I knew, why would I be referring to it as a secretive item?” 

Fair point. Aruna finally removes her hand out of the pouch and draws the gold cord tightly, “Right. Well, is there a point to all this, or are you just jealous you don’t have an item of your own?” 

He rolls his eyes again, and she nearly makes a sarcastic joke about them getting stuck like that if he keeps it up. 

“How many times must I tell you I’m not jealous?” Until I actually believe it, “I just find it peculiar, how those damned mind flayers seemed to have chosen the most secretive and elusive bastards they could get their hands on to shove a parasite into their brains.”

“Lae’zel seems to be an open book, if it’s any reconciliation to you.” 

Aruna’s mind is wandering, absent-mindedly pulling at loose tufts of moss from below where she sits. She almost feels guilty, suddenly heavy from all the secrets she realizes she keeps. The letter, the stone, her memories – she’s gathering up quite the arsenal. She silently begs for Astarion’s honesty, for his own trust, but it seems she can’t even have the decency to award her own. 

How is it any fair that she wishes for him to lower his own mask as she only raises hers higher?

“I could care less of Lae’zel’s secrets, if she were to have any,” Astarion snorts. 

“Is that your way of saying you care about mine?” 

“Please,” he chuckles, tilting his head in her direction, “Don’t be so full of yourself.” 

It’s almost the same as the memory, if she closes her eyes and lets the moonlight seep into her skin. Playful banter, easy back and forth. For a second, even with the topic at hand, it feels like there may not be a mask in sight. Only two friends, gossiping. As if there isn’t an impending doom squirming in their brain matter. As if they’ve known each other a lifetime and not a week. 

“You’re the one who seems insistent on interrogating me about my memories and my letter,” she reminds him, keeping a light-hearted tone. 

She doesn’t really mind. Even if she feels terrible for not being able to reveal more to him. Which doesn’t make much sense, especially given that she knows he’s keeping a secret of his own. 

“I don’t care about your letter,” he tries to defend himself. He really does. But his voice raises in pitch, and she can feel his curiosity that burns incessantly over their tadpole connection. It’s going to eat him alive at some point, “It’s probably just some dreadfully boring love letter from whatever poor fool awaits your return in the city. Nauseating poetry you cling to each night before bed, no doubt.” 

“Ah, yes,” she sighs out wistfully, clearly forced and insincere, “My dreamy lover who gazes up at the stars with each passing night, mourning my absence and wishing for my safe return to his safe arms. Laugh lines I could follow to the ends of Faerun, hair that curls so delicately upon his ears-” 

“I didn’t ask for you to begin to wax poetry,” he cuts her off. His lips betray him, twitching out of whatever grimace he was trying to put on, a glimmer of a smile beneath the surface, “I was simply making an astute observation. Surely you have someone waiting for you.” 

And just like that, Aruna is deflating. 

Because she doesn’t know if she does. She had the smallest of hopes that maybe a family would be awaiting her, but the memory has crushed all of those childish dreams. She might have a lover longing for her, but something inside of her stirs uncomfortably, as though that fate doesn’t quite align. For a quiet moment, Aruna is reminded of just how truly, terribly, scarily alone she is. 

They all have someone. Surely, even Astarion has something waiting for him back in the city. Someone, something. And Aruna has nothing. 

“Maybe,” she weakly whispers, glancing up at the moon. 

Maybe, but I highly doubt it. 

It’s meant to be a private thought, something forlorn for only her own personal pity party, but it slips down the connection before she can even think to close herself off. 

Astarion’s head whips towards her, “You doubt it?” 

She doesn’t have the right words, stricken with embarrassment and lingering sadness. She’s beginning to hate that connection, truly. 

All she can do is look at him and try to not let too much of her uncertain despair seep into her violet eyes. To gauge his reaction in her silence with care, see if he’s receptive to her accidental vulnerability. It’s useless, though – she knows they shine with it, nearly brightly enough to have it reflected back in Astarion’s eyes for her to see in full force. 

“You were somebody’s daughter once,” he repeats the thought that had carried him up to her to begin with slowly, voice nothing more than a whisper as he tests out the weight of the words on his tongue. And then he whispers it again, and she feels just how heavy he’s come to find them, “You were somebody’s daughter once.” 

She doesn’t want to do this. She doesn’t want to dissect all that it means and have to say it all out loud. That loss only feels half hers – that past isn’t quite within her ownership yet. 

Yet.

“Tell me something about your past,” she nearly begs as she takes deep breaths, forcing away the thoughts and her memory. 

“Demanding little thing, aren’t you?” 

“You can either tell me,” she sniffs hard, blinking up at the night sky, focusing on a gathering of stars as the burn of her near tears retreat, “Or I can simply start rattling on about assumptions.” 

She was somebody’s daughter once, but she is no longer, and there was no need for them to linger on the fact. 

“Hm,” he’s watching her carefully, even when she doesn’t notice. Alert to all of her emotions and all of her attempts at a distraction. She’s just grateful he’s a good sport, willing to play along. The other might not have done the same, “Well, now I’m curious what these assumptions might be.” 

“You were a tailor,” her tongue is rapid, quickly firing away, desperate for the change in the conversation, “Probably the best in all of Baldur’s Gate, given what I’ve seen of your tastes. You charged an arm and a leg, but you never spent a piece of the gold. It’s definitely all been piled into some grand underground safe that you would go and sit in as you stared at your riches each night before bed.” 

It’s ridiculous, and he snorts so hard that he falls back against the tree. 

“A tailor? May I ask what gave you that idea?” 

They’re a tad bit closer now, at least physically. She can see clearly into his garnet eyes when she turns her head to face him tiredly. 

She keeps her voice low, as though sharing a secret, “Your clothes. I can see the gold threading where you clearly stitched it back up yourself.”

His smile falls slowly, not entirely erasing itself from his features, but his eyes look off into the distance and she knows she’s nearly lost him. He’s floating away, somewhere faraway – back to what his life must have truly been. 

“I’m not a tailor,” even his voice is drifting off. She resists the urge to reach into the air and capture them – capture him – back in the moment. There would only be the cool air of the night, anyways, slipping between her fingers, “Though it is a nice thought. You paint quite the pretty picture.” 

A rush of emotions that don’t belong to Aruna suddenly floods her senses. A hunger, deep rooted and panging in her stomach. A fear, ever twisting and clawing with desperation like no other. Like fingernails digging through the dirt of a grave, like a year spent in solitude. It nearly suffocates her at the unexpectedness.

The tadpole connection works both ways. 

Wherever he’s gone, it’s a painful place to be. Her need to bring him back to the here and now only rises. 

“So no secret safe full of gold?” she attempts to keep up the bit, to see if he’ll bite. 

“‘Fraid not, my sweet,” he murmurs in return, not taking the bait. 

My sweet. She doesn’t think he’s noticed the new term of endearment slip off his tongue so naturally. It should alarm both of them, a boundary being overstepped after such little time of being acquaintances, but she swears she hears the moon sing and the shadows sigh in relief when he calls her it. Like he was always supposed to regard her with such adornment. Like his tongue was only ever sculpted to whisper pretty words to her and only her. 

“If you weren’t a tailor, what were-” she cuts off before quickly correcting herself, “What are you?”  

She knows. Gods, she knows what he is. 

She knows what that hunger is. It should scare her.

But then his eyes find hers, and the cicadas begin to hum their song, and it doesn’t matter. She can see the focus reentering him, the slow drag of leaving behind the past as he returns to her. He’s still touched with a sadness, still reeks of a desperation she can’t understand, but he’s back. 

“I was a magistrate,” he answers her. When his eyelashes flutter, she knows it’s only a half truth, “It was all terribly boring, to be honest.” 

“I don’t even know what a magistrate is.” 

“Ah, my dearest Aruna,” he grins slowly, rolling his head away from her, looking up between the branches that form the canopy over them, “There is so much to teach you.” 

She doesn’t even notice. He’s talking, wildly spinning tales of what exactly a magistrate does, and she knows he’s exaggerating, but she can’t help but become entranced. She listens, and she laughs, and she offers up her full attention so freely that there’s no space for her to linger on three silly words. 

It’s only later that night, once the fire has died down and she’s slipped into her bed roll, that Astarion’s voice begins to echo in her mind. 

My dearest Aruna. 

If it wasn’t for the man of the hour resting on the other side of the fire, she would have shot up at the realization. She hadn’t even noticed. The endearment rang out just as comfortably as my sweet had, drifting right over her head in the moment, but now it stares her dead between her eyes. Taunting. Mocking. Plaguing.

My dearest Aruna. 

She clutches the letter extra tightly that night, between her fists and just out of sight within her bed roll, and doesn’t sleep a wink. 

taglist: @emmaisgonnacry @writinginthetwilight @moonmunson @generalstephkenobi

if you'd like to join the taglist, simply let me know <3

[homochadensistm]

those twitter screenshots of that white american woman saying the concept of having a homeland being weird made my blood boil. i'm not white, but i am american and have puerto rican heritage. my whole life, i've undergone so much racist abuse from other groups, and the sad thing is is that i can't exactly even "go back" to puerto rico because there's so much shit going on down there and white visitors who are taking over the island, as well as taking up all the housing there. they harass native puerto ricans there all the time, too. sounds familiar? being a white american is a different breed of privilege istfg. she tried so hard to sound like an ethnic mutt, but despite having all those different countries in her blood, at the end of the day.. she is still white. and if she ever finds herself needing to go to europe to start a new life, she can absolutely do so without any problems at all. at the very worst, she might get clowned on for being an american, but white europeans would embrace her anyway. it's not the same with jewish americans, and it wasn't the same for me either when i lived in europe for several years. it's a completely different scenario. some idiot online also argued that jews don't need a country or a continent to yourselves, that there's nothing wrong with living spread out globally. like if that's so, why are they also in the same breath complaining that palestine should only belong to muslim arabs and no one else? how come certain groups can have everything and some should just contend themselves to be diasporic? whether i live here in america, in europe, or even in puerto rico, i'll always have someone somewhere calling me a spic and spit at my face. meanwhile, that white american girl can live peacefully ANYWHERE. sorry for this rageful ask, i'm just.. damn, this whole thing is making me just lose hope for humanity. i'm done.

Answering, as promised <3

I understand where you're coming from but I disagree with the conclusions: Americans wouldn't have it easy in Europe if they suddenly chose to move there. The cultural gap is VAST and no amount (or lack) of melanin can bridge that. Europe is a big place and every country is different culturally and linguistically, Americans would be just as lost and looked down upon in whichever euro country they choose as anyone else. Plus, in many places in Europe Americans are kind of a joke and the stereotyping is strong.

The privilege of those people who don't understand nationalism or why it's necessary is that of peace. People who haven't had their lives endangered merely because of their ethnic background will never understand why nationalism is important to those who are endangered by theirs daily. If you were fortunate enough to be born in the US/Canada/some parts of western Europe you're nationalistically-stupid by design. Peace made you this way, not an elitist book about the horrors of nationalism from a university.

[adam-parrishs-lips]

Joseph Kavinsky thoughts:

I REALLY love the idea that his birthday *is* July 4th.

I don't see his family as being too patriotic for any part of their American heritage, whatever that may be, so it has no significance in that sense. But it embodies so many of K's favorite things: freedom, sick-ass fireworks, celebration/connection with people/an excuse to get wasted and let yourself get lost in the feeling of it all. (Again, without the hyper/gross/gaudy American patriotism--the *actual* concepts).

But it's also bittersweet, because it's when he came into the world, and his parents don't view it as anything special. It's a reminder that no matter how much of an effort he makes to surround himself with people, to make himself the life of the party, he's still fundamentally alone. Not understood.

And my god, I'm a sucker for angst, so Kavinsky going out in a blaze of glory on the day of his birth--and consequently, the day of his death...it's just too painful and good.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk. 😔

[moonmeg]

Just curious: what inspired Micah to be written? (As someone with Scottish heritage I love him)

His concept was so different from what he is now. Originally he did not have red hair, freckles, golden eyes nor did he stem from a Scottish type family and most importantly his name wasn't Micah.

I don't have first concept art or something but the image I had of Robyn's best friend (and possible love interest) was not the Micah you know and love now. His original concept was a Willow-ish looking character. That's the best way to describe it. I don't have a prototype name either :(

The idea to change his appearance and whole character actually came from my time in Italy when I picked up Outlander again and since I'm a sucker for anything Scottish it was almost weird I didn't include any of it. I played around with the idea of future characters having a Scottish accent or at least using Scottisisms and found it nice enough for unnamed-Micah-concept to stick with it without another thought.

The appearance then came with sketching around and liking this very first sketch of (adult) Micah. I found it especially endearing due to this one trait of his but I can't go into detail here just yet (even though many have already figured it out lol)

As for the name...

Look, I'm the WORST at choosing names for characters. I barely ever had ocs because I always struggle with names. So as I was overworking this character I thought of many, many names. Went through lists, name generators and whatnot. I was thinking about it a lot because I needed at least a placeholder name for the scripts. Don't remember when or how that came but one day suddenly She-Ra and the Princesses of Power came back to me. Just the memory of the show. And I remembered I liked the character of Glimmer's dad, King Micah, a whole bunch. I used it as placeholder at first but grew to like it so much over time that I just stuck with it.

And that's the story of Mikey <3

[the-blue-fairie]

Yelana wove a special towel for Elsa to sit upon, for hygiene’s sake. Elsa could, of course, conjure her own ice-towel at any moment - and that is what she did when venturing out into the forest, often enough, because she wanted to be as unencumbered as possible - but in the village, she always used the woven one. She treasured the feeling of being connected to her heritage through it, and the texture of Northuldra cloth was distinctive to ice-cloth. It was warmer and made with the love of family and community, a gift to show they loved her and wanted her to be happy.

More of my nudist!Elsa concept - a piece I commissioned from durdevul that can also be found here.

I wanted to emphasize the Northuldra weaving as a means of giving Elsa a link to her heritage without traditional garments. @snowqueenofmyheart @ahallister I think you both might appreciate this.

[whatvilecreature]

TELL ME ABOUT VIVIENNE

YES! OKAY! Viv's an oc I have in a universe with @tg-headcanons, which operates by their headcanons about the garden - wherein children from the garden, such as Arima, are actually half-ghouls without full expression of ghoul traits. As such, they possess high physical ability and are often sought out or bred by organisations such as the CCG to raise as soldiers. More info below the cut bc I went on a RANT

Viv is one such half-ghoul, born to a ghoul father and a human mother, whose parents were murdered by 'ghouls' when she was around four or five. Of course, the CCG, which had been keeping tabs on her family, were behind the murders, but when Vivienne wandered into the scene, she was told they were murdered by ghouls. Being far too young to remember all the details, and far too traumatised to question, she spent the rest of her childhood years in a CCG orphanage (such as some of the children who were sourced for the Oggai in :re). She was groomed from a young age to want revenge against ghouls for the unfair death of her parents, and due to her ghoul heritage, swiftly outstripped the other children. She was accepted into the CCG as a low ranking investigator at age fifteen, and it spiraled from there. She became obsessed with the notion of revenge, rising through the ranks and killing more and more powerful ghouls, hoping to get to the one which murdered her parents.

At the present of the story, she's Vivienne Mallory - the American branch of the CCG's top investigator, working on Project Headlights, an investigation to take down a rank SSS+ ghoul named Roadkill (ask tg-headcanons about Ahiga eheheh). Despite her killing prowess, though, the years of being trained just to kill have left her living like a hamster. She doesn't have many interests outside of work, or friends, being quite socially challenged and appearing naive. Outside of the actual work itself, she's quite unassuming, the kind of person you'd gloss over. She cares deeply for those she holds close, and tends to put the rose-coloured glasses on for them - as is the case with her coworker Jonah, or the fact that the ghoul she's hunting is lying right under her nose. She genuinely believes that the genocide she's helping commit is a beneficial thing - not just for her, but for keeping those who she loves safe. She's blissfully unaware of even her own discomfort within her living situation, and of any greater issues, but at the heart of it, if she were allowed to grow up normally, she never would have caused so much harm. It's a concept she has to grapple with once she finds out about her heritage.

She's very much got the demeanor of a quiet, slightly strange woman you'd see working at a run-down second-hand bookstore. Genuinely a nice person with a bit going on behind the scenes, until you realise her job is slaughtering innocents with fervor you didn't think possible for someone like that.

Other Viv facts include -

she lives in a one-bedroom studio apartment and sleeps on a mattress straight on the ground. she's happy like this :)

She has a budgie named Bruce (after the shark in jaws) whose cage is somehow cleaner than the entire apartment WITH his shit in it

she loves sharks. so much. her one hobby is re-watching her favourite shark doco over and over.

She's a dyke and eventually falls in love with a ghoul who was OBSESSED with her (also tg-headcanons' oc)

I don't have any recent Viv doodles but here's some from my uni notes. she's very round (fun to draw)