goodgriefwhatanerd

[goodgriefwhatanerd]

fuck I just need to break into a wizard’s tower and start drinking strange elixirs

#this is my medical transition plan

[goodgriefwhatanerd]

f/o(s) that genuinely cannot comprehend that you love them, at first, because it seems too good to be true… them trying to process every one of your affections, not knowing how to reciprocate or respond to your sweet words or actions maybe. whatever you do with them, even the smallest things, stays in their head for hours and hours afterwards. catching them staring a little too long or being spaced out in general from all of the thoughts of you just running in their head. all those reassurances you give them that eventually make them learn that this love really is real, finding themself hesitating a little more less, growing more and more comfortable… they wonder if you know they love you this much, too

#imagines #rat wizard #sweet star

[goodgriefwhatanerd]

I do really love the thought of taking care of my f/os, especially since they've been through so much, but I'd also really love to be taken care of. I've been through a lot. I'm tired. I'd love nothing more than to fall into someone's arms, someone who cares for me more than anything.

[goodgriefwhatanerd]

I love how bad Astarion is with his cover story. You meet him and he's like "I'm a magistrate" then he stealths, disarms a trap, double dashes and backstabs a goblin all while giggling about spilling blood and you're just like hm yeah that's the legal system for you

#my druid Thalornin watching: wow gran was not kidding about cities being hellholes #guess these are just standard skills for city dwellers

[goodgriefwhatanerd]

I find all of those cute "imagine waking up next to your f/o" and "imagine waking up to your f/o watching you sleep" posts really funny just because of how bloody blind I am. All of my f/os could be clustered on and around my bed and if they were further than an arm's length away then I would be no wiser. Hell, we'd have to be nose to nose for me to even recognise them without my glasses.

[goodgriefwhatanerd]

Soft Astarion thought since I can't write the actual fic I want to for love nor money.

Finding the drained boar so close to camp, Thalornin came to two conclusions. One, that he should carry the carcass so they don't have to waste time hunting food over the next few days. And two that the vampire must have known the party was there.

He bounces some ideas off Astarion, since he's the one who knows about vampires. Watching his expression shift through the explanation of "A vampire turns up un the forest at the same time as a nautiloid crashes, that's not a coincidence. So presumably they've got the same tadpole issue as the rest of you. And only an absolute moron would decide that a boar was an easier meal than a sleeping humanoid, so this vampire must have made a decision to leave us alone. I think they're following us, scared to reveal themself, believing that revealing their nature would be as much of a death sentence as the tadpole. Poor thing. I hope they find the courage to introduce themself."

Astarion is fully expecting to be outed. You know that I know that you know. But he says nothing and Thalornin drops the subject.

That night is haunted by Cazador. Astarion fed the campfire and watched the flames, unwilling to enter back into a trance and what it would bring. And his eyes settled upon the lump of sleeping dwarf under a travelling cloak. Maybe it was time for the vampire to be brave.

Would he have been if Thalornin didn't stir? He'd never know the answer. But by fate or luck they ended up talking until dawn, sharing a bed roll and Thalornin's blood. He'd had Astarion feed like a vampire bat - lapping from a cut rather than biting the same ragged holes as the ones that marked his own neck.

Cue Astarion having a lot of messy feelings that boil down to "Oh, I can't not fuck him."

#sweet star

[goodgriefwhatanerd]

“who do you picture this character with?”

Me. I consume all media through a self insert lens and construct vivid and elaborate imagination realms in which I am somehow centered in their arcs.

Yes sometimes this leads to our mutually assured destruction and the entire cast dies but I’m doing my best ok

#not me spending hours researching lore for every self insert i make #looking through d&d dwarvish dictionaries to get a suitable name for my bg3 self insert #not even my tav. just a dwarven druid who attached themself to the group and refused to leave

[goodgriefwhatanerd]

Astarion's Tent

Has anyone paid attention to how Astarion's tent reflect on his personality?

The exteriour side is clean and elegant. There are pillows, a carpet, an expensive mirror, even a fucking plant (headcanon - Astarion is into gardening). His tent is probably the most well-maintained in the whole camp.

But take a look inside (it's difficult since he blocks the entrance) - it's a mess.

There are empty bottles with blood (as if he is an alcoholic who doesn't bother to take out the garbage). There is no bed (Halsin is also an Elf but he has a bedrol in his tent) - it's just wooden plank, a piece of rag for a blanket and some sorry excuse for a pillow. His tent is a mess like this room who belongs to an addict or a depressed person. It's dirty, full of garbage. And he doesn't have a comfortable place for sleep!

All the good things (new and clean) he has are put out in the front to others to see. When people pass by they see this beautiful picture of a gedonist-magistrate who wants everything to be in order. Dare to look inside - it's a completely different picture.

#the man has a fucking BLANKIE #I am going to fucking CRY #sweet star

[goodgriefwhatanerd]

Confession: I would like to hold Astarion's hand, maybe even walk around with him while holding hands if he wouldn't mind, maybe even mnghhhh

[goodgriefwhatanerd]

People headcanon Astarion getting emotional/soft/weepy when you do nice things for him but may I present to you:

An Astarion who gets /mad/ about it. You wash his clothes for him while he's gone, and instead of being grateful, he asks you what you want out of it.

You bring him things you think he will like, extra loot, etc and of course he takes it and is ever so grateful... but his eyes narrow in suspicion and a frown tugs at his lips. He stares at the items, turning them over, wondering what's wrong with them.

Give me an Astarion who is always waiting 'for the other shoe to drop', who questions every kind thing you try to do, who accepts it but does not bask in your light- he winces, for it is too bright.

Give me Astarion learning how to trust your kindness with the same enthusiasm one would have going to the dentist to get a rotten tooth pulled without anesthetic.

[goodgriefwhatanerd]

“I love you.” The first time he says those simple three words, he doesn't mean it. Not really. And he knows you're aware of it too, with the stern glare you give him in response to his smug grin. He's teasing you—or, it looks that way anyway. In reality, he hopes that there's a glimmer, a sliver of your heart that welcomes his enticing and open arms. It’s routine. A habit. It feels more natural to lure you in with songs of promises than to simply tell you what he needs. He hopes you take his hand and ignore the sharp nails digging into your skin. He hopes you fall.

“I love you.” The second time is months later. He thinks he might genuinely mean it this time, considering how heavy his heart feels in his chest as the words leave his lips. But it’s hesitant. You can tell. And ever so patient, you only smile at him, taking his hand this time to squeeze it gently. Ah, that feels nice. Does he love you? Have you grown on his cold, dead heart? The fact that he doesn't want to recoil from your touch is enough if an answer..

“I love you.” The third time is at his grave. He’s confident now. Feeling. Wanting. He wishes he could hold your fingers against his skin forever. He doesn't want to even let go, because he fears you might vanish into thin air, like every other caring thing in his life. You're good. Understanding. Nothing like him. You deserve better than him. But he's always been a selfish man, and even though your presence urges him to be better, he remains selfish when it comes to you. He doesn't--no, he won’t lose you.

“I love you.” He’d feared he would never get to say the words again. He had faith in you of course, but an Elder Brain is no easy feat to defeat. But as he watches the brain sink into the darkest depths of the sea, the others cheering behind him, he feels the sun begin to prick at his skin again. It stings. Gods, does it sting. For a moment, he wonders if he should even run. He's had a taste for the sun kissed glow and he's not sure if he wants to part ways with it if it means he’ll rot away in the shadows forever. But when he feels you hurriedly toss a cloak over his shoulder, covering his face with the hood just enough for him to meet your eyes, you offer him something he doesn't want to ever imagine himself without again. Something he’s still in disbelief he has. Someone to worry for him.

I love you, I love you, I love you. As years pass, the words become more frequent, yet they never lose their weight, no matter how they're said or when. It’s funny, really, how he'd almost feared saying the same exact words just a few decades ago. To Astarion, they remind him that you're still here, allowing him the privilege to let him love you as much as he does.

“I love you.” The last time he says it, whether it be after an untimely death or simply from old age, he’s holding your hand again. He hates that instead of the adoration it’s supposed to convey, he hears more of the wobble in his voice as he realizes his time with you is up. Even though he's said it so many times, he finds that it still wasn't nearly enough. Open your eyes, he pleads to nobody in particular. He breathes. Why is he breathing? He doesn't need to. But the breaths become faster, and he realizes he’s crying too. Curses, how immature. Ah, your hand is so cold, almost like his own. He hates it. Don't be like him. And when he begs, he begs. Squeeze his hand again. Touch him again. Smile at him again. Live again.

Let him love you again.

[goodgriefwhatanerd]

Think of Astarion biting your neck, but like a vampire bat. No deep bites leaving gaping holes, just deep scratch from a canine so sharp you barely notice the pain before his tongue is on your skin, lapping the blood up like a cat. It's a slow, steady feed, no danger of over-indulgence. Instead you can just cuddle up together in your shared bedroll, your sweet Star drinking in your warmth in every way he can. Stroke his hair. Kiss him. Astarion may drink from others, but only with you can he savour what could be half an hour of this gentle intimacy.

#i am feeling a certain way about him #astarion x reader #astarion x you #i know i've got it bad when i'm considering writing a proper 2nd person fic that's just this #2nd person is hell to write but apparently only video game vampires can compel me to try it

[goodgriefwhatanerd]

imagine your f/o is SOGGY. SOPPING WET. DRENCHED AND DAMPENED. just SOAKED in water dude

#rat wizard #he's pathetic he's sopping wet he's probably just narrowly escaped death again. i adore him #the number of times rincewind ends up sopping wet in canon really is incredible #my precious little drowned rat <3

[goodgriefwhatanerd]

in light of certain things going on on this website right now i'd just like to remind everyone to

support transfem selfshippers

uplift the voices of transfem selfshippers

do not blindly believe whatever people spread about transfem selfshippers

kill transmisogynists with hammer car explosion

#misc #love to all my transfem siblings and sorry for you constantly having to see agab conflated with gender or anatomy in f/o imagines #it drives me insane seeing it when i'm trans in the other direction so imagine it's worse for you

[goodgriefwhatanerd]

[goodgriefwhatanerd]

Oh to be a little plaything for a monster, so delicate, bruising so easily that it has to be careful, oh so careful not to let its hunger for me take over. It would be straining not to dig its claws too deep, not to pull me down too far on its cock, not at all helped by my plaintive whines of pain and pleasure intertwined. Knowing that at any moment it could break me, utterly destroy me, if it lost control... And maybe, just maybe, I would try to push it over the edge, begging for it to let loose and make me feel just how deeply it wants me.

#nsft #pointy friend #nyarly

[goodgriefwhatanerd]

Good morning everyone! Today is Self-Love Day, a love that's just as important as any other type! 💝💝💝 Try to take care of yourselves a bit extra today, everyone. It's what your f/os would want! 💝 I asked you guys yesterday what you love most about your f/os, but now I wanna ask something a bit different. So...

Reblog and list what your f/os love most about YOU! 💝💝💝

And no cop-out answers, you HAVE to list something and mean it sincerely! Cuz I know for a fact all of your f/os love you and think you're the most important, wonderful person in the world 🥺💝🥺💝🥺💝 pr*sh//ip dni please

#help you're not allowed to do this to me on Discount Chocolates Day 🥺 #gonna do one physical thing and one personality thing because I will learn self love through this so help me #Rincewind loves that I give the best hugs and I'm so soft and cuddly he can actually relax sometimes when he's in my arms. #personality wise he's really glad that I get the messy brain things and also have messy brain things #we don't need to put on a facade of being okay for each other. that honesty and ease around each other #Marion's favourite thing about me is my practicality tempered with affection #I'm more gentle about dragging him out of a mental health spiral than Knell. He also loves my shoulders and general solid build. #Pious is just delighted that I'm a pretty baby faced beardless blond cinaedus who will also call him a bitch to his face. #Turns out being trans just means that I hit almost all of the male Roman beauty standards of his day. He is bisexual and weak. #Walter was brought up in a bloody weird environment and he's not 100% sure where the lines between attraction and envy are with my body #Growing up in a pregnancy centric cult will do that to ya. But he loves my kindness my silence and stroking my soft short cropped hair #Melchiah doesn't even know how to answer that question. He's in love with my enthusiasm. my mind. my skills. my laugh #my unconscious habits. every choice i've made to change my body over the centuries #how could he choose one? it could change tomorrow and he would have another favourite.