#and the reason i consider it to be bad activism is specifically that it's not trying to achieve anything

[littlenastieswewhispered]

i get that spike/spuffy antis have to hate season seven on principle (and the fact that they act like spike’s arc is entirely frivolous and unimportant is so wildly dismissive of buffy’s i don’t think they actually even like her!), but so many are straight up factually incorrect about what actually happens. i don’t know if it’s a media literacy issue or a choice to be obstinate. probably a mixture. when you want something to be a certain way, misunderstanding something gives you room to declare yourself right.

their main talking point is that ensouled spike forces his presence on buffy. this… just doesn’t happen even once in the season. at all.

spike doesn’t return to sunnydale to see buffy. he goes back to the hellmouth. probably because it’s all he knows, as a demon he considers it home, and not for nothing he’s already being controlled by the first who wants him in place for a specific purpose.

in the first episode, lessons, buffy comes across spike on her own. he’s at some of his most insane for this interaction, and he walks away from her. in the next episode, beneath you, buffy seeks spike out. she goes to the basement and can’t find him. he’s actively hiding from her.

later in the same episode he gets himself cleaned up and goes to her, for the first and only time. he says it’s because something terrible is coming and he wants to offer his help. he tells her if she doesn’t want him around, tell him and he’ll leave and she can revoke his invite (which notably is still active). she doesn’t. she accepts his help.

they talk while looking for the demon and buffy says she can tell something is different about him but she doesn’t know what. spike makes a point to say he isn’t going to tell her what it is. that’s MAJOR. spike does not want buffy to know about his soul. he doesn’t put it on her, and he doesn’t make it her problem. he ends up telling her only after it’s nearly forced out of him and he’s triggered back into insanity after a lucid period. after he reveals his soul, he leaves.

in the next episode, same time same place, buffy seeks spike out. he’s once again hiding in the basement, so she knows where to find him, but he does not go to her. she enlists his help that episode, twice.

the next episode is help. buffy goes to the basement to see spike. she asks if he knows anything about cassie. he later helps buffy save cassie from the boys trying to sacrifice her.

in the next one, selfless, buffy once again goes to spike. it’s a definite a pattern. buffy seeks out spike. it’s actually a lot like much of their relationship in season six, only much more one sided. she tells him to leave the basement because it’s bad for him.

the next episode, him, sees a big shift. it’s still buffy going to spike, but this time she doesn’t just leave him in the basement. she actively chooses to help him out of it, getting xander to let him move into his apartment. there’s a huge and important change in their dynamic now. they are solidly in each other’s lives, and that was and continues to be buffy’s choice.

i won’t do little synopses for each episode from the rest of the season, but from here spike offers to leave at minimum four additional times, half a dozen or more total all season.

he earnestly wants buffy to kill him in sleeper and never leave me, because he’s devastated and terrified that he’s killing. buffy says no, she’s going to help him and she believes in him. she rescues him, because she wants to, and moves him back into her house.

later on spike seems to be gaining back control of his mind, but when the first threatens him he once again says he’s a danger and needs to leave and buffy says no because shes not ready for him not to be here.

buffy wants spike in her life. she makes that fact extremely clear. maybe at first it wasn’t for the healthiest reasons, but a major theme of season seven is spike and buffy healing both as individuals and growing closer together because of it. their relationship empowers and strengthens buffy, and the final episode is called chosen for a reason. this season is about buffy’s agency. that starts when she decides who’s in her life and who isn’t.

there’s never a single moment where spike makes that decision for her. he doesn’t once tell buffy she has to accept him, or that he should have access to her. he doesn’t come around when she says to leave, because she doesn’t say to leave. he stays away from her until she beckons him back. over and over.

spike doesn’t think he deserves anything from buffy. he believes the opposite, even encouraging her to date and hiding his heartache about it. he doesn’t make his insanity and suffering her problem. she volunteers to help him.

i understand having issues with the writing choice of spike back in buffy’s life at all after what happened in season six, but only if you’re engaging with it honestly. you can dislike that buffy makes the choice to have spike around, but it’s obvious when you disregard her agency and pretend he’s the one calling the shots. you hate a story that didn’t happen, and it’s impossible take seriously.

#spuffy #btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #you’re the one buffy #i believe in you spike #btvs meta #rant full steam ahead #basically a subtweet to a particularly pathetic anti on insta #spuffy is endgame #buffy loves spike #and spuffies stay winning

[coconutredbulllover]

to everyone who has commented on the situation with paige and azzi id just like to say something

fans/people who actually have no clue and just know it happened and thats all don’t exactly feel the same empathy for the situation at the extent they would if they did know more, its a fact, people cant feel as bad for something if they dont know exactly what they’re feeling bad for. of course you can still feel extremely bad, a horrible and unforgivable thing happened but until you know what your actually feeling bad for its more like giving sympathy and condolences to a wall thats made of glass but its like the blurry type glass you cant really see through.

i dont reallt know if that made any sense but im basically trying to say that people who dont know and arent being informed since many people are staying silent in order to prevent spreading it, are like people who got told their dog went to a butterfly farm instead of being told it died. its like they were told a much much softer version of the real thing.

im not sure who or to what extent everyone on tumblr really knows about whats actually out there, but i just want ppl who only know the jist or general idea of what happened and even those who think they know or have seen all or most of it to know that it was actually alot that happened and the volume and extent of what happened was a really sickening thing to ever be informed of.

its insane paige was abt to come onto social media after just a weekend and be active, if you knew what i know then you would agree with me when i say paige is 100% only back on media rn to try and move peoples eyes past it and for pr reasons because thats whats best for the situation. she was most definitely not back after only a weekend ready to return to media just for the fun of it. they both are surrounded by a strong support system and while they may be smiling in the snippet of their lives we get to see, just know that putting up a strong front does not mean everything is okay and if u consider the extent of what happened it would be obvious that many signs point to them being very much not okay and that’s perfectly fine! they need time to heal from it and its not something you get over in a week. doing and feeling better doesnt mean actually being completely okay either healing takes time.

thank God its offseason and there isnt an actual full media spotlight on them right now, with how fast social media goes it likely wont be really talked about as a main focus in just a few weeks and its thankfully already starting to die down in just 1. i hope by the time the new season starts they feel alot better and the months will give them time to move past/through it and the world time to not remember or be focused on it.

im putting this on tumblr specifically because it is more of a hidden site compared to yk tiktok or twitter and likely wont spread anywhere crazy esp bc im keeping it low on actual details

#uconn wbb #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #pazzi

[allovesthings]

Devin Grayson's trauma dumping of Dick happened at the same time as the Outsiders (2003) and I think I would have loved to read Roy and Dick having a conversation after Blüdhaven is destroyed and he almost killed himself trying to save those people.

Don't get me wrong, while I really didn't like how Bruce handled it after (don't yell at your passively suicidal son that you won't forgive him if he doesn't value his own life), I get why it had to be Bruce there.Among other things, It's his judgement that has Dick spinning around in circles but I wish Roy also got a chance to have a conversation. They've really been building up Dick's declining mental health in the Outsiders. Helena is out there telling Roy that something is really clearly wrong with Dick and Roy himself has created the team specifically because he knows Dick is trying to isolate himself because of Donna's death.

In my opinion, it doesn't really culminates to anything in the Outsiders. Even Donna's return,which you would think was Dick's reason for being so bad if you read The Outsiders only and which happens in the Outsiders/Titans crossover, kinda put Dick in the backseat while focusing on Cassie and Roy. That isn't a bad thing in itself but it kinda feel like they dropped that plot a little bit (Dick does quit and come back but that's before she is back).A conversation between them could have been a catharsis or a resolution of that plotpoint, especially considering the Outsiders shows up at the end and Roy specifically tells Oracle that something is very clearly wrong with Dick after Dick knock him out right before Blüdhaven is nuked.

Also, when I first read the Devin Grayson run, one of my main criticisms (apart from all of the racism and badly handled sa and the fact that she couldn't even finish the story she wanted to tell) is that from the moment Haly circus is destroyed and Babs kicks him out of her apartment the next day until the war games, Dick is isolated and it's very weird because a lot of things happening to him are making the news (Amy is the one who seems to be there, oh and Alfred makes an appearance I guess) but after having read Outsiders, it really feels like Roy was the only one who was trying to actively help him and stop him from self-isolating (and then he got shot in the chest five times).

#the outsiders (2003) #dick grayson #roy harper #bruce wayne #nightwing #arsenal #batman #donna troy #dc #dc comics #tw: sa #tw: suicide mention #tw: suicide #trigger warning:suicide

[mostlikelyshutup]

... (absolutely useless rant in tags)

#okay im gonna rant in the tags about us politics for a sec #and remember i am just a person and my info may be flawed and i am almost definitely biased with my use of it #but ive been seeing a lot of 'trump is so much worse i dont think you remember how bad trump was' going around #as like a tactic for voting for biden #as if people considering not voting for biden are doing it for like frivolous reasons #hes funding a genocide! #thats not a funny little flaw or something to ride out #i am by no means saying vote for trump and i will say that i voted for biden last election specifically to get trump out #the people considering not voting for biden are not just doing it because because they dont agree with him completely #they are doing it specifically because of his active and meaningful policies that go against their morals and ethics #even if we take palestine out of it (which we shouldnt but for arguments sake) #hes delivered on almost zero of his promises! #like he promised to change a bunch of shit if elected and he hasnt really done anything #in fact we are in the same or worse condition nationally than we were four years ago #the difference is that democrats feel comfortable because theres a democrat in office #anyway #i think you should all vote uncommitted in your primaries #and no matter what vote when it comes to the national election for whoever you feel with do right for yourself #and your morals and ethics and whatever #k mumbles

[labyrynth]

genshin fans really will be like “i can excuse child combatants but i draw the line at young-looking adults”

#genshin #genshin impact #salt is salt #like…some of y’all are so hellbent on fake ass ‘activism’ that you’d RATHER they be child combatants than simply Not Children At All #like the issue here is twofold: #1) harassing people over ‘Bad’ ships. you should not be harassing people period. bullying people is Bad. #2) insisting that everyone else abide by your personal version of ‘canon’ #and thus declaring things problematique even though it’s ambiguous in canon #e.g. nahida is canonically 1) over 500 years old 2) small #some people claim she is a child and thus to ship her with scaramouche is Problematique. #they claim she is a child because she is small. they claim that their reason is actually because she was isolated for most of that time. #but that is not actually the reason. bc ‘created by a predecessor god with intent but was never able to grow into the role meant for them-> #-> because an outside influence stepped in specifically in an attempt to groom them to suit their own purposes -> #ultimately preventing them from developing and isolating them from anyone who could become their peer’ #yeah that applies to both nahida and scaramouche. #the ONLY reason people claim that nahida is a child is because she is small. #like. i don’t ship it but i can see the appeal! #but for the love of fuck just. stop coming up with arbitrary standards of what you consider Bad and then moving the goalposts constantly #and for the love of GOD just leave people alone!!! it’s that easy!!!! #you go ‘well that’s just none of my business’ and block them and scroll away!!

[genderqueerdykes]

as someone who has been scarred for life by experiences at gay bars, i need people to understand it's beyond tacky to mock people who want queer spaces beyond queer bars- it's dangerous.

let me explain. i went to 2 of my local queer bars a lot last year, as much as i was able to despite being poor. i witnessed a fist fight that was so bloody that ended up with a transmisogynistic drag queen getting hit in the head with a metal baton. the sight caused me to uncontrollably throw up in the bathroom of the club because of how gruesome it was. they had to close down the club and forard people out the back door because of how out of hand this person got- he was screaming transmisogynstic slurs and phrases at the bouncers were were transfem.

i was also sexually assaulted at these places, i was repeatedly groped by several people who i was not interacting with in the first place who found me attractive and decided physically grabbing me on numerous occasions was the way to get my attention. being femme in a queer bar is dangerous even if the people groping you are gay men.

i am also a recovering addict who dealt with alcohol issues in the past and could be considered a recovering alcoholic. i don't want to be around alcohol. i don't want to smell it. it triggers awful memories and also sometimes makes me consider getting a drink, but i can't have one, because the medications i take will cause a fatal reaction- i don't want to be tempted to drink, because it will kill me.

it's not right to mock someone or call them childish or whatever for not wanting to go to a club. whenever alcohol is involved, people's inhibitions are gone and they will do whatever. this includes fighting. i witnessed several other fights. just because it's a queer bar doesn't mean there won't be fights. and it especialyl doesn't m ean that you won't get groped or assaulted because, like i said, since alcohol is involved and it's a bar, there's a high chance this can and will happen.

queer people are not inherently safe angels to be around by virtue of being queer. there are still transphobes in queer bars. tranny chasers come to these bars. homophobic lesbians show up and lesbophobic gay men show up. drag queens and performers bring their cishet friends and family to support their shows. these are not perfect havens. they are not safe. we should not force other queers to interact with inherently dangerous spaces if these are supposed to be our safe spaces.

also these spaces are not friendly to people with disabilities; wheelchair users have nowhere to go especially when it's very crowded. other mobility aids get kicked and knocked over. neurodivergent people can get overstimulated by the deafening music very quickly. photosensitive people can have seizures due to the strobing lights. people with emetophobia like me run the risk of running into those types of triggers. people who are overstimulated by intoxicated people have no choice but to deal with it. dancing is one of the only activities to do other than drink and not many disabled (or even abled) people can dance for extended periods of time comfortably.

not to mention these spaces are not geared toward aromantic or asexual people at all, either. there is a long list of reasons why bars should not be our primary venues of interaction with one another. they serve a specific purpose- for people who want to cruise- but for the rest of us, it's really crucial that we have spaces that provide meaningful interactions with other queers on other levels of our identities.

some people just want to hang out with other queers in a quiet environment and craft, or shop, or drink coffee, or read books together, or just about any other activity on planet earth, and that's not "lame" or "cringy" or bad in any way- these are extremely normal and necessary parts of human interaction that we all require and crave and it's normal to want to do healthy, domestic things with other queers. we need this in our lives.

please take it seriously when people attempt to create queer spaces that don't involve alcohol and bars. it's necessary for our survival and well being as a community.

#lgbtqia #lgbtq #lgbt #queer #gay #lesbian #bisexual #aromantic #asexual #trans #transgender #non binary #nonbinary #enby #ftm #trans man #trans men #trans boy #trans girl #trans woman #trans women #trans lady #transfemme #transfeminine #transfem #transmasculine #transmasc #genderqueer #gnc #drag

[avelera]

PSA: You should question news articles that make you not want to vote

Hey Tumblr friends, but especially young Americans in this, the year of our Lord 2024.

Unfortunately, it is an election year.

Unfortunately, a US election year becomes everyone's problem, and yes everyone else, we are very very sorry that you have to deal with our nonsense.

But in all seriousness, the level of propaganda that's going to be flung around on all sides is going to reach peak levels this year for the English-speaking internet in particular. There's going to be a lot of influence operations, on all sides, and yes including on sides you agree with but they are still influence operations.

Source: I am speaking as a cybersecurity professional who also did a great deal of work in election security.

So, here's what I am going to ask you to do. What I am going to beg you to do: be careful of any article that makes you think there's no point in voting.

That's it. I'm not going to tell you who to vote for, or how to think, or that you should trust or distrust every article out there. I don't care about that. I care about whether or not it makes you think you shouldn't vote.

A lot of influence operations are about making you feel like there's no point. That both sides are just as bad as the other. The the election is falsified. That you can "protest" by not voting (false: you will simply not be counted and your voice will be ignored). All sorts of reasons not to vote.

No matter what you do, what you believe, or who you trust, you really really have to vote this year, and every year, and you need to not listen to articles that say there's no point because among those articles are in fact active foreign influence campaigns trying to promote one side or the other for their own reasons, I am deadly serious right now.

(More context, sources, and examples sources below the cut.)

In 2016, Russian influence operations were focused on tearing down Hillary in order to specifically depress voter turnout among young men of color in the belief that this would help Trump get elected.

From the article: "“Buried literally in the middle of the indictment is a paragraph that should jar every American committed to the long fight for voting rights,” Anders wrote in a statement. “The Russians allegedly masqueraded as African-American and American Muslim activists to urge minority voters to abstain from voting in the 2016 election or to vote for a third-party candidate.”

This is the flavor of influence campaign that has been proven, that does exist, and is the sort of thing that does numbers here on Tumblr.

Things like the situation in Gaza, for example, are incredibly fraught situations. Articles don't even need to lie about facts on the ground there to make people feel hopeless and angry. Again, I am not telling you who to trust or not trust when it comes to news sources. But if an article about this event, for examples, makes you think or even outright tells you, "There's no point to voting, both sides are awful, I just shouldn't bother." You need to pause and at least consider that this might be an influence operation. You need to think critically. You need to check sources. You need to think about the world you want to live in, to vote for, and who might not want that world to happen for any variety of reasons.

Protesting by failing to vote isn't a real thing.

Old politicians ignoring young voters because they famously do not bother to vote is absolutely 100% a real thing. It is why so many policies that are popular with young people are low priority for politicians: they are not afraid of losing the young vote because no one plans on having it in the first place when it's never there in big enough numbers to matter.

So please, please, read what you want. Believe what you want. Follow your heart and your brain and whatever other organ you want to think with. I'm not here to tell you who is right, wrong, trustworthy, good, or bad. I'm just here to tell you that despite all of that, whatever you read, you must vote in your elections, no matter where you are in the world and you must not listen to voices that tell you not to as a protest.

#politics #us politics #maybe I'll regret this maybe no one will read it idk

[thatbadadvice]

Dear Advisor,

I tend to be a very reserved and shy person so making friends is super hard. Recently I’ve been wanting to socialize more , but I genuinely don’t know how. Is there any advice that you have that can make me look more approachable and not be scared to talk to people. I’m so stressed about being alone and not having any friends, but I just find it so hard to go up to people and make a conversation. I tried once but it became super awkward. I just really need good advice from someone on how to approach a person and continue a conversation.

Dear Awkward Anonymous,

It would be so easy to get into a whole deep let's-skeetshoot-therapy-on-the-internet session and try to help a total stranger unpack all of the GA-FUCKING-ZILLION ways in which social awkwardness shows up in a person's life. It seems easy, and it even seems meaningful and worthwhile, but to do so I would have to presume a bunch about your life, and make a bunch of assumptions about the ways in which my own experiences maybe/probably track with yours, and it would be a whole big wank-fest, and frankly ... it would be awkward. I'd be like you, standing there at the party, hoping that what I'm saying resonates or lands or even vaguely tracks with anything a stranger has ever known or experienced, presuming (probably rightly!) that it doesn't, and then flailing and blaming myself when I didn't emerge from the interaction with all the world's gold stars.

So here's what: stop talking to other people as a primary social occupation. Going up to people and just talking is fucking terrifying. The Bad Advisor says this as a Certified Extrovert™ who rarely shuts the fuck up.

Instead, find a thing to do with other people that involves some sort of task or goal or activity. Talk about the thing you're doing together, when you're doing it. If it feels okay, maybe introduce one or two of your own relatable-to-the-activity experiences in the process. See who picks up on it. Ask the people who pick up on it genuinely interested questions in response. This is what we awkward people call: engineering a conversation. It is the way, I am told, humans make connections with other humans. I have seen it work in my own life.

Depending on where you live and your ability level and skill set, I bet you have some options! You could seek out an open board game night, pub quiz session, knitting/quilting circle, or mutual aid meetup that's looking for volunteers. Especially look for social activities with strangers that involve a dedicated, pre-prescribed activity (such as a hiking or mall-walking group, stuffing envelopes for a political candidate or cause you care about, planting trees at your local park, or tasting tea/wine/beer/etc.). (Somebody is going to say join a ballroom dancing club or suchlike; I am personally terrified of this, but if you have a higher tolerance for strangers touching you and fewer than two left feet: it's literally an option. Line-dancing, on the other hand ... absofuckinglutely.)

Even if what's available in your area isn't your precise and specific interest, it might be worthwhile to check out something you are decidedly meh about -- you might not be the only meh person there. You can bond over shit that's boring or shitty with other people who find it boring or shitty! Some of my best friends, arguably my very best friends, came out of experiences we mutually loathed or found at least moderately and mutually miserable.

Consider especially finding an activity where you yourself are the manager of operations and/or have a designated task to take care of that is unique to your position! This doesn't have to be complicated or skill-dependent; can you become a voter registrar in your area? Well, bam! You've got paperwork people have to fill out and a good reason to jibber-jabber with folks who have to ask you the questions. Other ideas: join your local neighborhood association board, become a notary public, or see if your local pet rescue is looking for intake line volunteers. Do you have a trustworthy, especially outgoing friend who might agree to play "social glue" for you a couple of times at their activity-centric events? Make it explicit! Ask them if they'll play friendly wing-person for you at their D&D game, fantasy sports league, or some such.

Alternately: Do you have a unique and fun and shareable skillset you can share with others? Are you pretty good at drawing, programming? Simply a font of endless Merlin or NFL or Real Housewives knowledge? You might start a local Discord or other online social group to discuss and share your interests, then move it to the real world in a few weeks once folks get comfortable. You get the idea.

Most of all: Look for stuff that has more-than-just-talking opportunities available outside the designated group jam for you to maintain connections. Perhaps a group chat, a Discord, a Slack, what-have-you, where you can take more time to consider and draft your responses and posts? Connections with humans get made a thousand ways, and talking raw-dog with strangers is but one.

It takes a true social unicorn to be simply good at talking and only talking to other people. There are some of these one-horned wonders out there, to be sure — but let me assure you that the vast majority of folks want to be accepted and seen just as much as you do, and they're staring at the ceiling at night thinking just as much (more, probably) about all the weird, wonky shit they themselves threw at you than they are anything you ever said to them.

#good advice #good advice interlude #socializing #awkward #introvert problems #shy #shyness #get out there we're all fucking squares

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Kidnapped Astarion

I have a very specific thing I can't stop thinking about. That involves Astarion getting kidnapped by Cazador for the ritual and him taunting him over the lie that Tav gave him away. Sold him even.

Tw: Lies, manipulation, mentions of torture, bad times had all around, it's long as fuck, betrayal (or at least the lie of it). Like Cazador is involved so all bad. Very bad. This also has VIOLENCE. Like canon game violence but it is BLOODY. You've been warned. Also happy ending :)

So now let's get to that angst:

It had all happened so fast.

One moment Astarion was laid back in the tent you share, reading a mediocre book as he impatiently waited for your return. He loathed when you went out without him, even if it was for good reason. He wasn't exactly welcome company when it came to solving Gale's problems, especially when it came to the bomb nestled in chest. You both knew his inability to keep his sarcastic quips to himself would not be an asset while exploring a sacred library. Besides, he didn't have much room to complain, not when he accompanied you on ninety-nine percent of your outings.

But that didn't mean he had to like it. Even if it was shaping up to be a nice, uneventful evening. He had set your tent a little farther away from the others, considering the complaints that some....well most had made about the volume of your nightly activities. It was quiet, peaceful even. The atmosphere tranquil enough for him to fully relax.

What a mistake that had been.

When the flap of the tent opened he didn't even look up, fully expecting it to be Shadowheart or Lae'zel coming round to dig about in his darling's things. It made sense, considering how it was one of the few times they wouldn't be risking walking in on something. You had such a bad habit with that "open door" policy of yours. One that had exposed nearly every party member to quite the show. Though in Astarion's view, they were just unreasonable. When you were both loud they complained. When you were quiet and they walked in on it they would whine even more. How could you win with people like that?

Perhaps a sign on the door would have done the trick, but Astarion would be lying if he didn't enjoy the others being fully aware of who could make you cry and moan. The risk was just more thrilling, if not the slightest bit annoying.

But the intruder was staying still at the opening, quiet as could be. It was odd enough to have Astarion glancing upward, his heart stopping in his chest at what he saw.

It was a man, frantically muttering something under his breath. A man that he recognized. The idiotic Petras, trying to cast some kind of incantation. It had Astarion scrambling upward, reaching for his dagger. But it was already too late. The spell was finished and Astarion could feel his senses start to fade away, one by one.

He had gotten sloppy, relying on the safety of camp that had never existed. And now he was paying the price, and what a price to pay. Even as he fell to the magic, one feeling managed to stay in place until the bitter end.

Terror.

And then, he felt nothing at all.

The next thing Astarion knew he was being awakened by a slap of cold water to his face, blinking up into horrifyingly familiar light. He immediately recognized where he was. The torture room, his arms hanging from the ceiling, his toes barely scraping the floor. It hurt to be suspended like this, a pain he was still so familiar with despite going months without. And in front of him was the cause of it all, sneering at him like the maniac he was.

Cazador.

"You're finally awake," He grinned, dropping the bucket that was in his hands, "You've been a very bad boy Astarion. Just what am I to do with you?"

Astarion wanted to answer, to curse at him, maybe even beg to just be left alone, but nothing came out. He was too stunned, too stupefied that he ended up here after everything he'd gone through. Everything you'd gone through. How could it end like this?

"I don't fully know what you were up to with all that time away from your family," Cazador continued, stepping close enough for Astarion to feel his disgusting breath on his skin, "But I think I may have the gist. Galivanting around with your merry-band of degenerates. Seems fitting."

Astarion gave a full-bodied flinch when Cazador started to graze along his collarbones with a gentle finger, his touch freezing and revolting. The gentleness wouldn't last, Astarion was surprised it was even there to begin with.

He should have realized there was a reason for it.

He trailed up his neck, stopping to trace a bruise you had left the night before. If only he had known that it was almost certainly the last time he would get to touch you. The realization was nearly enough to bring tears to Astarion's eyes, but he refused to cry in front of this creature, not if he could help it.

"Seems like you may have even found yourself a favorite amongst them. Tell me pet, who was it?"

"Fuck you." Astarion spat out, his fury managing to shine through his despair.

Astarion expected a hard slap for the insolence, but instead Cazador just laughed, loud and full-bellied, "You've gotten quite the temper since you've been away, haven't you? I wonder where that came about?"

It was a false question, Astarion could tell from the way his eyes were crinkled. Like a child excited to reveal a surprise. Cazador answered it for himself, "Is it that lovely little thing that you've been following around. Gods, what's their name again...Tav, is it?"

"Don't you dare say her name," Astarion growled, his righteous fury overcoming the ever-growing terror and dread, "They have nothing to do with this!"

"Oh but they do," Cazador grinned, stepping back to do one of his famous gloating sessions, "Just how do you think I found you? Luck? No my dear, you were given."

Astarion's answer was as immediate as it was hateful, "You're lying! You know nothing of them. Nothing of us."

He won't believe it, he has no reason to. You...you loved him. And you were probably looking for him as they spoke. You would never betray anyone like this, least of all him.

But Cazador remained unphased. If anything he was looking at him with pity, "Oh you poor thing. You think she cares? You think she loves you? I'm disappointed Astarion, it seems you've learned nothing from our time together. What is there to love, hm? Nothing that I can see. Though...they sure did seem to love the gold. You fetch quite the high price my dear. But it will be worth it."

Lies. It was all lies. It had to be. Astarion shoved his uncertainty back down, bellowing out, "Liar!"

It was forceful enough to even make Cazador falter for the briefest of moments, a split second that anyone else would have missed. But he pressed on, shaking his head, "Darling, don't you find it strange that you were all alone that day? That no one came to your aid? Where do you think you're love was, hm? Wait, don't tell me. I can remember...ah yes! With Gale, correct?"

Astarion swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. How...how did he know that?

"It was a fabulous excuse, was it not?" Cazador continued with a laugh, "We came up with that one together. After a little fun that is. I can see why you fell for their treachery Astarion, they are quite lovely, aren't they?"

No. No, no, no.

"Stop it," Astarion hissed, "Shut your mouth. I-It's not true."

"Oh but it is. I'm not sure if you're aware but you're quite the headache darling, not many can handle it. Not including myself. She even told me of that hilarious speech you gave. About wanting something real. It was just as funny to her as it was to me."

Astarion stared at him, at a complete loss for words. It couldn't be true. It couldn't. But...how else would he know that? In a camp full of people why did no one come to his aid? But the cruelty of it all...it was exactly the type of thing Cazador was versed in.

Setting up the same type of trap that he'd trained Astarion for, that he had used on others countless times. And he fell for it, he lost the game he thought he'd mastered.

His faith was slipping, hard and fast when he asked the horrible question, "How do you know that?"

"Because I sent them to you," He said with that disgusting grin, "It was no coincidence that you met. You were kidnapped, I needed you back, so I hired some help. It's a pity that they were captured as well. The pause to our plans was quite inconvenient. Our Tav just can't help but get distracted, can she?"

"No..." The word slipped out of Astarion without his consent, his mind racing. That couldn't be true. It didn't make sense. T-There had to be another explanation. If he could just think he'd find it. But...what point was there? He was already captured, taken. If anything, all of this being a grand scheme from Cazador was more logical than someone loving him.

He had gone through many, many tortures during his time here. Unspeakable, horrible things that he would never wish on anyone, excluding the man in front of him. But this...this was the worst thing he'd ever done to him. He had tricked him, you had tricked him, and he whole-heartedly fell for it, like the fool he was. The fool he would die as.

He didn't know it was possible, but this would be the greatest pain he ever knew. He was sure of that. Cazador had managed to do it. He had broken him, finally.

His tears were falling on their own accord, plentiful and pathetic. Cazador cooed at him, tracing his cheek with his horrid hand, "It hurts, doesn't it? I missed that expression on you my boy. You were always at you're prettiest when you had given up."

He wiped Astarion's tears away, gently holding his face as he spoke, "If only this was enough. The things I want to do to you for running away... I want to make you scream, make you beg for death. Just like how things used to be. If only we had the time."

Cazador let go, stepping back with a sigh, "How I wish that they had gotten you to me earlier. Though it's too late to pout about it now, the preparations are almost complete. But don't fret my boy, your end will have the meaning that your life failed to posses. Come along now."

Astarion hung there, limp as Cazador unhooked him from above. This was it. He was going to die here, as nothing but a pawn. He didn't even try to fight it when he was led down, deep into the palace to a place he'd never known existed. He kept his eyes closed for most of the journey, simply for the fact that he didn't have the strength to keep them open.

It was...a horrendous feeling to be incased in that red energy, floating in the air with all of his brothers and sisters as Cazador finished his preparations. It forced his eyes open against his will, making him see the hell that had been hiding beneath his feet all these years. He had been wrong about the sacrifice it seemed, it wasn't just them. There were thousands of bodies, barely alive in hanging cages, strewn throughout the place.

It was horrible, but fitting. Where else would something like him die? All he wished was that Cazador would hurry, so he could be done with it all. He has to much time to think in these last moments, too much time to examine your betrayal.

He...hates you. For it all. He hates you more than anything, enough for that same fury to come bubbling back to the surface. How dare you do this to him, after everything you'd been through. He should have killed you while you slept, while you let him drink from your throat. He should have killed them all, the vile sacks of shit.

If his soul ever found it's way back from the hell it was about to be damned too, he'd find you. His revenge was no longer reserved for Cazador, but for the wretched bitch hat tortured him in ways he didn't even think were possible. He'd do worse to you than anyone could imagine.

You were the cruelest thing to ever exist, as heartless and horrid as the monster before him.

So why was he still crying over it?

It didn't matter anyway. Not now. Now, all he could do was wait for the bitter end.

But then...he felt something. A familiar presence tickling the back of his mind. A barely there whisper, no words that he could make out. But it was getting stronger. Clearer.

It...it was you. Calling out to him with your illithid connection, begging for an answer.

My love, where are you? Astarion please, please tell me your there. Help me find you.

He can scarcely believe it. But he wasn't going to wait for his emotions to catch up to what could be an escape. He was screaming in his brain, trying to send out any signal that he could.

I'm here. I'm here. Don't let him take me. Please.

He could hear you in his head, the sheer relief from your mind nearly overwhelming, I'm coming. Hold on, I'm coming.

Astarion didn't even have the time to doubt. Because the next moment you were bursting through the ornate doors, nearly your entire team in tow.

Astarion had never seen you look the way you did then. He was so used to your kindness, the warmth and light that you tried to spread everywhere you went. You were always smiling, always laughing, always trying to share the same with others.

But now you were breathing hard, near feral in your posture as your eyes darted around, landing straight to the shocked Cazador. You looked murderous, vicious enough to send a shiver down Astarion's spine. Your teeth were bared, your whole body trembling with rage as you started to advance, weapons already drawn.

And in that moment Astarion was sure that you were the most gorgeous, perfect thing he had ever seen. Or ever would.

It was brutal, bloody battle. One that ended with you slitting Cazador's throat as Astarion watched in awe. You let the body fall to the ground, blasé before you finally ran to him, releasing him from his prison.

Then he was being pulled into the most crushing hug of his entire life. One that he was helpless to return. He clung to you, uncaring for their rather large audience.

He was too busy burying his face into your hair, breathing you in as you whispered into his shoulder, "Thank the Gods that you're still here."

The pain in your voice was so raw, so real. Astarion needed no other evidence to be sure that every word from the dead man's lips had been a lie. He was also positive that he had never cried this much in his life, but now it was a different kind of sob he was trying to choke back. The flood of relief was crushing, the truth that your love was real was nearly enough to destroy him all over again. Not for cruelties sake, but to make something new. To kill every last doubt he had that he was nothing, worthless. How could he be when you were here? When you came for him?

He pulled back reluctantly, smiling down at you with tear tracks on his face. He kissed your forehead, covered in sweat and blood, and gods knows what else.

It was all finally over. You both turned to the rest of the group, your hands clasped together as you made your way to where Cazador lay dead. It was satisfying to see, but such a shame that Astation wasn't the one to do the deed. A regret he'd have for the rest of his days.

Or so he thought.

But then you were turning to Shadowheart, your sweet face curling back into the disgust from earlier when you ordered, "Revive him."

Astarion watched, wide-eyed as she did what she was told. Cazador came back into consciousness, in what looked to be an extremely unpleasant experience. He was coughing blood, the spell doing just enough to mend his mortal wounds, but not nearly powerful enough to give him a fraction of his strength back. He stared upwards, his eyes wide at the sight of you lording over him.

And for the first time in two hundred years, Astarion saw fear in the other man's eyes. Wonderfully delicious fear.

He felt you squeeze his hand as he stared at him, speaking quietly, "He's yours. To do with what you please. Do...do you want us here for this?"

He could hear the hidden meaning in your words. This wasn't just a choice of what to do with him. It was a choice of what to do with them all. He had taken notice that he was the only one that you had freed, his brethren still suspended in air.

He turned to you, his voice strong for the first time since he'd come back to this pit, "I want you here for this."

You nodded before looking back to the others to tell them to wait outside. They did so reluctantly, obviously without confidence in his decision making abilities. He ignored the especially worried look Karlach sent his way, too focused on the piece of vampiric trash in front of him.

Cazador was still coughing, his mouth forming more vile words, "Y-You don't have to do this. I can-"

"Silence," Astation seethed, partly surprised when it worked to shut him up. But then again, he had never been placed in a position to see his master be the one without an escape, "Your life is in my hands now. Tell me the truth. How did you find me?"

Astarion could see the fury behind his eyes, the humiliation of being ordered around by his own spawn. But his desire for life won out in the end.

"Luck," he spat out, "Sheer luck. Yomen saw you in the city, at Shar's Caress with this one. He followed you, found your camp and reported back. I sent Dalyria and Petras to fetch you, gave them a powerful sleeping scroll to knock out your allies. And then you were mine again."

Astarion shouldn't have been surprised that he had the audacity to glare at Tav, seething, "Or at least you would have been."

"And my memories?" Astarion pressed, "How did you know of us?"

"The tadpole squirming behind your eyes doesn't change the fact that I am your master," Cazador said, "Your mind is mine to shape, to understand. It was more difficult than before, yes. But I had enough to know what to say."

Of course. He should have known, "So that was your last torture then?"

"Yes," Cazador said simply, a sneer managing to appear on his bloodied face, "And you have to admit, it worked wonderfully."

"You can kill him now if you'd like," You piped up from his side, staring down at the vampire like the trash he was, "Or...you can take his place."

You hesitated for a brief moment before steeling yourself, looking Astarion in the eye, "Whatever you choose, I'll be here for you. I promise."

Astarion nodded, weighing his options. It was so very difficult to not just kill him where he laid, like the pathetic dog he was. But then again...the ritual would mean endless power. Power that he could use to protect himself, to protect you. So nothing like this could ever happen again.

Astarion looked up, his eyes searching every last one of his brothers and sisters faces. They looked scared, perhaps even resigned to their fate. Just at the hands of another. Astarion hadn't expected the image to make him feel ill, yet it did.

Could he do it? Sacrifice them all, along with everyone else trapped in the bowels of their personal hell? He could. He knows he could. Yet...

He looked back at you, the only thing he had ever loved. The one person to show him a different way to live, who was giving him the freedom to be his own person. But... he wanted that person to be someone worthy of you. Someone who would make you proud.

And there was only one way to do that. Astarion let go of your hand, reaching for the dagger you kept at your belt before striding over to Cazador. He stabbed him with little fanfare, no warning, no chances to beg. And then he did it again, and again, and again. Until he lost count, until the body of his former master was mutilated, his chest nothing but unrecognizable gore.

He wasn't quite sure when he started crying again. He only realized it when he could barely breath through his own screams, every bit of rage, hurt, and humiliation that had been beaten into him coming straight to the surface. He sunk to his knees as he sobbed, tossing the knife to the side.

The whirlwind inside of him was too much, so overwhelming that he was afraid he'd be lost to it. But then he could feel it, you wrapping your arms around him, kneeling next to him as he broke down.

He clung to you, burying his face into your neck as he cried, desperate for your comfort, your touch. You were crying too he realized, your voice breaking as you gently spoke to him, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I should have been there to protect you. I love you, you did the right thing. I'm sorry."

You had nothing to apologize for, but that didn't stop your words from acting like a soothing balm to all of his internal wounds. But he would get through this. Because for the first time Astarion knew, without a shadow of a doubt he wouldn't have to get through it alone. With you by his side, he would never be alone again.

He wasn't sure how long you both spent there, kneeling in a pool of his tormentors blood. But he knew he felt different when he pulled away, changed.

Free.

He cupped your face, wiping away your tears while only managing to smear the mess about. But it didn't matter that you were both covered in blood and viscera, not when he had you.

"I love you too," Astarion whispered, finally allowing himself to unload the burden of hiding away from you. No more of that. He was yours, fully and completely, "I love you so much. I-I thought that this was it. That I'd never see you again. That you betrayed me-"

"Never," You interrupted, your voice fierce despite how it was breaking, "I never will. You're all I want, all I need. I should have been there, I'm so sorry-"

"No more apologies," Astarion murmered, pressing a quick kiss to your bloody mouth, "No more. We're here. That's all that matters."

You nodded, kissing him again, so sweet despite everything that should have made it sour. Despite his own words, Astarion couldn't help the white hot shame that passed through him. How could he have doubted you, even for a moment? Doubted this, the most beautiful that ever happened to him. Never again would he question what you had together, to let his mind be poisoned by others.

But there would be more time for the two of you later. The rest of your lives if he had anything to say about it. But for now...you freed him. And it was his turn to do the same.

Astarion pulled back, sighing as he looked around the room at his brethren. They were still hanging in the air, all privy to quite the show. He freed them, forgave them even, despite every horrid thing they'd done to eachother over the years.

But that didn't stop him from clocking Petras squarely in the face the second his feet touched the floor. The other man took it well enough, fully knowing that Astarion was capable of much, much worse. Though he was well aware that Petras had been compelled to kidnap him, it didn't change the fact that the punch was very satisfying.

As for the rest of the spawn, the thousands trapped here, he let them go as well. Down to the Underdark, where they could at least have a chance of controlling their feral nature before associating with mortals again.

Then it was time to leave this wretched place, forever. He would never be hurt here again, never controlled. He was free, finally. And with you by his side, what else could he ever ask for?

#astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 cazador #hes such a piece of shit #but I feel like this is something he would totally do #happy ending #but god damn that was rough #angst #a lot of angst #its there #front and center #long fic #you'll pry my long posts out of my cold dead hands #im feeling spawn astarion man #i started this side blog for the ascended version but... #spawn is bae #female tav

[gremlingottoosilly]

Cabin in the woods (yan!Konig x fem!Reader x yan!Horangi)

You and your friend group are definitely not a part of a typical slasher movie. Two weird guys you met at the corner store somewhere in rural Austria definitely not serial killers. You are definitely going to be saved. You are definitely not going to like being their little trophy.

TW: Yandere, Age gap(Reader in her early 20, murder husband in their late 30), Serial Killers, Mild Gore, Extreme dub-con(Bordering cnc), Blood, Horror, Kidnapping

CHAPTER 1 You meet two weird locals at the corner store in a city in the middle of Austrian woods. Your timid nature is going to be your downfall.

Come to the woods, your assholes-of-a-friend said. Come on, he said, I know that for someone like you, dwelling in some shitty forest for three or more days only to drink mediocre beer and probably have even more mediocre sex while mosquitos are biting at your vagina sounds like your worst nightmare, but! Have you considered it could be fun? 

Yeah, you have considered it. Considered it, thought about it and already decided not to engage with the idea. Spending the holiday in your own country, your own city and by your computer was far better than running around some random Austrian forest – and so you decided to kinda…ditch the idea. 

Considering what happened in the next few days, you really should have been more true to your words. 

Because you agreed to the proposition – because you don’t want to antagonize your friends, because you already feel strained from them, because they are assholes and they continue to be assholes but they are the only ones you have. Maybe you shouldn’t rot in your room, maybe you should agree to spend Spring break with them, getting drunk in the woods and maybe chasing some wild boars across the place. 

— Sorry. 

Some asshole – not the friend one, just an asshole in general, like everyone else in this fucking country that is so stuck up at being in the woods and mountains, that you are literally going to be sick – took the last remaining bottle of coke that was still left on the shelve. You were not having it because it was almost night already, the last remaining store open in the area, and you needed your sugar fix and something to mix alcohol with so you wouldn’t get drunk and stupid immediately. 

You aren’t letting go of the bottle. 

The guy doesn’t let go either. 

— Sorry, I think I got it first. 

You hate how weak your voice is. Never be the active, social one of your friends, you’re stuck being just a dumb girl who has literally everyone walking all over her. You decided to dig your heels into the ground and sent this asshole where he belongs – so, your grip on the bottle intensifies. 

— Haven’t seen you. 

He tugs the bottle back to him – and he has some arm strength, surprisingly for someone in this town. To be quite honest, you are too intimidated by his deep, annoyed voice to even consider looking at him, so you don’t know what the guy looks like. Maybe it’s an MMA champion – celebrity shop at some weird corner stores in abandoned Austrian cities too. 

— I am very sorry, but I really, really need this bottle. 

You don’t, actually. There are multiple bottles of Pepsi right here, and not like you have a very specific preference for the drink that is bad for you. You just got tired of people walking all over you, tired of your friends that constantly getting you into their shenanigans without asking for your opinion and you just want something good happening to you at least once. So, you tug the bottle back to you, and press it against your chest, hoping that whoever this man is will get the memo and get the fuck away from you until you’ll get your pepper spray. Ah, right, you forgot to bring one…well, he doesn’t have to know about that. 

— What do you need this bottle for? 

— Important reasons. Secret reasons.

The man sneered and you finally got a good look at him. And…fuck. 

Tall, broad, maybe more on the leaner side, but you can clearly see his tight muscles that form this perfect, thin type of masculinity that makes you think about greet athletes and that weird webtoon you were occasionally reading because you don’t have anything better to do with your life. You lick your lips, nervously, suddenly aware of the fact that you wear some old hoodie, battered jeans, and exactly zero makeup – you were supposed to get chased by the bears in the forest, not a meet-cute annoying strangers. 

He is Korean if little doodles on his jacket and an accent are saying the truth. You force yourself to get your gaze away from the mask that was covering more than half of his face, black glasses that obstruct the view even more, and messy black hair – the only thing about his appearance that you can actually see. 

Maybe, it’s good that you can’t see his face – you need to get out of here, preferably with a bottle of coke and some other snacks before your friends start questioning why the only person who didn’t want to go is so reluctant about leaving the store. Besides, it’s already almost closing time and you need to gather your thoughts. With a deep sigh, you push the bottle closer to you. 

But this time, he didn’t humor you with softness. He kept it close to himself and suddenly, you are very aware of how much weaker you are than him. You could put up a good fight against a mouse, maybe, a squirrel on a good day – but in this tugging match, you were no, pun intended, match for him. You look closely at his cargo jacket – the patches look official, normal, making you think about the military and what the fuck Korean soldier is doing in the small town somewhere in the rural, touristy-foresty-mountainy part of Austria. 

— Please, sir, it’s getting silly. 

— Yes, it is. Give up now. 

He has that weird calmness in his voice – a low grumble that makes you shiver, the urge to just give up your control and present him your neck like a good pet makes you want to vomit. God, it’s humiliating – you just hope that your friends won’t be here to witness your utter humiliation. 

— I really, really need this bottle. Please? 

You master your best puppy eyes, looking at him with a half-lidded gaze, hoping he has at least a somewhat working and aching heart inside of his lean, muscular chest. The dark glasses of his don’t allow you to see his face clearly, but you can feel how he slowly eyes you from head to toe, slowing down at how much your hands are trembling at the confrontation. 

In a normal situation, you would give up already. But this isn’t a normal situation – you wanted to learn how to be brave, independent, and stand up for yourself in small things, even if your friends still going to swirl you around into making dumb decisions. 

— I was the first to grab it. Why should I give it to you? 

His voice is mesmerizing – you didn’t expect something as deep from a random stranger in the corner shop and here you are, embarrassed, cheeks heated because you want to ditch your friends and look at the random guy you just met. Ah, the tragedy of meeting someone remotely attractive and closer to your age – or at least looking like it – in a mundane place so that the horny thoughts would make room inside your head. 

— Because this would cheer me up really nice, sir. 

You master even puppier eyes – and you lick your lips some more, hoping to elongate the point of how shitty your day was, and how nice it would be, just to have a bottle of coke to cheer you up. Man lets go of a grumpy noise, shaking his head. 

“Fucking tourists” he mutters – and you feel even more embarrassed immediately. If anything, he is probably a tourist too! 

— Sir? So the coke-stealer has manners after all. 

His laugh is dry, and you want to take the bottle and leave – but when you yank it closer, he doesn’t let go. If anything, he grabs it even firmer, thin plastic deforms under his touch, and the tactical gloves he is wearing are only empathizing with the vast difference between you and him. 

— I’m not a coke-stealer. I had dibs on this bottle. 

He stares at you, tilting his head to the side. You look stubborn, like an angry little kitten – and, god fucking dammit, Horangi loved cats. Always wanted to get one or two, adorable furballs that would lay on him and Konig, maybe destroy the wildlife around their house. he loved cats and never had time to take care of them because of their combined jobs – so when he looks at this stubborn little woman – little more in her posture than actual size – he feels all the desire to take a kitten home gets straight into his pants. 

He has to find Konig. Ah, and get the bottle back. 

— Dibs don’t matter if you can’t even hold it. So, the bottle is mine. 

— Sir, if anything, this bottle can’t belong to you yet. You haven’t paid for it! 

— You too. 

— But I will. 

— Just as I am. 

He chuckles, more amused than anything. You look angry, you look pissed, you munch on your lower lip nervously because you don’t want this man to walk all over you, but you also really want his – it belongs to the state, actually – coke. So, you yank it one last time, already preparing to give up and drink Pepsi as the loser woman you are. 

Instead, the bottle goes right into your hand with ease – and you fall on your back, losing the connection between your legs and the ground. You prepare to fall and crack your head on the floor, just like a wet kitten of a person you are. 

Instead, you stumble into…something. You want to say that it’s something soft, maybe a snack aisle or the pillows that are being sold in this store for some reason, but this mysterious “something” under your cheek is firm, tense and warm. 

Just like in the worst romantic comedies you ever saw, you are crushed into a broad male’s chest. Don’t mess it up with another man’s broad chest, those are actually two very different individuals and the concentration of pecks on the square meter already makes you feel uneasy. You bite your lips nervously, wanting nothing more but to disappear – you finally have the bottle in your hands and you can swiftly retreat to the cashier on the other side of the shop, but the man behind you stops you. 

— What’s going on, Tigeren? 

Ah, good. The wall of muscles behind you smells of generic male deodorant and something metallic – and has the voice of a Greek god mixed with the most stereotypical Austrian accent ever. Not like you are an expert on accents or voices or tones because you’re not sure that Greek gods would have such high and grumbling voices, but you stand not corrected, drowning in your bad decisions. 

You feel the firm hold on your shoulder gently put you away slightly, as the man comes to touch the asshole’s hand. Softly, gently, you want someone to touch you like this. You lift your gaze from the pair and…

Did you miss a Halloween party with the tough rule of wearing a mask all the time, even when you’re going out to grab some more snacks? You lower your gaze from the man who also wears a generic black mask and dark glasses, your eyes slowly go down to his pants and…

Did you miss a horse-riding party? 

— Some tourist tried to steal my coke. Nothing, Ko. 

— I’m not a tourist. 

You mumble, under your breath. You don’t want to be here – the area suddenly becomes intoxicating, you feel out of place and you want to run away as fast as possible but the only thing you can do is to just strive on, hoping that you’d at least keep your beverage with you. You take a step to the side, hoping to retreat quietly, like a ninja – but they both notice and turn to your side immediately. 

— This is a dangerous place, lady. 

The tall guy – well, they are both tall, but the second one is fucking enormous, towering over the shelves and making you feel insignificant compared to him – grumbles it gently, almost carefully. You are inclined to listen to him, taking up his words like a damned prophecy. You know this place is dangerous – it’s a forest in the mountains of Austria, of course, it is dangerous, you tried to tell your friends this, but…well, to no avail. Useless as usual. 

— I’m aware, thank you. Can I…excuse me, I will leave now. 

— With my coke. 

Korean guy snorts, the clear amusement in his voice. You don’t like the way he emphasizes the point of you stealing it from him – you both are entitled to it, if anything, he is the weird one to think that he has some special dibs for this. The bottle is already warmed up from your combined touches and you groan from the fact – now you will have to choke on the warm cola while all of your friends have fun with their dumb alcohol cocktails and ice cubes and everything you forgot to bring because you were the last one to get here. Because you were the last one they asked to join – feeling like an afterthought, you lick your lips nervously. 

— Of course. The one you wrestled out of my hold. 

— You let go of it, sir. 

— Didn’t want to make a scene with a little thing like you. 

You feel the tips of your ears burning. Oh, how you wanted to punch both of them – the tall one and the slightly less tall one, both chuckling like a pair of grannies on the porch. Like this fucking place needed more bears. 

— You should be careful around these parts. Weird things going around. 

The mountain has spoken again – weird, but all of his phrases feel more like something straight up from a horror movie. Combined with the eerie dim light of the tiny store and his mask, it sent a shiver down your spine. Gosh, you need to watch fewer horror movies and read less terrible dark romance books. You are jumpy, nervous, anxious, everything that doesn’t combine well with a forest trip. 

You take a step back and the blue eyes follow you. When did he take off his sunglasses? Why do they both need sunglasses at night? 

He looks at you and, fucks sake, you stumble into the aisle again. With a bottle of coke in your hand, which isn’t the best weapon in the world, you stumble to the cashier. 

Cold gaze follows you. Oh, how he follows you. 

You nervously bring the coke bottle to the old man behind the counter, listening to the tired German speech – you recognize the numbers, memorize the price of a single bottle, and yet…you feel the eyes glue to your back as you desperately rummage through your pockets. You swear to god that you had cash on you this exact morning – but you go through your pockets, through your backpack, and try to search for maybe some old cents and cards. 

Nothing. 

God, you feel like a failure – embarrassed that you wasted so much time trying to get this bottle only to put it back on the shelf in defeat and…

— On me. Move your ass, tourist. 

The Korean guy notches your side and you glare at him with a mix of anger and shame – he pays for the bottle, probably grinning from how well he taught this annoying as fuck tourist a lesson, and also for the few snacks he bought, probably for himself and his…friend? Boyfriend? 

You move your ass obediently, going out of the store, and your head hangs low in defeat. Your friends are smoking outside, everyone is visibly annoyed with how long it took you only to go out empty-handed. Jenny, one of your girlfriends, a tall brunette with a perfect fucking body that shouldn’t belong to someone in the real world and not 90-era comedies, looks…worried. 

You went to ask her what was wrong, but she shook her head, looking somewhere behind you. 

You stare at the ground, watching as your shriveled shadow from the single-store light swiftly being absorbed by someone’s much larger frame. You gulp, not wanting to look behind you, knowing what – or who – you might want. 

Tall guy with a…coke bottle? Well, you weren’t expecting that. He gives you the bottle and you can almost see the condescending smile on his face as his fingers linger on your hand for longer than they should be. You take the offer, not really understanding what the fuck is really going on. 

— Thank…you? 

— No problem, kleine. 

You can hear the smile in his voice and your hands are trembling. Jenny looks at you with surprise, clearly not expecting nerdy ol’ you to pull someone so…well, not nerdy and maybe old. 

— What the fuck? Who is…

— I’ll explain in the car, alright? 

— Did you drop it or something? 

— I…I think I lost my wallet. Have you seen it? 

She stops for a second, thinking. There are a few things Jenny is good at – burning the tip of her tongue with a lighter, wearing crop tops, eating men alive (unless they are the most annoying ones alive). Lying isn’t one of them – not because she is a good person, but because she would rather flip your shit upside down and make you as upset as she possibly could. 

— Chad took it. Said you’d find the nearest bus to get the fuck out of here if you’d have it. 

He…

You can’t fucking believe this. All this humiliation because her annoying boyfriend didn’t want you to ruin this little unfriendly gathering. You feel angry tears in the corners of your eyes, almost ready to sniffle like the needy thing you are. God, you’re weak and pathetic and…

The Austrian guy behind you coughs, attracting attention. 

— Ladies like you shouldn’t go out this late. Bad things might happen. 

Jenny snorted and you already wanted to close your eyes. She was clearly not having it and she had a very short temper – you take a step back, towards her, hoping to set her down. Instead, she took one look at your pleading expressions, and it made her even more annoyed. She was never good with locals. 

— We’re getting out of this dump as soon as possible, sir. Didn’t ask for your opinion though. 

He chuckles and the sound sends a shiver down your spine. 

— Just wanted to warn you. Tourists are disappearing around these parts. 

— We’re not some dumb tourists. 

— Ach? You aren’t? 

Jenny fails to hear the amusement in her voice. You tuck the Coke bottle in your arms, hoping that they would stop. 

— We’re not a bunch of dumb tourists and we will call the police if you’d proceed harassing us. 

— Just wanted to give your friend what she forgot. Keep an eye on each other, ja? 

— We will. Fuck off before I’m calling the 9-1-1, verstehen? 

You feel even more embarrassed as she storms off to the truck where Chad and everyone else is staying, not even paying you a glance – too used to your sorry ass going right after her, like a lapdog that your other friend likes to bring everywhere in her tiny pink purse. 

You sigh, feeling horrible. The guy is creepy. Tall, looming over everyone, both of them are fucking terrifying – but they paid for the coke and the Austrian one is genuinely trying to tell you something. A bit paranoid, maybe, but you see the cargo jacket he is wearing, so he is probably either a paranoid survivalist or maybe a part of the military. You like having someone worried about your safety, even in more of a scary horror movie-esque form. 

— I’m…sorry for Jenny. She isn’t always like this, we’re just tired after a long road. 

— You were driving whole day? 

— We’re, um…on a trip. You know, a little getaway in the woods. Would have been nice. 

The giant tilts his head to the side. You just noticed that his hands are twitching a little, fidgeting with the bottom part of his jacket. You find it almost cute, endearing in a way – at least he is as anxious about talking to you as you are to him. You find yourself also fidgeting on the bottle, swirling it in your hands, never understanding what you should do in a somewhat normal social situation. 

— Be careful, kleine Hase. Like I said, it’s a dangerous place for young ladies like you. 

The way he said it, calling you a young lady, made him look extremely old – and made you feel even more embarrassed and uncertain about your future. Here you are, wasting your youth on shitty road trips to Austrian woods instead of reading horror books and watching romance movies. 

— Thank you, sir. I…I’ll keep that in mind. 

— Are you two alone on the trip? 

Alright, it was a bit creepy. his cold blue gaze bores in your face, making you feel small. 

— No, Our male friends are with us. 

He humms, almost sounding amused. 

— Good. Wouldn’t want it to be too easy. 

— Sorry? 

— Wouldn’t want someone bad to hurt you so easily. 

You smile. He is nice, even if a bit creepy – you nod slightly, taking a step towards the truck, since everyone else already got in and you still have a long road to the place of your camp. 

— Thank you for the bottle, sir. 

— You are welcome. Keep yourself safe, ja? 

You nod. 

Keeping yourself safe sure does sound nice. You can do it, right? (You can’t,  but you don’t know that yet)

#call of duty #cod #cod x reader #cod x you #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere cod #yandere x reader #yandere horangi #horangi #kim horangi hong jin #kim hong jin #horangi x könig #horangi x reader #horangi x you #slashers

[harunayuuka2060]

Sebek: *has approached Yuurin right after the class finished*

Sebek: Human! There is something I need to tell you!

Yuurin: What is it?

Sebek: *smirks* Show gratitude, human. Waka-sama has extended an invitation for you to visit Diasomnia. *hands her the invitation*

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: *opens it and reads the invite*

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: *pulls out her pen and starts writing on a piece of paper* *folds it together with the invitation then hands it back to him*

Sebek: ...

Sebek: What was that?

Yuurin: Please give my reply to your housewarden. *bows her head then leaves*

Sebek: H-Hey! Human! Are you going or not?!

Malleus: *chuckles*

Lilia: *chuckles too after seeing her reply*

Malleus: I completely understand.

Sebek: What is it, Waka-sama? Did he accept your invitation?

Malleus: No. However, he suggested to meet some other time.

Sebek: How dare he- HE'S NOT SUPPOSED TO DECLINE SUCH OPPORTUNITY TO MEET YOU!

Lilia: I don't quite agree on that, Sebek. According to his reply, he was thankful to receive an invitation from Malleus, but his club activities wouldn't allow him to have such free time.

Malleus: Yes. I honestly think this is a nice gesture.

Sebek: I-In that case... Is there anything you want from me, My liege?

Malleus: There is. *smiles*

Sebek: *spying on Yuurin*

Yuurin: ...

Ace, Deuce, and Jack: ...

Ace: Do you think he needs something?

Deuce: He's been staring at you a lot, Yuurin.

Ace: Yeah. He's not even hiding it.

Jack: Should I confront him?

Yuurin: No, it's fine. He must have reasons.

Ace: Dude, he reminds me of Vil-senpai when he's trying to recruit you to Film Studies Club.

Deuce: You're so popular, Yuurin.

Ace: Well, it's not surprising because you're handsome. I mean, I have a crush on you.

Yuurin: ...

Jack: ...

Jack: You little-

Ace: Let me express my feelings, Jack! I don't get to do this often when Leona-senpai is around!

Sebek: I see. So he has quite a busy schedule.

Sebek: Not bad for a human.

Sebek: Human! Can I ask you to visit Diasomnia this weekend?

Yuurin: Why?

Sebek: You promised Waka-sama!

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: I didn't promise him anything specific. But I wouldn't mind, I guess.

Sebek: R-Really?

Yuurin: Yes. Can you stop following me around now?

Yuurin: The Savanaclaw members are not happy about it.

Sebek: Y-Yes. However, you should do as promised!

*At Diasomnia*

Sebek: WAKA-SAMA! THE HUMAN HAS PROMISED TO COME THIS WEEKEND!

Malleus: Oh? *chuckles* Great job, Sebek.

Lilia: Fufu~ Does that mean you two are friends now?

Sebek: Huh?

Malleus: Seeing that he agreed, he must have considered you as his friend now.

Sebek: I-I don't think that's the case, Waka-sama.

Sebek: Though if I were to be honest, he did earn my respect a little.

Lilia: Aww~ See, Sebek? Being friends with him isn't that bad.

*At Savanaclaw*

Leona: Why?

Yuurin: *has told him that she will visit Diasomnia on weekends*

Yuurin: I promised.

Leona: Can't you just break it?

Yuurin: I never break promises.

Leona: Tch. You're too nice.

Leona: ...

Leona: You can go if you can show me improvement on your voice.

Yuurin: ......

Yuurin: I'm not satisfied with the result.

Leona: Come on now. You need to practice switching voices. That's what your brother asked from you, didn't he?

Yuurin: *nods* '

Leona: Then let's hear it.

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: *clears throat* *breathes in*

Yuurin: Leona-senpai. *her voice sounds soft and whispery*

Leona: ...

Leona: *takes a deep breath in* It's not bad.

Yuurin: *backs to her masculine voice* Really?

Leona: *holding back his laughter* Yes.

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: You are lying, Leona-senpai.

Leona: No! Why would I lie? *with a laughter in his voice*

#twisted wonderland #twst yuurin #twst leona #twst sebek #twst malleus #twst lilia #twst ace #twst deuce #twst jack #twst unveil

[ms-demeanor]

i mean realistically many people do deserve to be the victims of targeted harassment campaigns. if you're being an asshole you deserve to be screamed at by everyone present until you stop. some people commit acts of cruelty and subsequently forfeit their reasonable right to participate in society until they've made amends.

the people of wendy's have a moral right to scream at the manager if said manager sprays them in the neck with milkshake every time they go to pick up their order

damn following up the last ask, ig it was someone in ur notes constructing an equivalence between @tting staff and getting nuked to yelling at a wendy's manager and getting kicked out. my bad lol thought that was part of ur main post

I mean this is something that's still worthwhile to bounce off of even though you're not actually responding to me.

First of all, no, I pretty much don't think that anybody deserves to be the focus of a targeted harassment campaign. At least not the kind that are spun up on tumblr or twitter. I generally think that targeted harassment campaigns don't work to change minds, they only work to torment, isolate, and attack people, which will often further entrench them in their positions.

Sometimes people doing serious antifascist work will make a discovery like, for instance "the principal of X school is a vicious antisemite" and will run an *exposure* campaign to get them removed from a position of power, but with very few exceptions when you see an online callout post for a random internet user it's nothing but abuse and an attempt to bully them off of a specific website, not an attempt to protect victims or inform people of a genuine threat. "ABC is the new alt of this person with a documented history of starting cults, DNI, block and move on" is very different than "This specific user who is on staff posts harry potter fanart and is why fascists continue to exist on tumblr, let's make sure they know what tumblr thinks of them."

You are trying to frame bullying campaigns as normal consequences for antisocial behavior, but the antisocial behaviors under discussion here are "user posted fanart broadly disliked by the community and associated with specific ideologies long after the initial fandoms were crystallized" and "is the CEO of a social media website that is implementing features that the users dislike."

"People deserve to be screamed at until they stop the bad behavior" is punitive and shitty and so broad and open to so many interpretations that you're basically saying "it's open season on screaming at people." I think that it's bad behavior to support neoliberal political candidates who prop up capitalism but it would be horrible for me to run harassment campaigns against everyone who says "vote blue no matter who" even though I think that attitude perpetuates real world harms. (And it also wouldn't convince those people to change their minds! The fact that I think they are doing something harmful doesn't give me the social license to send hundreds of people to harass them! And it wouldn't work! These kinds of campaigns don't effect change they just isolate people and erode trust and civility jesus fuck we need to be coalition building not posting callouts over whatever activity has been deemed "freak behavior" this week)

some people commit acts of cruelty and subsequently forfeit their reasonable right to participate in society until they've made amends.

oh buddy, I think I get where you're coming from here but considering the kinds of behavior under discussion this is just straight up fascist. You are literally saying that people should be banished from society for wrongthink because nobody under discussion here has actually committed an act of cruelty.

(one of the things that i'm putting under the heading of "tumblr conspiracist thinking" is "staff is currently and continually intentionally flagging certain LGBTQ tags and bloggers" - there is ample evidence that the current staff is working to unfuck flagging and blocked tags that was done long before this crew was working on it. People talk about "tumblr had to settle because their filtering disproportionately impacted lgbtq+ creators" and that is TRUE however that was a filter that was established under different owners with different policies and different staff; the implication that the current staff is guilty of trying to stifle LGBTQ+ content because a lawsuit started before the Automattic purchase of tumblr ended in a financial settlement is just bad, wrong, incorrect, faulty logic. And if I might indulge in a bit of my own conspiracist thinking: I actually suspect a lot of the flagging and tagging and blocking of trans women specifically might actually be targeted attacks of individual users by terfs - many of the things that are getting flagged as needing a community label are things that use tags that terfs follow to attack and if enough users click "this needs a community label" the post will get flagged - I don't know that that's what's going on but just operating on occam's razor I think it's a lot more likely that terfs are coordinating attacks on trans people than that there is a secret group of cryptoterfs on staff taking time out of their day to ensure that trans users get flagged, if only because I think that the vocally trans positive former members of the staff would have said something about it.)

So, given that my position is "it is unlikely that anyone on staff is intentionally targeting LGBTQ+ groups HOWEVER prior policies enacted harm against LGBTQ+ groups and there is visible evidence that the current staff is trying to repair that damage" I'm not seeing any behaviors here that call for individual employees or users to get targeted with harassment from thousands of users.

But anyway, back to the specifics of the ask:

some people commit acts of cruelty and subsequently forfeit their reasonable right to participate in society until they've made amends.

Do you have any idea how frequently amends are made and never circulated as widely as the callout post? Do you have any idea how frequently callout posts are incorrect, and exaggerate the things that need to be amended? I'm reminded of Lindsey Ellis, who was the victim of a years-long targeted harassment campaign and made multiple apologies over the years who was finally driven off of her primary platform because she carelessly misspoke and the people who had been targeting her for years were able to make a post that she had long disavowed and was a relic of her dealing with the aftermath of sexual violence go viral. The internet doesn't let people make amends; people see accusations. They see the first post, not the follow up. That's why starting these campaigns is shitty and dangerous even if you *personally* believe that you'll forgive an individual once they "make amends." (and the "amends" people usually demand are "i want this person gone from the internet forever and cut out of this part of their life" - that's not really something that's fair to ask of people when so much of the world is online these days.)

the people of wendy's have a moral right to scream at the manager if said manager sprays them in the neck with milkshake every time they go to pick up their order

No they don't. Straight up. If the manager of a wendy's sprays you in the neck with a milkshake you have the right to escalate your complaint right up the chain, take your business away and never come back, warn other people "hey the manager sprayed me with a milkshake, stay away," but you don't have the moral right to escalate the situation by screaming at them (and you certainly don't have that right if you happened to get sprayed with some milkshake while the manager was attempting to fix the frostee machine when you came to pick up your order, which I think is actually more analogous to what is happening here).

someone in ur notes constructing an equivalence between @tting staff and getting nuked to yelling at a wendy's manager and getting kicked out

A big point that I think you're missing here is that @-ing staff when there is a problem on a post or you see harassment is generally pretty acceptable (though much less effective than filing a support claim), but the issue under discussion isn't @-ing staff, it was pointing thousands of angry people at two specific people who are *part* of staff and holding those two individuals responsible for all the problems that users see with tumblr.

partyjockers got nuked because their post directed a flood of harassment at one staff member in a post where they had highlighted that user's URL and name:

This is explicitly saying "users like the one I screenshotted are the reason you're being attacked by terfs" because one member of staff posted fanart from two franchises that tumblr-the-userbase has deemed off limits.

(Do you have any idea how extreme a bubble this is? Do you walk into barnes and noble and sigh because the managers are fascists who want trans people dead because there's harry potter merch everywhere? JK rowling is a terf and a horrible fucking person and I am no longer personally comfortable engaging with that fandom but people posting fanart of a franchise are not personally attacking you even if it feels like they are disregarding your humanity; you cannot consider other people's participation in huge, popular, mainstream fandoms as a sign that they are plotting against you this is why i'm calling this conspiracist thinking the entire scorched earth conspiracy spawned from someone interpreting a staff member's art as esoteric signposts signalling their hatred of trans people. Do you remember when the stupid harry potter game came out and this entire website was despondent because it meant that people didn't care about trans people? That's not actually what it meant! What it meant is that the vast majority of people on the planet have neither a twitter nor a tumblr account and have no idea how shitty JK rowling is to trans people and they don't interpret "harry potter imagery" as "covert terf signal" they interpret it as "possibly the most mainstream fantasy series in the last fifty years")

This isn't someone calling out the manager after they spray you with a milkshake. The manager asking someone to leave after they started screaming that the cashier's earrings were hate speech.

This analogy got out of hand but please just understand that there's a difference between @-ing an account that people are paid to monitor as part of their jobs and that they have support and coworkers to help with and @-ing someone's personal account.

Nobody got a post deleted because the used @ staff, they got their posts deleted because they focused viral negative attention on individual users.

[despazito]

could u elaborate on "parrots make bad pets"? not disagreeing (far from it) just interested to see your take! looking to learn more about this

(i've gotten this ask before so please don't mind i'm just gonna paste a writeup i did a while ago)

There’s a blog run by an animal behaviourist who specializes in parrots that i really enjoy reading, she has a very good writeup on the state of companion parrots as an industry: The Inconvenient Truth About Cockatoos

so basically the average person usually cannot meet the needs of a parrot, especially medium and ESPECIALLY large species. they are long lived, extremely social and intelligent animals who are very demanding if you are their only companion. in my mind the most 'ethical' pet parrot setup is having some pairs of budgies in a dedicated bird room filled with foraging enrichment and doing some basic command training as a bird-human bonding activity instead of cuddles.

most pet parrots are hand reared or even hatched in incubators by breeders and are never given a chance to be raised by their parents, and virtually none stay with their parents until a natural weaning age before getting sold. which is wild considering it is fucking ILLEGAL to do that to puppies or kittens.

A parrot isn't really born wired for human companionship in the same way that a dog or cat is. they imprint on their parents which sets the blueprint of their kin, and they generally want to only form extremely close bonds with others of their kin. To get a very people-oriented parrot, it has to think it’s people.

This is different from the socializing practiced in raising cats and dogs or acclimating ferals to people. socializing means exposure to things so that the animal doesn't grow up to see the target as a threat, and ultimately that the target is something that can be very rewarding to spend time around. A dog raised with its mother and socialized to people still understands that it's a dog, it can get along with other dogs, but can also form strong bonds to people. They actually read both dog and human body language and legitimately have an awareness that we are different species.

The companion parrot is raised to think it’s people, and as a result many lose the ability to form bonds with their own kind. in fact the reason many breeders remove eggs or chicks from the nest is arguing that the parent birds don’t really know how to raise their chicks- because they themselves were hand reared and never learned how to parent from their parents! it seems that, like us, parenting isn't perfectly hardwired in parrots and they need to learn the skill from their families, oftentimes even staying to help their parents raise younger siblings!

That's why it's not at all uncommon for pair bonded breeding birds to be sold as a completely separate product from companion birds in many aviary operations. there's so many ads for people selling breeding parrots that fucking hate humans or are semi tame specifically listed for sale as breeders not as pets:

then their babies are bred for the pet market so they are taken either before or right after hatching to get hand reared and imprinted onto humans, because a parrot-bonded parrot just won't be as interested in forming those close human companionships you see in viral videos. this isn't the case for all aviaries, i want to acknowledge there are smaller scale breeders who have tamer breeding birds, but big producers can have borderline feral pairs and the point i'm trying to make is when you socialize a parrot to either the human world or parrot world, it's often at the expense of the other.

most trouble starts once the parrot begins reaching the age of sexual maturity. they stop being openly cuddly to most people, and will try to pair bond with their primary caretaker. It's not uncommon for this to lead to aggression towards other family members because parrots don't share partners, they can even do this to babies they are jealous of!

But a human can't become a suitable mate substitute for a parrot, and some of their mating behaviours such as regurgitating on you can seem straight up gross so the human then shuns the parrot and shuts down their advances. this can make your bird become very sexually frustrated that can lead to more unwanted behaviours and even health emergencies such as prolapse. we lead them on by stroking their chest and backs (only something bonded pairs do, you are essentially jerking off your parrot when you do this..) then reject them with no other outlet for their natural urges, and spaying/neutering isn't an option either! so they're stuck in a psychological purgatory of being unable to fulfill their instincts. and if they're in an understimulating environment and left alone for most of the day in addition to all that, frankly i think that's just an awful life to give to an animal we allegedly love!

we essentially alienate them, and when they don’t have people around to meet their extremely high social needs because you work a 9-5, even if there are other birds around, the lonely or frustrated human-bonded parrot can become depressed and self mutilate.

parrots that were left with their parents, are raised as parrots, and weaned at their own natural pace overwhelmingly do not exhibit these destructive behaviours.

 a productive relationship with a pet parrot is one that fosters independence, not dependence, on the human companion. the most responsible parrot owners should strive to act more as a zookeeper to their parrot instead of cuddling it and creating a ‘velcro’ bird glued to the hip, and socialize with them via training sessions instead of letting their birds indulge in pair bonding behaviours like petting and preening which leads to sexual frustration and aggression or self mutilation.

Ultimately I believe any parrot hand reared and imprinted onto humans is some degree of psychologically damaged and suffers from the parrot equivalent of a developmental trauma, they have been robbed of a normal parrot life and it cannot be undone.

SO many parrot rescues are completely flooded with unwanted pets, many with tough behavioural challenges (for example it's not uncommon for parrots to be reactive to an entire gender, so that cuts the adopter pool immediately in half). and these patterns can be difficult to break especially without the aid of a behaviourist. and the thing still has another 40 years of life left in it but nobody wants to adopt because it's another "crazy bitey bird that hates everyone", has reached sexual maturity so it's no longer as friendly, and it's much easier to start from scratch so folks choose to just buy another baby and keep the cycle going.

And none of that even touches on the rampant poaching that keeps supplying the trade in many parts of the world. and that's why everyone should have domestic chickens or pigeons.

#i added a bit oop #its a child that cannot move out and may live up to 70

[astrobaeza]

astrology hot-takes 🪩

credit goes to @astrobaeza <3

DISCLAIMER: these are MY observations :)

🪩 cancer placements are not the crybaby's you think they are. rather than outright emotional, I think cancer placements are super intuitive -- they're in touch with their's and other's emotions and (often) know when to express them or identify them. powerful people, love you guys <3

🪩 aries placements can be so selfish :( it's a combination of the fire and cardinal energy --> super passionate but can also be too forthright with themselves and how they feel, often times coming off as dominant. really competitive as well, with everyone around them

🪩 scorpio men have a distinct "twinkle" in their eye (some call it crazy lol)

🪩 libras and leos both want attention but for different reasons. libras want attention for their relationships while leos want attention in order to have a relationship with them. leos are more upfront about their "me" attitude while libras hide their need for attention through being super social and having a lot of friends.

🪩 12th house placements shine brighter and are more powerful than 10th house placements. this is because 10th house placements are fundmanetally meant to be known for "themselves" -- could be for good or bad. while 12th house stelliums have the power to be known for the impact and influence they have on others, which I think is more powerful.

🪩 tw! : 4th house placements in synastry are not good for people who grew up in abusive homes. when someone's planets fall near your IC (midpoint in the 4th House, opposite the midheaven), it usually indicates familiarity and feeling like home to them or one another. for people who did not grow up in good homes or were abused, this familiarity could develop into a trauma bond! pls be careful.

🪩 fame degrees and placements are not fun -- it's karma. being famous is not always glitter and glamour. though it's still a fortunate position to be in, it's hard (and sometimes even life threatening) to be famous. it is a debt to the public to be (yes, seen and adored) but also scrutinized for who you are. definitely not for the weak.

🪩 geminis are what aquarius' wish they were. aquarius definitely has a complex for wanting to be different, unique, and special. I've definitely seen this play out into superiority complexes and even God complexes. geminis naturally stand out for their wit, charm, and intelligence with everyone that they meet. I feel like Geminis, though they get a bad rep, are the ones that really can talk to anyone.

🪩 saggitarius are the best fire sign. they are the only mutuable fire sign, while Leo is a fixed sign and Aries is cardinal. due to this, they still embody the positives of fire energy -- playfulness, fun, energetic, free-spirited -- but they are also most adaptable relative to the others. Leos and Aries (still) definitely on that selfish streak.

🪩 the real mean girls of the zodiac are sisters --> pisces and virgo. pisces and virgos both use their intuitive, serving nature for harm. they figure out what your weaknesses are by faking care, getting to know you deeply, and use that at a later time to trigger you! also can be hypercritical, emotionally ab*sive, and manipulative.

🪩 the "best" synastry should actually vary zodiac to zodiac, chart to chart. 7th house synastry isn't ideal for everyone --> for example, an aquarius might want more 11th house synastry with their partner due to their friendly nature. definitely have to consider the whole chart, but not everyone's needs or wants in a partnership coincide with the placements in one another's charts. I know couples with no traditional synastry placements that have lasted longer than couples with them!

🪩 taurus placements love being comfy / keeping their comfort items with them. maybe it's because they're Venus-ruled, but taurus placements love cozy sweaters, blankets, and have specific comfort foods. a taurus friend has a specific blanket for different activities! but of course, has great taste in these things and only wants the best. being cozy and attractive is essential for their well-being!

follow @astrobaeza to change your life 🌟

BOOK A READING

#astrobae #astrology #astro community #astro notes #astro observations #astrobaeza #astrology community #astrology tumblr #astrology hot takes #synastry #fire signs #sister signs #intuitive #libra #leo #scorpio #virgo #pisces #gemini #aquarius #12th house placements #10th house placements

[houserautha]

These Destined Ends

Part Ten

Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: talk of death and dying, grief, reader gets to a pretty bad place, stabbing

A/N: It’s earlyyyyy. If this was a Friends episode, it would be called, “The One Where Reader Loses Her Goddamn Mind”

As a child, Gurney would take you to the seashore to reward you for a particularly good session, whether it be academic or physical training. You used to look forward to these rare occasions. Not only because you loved the sea, but because your beloved mentor would loosen and his scarred face would slip into a semblance of a smile. On this specific day, you remember the sky being impossibly blue and the water still as a puddle.

You had reveled in your good fortune.

Laughing, you had initiated your favorite activity — chasing the waves down the shore then running away as the tide crashed at your heels. The memory of that day invoked a sense of warmth and safety, enveloped by the sunlight and the briny smell of the sea.

You had taken a break from your antics to catch your breath when you noticed dimples forming in the sand whenever the water receded.

You squatted down, sea-sprayed pants rolled to your calves, to inspect your discovery. After a few moments, you realized that snails are causing the dimples, being no longer than your pinky nail and entombed in pastel-colored shells. Delighted, you watched them scurry to bury themselves in the sand before trying to grab one for yourself. You dug fervently in the wet sand, giggling as they slipped out of your still chubby fingers.

Finally, finally, you managed to scoop up a hunk of crumbling sand that hosted one of the tiny snails.

Crying out triumphantly, you hurriedly brushed the sand from its purple-colored shell and then held it up to the sun. The small, nearly translucent creature disappeared into its home. But you didn’t care. You found it and it’s yours. Gurney, sitting in the sand a few feet away, calls, “What did you find?”

You skipped over to him. Slowly uncurling your careful grip, you showed him your treasure.

“It’s a snail,” you had told him enthusiastically, “I caught him in the tide.”

Gurney smiled indulgently at you. “How cunning you are, Lady Y/N.”

You started to dance, nonsensical and without rhyme or reason, the dance of small children so possessed by happiness that you needed to release it somehow. “I’m going to take it home and show Papa,” you said as you spun away, snail clutched to your chest.

Later, Gurney approached you. His feet had been bare and encrusted with sand, face reddened by too much sun. He squinted at you. “Lady Y/N, I must tell you something.”

“Hm?” You had been busy balancing on a piece of driftwood, arms spread out like wings. You had transferred the snail to your pocket after worrying your sweaty palms would lose grip on him.

“You must return your friend to the sea.” When you gazed up at him in disbelief, he ruffled your hair. “It will die if you take it from its home.”

“But…but I love him,” you said with child-like solemnity. Your lower lip jetted out.

Gurney’s smile turned pitying. “I know you do, Lady Y/N. You have a gentle heart. But sometimes, when you love something, you must let it go so it can be happy and safe. You want your snail to be happy, don’t you?”

You paused and considered this, then nodded.

Stepping off the driftwood, you moved a few paces closer to the shoreline and laid the snail lovingly atop it. It wiggled into the sodden sand and vanished as the tide washed over it.

Tears that you were too ashamed to shed burned your eyes, and you sniffed.

“You did the right thing, Lady Y/N,” Gurney had told you, “because of you he will live another day.”

You thought that by journeying to Giedi Prime, by marrying the na-Baron, you would be ensuring the happiness and safety of your family and beloved mentor.

But now, like the tide washing over the snail, they were gone.

At first, you were detached from reality, wavering slightly. Asha and Feyd and the servants stared at you. It felt as if a numbing agent had swept over you, completely obliterating any sense of self. You ran the words over and over in your mind, hoping that if you repeated them enough you might be able to change their meaning.

The House of Atreides has fallen. The House of Atreides has fallen. The House of Atreides has —

Tears blurred your vision. Your lower lip trembled. You said, very quietly, “You did this.”

“Y/N,” Asha had said, stepping towards you.

“You did this,” you repeated louder, voice loathsomely tremulous. The numbness in you turned sharp and jagged. “You did this. You knew. You knew.”

Asha started, “We didn’t —”

“You think we did this?” Feyd snapped.

You barely heard him as the pieces fell into place, memories of the last few months surfacing and creating your gruesome truth. The threats from Rabban, the Sardaukar soldiers, Rabban’s recent departure. There was no doubt the Harkonnens were behind your family’s downfall. Had they all known? Were you just another pawn in another game that you hadn’t wanted to play?

Hysteria crept into your tone. “You knew. You knew. And you lied! You fucking lied! All this time you knew they were going to kill my family and neither of you did anything.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Feyd sneered.

Asha looked to him, alarmed. “na-Baron, perhaps this isn’t the best time to —”

“If I wanted to kill your family, I would’ve done it on our wedding day,” Feyd continued as if she hadn’t spoken. He advanced on you. “We had no hand in their deaths.”

“Don’t come near me.” You held up a hand to prevent him from getting any closer. Your gaze flickered between Asha and Feyd, to the servants watching the entire scene unfold with wide eyes. “None of you come near me.”

“Y/N —”

“GET OUT!” You screamed. Tears had streamed down your face then, which was surely reddened by anger and grief. “All of you! Get out!”

The servants scurried away, leaving Asha and Feyd in their wake. They stared at you; Asha in fright, Feyd’s expression unreadable. Your whole body shook with the concentrated effort not to launch yourself at them. “I never want to see either of you for as long as I live.”

Feyd’s mouth worked. “Fine.”

He spun on his heel and disappeared. Asha lingered momentarily, seemingly searching for something to say, but ultimately ended up trailing after the na-Baron with her head low. Now that you were alone, you flung yourself into your quarters and started pushing furniture in front of the door.

You wanted to be alone. And you never wanted to see another Harkonnen again.

That had been, what — three days ago? Four? You had stopped keeping track. After barricading the doors, you had alternated between wailing your sorrows and destroying everything you hadn’t pushed in front of the door. Then, from that night and into the next two days, you had curled into a corner of the room and slipped in and out of consciousness, getting up only to relieve yourself.

It was the third day, then, that Feyd began knocking. At least, that’s what it started as.

Soon he was pounding on the door, throwing his body against it, screaming and cursing and crying out your name. He roared, “You can’t stay in there forever!”

Each strike of his fists on the wood reverberated through you like a physical blow. Not once did you respond to him, much to his ire, demanding that you let him know you’re still alive.

Were you?

You weren’t sure. And even if you were, you had nothing to say to him.

Your sadness was a living, breathing thing, its arms reaching around your middle in an embrace that slowly squeezed the air from your lungs. You could feel it compressing your bones, your blood, pressing down on you with merciless force. Everything melted together in a devastating act.

And then, in fragments of time when you could wade through your crushing grief, grim realization would settle in.

The last time you had seen Jessica, you not only insulted her status but dismissed her from your presence. She’d tried to reconcile, through your father, of course, but you had denied her even that. Would you have felt as justified in your decision if you knew she would be dead soon?

Your heart panged at the thought of Leto, too — how you had so cowardly ran from him to avoid his disapproval of you. And now…now you would never see them again. Never hug your mother or feel the brush of your father’s beard on your cheek, inhale their familiar scents.

You were alone. Completely alone.

And worst of all? It was the fault of the people you had just decided worthy enough to trust.

This delivered a hit to you almost more crippling than the deaths of your family: the death of the new family you thought you found. Asha. Feyd. Their faces circled through your mind. You did your best to shove them away but sometimes you thought you saw them in the corner of your eye, heard Asha’s musical laugh or caught the fluid, graceful movements of Feyd’s stride.

And each time you turned in a flurry of hope that they were there. Because, despite their betrayal, you wanted them there to comfort you.

The fifth day passed. Your images of them increased, to the point that you staged arguments with them and raged and sobbed and came undone. You vaguely realized that the food you kept refusing was affecting you, the poison your body now depended on taking its toll without daily reinforcement. Your days became delusions and fake conversations. You were weak, mentally and physically, unable to move. Some of the nausea and fever returned from the first few days after dosing, too, rendering you powerless.

Your mind played tricks on you. A memory of Caladan superimposed on top of Feyd’s mouth, his body on yours, Gurney and your parents and the sea and the snail and your own bloodstained hands. The Feyd your subconscious conjured found you like that — crumpled and spent and sodden with tears — after you imagined he broke into your quarters.

Unlike the other images, however, this time he scooped you into his arms and carried you to the bed where he laid you down on the bedclothes and plied you with something bitter-tasting that drifted you off to sleep.

A bright light washes over you, and you slowly open your eyes. The first thing you notice is a warmth inside you that previously had been missing. Then, that you’re lying in the bed and the room has been cleaned and, for the most part, rearranged.

You jolt up. There’s a cuff around your left wrist, keeping you bound to the bed. It rattles as you yank on it, urgency seizing you.

“It’s just a cautionary measure, na-Baroness.”

A woman glides into view. By the crown of dark haired braided back from her forehead, you know she’s not Harkonnen. The woman stops at the end of the bed and smiles reassuringly.

“Who are you?” You croak.

“My name is Doctor Wyn. I am a physician that’s been called in to aid your recovery.”

You consider this. “Feyd-Rautha called you.” She nods at this, and in response you recline back against the pillows. “I don’t want to see him.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Wyn says. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, I suppose.”

“Your body was suffering from the lack of nourishments and, without your dosage of poison, severely unable to regulate itself. Did you suffer any…delusions? It’s mostly commonly associated with poison withdrawal. I want to clarify what you remember of the last few days.

You hesitate but eventually recount your memories, including seeing Asha and Feyd. “The last thing I remember is a vision of…him.”

Wyn hums. “I suspect that was real, na-Baroness. He’s the one who managed to get to you. And in good time, too, you were close to death.”

“He…found me?”

“Yes, na-Baroness.”

You think back to your fragmented memory of the event, of Feyd’s pale, concerned face hovering over you as he tucked you into his body.

That had been real?

“Did he put you up to this?” You ask.

“No, he did not,” Wyn answers with a hint of amusement, “but he has been waiting anxiously for you to awake. Do you mind if I inform him? I will only be gone for a moment.”

You nod your assent. The thought of Feyd makes your stomach twist uneasily.

When she leaves, you turn your gaze up to the ceiling. The last few days float over you, the news of your family’s deaths. The numbness is now replaced with something you can’t quite name — not sadness or grief. It’s almost peaceful, except for a flicker of anger.

Wyn returns. You’ve moved yourself fully upright and flattened down your hair. The surprise is evident on her face. You tell her, “Let him in.”

“na-Baroness, are you sure?”

“Yes. Do it now.”

Wyn nods again before leaving. This time, the sound of approaching footsteps is only too familiar. Feyd freezes when he sees you. An indecipherable expression crosses his face before disappearing behind his usual indifference.

You take him in greedily — the contours of his face, his broad shoulders, plush lips. All of this pales in comparison, though, to the scar that starts at his right brow and slices across his nose to the opposite cheek.

Feyd examines you. “You look like shit.”

“I could say the same to you.” You want to know what caused the scar, but you don’t want him to know that you care. “Why did you save me?”

“It would be terribly inconvenient for me if you died.”

“Are you sure it’s not because I’m the only thing linking you to Arrakis?”

Feyd’s gaze hardens. “Explain.”

“Arrakis,” you repeat like it’s obvious, “isn’t that why all of this is happening? I’m the last of the Atreides line and as my husband you stand to inherit the planet.” And the spice trade.

“Admittedly, I’ve given thought to it,” Feyd says with a tired sigh, “as did my uncle, who I suspect orchestrated this entire tragedy.”

“Don’t separate yourself from him,” you hiss.

“Did you not hear me?” Feyd rounds the bed to your side. “The Baron has been acting of his own accord, scheming behind our backs, wife, with my idiot brother. And while we should’ve been retaliating, you’ve been…here.”

“Here, what? Mourning my family?”

“Do you not wish to avenge them?”

Your tongue rolls in your cheek. “I do.”

It’s true — his words fan the anger in you into a burning inferno. You do want to avenge them. You want the Baron to pay for what he’s done.

Feyd sits down on the edge of the bed, his weight dipping the mattress. His hand twitches as if to grab yours but ultimately thinks better of it.

“We can’t do it if you do not trust me and believe me complacent,” he says. “Tell me what I must do to prove it to you.”

You don’t reply. Instead, you stare at him, achingly beautiful, this man whose darkness calls out to yours. You can tell that he is earnest about this. His suggestion is a summation of your relationship thus far, you push him and he pushes back harder. Only, this time, you would push last.

“You hurt me,” you murmur, “and now I want you to feel the same.”

“How?” Feyd asks. Did you imagine his eyes flick down to your mouth?

“Give me your dagger.”

His movements are slow, deliberate. Not once does he tear his gaze from yours as he unsheathes the dagger at his hip. Feyd presses the handle of it into your palm. It’s heavy, a weight you’re not certain you can even wield in your current condition. You wrap your fingers around its leather grip.

And Feyd never even flinches as you plunge the dagger into him.

Part Eleven

Taglist:

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#feyd rautha #dune #feyd x reader #feyd x you #fanfic writing #writers on tumblr #writing #feyd rautha harkonnen

[psychoticallytrans]

This post is specifically meant to help kids and emerging adults that were not taught what you might not want to share online.

The purpose of not sharing personal information is to make it more difficult to connect up information about you, and especially to make it difficult to connect the "you" online to the "you" offline. The reasons one may want to do this range from maintaining safe relationships outside of an abusive relationship, to making it harder to put together enough information to break into their bank account, to being actively concerned about doxxing and swatting.

For any of these reasons, if you're not completely sure you will be fine having that information on the internet indefinitely, it's best not to share it in the first place. The internet is full of turmoil, but we all know that some posts never die, and that others are archived.

Here's some information that is generally considered a bad idea to share publicly or privately online, with the exception of applying for jobs or working with online financial and legal systems, and some strong alternatives.

Your full legal name, or any particularly distinctive part of your legal name. My first name has less than six hundred people with it in the States. I use a nickname on this blog for a reason. Nicknames are a great alternative to legal names.

Your birthday, especially if you also share your exact age. That allows for people to look for you based on your exact birth date, which is a very powerful piece of information. Unlike your legal name, there's no way I know of to change it. Consider not sharing this at all. For age, "minor" or "adult" are all the information a reasonable person should need.

Your precise location. Big cities, like Tokyo, New York City, or London, have a high enough population to act as a bit of a smokescreen, but as a rule of thumb, stick to stating a local with at least a million people in it. I often just use my time zone, since it's the main thing people need to know online.

There's other information that is questionable to share openly online, particularly your personal phone number and email, but those are the three big pieces of information that it's generally not a good idea to share either publicly or privately. This is because they can be plugged into background checkers and other databases to try to find you offline. The more information you share, the more someone can narrow down who you are. If that is something you are concerned about, consider following these guidelines about what not to share.

I encourage people to add onto and spread around this post.