#ascension puberty

[pursuitseternal]

“The Third Day” in “Antics of the Newly Ascended:” just sweet smut, rough smut, and Batstarion 🦇🔥

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader | E | 2K 🔥smut

Thank you @zyana-wyvern for the sexy staring screenshot 💞

Summary: A night spent drinking in the tavern below lands you back in your room, belly aching from the wine, other part of you aching for… him. Only you find yourself alone, alone except for a small presence that might just be watching you enjoying your alone time.

CW: female masturbation, fingering, fluffy bat forms, More Chin Scritching™️, getting folded in half and f*cked senseless.

First day | Second day | Ao3 link

🦇🔥🦇🔥🦇🔥🦇🔥🦇🔥🦇🔥🦇🔥🦇🔥🦇

Your head is swimming, your feet stumbling as you climb back up the stairs to your rooms at the Elfsong. You tug at your dress, breathing heavy, wine-laden pants as you poke your head into the common rooms. “Is he… hiccup… back yet?”

“His lordship?” Shadowheart rolls her eyes. “Yes, he’s… somewhere, though he was not quite so equally in his cups as you are, it seems.”

She crosses her arms and throws you that sharp look of judgment.

But your belly is too light with wine to really care. You wave, slurring a goodnight, heading back to your rooms. Of course, it had been a quiet night. One more night of drinking down in the tavern before another grueling day of fighting and gathering allies and being heroes. The wine had been sweet, not quite the same as before you were turned, but still good to your tongue. And now, you had a silly smile on your face and a warmth in your belly only he could satisfy. You push the door open to your private room, craving that tingle of his powerful presence. But you find it dark.

Empty.

But you can feel, sense him, close by. You most likely don’t have long to wait, you think to yourself, settling on the edge of the bed, starting to slink your gown from your shoulders. You shimmy it off, letting your skin finally breathe from under all that fine silk.

Your whole body thrums, just hunger and need. A drive to be sated and filled. Where could he be… you bite your lip, feeling your arousal only growing stronger with his scent in the room now. This must be what it is to be in heat for beasts, to have a need to be fucked only quenched with fulfillment. If only he was here…

Eyes closing, your hand brushes up your own thigh, body shaking as you slide yourself back into the bed. Hands wandering over your belly, your thighs, you let yourself explore this new form. It’s so similar, perhaps brawnier, lean and wiry just like him. To your own touch, your flesh isn’t cold, hard and defined, but not chilling or undead.

Yet, you are equally wet between your thighs at the thought of waiting for his return. What’s the harm, you wonder, letting a single finger reach between your folds to sweep that slick over your clit and rub.

Lighting races down your spine, your body shivers so hard, your fang bites your lower lip in its grasp.

You can smell him, feel his presence near. Close, but not close enough. Drawing near but still not with you. Not inside you. The thought alone makes you tremble more, imagining that slide of his cock inside you, filling you with the memory of its delicious drag and the ghost of its pressure.

A panting moan rises from between your grit fangs. What’s the harm… you’re alone after all.

Heat quickly wraps at the base of your spine, tremors rocking your insides slowly, fire flooding your belly.

So close, so close now. You chase your orgasm with reckless abandon, barely feeling the rush of beating air above you, hardly hearing the woosh of leather wings flapping near your face.

“My, my,” his voice caresses in your ear, right in your ear. Lips rubbing against its curves. “Who knew you had so much arousal within you tonight…”

You shudder at his voice, almost still from the sensation of just his breath, his sound.

“Oh, don’t you dare stop on my account, my treasure…” you feel him settle on the bed beside you, one arm reaching over your shoulders, as your eyes fly open to look into his face.

Hunger—unabashed, unsatisfied hunger incarnate.

“Where…?”

The question doesn’t leave your mouth, not when he softly claps a palm over it. “Ah, ah,” he chides you, “I would feel just awful if you didn’t finish what you started before I so rudely joined you…”

“Then politely join me, my love,” you whisper against his mind, an easy feat to do while he hangs over you, peering with those dark red eyes.

His lips slide into a deeper smirk, his other hand sweeps quickly to join yours, barely catching your fingers as his fingers dive deep between your walls.

You groan, muffled beneath his palm, your nose working extra to catch your breath. Your body thrums and throbs, his fingers pumping in and out, crooking to catch that spot inside you he alone knows of and worships.

It’s too great, the pressure and the pleasure, and then he slides a third finger inside you.

Crying, you shatter, tears of bliss seep from your eyes as they shut, closed tightly as ecstacy wracks your body. Wave after wave, your orgasm consumes you, his fingers still drawing inside, giving your cunt something wonderful to clench around.

At last, your eyes drift open, meeting his own glassy gaze of desire. He seems flushed, aroused. Eager. As if he has been watching and waiting for…

You look at the ceiling above the bed, catching sight of little scratching claw marks that weren’t there. Your mind recalls that soft beating flutter.

“Astarion,” you whisper, dragging his hand from your mouth first to hold it in your own clasp, “I could have sworn I felt you… smelled you… before you just appeared out of nowhere.”

“Ah,” he purrs, so pleased with himself in that single syllable, “you need a demonstration,” he grins, oozing pride. Before your eyes, a mist swirls as you feel him shrink above you. That bat replaces his form, flapping its wings and flipping in a circle a few times before landing on your belly.

You gasp at the contact. Fuzzy and scratching, little claws and softer spots of fur sending ripples of sensation through you.

Then another burst of mist, and he’s suddenly crushing you. Long legs already spread your knees apart, arms braced on either side of your head. His fangs flash in the dim light, so arrogant and proud of his abilities. “I thought I would give you a bit of a surprise tonight, once you returned. Little did I know my little love would be far too eager to wait for even her dearest little fluffy pet to materialize before getting right… into it.”

You raise a finger, sliding it down the ridge of his pointed ear. Its sensitivity instantly makes him shiver on top of you. Crimson eyes flutter shut, mouth pulled apart in pure arousal. But you keep that touch traveling down the cut of his jaw, drawing to a halt only to scritch under his chin.

You feel his cock twitch on your belly, increasingly more erratic and harder the longer you caress him there.

“I do rather like that, you know,” he offers gently. “Two-hundred years of being touched, and no one… no one touched me like that.”

“That’s because no one got the pleasure of petting the Vampire Ascendant in his remarkable transformed form before,” you grin, your fingers raising to continue their gentle scratches in his soft and unruly locks.

“Mmm I do like the sound of that, my treasure,” he purrs, leaning against your touch, eyes still closed to savor the sweet little caresses you make across his skin, through his hair. “Perhaps I could return the favor? Perhaps you have a little itch that needs… scratching?”

“Gods,” you mewl, bucking your hips for any more friction in your folds. He only chuckles as you do it again, your fingers clawing into the back of his neck. But he slides from your hold to grab your knees. His hands fold you into yourself, legs draping over his shoulder, opening yourself up wide and plentiful for his taking. A growl in his throat, Astarion sheathes himself inside you in one, quick and brutal thrust.

The noise you make bounces off that bat-scratched ceiling.

“Better?” he taunts above you, hands at the backs of your thighs as he slowly glides in and out. A rough beginning followed by a slow undulation as he takes you.

You can’t even lift your head, can’t catch a full breath with how he has you bent for his pleasure. But it feels so… divine. Every slick thrust squelches as he takes his time. You try to keep your gaze fixed into his, watching how he drinks in the sight of you, tongue licking his lip, muscles of his shoulder and chest clenching as he fights to keep control of himself.

You open your mouth, letting moan after moan pierce the wet-slapping quiet. You want to make him undone by your sounds alone. Holding nothing back, you make little noises of pleasure with each thrust, feeling that control slipping away as he slides into you faster. “So good,” you keen, his rolling hips now slamming into you. “I want more, my love…”

That… that snaps something inside him, nails biting into the soft flesh of your thighs, languorous thrusts turn to pummel after pummel that smack hard at the end of your channel.

You squirm, almost unsure if you can take it, but you can’t think either, hesitation quickly swallowed by the flashing heat of your climax. Your hands clench into the bedding, senseless noises rip from your throat, until you scream his name.

“Just as cute and ferocious, aren’t you?” he growls, pushing his cock through the clenching waves of your climax, his own thighs washed in the gush of your arousal. “Who’s… chittering… now, my pet?”

His words come out stilted, sputtered and forced between his gritted teeth as you feel him hitching. Hips bucking wildly and hard against your ass as he groans. Seed spurts inside you, leaking from your slit so packed with his cock. A few more thrusts and he stills, a slack jawed, satisfied smirk on his full lips. He grins so wide, you stare at his glinting fangs.

“Have I…” you pant, groaning as his hands ease your legs back down to the bedcovers, “…earned my own chin scratches?”

“Maybe…” he purrs back, sliding his body in the bed, pulling yours to fit snugly against his side. “There is a high standard of what warrants such a reward, I’m sure…”

“Not for you,” you tease, running a single finger along his jawline, tapping your fingertip on the prominent point of his nose.

“Yes, but I am Vampire Ascendant. We can’t be giving out my special reward to everyone, now can we?”

Your hand fists, slamming a punch into his shoulder that makes him feign a whine. “Oww,” he dramatically whimpers, his face suddenly twists into that look of feral, untamed lust. “Oh wait, as a mighty vampire lord now, I can also shrug off blows like they’re nothing, you should know that, my consort…”

You move with preternatural speed to climb on top of him, to grip both hands on his chest and smirk down at him. “I want my rewards,” you tease, letting your head wag to show off your chin.

He easily slips his arms from under your hold. Fingers claw around your neck, just enough grip to tighten your breath. He pulls you quick to his conceited grinning lips. Sucking your lips, those warm little licks of his mouth work his magic on your whole body. You feel it through the haze of need he stokes with his kiss, just the barest little tickles of his fingers under your chin.

It warms something inside you, that dexterous touch caressing that secret little soft spot under your chin. And then you feel his kiss sweep to the side of your neck, fangs grazing you with those little razor points. “One rewarding turn deserves another, wouldn’t you agree?” he purrs beneath your ear.

And you nod, the smallest permission taken to its fullest as he bites and drinks.

With one last stroke of his thumb under your chin to thank you.

#ascension puberty #ascended astarion #batstarion #bat form for naughty purposes #hot smut #astarion smut #astarion x f!reader #astarion x reader #astarion x female reader #astarion romance #reader x astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion #bg3 smut #bg3 spoilers #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #bg3 #astarion baldurs gate #baldursgate3 #baldur’s gate iii #baldurs gate smut #baldur’s gate 3 #baldur gate 3 #baldur's gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate iii

[firephoenix23]

So I merely just lurk on tumblr but I’ve honestly started to come back thanks to the knowledge that Slugterra is coming back apparently!!! That show was literally my life when I was in middle school although I recently went on the Slugterra: ascension wiki for the new episode called trapped and saw that someone edited it saying that the voice actors are all different. Not like one or two ALL the characters voices are different. Like I’m gonna be honest if they all don’t even sound close to the original characters I’m just gonna headcannon they’re all going through puberty

#slugterra #slugterra: ascension #Eli was 15 when the show started and 16 when it ended #maybe he’s just growing #maybe they’re all just growing #plus we don’t know how old everyone is 😅 #wait when do people go through puberty again #wonder why they couldn’t get the original voice actors #thank you to whoever is updating the slugterra wiki #doing god’s work over there

[ghostchems]

the rose

terzo reminisces about simpler times.

authors note: y’all want some angst and goofiness? well you’ve come to the right place! inspired by something that happened to @tasty-ribz! less than 1k words. ao3 link.

Terzo’s quarters had been a complete mess since he was forcefully retired. It was still fresh in his mind, happening a few weeks ago and his room reflected his mental state. Clothes were everywhere. The bed was unmade. Stacks of dirty plates and glasses lined the walls.

He was sitting on the floor, half dressed, rummaging through his things. Suddenly, he launched an item across the room in frustration. Terzo felt his life was over. What was he supposed to do now? He had no responsibilities. Nobody was counting on him anymore. He was alone, again… like he had been for so long prior to his ascension.

He continued rummaging through his things, rummaging through memories. Everything had been taken from him but he still had his memories. He felt lost, surrounded by relics that didn’t even matter to anyone anymore. They only mattered to him.

In the sea of purple, black and gold, something red and lacy caught his eye. Terzo reached for it, pushing aside the clothing beside it and pulling it up to his face. Red, lace, panties. His lips stretched into a smile, perhaps the first time he had smiled in the last few weeks. 

***

Secondo wouldn’t stop laughing at him. Just because he was three months older, he had this idea that he was so much more mature than him. Meanwhile, he was just as clueless — but was good at playing the genius, the older, more responsible brother.

“Why is this funny, fratello? I am asking you for help.” Terzo’s cheeks were flushed, trying to hide it with his hands. “I really like her.” His voice cracked and he couldn’t help but stomp his feet. Puberty. Goddamn puberty. 

Secondo was already taller than him and was built like a Greek god. Terzo had always been smaller, shorter, but he could be a quick bastard. He started to clap his hands in his brother’s face to get him to focus.

 “Okay, okay.” Secondo laughed, pretending to wipe a tear from his eyes. “It’s just – of all the girls you like the one that’s–”

“SECONDO!” He was about to snap, to tackle his brother to the floor and start wailing on him. Terzo could feel the tears of frustration starting to well up in his eyes. “Per favore, I am asking nicely.”

He didn’t want to admit that he wanted Secondo’s advice. The girls flocked to him, despite his rather grumpy behavior. He had his first girlfriend in first grade. This was the first time Terzo had ever felt feelings like this and he knew that his brother had experience with that sort of thing. Plus, going to their father was not an option. They were pretty much left to their own devices and their older brother was off doing his duties as a high-ranking member of the church.

“I have just the thing, fratello.” Secondo finally got a hold of himself, pulling open a drawer and rummaging around for a moment before grabbing a fake rose. “Give this to her. She’ll know what it means.” He handed it to Terzo with a knowing smirk.

“Che bella!” Terzo looked it over, smiling faintly to himself at the thought of giving it to his crush. “The color is striking, sangue rosso.” He mumbled, then looked up at brother with a wide smile. “Grazie a mille, fratello. Thank you, thank you.” He couldn’t wait, immediately leaving Secondo’s room to go find his love.

“Che idiota.” Secondo sneered after he had left.

Terzo felt like he was walking on air, his feet carrying him to the classroom. He gave a small knock on the open door, his eyes falling to Sister Juliette sitting behind her desk. She seemed to be grading papers. His face was already flushed when she called him over to her desk.

“Terzo, back again to help me file some papers?” She asked, smiling at the boy. He was quite the teacher’s pet.

His breath caught in his throat. Her smile. Terzo walked slowly into the classroom, his anxiety skyrocketing. This was it. He was doing it – admitting his love of his teacher with a beautiful rose for a beautiful woman. 

“S-sister Juliette?” His voice cracked again as he extended his arm, holding out the rose to her. The poor boy was trembling.

“Oh, Terzo, thank you.” She tenderly took it from him and turned it over in her hands. “It’s really… it’s quite–” Her eyes narrowed as her fingers brushed over the rose itself and she pulled it from the plastic slowly. The rose unfurled, revealing a pair of red, lace underwear.

“Merda. Merda. Sister Juliette, I didn’t know –” Terzo had gone pale, his voice cracking all over the place as he tried to explain. He was almost crying again. Sister Juliette tried to calm him, to soothe him and tell him that it was all okay but it didn’t help. He ended up snatching the underwear from her hands and running away from the classroom.

***

Terzo remembered hiding out in his room for a little while, quieting himself and his mind before returning to Secondo’s room and exacting his revenge. It took almost every single ghoul in the abbey to tear them apart, with Secondo suffering the worst of it. He chuckled to himself, thinking about how much they had grown since being children: how much they had changed and how much they were still the same. 

He twirled the underwear around on his finger, just as he used to do on stage. Things used to seem so simple, so uncomplicated. Terzo missed those days. He slingshotted the underwear across his room and it landed on another pile of his memories.

All he knew now was uncertainty.

#papa emeritus iii #papa emiritus ii #terzo #secondo #ghost fanfics #ghost fanfic #ghost fanfiction

[slavghoul]

Interview from Rock Hard FR #232

The devil is in the details

You never hid it, Metallica had a big influence on your way of thinking about your career. Impera is your fifth album. It allowed you to play in very big venues, it saw you reach the first place of the US charts. Is it, in a way, your Black Album?

I don't think I can compare our career to Metallica. The band was, at the time, part of this huge mainstream rock wave that was the equivalent of what many rap bands are today. In 1991, Metallica was listened to by every high school student. Whereas, on our side, even if it's undeniable that we're doing well, it's always young people "on the fringe" who listen to us because our trajectory has always been more alternative than mainstream. But it's true that the pressure we felt when creating this fifth album is surely the same as the one Metallica experienced at the time, as well as Iron Maiden with Powerslave (1984). Metallica did have a huge impact on me, it influenced my way of thinking enormously, as did Maiden again, especially in terms of how to tour, how much work to put into our projects, how to behave... We've toured with both bands, and a lot of our strategies - even if it sounds a bit like we're a company - about how to create a good atmosphere for all the people who work with us on the road are very much influenced by the fact that we've opened for them and that they've treated us well.

It is not easy to manage such a success, to manage to prolong the ascension while reinventing oneself sufficiently. Metallica made the choice to drastically change its orientation on all levels, even if it meant taking a big risk. How do you approach this step, which is similar, for Ghost?

We're not at a point where we've accomplished everything yet, especially in terms of gigs, the places I want to play, and there are still a lot of new people to reach. Musically, I already have an album in mind that will contain things we haven't done yet. I also have a film project. But if I ever wanted to do something totally different, I would probably do it under a different name. I'm trying to make Ghost evolve into whatever form it can take, but I would never say to myself, "Okay, I'm going to give up the theatrical stuff, we're going to play in the clothes we wear every day". That's not cool, that's not what we're known for, and that's not what people want. Of course, you could argue that we've already disappointed fans of the first and second albums, who feel they didn't get what they wanted, but exploring new territories and evolving is a very difficult thing to define. Nevertheless, I think there are some key ingredients in the Ghost recipe that I can't subtract without causing serious consequences. If you think of Ghost as a dish in an Italian restaurant, the music is the olives and garlic, our visual attitude is the pasta base, you can't remove one of the two ingredients from such a dish without distorting it... I would add that the lyrics would be the cheese! (laughs) But if I had more time, I would love to play drums in a punk rock band in the future!

I'd like to talk more specifically about the universe and philosophy of the Ghost concept, which is a band that has always given the feeling of being black metal... but without the black metal music. The cover of Prequelle (2018), for example, or the lyrics of a track like "Majesty" are elements that one would easily imagine to find in a black metal band...

I come from the black and death metal scene. I built myself up with it, starting to listen to this music when I was in puberty. My whole adolescence was coloured by this extreme scene, although I grew up listening to a lot of different styles of music. It's clearly my home, where this sort of sub-culture or pop-culture that I like so much comes from. But I also got out of sync with the times pretty quickly: by 1995, I had already lost interest in new bands, being too busy listening to 1985 bands instead! (laughs) The bands I liked the most were still around though. Either because their careers were still going strong, or because they were reforming. In fact, the music that followed me all my life was the music my mother listened to when she was young: The Rolling Stones, The Beatles, The Doors, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix. It was an echo of another era, the 60s and 70s, which I obviously never experienced. But metal being closer to me, it comes out in Ghost, even though a lot of our melodic elements come from something else. It's in the attitude and the lyrics that you find my black metal, death metal and punk influences. This nervousness, this biting side, the will to move mountains with words, in a very adolescent, aggressive approach...

Since the beginning of the band, some of your lyrics have been precisely anchored in religious references, sacred texts like the Bible. For example, Satan Prayer contains an ‘inverted’ version of the Nicene creed, and many other lyrics refer to very specific things that I imagine you have studied in detail...

Yes, I've always been interested in religion, especially when I started, as a teenager, to get interested in demons and the occult. That was the beginning of my first band. I started writing songs and spent a lot of time with a dictionary, trying to collect words, phrases, and that's what I still do with Ghost today. When you work with words, you have this desire to explore your inner self, linguistically, to refine your language. I'm bilingual, but I want to keep learning new words, new phrases, grammar, whether it's in English or Swedish. When I started writing lyrics, I wanted to do death metal, then black metal, and all the bands I listened to used these words and names inspired by biblical or semi-biblical texts, or expressions in "Latinized" English. I read books on religion, the Bible of course, but I also turned to films, anything I could find, at a time when, without the Internet, it was more difficult to find sources. I collected and gathered a lot of things!

There's another thing you've cultivated since the beginning, in parallel with these very satanic lyrics: it's your sense of humour, which allows for a rather explosive duality. So, when Ghost was still only on Myspace, you were already sending deadpan messages to the fans who contacted you. Like: “you'll burn in hell for eternity for being interested in Ghost... but you can still send us your questions!”

(Laughs) As far back as I can remember, I've always been like that! It sounds a bit silly when you say it like that, but the world loves to laugh. I've always been guided by humour, satire, even when I was playing with Repugnant. Even back then I had a bit of an ironic attitude, and I always added humorous elements to my work. I've always enjoyed both the joking and the very dark - at least on the surface - aspects of some bands. In the underground scene I know, with the exception of a few idiots who were completely dead inside, and who actually had huge mental problems, most of my friends were very funny guys, always guided by the joke and the humour. That's a very important thing to me. I can't imagine living without comedy, without the ability to laugh at almost anything. From my point of view, it's what allows us to deal with things that are supposed to make us cry. There are so many tragic and horrible events in the world, and you'll always find someone to say, "No, it's too soon to laugh about it". But for me, it's never too early. It's a very contemporary thing, to constantly question what we are allowed to laugh about, what we are allowed to say. But I really think that in the future we'll be able to start laughing at everything again, because that's how we get through things. No matter how negative or horrible the subject is, that's how we should live our lives: trying to entertain each other, allowing ourselves to have fun with almost - and I mean almost - everything.

As we said, despite this fun side, your lyrics are very serious. Nevertheless, in the eyes of some listeners, you may give the idea that all this is only a parody of Satanic codes, for fun. It is however difficult to imagine you making fun of Satanism when we know the strong links you had with the late Selim Lemouchi (The Devil's Blood) or that still unite you with Erik Danielsson (Watain), two figures who we know do not joke at all with the question...

(He cuts me off) But I don't make fun of Satanism! Not at all! That was never my intention (silence) I take the example of the book The Name Of The Rose, written by Umberto Eco. Anybody who reads this book can understand, especially in Europe, where many people grew up under a Catholic religious influence... Do you have any recollection of the Church being associated with anything comical or funny? Do you remember priests as comedians, who make you laugh and have a good time? No... Because the devil has always represented intellectualism, freedom of thought, comedy and satire, whereas Christianity has always represented the opposite: the repression of feelings and needs. For me, if you want to approach things from a satanic angle, I can't imagine a more satanic life than the one we propose! (laughs) We talk about freedom, intellectualism, laughter, not following the conformist path. There is sometimes an attitude among the people who form the underground scene that makes them confuse the totalitarian nature of the Church with its opposite. But what do you want? A totalitarian Christianity without the slightest hint of laughter or the other way? You decide... It's also a funny confusion when it comes to the symbols, rhetorical elements, references to the Bible and visual language we use, both in Ghost and in metal in general: we are all fascinated by the devil, power, all that stuff, but to my knowledge, not a single destructive empire in the history of mankind has been designated as Satanic... The number of murders perpetrated by Satanists can be counted on the fingers of a few hands, whereas the HUGE amount of people tortured, raped, killed, burned, stoned, dismembered, thrown like piles of rubbish in public places, for thousands of years, in the name of Christianity and other religions, is insurmountable. Who are those who do harm? (silence) Who are those who cannot take a joke? If you don't want to laugh and prefer to become an authoritarian person, determined to fuck people up, you should go and see a priest, it's the best thing to do...

A band like Black Sabbath had to make their non-Satanism clear early in their career because they couldn't stand to be misunderstood, both by believers and by Satanists themselves. Ghost is eminently more blasphemous than Black Sabbath, but you were never forced by events to speak out on the issue. The Telegraph newspaper recently ran the headline: "How Ghost became the acceptable face of Satanism".

I think it has a lot to do with the groundwork Black Sabbath laid fifty years ago. The first Satanic bands, like Black Widow, Coven or Black Sabbath - and I think even the Rolling Stones, although it's just a word in the title of a song (editor's note: Sympathy For The Devil /1968) - were confronted with the peculiarity of the late 60s. They were in their twenties, born in the 40s, and had taken a big leap into a new era, with all these new freedoms that their parents didn't have, who had been born in the 10s or 20s. And their parents were embarrassed by it all. The long hair alone was too much, not to mention the way they lived their sexuality and didn't care about anything. For their parents, these kids were ruining everything. Today, I dare say that our concerts probably bring together four generations of people. Those born in the 40s, others born in the 50s and 60s, then my generation, and finally the younger ones. All of these people have grown up with a pop-cultural Satan in one way or another, whether it's movies or rock music. It's not as provocative as it used to be, unless you're a puritan or a black metalhead who doesn't know how to smile and thinks that Ghost is joking with Satanism... I would like to point out something else in this regard: of course, Ghost never joked with Satan, not at all, but on the other hand, I'm not trying to embody the face of Satanism. My approach is different from that of Selim or Erik. I'm not trying to get people to take my... (fumbling for words)... whether I am a Satanist or not. At the end of the day, we're an entertainment group. I want to make people happy, but also inspire them. And while I'm doing that with my band, I take the opportunity to give the listeners an idea of what I think about things, how I feel about them. But let's say there is no... programme! (small laugh) I don't think that way. I want to do my bit to help make the world a better place, according to my vision, that of someone who grew up in the 80s with VHS of horror films. My childhood memories are of such a liberated cultural climate... We had almost no restrictions, and I combined that with my personal life, with an older brother and a very liberal mother. There was BB King in one room, the Dead Kennedys in the other, and me in the middle, playing on the table with my Star Wars figures. I believe in a very culturally liberated society, and I want to offer a kind of big buffet with all these things that made me. I think most people think like me. At least the ones I know, because there are of course people elsewhere in the world who seem to miss the great days of the KGB... I don't know what they miss most: perhaps the lack of food and the empty stalls? But it's natural to be nostalgic, to want to go back to a time when life was cool. I believe that, in the near future, the life we are talking about will be allowed to exist. We will be able to listen to rock'n'roll, eat whatever we want, kiss whoever we want as long as they agree to be kissed back, and that's regardless of gender. And the only thing I can do to move those mountains is music, making people dance and laugh. It's the only thing I've ever been interested in, and also the only thing I'm capable of doing. I can't do more, I can't do differently...

The children's choir at Hellfest singing "Come together for Lucifer’s son" is far more disturbing than any ritual with pig's blood and inverted crosses. Yet few people are shocked. Most find it fun. Ghost is thus a kind of joyful satanic expression!

I love the duality of this experience! I also have my moments where I turn into a poser doing the "invisible oranges" gesture [editor’s note: a gesture that consists of holding both hands in front of you as if you were holding oranges] when I hear something that sounds **EVIL**  (laughs) I like this aggressive, dark side, because it is also a part of me. But I chose to present this part, at least with Ghost, in a more joyful, positive way, because I believe that the Force is a balance. You have to combine the light and the dark. Everything evolves in a circular way, and if you try to trick people into using only one or the other side, it doesn't work. I don't believe in that. Doing this kind of stuff is the most intuitive way to express myself and my feelings. For me, "Monstrance Clock" with children defines me exactly, in the strongest way: it's funny and solemn at the same time, in a sacred sense... It's my more childish side because I also want to believe in supernatural things. I really do!

Because you are not an atheist.

(Firmly) No! I am not! I believe in the Force! Of all the explanations that exist, George Lucas' is the best: we have to work with the Force, it needs to evolve, but you can use it in two different ways, positive or negative. With it, you can destroy as well as rebuild...

#the band ghost #tobias forge #interview

[medievildead]

This is gonna be long and none of you have to read this. I just need to vomit out a happy rant about God of War.

Like I don't know how to describe my joy and I know I keep saying it I know I do but like. Having been a fan of this series since the very first release in the 2000s, loving the story and the depth of Kratos and seeing just how vast and big and huge the fanbase is now. The fanworks people make have made my heart so happy. These games always meant so much to me as a greek mythology kid and its up there with one of the first series me and my dad ever played together (he made me step out of the room during Those Scenes, don't worry)

I remember my dad and I first seeing the demo for the first ever God of War on a ps2 demo disc we got from back when GameStop was still EB Games in Canada. We both thought it was so cool. I watched him play the demo over and over again, until one day he could finally get the full game and we were even more hooked. We beat the game so many times together and watched the bonus content until the disc wouldn't work anymore. We tried our hand at every difficulty just to unlock every costume.

I remember when God of War II came out he was one of the first in line to get it that weekend. He even got the BradyGames player guide, which me and my brother read over and over and over again looking through the pages, all the lore hints and bonus content, all the characters and concept art until the pages ripped out. I still have the poster from that guidebook hanging in my bedroom. I still know where all the secrets are in that game like the back of my hand. When the game was beat and the final cutscene played my gad and I would always day how exited we were for the next installment.

I remember the day my dad got our PSP. He got the God of War bundle, the special red edition with the decal of Kratos on the back, the one that came with Chains of Olympus. I remember waking up early on the weekends to sit with him on the couch and watch him play. And if I ever missed anything because the screen was too small he would describe it to me happily. And when Ghost of Sparta came out I got to experience it all over again.

I remember when we first started seeing trailers for GoW iii and I got so exited. I remember my dad and I playing the demo with the chimera battle and being so, so so happy, saying we couldn't wait for the game to come out. I remember my dad refraining from buying the game on his own, waiting to stop somewhere on the way home from school just to buy it with me. And at this point I was finally old enough to figure out a game controller on my own, without my dad helping me at all, and the thrill of playing as Kratos on my own was a titular moment of me realizing I was growing up. Like not to be emo but playing God of War on my own during my adolescent years hit me more than puberty.

I can go on forever. I remember the day Ascension came out, and booking it to EB Games just to try out all the new features. I remember when I saw the novels for sale at a shop in the city, and not wasting another breath telling my dad I wanted them, and reading them more than I read my books for school reports. I remember almost crying because I didn't own a smartphone and couldn't play God of War: Betrayal and being so relieved to see footage was uploaded online and I was able to experience it that way. The only reason I knew what Soul Calibur even was is because Kratos was playable in Broken Destiny for the PSP. He was my main by the way

TL;DR this series was my childhood. It means so much to me. Every time my dad played he would select easy mode so he could read out the story to me. I hyperfixated on the story. And already being a mythos obsessed kid, GoW encouraged me to research mythos even further. And I was so happy when I would replay the games after learning more and more to understand reference after reference after reference. Teaching myself new glitches and exploits and finding new secrets in hidden areas after every playthrough. Rebuying the games every single time they were ported to a new system or I lost the disc. I own like 3 or 4 copies of each game at this point because I never want to not have them. It was like a new experience every time.

However. The games were always popular yeah. Highly rated. Fun to play. Kratos was a Playstation Icon. but large playerbase meant nothing in the long run for me.

I frequented gaming forums and Facebook in the early days and it was easy to tell most everybody playing these games hardly gave two shits about the story. There was nobody who really wanted to talk about lore. Nobody who really wanted to go in depth about characters. Nobody who really wanted to share ideas beyond the main focus. I remember going on deviantart and seeing people post fanwork on the occasion whenever a new game was released, but then never again. Silence. Interest lost as quickly as it came. Honestly I noticed even when the leaks for the Norse saga were published, the majority of people turned to look, were interested, started talking, but then looked away elsewhere when it wasn't the flavour of the month anymore.

I remember running God of War blogs back in 2012 to 2015 and nothing. Maybe three people interacted. Maybe three people bothered. But there were little to no fans. An audience yes but, fans? Fanartists? Writers? Headcanons? Any kind of fanmade media at all besides a few one off images online? I'd be lucky if I saw a shitpost that mentioned Kratos.

I remember writing fanfiction and posting fanart when I was twelve. I remember having action figures of Kratos decorating my shelf and playing with them till they broke and crying bc I was so upset. I loved enjoying these games. I was having so much fun on my own. I came to terms with an audience of none. Accepting that, despite the popularity of the series, to make fancontent for it, to entertain myself with the deeper lore of it was nothing but a niche.

Even with the release of 2018, as happy as I was for the new hopeful wave of fans, I was always a little upset when I saw people who played that installment as their introduction to God of War, go on to say they had no interest in giving the previous games a whirl because of the difference in gameplay and story.

At the end of it all it was still a niche.

So just... here we are today.

Here we are today and I can go into the God of War tag and be hit with a wave of the most gorgeous shit I've ever seen. Here we are today and I wake up to the most incredible drawings and paintings of the characters I grew up with in the most creative scenarios. The fanfictions that span chapters and rip deep into Kratos and his story. The headcanons that take inspiration from the most obscure lore bits from the series. The OCs that are inspired by this series' specific interpretation of mythology.

I can't put it into words. With the release of the Norse saga it's been... amazing. I just genuinley can't describe my joy. When I was playing the games themselves and the older games, the games I've been hyperfixated on my whole life were mentioned, that was one thing. But seeing other people comment on it. Discuss it. Be invested. Enjoy it enough to be inspired. Its like... So amazing.

I don't know what it is. Maybe its because of how the new games were more story driven than the previous installments. Maybe its because of the protrayal of the characters. Maybe its because of the popularity of norse mythology. I don't know and honestly I do not fucking care what the reason is. All I know is that I'm seeing people fall in love with something that means this much to me. Thank you Santa Monica for not forgetting about the story and games that made Kratos.

Seeing people who finished Ragnarok saying they were finally going to start playing the previous games. Or watching gameplay. Or reading up on the lore. Making fanart of the Greek saga. Fanfiction of it. Talking about it. Talking about the story. The deep, heartbreaking but important story that the games have always been telling and was always there that I have been invested in since childhood. I see fanart of Kratos and Calliope together, of Orkos, of Deimos, AUs and headcanons about them, and I want to cry happy tears.

I know you guys aren't making this content for me specifically. But I still have to say thank you. Thank you for making my heart happy. Thank you for reminding me of my most beloved memories every day with the stuff you make. You make my soul happy. Thank you for making stuff I can love and cherish and share with other fans, OTHER FANS, that I can talk to and listen to and discuss lore and art and ideas with about something so beloved to me and now beloved to others. I see people posting about it in depth and I am so happy to talk to or just hear people talk.

To ALL the fanartists, writers, and just fans in general who actually enjoy my or anyone else's GoW content, all of you on behalf of every long time God of War fan thank you so much for being a part of this community.

The feeling of knowing a series of media that's been so obsessively near and dear to me my entire life is becoming dear to others is indescribable. I know I'm being so emo about this but fr like... having people I can just. Talk to about GoW lore and nodding and agreeing and. Ahhhh.

I'll stop rambling now because I could go on forever but just like. Thank yall for being here. The stuff you guys make and share means more than you think.

Thank ya 💕💕🙏

#god of war #god of war ragnarok #gow #gowr #gow 2018 #kratos #kratos gow #atreus #calliope #calliope gow #atreus gow #gow x reader #idk what else to tag this with #i love all of you

[floareadeaur]

Ferid Bàthory's character analysis in chapter 134

Chapter 134 of OnS manga showed me something I have noticed about Ferid for a very long time.

Ferid has always hidden his true feelings. That is how he learned to live, to keep inside what he really felt.

"I want to disappear... to die."

"I wish... I was never born in the first place"

"I can't surprise these self-destructive urges. They keep running circles in my mind, driving me mad."

"Aaah, this is horrible. I feel like I'm tearing myself apart."

This is what Ferid felt and said to himself, curling up in the grass. With a desolate look, destroyed, crushed under the weight of his own soul.

But as soon as his brother appears, he becomes smiling, kind, like a humble and obedient little brother. He hides behind the façade of a " porcelain child ". He laughs, he smiles, but he is breaking down internally.

It is a habit to be so in the eyes of his elder brother. It is a habit for him to be internally torn by the discrepancy between what he feels and what he looks like.

Ferid adopts this position, in which his brother looks at him with delight, superiority.

He humiliates himself and it is something common.

Like here, where Ferid, submissive, steps aside of his older brother's ascension to the throne. It is customary for him to live as a shadow of his older brother, to be raised as a future obedient servant who must not have ambitions. And his brother looks at him happy, from above, he was raised to be the heir and Ferid only his shadow to protect his back.

That is why Ferid said in chapter 91 of the manga that he was perfectly normal for a second in line to the throne. That is why he says that his parents forced him to be a " saint " and that he had a very strict upbringing. This "saint" referred to the obligation for Ferid to have a personality and path in life that would not inconvenience his older brother in ruling his kingdom. And his true personality was not a good one for this.

When, finally, Ferid says what he feels, that he sees no meaning in living, he quickly adds that "maybe it is from puberty". He minimizes the tragedy he feels. He smiles, he stand up straight when he says it, but mechanically. Ferid has become roboticized by this character behind which he hides.

He is terribly afraid that those around him will find out what he really feels. He seems to be looking through people when he talks. His mind goes in the same painful circles he was talking about, and he seems detached from the world. And even when he tries to communicate a little, his elder brother tells him how good it is for Ferid to remain in the pit. Because Ferid's "total lack of ambition" is good for him politically. His brother does not care how Ferid feels, that his little brother just told him that he sees no point in living, but only how he will fulfill his own ambitions on Ferid's back.

And that was everyone's reaction to what Ferid really is.

"How scary. But, ever since I was born, I have never been silent. As Papa and Mama have said. Ever since I came out of the womb, I had an incorrigible mouth. Even so, they were still my parents. What was it again. What were we talking about~ Anyways──" ( Wrat19, volume 1, chapter 1 )

"Incorrigible" is very painful in this context. These are its meanings in English:

• Incapable of being corrected or reformed.

• Firmly rooted; ineradicable.

• Difficult or impossible to control or manage.

His parents told Ferid since he was born that he was impossible to be "corrected", that he was broken (actually there is another quote where Ferid tells Guren in light novels that his mother called him that when he was little, "broken"), impossible to control.

I mean, everything that was actually Ferid, his talkativeness, his questions, his energy, his dynamism, his intelligence, all were criticized. He was a mistake as himself. He says that he was raised very strictly to be a saint, that is, he was always chastised for his simple way of being. For big mouth, energy, questions, ideas. He was miserable as himself in the eyes of the family. And that is why he adopted the character imposed by them, of the "porcelain child" and systematically hid everything that lived internally, reaching " internal tearing "

I am sure that Ferid was afraid to communicate whatever he felt and even ridiculed his own feelings in front of others, because he had been taught to believe that no one could accept a " miserable " person like him.

And he grew up with that mentality. That is why he can not find himself anymore, why he wants to disappear.

And, of course, he broke out at some point. He tried to free himself from those to whom he was invisible as a soul and seen as a mess when he was himself.

But Ferid could not manifest himself wholesomely afterwards, because he was not fully formed as his own person.

He transformed the old persona of the "porcelain child" into that of the "monstrous bastard", which he wears as a vampire.

When he "freed" himself from the family that suffocated him, he ended up misusing his true nature.

And yet he always hid what he felt. He mocked himself, he learned to do it.

Everyone insults him and talks bad about him in the manga (beheading, insults, burning at the stake, humiliations), and he stays silent. Because Ferid grew up with the idea that no one can accept a " miserable " person like him, that is why he endures everything with a smile. And as a break out as a vampire, he wants to frighten, dominate, to bother those around him. This is a revenge for how he was forced to act like a child, to be a "people pleaser" who smiles like a fool and puts himself aside in front of anyone he might inconvenience.

Ferid was not really seen, known, listened to, accepted. He was always forced to be someone else. In his family he was a mere pawn for other people's dreams. To Rígr he was still a tool, thrown away when it became useless. And in people's eyes, as a vampire, he is just a crazy monster.

Everyone sees in Ferid only what they want.

And what he really has in his soul remains closed, hidden and suffocates himself.

That is his soul, actually. And absolutely no one hears or see this. When Ferid even faintly tried to say something about his feeling, those around him enjoyed his depression ( his brother ), or criticized him ( his parents ), or just ignored him. ( the humans and other vampires ).

That is why he always feels completely alone, what Ferid says in chapter 112 watching Shinoa's team hug.

" Wathing them really reminds me how alone I've been my whole life. "

The real Ferid was always alone, isolated, when he tried to express himself, he was criticized, humiliated or ignored.

That is why he says that the world around him is boring, stupid, rotten. That is how he was perceived by those around him, isolated. It is a hostile world for him, in which, being himself, he has no place. And Ferid has always suffered terribly.

The abuse he suffered as a child represented an ongoing depersonalization. Ferid was not encouraged to develop as himself and grew up, as I said above, with the idea that no one could accept a " broken one " like him.

And yet he tries, despite everything, to find that Truth. Through his desire to stop the cycle of reincarnation, he wants to stop his loneliness, "intruder" destiny to which he is condemned.

But Ferid would, in fact, want to live only one life, in which he would be seen, understood for who he is, accepted, loved.

That is why 16-year-old Ferid statement that he wants to die contrasts with the fact that he said that he is totally terrified of death.

Ferid does not want to die without living. He wants to disappear from the context in which his soul is invisible to those around him, and this is the context in which he has always existed, unfortunately.

For a soul as sensitive as his, to be educated that what you feel is a failure, or that your depression is a 'joy' for others, not to be seen as yourself, but only to have labels attached to you by others, is a terrible torture.

But I hope that Ferid will eventually learn that no matter how hostile the world is, everyone's uniqueness is a gift and should be cherished. Even if he had no one to learn from to accept and love himself, even though the world and people were created out of suffering and hatred, to reincarnate endlessly for the plans of a destroyed god, maybe Ferid will learn to do it for his own soul, that man can love even when he has suffered only hatred and rejection. This ability is in all of us.

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

In closing, many thanks to the author, Takaya Kagami, for creating such a deep character. Absolutely everything about Ferid is deeply thought out and I can say, as I said before, that he is the deepest character in OnS.

And for those who recognize me as valahaliane/ theorphanprince, I was right, thanks to everyone who wanted to see through Ferid's character like I did, and maybe those who judged him harshly will see the complexity of this character now.

Feedback is welcome, if anyone reads this. And who wants, I will also write an analysis about the story of Ferid and Crowley, who is his reincarnated older brother, for those who understood.

And their story as brothers is a masterpiece, as Crowley as his older brother wanted to draw him into an alliance where the 16-year-old Ferid would be his shadow, and Ferid drew the younger vampire brother Crowley into an alliance where Crowley was controlled and Ferid's shadow. Everything is a payment for something in the past.

This plottwist sheds light on everything.

Thank you, Takaya Kagami, thank you for everything.

#ferid bathory #owari no seraph #seraph of the end #chapter 134 #owari no seraph chapter 134 #seraph of the end chapter 134 #ferid bathory character analysis

[tabswrites]

So, I'd love to hear about Sadira and the WIP she's in! 👀

👀 sure thing! (No one ever asks about this WIP so I may go off the rails a bit…) Thanks for the ask!

Sadira, a.k.a Shadow Queen a.k.a the Dark Goddess, is a minor deity from my side WIP Ascension. She directly impacts the plot but is not likely to appear in the actual story.

Around 150 years prior to the beginning of Book One, Sadira and her lover, Itis, used to be human. It was during a time of war and they came from opposing kingdoms. Sadira and Itis prayed to the Creators, Beias and Ruuve, to bring an end to the war—but the gods were done carrying out the will of humans. Instead, they gifted each of the lovers powers of their own: Itis became the Goddess of Life and Nature and helped negotiate ceasefires within her kingdom.

Sadira was given the gift of change. The Sun God Ruuve recreated her in his own image, a part human/part beast (making her the first demon). She summoned an army of others like her and together they helped end the war. Unfortunately, the humans left their gratitude on the battlefield and turned on the demons. Sadira sealed herself and the demons beneath the earth to protect them from humanity’s cruelty.

Flash forward 115 years later, and the Three Realms are in a period of darkness. Woman, unable to bear children of their own, once again begged the gods for help. They were surprised to find their wishes granted, and babies appeared all over. It was only once the children reached puberty that they realized it was Sadira who had answered their prayers— by sending her own demon children to claim their place in the world.

#answered asks #wip: ascension #OC: Sadira

[azure-wolf-227]

The Mane 6 and Spike

Some headcanons about the Mane 6 and Spike in my reboot au. Their personalities are largely unchanged from canon but stuff like appearances, family history and other things will be different.

This post is subject to updating in the future as I come up with more headcanons.

Edit: Aging up the characters for reasons.

Twilight Sparkle

15 17-years-old at the beginning of the series; turns 18 in Sweet and Elite. She is the youngest of the Mane 6.

Twilight’s birthday is in Spring as the Canterlot garden party is a Spring event.

Twilight is an early bloomer as she got her Cutie Mark when she was six years old.

Twilight is a year younger than her schoolmates as she was admitted into the School for Gifted Unicorns a year early.

Taller than the average Unicorn mare, even a Canterlotian one (Unicorns from Canterlot are usually taller than those from other places). She is still shorter than her older brother and is not very physically fit - at first.

She gains some inches after becoming an alicorn, but AJ is still the tallest of the group.

Her height (and Shining Armor’s) is due to possessing Alicorn blood from her father’s side.

Twilight has Kirin blood from her mother’s side, explaining why she sometimes bursts into flame when she’s really angry.

Before moving to Ponyville, Twilight used to look unkempt because she was more focused on her studies so she didn’t care too much about her appearance.

She wears glasses because I like how they look on Sci-Twi. Twilight’s glasses used to be thick and unflattering since she cared more about practicality than appearance. At Rarity’s advice (insistence), she switches them for nicer-looking ones.

On her mother’s family is tradition that the firstborn daughter is given the name Twilight [something]. This tradition goes back to long before Equestria was formed. The exact reason for this tradition has been lost to time but the most accepted theory is that an ancestor named Twilight did something worthy of honor.

This theory isn’t entirely wrong.

On her father’s family is tradition for the daughters to have Sparkle as part of their names in honor of the family’s founder. The sons have names that reference light ex. Shining Armor and Night Light.

Twilight is in the neurodivergent spectrum, and Owlowiscious serves in the role of service animal. (Inspired by @princess-of-the-corner).

Spike

10 11-years-old at the beginning of the series; turns 12 in Secret of my Excess. I decided to age him up a bit for reasons.

Dragon Molt occurs around the age of 13 (is dragon-puberty) so Spike goes through it sometime after Twilight’s ascension.

It is explicitly made clear from the beginning that Twilight sees Spike as her little brother, as does the rest of the Sparkle Family. In fact, Spike was officially adopted by the Sparkle Family shortly after Twilight became Celestia’s student.

I’m not very fond of how the young dragons look so anthropomorphic compared to the adults, so Spike will be more ‘animalistic.’ Meaning that he’s mostly quadrupedal. He is still cute and chubby, though.

Spike can switch between walking on four legs or two legs, using his tail to balance himself when he goes bipedal.

Dragons are magical so Spike will also know or learn dragon-specific spells.

His letter-sending firebreath is a spell that Princess Celestia taught him.

Twilight was the one who gave Spike his name. She named him after a dragon from legends.

Pinkie Pie

15 17-years-old at the beginning of the series; turns 18 in Party of One. She’s older than Twilight.

Pinkie is an early bloomer as she got her Cutie Mark when she was five.

She has Pegasus ancestry on her father’s side and Crystal Pony ancestry on her mother’s side. The Crystal Pony genes explain why her mane deflates and her color dulls when she’s sad. (This last idea was inspired by @princess-of-the-corner).

Pinkie Pie is smaller than average for an Earth Pony and is actually the smallest of the Mane 6. She is a bit chubby due to all the sweets she eats, but she also has muscles from being raised in a rock farm.

Applejack

Almost 20 21-years-old at the beginning  of the series; she’s the oldest amongst her friends, so she takes on the role of big sister to the others.

Applejack is familiar with many non-pony races since her relatives live all over the world.

Applejack is the tallest and most buff of the Mane 6; most members of the Apples are bigger than average for Earth Ponies. Big MacIntosh is still taller than her.

Rainbow Dash

17 19-years-old at the beginning of the series; a few months younger than Fluttershy.

Rainbow Dash is of average height for a Pegasus and has a streamlined body shape that is made for speed. He wings are reminiscent to those of a raptor bird.

Rarity

16 18-years-old; just a few months older than Twilight and Pinkie.

Rarity is an early bloomer as she got her Cutie Mark when she was six.

Rarity opened The Carousel Boutique and started her own business just a few months before Twilight first came to Ponyville. That it’s part of whys he’s so eager to make connections and get exposure from Canterlot.

Rarity has the average size and build of an Unicorn, being a couple on inches taller than Rainbow Dash without counting her horn, though a bit more muscular due to martial arts training. She still ranks high on Unicornian beauty standards.

Fluttershy

17 to 18 19 to 20-years-old; second oldest of the group, younger than Applejack but older than Rainbow Dash.

Her body shape is more like that of an Unicorn than a Pegasus: she’s very slim, long-limbed and delicate looking. She is taller than Rarity and Rainbow Dash. Her appearance fits Unicorn beauty standards, especially those from Canterlot.

Her wings are large and elegant, built more for graceful gliding than high-speed flight. Though she can still fly fast when necessary.

Her ears are larger than normal and tufted due to Thestral ancestry on her father’s side. She also has Earth Pony ancestry of her mother’s side.

#my little pony friendship is magic #mlp rewrite #mlp g4 reboot #twilight sparkle #mlp spike #pinkie pie #applejack #rainbow dash #rarity #fluttershy

[forgottenvice]

Divine Devotion

The second Secret Santa Fic for 2022 finished just in time for the new year. This is for Shrimp and the prompts fit so well that I actually did MBJs POV for Godmode.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43980844

Summary: Shang Qinghua had left Mobei Jun, but the demon would do anything to get him back.Even kill a god.

Excerpt:  Shang Qinghua had been gone for close to three weeks. It had taken Mobei Jun longer than he’d liked to recover from the ascension even then he wasn’t back to full strength.

But as soon as he was able to move he followed.  But his new power was as much a detriment as it was an asset.

 He felt like he was facing puberty a second time, only it was growing pains to the extreme. His demonic core throbbed with the influx of power, while his body was still too weak to properly make use of it.

 It was like learning to walk all over again, he felt shaky and uncoordinated, but he needed to find Shang Qinghua. 

His anger helped push him where his abilities failed. How dare the human leave. Shang Qinghua had promised him his life and Mobei Jun was king now. He’d have what he was owed.

#Moshang #secret santa #devoted MBJ #svsss #my writing #my fics

[pursuitseternal]

“The Second Day” of “Antics of the Newly Ascended:” staring Batstarion🦇

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader |E| 1.3K Pure antics and comedy

🦇 art by @marimosalad Link to full art

Summary: You can’t pick a lock without your Rogue, even if he is Ascnedant now. So you wait… and wait… until a new unexpected visitor flies in.

CW: Banter, Poop jokes, Tav filtering Astarion’s threats and antics, sneezes, and cute fluffy vampiric bats with an attitude 🦇 (no smut)

Previous Ch | Ao3 link | Masterist

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

“Hells, what is taking him so…flipping long?”

For a split second, you think Gale might actually swear, but no. The goody-two-shoes scout wins out in the end. You giggle anyway.

“Said he’d be back quick with a new set of lockpicks ready to go, Mister Ascendant Lord and expert of the underbelly of Baldur’s Gate…” Gale huffs and folds his arms crossly.

Karlach snorts next to you, both your backs leaning against the alley walls. You keep to the shadows, eyeing up the house you need to enter… surreptitiously. Those Flaming Fist have been everywhere lately, and you still needed your Rogue to break you in nearly everywhere in the City.

“He’s probably too busy doing Ascendant things to hurry, Gale,” Karlach chuckles, peering her horned head into the street.

“Like what?” you ask, folding your arms and pouting your lips, “what could he possibly be doing but rushing back to be with me?”

Gale rolls his eyes, seeing the wry expression on your face, he realizes you joke. “Oh, good one,” he chortles. “Oh lots of things, I would imagine if I applied my wildest musings…”

“Get to the point wizard!” Karlach slaps him on the back. “More taunting, fewer words.”

Gale sputters for air after having it knocked from his body. And you laugh at that.

Suddenly, you feel a breeze pass your face. A blur of white settles on the wall beside your head. Hanging upside down.

A fluffy white bat. It chitters at you.

“Oh shit,” Karlach jolts at the sight. “That thing is massive.”

It seems to chitter more.. proudly at that. You narrow your eyes at it… your other companions draw away a step, leaving the beast with space.

“If Astarion were here, he’d probably call it a snack and snatch it from the air…” Gale jabs, a self-confident smile on his face, proud of his own humor. His own best entertainment.

“Naw… he’s too busy picking out new fancy clothes…” Karlach peers into the street.

“Too busy trying to burst into a sea of mist…” Gale laughs.

You giggle, thinking of something he did just that morning, for an hour, “Preening his hair into a perfect coif before kissing his reflection…”

Gale’s mouth snaps shut. The bat on the wall chitters noisily again, flapping its wings as it comes to dart around your head. “That bat is all over you,” his eyes narrow, “but I’m fresh out of Speak with Animals potions for now.”

You shrug, “I don’t mind, maybe he’s lonely…” You hold out your hand, an offering to let the little mammal rest somewhere soft. “Gives me something to look after until Astarion comes back.”

“Don’t let him see you’ve got a new pet…” Gale taunts, leaning closer to peer at the creature that now rests in your palm, “He might get jealous and snap it up in his fangs.”

Does… is the bat… glaring at Gale?

You look closely, but Karlach guffaws. “Oh oh, I’ve got it. I think I know what’s keeping the Vampire Ascendant! He’s probably stuck taking his first shit in two-hundred years...”

Okay, now that bat in your palm is definitely glaring, and chittering, and… pissed. You look closely at last, it’s white fur catches the sun in shades of silver, its eyes are a deep red… almost a crimson…

You stop. “Astarion?” you murmur at the little creature, patting its head with a single finger.

It… He… bounces on your hand, chittering away, pointed little face nodding.

“For fucks sake…” Karlach groans. “How the fuck did you turn into that?”

Gale leans closer… but not too close just in case. “I’ve read that some Vampires can take forms themselves, if powerful enough.” He grins widely, “Could be ferocious werewolf, or noxious cloud…” that grin twists, “Yours is adorable, if I do say so myself, Astarion.”

You can almost hear the ire in the noises that he makes in reply. Still nonsense chatter, but the emotion is clear.

He is not amused.

“Gale, you do realize he will turn back, and he will be pissed,” you warn with a shake of your head. You freeze, a whisper tickling inside your mind as the creature in your palm twitches and rests. “Astarion says it’s not his fault you're a pack of incompetent… oh,” you pause, patting him on his head with a finger, “I’m not going to say that part, my love.”

“He’s… talking to you?” Gale twists his head and raises a brow. “Like, mind to mind?”

“Yes,” you nod, “we are just as baffled at the moment, I will be honest with you, even if he said not to tell you…” the bat starts scrabbling up your arm, chittering even more noisily than before. “Stop whining, darling. You’ll figure it out.” He comes to rest on your shoulder, hanging upside down from the seam of your shirt. “And he says he would rather you never again speculate about his bowel movements either, on pain of… I’m going to say, a severe talking to.”

“That’s not what he said is it?” Karlach guffaws.

You can’t help but let your finger scritch under his little chin as he dangles from your shoulder. “No, no,” you giggle as you watch his beady little eyes flutter shut at the petting. “He used his regular ascendantly foul mouth.”

“Well, Vampire Ascendant or not, he’s not going to be much help breaking and entering in that form, is he?” Gale snips, rolling his eyes.

“He says he would be more than happy to talk us through it, if we… oh, again? I’m not suggesting that, my pet,” you shake your head, removing your scratching finger to wag it at him. “Naughty,” you chide.

“How did you get like that anyway, Astarion?” Karlach chuffs, folding her arms and swaying on her feet.

“He sneezed,” you reply. “Oh, I wasn’t supposed to share that. I’m sorry, my love. You really should be more obvious about what is for my ears… er… mind alone.”

“Maybe…” Gale gives a mischievous grin, “if we get you to sneeze again… maybe you’ll change back to a form with fingers that can actually do some good.” He reaches into his pocket, takes out a little bit of powder, and blows.

The little bat writhes, fur standing on end, flat folded nose twitching before….

“Achoo!” The sneeze echoes off the alley walls, a burst of black mist that tingles your skin as his tall, lean and wiry body forms against your arm. You can sense his irritation, out right, cuttingly sharp annoyance lacing his angry breaths. Once the mist clears, Astarion is, in fact, glaring at you all. Crimson eyes dart from one to the next. “I am… going to fucking kill you,” he hisses.

“Shh…” you cajole, raising your finger to scritch under his smooth chin, clenched tight in his rage. Instantly, the moment you begin your gentle petting, he eases, eyes fluttering shut.

“I think he likes that, soldier,” Karlach whispers a giggle. “Do you feed him little treats when he’s a good boy?”

“Only if he gets us into that house with those dexterous hands of his,” you chuckle and slide your hand to stroke his cheek.

“Fine,” he sighs, exasperated, tired, and annoyed. “But not one of you breathes a word of this to Halsin… or Wyll… or… anyone.”

“Agreed,” Karlach slaps him on the back.

He begins rummaging his lithe fingers through his pack, turning those crimson eyes on you as you watch. “And you, my consort, don’t think I’m not going to make you pay for that mirror-kissing comment earlier…”

“Don’t think you won’t have to earn those chin scritches, my love,” you giggle in return as he flashes that fanged smirk at you.

“One more, my darling?” he purrs, watching the others start into the street already. “One for the road, one in case we die today?”

Your fingers reach quickly to oblige, his eyes closing to savor your attentive care. And you giggle, “Who can argue with that?”

#ascended astarion #ascension puberty #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x f!reader #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #batstarion #baldur’s gate astarion #astarion fic #baldur's gate 3 astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #bg3 funny #baldurs gate smut #baldursgate3 #baldur gate 3 #baldur’s gate 3 #baldur's gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldur’s gate spoilers #baldur’s gate iii

[vivifrage]

Fic Authors Self Rec

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗

Tagged by @shadowtriad! I cannot do five fics of the same fandom but I hope y'all have fun with the ones I got. This goes approximately in order of how much I recommend them.

In General

Do you like angst or hurt/comfort? Do you want to sit there and rotate your blorbo in your mind with me? Is there a chance you have a niche blorbo?

I'd say my typical fic is drama shot through with an edge of humor, or vice versa - after all, real life has ups and downs everywhere, big and small. I love writing about family relationships, grief, and banter and tomfoolery. I also have a major soft spot for cuddles and small cute things so I squeeze them in whenever I get a chance.

Our Family, An Ascension (Destiny, 175k and counting, incomplete)

The current longfic, continuing the trend of each longfic going over the past one's word count.

Eido, daughter of Misraaks, is used to doing things on her own. Growing up with a single father doing everything he could just to put food on the table, you learn that kind of thing. Misraaks, in turn, loves his daughter more than anything, and while he's endlessly busy as the Kell of the House of Light, he's there for her as much as he can be.

When unrest during the Endless Night reaches a breaking point and Eido dies, everything shatters. House Light fears they will never reconcile with Humanity. Misraaks finds himself lost facing a future without the only family he has.

Just as he starts putting the pieces together, a lone Eliksni and her bonded Ghost wander into the City. She becomes the first recorded non-Human Guardian, torn in all directions at once. Her people, whom she knows nearly nothing of, welcome her back as Eido the Scribe, the Daughter, the Apprentice, the Friend, the Savior. The Vanguard, who understand her in ways no other Eliksni could, encourage her to cut ties and free herself from expectations she doesn't know how to navigate, to become her own person.

What's a dead girl supposed to do?

Broken Open Revealing Hollowness and Vibrance (Hollow Knight, 155k, complete)

Apparently managed to get to second most kudos in the Hollow Knight tag while I wasn't watching! So uh, there's a solid chance that people have read this. Ah well. I still like it.

After the Infection is destroyed, Hornet's dead kingdom lurches back to life. She must tend to her ailing sibling, rally the people into a new form of government, one less dependent on the gods, and come to terms with her life.

Over and over, she finds places where the Little Ghost made their mark. Over and over, she finds one more thing she must grapple with. Those who are lost and those who are found, friends new and old, even the trouble of beginning bug puberty again after an untold amount of time in stasis.

The only way they will pull through this is together, and together they will make each other stronger.

Elegies, Memories, Things That Never Were (Hollow Knight, chapter length varies, each chapter is complete)

A ficlet collection, not a single fic, but if you want something to read without biting off an entire novel, this one's for you. Snippets of various scenarios I think up starring many different characters. Heed the author's notes!

My Whumptober 2021 Tag (Various, all complete)

Do you like suffering? (With some comfort still but hey the title's the title.) If you're reading my stuff... yeah probably a little bit. These feature short ficlets revolving around the prompt and some of my favorite things - physical and certain kinds of emotional pain. This one features stuff that usually doesn't see the public eye, such as one of my original settings (not a fanfic, but hey. It's the one with the Diver), and some "you need to be multiple headcanons deep for this" setting things. Including both of my headcanons for Eido's bio-parents getting a couple ficlets. Absolutely watch the warnings.

We Are Tenno (Warframe, 51k, complete)

An oldie now, but in my heart, still a goodie. A change in pace from my usual narration - this one's an epistolary story, told via entries in Mag's journal. Oh, and also a setting where warframes are sentient separate from their Operator, though regular, Prime, and Umbral warframes handle that bond and Void energy in general differently.

Probably the goofiest of my stuff, and definitely the goofiest of the longfics. While it has more serious moments the same way the others have silly ones, it's hard to escape shenanigans when you're a bunch of terrifyingly tough biomechanical war machines in a symbiotic relationship with a magical teenager. Especially when you add in personalities like Frost Prime, bullheaded dumbass extraordinaire, and Limbo, local math nerd with chaos for a middle name. Even Stalker himself can't avoid getting caught in it.

Let's do five writers for five fics! @ruthlesslistener, @publiccmenace, @actingwithportals, @banyanas, and @dedicatedfollower467, if y'all wanna rec your fics, go ham!

#Destiny 2 #Warframe #Hollow Knight #jaxx writes

[melonisopod]

See i think Koyama 100% knows how convey character through body language. I think they’re REALLY good at it; i dont think they accidentally made Lancer Scathach that intrinsically infuriating to look at.

Considering i just learned that Lartoria and Lalter’s hentai-level-bad third ascensions were because the artist was explicitly told by Nasu to replace what the artist originally intended with something “just for fanservice”, i think Koyama is another case of a writer stepping in and giving a specific requirement. He was probably explicitly told to make Scathach look like a “delicate flower” or wtf ever and delivered. Summer Assassin, whose whome deal is dropping the bullshit pretenses of Lancer, is still Koyama’s design after all, and that delivered on her in an GOOD way.

Yeah, there are apparently lots of artists who have similar testimonies, where they wanted to do one thing and then Takeuchi told them to make it worse (see: Disgea artist who wanted an older more dignified Wu Zetian and eve said "How do I put sex appeal on a body that has none?" hot Russian military lady Helena Blavatzky concept art, B-suke who wanted a more 'dignified' serious Blackbeard design instead of that crap we got for his FA just to name a few)

Lancer Artorias could have stuck with small boobs (since you know, her whole thing is being able to pass for male because her society would never accept a female king) and in their card art their boobs literally look glued on. Could they have at least made them a foot taller since she's, you know, an older grown-up Artoria who went through puberty? (The only reason I even give big boobs Artoria a pass is because when I see the Royal Icing CE I feel homosexuality upon me)

It's a shame though because Scathach's FA is OOC, I feel like she's held back in general by having to do these awkward 'sexy' poses that dont' fit her character. Compare her to Cu Chulainn whose FA art is dynamic and shows him mid-battle with Gae Bolg overflowing with mana, or even Cu Alter manspreading atop a mountain of bones. Takeuchi really looked at one of the *promotional* Servants for FGO and said "Nah if she's not in the most passive submissive borderline ecchi poses how is she going to sell well? We can't let the players know she fucks!"

#ask #takeuchi ruins so much artistic vision for everyone else #imagine seeing helena's scrapped design and thinking the final product was an upgrade #oh and also short-hair lancelot #he made shimadrill give lancelot short hair even though he objectively looks better wearing it long

[ahb-writes]

Comics Review: 'Forest Hills Bootleg Society'

Forest Hills Bootleg Society by Dave Baker, Nicole Goux

coming of age

queer

slice of life

suburban teen life

My Rating: 2 of 5 stars

Cluttered. One needn't peruse more than a dozen pages to find the word that best articulates the indelicate disarray of FOREST HILLS BOOTLEG SOCIETY. Chatty narration. Clumsy lettering. Overindulgent worldbuilding. Coming-of-age stories are often messy in their own right, but this is just a messy story. The apparent eagerness to cram a low-key adventure full of "interesting" information never marries its righteous equivalent to what actually qualifies as necessary.

This graphic novel's weaknesses rest in the creative team's many presumptions on the part of the reader. The difficult and sad truth of FOREST HILLS BOOTLEG SOCIETY is that it's a lovingly drawn book with clever and comparatively relatable characters. However, the creative team attempts to wean readers onto the sleepy suburban proclivities of Forest Hills, California, U.S. through myriad, decadent character charts, irrelevant city maps, unavailing side conversations, and other narrative quirks — none of which carry information that is especially relevant to the book's actual story. The graphic novel has, in effect, a lot of clutter.

Readers need to know Brooke and Kelly are awkward lesbian teens with no real clue how to invest in a serious relationship. That's important stuff. Brooke is achingly codependent and constantly hunting for belonging. Kelly is an impatient otaku who, like most teens, accidentally wields her worldly ignorance in an effort to grow up too fast. However, readers will be hard-pressed to pry out these details in time to make sense of them. Why? Because the book actively distracts far more than it informs. Do readers care that a random side character is reading the diary belonging to an unknown tertiary character's sister? Do readers need to know the city's largest office building was constructed in 1987? Do readers need to waste time reading a full page detailing "a brief history of a textiles manufacturing plant" to supplement a passing reference to an idiot celebrity's overpriced jacket?

Readers need to know that "lawful good" Maggie is the prototypical, god-fearing good girl destined for corruption the instant she's fed praise. Readers need to know that Melissa, despite being the friendly foursome's smartest character, is completely lacking in direction and motivation. That's important stuff. Maggie's working-class household contrasts her vehement religious piety, which itself contrasts her friends' curse-laden joke-telling despite their attending a private school across town. Melissa, meanwhile, is at war with puberty and has no one to talk to about it. But, again, one must peel away the narrative nonsense to discern what's worthy of attention. Do readers care about the daily hygiene habits of a character who appears only twice in the whole book? Do readers need to know that almost all of the named adult characters are ensconced in dishonest or illegal partnerships? Do readers need to know multiple, unenlightening details about a character with a lisp who comprises less than one-eighth of a page?

FOREST HILLS BOOTLEG SOCIETY is difficult to read. Not because its characters are irredeemably dumb (alas, all teenagers are), but because there's so much noise that one finds the reading experience that much harder to endure to enjoy the good stuff.

The book's four protagonists form a small ring of bootleg sales between the city's two high schools. The girls prioritize kitschy, sultry anime romps clearly designed for wayward adults, and make some good scratch in the process. But Brook's hunger for status (and the attention of anyone of status), Kelly's ascension as a loudmouthed Japanophile, Maggie's impoverished Christianity, and Melissa's roving insecurity frequently clog the gears of the girls' comical money-making enterprise. Sure, it'd be nice if they had enough money to get matching jackets and all, but what about that cool-people party invite? What about hanging out at the local burger joint? What about building out their personal hobbies?

These trials and tribulations crisscross and overlap with assorted coming-of-age dilemmas. For example, one character questions her sexuality when she realizes she might gain more camaraderie from a girl with similar problems than from elsewhere. Further, another girl's impetuosity gives her group of friends its trademark, kick-butt ambiance, yet wreaks havoc on her personal relationships when push comes to shove. If FOREST HILLS BOOTLEG SOCIETY were a more calculated, prose novel, instead of a frenzied graphic novel, then these and other characters would have flourished more earnestly.

Visually, the book pulls together smart and charismatic character designs that gift readers, occasionally, a qualitative nuance of the relational dynamics buried beneath everything else. Introverted Maggie is short with stubby legs, covers herself with layers, and generally looks confused most of the time. Brooke, whose worst habit is trying too hard, is overly expressive, excitable, and has trouble sitting still. Hilariously, Kelly, the anime fan, is the graphic novel's only character without a dimensional nose.

FOREST HILLS BOOTLEG SOCIETY is more consumable graphically than it is on purely narrative terms, but by degrees. The character art is great and the book's varying page compositions is solid, but the title's occasional merging of the script's chaos with visual chaos is inevitable. Sometimes, one finds these graphic interludes build out the scene quite well, as with filmstrips or a collage of inset panels that serve as makeshift montages, or when the reader encounters six consecutive panels without dialogue to emphasize social alienation. But most of the time, instead of integrating readers into the scene, the opposite happens, as with the various maps of the town, almost all locations of which are irrelevant; or with the book's multiple folio inserts, containing a full-page of character, family, or city background information of little or no value; or through one-on-one panel conversations overloaded with dialogue; or with dozens of character-intro word balloons packed with worthless information.

The clutter, again, makes this graphic novel a difficult book to read. One cannot be blamed for burrowing through the first dozen pages, sighing in exhaustion, and rationalizing the book just isn't worth the energy. The arcs these characters traverse and the problems they face tiptoe on the edge of plausibility given how thoroughly and how often the details that matter are drowned out by the details that don't. For example, does it matter that the popular girl is constantly skimming money from her friends? Maybe. Does it matter that domestic infidelity and domestic abuse are rampant in this little nook of American suburbia? Possibly. But readers will never know, because they can't get away from the stringent, clumsy, and deliberate indulgences of the creative team's hard-worldbuilding notes to finally reach the more credible, valuable experiences necessary for character growth.

Another example rests in the inconsistent treatment of curse words. Most curse words in FOREST HILLS BOOTLEG SOCIETY are swapped with grawlixes, the typographical symbols and markings that replace individual letters. Grawlixes are not uncommon, by any measure, but for some strange reason, FOREST HILLS BOOTLEG SOCIETY goes overboard. Most of the characters in this book use profanity, and most other characters don't care. Yet, for some reason, most curse words are censored. Even further complicating the matter, the censorship is inconsistent. Why are exceedingly common words like bitch and dyke censored, while tits isn't? Sometimes, shit is scrubbed in all its forms, but sometimes, it isn't. Elsewhere, harmless or worn-out turns of phrases like shitface, slag, asshole, and pussy are censored. In some cases, the disembodied narrator's speech is censored, which defies logic. In other cases, the grawlixes work a little too well, rendering the original (implied) profanity completely indecipherable. It's a mess.

One might assemble an argument to use grawlixes to muffle some etymologically benign but culturally (regionally) agitated words (e.g., cunt), but the graphic novel's awkward and mercurial application of substitute letters, in such raucous abundance, pulls one out of the story incredibly quick. Whether a consequence of author preference, editor preference, publisher mandate, or as a victim of corporate zealotry on the part of book distributors, the end result is a subpar reading experience.

FOREST HILLS BOOTLEG SOCIETY is a difficult read. Inconvenient and querulous highlights frequently distract readers from absorbing an otherwise curious tale of "kids being kids," teenagers who may or may not be coming into their own. This graphic novel cannot get out if its own way. Readers learn so many details about the characters and the city at the heart of this story, but almost all of those details go nowhere or have no fundamental bearing on the arc of the narrative itself.

And for what details do exist, they persist in fits and starts, leaving inexplicable plot holes to linger. For example, the story takes place in 2005, yet none of the characters have access to the internet or cable television. Further, anime's popularity in the U.S. at this time was significantly more saturated than the graphic novel implies. Kids driving to an out-of-town gas station to purchase random DVDs from a drugged-out loner makes for a good laugh, but is impractical when, in 2005, anime can be easily purchased in music stores, malls, and specialty film shops all across the country; regularly appears on standard and cable TV; and seasonally invades local popular culture (e.g., Why don't the characters know they live extraordinarily close to the largest anime convention on the continent?).

❯ ❯ Comics Reviews || ahb writes on Good Reads

#forest hills bootleg society #graphic novel #comics review #review #dave baker #nicole goux #suburban kids #kids being kids #2 of 5 stars #goodreads #clumsy narration #clumsy lettering #indulgent worldbuilding #messy book

[marvelgurl789]

<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/52767922"><strong>Antics of the Newly Ascended</strong></a> (10039 words) by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/PursuitsEternal"><strong>PursuitsEternal</strong></a><br />Chapters: 4/?<br />Fandom: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Baldur&#39;s%20Gate%20(Video%20Games)">Baldur&#39;s Gate (Video Games)</a><br />Rating: Explicit<br />Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply<br />Relationships: Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Reader, Astarion/Tav (Baldur's Gate)<br />Characters: Astarion (Baldur's Gate), Tav (Baldur's Gate), Wyll (Baldur's Gate), Karlach (Baldur's Gate), Gale (Baldur's Gate), Shadowheart (Baldur's Gate), Lae'zel (Baldur's Gate)<br />Additional Tags: “Ascension Puberty”, what if learning his Ascended powers comes in awkward ways and surprising times, comedy and smut, Fluff and Smut, Awkward campmates, “First day as Ascended Astarion”, Bride/Spawn Tav learns her new powers too, soft Ascended Astarion, Top Astarion (Baldur's Gate), Bottom Astarion (Baldur's Gate), dom astarion, sub Astarion, Oral Sex, Anal Fingering, Blood Kink, Blood Drinking, Vampire Sex, Vampire Ascendant Astarion (Baldur's Gate)<br />Series: Part 3 of <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/series/3902392">How to Tame Your Exalted Vampiric Master</a><br />Summary: <p>“I can’t yet speak its language…” Astarion doesn’t know all his powers, despite the title of Vampire Ascendant, despite having a Bride at his side. Suppose these manifest themselves surprisingly, even awkwardly… a bit of comedy and smut.</p>

[thebluelittlewitch2-thesequel]

I'm sorry, what do you mean by "puberty hit her hard"? I assume you mean Twilight but she was a grown mare in season 1.

You can easily compare to actual Elementary students age 8 to 10 who had not hit puberty.

Unless you're implying that when a pony ascends to Alicornhood they restart their life cycle.

Great art, very confusing commentary.

I was just joking cause like suddenly growing up to the size of an alicorn after being a normal pony for most of your life sounds kinda like puberty

Tho whatever is going on with the alicorn body changes thing can be kinda like a second puberty

I don't think ponies would restart their life cycle when ascending to alicorns it's more like your body suddenly starts growing again

I think it happens gradually cause twilight has been an alicorn for a while during the series yet we never saw her grow an inch but in the finally she was tall after what i assume is a lot of years (i mean the main 6 don't look that much older but the cmc are like adults ig?)

Alicorn ascension is like transing your gender lmao

#sorry for the confusion my joke caused i just say stuff sometimes #i have absolutely no knowledge on alicorn lore like i know they're like royalty ig

[cartasdecienanos]

3. REMEDIOS

“It seemed as if some penetrating lucidity permitted her to see the reality of things beyond any formalism.” (177) Estimado/a: Remedios La Bella is one of the most fascinating characters in the novel, the daughter of Arcadio and Santa Sofia La Piedad, she’s described as possessing an otherworldliness in demeanor as well as beauty. Marquez writes, “…her nature rejected all manner of convention".(176) Meanwhile, she is also at once innocent yet deadly inadvertently causing the deaths of men who fall in love her. Buendía family members like Ursula regard her as simple minded and naive, feeling the need to guard her from the world. Marquez writes that she needed to be dressed by her mother well into her years of puberty and monitored so that she wouldn’t smear her feces on the house walls.

Her beauty is said to be the cause of several men’s deaths and allowed her to be crowned Queen in Macondo’s carnival. Furthermore, she ascends to the heavens as Fernanda watches in later chapters. Her character is an example of both magical realism and myth. Her beauty is mythic as word travels throughout the region of the most beautiful woman in the world while the scene of her ascension can most certainly be attributed to one of Marquez’ effective use of magical realism in the novel. On our trip, Remedios La Bella was the name of a boutique hotel in Cienaga. In my opinion, the establishment did justice to the character in reflecting her beauty and charms. There was colorful furniture, stunning architecture accompanied by vibrant flowers and verdant plants. Each room was also named after female characters in Marquez’ works. Furthermore, we too followed in Remedios’ footsteps and ascended to the heavens by climbing the hotel’s spiral staircase to the terrace where a magnificent view of Cienaga and the Sierra Nevada Mountains awaited us.