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thedreamlessnights · 5 months

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Hi! I’ve got a request for Astarion and Dark Urge Tav. Like they got together through act 1 and 2 and confessed their feelings for each other, but when they go to see Gortash become Arch Duke Tav realizes that she used to be lovers with Gortash before her memory was wiped. Queue angst and hurt/comfort and fluff and hhhhh Gortash loses plssss

I absolutely loved this concept and had so much fun writing it! Dark Urge's route changed me as a person, and I honestly feel like it's a perfect match for Astarion. Thank you so much for sending this in, and I hope you enjoy!

Aching (Astarion x F!Reader - Dark Urge)

Warnings: Major spoilers for Act III of Baldur's Gate - particularly for the Dark Urge playthrough. Mentions of blood, killing, death, and suicidal ideation. Dark Urge being Dark Urge. Hurt/comfort, self-loathing, angst with a happy ending.

Word Count: 4.6k

Like so many other things, the sight of Lord Enver Gortash tugs at a painful spot in your skull.

You’ve come to differentiate them: the gaping, aching tug of your lost memories and the sharp, swift yank of the tadpole. Somehow, his presence pulls at both of them in equal measure. There’s something on the edge of your tongue, but it won’t be said. A memory behind your eyes, but it won’t be seen.

One thing is clear enough - you know this man. For better or worse, the two of you have met before.

Karlach clears her throat behind you, and you return to yourself: not lost in the dark void of your memories, not consumed by the itch for blood. Wyrm’s Crossing.

Gods, you’d nearly forgotten. You’re in the middle of a throne room, surrounded by dozens of people, here for the coronation. Wyll’s father stands in the center of the room, all but a meat puppet under the Absolute’s control.

The Absolute, which Gortash is a part of.

The soon-to-be Archduke sees you, and something shifts in his gaze. His expression softens. Given all the trouble you’ve been causing for him, that expression comes as a shock - but what he says next is jarring to your core.

“Dearest patriars, but a moment,” he requests. “I must greet a most important guest.” He strolls toward you, arms spread wide as he steps forward, and smiles. “Crawling back from her bloody disgrace - it’s my favorite assassin! Gods, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

And suddenly, you are two pieces of a whole. One longs to step forward, knowing him, wanting him. The other longs for nothing more than to jolt away from him - from the misery you know he’s been causing. Not only to you, or even Karlach, but to your home; Baldur’s Gate.

“Hang on,” Karlach says. “What? You know each other?”

As if you could have possibly known that. As if you’d been willfully keeping it from her. As if your amnesia is a silent betrayal.

“We have important matters to address,” Gortash says dismissively. “My reunion with Karlach can wait.”

Gods, it’s all too much. You’re trying to think, but your mind is swimming in front of your eyes. Your skull throbs. Your heart thuds unevenly in your chest. Something in you is fundamentally disrupted.

“Don’t talk to me,” you manage to spit out. “Talk to her.”

After all, she deserves it. Ten years in Avernus, a flaming engine in her chest, a slow, painful oncoming death that none of you can prevent - or at least, not while she’s refusing to go back to the hells. She deserves a talk with the man who betrayed her. More than anything.

But Gortash won’t be swayed so easily, it seems. “No offense to my old friend,” he says, not even bothering to look at Karlach, “but it’s you I have been dying to see. After all, you abandoned us some time ago, leaving a rather uncomfortable hole in our plans.”

Fond. His expression is unmistakably fond.

You don’t know what plans he’s talking about, though. What to say to him? Should you treat him like a friend, exploit his familiarity down to the hilt for the sake of the information you might obtain? Should you be honest and find out more of your lost self? Do you even want to?

As it turns out, it doesn’t matter what you’re planning to say. Gortash sees your face, and that’s enough. “Oh, I’d forgotten,” he remarks, “your memories are quite lost, aren’t they? Orin told me she’d made a fool of you.”

Orin. A picture flashes in front of your mind. Warm blood, oozing from a gash in your head, streaming down into your eyes. A sharp, fierce tug of betrayal that digs into your chest, sours in your mouth like milk.

Then, another image. A recent memory: Orin. A gruesome suit of skin. A bloodthirsty tongue. The Netherstone in hand.

But Gortash is still talking.

“To think you and Karlach traveled together all this time, and she hadn’t the faintest you were one of my nearest and dearest,” he’s saying.

Karlach tenses, and you suddenly feel sick. Your hands go slick with sweat, and you can feel, not see but feel, the others silently fuming behind you.

All of this is adding up to one big, horrific picture. A conclusion you despise but can’t deny. Something affectionate in your chest. The admiration in his gaze. The way he’d greeted you. Nearest and dearest.

Lovers. You and Gortash were lovers.

The walk back to camp is the most painful of your life - that you can recall, at least. You’d rather be feral again, tied up like an animal on your bedroll, attempting to bite Astarion.

Part of you wishes you’d decimated Gortash the moment you’d laid eyes on him. If you had, all of this could have been avoided. The swirling guilt in your stomach for something you don’t even remember. The sting of reproof from nearly every single one of your companions. The betrayal in their eyes.

You’d done this. All of it. The Absolute, the march on the city, the tadpole now squirming around in your brain. You and Gortash had planned this out, and now you’ve fallen victim to it.

It seems like a disconnected idea, a person you can’t imagine being. The further you go on, the less you recognize your old self. The more you despise it.

Gale had certainly chewed you out. Karlach isn’t talking to you. Gods, even Shadowheart is angry. Shadowheart, who should know more than anyone else what this is like.

Astarion, at least, doesn’t seem as upset as the others. He’s liked his tadpole for the most part. Is some odd part of him grateful for your role in this? For the power it’s given him? You can’t tell.

You should be able to tell, shouldn’t you?

When the silence becomes unbearable, you grab a bottle of Berduskan Dark as a peace offering and join him at his tent, crawling through the entrance and sprawling yourself over his various pillows. “Do you hate me tonight, too?” you ask lightly.

He raises a brow and rolls one of his shoulders, feigning annoyance. “Oh, I don’t know,” he says, his tone teasing and casual. “It’s not often I find out the woman I’m with is behind a horrible, malicious scheme to control an elder brain.”

Your words of penance fall flat even before they’ve touched your tongue, so you pour him a glass of wine in response.

He smiles. “Trying to win me over, darling?” he asks, tilting his head. “You’ve caused quite the commotion around camp, you know. Gale is positively furious.”

That sensation of guilt comes again, but this time, it’s overpowering. It makes you want to crumple in on yourself, to erase the horrid, evil parts of you that are left like bloodstains on a white shirt; things that won’t be scrubbed away, present and never-escapable.

“I didn’t know,” you start, firmly but barely kept together. “I swear, I had no idea-”

“Relax, dearest,” Astarion says. “As you know, me and the tadpole are the best of friends. No need to explain.” He pauses. “Although,” he says, suddenly becoming very interested in inspecting the brim of his glass, “you and Gortash seemed to be old friends, too.”

You know what he’s asking you, and you don’t have it in yourself to lie to him. Instead, you slowly nod, pouring yourself a glass of the wine, too. Gods, do you need it.

“We were lovers, I think,” you finally answer. “I can’t remember anything about it, but… the way he talked to me. It seemed like we were more than friends.”

He pulls a face. “Well. I certainly hope he won’t be serving as my competition. You can do so much better.”

You stare at him: the sudden tension in his shoulders, the pasted-on, confident smile that plays on his lips, the dark glint to his gaze.

“You’re jealous.”

He scoffs. “Jealous?” he exclaims, laughing a little. “Of course I’m not jealous. Honestly - it’s hilarious. A Bhaalspawn and Bane’s chosen. In another life, I would have been rooting for the two of you.”

But there’s a crease between his brows, and he won’t quite look at you. You reach out for his hand, and his expression softens. He playfully rolls his eyes, but he takes your hand all the same. “And what is our vicious little mastermind thinking about?” he asks, leaning toward you.

“I’m thinking,” you say, “that Lord Gortash could never compare to you.”

“Oh?” he asks, moving in a little further. He loves preening for compliments, and you love treating him to them. “Do go on, dearest.”

You trail your thumb over his knuckles. “Well, he’s clearly nowhere near as handsome as you are.”

Astarion tilts his head. “Of course he isn’t. The man couldn’t hope to compare with a… world-endingly handsome vampire.” He squeezes your hand, lifting a brow. “Anything else?”

You can’t help smiling now. “His taste in clothing is awful. Didn’t you see his boots?” you ask. “Tacky.”

He scowls. “I did. Horrendous, honestly. And at his coronation, no less,” he remarks, tutting. “Well. I’m glad to see your standards have improved, darling.”

“As am I.” You take a sip of your wine, swirling it in your hand, enjoying the feel of Astarion’s grasp in the other.

With him, you can almost forget the worst parts of yourself. The others, as much as you love them, only make your crimes seem so much worse. There’s a constant forgiveness sought with each conversation, a debt you can never repay that lingers underneath the way they see you. But not with him.

He mirrors you. He sees you. What you really are, not what you were, not the echo of your old life. All your past grievances, well… those don’t matter to him. Everything you’ve done, he considers himself worse.

Part of you thinks - if the two of you actually make it through, that is - that bit by bit, you may actually heal. Maybe, you’ll actually have a life with him beyond the tadpoles, and beyond Baldur’s Gate. Maybe, the two of you will build something far beyond those who once controlled you.

And then the night comes.

You leave Astarion in his tent to trance, telling him you mean to sleep even though you have no intention of doing so. You never rest well, but it’s aggravated, lately. The Urge is always at its worst during the night. The shadows reflect your darkest self back at you, and your fingers itch for blood. Your mind becomes a haze of gore. Your teeth fix on a tender part of your cheek and press down until you taste iron.

You’d like to say that this part of you is a clean split from the other - that it’s easy to tell where the Urge ends and you begin - but it’s not. Your thoughts so often drift. You’d been the one feeling that sickening sense of satiation when Alfira lay dead at your feet, her blood drying on your skin. And it’s you who feels a strange tug toward Gortash - some lingering yearning that won’t be scrubbed away.

And you try. Gods, do you try. You take a rag and sit at the river and rub until your skin is raw, trying to get the metaphorical blood off your hands, trying to cleanse yourself of the want that pulls at your chest when Gortash slips into your thoughts.

But it doesn’t work. It doesn’t work at all.

The way you want Astarion feels different. It’s grounded. Natural. Being around him feels as easy as breathing. Gortash, though: there’s something so very strong there, something ripened with time and obsessive, almost. Something that wants him no matter what you tell yourself.

You want to win this. You want to look at the faces around camp and tell them that their faith in you is not misplaced; that you are capable of what they want you to be. You’re more than the monster in your thoughts. When you’d resisted killing Isobel and Astarion despite your butler’s commands, you’d thought there was a chance for that to happen - for you to become something outside of your murderous tendencies.

Now, you’re not so sure.

Your role in the creation of the Absolute has changed things. This feels… unforgivable. Not that Alfira’s death wasn’t already unforgivable, not that you haven’t already sinned enough, but… it’s tallying up to a truly heinous amount of perversion that you can’t fathom anyone here tolerating, much less accepting. Astarion, maybe, but he deserves better than this.

You’ve already tremendously ruined things, and on top of that, you find out you were responsible for turning all of the people you care about into thralls?

It’s enough to shake you to your core. Enough to sow doubt in your mind, spreading like a slow poison through the veins of your thoughts, slowly choking them away, slowly consuming you.

You really might lose.

Gods, are you strong enough to win the long-fought battle against yourself? Do you have it in you to completely turn away from your past? You won’t give in without a fight, of course, but what chance do you have against Bhaal when he’s in your very mind, rooting himself into every inch of you?

In the days, you have hope, but in the nights, when you’re alone, you feel certain you’re doomed. That perhaps, this side of you will take over, and you’ll be absolutely helpless to stop it.

The true question is this: when the darkness takes over, will you still exist; forever trapped in the body you once had control over? Or will Bhaal’s presence ravage you, body and soul, and leave nothing of the thing you once were?

You really can’t decide which is worse.

You’re used to your hands shaking, by now. Your fingers have often trembled around the hilt of your blade, itching to drive your knife deep into sweet, bleeding flesh.

This is different.

It’s fear that takes your body, not the Urge. Fear that compels you, not Bhaal. Are you afraid to lose to Orin, or afraid of what you might become?

Astarion stands behind you, observant but tense. The two of you have come so far now that it almost seems foolish to think of losing. He’d defeated Cazador. He’d resisted the Ascension. If he’d found it in himself to turn away from his darkness, can’t you?

Yet, some part of you still thinks you might disappoint him. Some part of you still fears the monster that lies within yourself.

Astarion rests a hand on your shoulder, knowing you all too well. “You can do this,” he says, lightly squeezing. “I know you can.”

And the sheer, beautiful belief in his eyes - belief in you - is enough to have a little hope again. Not much, but some. You can do this.

You step into the center of the circle, hands around your blade, and you believe.

It all goes by in a blur.

Orin is a viper, tightening her strokes around you, striking fast and hard. Her movements are rapid and graceful, her dance lithe and experienced. Even in her slayer form, there’s a deadly beauty to her actions. Every slash, every wound she inflicts on your skin, is a vicious reminder that she’s nothing but practiced in this regard.

Perhaps she’s forgotten, but you are, too. And, this time, your pride doesn’t blind you to the threat she poses.

Your body moves instinctively; for once, you let the Urge guide you freely. You leap out of the way of her claws, dig your blade into her side. When the scent of blood hits the air, you rejoice. When you feel pain, you bask in it.

Flashes of your past echo in front of your eyes - being in the pod, blood gushing into your eyes. You remember the agony of her betrayal, the fear as you’d smashed your skull into the glass again and again and again. Anything to escape what she’d done.

It’s despair that takes over you, not fear. It’s your fury that deals the final blow, not the Urge. And when Orin finally falls, your blade in her ribs up to the hilt, you feel no relief, no satiation.

Only grief. Nothing but grief.

You don’t know what you mourn for - your old self? The life she’d robbed you of? No - no, you despise your past. You despise who you were. So what tugs at your chest this tenderly? What force brings you to your knees?

For just a moment, you almost forget about Bhaal.

Of course, he won’t be forgotten - not here, not in his own domain. Not when you’re his creation. Sceleritas Fel is in front of you, applauding your victory, calling you the Chosen One.

“He is near,” he says. “He comes for you.”

Fear flutters through your chest. Bhaal’s Chosen. It tempts you, even now. The Urge has slithered into the very heart of you, kept somewhere in your ribs, so dark and alluring that you can barely breathe.

It salivates at the sight of the blade slicing through your butler’s chest, sways at the sight of his blood. His body rises, limp and lifeless, and it’s all you can do to stare, still breathless from the fight, still silently devastated, as more blades cut through the skin one by one - impaling him until his blood seeps onto the stone below; dark, crimson liquid shining over the cold floor.

And in his reflection, you find Bhaal.

He is everything you’ve felt in the Urge and more - the sweet whispers of death in your ear. He’s the honeyed tone that compels you to serve him, compels you to bring forth destruction in his name. In chaos, he triumphs, and in blood, he revels.

This is a gift. An offering to you, his Chosen.

You could accept. You could stop fighting against your destiny, against this thing you were born to become. You could do what he asks, and wreak beautiful havoc on this world. You’re exhausted. Every muscle in your body aches - not from Orin, but from this never-ending fight against yourself.

How strong you could become, remedied of these burdens. How well you would please your father. It would be so easy. All you’d have to do is accept…

And then you see Astarion.

His face is paler than usual, a tension in his shoulders, a quiet exhaustion in his eyes. You see him now, as he is, and you see him as he was in the ritual chamber: the temptation of power right beneath his grasp, begging to be taken. He’d sacrificed so much. The light of the sun on his face. The relief of hunger. The burial of his shame. All of these, he’d refused, but he’s finally free. He wants that for you, and you want it, too.

No matter the cost.

So you refuse. You look Bhaal in the eye and refuse his gift, knowing what it will mean for you. And when he threatens your life, you refuse again. No matter the cost, you think. Death is freedom in its own way.

The sudden agony that wracks through your body is unlike any you’ve ever known. It boils through your blood, singes body and soul, brings down you to your knees with the very force of it. Your chest seems to cave in on itself, expelling your inheritance to Bhaal with every beat of your heart.

Even when he lifts a hand and raises you into the air, you feel crushed - suffocated. Your teeth grind against each other, your skull throbs in agonzing waves, blood flows steadily over your tongue. Your heart slows, your essence fades. Sharp, blinding pain overtakes your vision until all that’s left of you is the shallow, scraping breath in your lungs.

All at once, everything fades, and you’re left in darkness.

And in the darkness, there is finally peace.

Being revived feels like a cruelty. Death is sweet and calm and simple. Emptiness. Oblivion. It is silent, and you are grateful.

Until you’re not.

You’re not, because you’re no longer dead. Something rips you from your painless sense of stillness - throws you back into the misery of life. You fight against it, but it’s pointless; you have no say in this, and it will take you where it desires.

You find yourself in flesh again, find the familiar sensation of your tender skin. You find yourself before Withers, bruised and broken, but reborn.

He’s a sight for sore eyes, but there’s something else that lies in your chest. A silence that hasn’t been there since… since before you’d woken up on the nautiloid, confused and alone, not a memory to be found aside from meaningless scraps and a face you didn’t recognize.

The Urge is gone. All that’s left is you.

It feels empty.

This should feel heroic, this return of yours that leaves you panting with the throes of death, covered in blood and on your knees. You’re back, you’re alive, and gods, you’re glad to see your friends and your lover, but it’s empty.

You deserved to die, didn’t you? It was your horrible knowledge, the one you kept tucked away even from Astarion. That never-ending guilt. After your crimes, after all the horrid things you’ve done with these hands, this body, before you’d lost your memory - you’d most certainly deserved to be put down.

You don’t dare look at Astarion, but you look at Withers. Surely, he must know what you are. Surely, he must know what you’ve done.

“I deserve to die,” you tell him, your voice shaking as much as your body. “For all the evil I have done.”

Withers stares at you, his expression unchanged. “The sole way to atone for thine actions is to do better, in a new dawn,” he says - and gods, he smiles. He’s proud of you, you realize. Proud of your resistance. “That dawn has come,” he announces.

And if he will not be swayed, you suppose you won’t, either. You’re alive, whether you like it or not. Whatever pieces are left of you and the life you might live, you’ll put them together. You’ve done it before, and you’ll do it again.

The important thing is that you’re finally free.

“Bhaal tried to extinguish thee,” Wither observes, “but his wrath is imprecise. He only succeeded in killing the part of thee he knew. The Urge that drove thee to terrible acts. The spark of brutality that made thee his. But there is a new part of you that hath grown during thy travels. That part, Bhaal could not extinguish. And so, instead of destroying thee, he hath made thee anew.”

“You get to start over,” Astarion says. He gazes at you, a mixture of leftover fear and relief and care. “To be the person you want to be. Not what someone else made you to be.”

And gods - even in the worst of yourself, you know that he sees you - wants you, all the same. If you’re at his side, you’re sure you can do anything.

“Greet the bloodless dawn, child of none,” Withers says, and for once in the shabby remembrance of your life, the guilt that haunts you finally sweeps away.

Gortash knows you’re coming, you think. After your stint at the Iron Throne and the foundry that now lies in ash, he must. Your memories are mostly lost to the aether, but you do know this - he’s no fool.

Still, when you see him again, there’s that strange, leftover twinge of your past. It’s dead now; whatever warmth there was in his presence has become ice. Your old self has died along with your Urge, rotted away like your need for blood. After all, the part of you he cared for was maniacal. Brutal. Not as bad as Orin, perhaps, but deranged. It sickens you to know he cared for someone like that, when you’ve despised yourself so.

It sickens you even more to know that he knows no guilt for his actions. How much have you suffered over your own deeds? How often have you awoken in sweat, drenched from head to toe with the fleeting remnant of your past deeds tainting your mind?

And here he is, smug and so sure - of himself, of this path, of Bane. And he knows no regret, or guilt, he makes no apologies. A part of you may have once loved him, but no more. Whatever he’d once seen in you, it no longer remains.

You wonder if he can tell. After all you’ve done to him, after the havoc you’ve wreaked on his plan, does he realize that the person he cared for no longer exists? He seems not to. Not until Karlach launches at him and you draw your blade, willing to kill when it’s necessary but not craving an ounce of blood more.

The fight is long and brutal, but it’s familiar. You have your friends at your side, people you trust even more than yourself. It flies by in a blur, only ending when Karlach’s axe sinks into Gortash’s gut and he crumples to his knees, letting out a final rush of air before he goes still.

Like so many other events, this should feel triumphant, but it doesn’t. Like so many other things, this isn’t fair. Gortash is gone, yes, nothing more than a body on a floor, but there’s no celebration, no relief.

Karlach has gotten her revenge, but she will never get her life back. She will never regain what he took from her.

You have the Netherstones, yes. But gods - that doesn’t stop the sickening feeling deep inside.

You head home with nothing but grief and an aching body, your hand held tight in Astarion’s, and you finally allow yourself to fully mourn the life you’d lived - the things you’d done, and the people who no longer live because of you.

With Gortash finally gone, the air of the camp changes. You’re so close to your goal, but there’s an underlying tension that fills the air. It has you making your way to Astarion, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and nuzzling into his neck.

He holds you close, his thumb trailing over the nape of your neck, and the action slackens the tension out of your muscles.

“So,” he starts, “how are you feeling, now that your old lover is gone?”

You huff, shaking your head. The action brushes your nose with his skin, and you can smell him all over you. The warmth of brandy, the sharpness of rosemary. “I don’t remember any of it,” you say, words soft. “I… don’t really feel anything.”

You recall his numbness after Cazador. Dame Aylin’s emptiness after smiting down Larroakan. Karlach’s grief after killing Gortash. Even after your fight with Orin, there hadn’t really been relief. Just… a sense of loss.

He gently takes your face in his hands.

You’re scared, really. You’re so close to succeeding, so close to getting the tadpole out of your mind, and yet, you’re terrified out of your wits. What the hells are you supposed to do, now that failing holds the most weight?

“Do you really think we’ll win this?” you ask him. Your fear slips into your voice and breaks it, and you wince.

“Of course I do,” he says. “I don’t know about you, darling, but I have no intention of dying again.” He presses his lips to your forehead, the gentle touch soothing away your fear. “We’ll get through this. Trust me.”

And, despite the fear, the pain, the loss - despite every curve that life continually throws at you, every defeat you muster through, you know he’s right.

You’ll get through this; just like you always do.

#astarion x reader #astarion #astarion x you #astarion ancunin #astarion x dark urge #baldurs gate 3 x reader #mywriting

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orbitalmoonrat · 3 months

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hello I just discovered that you are the artist of my absolute most favorite song in the world, my love is sick (don't mind me as fanning out over your art ughhhh it is so gorgeous)

anyways.

what are the flowers/moths on the cover of the single? the one with the person sitting rotting with flowers growing out of them? I think one of the flowers is marigold, but I'm not certain about the rest

hopefully it's okay to ask this! feel free to disregard if it isn't

the cover of the single is actaully the most gorgeous cover I have ever seen and I'm. hhhhh I love it so much, fantastic work !! :)

Hello!!! This is such a sweet ask, I'm so glad you like the cover of the song!!! It was an absolute pleasure to work with Madds in illustrating it ;v;

You are right about the marigolds!

The flowers featured are marigolds and black dahlia flowers! The moths are Death's-head Hawkeye moths :)

Marigolds are supposed to represent despaired love while the Black Dahlia's represent death! Since the song is all about hanahaki disease (For those who don't know, it's the fictional disease where when you love someone and they don't reciprocate your feelings/don't know about your feelings, essentially one-sided love, flowers sprout in your lungs and eventually suffocate you) I thought those two flowers would represent that perfectly! That and the black and orange create a very pretty contrast.

Originally, we actually wanted white butterflies, but after we settled on the flowers, we found the perfect moths to compliment the flowers, seeing as how they share the same color palette. It was a match made in heaven <3

I hope you continue to support Madds and her music!!! Supporting her means you're also supporting me, especially considering I design all of her merch, too! ^v^ Thank you so much <333 (I showed her this ask as well, she was very flattered and happy to know you love her song so much!)

#nini talks #ask #toscavan #madds buckley

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cushfuddled · 2 days

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I wish I didn't hate Ed and Stede but here we are I guess

I didn't have time to put a section about this in my review (since it would add another ten minutes onto a fifty minute video hhhhh) but I just gotta take a second and vent about how much I dislike Stede and Ed in season two.

When I watched season two for the first time, I assumed I didn't ship Gentlebeard anymore because I'd...I dunno...gotten bored of the ship or whatever. But when I went back to rewatch season one, I was immediately sucked back into the Ed/Stede jet engine. I loved them through the finale, up until around the middle of season two...at which point I became totally disinterested again.

Even going back through season one clips for this review...the chemistry is soooo strong for me. The only time I got that feeling from season two was like, from the mermaid scene and the finger-stacking scene.

And I honestly think my disinterest stems from the fact that I can't stand Ed and Stede as characters anymore. They're dicks in season one, but ANNOYING dicks in season two, and I guess I just...don't ship characters who make me want to tear my hair out.

In season two, Ed behaves like a petulant five year old with a gun. It's so "say sorry to your friend right now!" "I don't wanna! :(" followed by a stint in the time out chair and a mumbled non-apology. For all of season two, Ed behaves like a spoiled brat, and I really can't stand it.

My friend pointed out that Ed is in a position where he needs to reparent himself. His emotional development likely stopped around the time he killed his dad (when he was still a kid). No one modeled healthy behavior and emotional regulation for Ed past the age of...maybe fifteen? So of course he's gonna behave like a kid. It's gonna be a long road for Ed to learn these regulating strategies as an adult, and I guess...hhhhhh.

None of Ed's trauma excuses Ed from torturing and traumatizing his crew. It feels shitty to find a deeply traumatized character's behavior "annoying," but...I mean. I say this as someone who's experienced suicide ideation myself: Ed isn't real, and I'm not Ed's friend, and so I don't really feel obligated to extend patience and understanding to a fictional construct when that construct spends 90% of his screen time behaving like a stuck up, self-obsessed, capricious, whiny, murderous asshole.

Add season-two-Stede to the mix and CHRIST...Stede—like Ed—was always a dick, but the way he encouraged Lucius to divulge his trauma only to react with cartoonish disgust, cower like a cornered animal, and then flee while begging Lucius to be quiet...

Then Stede decides to veto the crew's decision to ban Ed—their abuser—from the ship ("talk it through as a crew" my ass)...? Oh, and gotta love how Stede-"I've been the cause of death. It changes you"-Bonnet sets a guy on fucking fire and laughs, then kills a bunch of English soldiers with nary a backward glance. Okay. Would've loved some kind of exploration re: that major heel turn, but fine. And then Ed and Stede stand over Izzy's grave—the (mutilated) body of their dear friend and crewmate—and their combined eulogy amounts to "He was tense. Very tense." "Yeah, he was a fucking nightmare. What a guy." How endearing. Season two turned these two bastards (affectionate) into bastards (derogatory) for me and I'm still salty about it. God DAMMIT.

#our flag means death salt #ofmd salt

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mandalhoerian · 1 year

Text

DEATH ISLAND HAS CLAIRE IN IT TOO !!!!!???!!! Man jill had me freaking out but THIS....... officially we got:

redfield siblings together since CV which... after over 20 years?

VALENFIELD (platonic or not) like we dont know what happened with jill post re5.... and now she’s here, hair not blonde, barely even aged at all,,, i doubt we’ll get an answer about her absence in re7-8 and the hound squad but maybe some closure... maybe?

leon and jill together ??! First time interacting in canon and IT’S BEEN OVER 20 YEARS

and of course leon and claire... we have to find out what happened post Infinite Darkness, they just separated these two like that 😭 did they make up? You know this relates back to ID (ITS BEEN YEARS IN CANON BUT IM STILL HUNG UP) because Leon has his ID design back (chris’ Vendetta one was kept) and Claire also has her ID design,,, some crumbs please

JILL AND CLAIRE MEET FOR THE FIRST TIME ON SCREEN AS WELL AHHHHH PLEASE!!! AND ALSO REBECCA????? Best girls together im,,,, AHHHHH

Capcom im begging,,,, you have to deliver. We should have had this in RE6 you have to redeem the RC reunion. Im so excited but also afraid HHHHH

#shai.txt #resident evil #resident evil death island #death island

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lordcatwich · 4 months

Text

hhhhh I already typed out the context three times

just

Know that the actions portrayed here are justified

Lynn tortured this person and their partner for over a year

and then appeared to murder their partner

And then tried to wipe all of this person's memories (only worked for like a month)

content warning for torture and death under the cut

Kirix sat in the chair across from Lynn, looking at the floor, winding their tail back and forth. It was taking Lynn so long to just fucking wake up already. It didn't take them or Barlow nearly as long any time it had happened in the past- but then again, maybe they built up a resistance.

Aske, they should've considered that.

After a moment, Kirix sighed, stood, reeled their hand back, and slapped Lynn across her stupid little unconscious face as hard as they possibly could.

They took a step back.

Nothing.

Not even a wince.

Groaning, Kirix buried their face in their hands.

They only had a few hours to do this, and of course Lynn would ruin it. She made everything bad, even her own death.

Perfect. This was just *perfect.*

Pulling their face out of their fingers, Kirix sat back down in the chair.

They'd given Lynn only a small dose of knockout powder. Was she really this susceptible? Ridiculous. Fucking ridiculous.

Too late now, I guess. They just had to wait a little bit longer.

It's been months. An hour’s nothing, calm down.

…..

“Hrmmmmmmmmmmmmggggggggghhh…”

Lynn made a noise.

Kirix stood. “Lynn? Are you awake yet?” They slipped back into Kir mode, just for a bit. Almost. Almost, almost, almost. Finally time, FINALLY TIME.

Lynn's head rolled down to her chest. She shuddered, then opened her eyes. “hhhhwhat?” she half-asked, half-said quiet enough that it could be mistaken for the squeak of a mouse.

Kirix grinned, but stayed quiet. They didn't want to interfere. Let her have one more minute.

Kirix went behind Lynn's chair. The surprise would be even more fun.

Lynn’s hands twitched, but they couldn't move- obviously. They were tied behind her back. That's when her head popped up.

Kirix didn't move. Didn't make a noise. Just watched from behind as Lynn looked down at herself, realized she was tied down to a slightly reclined chair, and froze, confused and scared, probably in denial about… well, being tied to a chair.

Lynn stayed frozen for a few seconds before she slowly looked back up, staring directly at the door that Kirix had already blocked off with wooden planks and a second chair for good measure.

“Hello?” She called out, still drowsy. “Hello? Is anyone here? What's going on?”

Kirix stayed quiet, but started walking forward. Lynn quickly picked up on their footsteps. “HEY! I CAN HEAR YOU! SHOW YOURSELF!”

Kirix ignored her request and instead just responded with, “Do you know where you are, Lynn?”

“W-wha- Kir? Is that you?”

“Answer the question, Lynn. Do you know where you are?”

“No- but- Kir?!”

“.....Oh. Sorry, I should've known you wouldn't know. Uhhh, hold on-” Kir stopped, thinking about what to say as Lynn squirmed in the chair.

A few seconds later, they had an answer. “Remember the last two weeks? The last two before?”

“....I-”

“You kept me in here. Not even in a cell. You cut out the middleman and kept me in the actual chamber because you were scared to move me around, right? That seems right.”

Kirix paused to let their words sink in.

“And in the last week, no one would come at all. I didn't see anyone. My food just appeared, randomly. And I thought I was going insane. Insane. Do you know, Lynn? Do you know what it's like to feel your mind slip through the cracks?” they took a long, deep, shuddering breath, stopping just behind Lynn's chair to stop themself from crying. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop it, St-

Lynn piped up again. “W-w-what are you talking about, Kir?” She asked, stammering and apprehensive.

Kirix let their gaze go directly to the back of Lynn’s head. “If I were strong enough to throw you across this room right now I would.”

Lynn tensed up. Kirix could only assume that she blanched.

Kirix crossed their arms. “I don't know what you gave me to make me forget everything. But it wore off after a month. The nightmares were horrible. I still have them, actually.”

“.........”

“Ya know what else happened here?”

“.........”

“You killed me in this room.”

“.......”

“I get it if you don't wanna talk. I never wanted to. I never would've said the right thing anyways.”

“Y-you….”

“Mhm. I haven't forgotten anything. And I know you weren't the only one doing things, but you were in charge, so it feels like you're the best person to do this with.”

“WHAT?!”

“LYNN! I'M KILLING YOU! HOW HAVE YOU NOT REALIZED-” they slipped out of human language and into slightly incoherent draconic. They let themselves ramble for a minute, letting their tears streak down their face, letting their mind melt down. And eventually…..

“-Ariniat. I know that's supposed to describe me and my kind, but it describes you more. Ariniat. I wish you'd never been born.” Kirix stepped forward, moved to the front of Lynn, turned to face her. She was pale as a cloud, trembling.

“I-i-I’m sorry, WHAT?!”

“...Sorry, I guess. That was draconic. No one speaks it very often because the one who let us know how was a rainp-”

“NOOOOOO NONONO BACK UP- YOU JUST SAID YOU WERE GOING TO KILL ME?!”

“Oh. Yes. That will happen. Sorry, did I skim over that too much?”

“B-B-B-B-BUT YOU CAN'T! I'M ONLY TWENTY-S-”

Kirix snapped forward, grabbing the right arm of the chair and the back so that they towered over Lynn, or hoped they did. Lynn yelped, then Kirix spoke, letting their wings flare out as they went. “I. Don't. Care. Do you know who else was young when they died? Barlow. My partner. They were 18, Lynn, You had 8 more years than them. You should be grateful for what you had.”

Lynn shut her eyes. “IT ISN’T DEAD!”

“.....” Kirix pulled back. “What, now?”

“IT ESCAPED! IT ISN'T HERE! IT DIDN'T DIE!”

“........W-wha-....”

Kirix unclenched their hands, straightened up, unfocused their gaze from the shock.

Lynn kept saying things, but Kirix didn't listen. Their brain went blank, their breath got shaky.

Barlow was

Alive?

….

……..

…………

Time stopped. Lynn's voice remained a quiet drone.

…

If Barlow was really alive, where were they?

What do I do now?

….their ears were ringing.

“ᴷᶦʳˀ ᴷᴵᴿᵎ ᴴᴱʸᵎ ʸᴼᵁ'ᴿᴱ ˢᶜᴬᴿᴵᴺᴳ ᴹᴱ!”

…Something strange was happening.

Kirix felt like they were watching themself now. They felt themself walk behind Lynn, to the back of the chamber, where a knife, ready and waiting, sat on the shelf. Only when they grabbed it did they feel themself back in their body. They paused, knife in hand, looking into a corner where there was nothing, and stood there for a moment, grounding themselves in Lynn’s panic.

“...IR! KIR? HELLOOOO? CAN YOU SAY SOMETHING?”

Kirix didn't say anything. As soon as they felt ready, they approached Lynn’s chair, grabbed the back

And stabbed her in the arm, feeling the knife grind against her bone.

Lynn yelped, then screamed.

And screamed.

Kirix slid the knife out of Lynn's arm and slipped forward, back to where they'd been sitting before Lynn woke up. They jabbed Lynn in her opposite leg with their tail just as they sat down.

“How ya feelin?” They asked, turning around again to stand in front of their chair. They tucked the whole thing with Barlow being alive to a corner of their thoughts. They had to focus on killing Lynn, who wasn't even responding to Kirix's question. True, it wasn't a very obscure question, but this was a matter of politeness.

It took her a bit to form words. “I- I THOUGHT YOU WERE KILLING ME WHY DID YOU-?”

Kirix shrugged. “I never said it was going to be quick.”

Lynn whimpered. Kirix stepped forward. “I'm not giving you mercy. You never gave me mercy.”

Another step.

“And I'm not going to make this easy. You never, ever let it be easy.”

Another step.

“I just wish I had more time. And more expertise. You had all of that.”

Another step.

“But I guess it's too late now.”

Another step. “Bye, Lynn.”

Kirix drew back their knife and drove it into Lynn's other arm.

And so they began.

— — —

A while later, nearly as drenched in blood as Lynn, Kirix took a brief rest, setting the knife down on their chair, crouching slightly with their hands on their knees. They were violently sobbing. Why? That wasn't supposed to happen. The emotions got to them, they supposed. They stayed the way they were for a long time. Lynn was still alive- but oh, goodness, she was so close to death. If Kirix just left her alone to bleed out, she was definitely not coming back.

That would be interesting.

But Kirix still wanted to deliver the killing blow.

They stood and picked up their knife. “Alright, Lynn. Look at me.”

Lynn slowly looked up at Kirix. She was struggling to do anything.

Good.

Kirix stepped forward and stabbed Lynn.

Directly into the center of her neck.

They did it 4 more times for good measure.

It was on the 3rd time that Lynn finally died.

yeah uh. Yeah.

#writing #lore #i have no idea what i'm doing lmao #writeblr #blood tw

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yostresswritinggirl · 2 years

Note

Hey gotta do my part in giving Kasala content of his own cause seeing his tags empty hurts my soul 🥲

What if reader still has eleazar even after being reincarnated though just think about how protective Cyno would be

Mini headcanon: imagine you two having a wedding ceremony or something and greater lord rukkhadevata decided to come over to give reader and Kasala some desert resistant flowers as a congratulating gift

Then later in private reader used the flowers to braid with Kasala's hair (you can't convince me his hair isn't silky smooth)

And then in present day Cyno wants to repay the reader for it(if the reader has long hair). He ended up doing pretty badly and made a disaster of reader's hair but it's the thought that counts right?

Okay so idk how you'd feel about this but I have thoughts

So recently I have been seeing people speculating that Alhaitham is a reincarnated scarlet king and saw how you said you wanted more simps of him so I started blasting

So may I humbly change the au into a poly with Alhaitham included? Cause there's just so much angst potential with the dynamic the three would have

Honorable mentions to my partner for being the reason I could come up with these cause he really is the Cyno to my Alhaitham

- Vagabond Anon

(related to this post)

Ah! Fellow Kasala simp gracing us again with content! *kneels and bows down to floor*

NO NO DON'T CROSS THAT OUT OMAYGHAD THAT'S ACTUALLY HHHHH I LOVE THAT SO MUCH, I IMMEDIATELY THOUGHT OF A SCENARIO like like what what if they didn't tell Cyno or he wasn't informed about it at all?

I was thinking since Eremites are into arts and Cyno's a stalker/lh he was watching them either dance or play a song with their Eremites gang (you know, the enemy idles) when their Eleazar suddenly acted up and he was quick to escort then back to Aaru Village. Reader is still apprehensive about him at this point of the relationship but they're starting to open up after realizing they might die soon.

"This whole reincarnation bullshit... are we really... fated to be together?" Cyno didn't answer as he adjusts your arm around his shoulder. Didn't have to, he knows you know what he would have said.

"If so," a cough from you finally pulled his focused gaze away from the glimpse of Aaru Village in the distance to look. The somberness of your expression took him aback, paired together with the fatigue from your sickness. It hurts to look at. "Am I also fated to leave you every time?"

I hate you, I hate you *adding on to to-do list* but but the flower thing looks so cute! I'm sorry I got distracted by the angst ahahah - I like to think that it's the new version of Padisarahs that Rukkhadevata made as a gift! Like the first of its kind! I'm also kind of a whore for the analogy that Kasala and Reader are also kind of parallels of King Deshret and Goddess of Flowers.

And as thanks to his most loyal priest, he blessed them with a love never ending. OMAYGHAD IMAGINE THIS EXTENDS TO A MODERN AU SKSJSKSKS *BANGING ON TABLE*

I would love a sandwich like that too but hhhh I can't really imagine it knowing that he was down bad for the Goddess of Flowers even till death, unless *strokes chin* He thinks that the Goddess of Flowers reminds him of you hmm, I did try and think of that pairing before but it wasn't really sfw haha,,,

#vagabond anon #exile.goblet #kasala #cyno #kasala x reader #Cyno x reader #exile.circlet #don't tempt me #i am currently trying to figure out what to work on next #and you're being my sleep paralysis demon #hhhhngh the brainrot is real #exile.reader

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meowzfordayz · 1 year

Text

pastries

Uzui Tengen x Reader

Word Count: ~700

CW: dark humor, implied OC death, traumatic references

Emergency Request Fulfilled: HI MEOW, ITS ME AGAIN

My life’s falling apart just like always so here I am lmao

Hhhhh can I get uhhhhhh

Muichiro or Uzui x reader who deals with their trauma with jokes

“Something’s on your mind?” Tengen hums softly from behind you, large palm resting carefully on your shoulder.

“I mean, I’m alive, so yeah,” you snort, leaning backward into his touch, “And something’s on your mind?”

“Of course,” he smiles widely, pressing a light kiss to your hair, “I miss you already.”

“You miss me already? I haven’t left.”

“The village is far.”

“Is that your subtle way of calling me slow?”

“Perhaps,” his voice lowers, eyes closing, “You don’t have to go.”

Swallowing thickly, you gently shrug him off, swiveling around to poke his forehead, “Just because my idiot oniisan had an unfortunate run in with a demon mid errand doesn’t mean I’m destined to suffer his fate as well.”

“But-”

“And don’t bother mentioning my stupid oneesan. Why would you run toward someone screaming in an alleyway?”

“Didn’t you run after h-”

“I don’t count!” you huff, “She wasn’t screaming at that point. Clearly, the danger had passed,” scowling now, “What with being sated on dinner and dessert.”

“Why are you so-”

“Tengen-sama, what day is today?”

Head tilting, he wets his bottom lip, mouth quirked slightly. He can’t recall anybody having died on this day—although your prickly demeanor briefly has him reconsidering—and he knows it isn’t an anniversary of anything romantic (he has four dedicated partners to maim him should he dare forget remind him of such events, thank you very much).

“Today is buy a dozen get another dozen free at my favorite pastry shop,” you declare, “Are you really insisting I stay home?”

“Your life is more important to me than two dozen pastries,” he declares, hurriedly tacking on, “More important than any amount of pastries!”

“Well I’m glad someone cares about my life so much,” you quip, “But I, on the other hand, am content with valuing mochi, jellies, and cookies most.”

“Most?” he nearly pouts, filling the space between your bodies, fingertips dancing down the side of your kimono until they settle atop your hip, “What about me?”

“You’re fine. Even retired, you’re actually qualified to run toward someone screaming in an alleyway.”

“That isn’t what I meant,” he grumbles, “Haven’t I told you time and time again to prioritize your life over any and all missions?”

“Why would my life be in danger during a pastry run?”

“Your oniisan-”

“Was too impatient to wait for sunrise, and died in the chill before dawn. Do you see the sun Tengen-sama? Where is it? Smack in the middle of the sky!” resisting the urge to nuzzle your nose into his broadness, “But the longer you stall me, the more likely I’ll be returning in the dark,” eyes rolling, “Especially considering how s l o w l y I walk.”

“I’ll carry you there!”

“Absolutely not! This is my mission to undertake.”

“So dramatic,” he mutters.

“You’re one to tal-” your retort muffled as he not so gracefully cradles you into his chest.

“When you return, we can visit their graves,” pausing as you melt like warmed honey, sinking into his embrace, “I’ll give you extra money to buy offerings for them,” quietly, “What sort of pastries did they enjoy?”

Sniffling into his yukata, you cling tightly to his haori, words lodged in your throat, sharp as an unfulfilled wishbone. I don’t know because you never asked. I don’t know because those stupid, dumb, idiots abandoned you without permission, without attachment, without Goodbye. I don’t know because sometimes their faces blur in your dreams, let alone memories of whether they preferred bean cakes or cheesecakes.

“I’m happy to carry you,” he repeats tentatively, “You aren’t slow, but I’m certainly fast.”

“Tengen-sama,” you hiccup, heat caressing your cheeks, “If you carry me, then how will I ever develop thighs and calves to rival yours?”

“You don’t need to develop thighs or calves worthy of rivaling mine. You only need to return safely.”

“What an unsupportive response!”

“You’re ridiculous!” he exclaims.

“Are you going to give me extra money, or not?”

“Are you going to release your grip on my haori?”

“You said you were happy to carry me,” you whine.

“To the village! Not to my money pouch!”

“Hmpf.”

#tengen uzui #uzui tengen #tengen x reader #uzui x reader #sound hashira #drabble #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer

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kusagrasskusa · 1 year

Text

Coming back on tumblr for a seccc.. A Little Piece of Heaven really can apply to Oro or Kabuto fr

Imagine Orochimaru x Reader where the two have been friends since childhood, and dated as they grew older. After Orochimaru finally has Sasuke in his hands, he decides to test out his luck even further by breaking the question- “Y/N, you have been by my side for the longest time. I truly love you unlike anything else, and I believe now is the perfect time to ask; will you marry me?”

“I-“ you stammered and giggled, “I don’t know if I can yet, dear. But that was very sweet.” Orochimaru doesn’t handle the question very well. You can see it in his eyes how his heart just broke- a pain he couldn’t even imagine the feeling of before this moment. “Oro..?”

He stood up and looked deep into your eyes, and the true demon in him would become a reality. A loud scream came from you as all too suddenly, he long kunai was shoved deep into your stomach. You hunched over, resting your head on your boyfriend’s chest weakly as he shoved the kunai deeper in. He pulled it back, then shoved it in you once more- the brutal attack ending in you hitting the ground lifelessly.

You’d find yourself as a rotting corpse in the quarters of your love, who would spend his dinners with you lifelessly sitting in the chair opposite of him. Why, he truly cherished you as much as he always did, if not more. After all, a corpse can’t deny him.

However, it wouldn’t last long for one day, he’d find his love gone when he entered his quarters. “Kabuto!” He screamed at the top of his lungs, rage filling his entire body faster then a person can blink. Within a second of no reply, he began to yell again, but was cut off by the sound of a stumble from behind him. As he turned his head, his eyes widened. “Y/N.”

The body of his love had turned purplish-red, with blue lips and cloudy, dialated eyes and skin that was eaten and broken down by the bacteria that no longer has white blood cells to stop it. Yet, like a zombie, this corpse was standing and staring deeply into the soul of Orochimaru. His mind did something it never has before- he felt like he was looking into the eyes of the devil itself. An intense hatred he has never felt before- much more than the hatred he has ever felt collectively. It was like he was being covered in leeches that were sucking him alive. He had to run. He had to escape her.

And so he did. He ran faster than he ever had before, using jitsus to get him as far away as fast as possible. The faster he ran and the further away he went, the more danger he felt. “HhhHH-!” A deep breath was knocked out of him as he was stopped suddenly. He head swung forward powerfully, unable to hardly handle the amount of inertia from the suddenly stopped. But, what was worse was the pain his chest felt. His head slowly and weakly lifted up his black hair almost sheltering him from the view in front of him. There you were- the corpse of his dear love. Your hand held his heart tightly as it poked out of Orochimaru’s back, the split arteries and veins spewing all the blood his heart had to offer. Orochimaru was pressed against your, your entire arm poking through his back.

“I’m so sorry,” was all he could faintly mumble before his eyes suddenly closed. Time had passed with Orochimaru’s body lifeless and soaked in aging blood that was like a bed for his corpse. He laid in it for weeks and weaks, his body breaking down and turning colors through the putrefaction. Even the Hidden Leaf learned of his death- word had spread about his death rather quickly. Naruto himself came to go see once day, awed by the sight. Yet, no matter who showed up and saw him, they just couldn’t bring themselves to get close. It was like an invisible restraint holding them back. Yet still, it was clear he was heartless through his wounds.

However, that was just on the surface. Everyone knew he would end up in hell but he never expected it to be so soon- he was immediately pushed onto his knees before feeling like his ribs were shattered into a million pieces. Except, it actually happened- hell is a place that knows no boundaries, including shattered his ribs to dust. He tried to scream, but there was almost no air to breath. Barely a gasp escaped his lips before a sudden sharp smell of burning suffer filled his senses. He felt like throwing up, but he couldn’t. He felt like his organs were being shredded into tiny pieces like shredding the meat of a chicken. How can a person survive through this? Well, because hell knows no boundaries. And the amount of intense hatred he felt for all things pleasant sickened even him, who was considered to be one of the evilest creatures. Yet, the truly strongest hatred he could sense was of one he knew more than anything. He realized now how much he had taken for granted. How he was in a little piece of heaven, while he put his dear girlfriend through burning in hell, no peace forever.

“I will suffer for so long,” he mumbled.

“Not long enough,” you replied, eyeing him as he stood beneath you. Your body shifted and contorted and was constantly sliced open and healed, you bones would suddenly be broken and poking out of your arm as a darkened creature would run past you. You’d try to moan in pain, but you were all too used to the pain.

“To make it up to you,” he groaned out with the almost no air he could.

“I pray to God that you do.”

“I’ll do whatever… you want me to do.” A moment passed as a sudden force crushed down on Orochimaru’s spine, feeling it snap into smaller and smaller bits. He felt tears slip through his eyes but he continued. “And if it’s not enough.”

“It’s not enough,” you replied in haste.

“I’ll try again.”

“And again.”

“Over and over again.”

A heavenly jutsu bestowed upon them. Who did it doesn’t matter, for the match made in hell were happy to be back. Very quickly, they decided to marry. The poor couple in the middle of their wedding never could have expected to find themselves entirely torn to pieces, sitting in their own blood, as Orochimaru and his love decided to take over. “Do you take this creature of death for the rest of your unnatural life?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then I now pronounce you husband and…”

It was soon learned of these little crimes and how cold they were, and to each other. It wasn’t her time, but bye bye. And a word to the wise, then the fire dies, you think it’s over but your murder was just what began it. But, he had your heart- at least for the most part. And everybody’s gotta die sometime- and when you fell apart, he tried to make a new start. Your angry soul came back from the grave to repossess him with which he misbehaved. It’s funny now looking back at it. However, it may not be so funny if you’re one of the people who died at the end of their knife since now, they’re undead, and there are no boundaries.

#naruto #orochimaru #orochimaru x reader #orochimaru x you #orochimaru x y/n #a little piece of heaven #this is kinda fucked up #song references #orochimaru is evillll

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aspd-culture · 1 year

Note

Do you have books/movies recommendation that represents aspd well fiction or nonfiction?

Hhhhh I was waiting for this question to come one day. The answer is lowkey v v disappointing.

Because... no, not really. I've got like three, two of which do what I consider a fairly good job, and one that rides the fence of being a lil "oh great, the ASPD character likes blood and guts and death".

Sorry this is so long-winded tldr Ender's Game (book only), House, MD if you can handle some not ok 2000's comedy, and Wednesday if you never get into the fandom.

In order of, in my opinion, best to least best (they're all still p good):

I tried to make these spoiler free but it's hard while explaining good vs bad rep. I would recommend going into Ender's Game blind without reading what I wrote about it and coming back to this post after. I would read the warning attached to the other two.

Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card (The book not the movie, oh my gosh, not the movie) - Peak ASPD right here. When I was a kid with ASPD, this is the only book I ever related to and I randomly picked it bc it was the third name on the mandatory summer reading list and 3 is my OCD's favorite number. It rarely lets me down, and in this case, brought me a seriously well-done look at ASPD done, possibly entirely without meaning to. Orson Scott Card, as far as I'm aware, set out to write a book about trauma and the way that different types of trauma shapes the mind in early childhood, and preschool aged children engaging in active military training is... woof. It's a lot when something that you relate to so much is a depiction of a war-era dystopia. There are definitely parts that still push the stigma, and a lot of what makes Ender "good" is the sympathy and compassion and "purity" he shows, so be ready for that. That said, this also shows how a kid can still fit the definition of a loving, innocent child even while actively engaging in violence. It's a bit preachy with its message, but it is a damn good book. I will openly admit I have never gotten around to reading the sequels purely bc they were not in my school libraries. I wonder if Libby has them... *takes mental note*. There are also questions about if Ender's siblings possibly have cluster b disorders themselves. I have seen theories that both Peter and Valentine have NPD, and a more controversial theory that Valentine has NPD while Peter has BPD and the book just happens to focus on demonizing him (as a character to make a point about him and Valentine, not because of the disorder) so it doesn't emphasize the non-splitting behavior. Just, do yourself a favor and don't read into psych articles about Ender's Game. They make a big deal out of Ender being a good character because he is "saved" by his empathy and just... idk the book is written from his POV and I don't see much empathy there. I see compassion. I see cognitive empathy. I do not see affective empathy besides with a couple Exceptions.

House, MD - the profile pic is for a reason. More than House, MD is a show about doctors or medicine, it is a show about House's struggle with his mental health. We watch him slowly get through the process of recognizing, adapting to, and working on his symptoms throughout the show. It honestly helped me before I even realized I had ASPD to improve my relationships with people by learning from his mistakes.

House is (minor spoiler) canonically diagnosed with "Antisocial traits" around season 6 I believe, but he experiences them the entire time. He is written as a character who I believe was supposed to have ASPD. If not, he is one of the most accurate accidents turned canon I have ever seen. That said, this show does not shy away from the negative aspects of ASPD. Many people say horrible things about House throughout the series, many of them he does not bother to argue with or deny. It is... really emotional for me sometimes to see how they speak to and about him and how he handles that. It's really good, but does have one very triggering episode about a "true sociopath" and House's struggles with relating to her also around Season 5 or 6. It's one I wouldn't skip if you're watching this for ASPD reasons, but House *does* try and separate himself from a "true sociopath" so be ready for some stigma. Also please note that this show is from around 2004. Lots of flip phones, ha ha ha, but also lots of excess stigma on things, somewhat homophobic and transphobic jokes, etc. Although, it is worth noting that it is a symptom of House's ASPD to make these jokes - he expects that they know he is not serious because of his tone and doesn't, due to lack of empathy, understand that these jokes are hurtful even when people know you don't believe what you're joking about to be true. He builds his team around making sure they can handle that part of him, which is a pretty decent thing to do, in my opinion, even though the right thing to do would be to change the behavior. But yeah, shitty early 2000's humor incoming with this show. I still 100% feel it is worth the watch, but I am white and thus have the privilege of feeling comfortable while watching it. Black people especially may be really (understandably) unable to feel comfortable watching this because the person that House worries is most similar to him and thus most threatening to his position is Foreman, who is a Black man, and thus many of House's "it's ok because he knows I don't believe it" jokes are targetting Foreman and many times they are racist jokes. He in no way solely targets Foreman, but that is there and it is extremely frequent. When you meet people named Taub and Thirteen, Jewish and fellow LGBT people will join the club in being potentially seriously uncomfortable with these jokes. I could handle watching it, ymmv.

The third and somewhat problematic lil sister, Wednesday (2022) - Hear me out, it is so good, imo, but I cannot interact with the fandom on this one and it loses serious points because of that. The reason that I can't? The entire fandom has decided that Wednesday Addams, a long-time rare ASPD coded girl, is autistic and "through the lens of Tim Burton" vs acknowledging that she is ASPD coded. Everything that can be an autistic trait, many have cherry-picked as proof she is autistic, and they openly choose to ignore a major step in diagnosis, making sure that the symptoms are not better described elsewhere. I will concede she may be autistic (although tbh I don't think so bc of her serious lack of stimming, - and no the SINGLE DANCE SCENE AT A SCHOOL DANCE doesn't count - lack of meltdowns, and affinity for sitting perfectly still don't read autistic imo), but she has ASPD. A literal therapist talks to her about "the source of (her) antisocial traits" and because she is a child, that is the closest thing to a diagnosis of ASPD she can be given. The girl is loudly ASPD coded just like the character Wednesday Addams always has been.

Further, there is a point to be made about the ASPD coded character being given her own show for it to turn out to be a m*rder mystery as well as her obsession with everything dark, broody, bloody, and macabre. Admittedly, in The Addams Family, that's everyone in her family not just the ASPD coded one but in Wednesday, she is the only character who likes those things so it's a bit ick in that regard. Still, I relate a lot to her and always have and people used to try n bully me in school by calling me Wednesday but my mom showed me it and said I reminded her of Wednesday as a compliment when I was little and I always took it as one after that even when I knew they meant it in a mean way.

Unfortunately, ASPD, unlike many disorders, is not underrepresented in media. It is overrepresented in the worst ways possible. Every other book or movie I can find is full of stereotypes, mean-spirited commentary, and m*rder. There might be something to be said about a character from It's Always Sunny, but that show is a major trigger for me so I haven't been able to watch it to tell, and Lisa from Girl, Interrupted (book or movie) is just... painfully bad but well-loved rep. Like, I love her, but holy crap girlfriend, how did you manage to add stigma in a book and movie about destigmatizing mental health?

The fact that even counting bad but well-loved representation I can still count all of it on one hand sucks, and if anyone has more I am begging you to share in replies.

#book rec request #book rec asks #book reccs #booklr #tv shows #tc show rec #tw show reccs #aspd-culture-is #actually antisocial #actually aspd #antisocial personality disorder #aspd #aspd awareness #aspd culture #aspd traits #aspd culture is #anons welcome

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clay-cuttlefish · 8 months

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We're getting back into the good shit now. Vic's back in action, Renee is written by Greg Rucka for the first time, Helena and Vic meet, Blue Beetle is here...

Azrael Plus The Question

Vic's been playing poker. Lots of opportunities to wander around and get into trouble while keeping him retired from heroing and from journalism, it works for him.

Oops All Daddy Issues.

I like how low key this is, despite everything. Vic and Jean-Paul are weird dudes with a lot of problems and that's on full display.

Green Lantern #81

Another cameo that's only notable because I have no clue why Vic would be here. He has literally never met Hal Jordan, how did he get an invite. He's even standing off to the back instead of sitting with everyone else.

The Question Returns

The river emissary is conceptually a lot better than any of the other supernatural takes on the Question. The idea that Vic's death in the river would make his conscience literally haunt him is interesting, and it being questionably supernatural is more to my taste. Making the river a magical harmonica-playing old black man was not a great choice though.

Vic describing Tot as "an ex-father figure" makes me want to implode.

"these auditory hallucinations are getting on my nerves" BIG mood.

Vic is a mess. He can't go home, he can't stay away, he's shifted from Vic Sage the hard-hitting journalist to Vic Sage the laid-back poker player but he hasn't been able to change the Question. This is why he takes up so much space in my brain.

Even after he left he still held on to his love for Myra and Hub City, and this is where he can't do it anymore. He will never see her again. Godddddddd.

Steel #38

I hadn't read this one before, and I'm glad I'm reading it now, because it's great. I gotta get into Steel eventually.

Vic declares himself teammates with John and then immediately splits up and gets his shit wrecked. Maybe let the guy with power armor protect you next time.

This wandering gambler era is fun, I wish it had lasted a little longer. There are so many interesting places Vic could pop up with poker incidents as an excuse, it's the perfect way to keep him around without him having anything specific going on.

A World for Burning (Tec #714-715)

Calling her a supporting character is maybe a stretch but she gets to talk to Martian Manhunter so I'm counting it.

A fun little mystery story.

Cataclysm

Vic interlude is over, time for events.

I like Cataclysm quite a bit. It's heavy on the cop shit and some of the issues are just not good, but I think the earthquake makes for a better citywide event than any of the "oh no it's the Joker" ones, and everyone involved really gets to shine.

Once again I am forced to admit I like when Cluemaster shows up. Steph saving her dad from Helena despite everything is a strong moment.

Random Encounters (Batman Chronicles #14)

OH NO. Ohhhh no. Strap in folks it's time for her to become a main character.

Renee talks to her brother about his guilt over killing when he was in the Navy, and she uses Two-Face's coin to make her point about randomness and how right and wrong aren't simple, which. Hhhhh.

Apparently she shot a guy who was trying to kill Two-Face, and got the coin in return.

Sorry but Renee flipping the coin and making decisions based on the outcome fucking annihilates me and I cannot BELIEVE I hadn't read this before now.

This isn't even a comic it's a short story. Eight pages of Rucka setting up the dominoes.

An Answer in the Rubble (Batman Chronicles #15)

VIC AND HELENA BABYYYY

Self-recognition through the other (annoying)

His anime hair???

I love them so much.

Road to No Man's Land

Sorry but the Bruce Wayne political drama is ridiculous even by my standards. Gotham would be the second-largest city in the US today, or one of the top 5 if the "7 million" is the city and surrounding area, you cannot tell me it would get totally cut off. Screwed by inadequate relief? Sure. Wiped off the map? Lol no.

Okay fine it's the devil. The devil did it. Comic books.

L.A.W.

We've been in Gotham long enough, time to go do Some Bullshit!

This is in continuity, but it ignores all of Vic's canon post-Charlton - he's a newscaster working with Nora from the Ditko run, Hub City is Ted's home city but not his, he's characterized pretty much how he was in Charlton and those few Blue Beetle crossovers post-Crisis... the other heroes seem a little more up-to-date but they're all still kind of janky.

Wow this does not do a good job making me care about any of these characters.

The plot is mostly racist and/or nonsense and most of it bounced right off my brain despite repeated readings.

Honestly I'm here for Ted more than Vic. He's going through it.

I do like the framing device of Vic writing his report in the final issue. The real treasure was the friends we made along the way.

#clayposts #clayreads #the question #vic sage #renee montoya

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zluty-spendlik · 29 days

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So I started listening to tma like two weeks ago, and thought Id share some of my thoughts with you- first i texted them to my friend but then I started writing them over here

MAJOR TMA SPOILERS FOR S1 AND S2!!!

More of season 2:

Honestly if i were Barnabas i would also do anything for my hot witch gf

I love Gertrude but her voice makes me want to sleep

I CANNOT STRESS ENOUGH HOW MUCH THIS ISNT SASHA

Sasha would never say contientious

Idk why its funny to me that Michael couldve absolutely done some horror shit to Jon but he just stabs him

Also I feel so so bad for the woman that is now stuck in the weird corridors like imagine the terror and the hopelessness i hope her death cane quickly tbh

Also the vampires are back didnt expect that

I like Daisy

Ushanka is me in ict class honestly I hate ict class so much its super boring

Also the name ushanka is so freaking funny hes basically named "Funky hat" WHY

Yk I feel like someone needs to murder Salesa, hes a dangerous individual

The supplementals are the wildest shit EVER WDYM YOURE IN THE TUNNNELS GIRL

WHY IS THERE SO MANY THREADS THAT NEED UNRAVELING

Melanie is back lol

WOAH WAIT WHAT

WHAT

ITS REMARKABLY EASY TO BUY AN AXE IN CENTRAL LONDON??? WTF JON

JON DID YOU JUST FUCKING BREAK THE TABLE YOU IDIOT NOOO

HOLY SHIT HOOOLY SHIT STUFFS GOING DOWN

ARE TIM AND MARTIN IN THE CORRIDORS HOLY SHIT NO

Wait how did they make it out??

STAREMENT OF JURGEN LEITNER OHMYGOD

"We dont have time for you to have a breakdown archivist" yes we do give him a break

ELIAS WHAT ARE YOU--- OH

Soooo i guess leitner is dead?? Woah Elias truly doesnt care about being arrested huh

WAIT IS SASHA ACTUALLY DEAD?? NOOOO NONONO WAIT

I THOUGHT SHES JUST LOCKED UP SOMEWHERE SASHA NOOO

Okay that freaking scarred me ill miss sasha so much nooooo

I. I need a moment. (Sobbing)

Hhhhh okay ill just... god

I started s3 yesterday, I might follow up with my impressions

#tma #tma podcast #tma s1 #tma s1 spoilers #tma s2 #tma s2 spoilers

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skyland2703 · 11 months

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What Javelia fics do you recommend? A variety of wholesome and naughty 😉

Now this is a topic I have ✨expertise✨ in. But sure as heck I’m gonna include ANGST, FLOOF, SMUT AND a shit ton of hurt/comfort!!

Do I start this list with my own fic? Heck yes because this one’s literally an epic; angst filled, fluffy, and whatnot~

One of the best series I’ve seen with them, is a “all the hints Dino Fury dropped about Javelia” sort of thing,

And my personal favorite from this series is Fever Dreamers but I’d 100% recommend checking out the entire series.

Another one that absolutely owns my heart is this

Do I like sickfics? Yes. And here’s some of the best best BEST:

Somewhat twin to this, though much darker, by the same author, we have the 'High Ground' situation, just as heartwrenching </3333 (the hurt/comfort is HUGE here!!!)

Another couple of twin fics that do not pop up in the Javi/Amelia Tag because they’re in the Javi & Amelia tag, but I think fit the bill here are these: I ADORE these two fics, the littlest details just tug at the heart strings 💖

This one’s a canon fix it AND I LOVE IT TO DEATH AAAAAIIIIIII

Wattpad is Notorious for having bad FanFiction, but there’s a good collection of Javelia on there, and this would be my #1 pick if you had to go on there. Still incomplete, but aiiiiiiiiii Q_Q

They have SO MUCH hurt/comfort fics it’s making me go :3 here’s another one that’s set in cosmic + SOULMATE AU

And tumblr won't let me add proper links anymore, so here we have these PURE FLOOF fics, fluff fluffy floofy floof:

Night Go Slow enjoying the breeze Blanket Nights The Squishmallows (Plushie fic) Black Ink//Pink Sheets (Love Letters) Shut Down the City Lights What Am I, If Not Yours? (Wedding Fic) JavElia's One Shots (Oneshots collection :3 FLOOFIEST SHEET)

And some more hurt/comfort ANGST

A Toxic Relationship Is Never A Good Relationship Dwelling In My Past Truth Behind the Lies Afterlife draggle tailed guttersnipes Can't Promise Not to Cry I Need You to Stay Silent Broken Hearts And what do you make of THAT

And smut, lastly, smut, smut, smut

a rolling stone gathers no moss there's gold in the water see if we can hold on a little longer And this series with hhhhh 8-9 more smut fics???? Aaaiiiii pick yours~

Final observation: I am not capable of giving an unbiased opinion—they have. way. wayyyy too much Hurt/Comfort fics Q_Q I LOVE MY BABIES I LOVE HOW MUCH EVERYONE LOVES BREAKING THEM DOWN SO THEY CAN PICK EACH OTHER UUUPPPPPPP—

#Javi Garcia #Amelia Jones #Javi x Amelia #fanfic recommendations #I had SO MANY MORE in my head but hhhh #picking our favorites from the favorites ehhhh #Power Rangers #Power Rangers dino fury #dino fury #I’m sorry if i fucked up exactly HOW to recommend fics #asdfghgfdsa #authors please tell me if you want me to tag you guys I LOVE YOUR WORKKKK

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mozart-the-meerkitten · 1 year

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Here’s part two of my post about Peet’s introduction in The Wingfeather Saga show episode 2 “The Mysterious Map”! (no spoilers unless you haven’t seen the episode)

So Peet and Janner leave Glipwood Forest and Peet grandly- but without words- presents the ball back to the assembled children outside.

also I have emotions about Leeli saying “Hi Mr. the Sockman!” and waving to him help

You could write a whole other essay probably about the kids varied responses in this scene. Most of them look bored or annoyed to see Peet, and interestingly enough, none of them are afraid. You’d think that a crazy guy who runs around fighting street signs (true story) and talking to himself in gibberish would make a group of lone kids a little nervous, but he doesn’t. Which, to me says that he’s presented such a harmless persona around town that the kids see him and are just like, “oh it’s that weird guy again.” (which is pretty much Janner, Tink and Leeli’s reaction when we’re introduced to Peet in the book).

Also I’d just like to take a moment and point out Sara’s face: she looks like such a little leader and so stern and almost fierce and it’d be adorable and funny on another kid’s face but Sara, hhhhh oh Sara and what that girl goes through, what she becomes, and getting to see the tiniest glimpse of that here is just *chef’s kiss* (all I can think of is the scene where she meets Artham in book 3)

ANYWAY so here’s the second time Peet bows

It’s interesting that he’s not smiling here. You’d think that, with the image he normally presents of just being a goofy crazy guy he’d be grinning or something. But he’s not. He just looks sad and tired. And this is after we saw him smile at Janner and even laugh a little after protecting him. (And in the first episode he also smiles at Janner) It makes me wonder if he smiled a little at Leeli when he came out of the forest and she said hi to him before looking sad again (because he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay with the kids long).

Because while Peet is always happy to see the Igiby kids (and hopefully they continue to show this) he’s unbearably sad when he has to leave them.

(also oh my goodness put him out in the light and he does not look well at all someone please help him-)

And then Podo shows up. And he gives this look to Peet:

Just a casual death glare thrown across a field, but anyway, look at the effect it has on Peet:

He goes from this, where he looks strikingly noble, head up, eyes lifted, eyebrows raised. He doesn’t look happy, exactly, but he looks almost… hopeful.

And then after Podo glares at him he shrinks back and looks like this:

He has visibly drawn in on himself- tucked his chin/head down, eyes downcast, shoulders hunched, eyebrows drawn together. He looks like a chastised child, like Podo just yelled at him instead of looked at him.

Obviously these scenes are telling us that Peet and Podo have a history together, and that whatever that history is Podo hates Peet and doesn’t want him anywhere near his family (Peet notably keeps a distance from the kids after this moment, he hangs back and only watches them longingly, with a deep sadness in his eyes). It’s also showing us that Podo has some sort of authority over Peet, an ability to cow him into submission. Because Peet isn’t a coward, we just saw that in the forest when he leapt between Janner and danger! And we know Peet can be fierce, because we saw how he looked when he did that. And yet Podo has made him look like a beaten puppy with just one glare.

Peet looks like he expects retribution for what he did (and he’s done… nothing?) and he’s right to, as people who have read the books know. And listen, Podo is a great character and I love him, but how he treated Peet is objectively awful and it makes me very angry.

Anyway, the kids have their farewell conversations (and Peet noticeably doesn’t fade from the background of these, you can see him hanging back and looking sad when Sara and Janner are discussing zibzy points) but Janner doesn’t forget whatever just happened. He looks back twice and finds Peet watching him from the trees with the most dejected heartbreaking expression:

And here’s my final note about the lighting: Peet is at the edge of the forest which is in deep shadow, but him and the tree he’s by are in the light. There’s still some faint glimmer of hope in him for a second, and he’s still solidly being framed as good and noble.

But then-

As Janner watches, he goes back into the dark.

Alright Mozie, you’re probably saying, explain the light and dark thing you’ve been going on about.

Gladly.

The darkness here represents a number of things. It’s showing us that Peet is good, yes, and it’s telling us something else too. Peet is lost. When he is with the Igiby children he is in the light, he can think, he can even be happy. When he doesn’t have them he is in the darkness, trapped in his own mind, a prisoner to his thoughts, trauma, shame and pain. He needs them to break out of that darkness. And they need him. Oh do they need him.

It’s showing us that the Igiby kids are his light, and without them he is trapped in darkness.

TLDR; The Wingfeather Saga show is showing us that Peet is a complex character in approximately two minutes by showcasing his kindness, protectiveness, mental instability, deep sadness, loneliness, the fact that Podo hates him, and his connection to the Igiby children.

Can’t wait to see my boy again and hopefully write more long posts about him! *hugs Peet*

#the wingfeather saga #the wfs #the wingfeather saga tv show #the mysterious map #peet the sockman #janner igiby #podo helmer #sara cobbler #my boy is so good I love him #don't read the rest of my tags if you don't want spoilers #artham wingfeather #janner wingfeather

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