#you know those people who have tens of thousands of kills on on like one gun but with a bunch of weapons?

[luna-light-eclipse]

Young Wolf with a throne world and finding out about it when they experience a permanent death but they crawl out a barren sea of blood and corpses of everyone they’ve ever killed.

#luna’s brainbox #destiny #destiny 2 #just thinking of a Wolf who’s been on their last straw #and they wake up to this #they wake up drowning in their kills #pulling themselves up by the cold stiff bodies burying them #because they are a guardian #a dead thing #all they will ever do is kill #you know those people who have tens of thousands of kills on on like one gun but with a bunch of weapons? #imagine how many bodies that would be if you piled it up #I’ve managed to get a thousand or more kills in one day multiple times #imagine doing that #for a decade #a Wolf who only sees themself as a weapon and those they’ve been aimed towards #I’d love to do this with Aster but it wouldn’t really fit #guess it’s up for grabs in the box now

[heritageposts]

[...] During the early stages of the war, the army gave sweeping approval for officers to adopt Lavender’s kill lists, with no requirement to thoroughly check why the machine made those choices or to examine the raw intelligence data on which they were based. One source stated that human personnel often served only as a “rubber stamp” for the machine’s decisions, adding that, normally, they would personally devote only about “20 seconds” to each target before authorizing a bombing — just to make sure the Lavender-marked target is male. This was despite knowing that the system makes what are regarded as “errors” in approximately 10 percent of cases, and is known to occasionally mark individuals who have merely a loose connection to militant groups, or no connection at all. Moreover, the Israeli army systematically attacked the targeted individuals while they were in their homes — usually at night while their whole families were present — rather than during the course of military activity. According to the sources, this was because, from what they regarded as an intelligence standpoint, it was easier to locate the individuals in their private houses. Additional automated systems, including one called “Where’s Daddy?” also revealed here for the first time, were used specifically to track the targeted individuals and carry out bombings when they had entered their family’s residences.

In case you didn't catch that: the IOF made an automated system that intentionally marks entire families as targets for bombings, and then they called it "Where's Daddy."

Like what is there even to say anymore? It's so depraved you almost think you have to be misreading it...

“We were not interested in killing [Hamas] operatives only when they were in a military building or engaged in a military activity,” A., an intelligence officer, told +972 and Local Call. “On the contrary, the IDF bombed them in homes without hesitation, as a first option. It’s much easier to bomb a family’s home. The system is built to look for them in these situations.” The Lavender machine joins another AI system, “The Gospel,” about which information was revealed in a previous investigation by +972 and Local Call in November 2023, as well as in the Israeli military’s own publications. A fundamental difference between the two systems is in the definition of the target: whereas The Gospel marks buildings and structures that the army claims militants operate from, Lavender marks people — and puts them on a kill list.  In addition, according to the sources, when it came to targeting alleged junior militants marked by Lavender, the army preferred to only use unguided missiles, commonly known as “dumb” bombs (in contrast to “smart” precision bombs), which can destroy entire buildings on top of their occupants and cause significant casualties. “You don’t want to waste expensive bombs on unimportant people — it’s very expensive for the country and there’s a shortage [of those bombs],” said C., one of the intelligence officers. Another source said that they had personally authorized the bombing of “hundreds” of private homes of alleged junior operatives marked by Lavender, with many of these attacks killing civilians and entire families as “collateral damage.” In an unprecedented move, according to two of the sources, the army also decided during the first weeks of the war that, for every junior Hamas operative that Lavender marked, it was permissible to kill up to 15 or 20 civilians; in the past, the military did not authorize any “collateral damage” during assassinations of low-ranking militants. The sources added that, in the event that the target was a senior Hamas official with the rank of battalion or brigade commander, the army on several occasions authorized the killing of more than 100 civilians in the assassination of a single commander.

. . . continues on +972 Magazine (3 Apr 2024)

#free palestine #palestine #gaza #israel #ai warfare #this is only an excerpt i hope you'll at least skim through the rest of the piece #there's an entire section on the 'where's daddy' system #(seriously just typing the name out feels revolting)

[sayruq]

A new investigation by +972 Magazine and Local Call reveals that the Israeli army has developed an artificial intelligence-based program known as “Lavender,” unveiled here for the first time. According to six Israeli intelligence officers, who have all served in the army during the current war on the Gaza Strip and had first-hand involvement with the use of AI to generate targets for assassination, Lavender has played a central role in the unprecedented bombing of Palestinians, especially during the early stages of the war. In fact, according to the sources, its influence on the military’s operations was such that they essentially treated the outputs of the AI machine “as if it were a human decision.”

During the early stages of the war, the army gave sweeping approval for officers to adopt Lavender’s kill lists, with no requirement to thoroughly check why the machine made those choices or to examine the raw intelligence data on which they were based. One source stated that human personnel often served only as a “rubber stamp” for the machine’s decisions, adding that, normally, they would personally devote only about “20 seconds” to each target before authorizing a bombing — just to make sure the Lavender-marked target is male. This was despite knowing that the system makes what are regarded as “errors” in approximately 10 percent of cases, and is known to occasionally mark individuals who have merely a loose connection to militant groups, or no connection at all. Moreover, the Israeli army systematically attacked the targeted individuals while they were in their homes — usually at night while their whole families were present — rather than during the course of military activity. According to the sources, this was because, from what they regarded as an intelligence standpoint, it was easier to locate the individuals in their private houses. Additional automated systems, including one called “Where’s Daddy?” also revealed here for the first time, were used specifically to track the targeted individuals and carry out bombings when they had entered their family’s residences.

The Lavender machine joins another AI system, “The Gospel,” about which information was revealed in a previous investigation by +972 and Local Call in November 2023, as well as in the Israeli military’s own publications. A fundamental difference between the two systems is in the definition of the target: whereas The Gospel marks buildings and structures that the army claims militants operate from, Lavender marks people — and puts them on a kill list. In addition, according to the sources, when it came to targeting alleged junior militants marked by Lavender, the army preferred to only use unguided missiles, commonly known as “dumb” bombs (in contrast to “smart” precision bombs), which can destroy entire buildings on top of their occupants and cause significant casualties. “You don’t want to waste expensive bombs on unimportant people — it’s very expensive for the country and there’s a shortage [of those bombs],” said C., one of the intelligence officers. Another source said that they had personally authorized the bombing of “hundreds” of private homes of alleged junior operatives marked by Lavender, with many of these attacks killing civilians and entire families as “collateral damage.”

Remember, the Israeli occupation government considers all men over the age of 16 to be Hamas operatives hence why they've claimed to have killed over 9,000 of them (which matches the number of Palestinian men killed according to the Ministry of Health). So, when the article speaks of 'low level' or 'high level militants' they're likely speaking of civilians.

If Israel knew who Hamas fighters are, Oct 7th wouldn't have caught them off guard and they wouldn't still be fighting the Palestinian resistance every single day.

#yemen #jerusalem #tel aviv #current events #palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza #news on gaza #palestine news #news update #war news #war on gaza #war crimes #gaza genocide #genocide #artificial intelligence #ai #long post

[hothammies]

will byers, the resident sniper and medic - apoc au details under the cut!

---

will's role in the party:

a scouter - stays back to watch over the area during runs w/his rifle and is a backup supply runner if need be. just prefers to scout with dustin and mike

medic - normally takes care of the group regarding injuries and medicine. is very gentle :)

the angel on mike's shoulder -> knows how to placate mike the best if mike's being unreasonable or too harsh

most knowledgable about the infection and how it works -> helps with understanding the patterns of infected people, what attracts infection, etc.

party mediator - rarely ever fights with anyone (mostly with mike haha) and is usually the person people most often go to for a vent or a rant

skills + hobbies:

best with a rifle + second best with guns! -> he practices a lot with lucas but refuses to kill animals

cook of the group along with el (taught her how to cook): rest of the party can make edible food but don't know how to make it taste good

great knowledge of plants and medicine -> jonathan and joyce taught him all they know about it (they are healers)

draws in a sketchbook that mike stole from another group for him: filled with mundane sketches from life and treats it like a daily journal

likes to collect cds and cassettes that he finds around to play in the car (him and max discuss music the most) - fave bands include system of a down, gorillaz, the clash and the cure :) he's an alt rock fan!

quirks / fun facts:

him and lucas have an ongoing competition that started with their aim and is now based on literally anything -> they've been keeping score since they were nine (lucas is currently up by ten and the points are in the thousands)

will shuffles different music in the car and observes who in the party likes what so he can make his own little mental playlists for them!

him and dustin talk a lot about how the infection works. they have some very intense debates about it, especially when it comes to if the infected still have human consciousness or not (will thinks they do, dustin thinks they don't)

--- other notes: canon will, in a short summary, is a very sweet, sensitive, empathetic and capable boy who consistently puts others needs before his own :') of course, i wanted apoc will to share those attributes, with a big emphasis on his empathy, strength, and kindness. first - i wanted him to be a medic to show how he cares about other people and how he helps the people he loves as well. it's shown a lot in the show how much he cares for people and living beings (see: his actions with dart, el, mike, feeling bad for jonathan's hand after he had just woken up, etc.) and him being a healer is very in tune with this behavior. will as a healer is very special to me :') and him learning this skill from his mom and his brother strengthens the theme of family also!

second - him being good with a hunting rifle was to showcase his quiet strength and capability (i'd also like to add that his dexterity on his dnd sheet is extremely high) -> he's a non-confrontational survivor. his strength shines from afar and is put on the backlight, but no one in the party thinks will is weak for his empathy. mike and lucas, in particular, are actually quite jealous of the fact that will is still able to see so much good in humanity and life while being so strong. of course, his connection to the upside down in st is mirrored in this au as well, where he has an innate understanding of how the infection works because of experience, observation and other story spoilers...

looking at the current poll results, it seems im going to be drawing lucas and max next :D see you for that!

#imma be real honest and say that i only made will like gorillaz because i fucking love gorillaz #will byers #byler #stranger things #stranger things fanart #st apoc au #sammi's art

[cat3ch1sm]

hihi! i saw ur requests were open and i was wondering if u could do killua and gon with a reader whos a silly, clumsy, and kinda dumb mf <3

except readers very powerful, on level or even more than them bc reader is a boss fr 🙏

this can be hcs or a oneshot or whatever u want!

(SORRY IF THIS MAKES NO SENSE LMFAO)

☘️~ DW POOKIE I UNDERSTOOD U PERFECTLY!! thanks 4 requestingg ily <33

gn!reader

𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐚 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐰 𝐚 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐬𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 <𝟑

୨⎯ 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐚 ⎯୧

killua usually doesn’t have a lot of patience for people with your personality , but he’s honestly seen what you’re actually capable of so he’s more like.. weirded out

as in like, killua knows you’re crazy powerful and generally super capable- so how the hell do you literally manage to trip over every minor obstacle in your path

but tbh gon has kinda warmed him up to those kinds of people. outside of battle situations it’s basically him making sure you and gon don’t get kidnapped or killed or something

and the contrast between your personality during battle and your personality on just a regular day chilling with him and gon is like insane to him. one minute you’re covered in blood and utilizing blazing nen in ways he didn’t even realize were possible, and next you’ve pulled up like a really stupid meme or picture of a cat on your phone and just giggling like an idiot while showing him (and very much still bloodied).

killua asked you about it once and you just kinda gave him that thousand yard stare and he was just like… nvm

apparently your higher functions just shut off after a certain time 😭😭

but back to the clumsy part. because it’s genuinely insane how careless you can be on a daily basis. worse than gon.

“watch out for the fucking pole, y/n!”

“are you even paying attention?”

“what the hell did you even just trip over, you dumbass? there’s nothing even there.”

“holy shit can you be careful for once??”

“I literally watched you take down 10 chimera ants without breaking a sweat and you can’t even pull a push door, you idiot?”

“no, i’m not letting go of your arm because that’s the tenth time you’ve tripped in the past fifteen minutes. you’ll probably kill yourself if i don’t hold your ass up.”

“way to go, dumbass, now you cut your leg. maybe you’ll be less stupid next time” (while begrudgingly fixing you up)

along with being clumsy you can be super absent-minded and get distracted easily. like gon and killua will just be walking and talking and then suddenly stop and realize you stopped like ten feet ago to stare at absolutely fucking nothing.

when they backtrack to get you they’ll be like “wtf are you staring at” and you’ll just snap out of a daze and they’ll realize you weren’t even staring at anything in particular, you just…zoned out😭😭😭

“y/n. y/n? hellooooo? ugh… nevermind.”

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝐠𝐨𝐧 ࿐ྂ

we all know gon isn’t actually the silly, slightly air headed kid from the early days of hxh, obviously- but when he’s just with you and killua and there isn’t any danger, you both basically act the same way. believe me yall got killua stressinggg 😭😭

u guys just fuel each others’ silly antics. and while he isn’t as clumsy as you can be, when u guys are together you guys r genuinely a two man wrecking team. you guys are constantly doing silly and sometimes stupid stuff and not at all focusing.

far too many times you both have been walking or running beside each other and just stumbled over each other’s feet and fell to the ground like actual idiots.

you and gon both have the same tendency to get distracted easily. so basically the same scenario from killua’s hcs but you and gon lmfao

he’ll be walking looking at his phone or something and realize the both of you aren’t even beside him anymore.

“y/n? gon? where… you gotta be kidding me. guys. what the hell are you even looking at?!”

little Christmas head canon- you guys absolutely knocked down the tree at least twice.

#anime #hxh headcanons #hxh memes #hunter x hunter #gon x reader #reader x gon #gon freecss headcanons #gon freecss #killua zoldyck x you #reader x killua zoldyck #killua x you #reader x killua #killua zoldyck x reader #killua hc #killua headcanons #killua x reader #killua hxh #killugon #reader x gon free as

[epiphyllous]

when morning comes (Astarion/Reader) [1]

With your bleeding heart and altruistic bravery, it is almost too easy for Astarion to come to the conclusion that his best plan of action is to seduce you. All he has to do is not fall for you-- a feat easier said than done.

-or-

(Where were you ten, fifty, hundreds of years ago when he needed you? How dare you come now, the knight in shining armor for the less fortunate, when he has been waiting centuries for someone like you to save him? How dare you come to him now when he is like this?)

Word Count: ~10k Notes: Astarion/Reader, Paladin!Reader, AFAB, gender-neutral "you", a study in Astarion's romance route + added features, [switches to your POV], annoyance to lovers, fall first/fall harder, slight Lae'zel/Shadowheart, Wyll/Lae'zel, Halsin/Reader; may have some descriptors of my Tav but generally no specifics (let me have my brown eyes), NSFW contains Virgin!Reader, trauma related to Astarion's past [Part 2]

[Act I: Druid Groves]

From the start, you and Astarion chafed at each other's presence. Granted, he had threatened you at knife point, quick to suspect you were of the illithid colony, and you had responded in kind with a painful headbutt. But surprisingly enough, that had nearly no consequence to the relationship compared to the vastly different way the two of you engaged with the world.

"Do you always just... do things for other people for no reward?" Astarion asks you disdainfully when you promise Zevlor you would speak to Kagha. It's the third favor you've picked up in the last hour. "Seems very... inefficient."

"Yes?" You reply, confused as though he were the strange one. (In his humblest opinion, you're the lunatic who decides to help everyone who asks despite the arguably more pressing issue of their hostile parasite.) "I mean, helping them is going to help us in the long-run. We need information and supplies, and they have both of that."

A half-truth at best. Astarion has seen you soothe stray animals and children on the beaten road, help wayward allies, and offer up your amenities without hesitation. Helping others happens to align with your goal rather than the other way around. He feels his mouth twist in annoyance.

Astarion sniffs at your answer, and you give him the massive eye roll you habitually do every time the two of you argue. "Would it kill you to help them out a little?" You say, "It's not like it's completely out of our way to do it."

You make it sound so simple, he thinks bitterly. He glances at the sword at your hip and the shield on your back and wonders if you could ever understand how it feels to be powerless. It would explain your naivety, the way you cling onto doing the 'right' thing, your paladin vow to protect the weak no matter how foolhardy it may be. 

(Where were you, he thinks, ten, fifty, hundreds of years ago when he was still surviving on the scraps of whatever Cazador decided to provide for him that night? Where were you when his cruel master carved into his skin, a painter on a screaming canvas? When he was buried underground, no longer alive but still living, until he clawed his way up with bloody hands, only to find out his body and soul belonged to another? When he was compelled by vampiric thrall to lead his first victim of thousands to their death?

And how dare you come now, the knight in shining armor for the less fortunate, when he has been waiting centuries for someone like you to save him? How dare you come to him now when he is like this?)

"It's a matter of principle, darling." Astarion simpers, "I, for one, am not the type to play hero."

He expects a sneer, the silent treatment-- those he knows easily how to respond to. The gauging look you give him, though, and a thin veneer of frustration just underneath before it dissipates gives him pause. "Well," you say mildly, "we can agree to disagree. You're coming along anyways so let's just get going, yeah?"

Astarion follows you then with no comeback in mind, only a question as to how far your patience can go.

.

.

.

It is with great hesitation and no small amount of begrudgement that Astarion admits he has never been one for planning. After all, why hope for a future that will never occur? What future does he have when every move he makes is in accordance to someone else's will, every decision made never his own? 

When Astarion decided to travel with the unfortunate duo (now group) with similar illithid fates, he did not anticipate how difficult it would be to hide his affliction of a vampire. For the brief moment in the sun, he thought perhaps that because he was immune to daylight, his thirst for blood would have also disappeared. Imagine his surprise, nights after, when he finds himself starving and with no inconspicuous way to feed himself. 

There is always someone on the lookout for goblins or other enemies alike. There have been few times he can sneak out without calling attention to himself, especially for such a long absence as hunting for prey would be. Astarion can feel himself grow weak over the course of a few days, and though he briefly thinks about telling you the truth about his identity, he is resistant. 

Good heroes tend to hunt creatures of the night like him. Considering his blatant disregard for those you choose to protect, he isn't sure he will continue to be under your protection if he is outed. Astarion finds traveling as a pack to be too conveniently safe, but he is so, so hungry. In the midst of his hunger, anyone's blood will do, but it is yours that tempt him most: healthy, righteous, and pure-hearted. He has never been allowed to feed on a thinking creature, and at this point, he isn't sure if he should, considering the risks.

But Astarion is tempted by the smell of your blood shed during a particularly fierce battle, and as he feels his hands tremble, he concludes that he must find a way to feed tonight.

You always, without fail, set your tent up near the fire. It is where he finds himself creeping over your bedroll at the dead of night only to find that you have woken up to look up at him in shock. (He has never been one for planning.)

"...Shit," Astarion lets slip out, backing away. You stand at the ready, eyes boring into him as you come to the realization of what he is. "No, no- it's not what it looks like."

 "...And what exactly is it supposed to look like then?" You ask tensely, and Astarion feels the situation quickly run away from him.

"I wasn't going to hurt you!” He puts his hands up and swallows. “I just needed, well, blood."

"You're the reason why that boar on the side of the road had no blood.” You realize, narrowing your eyes. "How many things have you hunted without us knowing?” You accuse, “People?"

"No!" Astarion exclaims, "No people. Never any people. I can sustain myself on animals, kobolds even-- but it is not enough. Not when we're fighting every day like this."

He sees a flicker of sympathy in your eyes and hope builds in his chest. "I feel so weak," he pleads. "If I just had a little bit of blood, I could think clearer. Fight better. Please."

You don't relax but you don't try to attack him either. Astarion considers that a winning chance. "Have you told anyone that you're a vampire?"

"They're more likely to ram a stake through my ribs than anything," Astarion mutters. "At best– even for you– you'd say no unless you trusted me." He looks up at you and sees the way your eyes look into him for the truth. "And you can trust me. I wouldn't want to harm anyone in this camp." And it is technically the truth, though Gale tests his patience sometimes. Even he cannot promise that he wouldn't betray everyone at the drop of the hat if the situation begs for it, but this is a completely different matter at the moment. 

Your gaze is unfaltering, the silence palpable as the two of you look at each other. Astarion feels his palms sweat as he awaits your judgment and for the proverbial hammer to possibly fall on his head. 

"Okay," you say instead. "Alright. I trust you. As long as you don't try biting me again without permission, it's fine. Can you promise me that at least?"

"Really?" Astarion knows this is what he could ever hope for, but a part of him is baffled that you would ever think to trust him. He supposes your foolhardy compassion has its benefits-- though he would be lying to himself if he didn't admit there was a part of him that was rather... flattered by your trust. "Yes- yes, of course. Thank you."

He presses his lips in thought. If you were so willing to put your faith in him, then perhaps it would not hurt to ask. "If I could ask you to trust me just a little further..." He says, "I just need a little blood. I won't take anything more than I need. Please."

Astarion can see the hesitation in your eyes when he asks. Are you weighing your trust in him, he wonders. Or are you worried about your safety, the benefits versus the risks? It would make sense-- you really shouldn't. But a moment before you respond, he somehow knows that you would. 

[He looks so tired, you think, heart clenching with sympathy. You wonder how you've missed it for this long or if he's that good at pretending otherwise in the presence of others. It could be both-- Astarion has shown to be a great performer, and you are one of his best audiences. You find it difficult to argue against letting him bite you; the anticipated pain, the possible negative effect, the case that his hunger is too much for you to quench all pales in comparison to what good you would do for him. 

You are halfway to being smitten already, and you cannot deny yourself this.

But you are not naive. You are not fearless. For whatever trust you give to Astarion, you are afraid of the fact that if he betrays you in this, you can never go back to how it was before.]

"Promise me you'll stop if I tell you to," you tell him quietly. 

He acquiesces quickly. Of course, he will, he promises, only just enough. You lay back down at his suggestion, body tense in anticipation. He does not let that feeling linger too long, seizing his chance before you decide to change your mind. He buffets your body with his arms before he sinks his teeth into your outstretched neck. 

You taste better than he could possibly have imagined. 

To think he fed solely on mice before-- bog water in comparison to the sweet red of your blood, invigorating and undeniably delicious. Astarion gets another mouthful and groans, feeling strength return, warmth pooling into his belly. If bears and boars were the main course, then you are the mouth-salivating dessert– irresistibly delectable and leaving him wanting for more.

Your body trembles underneath him, your hand clenched into his shirt as a counterweight to the pain. Your pulse bounds underneath his tongue, the small gasps you cannot suppress resounds into his ears. This, too, puts feeding in a different plane than before, an extra level of appeal that can only be experienced with thinking creatures. Perhaps it is you in particular that adds another layer to the pleasure. Having you at his mercy, taking what you so graciously offered with ravenous hunger: power courses through him for more reasons than one.

[Your heart beats as fast as a rabbit's, fear and adrenaline powering you in the same manner. Or, if you were being honest, anticipation and a little bit of excitement fuels it as well as Astarion climbs on top of you, hunger in his eyes. 

It is a more literal type of hunger, but it is an intense look either way that leaves you frozen like a deer in headlights. 

The bite itself is more shocking than it is painful. You barely muffle your exclamation, unused to the feeling of someone so intimately close combined with the instinctive fear that accompanies the loss of blood. You hold onto Astarion without thought, and you squeeze your eyes and bite your lips as he takes your blood in with every suck. 

As scared as you may be, you are undeniably aroused from the feeling of it all-- the numbness that gently overtakes your mind, the light, floaty feeling of pleasure of the bloodloss combined with the intimacy of someone you’ve always been attracted to. The knowledge that he is gorging himself on you, taking pleasure from you, makes your blood run hotter than it has any right to in this situation. 

And then, you feel a switch flip, and the lightness becomes disorienting, and the numbness bleeds into coldness. Panic starts climbing up your throat. You let yourself think for the briefest moment if Astarion will let go on his own, but you know you will not last long enough to wait. Worry gnaws at you at this thought, and you can only hope that Astarion is true to his word when you tell him to stop.

And he does. Perhaps it is the feeling that you have placed your trust in the right person that has felt the best out of everything that has happened tonight.]

"Astarion-" he hears you grit out, "that's enough."

“Hm? Oh, yes, of course.” It takes but a moment for Astarion to register it before removing his fangs from your neck. He sees blood trickle from the punctures and he bemoans the waste as he pulls away. Next time– if there is a next time– he'll be neater, he thinks. He watches as you breathe just as hard as him, eyes slightly glazed over, and he barely resists the urge to lick his lips. 

He stands from you to give you space, and you slowly sit up, looking at him with an emotion he can't quite place. It concerns him little at the moment with the strongest blood he's ever consumed in two millennia coursing through him.

“That was…” Astarion begins, breathless with adrenaline, “Amazing.” He delicately wipes the blood from the side of his mouth, an irrepressible smile on his face.

“Hope that helped,” you say, and he almost laughs at the understatement of two centuries.

“It very much did.” Astarion breathes in deeply. “My mind is finally clear. I feel… strong,” he nearly purrs. Happy.”

“Looking forward to seeing you fight then,” you say, hand at your neck as the punctures gradually close. You sigh, wiping your bloody hands onto the patch of grass. “Going out to hunt?” You ask like any other day.

“I am, darling.” He stands tall, head held high with a confidence he has not felt in ages. To think this is what he's been missing out on… “You're invigorating, but I'll need to get something more… filling,” he tells you, glancing back.

You give him a flippant wave of the hand, and he isn't sure if you are too tired to be wary of him or uncaring of the risk considering what you allowed him to do. “Good hunting,” you say genuinely before yawning. 

“I will. And-” You turn to him then, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion but still alert. Astarion pauses for a moment. “This is a gift, you know,” he says. “I won't forget it.”

He walks off into the forest after and finds easy prey to feast on. It's a shame it does not taste as good as you did, but he will make do and ride out the feeling of power for as long as he can. It is when he returns to camp with you fast asleep by the fire that Astarion realizes the emotion on your face was relief: relief that he had stopped when you had asked, and that he kept to his word. 

What a fragile thing trust is, to be put to the breaking point at a single moment in time. What if he had continued to consume and drink you dry? He suspects it would have rather dire consequences to your mortality and even worse effects to his relationship with you. It would be unsalvageable, he realizes, if he had not stopped when you had asked. For some things may be forgiven, but this would be reprehensible. 

Astarion finds that he understands you too well for his liking. How many times has he not been able to give consent? Wanted to say 'no' but forced to say yes? (Not knowing now how to say 'no' at all?)

For the sake of his own livelihood (the camp would kill him for your death), his budding relations with you, and a part of him that yearns for what he should have had, Astarion is glad that he was not greedy tonight-- and, as the day comes, for the following nights to come.

The pitchforks and torches do not come the next morning. Maybe it is because everyone else has their equally dangerous secret to hide or because of your influence on the camp. You are more concerned at how you would help him feed than afraid that he will hurt anyone. 

"Why, isn't it my favorite traveling companion," he says to you when you approach him.

"You mean tastiest,” you say back, and he knows you are truly well and beyond hard feelings if you can joke about it.

"Well, I suppose that as well.” He tells you, “Though you have been the only one I've bitten so there is no competition, really."

And to his surprise, telling you about Cazador, his ill-begot fate as a vampire spawn and its subsequent diet, is easier than he would have expected. You listen with a sympathetic but otherwise neutral ear that makes it easy for him– and he suspects everyone else– to confess their circumstances to you. He's rather surprised he's been able to “resist” for this long. Even Gale has confessed he has a literal living bomb inside him in the little time they've all spent together as a group. 

(It goes to show how much everyone has grown to trust you; even Astarion is starting to see what everyone else sees in you.)

“I don't mind you taking my blood once in a while,” you instruct him, “but you can't just do it to an innocent person.”

“And how about a guilty person?” Astarion asks slyly, gleefully watching as you saddle next to him with a similar smile. 

“Free real estate, I suppose,” you say nonchalantly. “Just ask before you bite me?”

“No more late night surprises, you have my word on that.” He smiles, fangs bared, and you don't even blink at the sight of them. 

.

.

.

In the druid grove, you pick up a few more favors from the locals, though at least you have begun to ask for aid for the road. Not exactly payment, though you are offered a reward anyways. Astarion thinks you are either very lucky people are desperate for help or very charming in that innocent, eager to do good type of way that compels people to be generous. It is not unlike Wyll, who joins your group of illithid-afflicted companions, as the Blade of Frontiers. 

Naturally, the two of you get along as like-minded individuals. Gale, too, gravitates toward you for your compassion, and Shadowheart trusts you for perhaps the same reasons. Even Lae'zel, who you often have problems speaking to without feeling intimidated, has come to begrudgingly accept you as the de facto leader of the group. You are, as Astarion suspected, strong in battle as you are in personality. 

He often forgets both, but he cannot be blamed. After he witnesses you stand up to Lae'zel for the sake of an intimidated tiefling, he sees you lose an argument against a squirrel. Astarion sees you send goblins off rooftops and speak to trolls with confidence, and then he watches as you ask him to unlock a barn door with raunchy sex noises simply out of morbid curiosity. 

It is in these moments-- apart from your heroism and startling sense of morality-- that you and Astarion are often on the same page. As long as it is not from the needy, you don't find it a problem to loot. (He thinks practicality plays a role in disturbing dead bodies for money and items, and your vow says nothing against it.) If it's for the sake of peace, you don't mind spinning half-truths and lies. (The lies he personally thinks you need to work on more but he is a master of deception so perhaps there is no comparison with him.)

Your curiosity knows no bounds, and it is in this, both you and Astarion take cheerful glee in raking chaos. 

"I don't know what I expected!" You say almost cheerily after the group defeats the unlikely couple of bugbear and ogre after purposely interrupting their very loud lovemaking. 

Shadowheart gives you a raised eyebrow that has you sheepishly grin at her, and Astarion lets out a laugh. "Well, I certainly had a guess, but finding out was very interesting indeed."

"Interesting... is certainly a way to describe the scene we just witnessed," Gale says dryly. Astarion catches your eyes before you smile slyly. 

Innocently, you comment, "I wonder how the mechanics worked with the height difference-"

Gleefully, Astarion is quick to join in, watching Gale balk at the topic, “Well, with the way she was on her knees-” 

"Some things need not be pondered!"

That is when Astarion realizes that as long as the world stops begging for your help, the two of you get along quite well. If anything, Astarion finds your presence and comments most amusing out of everyone in camp. Gale is exceedingly verbose and other times awkward. Lae'zel Astarion isn't sure knows the meaning of joking, though her violent tendencies are right up his alley. Shadowheart-- as it turns out and makes total sense-- is a worshiper of Shar and therefore an automatic stick in the mud. 

Wyll waxes far too much about justice, and Karlach, when they find her and proceed to not kill her despite Wyll's initial request, is the next best thing though he is still wary of how hot she burns. You, however, have the humor and wit to match every ridiculous situation they encounter, and if anything, Astarion must give you that. God knows how he'd survive the boredom of camp and not being arms deep in gore without having someone to gossip with. 

The two of you agree the most when it comes to other topics, like Mystra's treatment of Gale, how good Wyll looks with horns, feelings about Gods. It makes for great and easy conversations though the two of you are also quick to snark if there is a disagreement. Astarion admits his words were sharp in the beginning (and you gave it right back until you just mellowed out) but he eventually relaxed when his role in camp solidified after his vampiric reveal.

And what a gift your blood was; Astarion counts his lucky stars that you continue to offer your neck to him as long as it is only yours he bites-- with permission, of course.

He was almost beginning to relax when a gur comes, asking for him.

Luckily enough, it seems this Gandrel has no idea what he looks like, so the two of you can play innocent together. You and Astarion give each other a discrete look before you go back to talking to the monster hunter. It must be Cazador, he seethes. Who else would put a Gur on his tracks acres away from Baldur's Gate? 

"And what did you want to do with this vampire spawn?" You ask innocuously.

"I would like to capture him."

"Capture? Not kill? Does someone want him alive?" You question, and Astarion must give you this: you are an excellent conversationalist, to seek more without giving much at all. Your eyes widen in what can be assumed as surprise, though they remain calculating. "You said so yourself: even vampire spawn are dangerous. Why would you accept a job to capture him?"

The gur shuffles his feet for a moment, chewing on his words. Astarion watches in secretive awe as you urge the hunter to trust you with unbidden information. "Well... It's not a request from an outside source..." He trails off, "We... have questions we were hoping he would answer."

Now that's curious, Astarion thinks. What would a monster hunter need for a spawn besides its demise? He knows you have the same question when he glances over at you as you watch on thoughtfully.

"Were you hoping to capture it to get to the vampire lord or something?" You ask, "Is that something that would even work?"

"We have little leads besides this vampire spawn, if I can be frank." He sighs and Astarion watches as he unravels the truth before you. "It's our children, you see. They've been captured.”

You are ever sympathetic to the Gur's plight--genuinely so. You hold no qualms keeping Astarion's name from your mouth but you speak to the Gur and provide him with advice and information you have received from Astarion. What a cheeky pup you are, playing double agent without batting an eye. Astarion feels like forgiving you for taking away the opportunity to get rid of the monster hunter once and for all just for the show of your wit and guile. 

Though Astarion thinks you could afford to be more ambitious. If you could have perhaps a little creativity in deciding what you want to do with the little tadpole in your brain or the absolutist cult, Astarion is sure the two of you would get along more.

"I don't know how the tadpole will change me," you admit with unexpected vulnerability. "I don't want to give them more power over me, and I don't know if feeding them will let them."

"Well..." Astarion pauses, scoffing at your response before he can accept the fact the two of you have more in common that he would rather believe. He'd rather not lose what he barely got back as well, he thinks. "I suppose there is reason to hesitate so maybe I'll wait until some other brave soul decides to give it a go." He gives you a look before continuing, "Try not to convince the others too much. I'm not too eager to be the first and only one to eat a tadpole."

You shrug noncommittally, promising nothing. Astarion barely resists the urge to roll his eyes. Paladins. 

.

.

.

Considering the dire straits in which you are bound and the rocky start the two of you had, Astarion would not have imagined the relationship with you to progress in this manner. Having you trust him was already beyond what was expected, especially after revealing his vampiric origins. Giving him your blood was a gift that he could hardly believe happened. One can imagine his surprise when he finds out you are charmed by his wits, finding genuine joy in his wry commentary. 

For god knows why, you have grown fond of him-- he can see it in the way you provide him with the best equipment, the way you seek his presence. The way you laugh freely around him and turn your back to him during battle, believing he will defend it. Though arriving at this point was coincidental, it is almost too easy for Astarion to come to the conclusion that his next step is to seduce you. 

Astarion sees your laughter, but he also sees the way you throw him glances when you think the others aren't looking. You instinctively lean closer to him when he is near and when he speaks, your eyes are quick to find him. You are attracted to him– and he means to capitalize on it and make you feel as though you would rather die than have him get hurt.

It's a simple plan, really. The seduction comes easy; all he needs to do is stay unattached, so if things go wrong, he'll find someone else to take cover under. 

(The plan should be simple-- he has learned tactics that would put any to their knees, tricked hundreds of people of his affections. But something about doing this to you-- this performance-- makes him uneasy. 

It's a shame, he finds himself thinking. He thinks he was beginning to like you too.

The thought lingers only for a moment. He is quick to push it from his mind; that too is a learned habit.)

Astarion finds his opportunity after the goblin camp has been slain and the tieflings throw a celebration in thanks. 

The wine is mediocre at best, but there is much of it to be shared, so the party is still in full blast when the moon is overhead. He finds himself a secluded part of camp to sip at the sorry excuse of a liquor, discomfited by the praise they give him for participating in the fight against the goblins. 

You are unused to the praise as well, humble as you are, but you are nearly glowing from the joy you feel as you make merry with those you have befriended. The rest of the party, even companions who were ambivalent at best at the idea of helping the tiefling immigrants, are satisfied with the outcome despite the lack of progress with removing the tadpole. He would say otherwise– the trade of goblin lives for tieflings hardly makes a difference, and surely the goblins would throw a wilder party than this. He says as much to you when, faithfully, you find your way to him to talk.

“All I want,” he tells you, “is a little bit of fun. Is that so much to ask?”

You snort into your drink. “Knowing you, it could be.”

“Don't be so sour,” he croons. “I like a good time as much as anyone.” His eyes fall half-lidded as he looks at you. You raise your brow at him, noticing the change in tone as he continues. "You know, we could always make our own entertainment."

The look you give him is partly apprehensive and the other amused. He knows that glimmer of recognition of what he is asking, though you are quick to hide it for plausible deniability. "...What do you mean by that?"

Astarion, with practiced ease, leans in, watching as you instinctively do the same before he purrs out, "Why, sex, of course. Experiencing a little death, figuratively speaking, is quite fun, wouldn't you agree?"

Your face is already flushed from the alcohol, but your cheeks on high brighten in the dimly lit torches at his tent. It's evident you didn't expect him to suggest something like that, especially to you, though you are not completely unwilling if the lack of immediate denial is of any indication.

You are rendered speechless though; a first for you considering how quick you often are at retorting back at his comments. It makes Astarion think of two conclusions: you are either inexperienced or incredibly shocked at his offer. Both are familiar, though the thought of your naivety extending into sexual relations does, at the very least, give him pause.

It is not as if he has never been someone's first. Virgins are often most eager to lose or prove themselves in someone so willing to offer bliss. If you are one, well– the shy ones are always the ones that are easier to fell.

He prepares himself to drop a few one-liners to convince you to take the offer, but you glance away for a moment before you turn toward him, face unreadable.

"If you're down," you say. You smile.  "I don't mind."

"Until later then," Astarion replies easily. "Wouldn't want the others to interrupt, unless you're interested in that."

At this, you laugh, and he relaxes. "Definitely not. Though, I'm curious." You ask, "Am I your first choice, or am I just the first to say 'yes'?"

Astarion finds the best lies are in truths. "Lae'zel was quite eager to find a partner earlier. Luckily she and Wyll are in quite the agreement for tonight as far as I can hear and I have no desire to get in between whatever the githyanki has in store." He smiles slyly at you. "Besides, I couldn't help but overhear you flirting with our druid earlier so I at least knew you were in the, ah, mood. Never imagined you'd be quite so bold." 

"It's the alcohol," you mutter, rubbing your cheek. You take the wine from his hand and take another swig. "Also, I didn't realize he'd be coming with us so that was a surprise. Almost as much of a surprise as you asking me." You glance at him briefly. "Well, sort of."

Astarion feels a familiar prickle of suspicion as he stares at you, already unamused at whatever dirty truths you have prepared for him. "What is it now?"

You quip a half smile, eyes bright under the torch fire. (Your eyes are brown.) "Nothing," you say teasingly. "Guess you do like me a little bit."

Astarion watches as you walk away, feeling less victorious than he imagined himself to be.

The flirting, the seduction, the fight for survival is familiar. The banter, the bickering, the camaraderie between the two of you is beginning to be just as familiar. Astarion feels just the slightest bit unease at how true your words are. 

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.

Astarion has much to prepare for the night, so it is lucky that you take center stage of the party, as the savior of the grove. You take part in the merriment and make conversations, taking genuine interest in the stories others tell. The tieflings keep you busy for the most part, but Astarion is nothing if not good at building anticipation, putting as much heat into his gaze as possible when you do have time to take a glance at him. 

You are quick to focus your attention elsewhere after giving him a look, but the smile on your face that stays means that at least he is always on your mind. In some ways, he has missed this... coyness, the thrill of the chase. The results of his previous endeavors never fail to unease him, but with you, it is different. The familiarity of seduction comes with a little bit more fun knowing you are not going to be his victim- not like it usually is. 

"Hey, still not joining in on the fun?" You suddenly ask him, your hand gently prying at his arm so you can hook onto him. You have gotten more drunk in the time you were away, the warmth of your skin seeping into him from where you've attached yourself. Your face is almost comically red if not for the carefree smile on your face and the affection that betrays on your face when you look at him.

Something in his chest warms at the sight of you.

"Unfortunately, the tieflings' company has not become any more appealing since you've been gone. Besides," Astarion says slyly, "the only thing I've been thinking of is how you'll taste later when we're alone."

You let out a huff, turning your head away with a half-embarrassed and pleased smile. "Laying it on a little thick, aren't you?"

"Not at all," he replies easily. "It's the truth, after all." 

You look at him as though you don't believe a word, but you are charmed by them anyway if your expression is of any indication. As conscientious as you normally are, the alcohol and the fact you are delving into his territory of seduction puts you at a disadvantage. Even if you are the one that knows him best in the camp, you are not attuned to every secret. Half-truths and lies come easier than anything else, if only because it allows him to keep his distance.

When the camp is cleared and you linger to bid the others farewell, Astarion slips away to the lake to prepare. It is almost ritualistic the way he cleans himself, the cold waters readying himself for what comes next. He thinks of what lines to tell you, how he should appear to you to best whet your appetite. Are you chaste or are you more animalistic? Would you prefer to take a dominant or submissive role? Astarion cannot tell these things about you based on his interactions with you, so he can only rely on his flexibility and years of experience to get him through it. 

(For a brief moment, he wonders if this is something he must do. What if you would protect him regardless of how this night goes? You are compassionate, sympathetic to the plight of others-- goodness flows within your veins like the light that beacons from your holy sword. Could that light not shield him too, without his body as an offering?

But gods are rarely so magnanimous, no matter the sacrifices. Astarion will not take his chances even with you. 

Even then-- even then, he wants this night to be at least a little enjoyable. It is with you, after all. If there is someone who can allow him to feel safe, it is you.)

Moonlight beams above, and Astarion hears your quiet footsteps come closer. His expression masks into something more suitable for seduction and he steps from the shadows of the trees to greet you. 

Upon seeing him, you yelp in surprise and- god, can you blame him?- he jumps as well. 

"What in God's name-"

"Sorry, sorry! I didn't expect to see you half naked all of a sudden!" You stammer, "I mean, not all of a sudden, I guess. Your... state of undress didn't cross my mind as something I'd see right away."

It is reckless when his mark is so close to fruition, but he finds himself dropping the act, hand at his hips in an instinctual indignant huff you seem to invoke from him easily. "Darling, what did you expect after the invitation I gave?" Your sheepish grin is your only answer, and Astarion feels a quick flash of annoyance at how easily you are able to derail his thoughts. 

Quick to redirect the conversation though, Astarion angles his body sensually, lowering his voice in the manner he knows can send shivers down his victims. "Perhaps you'd prefer if you could strip me down yourself?"

Like clockwork, your cheeks flush pink even as you roll your eyes in attempts to salvage your embarrassment. "Only you'd be able to pull those lines out of nowhere," you mutter, and Astarion allows himself the satisfaction when you approach him, eyes looking down at him appreciatively.

Only a small gap lies between the two of you now, your dark eyes meeting his. You are waiting on him; Astarion does not hesitate. 

He takes your face into his hands and brings his lips to yours. Your eyes close almost immediately to the touch as you give into him, face tilting up to align with him and mouth parted to allow him in. Though Astarion knows not how you incline to be normally, he knows that this night, he's the one in control.

Your hands curl into the front of his chest as though you do not know where to touch, so he helps you along and pulls you in until there is nothing separating you. Astarion can see the way your eyes widen when you can feel his arousal beneath his trousers, and recognizes your interest with the way your pupils darken your eyes. 

There is a slight satisfaction in seeing you this way. As stubborn as you are, you are malleable in his touch, opening up to his hands like a flower in bloom. He lifts you up against the tree, your legs quickly wrapping around his waist in response, and your little giggle morphs into a gasp of pleasure when he grinds into you fully. 

It is probably instinctual the way you arch your back and bare your neck to him. It isn't in him to resist the temptation to bury his nose into the crook, nipping at the sensitive skin between your collar bone. And this is when he feels your hands, that were curled into his hair, push him back slightly, and his stomach drops. 

He should be worried that he made a mistake and think about how to put you back on track with him. His safety depends on his success, after all. Despite himself, Astarion feels more hurt at your rejection, your mistrust, than anything. (Since when did that ever matter to him?)

"I wasn't going to bite, you know," he says, hoping nothing in his voice gives anything away.

"No, that's not it," you tell him, and your hand is quick to cup his face reassuringly. He finds himself soothed by your gesture though he wishes he was not in need of it in the first place. "I trust you not to without my say. I mean, you probably could tonight if you wanted..." You trail off. "I just wanted to let you know something before we go any further." 

The offer for blood pleases him more than it should, as does the affirmation of your trust. "Whatever you want to say, darling, I doubt it'll deter me from having my way with you tonight," Astarion says, eyes half-lidded and staying strong despite the undignified huff you give him. 

"Well, alright," you say as you try to save face. You brush over his collarbone with your thumb as you think. You're nervous, he realizes, over whatever you have to say, and he can't begin to guess what you could possibly reveal that would be of such import to leave you in such a state. "I... have never-- this is my first time. Having sex," you say, and Astarion does his utmost not to show any semblance of surprise. 

"I hope," you continue, "that's okay? You'll probably have to show me a lot of things but, you know..."

You are a virgin after all. Astarion had some thoughts on the matter but he never truly took stock in it considering how rare it is to save yourself for this long. You were modest but far from prude, and you had thoughts of debauchery like any other in the camp. But you are of untouched flesh. Inexperienced. And yet you accepted him to be your first? 

You are not so unique that he has never bedded someone like you, but it does tweak his heart in a way it has not for a long while that you are giving yourself to him as a result of his seduction. You feel self conscious about this inexperience, and it would be easy to take advantage of that for his benefit. Typical, even.

The thought does not sit well with him.

"I know you wanted a fun night," you tell him, eyes downcast when he does not respond. "So I get it if you're not interested anymore since I'm probably going to be a lot of work-"

"And what’s to say we cannot have fun while discovering something new?" Astarion interrupts in a momentary panic. He's not on autopilot but he's not stopping the night from happening despite your deference- so what is he doing? "Darling, I'm rather concerned you want to spend your first night with a vampire-" He needs to get back on script.

He recites the words in his mind. Isn't this what you want? To lose yourself in me? And all he has to do is say it-

"No, that's not-" You talk back, frowning. "You being a vampire has nothing to do with it. When you asked, I said yes because I trust you, vampire or not." 

To have and to hold, he thinks, and wonders how you have survived for so long being so willfully trusting when at times you should not. "Then trust me, darling," he says, heat building in his chest. He lifts you up again and growls. "Let's have some fun. That's what you want, isn't it?"

"If that's what you want," you breathe out, and Astarion claims your mouth with his own.

You let out a sigh when he begins to undress you, his dexterous hands easily removing every lace and button to leave you bare. You giggle into his kiss, and Astarion lets himself smile, being pulled along as you roll on top of him playfully, mischief in your eyes. You full on laugh when he rolls you back over, uncaring of the outdoors, bearing your neck for him to bite. 

Astarion doesn't remember the last time he's had fun doing this. And it is fun- always has been with you, he realizes, a type of levity that he has not experienced with anyone else. He takes leisure in biting you, sucking a mouthful of blood that has him moaning into your neck as he rolls his hips into you. Your hand gently cards through his hair as he bites, and true to his word (only taking just enough), he pulls back with blood on his lips before swooping down to share in his bounty. 

He cannot help but laugh when you stick out your tongue at him, nose wrinkling at the metallic taste of blood that is otherwise sweet to him. He pulls his remaining clothes off and smirks when he sees you follow the line of sight down to his hardened cock in compulsive curiosity. 

"Like what you see, darling?" 

You make a noncommittal hum as you sit up, quick as you are unbothered by your nakedness. "Can I?" You ask, gesturing toward him, and he would find it amusing for you to ask if not for how eagerly you grasp his member at his nod.

Astarion hisses in pleasure as you pump his cock, getting into an easy rhythm with your thumb sliding deliciously on the tip of it. He watches as you gather spit to smoothen the pace, hand delicately pushing your hair from your face, and feel arousal melt into his belly like molten lava. 

"Why, it seems you have a little bit of experience in this matter, or are you just talented?" He asks and earns himself a coy look. 

"Just twice," you say, twisting your hand in a way that has him rolling his hips. "Hold my hair, will you?" 

Astarion is quick to follow your orders-- almost instinctively-- and before he has a moment to ponder on that, he is throwing his head back when your mouth swallows his cock in wetness and heat.

Most of his so-called lovers were more eager to be pleased than please; it makes sense that you would be different with the way you are. Your eagerness is quite adorable, as is your earnestness to provide him pleasure. Astarion revels in it, ecstasy climbing up like a tidal wave.

"That's enough, dear," Astarion purrs. He sees you look at him with a protest on your lips, and he continues, "I'd much rather continue this while I'm inside you." 

Based on your expression, you are more than thrilled at the aspect. 

Astarion guides you to lay down as he climbs over, hands carving a path over your curves and into your heat. He is careful to not scrape his fangs over your bosom, though he suspects you would not mind it in the least with how roughly he plays with your nipples to elicit a moan. You are dripping by the time he is done preparing you. 

It does not take much resistance to enter you fully. You let out a short cry, reaching out to him instinctively for comfort as your body adapts to him. True to your words, you are tight beyond measure, squeezing his cock as though you are determined to milk him for what he's worth. You pant into his ears, hands grasping over his shoulders as you ease into the feeling of him. 

The moment you nod, Astarion begins to move steadily. It is easy for the both of you to lose yourself in the pleasure, and it is these moments that he feels himself drift away, and the feeling of dread settles in.

Any type of intimacy takes him acres away, the gasps and moans that was music to his ears fading into numbness. He hardly knows what he's doing, except to know that he's doing well enough, hands playing at your clit as he moves at a persistent rhythm.

Astarion wishes it were different. Sex is fun, especially with you, if only it didn't make him feel as though he were fighting for his life. Every stroke calculated, every climax comes with a price. You are not to be taken back to Cazador, but it still feels like he's going to. 

You tighten around him, and he knows you are about to come just as he is. He lets out a grunt and persists through a rapid pace before feeling your body jolt in pleasure. He soon follows after, head upon your shoulder as he shudders into his climax. 

The night is still young; why don't we go back to my place for more? 

Won't you come home with me? We need so much more time to get to know each other.

His next lines come too easily for him that it makes him sick.

A hand pulls at his cheek rather cheekily and Astarion finds himself coming back from the haze. He lifts his head to look at you, face relaxed from pleasure but still otherwise amused. 

Is it ridiculous to think that the sight of you makes him feel safe?

"That," you begin, "was crazy. Sex is like that, huh?" 

"Be welcomed to the land of the living, darling," Astarion says. "I fear you have been missing out on one of the finer parts of life."

"Well, it's not like I've never orgasmed before," you tell him, "but I guess it is pretty different with someone else." You sigh when Astarion removes himself from you. "Thank you for being so patient with me."

"No need to mention it, darling," he says, finding it easy to relax with the banter, "though I dare say it did not take very long for you to be prepared. Why, I'd even call that a record for getting as wet as you did-"

"Hey!" He avoids your playful slap with ease as you pout at him. "I... I have no comeback to that, except maybe you're welcome."

"I'm welcome? I should be the one saying that to you. I'm rather magical in bed, don't you think?"

"I don't know if your neck could support a head that big if I agree with you." You laugh, flipping your hair away again. For a moment, Astarion has the urge to take it upon himself to brush the stray strands from your face, but he does not. "By the way," you continue, "are you okay?"

Astarion blinks. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, you just seemed a little..." You stop before shaking your head. "No, never mind. You seemed a little far away but what would I know."

His heart lurches. "I had to make sure I didn't lose control," he says carefully. He clears his throat and goes for levity. "Who knows if your fragile, virgin body can handle it?"

Astarion is grateful you take the line for how it is, quick to come up with a haughty retort, the banter easy to fall back to. You are adamant on being sturdy enough and not one to waste a chance, he proposes a long night of lovemaking-- if only to cinch the deal with you. After all, he thinks as your legs close around his head, this is all part of his plan: seduce you and win your protection. Nothing more, nothing less.

He tries not to think how sex for once, as he nips playfully at your thigh, has been enjoyable. 

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.

.

The sun wakes him up before anything else. It is unfamiliar to him, even at least a month beyond the time when his deathly aversion to sunlight has disappeared. The warmth of the morning rays, the light that dawn brings-- Astarion did not realize how much he had missed it until he had felt it again. 

He almost isn't sure if he can ever go back to never feeling it again.

He stands to bask in it fully, glancing over to his side to watch your sleeping figure for a moment. You are curled up in your own clothes-- and his shirt as well, he remembers, having a little play fight over it before you eventually let exhaustion take you. The ache in his body from last night is familiar at least, and he stares at you, waiting for the dread to come-- but it does not. 

How curious. Only good for his plans if everything is more palatable, of course, but it is... unexpected for him to feel so at ease. He decides not to question it, using this moment of strangely acquired peace to face the sun in its entirety.

Your voice filters in after many minutes, a little scratchy from slumber. "You awake already?" 

"It isn't exactly the break of dawn, dear," Astarion replies, and he shoots a glance back expecting your usual deadpan, but you are rubbing your eyes sleepily instead. A thought comes to mind that he has never seen you in your first waking moments: you are rather unguarded, movements leisurely and expression soft still. It's quite... cute. "I'm rather surprised you're awake. I thought you'd be exhausted from last night."

You let out a titter behind your hand at this. "Yeah, well, everything aches in different ways than a fight, so it's not too bad." You yawn. "Still sleepy though," you mumble, looking up at him through the gaps between your fingers as you block the sun from your eyes. 

"Say," you begin, and Astarion realizes belatedly that the reason you were looking so intently at him was because you saw his back. "Can I ask about those markings on your back? Are they scars?"

"A poem from my old master," he replies facetiously. "Or so I assume. He carved it all into my back in one night." His lips purse. "He made a lot of revisions."

"I'm sorry," he hears you say with sympathy in your voice, and he knows he must quickly move on from this topic. 

"It's fine," he says abruptly. "It doesn't matter now. I'm free and far from Baldur's Gate. And he'll never control me ever again."

"Good," you say, and he wonders if putting warmth into your words comes naturally to you.

"Yes, it is." He pauses. "May I have my shirt back? Not that I mind being half nude, by the way- if only to let everyone know exactly what went on last night."

"Don't even joke," you sputter, tossing his shirt- miraculously clean- to him. "I don't kiss and tell! And they'll definitely know, but not the details!”

.

.

.

In the morning glow, nothing much has changed. As predicted, the entire camp is in-the-know of whomever slept with who. Astarion is quick to inquire Lae'zel about her tryst with Wyll, only to find, to the mutual disappointment, that he spent most of the time talking about his feelings. Shadowheart, on the other hand, was more than happy to share her wine last night. 

"Shadowheart mates like she fights," Lae'zel says. "Precisely and aggressively."

"Which is a good thing, I assume."

"Immensely." Lae'zel pauses then in breaking down her tent to look at him intently, which, for the githyanki, is as terrifying as anything. "I see you and our paladin decided to explore each other's bodies last night."

"Why, yes, thank you for noticing. It was quite the exploration," he responds, opening his mouth to elaborate.

"I suppose even you have your charms," she tells him instead, and the conversation ends there.

(Astarion hopes to glean more conversation elsewhere to no luck. Your talk with Shadowheart this morning is brief ("Lae'zel, huh."/"Astarion."/"Yep."), and Karlach's put-out expression is enough to give sympathy and a wide berth. Astarion sees Gale gazing upon the visage of his goddess again and turns the other way.)

The camp dynamic stays strangely the same. It is to Astarion's benefit, for he was comfortable with how the way things were, though he is more generous with the pet names for you. Halsin joins the fray, and they make their way to the mountains upon Lae'zel's insistence. 

In the midst of adventure, Astarion finds that you seek his presence more often. His night invitation seemed to open an avenue up for you to be more comfortable in doing so. Astarion finds he doesn't mind it; your camaraderie is most enjoyable in the too quiet camp and as far as "seducing" goes, you are doing half the work for him. 

Your gaze holds some heat for him once in a while when the moon is high and the fire burns low, but you have not asked him for another night. He is neither pleased nor displeased at the notion, because your affections for him are as clear as day. He knows you would say yes in a heartbeat if he did propose another night together, but he rather likes the late-night conversations he often has with you, a type of intimacy that borders on his comfort zone-- exciting and enjoyable without the unnecessary reminders of his past. 

Still, he sometimes finds himself recalling his night with you fondly. It's strange: he's gotten on his back ten thousand times or more and forgotten half of them, but his time with you, he knows he will remember. 

Astarion puts the thoughts of "why" (why you? Why are you different? What makes you special?) behind him for now. A treasure hunt for the Blood of Lathander (as if you needed to shine even brighter), a stolen githyanki egg (Lae'zel keeps it safe in her backpack), and an escape from a créche later, Astarion is more than happy to find refuge in the underdark, which proves to be more beautiful than any of them could imagine.

Something makes him look over to you then, and he watches as you take in the sights with wonder in your eyes, the gentle darkness cradling your face in its dreamy blue glow.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion/tav #astarion/reader #astarion bg3 #will there be a second part? who knows #i black out and suddenly there is 10k words

[vaguely-concerned]

I have seen people question whether dios apate minor really needed to happen the way it did. it's the 'this could have been an email' of htn. 'augustine this did not have to be a threesome', I hear people saying. and boy do I have an obnoxious amount of things to say to protest this perfectly sensible assertion so here we go haha

1) yes it absolutely had to be like that. It says so on this piece of paper *hands you a piece of paper that says "because I said so and also it's narratively and thematically Sexy"* in my half-legible handwriting. seeing tamsyn muir describe harrow the ninth as a book about being a kid and realizing your parents probably had sex has given me such validation, I am unstoppable now. (to be serious for a moment, harrow the ninth is essentially a bildungsroman, and the threesome scene does a whole lot of thematic heavy lifting around harrow glimpsing elements of adulthood, relationships, and sexuality she clearly finds at the same time repulsive, bewildering and fascinating, and around opening her and especially our eyes to how much john is just a man with human longings still, under the god stuff. dios apate is crucial plot- and character-wise too -- it's a loadbearing threesome in terms of delivering the clues you need to piece together the mystery plot of the book, which is simply delightful -- but even more so thematically. and then the scene at the end where they confront john gives gideon some of that same opportunity to peek into adulthood and go '...well shit I guess', as a sort of mirror, just without the french kissing that time and more murder. the things magnus and abigail model for the girls about love and adulthood? mercy and augustine are providing the opposite-day batshit insane version of that fhdskjfa, you know, for contrast and spice)

2) listen... it gets lonely out there in deep space with your 'legendary unamorous' brother, two infant pathetic baby kitten sisters who you'll probably have to kill one day when you take another stab at god if they don't manage to get themselves killed along the way on their own, and the two people you've spent the last ten thousand years having separate yet connected married & divorced arcs with and also btw one of them is god... honestly a threesome over the dinner table is probably The most well-adjusted reaction one might hope for under those circumstances

3) on a characterization level I think Augustine is actually doing something incredibly deliberate with it: he's presenting John with yet another chance to admit what he did. which is notable especially since the deal he and mercy agree on as a condition for the threesome to happen at all seems to be that they're going to give the ol' godslaying another game try sooner rather than later. (I get the sense that it's not so much that he disagrees with her ultimate goal so much as that he thinks she's being dangerously indiscreet and hasty going about it, before. “though I think it will be the death of us,” huh.)

notice how he's structuring the whole thing: he's invoking the intimacy and love in their strange little threeway relationship and how long it's been by truly playing along with john's 'we're a happy family really when we're at home! :)' delusion (helped along by lowered inhibitions via enormous amounts of alcohol and what I've previously described as a joint mercy/augustine leyendecker themed thirst trap. ah, a classic). he brings up alecto and what happened to her -- or rather, he is clever enough to make john bring up alecto and how she is totally dead, right?? by seeming to make a careless statement that leads there and then acting contrite about it after. he (helped along by mercy, who I think realizes exactly what he's doing -- this is very much a two-man con) brings up how much they all loved their cavaliers, and wow funny how that's been haunting us for ten thousand years now huh :) wow, a lot of our other lyctor friends slash family sure are super dead in the name of some unknowable greater reason neither of us quite grasp and that you won't fucking tell us, aren't they. these are all the main grievances he and mercy confront john about at the end of the book, but put forth much more subtly and not phrased as an accusation -- he's baring his and mercy's vulnerabilities as bait, essentially. if john had, say, a conscience where his conscience should be instead of a black hole, it probably should have stirred something in him.

(also let me just say... the way augustine just takes a pneumatic drill to the TWO tender spots g1deon seems to have and then has the audacity to be like 'oh dear. did that upset him. ooof my bad *loooong dead-eyed slurp of his wine*' is just sooo... he's such a bitch!!! he's the only person who could ever have held their own in a ten-thousand-year bitch-off with mercy and I love him so much. well even if it wasn't all to get g1deon into murder range for harrow I think he wouldn't enjoy sticking around for the 'getting our tongues on god' part of the evening so maybe it's a kindness, really, and totally not pent-up aggression from the last twenty years or so breaking through)

he is all but shaking john by the lapels begging him to just... come clean about it already, to stop thinking he's still kidding everyone else along with himself. it's clear throughout the book that augustine knows exactly what john is at this point -- and all of the most cynical things he does say about it turn out to be distressingly right. john is always less sentimental than you'd think. john wouldn't forgive mercy, he will abandon in a heartbeat anything that isn’t necessary to him anymore, whether emotionally or in some other way. and still he seems to hold out some desperate absurd hope that the man he wants, the man he thought was there, is in there, somewhere deep deep down, if he just gives him the chance to show himself.

(mercy definitely has her own side of this whole thing, I'm just focusing more on augustine because this evening was like. his idea in the first place and I feel like we can Read Some Things into that fact lol. now that we have both ntn and htn to go from I sort of have this sense that the things augustine wants from john are more... personal? more interpersonal? they both love him equally, but mercy's love seems tinged slightly more towards the religious (augustine accuses her of knowing 'only worship without adoration', which like... also the eight house's entire Vibe lol) -- mercy at the end of that book is totally a person breaking up with GOD, not just with john -- while augustine's vibe is more like a man in the last not-with-a-bang-but-a-whimper days of a marriage that sort of felt like it could have been something real and good once but all your illusions about it have since been taken from you and trampled underfoot into the mud and you've had the divorce papers signed and ready in a drawer for over a year now, hell, as it turns out, is other people etc. lmao)

having a threesome over the dinner table with god is one thing, having a threesome over the dinner table centered on the one man and god who has yet again let you down in a way so fundamental it can barely fit into words and who you both still love in a way anyway, miserably, and also just reaffirmed your joint resolution to murder (all under the pretense that it gives your baby sisters the chance to murder your brother of ten thousand years yeah that's why this is happening no other underlying aching emotional motivations here haha)... listen mercy and augustine are simply on a different level, theologically. they've added horny shrimp colours to the religious spectrum. who else does it like them

#the locked tomb #harrow the ninth #augustine the first #mercymorn the first #john gaius #dios apate minor #bad cop worse cop and sorry cop #augustine 'when I die I want john to lower my casket #not so he can let me down one last time that's honestly a given at this point #if at all possible I just want to pull him down into the grave with me' quinque #first saint to serve the king undying #nona the ninth spoilers #nominally? in that I am saying there's relevant information to this polycule clusterfuck in it? eh let's just be safe lol #just when you thought I had no more thoughts about the terrible old people to unleash upon you... here I am again hahaha #the locked tomb meta #also yeah I mean I guess they didn't actually have to get their tongues on god on-page for all this to still be true #but I'm glad they did let them have some lyctor enrichment #hate fucking is actually lyctor love language hashtag did u kno

[vashtijoy]

on forgiveness: best girl haru okumura

OKAY LET’S TALK ABOUT how most people’s idea of Haru (besides her being axe crazy or some shit) begins and ends with the first half of this line to Akechi. And also babble about how everyone reacts in the engine room for a bit:

Just to be clear here: Akechi murders Haru’s father. Not only that, he murders him after his change of heart, at the point he has a chance to turn around and do better and stop being, y’know, kind of a tremendous asshole. Would it have worked? Haru will never know. Akechi stole that from her.

However. Haru is also not a tremendous asshole. I know, I know, y’all want her to go crazy ape batshit with vengeance and her axe. However, Haru doesn’t believe in vengeance (that’s Akechi’s gig, and maybe Ann’s). She does believe in redemption and giving people chances, and she (besides Joker, who like, doesn’t have lines) is the Phantom Thief who embodies this most in regard to Akechi.

so let’s take a look

Let’s start with the second half of that line. “I sympathize with you”. And let’s put it together with the next line:

Haru understands why Akechi might have acted as he did. And when Cognitive Akechi arrives, she’s the one who tells Akechi it isn’t too late:

Because, make no mistake, Haru is also a child of a terrible father. A father who used her to advance himself. Haru relates to Akechi. She sees what she could have become in him—someone just like her father.

This becomes clearer later on in the scene, when the bulkhead door comes up—and let’s just take a moment here to see what “unforgivable” looks like.

Here’s Ryuji banging on the door as it comes up:

Here’s Yusuke:

And Makoto:

Now note that Haru and Futaba (and Morgana and Ann) have not come forward at this point. But what’s Akechi’s response, by the way, when you tell him you’ll hang on to the glove and keep your promise?

He fucking smiles. Tiny little smile. Sad, barely there, but a real smile, behind the bulkhead where nobody can see it. I swear, people are like “oh, he only dies to save you because it’s the only way left he can get revenge, it’s all part of the manipulation” no, get out of my hair with that shit, I will literally eat you all. He passes up his revenge. He starts his arc as someone who has nothing but revenge to live for, and he ends it (for now) passing up that revenge for someone who matters to him. That’s important.

And that’s level 10: incidentally this is when he gets Endure, “survive an otherwise fatal attack with 1hp remaining”

After this Cogkechi and Akechi face off, and that is when Haru comes forward:

And Ann:

... and then the gunshots, not quite in unison. Bye, kids, we’ll miss you. But note that it is Futaba who only speaks up now—to do her job, not to express any concern for Akechi. It’s Futaba who gives him a far harder ride in Mementos later in the third semester than Haru does. And yet I feel like I see Futaba easily forgiving Akechi all the time and Haru almost not at all?? idk.

so what happens next?

Well, here’s Haru when they resolve to leave:

She’s sad they couldn’t save him. Like her father, Akechi will never have a chance to do better.

what about the third semester?

So in the third semester Akechi comes out as an axe crazy killer and also kind of an interpersonal asshole, but he does seem to have laid off the hired killings, so that’s, uh, good?

This understandably impacts the way the engine room fell out: nobody wants to admit what went on there. Akechi doesn’t; Akechi wants to keep all of them at an emotional radius of ten thousand kilometres, for reasons of his own. The PTs certainly don’t, because third semester Akechi is an immense pain in the ass. and about as friendly as a porcupine on PCP.

Still, he comes back on the team for reasons, and Haru and Futaba understandably have feelings about this. Here are Haru’s:

But this isn’t all that goes on. What about all those Mementos chats?

Akechi doesn’t talk to the other Phantom Thieves—if they say anything, he doesn’t respond. (Sumire also doesn’t, which gives me an image of her, Akechi and Joker stuck next to each other speaking only in Royal Trio in-jokes.) But he’s not saying anything unless he chooses to say something—when the others respond.

And who responds how? Well, there are moments of connection—more than a few. But responses to Akechi often range from passive-aggressive through mocking to outright aggressive. And this is perfectly fair: make no mistake, these guys are not friends.

How does the count stack up?

Yusuke has the lowest number of responses to Akechi—he has five. Ann and Makoto each have seven. Futaba, Morgana and Ryuji each have eight. And Haru?

Haru has nine chats in response to Akechi. She has more than anyone else. And the reason she has more chats than anyone else is that there is one chat that only she responds to:

Yeah. Akechi is not someone who enjoys being cooped up in the back of a catbus. And when he complains about it, it’s Haru who’s the only one to reply. The Japanese is not that patronising, by the way

Haru is trying. She doesn’t want to sit down and hang out with him—she won’t join him in the Thieves’ Den, for instance. But her responses to him range from passive-aggressive through conversational. They are hard to interpret—she’s not comfortable with him; she’s keeping up her mask. She’s not necessarily concerned for him or welcoming—she’s saying the “right things”, making conversation; she joins in when they all laugh at him for bouldering. Haru’s mask has a lot in common with Akechi’s many masks. But she also has that one chat that only she replies to.

Here are her nine responses to various things Akechi says:

Haru: I think this [outfit] fits you better, after seeing how you fight. Haru: I've heard you don't actually need to be that strong to boulder. Maybe I should give it a shot. Haru: It's pretty hard to imagine a group of phantom thieves successfully getting around on bicycles. Haru: Well, the car does have ears and a tail, so I wouldn't say it's impossible to tell... Haru: Well, no one gives them orders, so it appears they just wander around. Haru: As long as you're fighting alongside us, we're happy to have you. Haru: Thanks for the concern. You should stay mindful of your health, too. Haru: I wonder... You can't underestimate the Tokyo subway system, though. It's pretty long. Haru: Then what say we take a little break when we reach the next rest area?

and what’s the takeaway here?

Pretty much this: forgiveness in P5 is complicated. The story is all about responsibility and redemption and the harm you do others. Even if you can’t forgive someone, that doesn’t mean you can’t work with them. It doesn’t make them not part of your group. It doesn’t mean you can’t take an interest in them. The Phantom Thieves have a bond with Akechi regardless of what he’s done. Regardless of whether they’re “friends” or “forgiven” or whether they will ever be close. That bond doesn’t have to be pretty, or fun, or even something most of them want too much to do with, but it is there. He is, in the end, as close to being one of them as you get.

And Haru does take an interest in Akechi: more than any of the others bar Joker, Haru is the one who seems to relate to him. Haru doesn’t model judgement (that’s Futaba)—Haru is modelling understanding, and reparative justice. She doesn’t want to be Akechi’s friend; they’re hugely unlikely to ever be friends. Any relationship they have is likely to be distant, based primarily on mutual obligation. But she understands him, to a degree.

Let Haru be the wonderful human being she is. #theend

#persona 5 #haru okumura #goro akechi #p5 meta #engine room #the squad #okumura haru #akechi goro

[bg-brainrot]

Hugs for a Vampire (Astarion x GN!Reader) - Chapter 14: After Defeating Cazador

Chapter 14: After Defeating Cazador

Each chapter can be read as a standalone hug.

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Rogue!Tav)

Genre: Fluffy, Filling in Canon

Rating: Teen

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Act 3, Canon-typical violence, Astarion's coping mechanisms, Astarion's quest, cw: Astarion's trauma

WC: 3.1k words, 14/18 chapters

Summary: Set in Act 3, the conclusion of the Pale Elf questline, Rogue!Tav needs to find just the right moment to support Astarion.

Author's Note: Bringing over my same note from AO3, since this was the chapter, the one that inspired this series all the way back in September.

I, like many, wanted to just jump in and give Astarion a hug. But as someone who relates all too deeply to Astarion, I felt like it was his time to just let it all out. And when a wound is that raw? To me, it’s all about timing. Naturally a disclaimer that everyone heals differently, wants different things, and this is colored a lot by my own experiences/attitudes! I just wanted to explain a bit of my reasoning behind this hug.

Ao3 | [Hug13][Hug15] | Hugs for a Vampire Masterlist

You’ve all but done it. One more well-placed dagger and your team has defeated a vampire lord in his own lair, his cruel ritual stopped in its diabolical tracks.

Or at least you hope it’s been stopped. Astarion is looking at you, eyes pleading with you in a desperate frenzy you've not seen before. “I can do this, but I need your help.”

“Astarion,” you start, his name nearly choking you. You’re not a paragon of good or a champion of righteousness. You’re just another Baldurian rogue who got caught up in this tangled mess of mind flayers and gods. So you weren’t lying when you told your lover you would consider this. You’ve thought long and hard about this, you’ve lost sleep over this, and, ultimately, you know you cannot let him go through with this. “If I help you complete this ritual, these people will all die.”

“These people died years ago, trust me on that,” he says dismissively, as if these lives are just a few gold pieces at the bottom of a stolen pouch. “All that’s left are feral spawn, desperate for blood.”

However, you see these words for the truth of them: he sees himself in these spawn. He hates that he sees himself. When you respond, you can barely hear your own voice through the pounding in your ears, the panic coursing through you. “They don’t need to be desperate nor feral if they’re given a means of survival. They just want to live, like you do.”

Astarion bristles at that, and his next words come out angry, “And if we release them, how many people will they kill? Tens of thousands? Hundreds of thousands?” 

His questions aren’t meant to be answered, you know that much– He’s justifying his actions, to you and to himself. That doesn’t stop you from answering his line of rhetorical questioning, “You don’t know what they will do, none of us do.”

Your words fall on deaf ears, as his mouth catches up to the arguments he has readily prepared for your hesitation. “If they die and I ascend, I won’t have to rely on the parasite to walk in the sun. I’ll be free – truly, completely free.” Astarion sounds so blissful, on his tongue is a taste of that ephemeral happiness that he’s been so fervently chasing. It tugs at your heartstrings, plucking at them expertly in a way that only a master manipulator like him can. “Isn’t that what you want?” His tone challenges you to deny his happiness, and clarity hits you like a ton of bricks.

He’s reverted back to his old, guarded self. He’s the Astarion you met on a ravaged beach, the man who wanted to leave an entire grove of tieflings for dead to save himself, who tried to seduce you for protection. And you’re not about to let this moment reshape him into someone you know he isn’t. Not truly.

You look into Astarion’s eyes, those ruby pools that have drawn you in so very many times over the last few months. Over your travels, you’ve caught his eyes many times, read his worries, felt his love. These are the eyes you know most intimately, deeply– and as your own eyes dart between them, you see him as genuinely as you ever will.

You see fear, of course– it’s what’s driven him here, it’s as much as he said when you faced Petras. He wants a way to keep himself and you safe. But beyond that you see a ravenous hunger, more than any thirst for blood or craving for gold. That hunger, born of blood, of power, of freedom, is clouding everything else. It’s up to you to dissipate those clouds.

“I know you think this will set you free,” you start, delivering each word deliberately. “But it won’t. It will only trap you. Just like it trapped Cazador.” As if to prove your point, you turn to the pathetic mess of a man on the floor.

Some vampire lord he is now, groveling in front of Astarion, realizing that his poisoned words have done nothing to change his “favorite” spawn’s mind. His body has already been beaten, his face bloodied, his elegant clothing torn to shreds. And his utterly pitiful, earthly appearance says more than words ever could.

Astarion looks down upon his former master, considering your words. You see his eyes glint with steel as he turns back to you, and you hold your breath as you wait for his response.

“You… you’re right. I can be better than him,” he says, and your heart clenches in sheer relief. Turning back to Cazador with his signature wicked smirk, he continues, “But I'm not above enjoying this.”

You watch as your friend, your companion, your lover repeatedly drives Cazador’s own twisted blade against him. Each stab is punctuated by a wrenching, guttural cry, Astarion’s face contorted with a rage even the hells would fear. Cazador’s body grows limp, and Astarion continues to stab. You lose count of how many expertly executed stabs he delivers, but you can’t bring yourself to look away. You need to watch, to witness his blood-stained hands grant his own deliverance.

Releasing one final world-rending scream, he pulls the blade out, stumbling back. You know he’s done, in every sense of the word. Head turned up to the heavens, to the very gods who have never heard his pleas, he cries out– a heart-wrenching scream, mixed with a heavy sob– before his body collapses to the ground.

Your body instinctively moves toward him, your heart screaming to help him, to hold him, to be there for him. But a warm hand clamps on your shoulder and you look back. Karlach’s fiery yellow eyes lock with yours and she silently shakes her head at you. No, soldier, her eyes say. He needs this.

And despite your heart’s protestations, despite your eyes welling with burning hot tears, your head agrees. So you wait.

Astarion’s body trembles, a slow heaving wracking his frame. Sobs build up and burst out in a series of cries, each more painful than the last. Tears stream down your own face as you feel his visceral pain, but you stay back. And even as his cries petter out, you don’t step forward. It’s not your moment to have, there will be time for you to hold him, to cry with him, but not now.

Before that moment can arrive, the spawn around you are released from their magic bindings, Cazador’s hold on them finally worn off. Despite their predicament, they seem no worse for wear. Sweaty, tired, half-naked, but whole. Above all else, they seem… confused. They’re almost too scared to approach the hunched, blood-soaked man kneeling before their former master, but Dal takes the initiative.

“Is… is it over?” she asks, tentatively. “Is he…?”

Astarion takes a few shuddering breaths before collecting himself, rising to his feet slowly. “Yes,” he says, voice thick with lingering tears. “He’s gone.”

Petras looks about with uncertainty. For the first time in decades, he’s expected to think for himself and it’s clearly going to be an adjustment. Concerned, he asks, “What does that mean for us?”

You stand there, watching your lover. So many emotions run through you that you can’t even catch them all. Sorrow, concern, but most of all: Pride. He’s free now, to do whatever he wants, to be whomever he wants. And as his siblings look to him for leadership, he faces them head-on. A lump forms in your throat as you wait for his answer. 

“It means you have a choice,” he says, staring at Petras squarely. “You can hide here, living in the shadows like parasites. Or you can be more than what he made us to be.” Astarion’s voice lightens at the end, his preference clear in his tone. His entire demeanor shifts back to his usual, poised self and he stands a bit straighter, as if he’s making the decision for himself as he speaks. “You can choose differently, of course. But the consequences are on your head.”

Dal looks beyond him, up to the cells where the rest of the spawn sit trapped. “And… what does it mean for them?”

“Ah, now that is a question,” Astarion says, looking down at Cazador’s winding, red staff. He contemplates openly, and you know it’s alright to provide another small push.

“Let’s release them,” you say, clearing your throat a bit as you swallow your last tears. “They deserve the same chance you got.”

“You’re right,” he says, with a nod. Another wave of relief washes over you, as he doesn’t even hesitate to agree this time. “The poor wretches in the cells are innocent. They shouldn’t have to suffer just because I… lured them here.” You merely nod back– you wish you could say that his actions weren’t his own, that he needn’t feel the guilt any more, but you know that’s beyond this moment. That he will need to sit with the events of the day for a while, and that you shall sit there with him as long as he needs.

Astarion grabs Cazador’s staff, inspecting it for a moment before striking it into the ground in one powerful movement. A red, pulsing light emanates from it, filling the room with an eerie glow before you all hear the loud ka-thunk of the cell doors releasing their prisoners. 

You all turn in unison to look, before Astarion speaks to his siblings, “They’ll need someone to lead them. Take the tunnels into the Underdark, find somewhere… well, not safe. But less perilous?”

“What? No, we can’t–” Petras protests immediately.

Astarion raises a bloody hand to stop him. “Just try to keep them out of trouble.”

Dalyria, taking charge in the face of her sibling’s flustered looks, nods and ushers the rest of the spawn toward the cells, the 7,000 newly-released waiting for them. You watch them leave in a solemn silence.

After they’ve climbed the stairs and carried on, leaving your field of vision, Astarion turns back to your small party. “I… I think we’re done here.” he says, setting his face into a hard expression. “Let’s go.”

Your group turns away, allowing Astarion a moment of privacy to put his armor back on, to wipe some of the blood off his hands, to collect himself. 

As he rejoins your party, your companions perk up, sensing their opportunity to provide their support. Karlach claps him on the back softly, looking at him with pure admiration on her face. “Good work, Astarion.” 

He shies away from her, a bit of embarrassment coloring the tips of his ears. “Thank you, I suppose.”

Shadowheart nods to him in approval. “You did the right thing, Astarion. Some sacrifices aren’t worth it,” she says. Her own silver hair is a testament to her words.

Astarion, knowing her place of understanding, nods back wordlessly. It’s the most they will get from him for now, and they set off to lead your path out of this decrepit place.

As you begin to walk, you turn to your lover, still wanting to offer him a modicum of comfort, to embrace him and tell him it will all be alright. But his expression is vacant. When you nudge him gently he only says, “That’s it. He’s… he’s gone.”

You remain silent, waiting for him to continue.

“After all these years– these centuries– it’s really over.” The awe in his voice is unmistakable. But more so, the uncertainty, similar to Petras’ own, has settled in. Now that he's back, safe with you and your group, his vulnerability is peaking through.

“How do you feel?” you ask, broaching the subject that’s been worrying you the most.

“I’m… I’m not sure,” he says, honestly. “I feel a little numb.”

An entirely reasonable reaction, albeit not one that you can fix. But you don’t need to fix it, just listen for now. You nod, encouraging him to continue.

“What I’ve lost,” he sounds wistful, but looks sideways at you with a small smile. “What I’ve gained. It’s all so much.”

You smile at him, appreciating that even in this moment, he sees you, he weighs you against all that he’s lost and he smiles. “It’s a lot to take in,” you agree. “Even under the best of circumstances.”

“And gods. All those spawn. Free in the Underdark,” he breathes out and looks ahead at where those spawn are inevitably fleeing Cazador’s lair. “I need some time, I think. Just to let it all sink in.”

As much as you want to hold him, to tell him how proud you are of him, to crush him under your weight for days on end just to make sure he’s here, he’s safe, he’s still himself– you know it still isn’t the right moment. So you just say, “Take all of the time that you need, my love. I’ll be here, you know I will.”

Looking into his eyes, you see the weary gaze of a man whose entire existence was just up-ended. His eyes are still rimmed with red from his tears, and you see more moisture gathering as he turns away. “L-let’s just go.” He continues walking forward, picking up his pace. “This place reeks of death and I want to feel alive again.”

With nothing left to say, you follow him and your companions up and out of the yawning pit of Cazador’s dungeons.

The entire walk, Astarion’s shoulders remain tense, his face guarded and closed off from the world, from you. It’s still not time, you think. 

Before you make your escape, you encounter the Gur once more. You talk to them as you reach the rising platform, and, while he vehemently defends his choices, Astarion still seems so very reserved. In the back of your head, you can’t help but feel like you haven’t done enough. That perhaps the time was right at some point, but you missed your moment to comfort him, to be there for him. Either way, it’s not right now.

You all pile on to the elevator, leaving the bloody mess of Cazador, of Vellioth before him, to be swallowed by the earth. Walking through the mansion’s halls, Astarion remains quiet. You periodically check to make sure he’s still there, but of course he is– he makes his own choices now and he wants to be here. He’s just deeply in thought, beyond you for now. You must wait for him.

The group passes barren walls, each of Cazador’s tacky paintings stolen hours ago– by a much cheerier band of adventurers, you can’t help but think. But you wouldn’t trade places with your past selves for anything, because this group is still together, still has their souls intact. This group will get through this and live to steal many, many more paintings from evil wretches like Cazador. 

After following your own path back to the entrance, you can sense Astarion’s unease building, his body fighting an unseen battle. Turning to look at him, you see that he’s not looking back, not looking forward, rather staring down at the ground ahead of him. 

You hang back, wondering what’s the matter but, before you can ask, he offers, “I hate this place. So why does it feel like my feet are made of lead?”

A hard heartbeat pounds your chest. You don’t know how to respond, or if it’s even your place to do that. Instead you pose a question back, “Do you want me to stay behind with you for a moment?”

He shakes his head harshly. “No,” the word comes out softly, despite the grimace on his face. “I’m just… frustrated. He’s gone, but it’s like I still feel his claws on me.”

Karlach and Shadowheart pause ahead, at the door you entered through on the battlements. “Soldier?” Karlach calls, raising a single eyebrow at you. One of her hands is placed on the doorknob, a simple turn away from the outdoors. 

Ah, that might help, you think. “Could you open the door? It’s rather dark in here, it would be nice to illuminate a path for Astarion.”

The large tiefling woman complies with a grunt, swinging the door open at a brutal force. If you weren’t so focused on Astarion’s face, you might have laughed at her eager show of help. As it is, your eyes are trained on the vampire’s face, reading each line carefully as the door opens. 

Daylight streams in, cutting through the musty halls of Szarr Palace, illuminating the dancing dust particles in the air. Astarion’s head cranes up, away from the ancient carpet he’d been fixated on a moment before. Like he’s been jolted from an uncomfortable slumber, he shakes his stupor off, placing one foot in front of another until he’s crossed the threshold of the place he’d perversely called home for two centuries. 

Something about the way he stands strong, the way his chest puffs out, reignites the pride that wells within you. You follow behind him closely, as if you might protect him from the darkness he’s leaving behind. 

It’s when he’s well and truly in the sunlight outside that you see the markings of the day on him, in blood smeared across his face, the tired creases of his eyes. Infiltrating the palace, finding the 7,000 spawn, facing his tormentor– all of it catches up to him now that he’s left the cold grip of Cazador’s clutches. 

Astarion’s shoulders slump, his eyes close, and his head tilts up to the warmth of the sun, as he takes a deep inhale of the fresh air. Like a cat basking in the glorious remnants of daylight through a window, he looks to remain until there’s not even a sliver of light left.

You turn to Karlach and Shadowheart, who are looking on with unsure expressions. Waving a hand out at them, you signal that you’ll meet them downstairs. They slip away wordlessly, leaving you and Astarion alone, perched atop of the battlements of Baldur’s Gate.

No words pass between you when he finally opens his eyes. They’re even more crimson in the sunlight, and the emotions swimming in them are inscrutable. One thing is for certain though, now is your chance to hold him, to comfort him.

You hold your arms out to him, an open invitation. Astarion looks at them then looks up at you, eyes brimming with fresh new tears. He shuts his eyes closed once more, hot streaks silently running down his face, and steps into your welcoming embrace. Warmth, release, relief– his feelings are your own, as you hold each other. And so, feeling the weight of the decisions you’ve made that day, in the very sunlight he’s given up, you cry in each other's arms.

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x reader #rogue + rogue #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion fluff #astarion masterlist #hugs for a vampire #hfav #gn reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion baldurs gate #bg3 astarion

[rise-my-angel]

"People wouldn't have cared if Dany and Jon married as aunt and nephew. The Targaryeans did it for 300 years and no one complained."

Correction: The smallfolk were not allowed to complain because they were all under forced subjugation to a ruling power with atomic weapons with wings who did not hesitate to burn people and cities alive. The highlords did not want to object because the Targaryeans were the ruling power with atomic weapons with wings who did not hesitate to burn their enemies alive, and making your entire house an enemy to them was a death sentence. The faith litterly did object it, and were forced to sign the doctrine of exceptionalism which only granted it to the Targaryeans because they were the ruling power with atomic weapons with wings who did not hesitate to burn alive those who opposed their blood purity practices.

As soon as they were gone, the entire realm returned back to seeing incest as an unforgivably disgusting sin and any children born from it were considered abominations to the point a brother and sister having children together in the highest orders of the royal family was the catalyst for kickstarting a multi year war which killed tens of thousands.

Literally the only person who wouldn't oppose that marriage would be Dany, because she was raised to think her families incest was normal and also knows she could force Jon to be loyal to her all powerful rule because she has atomic weapons with wings who does not hesitate to burn her enemies alive.

Also all of this is moot anyways, because just say you are against Northern Independence and get on with it. Because that's what marrying Dany would do, destroy Northern Independence since now if they step out of line ever again, Dany would burn Jon alive to scare the remaining Starks and Northeners not to step against her again.

Jon sacrificed everything to save his people, Dany did nothing and yall want to force Jon to give up literally every single freedom hes just acquired for the first time in his life.

Almost like the story is about how demanding people to bend the knee is the corrupting power which only ever breeds more corruption and dissent, and is a system of total control which is not good or sustainable.

It's almost like Dany doesn't actually want to break the wheel if it means she cannot be the one, all powerful Queen with her dragon nukes and is really just using Jon as hostage and a pawn against his will.

Also shes his aunt. Stop it.

#game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #jon snow #anti daenerys targaryen #anti jonerys #anti jonerys stans #anti dany stans #anti targaryen #anti targ stans #anti targ restoration

[early20sfailingplenty]

A while ago, you wrote Lester with a vampire s/o, and I was wondering if I can request something where he (and bros) find out she’s a siren? Maybe like, when she’s in her human form, she’s like, a regular girl, but when she’s in her siren form (which happens when she becomes wet), she has the typical abilities of a siren?

Lester would think it's the coolest thing ever! He's the kind of guy who finds out you can draw and unthinkingly asks if you can draw him! He means it with genuine encouragement, and it's only after you wince and seem to withdraw a little from him that he realises that perhaps he's being a little bit pressuring towards you and your skills.

Similarly, when he finds out that you transform into a siren when your skin becomes wet, Lester immediately wants to see!

"C'mon, darlin', c'n y'show me?" He's grinning, having only ever heard of sirens on TV and from those books which Bo used to read to him when the three brothers huddled up into one person's bed to comfort one another when their parents were fighting.

If you indulge him and transform, he wants to see you show off your skills - what can you do? It's very genuine, very supportive, with Lester whooping and hollering even if all you did was flick your tail as you come up for air - whether you need it or not, the mythology surrounding sirens can be contrary at times. If you don't, Lester ain't too bothered - he'll see it sooner or later. Sooner, he hopes, he's excited!He didn't know you could do this and he wants to see!!! He knows how to be patient and in the end, time tells all.

If it's possible, Lester falls even more in love with you, and in the back of his mind he's working out ways to use this to his advantage - sirens lure sailors, he lures canvases to Ambrose... yeah, this could be fun...

Bo scoffs when you tell him, he doesn't believe you, no matter how well you set up telling him, or even if he finds out because you transform.

You could be in the water in front of him, swishing your tail emphatically, and he would still bend down, squinting in concentration, trying to see how you're doing it. The call of the siren is irresistible, however, and the sweet haunting tones you emit from deep inside your throat would finally be what would convince him - he'd be powerless to resist even if he wanted to.

"You're real pretty, darlin', ain't never seen nothin' like it 'fore."

You should hope not, you silently bristle, but Bo's reverent gaze and calculative smirk as he mentally adjusts his killing routine to include you... it sends your tail curling - you might be the siren, but Bo is the honey trap, and you're both stuck.

Vincent, ironically, is the one least surprised. He always thought, in the privacy of his mind, that you were like a siren - how else had he been so immediately drawn to you, falling in love with you before he had even known your name? He had often sculpted sirens while thinking of you, you had an ethereal air about you. He had thought it an unexplainable facet of your personality - clearly, it wasn't.

He would sometimes ask you to sing to him; when his thoughts are too loud or he's angry or he just needs something to shut his mind down for a little bit. Your voice instantly sweeps him out to sea, like sailors in times gone by, and all Vincent can do is stand there and take it all in. You can lull him to sleep - he trusts you to protect him, though your true form is known the world over for causing the death of thousands.

How beautiful, then, that a man who has killed tens of people feels safe in the presence of one who has likely done the same. Truly, a match made in hell.

#slasher x reader #house of wax #house of wax 2005 #house of wax x reader #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader

[rahabs]

the fact that you would defend the israeli government after they’ve murdered 30,000 innocents in the largest bombing campaign in modern history is literally despicable and borderline evil. if a genocide documented ad nauseam cannot make you cognizant of israel’s colonial and deeply racist regime, then literally nothing can and you are beyond reasoning with. actually incredible how multiple history degrees have clearly taught you nothing about how a genocide works — or perhaps more concerningly, they have, and you simply don’t care because the victims are palestinian. the fact that you would use those very history degrees to excuse israel’s genocide of palestinians is deeply disturbing and indicative of the rancid hypocrisy within western academia. history will exonerate the indigenous palestinians, and it will be unkind to those like you who defended and cheered on their annihilation.

It‘s so amazing to me that you actually believe this, and that you‘ve so wholeheartedly swallowed the propaganda Hamas (known for using their own civilians as human shields, known for paying their citizens extra for killing Jews) has been peddling. So I am going to paste here some points others have already made that I‘ve saved over the course of information-gathering, though I doubt you‘ll bother to read or learn, judging from your asinine little comments here.

1) Palestine Gaza is a genocidal nation. The goal of the Palestinian government in Gaza is literally to destroy and commit genocide against Israel and kill every Jew by every means possible. This is literally written in their founding charter. "The Day of Judgement will not come about until Moslems fight the Jews (killing the Jews), when the Jew will hide behind stones and trees. The stones and trees will say O Moslems, O Abdulla, there is a Jew behind me, come and kill him. Only the Gharkad tree, (evidently a certain kind of tree) would not do that because it is one of the trees of the Jews." There is no solution for the Palestinian question except through Jihad. Initiatives, proposals and international conferences are all a waste of time and vain endeavors. The Palestinian people know better than to consent to having their future, rights and fate toyed with.

2) Palestine is an apartheid nation that has ethnically cleansed 100% of their Jews and stole their territory after 1948. There used to be tens of thousands of Jews living in the areas of Judea and Samaria, which was renamed to the West Bank by Jordan. However they've all been ethnically after the 1948 Arab-Israeli war and 0 Jews are allowed to live in Palestine today. 3) Palestine is an authoritarian dictatorship both in Gaza and the West Bank. Hamas won majority of the votes during an election in 2006, but the Palestinian president simply refused to recognize the results of the election and refused to hand power over to them. This resulted in Hamas siezing power in Gaza, executing hundreds of their political rivals, and they never held another election. Likewise, the leadership in the West Bank also refused to hold any elections and still continue to illegitimately cling to power. Abbas, the president of Palestine had a 4 year term which was supposed to end in 2009. He's still the leader today and has continued to postpone election after election. 4) Palestine supports the outright open murder of innocent civilians. I've already mentioned the charter of the Palestinian government in Gaza above where their goal is to eradicate Israel and genocide Israelis, but the Palestinian government in West Bank is just as horrible. There's the Palestinian Authority Matry Fund where they literally pay a salary / pension to any Palestinians who commmit terrorist attacks against Israelis, be it through stabbings, shootings or suicide bombings, and they've paid out billions so far. The Foundation for the Care of the Families of Martyrs pays monthly cash stipends to the families of Palestinians killed, injured, or imprisoned while carrying out violence against Israel.

5) Palestine is horribly corrupt oligarchy. Palestine receives billions from the USA and Europe in aid every single year. Whatever money isn't spent on paying literal terrorists, or on rockets to shoot at Israel ends up going to corrupt Palestinian leaders. Yasser Arafat, the first Palestinian leader, died a billionaire. Abbas the current President is worth $100 million. The Palestinian leaders in Gaza, Ismail Haniyeh, Moussa Abu Marzuk and Khaled Mashal have an estimated combined wealth of over $10 billion. Meanwhile the combined GDP of Gaza is only about $2.5 billion, meaning these 3 leaders wealth is equal to 4 years of Gaza's GDP. 6) Palestinians have caused wars and instability in every country that they've sought refuge in. In Jordan, Palestinains assasinated the Jordanian king in 1951, then attempted a coup of a the country in 1970. After they failed, they were expelled to Lebanon where they started a civil war with the Christian Maronites. This war lasted 15 years and killed several times more people than the entire Israel-Palestine war (150k died in Lebanon civil war vs 25k in Palestinian-Israeli wars). In Kuwait, the Palestinians supported Saddam as Iraq invaded Kuwait. In Egypt, they've been hit by several bombings by Palestinians. 7) There is no freedom of speech or equality in Palestine Gaza. No equality of sexes, no equality of races, and definitely no queer rights in the entirety of Palestine where you could be killed for the crime of being openly queer. [If you identify as a liberal, there is literally] no reason to support a country where majority of [your] friends would either have severely restricted rights, be treated like objects, or be thrown off a building just for existing.

Let me reiterate: Jews are indigenous to Israel. Jews have existed and lived in what we now call the Israel-Palestine region for thousands of years before the foundation of Islam, and even before the foundation of Christianity. In the game of “which Abrahamic religion came first?” Islam ranks dead last.

Israel as an identity as a people has existed for thousands of years and has been recorded as far back as the Iron Age on:

i) The Mesha Stele;

ii) The Tel Dan Stele;

iii) The Kurkh Monoliths; and (potentially)

iv) The Merneptah Stele.

While scholars have argued over the translations on the Merneptah Stele, the general consensus among historians, classicists, archaeologist, etc, is that it refers to the existence of Israel at the very least as a collective identity that existed at the time, and was called Israel.

They were eventually repeatedly forced out by other powers such as the Romans and many others, but that doesn’t change the fact that Jews had a continuous existence in Israel before being forced out by what people like you would normally call “colonising powers” were it not so contrary to your own ill-supported arguments. It also doesn’t change the fact that Jews, and Israel, existed before both Christianity and Islam, and long, long before Palestine.

So if your entire argument boils down to "who was here first" and the ideas of "colonialism" and "anti-colonialism" and "decolonisation", then I am telling you, Jews were there first. You could argue Canaanite groups like Moabites and Ammonites were there too, but Moabites and Ammonites don't exist as a continuous group anymore. No matter how you look at it, you are wrong, so let me parrot your horrible argument right back at you:

The fact that you would defend Hamas, a known organisation whose founding Charter literally calls for the annihilation of Jews, who have systematically purged Jews for years, who launched multiple attacks against innocent Jewish people (the music festival, the babies and the woman and the children slaughtered), the fact that there's a Palestinian Authority Matry Fund where they literally pay a salary / pension to any Palestinians who commit terrorist attacks against Israelis, be it through stabbings, shootings or suicide bombings, and they've paid out billions so far; the fact that you defend the existence of the Foundation for the Care of the Families of Martyrs which pays monthly cash stipends to the families of Palestinians killed, injured, or imprisoned while carrying out violence against Israel, etc... that you would defend this is "literally despicable" and not only outright evil, but ignorant to the nth degree.

If the continuous genocidal nature of Hamas against Israel cannot make you cognizant of Hamas' deeply racist, violence, and terrorist regime (to the point where none of the Muslim countries around them will take Palestinians in; even their fellow Muslim countries want nothing to do with them), then I'm not sure what to tell you. You say I am beyond reasoning, but from where I'm standing, your head is so far up your own ass that I don't even know if you're aware of anything that isn't the smell of your own shit.

It's actually incredible to me how you can ignore what multiple historians and scholars are saying because you want to cling to your idea that Hamas are just a bunch of "poor innocent brown people" who need help from the "evil white Israeli regime". Or perhaps, more "concerningly," that is just it: you hate Israel because you erroneously perceive them as white, and so therefore they must be evil. I don't know, but that is what a lot of anti-Israel sentiment seems to boil down to in the world of people like you.

The fact that you would excuse and ignore Hamas' outright horrific acts and ignore history is deeply disturbing and indicative of the rancid hypocrisy within the west, but particularly within western circles that claim to be "progressive", "liberal", and "leftist."

Hamas has said no to every ceasefire. Hamas has said no to every compromise Israel has offered even before October. If Hamas stops fighting, the war ends. If Israel stops, then Israel is annihilated.

History has already shown that Palestinians are not indigenous if we are playing the "who was there first" game with Israel and Palestine, you're just so ignorant that you will refuse to see the evidence right in front of you. You are the one cheering for the annihilation of an indigenous group, and the one history will frown upon is you.

#antisemitism #Sorry for everyone on my dash who had to read this long reply. #I have sat on this for a month wondering whether to release it. Seriously grappling with everything. But. #Here we go. Will I delete it later? I am not sure. But. #There are too few people willing to speak up on this because they're scared of militant Palestinian supporters. #And truthfully I am scared of them! Militant Palestinian supporters are terrifying and my country has MANY #But this is my line in the sand. I so rarely draw them with political conflicts but this is it for me. #If you support Hamas you are DISGUSTING. #And you cannot divorce the fact that the vast majority of Palestinians have supported and do support Hamas. #People literally cheer for Hamas in the streets here and call for the annihilation of Israel. #Universities defend this shit too (see: the scandal with Penn State and Harvard) #I am so open politically I neither identify as right or left I so rarely truly put my foot down and say #'if you believe this you are disgusting' #But? Yeah. #And maybe I will have a mas exodus of followers now but whatever. #ancient Israel

[ele-sme]

There must be something i can do!

AU where Jake and Neytiri adopt Spider at a young age, Neytiri discovers something horrible.

This: "hi" I'm writing about the present.

This: "hi" flasbacks or writing about the past.

It was early morning, her kids were all sleeping. Each on top of the other, Spider her oldest was sleeping on top of Kiri. He was almost ten, Neytiri couldn't stay a day without thinking about the time she and Jake brought him home.

Kiri was born and meanwhile Neytiri was holding her new baby, another child came to her, he had curly blonde hair and he was crawling to get to her. As soon as he was ar her feet he sitted down, and started getting his arms up to get taken in her arms too.

"Ma Jake do you wanna old her?" Neytiri asked, almost without thinking. She knew she needed to pick up that baby.

"I'm already holding Neteyam" Jake responded but Neytiri passed Kiri equally, without even looking at her mate. She picked the demanding child in her arms. He immediately started to touch her face with his little hands. Neytiri didn’t like sky people, she hated them. But that baby. That was her baby, she felt it.

"We need to brought him home with us" She telled Jake, who looked at the human child too. "Yes" he responded, apparently he knew too, he had the same feeling.

Then Neytiri remembered all the times she was with her son, his first step,

"OO JAKE, MA JAKE LOOK HE IS WALKING!" Neytiri screamed to her mate who dropped the cooking to look at their child. Neytiri putted herself down and took the child into her arms.

His first climb to a tree,

"Be careful sweetheart" Neytiri said watching as her older son was getting on a big tree.

His first fall,

"Everything is all right mom, look im arrived" A five year old Spider yelled before falling down like a bag of potatoes. For his fortune Jake catched him, for his unfortunate he broken a rib and had to stay in the lab a entire month.

His first kill,

Spider maked a quick pray then he shoot with his bow, killing the animal.

And then Neytiri favourite moment of his life, the first time he holded his baby sister Tuk.

"Hi tuk, I'm Spider, I'm your older brother, I'm not the tallest and one day you will be taller then me but if I know one thing is that, I'm going to protect you forever and that I'm your best friend." He explained to that one hour baby, Tuk grabbed one of Spider little fingers with her tiny hand.

Neytiri was getting emotional only at the thought of those precious moments. She was would always cry at those important moments. Even now after years. Even now on Awa'atlu, Spider was almost seventeen years old but he still sleeped on top of Kiri, a year before she always complained but after almost a year without seeing him she was ready to have him sleep on her for the rest of their life.

Neytiri had one year, one precious year without her son, her baby. How has she lived? She wasn’t. It was only her shadow, her body going on for her other children but mentally she was destroyed, morning and night she prayed to Eywa to protect her son. And she hoped that those Demons did not have done something on her baby. They did, she understood that from the moment she saw her son again. From the anger she killed thousands of Demons in that Demons ship. Now luckily her family was again together. All of them.

Norm a dear friend of her family would have come in the late morning to check on her oldest.

She was taking a walk through the beach when they arrived, and quickly she and her mate were in the infirmary to see her son condition.

"This is annoying, do i really have to do this?" Spider asked and Norm rolled his eyes.

"Don't be stupid" Neytiri only respond watching as the older man visiting her son, who maked a annoyed sight.

"So?" Jake asked at the end of the visit

"Everything seems to be good" Norm responded. "Like i said" Spider responded and all three adults watched him with a bad eye, "Alright Alright i shut up"

"I'm not so sure about that, you for sure have another 78 years to live" Norm responded chuckling at his own joke.

Neytiri was confused by that joke, it wasn’t funny that what she was sure of, but those 78 years...

"78? Those are little years" she said and Norm without even looking to her said the most horrible thing Neytiri have ever heard in her life.

"Well he is human, humans live less then na’vi" Norm responded, he probably didn't remember that he was talking to the mother of that Human, but when he remember he quickly turned to see the woman, who was froze at what she heard.

"Jake?" She asked for her mate confirmation, he looked stunned too, like he remember something he was supposed to remember before.

"Humans do live less then na'vi" he said whispering.

Spider was now long go, he got away the second that Norm did the joke. And from a point of view that was great, Neytiri didn’t want her son to see her cry like a baby for a death that was so far away.

"We need to do something," she sobbed in Jake avatar "you need to create a fake body, like the one of my Jake" she yelled a Norm, desparation in her voice.

"Neytiri" Jake could only say, she knew that a body for her son couldn't exist.

"I can't outlive our baby" she said, her weeping is a pain other womans cried too that day.

#avatar spider #avatar 2 #jake sully #avatar fanfiction #miles spider socorro #neytiri #kiri #jake neytiri and spider 🥹 #spider sully #spider te suli tsyeyk'itan #tuktirey #lo'ak sully #norm spellman #reminder not native english #sully family

[pocketsizedquasar]

i want every single white piece of shit on that post calling people fascists or misguided or privileged or stupid for not voting for biden to look a palestinian person whose entire family got killed by biden in the eyes and tell them you think they should vote for biden. tell them you think they're privileged for not voting for biden. look them in the eyes and condescend to them about how much danger they clearly don’t know they’re in.

don't actually do that. don't actually ever speak to a fucking brown person lmao. eat shit actually.

i want every single one of you genocidal freaks to think for two seconds about why you think it's acceptable to tell brown people to vote for the man committing genocide on their fucking families. to tell disabled people to vote for the man committing eugenics based genocide on them at home via covid. (you do realize the largest amount of covid protection rollbacks occurred during biden's presidency right? you do realize a thousand people a week are CURRENTLY dying from covid?)

using the threat of our rights being taken away as a cudgel against Black and Brown and disabled ppl as if the biden admin hasn’t overseen more covid deaths than the trump admin, massive attacks on immigration rights (including the recent immigration proposal increasing mandatory detention and allowing mass deportations), massive attacks on reproductive rights (they knew abt roe v wade for WEEKS. we can bypass congress for genocide & for worsening immigration rights but we can't do anything about abortion?), as if we aren't looking at the current highest levels of homelessness since 2007. and all of that on top of the fact that joe shitstain biden is LITERALLY COMMITTING GENOCIDE.

the audacity. the absolute audacity. of this white bitch going ""vote for them: the most marginalized, the most vulnerable"" BIDEN IS KILLING "THEM." BIDEN IS KILLING US. How dare you speak for us? biden's complete rollback of covid protections have killed more people than trump. biden's admin has utterly abandoned disabled people to die. he is committing a eugenicist genocide against all disabled and immunocompromised people. he is committing a genocide against palestinians. the audacity to call those people "privileged" for refusing to enable THEIR OWN GENOCIDES.

"boohoo we have no choice but to vote for the genocidal fascist or else there'll be fascism!!!" you dumb fuckers we are already living in a fascist state. you don't care about stopping fascism. you don't care about stopping genocide. you care about fascism and genocide not hurting you. if spineless liberals and dems want so badly to beat trump they should put forward a candidate who hasn’t alienated the voter base that let them win the last time, not the candidate that barely won four years ago before reneging on his promises (student loans, environmentalism, etc), killing half a million people from covid, and killing 20,000+ more via colonial genocide.

to every dumbass in those notes going “uwu he isn’t perfect uwu he isn’t my first choice uwu we can't let ~disagreements~ get in the way uwu voting is like public transport <3 voting is like a group project”: ten thousand children are dead. ten thousand children are dead. ten thousand children are dead. biden killed ten thousand children. what the fuck is wrong with you.

i hope you all rot.

#quasartalks #us politics #politics #joe biden #palestine #israel #covid #covid19 #genocide #ableism #racism #jesus fucking christ this is infuriating. this is so fucking infuriating. #the sheer condescension and audacity of these white pieces of shit #i hope every single one of them is haunted for the rest of their lives by Every Single Person who died of covid during the past 4 years #by every single child that Biden and Israel murdered during the past 2 months #i have scarcely been this fucking furious in my life. #i hope you all rot. #i made this post like two days ago and then left it in my drafts for a bit but yeah i’m still just as furious lmao #how dare you tell a people being genocided to support the man doing it #this is rebloggable for now but if people clown i’m throwing hands

[sumiez]

so.. hear me out.. you know how kurt says he’s “all about love” on his stream? how about reader is almost as unhinged as he is, showing up to every stream and viewing every video. they understand and worship the lesson. now that he’s all about love reader is too and tries to get him to love them back

- n.e

paparazzi | kurt kunkle

warnings: typical spree stuff, obsessions, hit and runs, makeout sessions

a/n: first kurt request.. i hope i did him justice!! love the idea btw i love when readers are just as cuckoo as him

to call yourself obsessed with kurtsworld96 is a grave understatement. you weren't sure exactly how you discovered such an obscure influencer, it was likely youtube's algorithm being generous, but it was one of the best things to ever happen to you.

every video of his would receive a like from you. every stream would result in you two chatting about anything and everything before it inevitably ends with his mom calling him down for dinner. but that was the extent of your relationship—a fan and content creator.

you're enamoured with the idea of becoming his number one fan, his ride or die, his most loyal follower. every time he greets you on stream your heart soars.

once he began the lesson, however, you became determined to meet him. a real, genuine meeting, and you were going to win him over for good. you worship the lesson, it's not staged prank content like his friend bobby, it's real. it's gritty. and, in your opinion, incredibly attractive.

who cares about the people you left behind to travel all the way to outside LA. kurt is all that matters in your lovesick state.

opening the gogo app, you frantically search for kurt's description. according to his stream, he should be searching for unlucky victims right about now, despite spree being suspended.

you're about to grow frustrated until you see your saviour's profile appear. you couldn't possibly be happier.

immediately requesting a ride, you fish out your handcrafted, shoddily made kurtsworld hat and drop it onto the top of your head. you cannot wait to see the look on his face when he catches you adorning it.

after a few minutes of listening to him ramble to the camera about how he's surprised no passengers have recognized him, you hear him announce that he thinks he has his eyes on the prize—you.

you enter the stolen vehicle with a skip in your step, except this time you find comfort in the passenger seat.

"whoa whoa w—hey, wait, is that a..?" he stammers out, initially apprehensive at your choice of seating but you see him ease up once he notices your headwear.

"yes, kurt, i'm literally your biggest fan," you answer breathlessly, showing off your hat to the camera. "i loved watching you kill all those jerks, but now that you're all about love it's even better, you know? i've been watch—"

you're interrupted by kurt laughing out of pure glee. he's never felt this loved before. "holy shit you guys, we actually ... we have a real fan in the house," he trips over his own words out of unfiltered excitement. he made it. fuck his other tens of thousands of viewers, this person, this angel, is all that matters.

the two of you spend what feels like an eternity chatting, just like old times.

"what's your favourite video i've made?" he asks, and if your vision isn't deceiving you, he's blushing. hard.

"gotta be your horror movie reviews. i liked you before the lesson too. but your water bottle tutorial was really useful too, i know a few people who really need to drink one." you reply instantly, as if you planned out the whole conversation.

in truth, you did rehearse your answers to certain questions, you're infatuated with your plan to impress kurt and win him over. some may call you unhinged, but you're the kind of person who'd do anything for love.

the chat isn't too fond of your friendly behaviour with each other. they're begging for something gory to happen, and honestly, a death at kurt's hand isn't something you'd hate that much.

he listens for their pleas to start driving and places his hands on the wheel. "you want to go to the...construction site, right...?" he asks with a raised brow.

"yeah! i loved the gummy bear part of the stream, i'd love to check the place out myself." a smile graces his features in response to your words. he's still shocked that someone actually likes his content enough to spend time with him.

as you drive down the bumpy road, he pipes up. "so, like, what's your handle? i'll follow you back,"

"we've been mutuals for years, kurt."

"wait, you're—" he repeats your username, the one person other than bobby who continuously tunes into his content. "damn. that's so cool. it was always...neat seeing you pop in,"

you perk up as your face grows warm, "you really think so? it means a lot."

"of... of course i think so. i couldn't have done it without... well, you..."

as he steers, you embrace the boldness kurt gives you and you peck him on the cheek. the skin is flushed beneath your lips, and he nearly crashes at the contact.

"i... oh god, you just.. i really... i really want to.."

"look! some dumbass is crossing the street! hit them, hit them!" you jump out of your seat and point towards a middle aged man, and kurt speeds up.

he's so flustered that he's still registering the kiss, but he complies, hitting the pedestrian with a bone—chilling thump.

his viewers are growing every second, the chat congratulating him for getting some action, while others toss insults at the life you two just ended.

"our first kill," you say as you two lock eyes and he has the giddiest grin on his face.

finally reaching your destination, he opens the driver side door and does a loop around the car to open yours. such a gentleman.

with his clammy hand in yours, you step out.

"sooo, this is the spot where i ran that douchebag over," he points around the area, shuffling his feet. "i can... show you the junkyard with the dogs too, if you want."

you nod enthusiastically, "i'd love to see that."

"great, great. uhh.." as he thinks of what to say next, you approach him. draping your arms around his neck, you press a kiss to his chapped lips. he can't help but groan at your touch, never having kissed anybody like this before.

he instinctively pulls you off.

"i... that was..."

"nice?"

"yeah. nice. do you wanna take this to my...back to my car, or something?" nodding again at his words, you reach for his hand again and stroll to the vehicle with him.

you crawl inside and kurt immediately gets comfortable on top of you, shoving his face into yours. you can tell he's inexperienced when it comes to kissing, but you return the touches, fingers finding refuge in his tufts of hair. his kisses are sloppy but passionate, his longing to be loved presenting itself in each action.

"i've always wanted to..." he mutters as he pulls away for air. "...kiss someone like that. i'm glad it was a fan and not some jerk at one of bobby's parties,"

your heart hammers in your chest as you respond with another breathless kiss. you're actually kissing your idol, and his entire stream is watching. kinda forgot about that.

without warning, a police car skids into the lot, and you and kurt exchange glances of horror.

he rushes to the driver's seat, yelling at you to put on a seatbelt as he preps for blastoff.

he peels out of the area, driving to god knows where.

"well, my little... partner in crime... do you wanna finish what we started somewhere else?"

"of course."

#kurt kunkle x reader #kurt kunkle #kurt kunkle imagine

[mlmxreader]

Battle Scars | Aragorn x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Aragorn

1 "Don't let a good meal go to waste" ❞

: ̗̀➛ Aragorn takes a liking to a soldier.

: ̗̀➛ war, death, violence, swearing

↳ @arthurmorgansballsack

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

A soldier's life was not one anyone would have ever wanted or liked to have had; tales of glory and honour were often caused by embellishment and the lies of those who ruled the land and the history books with an iron fist. The stories of what had happened on the front lines were often spun with lies and gold. They made shit seem like it glittered.

When you first joined the army, you were two years underage; you were told that you were fighting for a land fit for the victorious. You were told that religion was on your hand as you held your sword. You chased your days down to zero, you knew that you would never live a full life.

As much as you fought, bled, and nearly died you would never live a full life. You were fodder.

You knew that even a year would be longer than what most were given; when you first volunteered, you wrote down your name, and you added exactly two years to your age so that they would accept.

At the time, you had been eager for life; you were eager to see all of Middle Earth and to meet all of its peoples, you were eager to see great cities and brilliant forests and gorgeous mountains and bountiless seas.

You were eager for it all, and the promise of glory and honour and freedom was a brilliant promise that would never be kept; one year into the life, and you had seen too much already. You had been ahead at the time, so eager and so willing, that you never stopped to listen to those who had seen it all before.

You had been ahead, ready for your story of glory to be told; but there was none to be had. As much as you fought and you brawled, there was never any glory in it. You were just food and fodder.

But oh, that first year was nothing compared to the next; your friend, a young man from Gondor. He was the same age as you, a glorious head of black hair mixed with thick eyebrows and a wonderful smile; he seemed to be blessed by the sun, his almost black eyes seemingly glittering in the afternoons.

You heard him cry, and he sank to his knees; coughing blood as he screamed for his mother. You fell by his side, letting him die in your arms as you clung to each other like children; for hours, you laid in the mud, covered in guts and blood, weeping as his body grew colder. You called for his mother, but she never came - it wasn't your fault. You could never carry the burden of guilt for it.

The day had not even been half over when he became one of ten thousand who fell that day; nobody would remember his name. Nobody would remember his soldiering. Nobody would ever know him. You alone carried him.

You were never the same after that; as the years wore on, your guilt only grew. Having seen hundreds of friends die, you no longer wanted to be a soldier; you never wanted to be the only one who remembered their names, who remembered them.

But you stayed, slowly becoming like the very soldiers you didn't listen to - warning new recruits about it. About how war killed everything.

You met Aragorn after your tenth year in the wars.

He had been passing through as a ranger, and had stopped when he noticed the soldiers; he realised many of them came from Gondor and Rohan, but most of them were from just about everywhere he could think of.

The young ones seemed thirsty for battle, ready and waiting for it; but then he laid his eyes on you and the other grizzled and melancholic men in the corner.

Huddled over a fire with gazes that seemed to drift into the flames for thousands of miles, saying nothing and refusing to move; he tilted his head to the side, watching for a moment. None of you moved, but the soft puffs of light grey air that spouted from your noses was enough to see that you were all breathing.

You all looked miserable, and even worse, he could see that none of you had been eating; the younger ones had, but it was obvious even to Aragorn that those who had seen wars before were starving themselves to ensure the younger ones would survive the tough winters.

He swallowed thickly, watching for a moment for asking for you to speak with him; you met him in your tent, and although you weren't so keen on making friends anymore, you talked with him until the sun had risen. He promised that he would find you again, and he did.

At least once a week, a ranger would wander into the soldier's camp, and you would always spend hours speaking to him within your tent. Always until the sun had risen. It wasn't long before the others started to talk; you refused to call Aragorn a friend, knowing what happened to those who you allowed to get close.

You did not want to scream for another man's mother knowing she would not come; you did want to cling to another man as you held him like a child, weeping as the warmth left him. You could not do it again. You would not.

But Aragorn was determined, and would not relent; it didn't help that he insisted on bringing you whatever food he could find and spare. He always made sure that he left in the mornings and your stomach was full; food was a luxury, and he was all too aware that it was mostly you giving up your rations for the younger ones.

He knew that the rulers of kingdoms were often unfair and cruel; the lies of the devil and the devil's point of view. They made the world full of hate and anger, causing as much fear and pain as they could; but he could see it in you. You did not value pride, did not value glory. You could survive the storm, you could withstand the devil's lies.

You had taken enough pain that he was certain of it; sad were the memories of when you were not fighting in a war. A youth that had been doomed and squashed, an innocence that had been ripped and torn apart.

Aragorn heard the whispers of the dead just as you did; he heard them beg and implore you to forgive yourself, but you didn't. You had a price to pay, and not every ounce of gold had been repaid. For years, he visited, and tonight was no different.

He pushed the plate closer to you, pleading with his grey eyes as he frowned. "Please, don't let a good meal go to waste."

"I don't want it..." you muttered, shaking your head.

"But you look worse," he sighed. "You cannot starve, I will not allow it."

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head again. "Aragorn, leave me. My clock has struck its final hour."

"No," he told you. "Death is not your fate. This pain that follows you... allow me to shoulder some of it so that you may experience enough peace to eat."

"Aragorn-"

"The days are darker," he started, "and you are getting worse. You are going to make yourself sick if you keep starving. Please."

"Why do you care so much?" You asked.

"You're not just a soldier to me," Aragorn whispered. "You know that. Don't you?"

"Please stop," you whispered. "Please. I am a shadow of a man."

"You have seen too much war," he pointed out. "You haven't seen enough peace... come with me for a while. See the world."

You froze, eyes widening as you shook your head with vigour. "No. No, you cannot make me go."

"Easy," Aragorn said softly. "I don't mean like that. I only mean... why don't you accompany me? You may see peace, that way, and it may quieten your head for a moment."

As much as you didn't want to admit it, you did trust Aragorn; he might not have fought beside you, but he had been loyal, and he had proved himself a decent companion more than once.

You trusted him, and although you knew such a thing was likely as it was, you would happily trade your life for his. You would pay the price of two miles for him, if it ever came down to it. Swords and maces and axes and bows, you would face it all for him. Although you were hesitant when it came to fighting; you could not bear the thought of seeing another man die in front of you.

Screaming and howling for his mother like a dying dog, all civility and humanity ripped from his body as he cried and moaned. You could not bear the thought of hearing them die on the battlefield at night; they would take days to die amongst the mud, often eaten by rats bit by bit.

You would end your life before seeing that again.

But perhaps Aragorn had a point; maybe if you went with him, and you saw his life for just a day, it would make you feel a little better. It wouldn't cure the melancholy, and nor would it take away the memories - but it might have made you feel a bit better.

Maybe all you needed was to see sprawling trees and bountiless grasses, to hear the scream of foxes and the grunting of deer; maybe all you needed was to just be away from war, if only for a day or two. Youm nodded slowly, sighing heavily as you fought back the urge to cry loudly.

"Alright," you said, your voice shaking. "I will go with you in the morning... but you best rest, Aragorn. Take my bed."

"No," he said quietly. "No, I can sleep on the floor. You need a bed, I do not."

"Please," you said softly. "As a thank you."

"You can thank me better by joining me," he told you with a smile. "It is rather cold... maybe we can share the warmth?"

You nodded slowly, daring to smile a little. "Alright."

#mlem writes #aragorn x reader #aragorn x you #aragorn imagine #aragorn fanfiction #aragorn son of arathorn #aragorn lotr #aragorn #lotr x reader #lotr x you #lotr x y/n #lotr imagine #lotr fanfiction #lotr fanfic #lotr fic #lotr aragorn #lotr #lord of the rings x reader #lord of the rings x you #lord of the rings imagine #lord of the rings fanfiction #lord of the rings fic #lord of the rings