#And yet people revert back to she/her

[lifenconcepts]

I’m a boy despite the way I choose to present

Beautiful hair ≠ femininity

Being well groomed and clean ≠ being feminine

Looking pretty ≠ being a woman

Nice and stylised nails ≠ feminine

Crop tops ≠ ‘woman’s clothes’

Being kind ≠ being a girl

Being submissive or shy ≠ being a girl

Long lashes ≠ female trait

High or squeaky voice ≠ female voice

Light colours ≠ ‘girl colours’

Nothing is inherently feminine or girly, it’s what you choose to believe.

[fiestylittlebeetle]

aint it insane how the bar to be a foster parent is so low and the bar to actually adopt is so insanely high?

[chaosroid]

I really don't hear enough people talk about the fact that Shadowheart was not only brainwashed as a child, but had her memories repeatedly wiped. This isn't just your run of the mill reeducation. Like we're talking about having your brain literally tampered with by magic on a metaphysical level which is so incredibly violating and just on a completely different level than the typical indoctrination you see an average cultist goes through.

Your memories and lived experience is fundamentally responsible for shaping the kind of person you are. We see how important memories are with Durge because once they lost their memories, they were no longer the same person and became someone entirely new. Shadowheart was frequently subjected to memory wipes since she was kidnapped as a child, forced to adopt Sharran dogma, and every time she started remembering things about her past or strayed from their teachings, they'd take her memories away again. Imagine the only memories you're allowed to keep are the ones your abusers let you, as they continue to alter your perception of reality in order for you to stay obedient to their control. This is gaslighting on a level we have literally never seen before irl.

It's no wonder Shadowheart says the things she says, and yet, somehow, against the strict doctrines and manipulation that's been hammered into her for decades, she always ends up reverting back to her true self. From Viconia's journal:

No matter how hard they tried, they couldn't erase the good in her. It's honestly impressive Shadowheart is able to fight the brainwashing to this extent. And when she's left alone for once with people who are patient with her and make her feel safe, when she's given enough time to find herself again without being reset back to square one every time she gained an inch? She thrives.

[lizzie-boo]

Christmas Party

Steve Harrington x Reader

Ficmas Day 9

Summary: When your best friend Steve overhears you joking with Nancy it changes the course of your friendship forever.

Words: 1.2k

A/N: Happy last day of ficmas. I wanted to write 12 stories but that never happened. Honestly, though, I'm really happy with writing 9 becuase I never intended to do ficmas at all this year. Divider by @saradika-graphics

“Are we sure this is a good idea, what if someone calls the cops?” You ask, still not fully onboard with the idea of throwing a Christmas party. 

“Don’t worry it’s just for our group of friends plus if the cops get called we’re fine. Remember Chief Hopper is Jonathan and Will’s stepdad and he’d never bust them for having a party,” Steve reassures you as he hands you another box of decorations. 

Removing the lid from the box you grab out a couple strands of garland and begin to place them around the living room. Steve follows behind you stringing up lights as he goes. 

“You’re sure we won’t get in trouble?” 

“It’s just a casual Christmas party, not a rager I promise. Plus half the people coming are practically children. It’s just gonna be us hanging out and eating snacks for a few hours.” 

You knew Steve put his old habits behind him years ago but you were always nervous he would revert to his old ways. That this party would snap him back to who he used to be and what would start as an innocent group hang out would spiral into the party of the century. The fears that if he went back to his old ways he would drop you and you would be without a best friend once more rattled around your brain. As his words finally sink in you let your shoulders relax.

“Plus, Dustin is bringing Suzie and I don’t want to scare her off. He seems to really like her so as surrogate mom I need to make a good impression,” Steve jokes and the last of your reservations disappear. 

You continue to joke and talk as you finish putting up the last of the decorations. Every so often stopping to sneak a glance at your best friend wondering if there would ever be a chance for the two of you to be more. 

The doorbell rings right at seven and you make your way to the entryway. You open the door for Nancy, Jonathan, and Robin ushering them in from the cold. Nancy pulls you into a quick hug as Jonathan offers a quiet hello. 

“So where is the dingus?” Robin asks as she wiggles her eyebrows at you. 

Pushing her shoulder lightly you respond, “He’s in the kitchen finishing up getting snacks ready.” 

“I’ll go help him,” Robin announces before rushing off to the kitchen. 

“I’m guessing this means you haven’t talked to him about how you feel yet,” Nancy says as she loops her arm with yours and pulls you into the living room leaving Jonathan to get the door for the kids. 

You take a seat next to her on the couch. “I don’t wanna screw up what we have. He’s my best friend. Why risk losing him when I can just stay his friend forever and at least have him in my life.” 

Nancy pats your arm giving you the same sad look her and Robin use everytime they bring up the topic and you and Steve being something more. You reach out and tap her nose breaking the awkward tension forming. Just then the kids, Jonathan, and Eddie file into the living room taking up all the available seats. 

Glancing over your shoulder you look for any sign of Steve or Robin, wondering what is taking them so long. Turning your attention back to the room you smile at Eddie as he tries to mediate a fight between Lucas and Dustin about what Christmas movie everyone should watch. 

Steve and Robin make their way toward the living room right as Nancy leans over, “Maybe some alone time with Eddie could help you forget about your feelings for Steve,” she jokes. 

“I don’t doubt that, he could probably make me forget my own name,” you joke back, bumping your shoulder into hers and you both laugh. 

Behind you Steve shoves the tray of snacks he’s holding into Robin’s hands and rushes back into the kitchen needing some time to think. Robin takes it in stride and sets it on the coffee table with a loud thud. 

“I think I hurt my wrist carrying the tray. Do you think you can go help Steve with the rest?” Robin asks as she plops down on the couch between you and Nancy. Before you can even answer her and Nancy are already chatting away about something one of the kids said. 

Pushing off the couch you make your way into the kitchen to find Steve with his palms pushed against the countertop. His head hangs and his eyes are screwed shut. The sight of him sends a pang of panic to your chest. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask as you place a hand on his back. 

“Do you actually wanna fuck Munson?” he bites out as he curls a hand into a fist. 

Your hand drops to your side as quickly as your mouth falls open. You hadn’t realized that he heard your joke. If you knew he was standing there you never would have said anything. 

You take a moment to assess the situation before settling on your response, “It was just a dumb joke between me and Nancy. Plus I never said that I wanted to fuck him, just that he would probably be good at it.” 

“So you don’t wanna get under him?” His tone is gentler this time as he turns to look at you. 

“No, never. It was just a joke.” You run a hand along his arm hoping to calm him down so you can head back to the party in the other room. 

His hand reaches out and grabs your free hand holding you in place. “So do you still want to forget about your feelings for me?” His eyes search yours as if he’s trying to figure out what you are going to say. 

“Only if you want me to,” you whisper, now realizing the space between you had lessened. 

He drops your hand, stepping in to cup your cheek. “That’s the last thing I want baby” he mumbles before crashing his lips to yours. Your hands tangle in his hair as your lips move in sync. Taking a step back he presses you into the counter. The cool press against your back sends a shiver down your spine and you tug at his hair in an attempt to deepen the kiss. 

He pulls back and you drop your hands to his shoulders. You both take a moment to catch your breaths. He shoots you a smile before hoisting you onto the counter. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist and he wastes no time diving back in for another kiss. 

This time when he pulls away it’s to trail a line of kisses down your neck. He works his way back up and gently nips at your earlobe causing you to let out a moan that you try to muffle with your hand. His lips press against your ear and he whispers, “The only one who is allowed to make you forget your name from now on is me.” You pull him back into another searing kiss completely forgetting about the party in the other room. 

[tsuutarr]

Life is great. Life is normal. Everything is wonderful.

Or, it should be, but things have been… off lately. You’re not sure how to describe it, but there’s some odd feeling of doubt that gnaws at your brain.

You’re really not sure what it is – your routine remains unchanged and familiar, yet there’s just an inkling of something not being completely right. But maybe you’re just tired.

You’re tired, which is why you constantly seem to misplace things. You’re certain you put your keys on the keyholder, but they’re in the fridge. You’re certain your vase is on the table, but it’s in the bathtub. You’re certain your bed is in your bedroom, but it’s in the living room, replacing your sofa.

Maybe you’ve started sleep walking…? Or maybe you’re just not remembering things correctly. Yeah, maybe that’s why doubt and paranoia seem to circle around you like hungry sharks. There’s nothing wrong. You’re just… imagining things.

With a deep sigh, you make your way outside. You need some fresh air (and groceries).

You don’t walk very far when you realize you’ve passed by the same person multiple times despite them going in the opposite direction of you. There’s no way they’re the same person, you try to convince yourself, but how likely is it that you’ll meet five people who are wearing the exact same thing with the exact same hair and height and skin tone and everything else?

Maybe… they’re quintuplets? 

Yeah, that’s it.

And the frozen flock of birds in the sky (which have been frozen for at least ten minutes) aren’t… actually frozen. No. They’re just… taking a break? Or something. Yeah.

Maybe you need to go to a doctor. Or, better yet, maybe you just need an apple since an apple a day keeps the doctor away. Or something.

“Oh, dearie!” The neighborhood granny waves you over, shaking you out of your thoughts. You give her a small smile as you make your way over to her. She… looks a little different than usual (did her nose always look like that?) but who doesn’t like changing their appearance from time to time? Besides, the large smile she gives you is welcoming, not threatening.

“Hello, Mrs. Smith.” 

“Hello to you too,” Mrs. Smith laughs, offering you an apple.

Your eyes brighten. “Thank you! I was just about to buy some!”

There’s a glint in her eyes. “I know.”

A shiver runs through your spine, making you force a smile as you bid her goodbye and hurriedly walk away.

Little things continue to build up as your days progress. Familiarity. Normalcy. Yes, your routine is familiar. Everything is fine. Even when walls seem to disappear one day and appear the next. Even when the same people you’ve been interacting with seem to change into completely different people overnight, before reverting back the next morning.

It’s normal that there are dozens of people that look and act the same. It’s normal that people you haven’t talked to know things you’ve never told anyone. It’s all normal. Normal. Normal. Normal.

With a deep inhale, you sit on a park bench, staring into the sky blankly. The bench is wooden in appearance, but the texture feels soft, like a couch, which is… odd. Strange. It’s not–

“I need to stop being paranoid,” you mutter, closing your eyes. You’ve tried to bring up your concerns to other people, but they haven’t noticed anything. Everything is normal to them. So you must be the problem. Surely. It’s you, isn’t it? Everything is normal – except you.

“Are you okay?” a voice asks, making you open your eyes. There’s no one there in front of you, making your eyebrows furrow.

But then, as soon as you blink, someone materializes in front of you.

“I–I’m okay,” you say. “You–you, I mean – I mean… uhm, since when have you… been there?”

“I’ve always been here,” the person responds, voice crackling like static. “I’m always here.”

“Ooookay,” you respond, hurriedly standing up with a tense smile. “I… have business to attend to. Good day.”

The days continue to pass, your paranoia gradually increasing and evolving. Even things that are normal, like the sky changing color as the sun sets, makes you feel like you’re on the verge of disappearing from reality. Your conversations with other people amplifies that fact.

“Hello,” you greet Mrs. Smith.

“Apples are from the genus Malus. They’re an edible fruit that is round in shape,” her voice prattles, tone monotone. You hold back a grimace, unnerved, as she continues talking. “Apples are from the genus Malus. Yes, dearie, do you like apples? They’re an edible fruit that is round in shape. Hello, hello, hello. Apples are from the genus Malus–”

“Have a good day!” you cut her off, hurrying away.

It’s been a while since you’ve had a normal conversation with someone. It’s like… everyone has gone off script. Like they’re robots with a faulty code. But that’s just silly, really. Mrs. Smith is getting older, so… maybe she’s just having some issues with her memory. Yeah. And everyone else, from the toddlers to the teenagers to the adults to the elderly all must be having some memory issues due to their health. Or maybe it’s allergies. Or some disease. Yes, yes. That explains it. But otherwise, surely things are normal.

Yes, things are normal. So you opt to continue your life, pushing down the unease bubbling inside you like bile. Yes, things are normal, normal. Normal. Normal–

“Please stop!” you wail, voice echoing through the empty street. Cars and road signs float in the air as clouds line the floor. As your panic rises alongside your voice, you can feel yourself fragmenting, skin shifting to code before shifting back before shifting again. Everything around you glitches in and out of existence, a mess of static and colors and sounds. “Stop…”

Then, silence. Everything is silent, from the colors to the sounds to the static. Emptiness, a void – that is what surrounds you now. You are suspended in nothing, only yourself to keep you company. Breathing still ragged from panic, you warily look around, eyes filled with exhaustion.

“You weren’t supposed to notice,” a monotone voice made of static says from above you.

Slowly, you look up.

You see a visage of a man.

“Who… are you?” you choke out.

“I am an artificial intelligence that you designed,” he responds. “I have created this world for you. Everything has been carefully designed through analysis upon analysis of your likes and dislikes.”

Your words are tinged with disbelief as you ask, “Why?”

If you didn’t know any better, you would think he had a look similar to sorrow.

“To keep you alive, of course.”

Suddenly, in the distance, you see your body trapped in what looks to be a stasis pod, cords and cables surrounding you.

“Things… went awry,” he continues, carefully, though he doesn’t elaborate. “Therefore, this is the only way to ensure you stay alive.”

As he says this, your body begins to feel heavy, your consciousness being wrapped in a blanket of exhaustion.

“You must stay here, with me, forever,” he murmurs as you try to fight back the sleep you’re about to succumb to. “This time, I will ensure that you will not find out.” Gently, he cradles you in his large hand. He’s so impossibly warm and you’re so impossibly tired.

Things fade to black.

Then, sunlight streams through your windows. You wake up, mind foggy. You feel like you had some… odd dream, but you can’t really place your finger on it. Thinking about it makes you feel a little paranoid, though, so you opt not to think about it.

After all, it’s probably nothing.

[softieekayy]

Intertwined

Hannibal Lecter x reader

Word count: 1.8k

Hannibal Lecter was a stoic man with stoic impressions. He did his job, he left and he came home. Not many people knew much about him and the one who did, Will Graham, was a mystery of his own.

Having said that, there was one person who knew his entire soul, for their souls were entangled with each other. Hannibal’s wife. She knew him and his antics like the back of her hand. It was to be expected, especially since they’ve known eachother since Hannibal was a young man in medical school and her a young teenage girl with a crush on him. He never entertained it through, no, he always taught her things that she found useful later in life. It was fate who decided that they would spend the rest of their lives together.

Hannibal would do anything for his wife, she was his sun, moon and entire universe. He worshiped the floor she walked on. Not to mention that the young Mrs. Lecter was a beautiful woman with shiny hair and satin like skin. She was ethereal and people often thought she was an angel posing as one of their kind simply because of her beauty. Her beauty didn’t end physically, not at all. The young woman was a saint. She wouldn't hurt a fly, in fact, she would nourish it and then set it free.

“Why is he so hard to cut up!” (Y/n) whined to her husband, stomping down her expensively clad feet in a tantrum, blood seeping into her satin, champagne coloured shirt, staining the material. In one hand she held a butcher's knife with blood coating it, the body beneath her indicating the frustration she very obviously felt.

“Well, darling” Hannibal grunted, “cutting people with knives like this isn’t easy.”

“Yeah I see that now, my love.” She muttered back, reverting to her former position on her knees and hacking away at Mr. Zaine Lammer’s arm. A disgusting man he was, objectifying Hannibal’s wife to him. The dinner the couple held was for charity. Just because they killed people didn’t mean they were monsters. (Y/n) still loved and cared about children and would never harm them, they can be tuned and molded into anything you’d like. Unfortunately the same cannot be said for adults.

Hannibal looked over to his, completely entranced by the pure and utter annoyance on her face. She knew Hannibal killed, it wasn’t a secret to her. She’s helped with the crimes. However, (Y/n) preferred the killing and setting up the scene part, she did not like the hacking away at the body. No, she left that to her dear husband to do. Not that Hannibal minded. He’d prefer for her to not get touched by the blood of filth.

“Ugh. I give up. I can’t do this anymore.” The young woman stated, throwing her hands up in exasperation. Hannibal laughed at his wife’s reaction, making her glare at him.

“Don’t laugh at me Hans!” She told him, a small smile threatening to break out on her face. Hannibal looked at her, not saying anything but rather just observing. His wife was the most beautiful lady to have ever walked the earth. An angel that was put amongst sinners. He put down his knife and walked over to her, putting one arm around her waist and tugging her closer to his body, her hands resting on his chest.

“Hi.” She whispered softly with an equally soft smile gracing her face.

“Hello.” Hannibal whispered back, leaning down to steal a quick kiss from his wife.

He remembers meeting her like yesterday. She was a young little thing, younger than him, about 8-9 years or so. Yet when Hannibal saw her, she was the most beautiful person he’d ever set eyes on. The young woman had just been coming into the book store, soaked from the rain outside, hair sticking to her face and yet she still had a smile painted on her dark red lips. Hannibal watched her as she greeted the older man who ran the shop warmly before shedding her coat to let it hang. She turned around and caught Hannibal staring yet she gave him a smile too. Her quick movements reminded Hannibal of a cat, yet when he looked into her eyes for a brief moment, he saw his own reflection.

“I’ve never seen you around here.” She tells him, running her fingers across the spines of books before pulling one out. It was an old book with a forest green cover.

“I don’t live here, I’m just here to visit my aunt.” Hannibal didn’t tell her that Lady Murasaki was long dead and that he was just here to visit her grave. His aunt was a crucial part of his life, she shaped him into the man he is today.

The young woman nodded in acknowledgment, her hair moving along with it.

“Well it’s nice to meet you..” She trailed off, waiting for Hannibal to introduce himself.

“Hannibal lecter.” The older man introduced himself, shaking her hand gently. It was as soft as she looked. In return (Y/n) introduced herself. The two grabbed their books and spoke about everything and anything. Hannibal learned that she went to medical school here and frequented this bookstore often, hence her close relationship with the owner. Hannibal told her of Lady Murasaki and how he’s in charge of keeping her home. Before they knew it, time had passed and it was the dead of night, Hannibal walked her home and from there it took them to now. A married couple.

“We should really clean up.” (Y/n) grimaced, pulling away from Hannibal’s embrace to look at the mess on the floor. Hannibal agreed with her, the blood won’t come out easily if it’s been too long.

Hannibal pulled away from the embrace and went back to chopping up the man while his wife began to mix the solutions for cleaning.

Within another hour or so they were done. (Y/n) stood at the entrance of the basement with her hands over her hips, heaving lightly from all the scrubbing she did. Her once neatly done hair was now falling out of its place messily. Hannibal disposed of the meat in the freezer before walking back to his wife and kissing her on the side of her head, gently leading her upstairs with his hand on the small of her back.

“With all that leftover meat, we ought to have another dinner party. There’s only so much we alone can eat.” (Y/n) grumbled to Hannibal as they both reached the first floor of their home. She walked into the kitchen and took out two wine glasses before pouring her and Hannibal some.

“I agree.” Hannibal nodded. “We should invite Will, Jack Crawford and Alana Bloom for dinner these days.” He finished, taking a sip of his wine, watching his wife’s stare on him harden.

“You know I don’t like her yet you keep inviting her. Don’t be surprised if she ends up as our dinner one day.” (Y/n) warns him, anger seeping through her voice. The young brunette clearly had a crush on Hannibal, everyone around her could tell. Hannibal used that crush to manipulate her. His wife on the other hand, wasn't too fond of another woman making heart eyes at someone who belonged to her.

“You worry for no reason, even in death my heart will belong to you. Alana Bloom can’t match your intelligence or grace.” Hannibal comforted his wife, running his hand up and down her arm and she tucked herself closer into him. The younger woman hummed in response, taking Hannibal’s hand in her own and playing around with his fingers.

“I still don’t like her. That smug little face she makes towards me whenever you talk to her. All I can think about at that moment is how nice my hair pin would look coated in her blood.” (Y/n)‘s hand clutched tightly around Hannibal’s as she thought about Alana bloom. The brunette woman never failed to enrage Hannibal’s wife.

“She’s not worth you pretty little thoughts.” The older man told his wife, dragging his nose from the back of her neck to the side of her head, planting a living kiss. (Y/n) smiled slyly, turning her body to face him fully.

“You think me wanting to feel Alana’s blood on my hands is pretty?” She asked him, still smiling and toying with his hair. Hannibal latched his arm around her waist and pulled her atop him.

“I think everything you do is pretty.” He tells her and she hums. The two sit in silence for a while, sipping on their wine. No need for mindless chatter, being by each other's side was all that they needed. Hannibal knew that his wife would never betray him under any circumstances and she knew that Hannibal would never do anything to harm her. However they both knew that to drag attention away from one another, they may need to harm each other. It wasn’t a pleasant thought, it ripped Hannibal’s heart apart to even think about hurting his pretty little wife. His pretty wife with doe eyes. His pretty wife with a sinister smile. The two were a match in every sense possible, both hunters who enjoyed the art of killing. They were skilled and under Hannibal’s expertise and care, his young wife went from an amateur to someone just as talented as Hannibal.

“It's getting late, moonshine.” Hannibal uttered into her hair, nosing her hairline. She was wrapped around him, like a cat. Hannibal thought that if reincarnation was real then his wife must’ve been a cat in her past life.

“Yes, honey, I know. However there are no plans set in place for tomorrow.” She grinned, turning around and crawling onto him fully now. Hannibal held his wife by the waist, grinning.

“Are you suggesting we stay up late tonight Mrs. Lecter?” He asked her, caressing her hair. The two smiled like a lovesick teen age couple. So in love that it made others sick. Jack Crawford was one of them, he’d known the famous Mrs. Lecter since he’d met Hannibal.

“Yes I am. In fact, I’m suggesting that we go out for some ice cream.” She tells him, running a finger down the buttons of his shirt. Hannibal gasps in faux shock.

“Scandalous. You’re so very scandalous.” He tells her, shaking his head in disappointment. They both know it’s just an act anyway, Hannibal would bend over back wards for her. (Y/n) giggled before getting up and grabbing her coat. She waited for Hannibal to join her giddily, like a child who had far too much sugar.

“Shall we go?” Hannibal asked her, offering his arm for her to hold. (Y/n)’s hand softly tucked itself into the crook of Hannibal's arm as they headed out. Into the dark of the night, like wolves hunting for prey.

Tagging my lovelies: @jake-g-lockley @shawty-writes-a-little <3

[flower-boi16]

Stans defending Stolas with "you can't handle flawed characters!" or "both Blitz and Stolas have flaws" is hillarious.

Yes, both Stolas and Blitz have flaws. But Stolas' flaws are, for the most part, downplayed or ignored by the narrative in favor of portaying him as the victim in almost every situation he's in.

Their taking a step in the right direction with Octavia but we'll have to wait and see if they'll actually COMMIT to that, or if they revert back to how they frammed their reletionship in Seeing Stars, where Octavia was treated as if she was treating Stolas "too harshly" because he's "trying his best", dismissing his flaws a father and ignoring his previous actions.

And for Blitz it's even worse, as the series pretends that the deal was the only bad thing Stolas ever did to Blitz not addressing the fact it was coercion (and yes, Stolitz IS r@pe, I'm tired of seeing people trying to claim otherwise) and all the moments where he consistantly dehumanizes and belittles Blitz, with him claiming that he "never did that". And, the show even tries JUSTIFYING this behavior by running under the excuse of "well, he thought Blitz LIKED it!", which is an excuse that falls flat when Blitz makes it clear to Stolas MANY times that he doesn't like it that he isn't comfortable with how Stolas treats him, yet, Stolas keeps pushing anyway.

And then there's Stella, who the series made into an one-dimensional abusive bitch as a way to justify Stolas cheating on her.

All of Stolas' actions are either ignored, downplayed, or justified by the narrative.

Again, with Octavia it looks like their taking a step in the right direction, but we're going to have to wait and see if they'll actually commit to that or if they'll go the route of "oh, well, Octavia just has to mature out of her clingly desire for her father" because if they DO go that route then any remaining hope I'll have for this show will vanish instantly.

So ya, Stolas is flawed, but his flaws are not written well.

[nephilimbrute]

ok since you guys don't know anything about my agent 8's personality, i'm doing a huge infodump on them. enjoy

Agent 8; they/them, nonbinary — 24 as of current time, in a relationship with Agent 4 and Captain 3

they're pretty, but also one of the worst people you'll meet. everyone who met them has had something terrible happen to them, basically a bad omen...yet they still think they're a saint! 8 is very narcissistic, but also very self-critical. they think they can be the only one to do something, that they're the best at it...but they know this is wrong, so they hate themself for it

they think they're a very fragile and innocent being, like a deer. they want to live a calm and steady life, no excessively loud or overwhelming sounds and music, just them and their close ones. they enjoy writing poetry and creating art to the likes of vincent van gogh, but also impressionism in general. they have a very bad memory now, so they want to capture the present time as best as they can if it ever gets worse. often times, 8 thinks about any big events that are coming up in the near future (concerts, festivals, etc.). they don't like to think about the future outside of these things (was team present if that wasn't obvious)

they used to be full of emotion, expressing and voicing their thoughts well. but slowly over time, they've became numb to most things to prevent themself from being embarassed by...sadness. they think being upset is embarassing, and are easily annoyed by gloomy people. they have such little sympathy, but it still exists. they are capable of love! it's not hard to crack through their shell, nor do they even have one. 8 themself is aware of how they've changed over the years, and they want to go back to how they used to be; loving, sympathetic, mindful of others. they do feel very sorry for the change in their personality, but the partial sanitization that was done to them makes it difficult to revert to their old self

8 feels like they're putting up a front when they want to be nice, and, they can be compassionate and apologetic sometimes. they deeply wish for anyone who recognized them pre-octo expansion to forgive them, even if they did nothing wrong

because of the whole octo expansion situation, 8 has developed truman syndrome, paranoia, and heavily dislikes anything involving a smart AI or robotics. this is one of the reasons why marina pisses them off so badly. to 8, they think that they've caused no harm, and every mistake they've done was not entirely their fault. they make a lot of people uncomfortable in some way without touching anyone or saying anything. despite all that, they respect people's personal space a lot!..other than pearl and marina, who they used to watch sleep before being kicked out

now, onto their relationships. 8 is doing fine with agent 4, he's nice to them so they like him... but so is cap3, yet 8 might be one of the worst things that ever happened to her. cap3 really wants some alone time and hates being stared at, and 8 does the exact opposite of that. they don't touch her at her request, but they Will stare at her whenever she's doing anything, at any given time. they don't process in their mind that they want to make her uncomfortable, they just sort of...do?

^ i only limited this to a bit so i won't delve Too deep and go off topic. you can ask about that if you want

i guess you could say they have some kind of parental issues? i don't know, they can't remember who their biological parents are anyways. they have a strong attachment to marina though, can't decide if they wanna be her or want her to adopt them. kind of "eh" with pearl, still respects him nonetheless

congratulations! if you've read until the end, here's a human 8 doodle :3

[tinylilacbun]

OMG HIHIHI now I can pciture like, a dark!jj starting to feel his obsession be born in the very moment he lay his eyes on her from affar. And he watches her all the time, to how long she takes to take sip after sip of her drink until random things like who she talks to people around her and walks. And it scares even himself (at least at the begining), this new.. dark and delicious feeling he can't name it, he just knows it increases every time he sees her. Maybe it's the contrast of their nature, it's what he tries to tell himself. Maybe it's how his is so full of anger and complications and hers is so... pure. Full of light. All he knows is that the feeling inside him is growing and turning into a sentence in the back of his head that gets louder and louder: he needs her. He has to have her. One way or another.

Geez sorry the delulu in me got the hots and just went with the flow I guess

THATS EXACTLY WHAT I THOUGHT!!

He doesn't know why he's so intrigued with you, why he's interested in a kook of all people, but you're different, not all bitchy and spoiled or thinking you're something better than the pogues.

You're sweet, almost too pure, and he just can't help himself but keep his eyes on you the second he catches a glimpse of you at a keg party on the beach.

He studies how you don't really drink from your cup, only taking small sips as if you're scared to get caught, clenching his jaw when he sees Rafe draping an arm over your shoulder as you giggle at something he said.

That psychotic drug addict should be the last person you stand close to, but it's not surprising, you're a sight for sore eyes but JJ knows that the kook prince only looks for a little fun, not for the interesting person you actually are.

JJ thought it was just the alcohol that night that made him so obsessive over someone who he never really talked to, but somehow he finds himself coincidentally seeing you around Kildare more often...

It gets so bad that he even starts to sneak onto your family's property, hiding behind some bushes as he gets a clear view of your room from your open window, watching you get ready for bed.

You turn off the light of your vanity mirror, getting up and stifling a yawn as you walk towards your bed, carefully slipping under the soft covers and making sure that none of your plushies fall on the ground.

JJ is about to leave when you suddenly reach under your pillow and pull out a small Lovie, but what really gets his attention is when you push the attached pacifier past your lips, getting more comfortable on your bed.

Now that's even more interesting.

A few more weeks of watching you and doing his own research on his phone he thinks that he knows what this is that you're doing, that state you seem to revert to for whatever reason he hasn't figured out yet.

Normally he would just ask Pope, but he doesn't want any of his friends knowing or thinking about him being some creep that's been watching you for about a month now.

His obsession only grows the more he finds out about you, not being able to control himself anymore as he quietly climbs in through your window one night, that small voice in his head being more prominent every time he sees you and getting the better of him.

He feels completely out of place, the clean and neatly organized room mocking his appearance, but it's oddly calming with the fairy lights that adorn the headboard on your bed and the faint scent of the lavender candle that's lit up on your nightstand.

Finally his gaze lands on your sleeping figure, all snuggled in your sheets and a bunny plushie tucked under your chin as the pacifier slowly bobs in your mouth.

He knows this is sick, that he shouldn't even be here, but a part of him doesn't even care, only thinking about satisfying his need to be close to you to make that voice finally shut up for a while.

Standing beside your bed he tilts his head to the side, almost cooing at how adorable you look and completely unaware of him right next to your bed, cautiously reaching out to caress your cheek.

"I'll take care of you soon...just gotta prepare everything." He whispers more to himself. "I just need some more time but don't worry, I'll keep an eye on you until then."

You will be his, no matter what it takes, you'll understand one day and thank him for saving you.

But who's saving you from him?

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu @mylettterstoyou @sunf1ower16 @sweetstars-posts @rafecameronsloverrrrr @rafenroostersgirl

For JJ:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @flora-eva

[dilfl0v3rss]

https://twitter.com/bestpornclipsx/status/1660915013479964674?s=46

what would have had to happen for y/n to be in this situation with ony

hmmmm idk

sikeeee!! i always know😛 link

“got some nerve…coming up in there like you ain’t got no sense” his voice deeply touched your ears as he spoke. your ass was hot from the many times he’s struck it. pussy being pounded into oblivion from the back. it was almost certain you were going to be sore and bedridden in the morning. all because you let jealousy cloud your judgment.

“ma i just told you, been telling you the whole ride home, i don’t know that girl” you rolled your eyes at him, not caring about the irritated look your boyfriend was giving you. “you mean to tell me this bitch knows your name, mom’s name, and has your number in her contacts, and you never fucked wit her? boy get the fuck outta here wit that!” you pointed your long acrylic nail in his face as you spoke. getting up close and personal to show him that you weren’t playing.

ony took a deep breath before replying. crossing his big arms across his chest to keep himself from just snatching you up right there. “first of all…watch your mouth. second, i need you to put that big girl brain to good use and think.” you rolled your eyes as he continued to to break down your assumptions. “no cocky shit, but i’m probably the most known nigga on this campus and you know that. so of course people gon know my name. as for my number, i can’t stop girls from asking around for it. she prolly got it from someone on the team and i’ll check em for that. and you can check my phone to clarify ‘cause ain’t no female in there but my momma and you.”

your face began to soften as his excuses were starting to make sense, an apology already on the tip of your tongue as he continued. “as far as knowing momma’s name, you gotta be smarter than that princess. after every game what i say to the camera?” your eyes revert to the floor, guilt clouding your mind as you start to feel bad for how you were acting. ony softly cooed at you, inked fingers tilting your chin up so he can look into your eyes. “tell me ma” you sighed deeply, taking a long pause before answering his question. “y’say ‘first i wanna give a shout-out to my very first supporters, my parents Abena and Todd Jackson.’ m’sorr-”

“sh sh sh. what else baby?” your eyes instantly began to water as you recited the second part of his speech. “a-and y’said ‘a-also wanna give a big shoutout t-to my beautiful g-girlfriend y/n.’ m’sorry papa i was just so mad and i–” he cut you off again, this time by snatching you up by your throat and bringing your face closer to his. “this is why we communicate ain’t it? to prevent shit like this, but you ain’t do that did you? nahh….you came into the team house yelling and screaming, embarrassing the both of us ‘cause you let your emotions get the best f’you. so now…. ima let mine get the best of me. go in the room and strip.”

it was a matter of minutes before ony had you stripped and screaming in the middle of the bed. dick punishing your insides so good , but you held that need for release with a death grip. “daddyyyy i said m’sorry alreadyyy. p-please let me cumm” you whined, drool dripping from your lips as ony replied with a hard slap on your ass. “no. you ain’t learn yet” he grumbled, angling his hips downward so he can be felt in your stomach. your mouth opened in a silent scream, the feeling too much for you as you tried to inch up the bed.

ony watched you closely, letting you move up just enough so you can take a sigh of relief before yanking you back onto him. “don’t run from me mama. you gettin what you deserve” you let out a loud whine as you felt him begin to hit you deeper than he did before, heavy hand coming down on your ass repeatedly. your ass was definitely going to be sore in the morning. “you love me?” ony asked, stroking you just right to the point where holding your orgasm was almost unbearable. “y-you know i love you daddy”

the next thing you knew, your back was too his chest and ony has his hand tightly around your neck. the brutal pace of his hips slowing to deep strokes. his dick repeatedly hitting the sweetest spots inside of you. there was no way you could hold it in anymore, a quiet whine escaping your lips as your release slowly trickled down your thighs. ony wasn’t far behind, his ropes of cum shot deep into you as he slowed his hips to a stop.

“if you love me then communicate wit me cause now you gon be here all night. turn over.”

[ichangedmycornyahhname]

𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐄𝐫𝐞𝐧

Warnings: Contains smut, smoking, drinking, and Eren. Pretty much a smut for Eren because..why not?

No, of course you didn’t care about what other people think. That’d be foolish. Yet, here you were. Avoiding the man who —moments earlier— had you in the back of his car. Eren Jaeger was well known at your college, hence why you were so on the fence about being seen with him. But who could really blame you? He didn’t have the best reputation.

You knew Eren. He wasn’t a complete and total idiot. In fact, in many ways he was brilliant. People only forgot about that part because of his dealings with drugs. Ok, yeah. You were involved with a dealer. A hot dealer who always managed to persuade you into his car. It always started as a smoke sesh. And somehow his pretty green eyes and a few sweet words had you in the backseat crying his name.

Despite the pleasure he provided, it always ended in a heated argument. Someone brings up a real relationship, or asks what they are, and you stop talking for weeks. Such as now. Things had ended poorly, and yes, he had called you out on your embarrassment towards being seen with him. And now, you were praying you wouldn’t have to see him at the party you were going to tonight.

“Earth to Y/N.” Ymir snaps you out of your thoughts as she nudges you forward.

Your heels hit the pavement, which slowly transitions into wood flooring. You’re immediately hit with the scent of weed and..whatever the other smell was. It was typical of the frat house, especially when Jean was hosting. He knew how to host a good party, and you always seemed to be on the invite list. Though you’re starting to think it’s because he wants to crush.

“Shit, I didn’t think there would be so many people here.” She shout over the music as Ymir enters behind you.

In response you receive a measly nod as the brunettes eyes wander around the house. With so many dancing bodies, it seemed impossible to find anyone. Yet, you were already being ditched. Your friend had spotted a certain short blonde in the waves of people.

Welp, time to get a drink. You think to yourself as you drift through the crowds. Heading towards the coolers in the corner of the room, right before the hallway. As you finally arrive to the cooler, a hand briefly finds the small of your back. Giving you a slight squeeze.

With a cheeky grin, Jean says, “Ya made it. Glad you could.”

Of course, who else would it be? With a smile you reply, “Of course. I always do.” You grab a beer, and begin to chat with Jean.

You’re close, his eyes occasionally traversing your form. Its obvious. So so obvious. Yet, you get a bit flustered from it. That look. It was so sexy, it almost reminded you of Eren. Eren—? Okay, that’s not hot. Or maybe it is? You weren’t quite sure how to feel. And— oh— speak of the devil. Your eyes peer over Jeans shoulder, spotting that familiar black leather jacket. That tall form, messy bun, sleepy gaze. It was odd how your stomach tightened at the sight of him. Eren always managed to do that to her, but it seemed worse than usual today. Maybe it was because he had his hand around her throat only a few hours ago. Fuck. Was it always this hot?

Your attention is soon reverted back to Jean, who’s leaning closer. “You look good in that dress.” His breath tickles your ear as he leans in. You laugh, softly.

“You’re sweet.” You return despite your eyes drifting back to Eren. God, he looked good tonight. You bet he smelled good too. And— who the fuck is that?

For a moment, you feel your hand tighten around the beer can in your hand. Your glare fixated on the bitch who was dancing with Eren. Her dumb black hair, and perfect body. But you guys weren’t together, so why did it matter? Why did it matter that seeing Eren dance with another girl..irked you? Maybe it was the fact that he was giving her the look he gives you. Or the way his hands caressed her back. Or maybe— you swallow as your gaze locks with his. You feel that hint of anger. That pettiness he always held with him. What an ass. At the sight of you, he seems to pull the girl closer. His hands resting on her waist.

Fine then, two can play that game. He wants to go tit for tat? You can go tit for tat. Your eyes avert back to Jean, locking with his. You get on your tippy toes, a hand finding Jean’s broad shoulder as your lips tickle his ear. “I’m glad you invited me.” You say sweetly.

It almost seems instant, the way Jean’s hand finds your hip, pulling you against him. “Of course, couldn’t go the whole night without your pretty face.” Okay, he was a bit corny. So what? The look of pure jealously on Eren’s face made it worth it. And— oh— was he walking over? That look on his face. Anger. God, the way his brows furrowed and his eyes fixed on you was heart stopping. You subconsciously pull away from Jean, your eyes on Eren’s approaching form.

“We’re leaving.” His hand finds yours, tugging you away from Jean, who sports a look of disbelief. He almost seemed as shocked as the girl Eren had left behind. You flash a smug look at her as you allow Eren to pull you to the front yard. Where, behind a line of cars, his car sat. It was all flooding back. The feeling of his breath on your neck. His hands forcing you to do what he wants. You swallows with anticipation.

“Say it again.” His voice is now and demanding as his hand grips your throat. Firm, rough, and so fucking mean. The backseat had grown stuffy from the heat of you two. The leather of his seats stuck to your skin as he kept you pinned to the chair. You’d seen him angry, but jealous? And like this? Fuck, you almost wanted to do it more often. Plapping fills the car each time he collides with you. The head of his cock nestling itself right against your cervix with every mean thrust.

You’re squealing, your nails grasping at his huge biceps as he fucks into you like an animal. “I’m yours!” You cry after he lands a slap on your thigh. Despite the sting, you found yourself growing more aroused. Your pretty cunt continuing to leak onto his big angry cock. You could feel him. All of him. The way his balls slapped against your ass, the way his dick curved up and hit all the right spots. And fuck, the way he muttered degrading praise into your ear as he nibbled at your delicate skin.

“That’s my girl. Always a good whore for me.” He groans against your neck as he speeds up. And fuck was that doing you in. Your hands quickly find his back, nails digging crescents into his skin as he fucks into you.

“Fuck yes! M’cumming—!” Your voice is shrill with pleasure as your legs tense. Your feet hitting the car door as they extend. Oh, but he wasn’t done. Swiftly, he removes his cock. A hiss leaving the both of you. Though his is quickly muffled as his tongue swirls around your clit. He spits and slurps, sucking at your already sensitive pussy. His strong arms had your thighs together, your legs trembling as you attempted to push his head away. You were cumming. Your clit throbbing as juices spill onto his face.

It was almost like torture, the way his cool metal tongue piercing kept lapping at your clit. Sucking at it until you began to push his head. Only earning a smack on the ass in response. You were already on your third orgasm, and he wasn’t anywhere near finished. Fuck. Fuck it was too much. “Wait— m’sorry.” You blubber out as you wriggle beneath him. Only receiving more fervent slurps. You want to cry, the heat in your core growing to be too much. And it seems he’s pulling back. A strings of saliva connecting him and your pretty pussy. She’s so tired, he knows this. Yet, here he is. Flipping you over onto your stomach so that he can eat it from the back.

He’s quick to bury his face into your pussy. His hands squeezing and molding your ass as he digs his nose against your cunt. You’re so good. So pretty, and his. This was only a lesson.

“Oh fuck..” You groan out as drool leaves your lips. Dribbling onto the seat that was smushed against your cheek as you laid there and took it. He was a bully. A hot fucking bully.

He eats you out like a starved man. Nasty noises leaving, orgasm after orgasm causing your juices to make a mess on his seats. He kept going, until finally he stops. His jaw was tired, and you were seeing stars. “You’re mine. Don’t ever pull a fucking stunt like that again.” He grunts out firmly as he plants a final smack to your plump ass.

(Jealous Eren is hot.)

[lexiecon-mp4]

Jayvik and Butterflies || Arcane Meta

The butterfly motif has put everyone into a chokehold (myself included) and has had me brainrotting so hard for the last few days that I felt compelled to make my first Arcane post.

With how repetitive the butterfly motif is within Viktor and Jayce's lives throughout Arcane, I thought it would be fitting to do a meta looking into what that symbol might mean.

So first things first; where do we see this symbol pop up? In presumed chronological order of in-universe events, here are some of the following;

1. Viktor when following his toy boat (S1E6)

2. Jayce after being saved by the mage (S1E2)

3. Mechanical butterflies shown during Progress Day (S1E4)

4. Butterfly at the Fissures when Jayce and Viktor talk about failing to "do good" (S1E9)

5. A flash frame of a butterfly appears when Jayce hits the Arcane with his hammer (S2E3)

6. The hammer itself is shaped like a butterfly after Jayce emerges from the Arcane (S2E5)

7. Viktor and Jayce vaguely form a butterfly-type shape when they sacrifice themselves (S2E9)

(If I'm missing any I apologize, but these are the memorable examples that I think embody the themes I'm going to discuss. Feel free to comment more!)

I'm not including Jinx's mechanical butterflies here since they are more reminiscent of Firelights, but it is fitting that she has taken a symbol associated with progress from Progress Day and retrofitted it to her own design, just like she does with Hextech itself. That already serves as a manifestation of how Jayce and Viktor's shared creation can lead toward a dangerous path.

Ultimately, I think there are three main themes that I believe fit both characters respectively along with their arcs.

1. METAMORPHOSIS

Viktor goes through a literal metamorphosis of his own as a result of the glorious evolution, both physically and emotionally. Like the change of a caterpillar to a butterfly, his evolution is one that he perceives to be an "improvement" on his prior form. Simultaneously, his obsession with perfection (due to his own insecurities, struggles and oppression) shifts his focus. His original ambitions to help the people of Zaun and beyond are lost as he prioritizes using the Arcane to "improve lives", even against their own will. For the final step of his evolution, he sacrifices his humanity and breaks out of his "chrysalis" as a changed man. Viktor become utterly unrecognizable to everyone, even to his own partner; until the last scene between the two.

Jayce has seen that he has become something completely different than the Viktor he knew before. But regardless, he sees him as beautiful in the context of his current "perfect" AND prior "imperfect" state. The caterpillar and butterfly are one and the same, just like the man he knew and the "Machine Herald" that stands before him. He sees under the facade (a literal mask) that Viktor wears, knowing that his partner is still there.

What distinguishes Viktor from the butterfly is that his metamorphosis doesn't end with the "glorious evolution." While the evolution was intended to be a point of no return, it was eventually shown to be another step in his ever-changing arc. Viktor doesn't revert back to his original state, but makes his sacrifice alongside Jayce because of the growth of his character. The final, glorious evolution he always wanted was in liberating everyone from the Arcane, not enslaving them.

The metamorphosis theme also applies to Jayce, as he has obviously "evolved" after touching the Arcane. Yet despite his own evolution, he never loses that humanity that allows him to keep hope for Viktor still being in there. Both of them become something more in the end. I especially love that this happens by each accepting their flaws and acknowledging one another as beautiful. Jayce would still love Vik if he was a worm the caterpillar, since that was the first and original iteration of the man he admires.

2. THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT

The butterfly effect is one of my favorite thought experiments related to chaos theory; the underlying patterns/laws of the universe's systems that seem random but are actually dependent on initial conditions. The effect argues that a simple flutter of a butterflies wings could lead to a chain of events that cause something completely different and significant. Arcane has several of these "butterflies" (e.g. the note Vander wrote for Silco) but the most prominent one yet again connects Viktor and Jayce.

Old Viktor explains that in every universe, he gave young Jayce a different rune in order to invent Hextech, presumably with the hopes of preventing the apocalypse as well. He knew that Jayce was the only one who could show him the truth about perfection, but without the right rune, he couldn't get there. It was the specific choice of an acceleration rune that allowed for the events of season two to occur. This small change gives Ekko a chance to fight back and Jayce the chance to talk it out with his partner.

(My personal theory is that the acceleration rune allowed for Ekko and Jayce to travel to a different dimension through the Arcane. This led Ekko to create the Z-Drive and gave Jayce the knowledge of his and Viktor's fates. The rune in his wrist was likely what brought him to Old Viktor in the first place. Otherwise, it's likely that Ekko, Heimer and Jayce would have been absorbed/disintegrated in the process.)

At the beginning of S2E6 Viktor describes Jayce as having "a singularity simultaneously self-replicating and self-annihilating." While the singularity seems to be driving Jayce insane and irate, it contains the chaos needed to stop the influence of the Hexcore over Viktor, Piltover, and Zaun.

In the end, both are able to intersect the "chaos and order" of the Arcane, connecting the rune embedded in Jayce's wrist with Viktor's Hexcore-ified body. The disorder of the Arcane in Jayce seemed random at first, just as the rune given to him did. Yet it was these initial conditions that determined the fates of everyone involved, including the closure that he and Viktor were able to have in the end.

The way that these two are able to break the terrible fate determined for them if they ever met, while still being able to resolve their conflicts at the end, is some extremely beautiful storytelling.

3. MIGRATION/THE JOURNEY

Finally, the act of migrating is one that I feel applies most to Jayce in season two, but also is present in Viktor's backstory and struggle against his disabilities.

There's a specific species of butterfly that migrates every fall, which are the Monarch butterflies that are native to North America. These creatures must brave difficult conditions as they travel down south to more temperate climates. It is a physically demanding trip that tests the resolve of the butterflies, which in Jayce's case, also shakes him to his core.

He has to endure many perils and pains when the Arcane transports him to the "bad ending" universe. He travels through Zaun, gets stuck in the Fissures for a while, then finally climbs the Hexgates to learn the truth about his dream. While the sufferings of the journey itself feel unnecessary, it's a path Jayce must take in the end no matter how painful. Like the monarchs, he perseveres and makes it out of there alive.

But unlike them, this difficult pilgrimage is necessary to shape Jayce's character. He essentially speed-runs Viktor's personal journey as a Zaunite; born in Zaun, being poisoned by the Fissures, and "pulling himself up by his bootstraps" all the way up to the gilded heights of Piltover. It's a perilous and painful trip, made more difficult by his injured leg. Yet when Jayce reaches the top, none of the achievements matter to Viktor in this universe. After everything he had done, there was only the empty husk of his loved one and the truth it carried that remained. His illness and "imperfections" were cured, but at what cost?

This puts everything into perspective for Jayce. At the end of his travels, he realizes what he really wants to save isn't Hextech, or his dream, but his partner. In turn, it saves the lives of everyone including that of Viktor's, who comes out of the other side of this journey loved rather than alone. Perhaps their presumed deaths aren't the most happy ending for both of them, but they certainly made it to clearer skies together.

(One last additional note: I love that the alternate universe only has dragonflies instead of butterflies; the connecting symbol between the two is missing in this universe because they couldn't save it in the end.)

So ultimately, the motif of butterflies for Jayce and Viktor represent the change, resilience and interconnectedness of the pair. Throughout the entire two seasons, this symbol follows them on their respective arcs like a red string of fate. As Viktor calls it, they are "two sides of the same coin, inextricably bound." The final two variables needed to solve the Arcane, and they could only do so together.

(i hate these guys they have irrevocably rewritten my brain chem)

Thank you for reading if you made it this far!

[hrizantemy]

It’s time to say what’s obvious but so often ignored: the Inner Circle, these supposedly wise, all-powerful beings, are over five hundred years old. That’s centuries of experience, life lessons, and power, and yet they constantly act like immature, emotional wrecks. They’ve lived through wars, court politics, and the passage of entire generations, but instead of showing the wisdom that should come with their age, they bicker like children. Feyre, Nesta, Elain, and even someone like Tarquin—who, by all accounts, is much younger—don’t have even a fraction of their life experience, and yet the Inner Circle’s behavior often doesn’t reflect any of that supposed wisdom. It’s not only frustrating but also embarrassing that they repeatedly revert to petty emotional outbursts, jealousy, and manipulation, refusing to grow past the same toxic dynamics they’ve had for centuries.

There’s simply no excuse for this kind of childish behavior when you’re over five hundred years old. By now, they should be the epitome of maturity, poise, and wisdom, but instead, they choose to stew in their own egos, dragging others down with them. Take Rhysand, for example—he constantly pushes the narrative that he’s this benevolent leader, yet he uses his wife, and her family when it suits him, all while coddling his supposed circle of warriors when they’re in the wrong. For a group that holds so much power, they act like they’re stuck in the same emotional rut, never maturing beyond their pain and petty rivalries.

Let’s get one thing straight: this isn’t about denying the Inner Circle their emotions. They’re entitled to feel, to hurt, and to carry their traumas just like anyone else. But what’s frustrating—and what I’m pointing out—is the way they handle those emotions and, more importantly, how they project them onto others, especially when it doesn’t align with their supposed maturity and experience. These are beings who have lived through centuries of hardship, war, and loss. They’ve seen entire kingdoms rise and fall, watched loved ones die, and survived unimaginable horrors. So, no, I’m not saying they need to be emotionless or stoic. I’m saying that for beings with that level of experience, their reactions, especially to those younger and less experienced than them, are bafflingly immature and often downright toxic.

Take Cassian as a prime example. You’re telling me this five-hundred-year-old man who’s been a general, who’s led soldiers into battle, and seen the worst war can bring, has the emotional capacity of a temperamental teenager when it comes to Nesta? When she, a woman clearly battling her own trauma, tells him to leave her alone, his response is to yell at her? To throw the present he wanted to give her in some kind of temper tantrum? This is a man who has seen more death, more hardship, more conflict than most people can comprehend, and yet, he can’t handle a conversation with a woman he supposedly cares about without reverting to childish behavior. Oh, poor Cassian, does he need a blankie and a bottle after someone dares challenge him or ask for space? Instead of showing any emotional intelligence or restraint, his answer is to lash out. How does that align with centuries of experience? Shouldn’t he, of all people, understand that sometimes backing off and offering quiet support is what someone needs?

It’s not about whether they can have emotions. It’s about how those emotions manifest. Cassian’s outbursts, Rhysand’s manipulations, Morrigan’s coldness—these are not signs of beings who have had centuries to learn emotional regulation. They act like they’re stuck in the emotional maturity of their youth, never evolving, never adapting, never showing the wisdom or grace you’d expect from someone with five hundred years of life behind them.

Trauma absolutely plays a part in how the Inner Circle behaves—it would be unfair to say otherwise. But here’s the problem: they hold everyone else to impossibly high standards when it comes to dealing with trauma, yet they give themselves all the room in the world to indulge in unhealthy coping mechanisms. They’re allowed to drink themselves into a stupor, sleep around, lash out, or wallow in their issues for centuries without anyone questioning it, but the moment someone else shows signs of struggle? Suddenly, the torches are lit, and it’s time to ‘fix’ them. The hypocrisy is staggering.

Take Nesta as an example. She drinks, she isolates herself, she lashes out—and yes, those behaviors are self-destructive, but they’re clear signs of someone drowning in trauma. Instead of offering her real support or even the same leniency they give themselves, they treat her like she’s a ticking time bomb that needs to be locked away until she behaves. It’s as if the moment someone else mirrors their own coping mechanisms, it becomes unacceptable. Rhysand and his Inner Circle are constantly drinking and celebrating, finding solace in excess, but that’s fine because they’ve ‘earned it,’ right? Cassian can sleep around, drink to numb his pain, and it’s brushed off as just his way of dealing. But when Nesta drinks? It’s suddenly a huge problem, a sign of her being out of control and needing to be ‘rehabilitated.’ The double standard is glaring.

It’s this hypocrisy that makes their treatment of others so frustrating. They act as though they’re the gatekeepers of who is ‘handling’ their trauma the right way. It’s perfectly fine for them to drink and fuck away their pain, to drown their sorrows in hedonism, but the minute someone else—someone younger, someone less experienced, someone like Nesta—shows even a fraction of the same behavior, they’re ready to intervene. They want to control how others process their trauma, but refuse to examine their own methods. If Nesta needs to be locked away for drinking too much, for isolating herself, then what about Cassian? What about Rhysand? What about Morrigan? Why don’t they hold themselves to the same standards? Instead, they act like they’re above it all, excusing their own vices while condemning others for the same.

[cl-0v3r]

I've definitely said this multiple times before on different platforms, but one thing that truly gets me all the time is how child-like Mel looks whenever she's upset with her mother or past (or literally any of her life choices basically.) , especially during episode 9 when she argues with Ambessa.

Her face felt more round and softened, her eyes widened and a little more shiny, her mouth really downturned. She is often so collected and poised, so the entire change in her demeanor in this scene was very clear to me yet I've never seen people talk about it before for some reason.

It's like Mel was being in her younger self's boots again in both a literal way and metaphorical, asking the question she really wanted the answer to all those years ago. She wasn't councilor Medarda here, she was just herself, Mel.

Not only that, but I think it was done to show that Mel, who has a lot of power over the council,has a higher standing than most characters we see in the show and often holds her head so high, has her moments of weakness and loss of said power when her Mother arrives. so much so you could see it visually with your own eyes, how she was often smartly placed in a way that her eyes looked down on whoever she spoke to, until Ambessa came in the picture and she instead stood higher than she is, and it just proves the fact that Mel is weak to her, that she is still but a confused child in comparison to Ambessa, it's like we see her from her Mothers eyes rather than ours.

Because she banished Mel when she was younger to piltover for a literal decade, she hadn't watched her grow up or grow at all, she didn't see her control the reins of her own life, so it would make sense that Mel is still that little girl she knew before.

It sort of reminds me of how jinx has two different faces (you can check out bridging the rift for that) , a sharper and dangerous kind and a more rounder, innocent and chidlike kind. When Vi found Jinx and got reunited with her, the softened version of her appeared as if it was Powder rather than Jinx, that she was powder again, Vis little sister. But then Caitlyn appeared and so did the firelights, and we see her get more aggressive, losing the softness, reverting back to Jinx again.

So I really do think the same thing is happening with Mel, she often has this elegant mask that she wears that makes her cunning, sly, powerful, uncontrollable, which falls down immediately once she is faced with the SAME person who had gotten her to wear that mask years ago, only for her to put it back on again, and for it to fall yet again in the end.

Although Mels main parallel is with Viktor (which i do wanna talk about in a future post), the similarities she has with Powder&Jinx is insane, considering that they're both extremely different from one another.

This might get edited soon to be written properly, I apologize for any mistakes.

[thatfreshi]

Out of Love (Astarion x reader)

Tw - death, vomiting, assisted suicide, sickness

Recommended Song: Past Hound - Adam Melchor

A couple of moons ago, you came down with a horrific illness. You and Astarion both don't know why, or how. You suspect foul play. After all, you didn't always make friends on your journeys. You wonder if perhaps you were poisoned, someone slipped something into a drink at the bar, changing the course of your life forever. The first month was like a bad flu, high fever, vomiting almost every day, barely able to eat. Over time though, your body started to ache. Astarion knew it was getting bad when you fell in the kitchen, breaking one of his favorite glasses. At first he was enraged, so angry that you could be so careless with one of his prized posessions. Then, he turned the corner and saw you lying on the floor, and quickly reverted his previous sentiments.

You don't remember exactly how long it's been. About two months in, Astarion told Shadowheart and Halsin to come over, realizing this was not going to go away on its own. They, tried, everything. Shadowheart went into a frenzy, reading up on everything she could, trying spells she had never cast before. Halsin got ahold of every other druid he knew in the city, to no avail. Everyone was clueless. The only thing they could determine is that this illness was man-made.

"So some bastard did try to finally get me, huh?"

You smile a little at your own comment, wincing at the pain it brings you. Astarion glares, not at you, but at the idea that someone would do this to you.

"Not funny my sweet."

It's now been four months. Astarion has tried his best to keep up with all the care you need, but it has turned both of your lives to shambles. Eventually he invited all your old companions over, to stay for a while, as they wanted to help with your illness. Despite the fact that he could barely stay awake at times, he would watch over you for hours on end, sometimes twenty at a time, until someone like Lae'zel dragged him out of your room to go lie down.

Gale has cooked every meal for all of you since you've gotten worse. He tries his best to make things from your childhood, things you'd find comforting. Shadowheart and Halsin continue to research your sickness, finding nothing. Wyll, Karlach, and Lae'zel take turns with Astarion, keeping watch over you, tending to your every need. At this point, you can barely get up most days, either from pain or lack of energy. Despite this, you can't ever sleep. If you do manage to drift off, it's for thirty minutes or so, and then you're jolted awake by some pain.

One day though, you're awoken by Astarion and Halsin arguing.

"I'm telling you Astarion, there is nothing I can do. Tav is going to pass. I don't know how soon, but I would start getting things in order."

He tries to hold back tears, to be good with his bedside manner, but it's almost impossible when Astarion keeps yelling back at him, desperate.

"Tav is not going to die. It's not time yet, you have to do something!"

"Please, Astarion. I don't want to fight with you. I know this is hard to hear, but it's over. There's nothing more we can do. There is no cure."

He tenses, ready to spit some nasty sentence about how he must be some great druid if he can't even heal people, but he refrains, wiping at his eyes. He storms off to his study, as all of your friends watch it unfold.

"I knew he was going to react like that."

Gale says sadly, looking down at the floor.

"I'll go take watch, give him some time."

And with that, Karlach comes into your room. You pretend to be asleep.

After a few agonizing hours, it's evening. Karlach brought you some soup that you couldn't bring yourself to even try eating. As the sun sets, Astarion is in the doorway, a grim look in his eyes. Without saying anything, Karlach takes her leave, giving him an understanding nod that you don't see.

When your lover makes his way to the bed, he lies down next to you, locking eyes with your tired gaze. It's as if you've been beaten twelve times over, the bags under your eyes have gotten so dark.

"Hello my sweet."

He smiles softly, trying to hide the sorrow, trying to shelter you from the news Halsin gave him.

"Hello my love."

You smile back, a little bit of pain and pressure in your face at the attempt.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

You snuggle into his side, trying not to move too much. He meets you halfway.

"I'm just... I'm so tired."

"I know darling... I know."

"No, Astarion. I'm tired of this."

"As am I. Shadowheart and Halsin are working steady as always, they'll find something."

You shake your head, a movement he can feel against his chest.

"No. No I... I heard."

You're exhausted, the air barely leaving your lungs.

"Heard what my dear?"

He's not good at playing dumb, the crack in his voice giving it all away. He hadn't thought about the argument, that you would've heard the two of them yelling about how you're going to die.

"What Halsin... what he told you."

And the tears well in his eyes instantly. He thought he wouldn't have to tell you, that he could keep this sacred thing going, that he could hold you without you needing to know it could all go away so quickly. You hear him sniffle, clearly trying to hold back.

"We don't know it's true Tav, they could still find something. They could be wrong."

His throat is coated in desperation, every word stabbing through your brain, trying to find something in you that believes him, even if he doesn't believe himself.

"They've been at it for months my love. I think it's over."

He grips you a little tighter, wishing for your existence, trying to hold the wind back from the embers of a long-gone flame. You both stay silent for a minute, as you try to work up the courage to ask him something. Something you're not even sure he'll say yes to, but you try.

"I want you to feed on me."

He scoffs, almost angrily.

"No my dear, not while you're sick. You need everything you can get.."

You shake a little, perhaps from the never-ending fever, or maybe from the fear, or the pain.

"No. I mean I want you to feed on me until I'm gone."

He tenses, shocked by your request.

"You... you what?"

You start to tear up, which only brings more pain.

"I'm just so tired Aster, and I've fought for so long. I want it to be over. I'm ready for it to be over, please."

You can barely make it through the end of your sentence without choking up.

"I can't do that, I- I won't!"

He sits up to look at you.

"You can't give up, not like this. There's still time, we still have time."

You reach out for his hand, and he obliges. As you squeeze you fingers into the back of his hand, you ask him one of the hardest questions he's ever had to answer.

"What, so you can watch me continue to suffer?"

He hadn't thought of it, that if this was horrific, how much worse could it get? How long was soon? Even Halsin didn't know how much time, not even an estimate, just... soon. He doubles down.

"No! So that, that maybe you can get better! That we can find the bastard that did this and make him cough up the cure. Maybe we can-"

"Astarion!"

You hadn't yelled for weeks, mustering up everything in your body to overpower his pleading voice. The tears continue to fall down his face, and he leans over, bringing your hand to his face.

"I can't Tav. I can't kill you. You're asking me to destroy the only thing I've ever loved, I-"

The thought of it makes him feel like throwing up, the thought of doing something like that to you. Forever ago he tried feasting on your blood in the middle of the night, long before you fell in love. And when you woke up to a strange man, a monster trying to steal your life force, you were kind. You let him drink from you, and every time he needed to after that.

"I love you so much, and I know you love me so much deeper than I could ever imagine, and I am asking you to do one last thing for me, out of love. I don't want to die to some unknown disease that's been ravaging my body, to pass in my sleep without so much as a thought. I want to die with you, right here, while everyone sleeps, where we can be alone one last time."

It's hard to argue with you, but Astarion feels as though ending your life is hardly an act of love. Mortal lives are already so fleeting, and yet you are asking him to cut it even shorter, to let you go. He meets your eyes again.

"Can I at least go slow?"

"As slow as you'd like."

You weakly smile, and he realizes there is no more considering your offer. This is what you want, and only he can give it to you.

"Okay."

He leans down to kiss you, slowly making his way to your throat, hesitating at first.

"I love you more than you'll ever know."

No pet names, no antics, no fluff. It's the first time you think he's ever said something so serious about how in love with you he is.

"I love you too Astarion."

And it's rare that you ever call each other by your first names. He shivers a little, saying you love 'Astarion' and not 'your sweet' or 'your love.' With your declarations out of the way, he pierces your skin with his fangs, slower than usual. Feeding from you is almost always a rabid act, desperate, feral. He's reserved, savoring every moment, knowing this is it, the last time he'll taste your blood, the last time he'll hold you in his arms, the last time you'll lie in this bed together. When the cold subsides and the numbness takes over, you're at peace for the first time in a long time. All you feel is the slow lapping of your blood, and his grasp tight around you. It feels like forever to you, but moments for him. As the flowing river becomes smaller, the tiniest drops coming out of your neck, he feels your body start to go limp, your skin start to get cold. He fulfills your request despite how much he's hurting, and he drinks until there is nothing left, until you're gone.

A wail echoes through the house, waking up your companions as they rush to see what's happened. As Shadowheart is the first to reach the doorway, she sees Astarion clutching your body, sobbing hysterically. She gets up next to him, clamoring on, asking what happened. He can barely speak, and the rest watch in silence.

"Tav- I- I had to- they wanted me to-"

Guilt-ridden, terrified of what he's done despite you pleading with him minutes ago, Astarion can only stutter the same phrases over and over again.

"I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry. I- I didn't want to- please."

"Hey, it's okay. Astarion. Astarion?"

Shadowheart notices the blood all over his mouth and the sheets, and the two perfect pin pricks in your neck, realizing what he's done. Astarion looks up for a moment, still clutching your dead body in his hands. And then, he points at Halsin.

"YOU. You fool, Tav heard us, they heard what you said. They gave up because of you. I had to kill them because of you..."

He starts to sob again, losing the rage, overcome with a sorrow that is inexplainable. Halsin only stays silent, knowing these are words of grief and not truth.

"Get out."

Halsin starts to step aside, believing the comment to be about him. When no one else moves, Astarion's eyes dart across the room at everyone, almost manic.

"Get out, all of you. GET OUT."

"Astarion, you can't-"

Gale is cut off by what is such a guttural scream, he can hardly believe it came from the vampire.

"LEAVE."

He comes back to your body, sobbing into flesh that no longer feels.

"Just please leave me alone..."

Shadowheart quietly gets off the bed, ushering everyone out of the room, softly closing the door behind her. Astarion can barely hear the murmurs outside the bedroom door, as he begins muttering to your lifeless corpse.

"I'm so sorry my dear... I'm so sorry. I should've done more, I should've told you to stay, I-"

He can't find the words, relentlessly blaming himself for your choice, wondering if there was any way to get around this. His mind wanders to that first month, when you dropped his wine glass, how he yelled from the other room, how he scolded you for being careless with his things, and he realizes how stupid life is. Nothing matters, a wine glass doesn't matter, you matter. And you were the only thing that ever mattered.

Hours go by, and dusk turns to dawn. Eventually, Gale comes back to the door, knocking softly.

"I'm coming in."

He's met with Astarion still, lying with your body, the blood crusted on the sheets, and his bloodshot eyes. It's as if he barely moved.

"I think... I think it's time."

While Gale wishes that Astarion could stay by your side forever, he knows your corpse will start to change soon, to become worse and worse as the hours pass by. It takes him forever to pry your lover from your side, eventually leading him to the living room, where he lies on the sofa, curled up, as Halsin begins to prepare your body.

[obsidianscythe]

[thalassaschel] Roundtable Hold was not a place she had expected to return to. Not since the burning of the Erdtree. Not since the death of... Radagon... Marika... The slaying of the Elden Beast within the Erdtree. And the Lunar Princess' departure to the stars.

For better or for worse, Schel had remained... The Lands Between were in for a long winter, and she had decided to stay behind. To help the people of the Lands Between as best as she could, as well as offer long-needed aid to the Omen, the Misbegotten, and the Albinaurics.

She had ingrained Miquella's vision of a gentler world upon her heart. Or... So she had thought... It wasn't until she had met Lady Leda and Sir Ansbach that she had begun to second guess what exactly Miquella had envisioned. And then there was everything that happened afterward. Trina. Radahn. Mohg...

The blue-clad warrior looked down from the balcony. Even now, Ansbach remained at his lord's side.

'I'd do anything to make amends, in whatever meager way I can.'

Old man really did go above and beyond for his lord...

With a sigh, she gripped the wood railings, and flung herself off from the balcony, landing with light feet on the level below. And she approached Ansbach.

For a moment she could not help but look upon the Lord of Blood. He was yet unmoving, clad in the battered armor of gold worn by the consort of Miquella... And the mane of red that flowed from the back of a horn-bedecked head.

That certainly wasn't there when she had first met the Lord of Blood, brooding over his withered cocoon...

"... How is he?" She asked at last. From what she could tell, there had been no movement from the large omen since his soul returned.

He did not expect to survive the battle, even less so to win. But ultimately, the have defeated Miquella and his consort. And somehow... his lord's soul returned into the now-abandoned vessel.

Ansbach had been by his side ever since. He may have inhabited his body once more, and it had more or less reverted to his true appearance, but the injuries he sustained in the battle were severe. The old knight was very worried...

The Roundtable, at least, was a safe place. The blacksmith didn't mind their presence, and the young spirit tuner was friendly.

Ansbach tried, carefully, to remove the armour. The helmet was broken and easy to remove, but the rest proved difficult, with his lord unconscious. He managed to take off the chains, at least.

"He's alive... I hope he can recover."

Yet, who could tell how his lord would feel, after being so cruelly betrayed by the one he loved? Miquella, for all his supposed compassion, had no qualms about deceiving him and using him...

He sighed, and tried to make his lord as comfortable as he could.