#My legacy is forever tainted

[viaphni]

its all my fault 💀

🌸

[fandisease]

Top ten things you did NOT want to see on your feed

[risingscorchingsuns]

hi guys it’s 5am and im having a mental breakdown so here’s some rengoku family analysis

kyojuro and shinjuro eternally two sides of the same coin. he may not have realized it, but both his parents died when ruka did. he grew up without a father, except his father is right there in the other room. he had to be the father for senjuro. he HAD to be, because Shinjuro wasn’t gonna do it. in his own words, “Senjuro has it even worse than I.” Kyojuro had to protect those weaker than him, had to be strong. Being strong was the only thing that gave him control. The only thing that made him feel worthwhile.

Kyojuro died without a dad. He died not knowing that Shinjuro would ever regret his actions. He died without the father he’s always been deprived of. But he still loved Shinjuro because it’s the only father he has. even though shinjuro failed him fundamentally. neglected him, abused him, scorned him. abandoned him utterly and completely. Kyojuro never stopped loving him because he’s his father’s son.

Kyojuro saw himself in Shinjuro. In ways that both inspired and terrified him. The death of Ruka, Shinjuro’s reaction, Kyojuro being so young. Shinjuro taught him how to grieve, whether he meant to or not. Both of them bury their pain, shove it all away into a place that will never be seen. The difference is Kyojuro grew up watching Shinjuro’s pain eat him alive, and started to bury his own in positivity. In strength. Finding his purpose in being strong, in supporting others. But at the end of the day, he is his father’s son. He’s still not allowing himself to feel grief. He’s still not allowing himself to rest. Because what is he if he isn’t strong? Who is Kyojuro, if he isn’t the Flame Hashira Rengoku?

Kyojuro is simultaneously determined to both reinspire his father, and to never turn out like him. He loved the man that Shinjuro was, the man that Kyojuro needed, the man that he died without. He was determined not to turn out the same way, to let his flames burn forever, until they burned him alive if they had to. To never give up the way his father did, to never let anyone down the way his father did. To never fail anyone, the way his father failed him. So he buries his pain in responsibility. No time to fail if you just never stop burning. He can’t let his grief taint him like it did his father. even in his final words he believed that. the flow of time waits for no one. it wont stand patiently by as you grieve. and while those words in of themselves are incredibly powerful, and an important lesson, i believe kyojuro internalized them to an unhealthy degree.

but while the words are something kyojuro lives by, in an ironic twist of fate he’s still a lot like Shinjuro himself. in his efforts to not turn out like him he’s done the same thing. he pushed aside his pain, held himself together so tightly. because he can never let anybody see that he’s hurting. he can never let anybody see that he’s anything less than Flame Hashira Rengoku, infallible pillar of strength and passion. kyojuro is always smiling when he looks at others. when he looks at senjuro. he’s keeping himself together so tightly. because he has to. because nobody else is going to do it. because if he doesn’t hold himself together he has nothing, he’s a mirror image of his father. they are two sides of the same coin. Kyojuro desperately yearning for the man Shinjuro used to be, while subconsciously determined not to turn into the man he is. and he stubbornly clings to that forever in hopes that he’ll be the one to inspire him, that he can bring shinjuro back. if he’s just strong enough. if hes just good enough. if he just works a little harder he can have his father back.

Heavy are the shoulders that wear the Flame Hashira haori. Heavy is the Rengoku family legacy.

i have no idea if this is coherent at ALL, it’s definitely not my best analysis, i havent proofread and its five in the morning lol. maybe when im more rested ill come back to this and do a proper essay with sources and context, but for now here’s some unpolished stream of consciousness ramblings with zero editing. kyojuro rengoku daddy issues i know what you are

[kassian-ck]

Since we're all gonna die (Cobra Kai s6 p3 coming out soon), I feel like there's one more secret I have to share with you.

I do not want Miguel to become captain of Cobra Kai and win the sekai taikai. Nor for Johnny to get Cobra Kai back.

Do not like it, do not like the way leaks presume they're going to get it. And much less that Robby is honestly going the get the short end of the stick again by getting a career changing injury especially after the 8 minute leak that came out. I'm a sucker for stories that highlight how life doesn't go as expected including lifelong dreams, but I think Robby has had enough of that bro 😭 I've seen pretty much everyone voice their distaste in this part, but I haven't seen much about Miguel so you know me 🫶

So for me, this is not something that favors Miguel as a character at all. Becoming a replacement for a spot that he likely didn't do anything to earn I think completely diminishes the effort he put into trying to become captain in the first place. Who knows how it may happen when my guess is that Yoon will take Kwon's place, kinda tricky to take the spot of a dead kid too imo. Cobra Kai has impacted Miguel in more ways than just a shift in his attitude and idealogy. It's easily part of the reason why he experienced a near-death experience in the first place. So for him to return to a dojo that literally changed his life for the worst, alongside the guy that has audibly said that Cobra Kai will always be tainted by Kreese's legacy is such a nasty character assassination for both Miguel and Johnny. Miguel doesn't need to be captain to be on top and to succeed. The way that he's become Robby's right hand man after everything they've gone through is too good to be taken away man, come on.

EDIT: I be always posting without finishing my thoughts man istg. But wanting to add about Robby — If the writers are trying to have Robby's arc be that he defeats all odds even after everything he's gone through, giving him another injury is not the way to send that message. It would genuinely be much more powerful if they allow Robby to keep the captaincy he won fair and square and show him succeed after feeling like everything in his life was against him. It doesn't have to be everything he has left, but it could show that somebody's past does not define their future. It's the absolute conclusion of his series-long arc, and I think there's no better way of doing him justice than giving him a win on the top after starting from rock bottom.

I have a TINY amount of faith that they have been playing with us all this time and everyone will actually stay in Miyagi Do, giving both Robby and Miguel the ending they deserve and have Tory ACTUALLY fight along side everyone finally, but at this point, I can't expect anything else. At least it doesn't seem that Sam actually quits karate forever and becomes just a cheerleader on the sidelines.

Maybe.

(I know I criticize the show a lot but I'm gonna miss it a lot 🤧)

[wisteria-lodge]

Speaking of Tom's parents why does Tom hate his father when it's his mother who tainted his blood by being with Tom Sr? The reason he became a halfblood was because of her, her bloodline was even among the best, although the Gaunts have fallen they are still part of the sacred 28 and Slytherin's bloodline. But why not blame his mother? (Ignoring the if Merope didn't do that to Tom Sr Tom Jr won't exist anyway) or is this because of JKR's mother's can't do wrong and are the best bs?

I mean, Tom does also hate his mother. Back when he's an orphan who doesn't know anything about his parents, he primarily hates his mother, because he resents her for dying, and has convinced himself that she must be a muggle because she died?

“Was my father a wizard? He was called Tom Riddle too, they’ve told me. (...) My mother can’t have been magic, or she wouldn’t have died,” said Riddle, more to himself than Dumbledore.

Tom does some research, and tracks down both the Gaunts and the Riddles, and I have to imagine that in both cases he is... kinda disappointed? But he also steals the Gaunt ring and makes it into a Horcrux. So it's like he's *claiming* this family heirloom. It's his now, not theirs. He is the REAL gaunt heir.

(Tom has a FASCINATION with heirlooms, and enjoys low-key stealing them away from their original families. We see him go to a LOT of trouble to get his hands on Hepzibah Smith's Hufflepuff heirloom, the Slytherin locket, and Ravenclaw's diadem. I also think that if he was planning on making his sixth and final horcrux with Harry's death, the object he was planning to turn into a soul-container was almost certainly Gryffindor's sword.)

We see Tom's pattern of kill the relative, keep the legacy when he murders his father and paternal grandparents... but keeps the house. Other families move in, but quickly move out. It's very possible he cursed it like he cursed the Defense position - this thing SHOULD have been his, but isn't, and if he can't have it no one else can. Circa Book 4 the house stands empty, and the official story is it's kept vacant by a wealthy man for "tax reasons." Honestly I think it would be hilarious if Lucius technically owns it, but either way, Tom clearly has control of and USES the Riddle house. He finds his family and absorbs anything about them that he finds cool or impressive. Then, deletes all the aspects he doesn't like (his father's name, his father's looks, the family members themselves...)

This is the point where he makes the diary, and frames the situation like this:

You think I was going to use my filthy Muggle father’s name forever? I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother’s side? I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch?

and then, as an adult:

My mother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when she told him what she was. . . . He didn’t like magic, my father . . . He left her and returned to his Muggle parents before I was even born, Potter, and she died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised in a Muggle orphanage . . . but I vowed to find him . . . I revenged myself upon him, that fool who gave me his name . . . Tom Riddle. . . .

Which is definitely... a way to interpret what actually happed, Tom.

What this says to me is that he's locked onto Merope pretty much by default. She's the only family member he's never met, and so he can't be as viscerally repelled by her as he is by his father, grandparents, and uncle. But I imagine he probably does think she was weak for dying, weak for having her head turned by a handsome muggle, and for loving him enough even after he left to name her son after him. Tom is not a terribly well-adjusted person.

I actually think it's harder to find people who he DOESN'T hate. Even when he plays the charmer during his Borgin and Burkes' era, he doesn't LIKE any of these people. Slughorn he might respect a little... but probably mostly sees him as pathetic and easily manipulated. Dumbledore scares him. (Dumbledore also gives Tom a hard time for calling his Death Eaters "friends.") And when it comes to his "slippery friend" Lucius, and even Bellatrix... Tom thinks they're stupid and careless:

"It would be prudent to alert Snape to the fact that the boy might try to reenter the castle . . . To tell Snape why the boy might return would be foolish, of course; it had been a grave mistake to trust Bellatrix and Malfoy: Didn’t their stupidity and carelessness prove how unwise it was ever to trust?"

I am sure there are some fantastic Bellatrix/Voldemort fics out there, but I do think as a *canon ship,* it's really hard to make it work without leaning into the toxicity BIG time. He doesn't respect her, and bullies her for fun. That might be why she's just absent from the Cursed Child, even though she's MASSIVELY important to the plot. It was just too hard to do an on-screen canon Bellatrix/Voldemort interaction.

Barty Crouch Jr. seems to be the only person who Voldemort actually LIKES, and actually TRUSTS (even snape, he only like... half-likes, and half-trusts.) It is baffling there are only 47 Barty Crouch jr./Voldemort works on AO3. This is how he talks about Barty when he's plotting his return:

"By that time, my faithful servant will have rejoined us — (...) I need somebody with brains, somebody whose loyalty has never wavered"

And this is how he talks about him to the assembled Death Eaters:

"one, who remains my most faithful servant, and who has already reentered my service (...) it was though his efforts that our young friend [Harry] arrived here tonight...

and this is how BARTY talks about HIM

“My master came for me (...) My master had found out that I was still alive (...) my master knew that I was still his faithful servant — perhaps the most faithful of all (...) He needed me. He arrived at our house near midnight. My father answered the door.” The smile spread wider over Crouch’s face, as though recalling the sweetest memory of his life. (...) “It was very quick. My father was placed under the Imperius Curse by my master. (...) And I was released. I awoke. I was myself again, alive as I hadn’t been in years.” (...) “He asked me whether I was ready to risk everything for him. I was ready. It was my dream, my greatest ambition, to serve him, to prove myself to him."

like... I'm just saying. Barty calls him "Master" every other sentence.. And the DADDY issues here? off the chart! Barty was mind controlled by his cold, abusive neglectful father and then RESCUED by Voldemort?

"I will be honored beyond all other Death Eaters. I will be his dearest, his closest supporter . . . closer than a son. . . . The Dark Lord and I (...) have much in common. Both of us, for instance, had very disappointing fathers . . . very disappointing indeed. Both of us suffered the indignity, Harry, of being named after those fathers. And both of us had the pleasure . . . the very great pleasure . . . of killing our fathers to ensure the continued rise of the Dark Order!”

There's just so much here!!! why are there 6,676 works shipping Barty Jr./Evan Rosier, and 1,618 shipping Barty Jr./Regulus Black, but everyone is sleeping on toxic daddy issues D/s Barty Jr./Tom Jr.???

(this post... may have gotten away from me a little, I apologize.)

[commiearabgirll]

On this day, April 25th, 142 years ago, Marshal of the USSR Semyon Mikhailovich Budyonny was born.

One of the original five marshals of the USSR, the only man Zhukov ever acknowledged as better than himself, the most loyal to Stalin even after his death and the hater Khrushchev couldn't get rid of because he was too much of an icon ✨️✨️✨️ This man has the most iconic hat of the red army, an entire breed of horses, and countless villages, farms, factories and hospitals named after him throughout the former USSR to this very day. Remembered fondly by his friends, Comrades, grandchildren and subordinates alike as a firm yet incredibly gentle and caring man despite being through the worst things a human could go through time and time again, from poverty to war to civil unrest to losing many friends (and two wives). Coming from the most humble of backgrounds, living through poverty most of his life, a veteran of 4 wars from 1905 to 1922 and a Marshal of the bloodiest war Russia has ever seen. Holder of the complete set of St.George crosses, three hero of the USSR medals, eight order of Lenin medals, and six orders of the red banner, Semyon Mikhailovich has proven himself time and time again as a true leader of men, and though he joined the party much later than his comrades, he fought for the soviet cause until the very end. And despite everything he's been through, despite the mockery from enemies and "comrades" alike because of his origins, despite the lies of bourgeois historians trying to taint his legacy, Semyon Budyonny was, and will forever be, a true man and a true legend. Happy 142th birthday my love. They hate you because they can't be you ♡

[arkhospheleteon]

The herald stepped forward and announced the king's arrival, effectively killing every conversation in the throne room. Lords, ladies, knights, and every other soul present sank to their knees. The usurper stopped by the massive wooden doors, eyeing the room with disdain, not oblivious to the grim look on their faces. His boots scuffed along the wooden floor in slow, measured steps. The rhythmic noise reverberated through the silent hall, adding to the daunting atmosphere. Once he settled on the throne, the herald commanded all to rise. Two knights standing behind the royal chair stepped forward, one carrying a crown forged from blackened iron. It was official: Edwin had conquered the kingdom. And yet, his victory brought him no satisfaction. It felt empty — lacking the support of nobles or the masses. His reputation was forever tainted. Kinslayer is what they called him for ending his half-brother’s life with his bare hands. No matter how hard he tried to bury the past, he would always be the man who killed their beloved king. The only thing preventing a rebellion was the prince — his nephew, who one day would have ascended the throne and continued his father's legacy. Edwin imprisoned him and kept him alive as leverage. As long as his subjects stayed in line, no harm would fall upon the prince. After voicing his frustration to an advisor, he was given one solution for his popularity problem: to take the prince in marriage. His nephew would gain the title of king consort, placing him below the usurper. A grand wedding would be appreciated by all. Nothing like a big celebration to win over the public. The king visited the prince’s chambers to personally inform him of their union. And to make sure he understood the importance of accepting his role in the ploy. So far, Edwin had made sure his nephew was comfortable, even locking him up in his own chambers. But if he were to be challenged, he would have no issue changing his accommodations to a cold cell and employing a few torturers to ensure complete misery. “ Do you understand your situation, my dear nephew? ” He held the boy's chin up, locking their eyes. “ Believe me. I take no pleasure in this. But I have no other choice. Be good and you will leave this prison. ”

@writtenbystitch.

[twopoppies]

May I share some grieving thoughts from someone who has walked this road too many times for folks who may not have been through this before?

It is okay to feel how you feel, and there is no rhyme or reason to it. Your feelings are valid for you, and may not match what others are going through at the same time or at all, and it is okay. The only way out is through. Sometimes all you can do is the next right thing. And that is enough.

It is okay to box those feelings up for short periods of relief: just don’t leave them shoved away permanently. The only way out is through. But taking a time out is okay.

The loss and pain of the moment does not taint the past, in the long term. It may feel like it, but time and perspective will remind you what a gift the journey before was. That joy, love, growth while the person was alive is still valid and important and shaped who you are today. It is okay to celebrate that. It is okay if it is bittersweet. We honor the person by keeping that journey intact. They impacted us, and that is an important thing to honor in their story. Watch the videos. Replay the conversations. Celebrate what was. Don’t give death the power to ruin their positive impact on you.

Just like their absence hurts you, if you fall into being absent in your life because of the pain, you are causing your loved ones that same pain. Choose to honor the deceased’s life by loving yours fully, by being that light you are missing for the people in your life like the deceased was for you. I try to be thankful for the things I get to experience, even without them, because I am going to experience the hell out of them and then someday tell him about all the stuff he missed out on. Even though I believe he is here and sees.

Don’t perpetuate the pain, or initiate a legacy of withdrawal. Pick an honoring activity - for me it is tipping outrageously in their memory and finding joy in the joy they would have found in it. Make it something they championed, or took quiet pleasure in. Keep it to yourself, something between you and their memory. Walk a shelter dog and chat with your person, hide hug rocks, donate read books to the library, serve in a food center. Whatever makes you recall the bond you felt. And love people, for you and for them. The best legacy is one of love and joy, not sorrow and hurt.

Of course, it will be up and down. It strive for the up. Time does heal, and it DOES get better. Don’t let the negative win. Don’t let rot taint their life. OneDirection will never be the same. But it still meant a lot, and that should be honored. It can still mean a lot going forward, and that is honoring.

It has been 5 years since my last big loss. It catches me by surprise sometimes still. But their story is done, and mine goes on: I still reach for the joy I had in getting to be a part of their story. I refuse to lose that too. Because people are involved in my story now. I am still a part of theirs. And I don’t want them to have this hurt of me dropping out of my story: And I let him live on in my adventures, my good work with disadvantaged people, and my love for the people and world I am in. That is the only thing I can still give them, and with time, I am able to do that more and more.

It hurts. It hurts so much. It feels like I can’t breathe, like it overwhelms everything I do, and like I just want to hug his momma so much it causes me physical pain. But each day, it will get a little better. It will blindside you, may catch you by surprise, and that is okay. Because estoy know it won’t be like this forever.

Anyway. I thought grief was a straight line process, and if I power through the stages, it would be done with. That I was betraying their memories by laughing, finding joy, continuing my story. I hope this helps anyone feeling unsure or overwhelmed or lost or guilty.

Thank you for all of this, darling. I'm so sorry you have so much experience with grieving. But your insight is so helpful. ❤️

[bloodlust-1]

The Consort ₊⁺જ⁀➴

NSWF | Explicit 18+ | Angst | Blood | Ascended Astarion | Spawn Tav | Dark | Smut | Trauma | Stockholm Syndrome | Violence

Ascended Astarion x fem Tav

Chapter: 6 | Please Don’t Go

Summary: In a tumultuous tale of love, power, and betrayal, Tav finds herself entangled in a complex relationship with Astarion, a heartless vampire lord who will stop at nothing to maintain control over his newfound spawn. As Tav witnesses Astarion’s transformation and descent into darkness, their love is put to the ultimate test amidst love triangles, drama, and the pursuit of world domination. Redemption seems like an elusive goal while Tav grapples with the realization of who her lover has truly become.

UPDATED EVERY MONDAY.

Notes: Hi, hi 🫶🏼 back again for another chapter - let’s get this shit started

posting couple hours early bc of work ^^

AO3 LINK | MASTER LIST

Lovely photo by @astarionposting

Tav and Astarion arrived back home a day later from the lively party in Waterdeep, and Astarion was unusually quiet as they made their way inside their home.

Without uttering a word, Astarion disappeared into his study, completely in his own silence. It was like he was in deep thought and Tav was no interruption.

She sighed.

He seems like something's on his mind...Maybe being home again made the reality of his ascension real each time he came back to this damned palace without a problem.

Tav put down her coat and followed Astarion into his study, where she found him sitting in a luxurious chair, fists against his mouth, staring aimlessly into the fireplace.

He was in one of his moods.

In a gentle tone, “Is everything alright?” Tav took a few steps and stood beside him. Leaning over slightly, her eyes tried to get a peek at his face.

Astarion remained motionless, his eyes still fixed on the flickering flames. Without turning to look at Tav, he spoke lowly, “How would you feel if I shared my gift? Eternal life. In exchange, spawn will serve us, carrying out tasks that others would shy away from.”

Tav’s laughed nervously, her head tilting slightly in disbelief. “Is that what that woman wanted from you..?” she asked, trying to make sense of his words.

A moment of silence passed before Astarion shook his head slowly. He straightened up from his position and moved closer to the fireplace, feeling the warmth caress his pale skin. “No,” he replied quietly.

“It appears that I was not the only person trying to kill Cazador,” Astarion continued, his eyes narrowing as he recalled recent events. “Although her attempt was unsuccessful, she did plant a seed of thought in my mind.”

Turning to face Tav directly, Astarion’s gaze bore into hers. “We could amass an army of our own kind, create more like us, and crush any mortal foolish enough to oppose our rule. The legacy of House Ancunin shall be one of power and dominance.”

Tav bit her lip and averted her gaze from him. She knew he was set on this but that woman. Something didn't feel right about her, "More like us...? I don’t want there to be anyone else. I want it to be just me and you, not create another house of spawns!”

Tav could feel Astarion's gaze on her. Admittedly, her possessiveness over him touched him for a brief moment.

Tav instantly tried to justify herself, "Look at Cazador's downfall. I don't want you to end up like him, I only worry for you Astarion..."

He snapped quickly, "I am NOT Cazador. I am better than him."

Tav scuffed, “Bend, break, and manipulate all the petty royals you want, but I will not share my home with any spawn.”

Astarion rolled his eyes, "You’re quite set on this aren’t you?" He walked up to Tav, challenging her with eyes like daggers, "You do know, your future is mine to control."

"You are mine. Aeterna Amantes - Lovers forever, until the world falls down." his fingers traced her jawline while his eyes burned into hers.

Astarion’s words were tainted with ownership and control. It was not a promise of equal love, but a statement of possession, "If I wanted to burn this world to the ground, make everyone kneel at my feet, you will be there by my side.”

The tingle of his soft touch grazed her jaw, opposite to his tainted words.

She stared at him with hurt in her eyes...How unbelievable, this was not the person Tav thought he was. "Is this all you care about - Power? What about us?" Tav took a couple steps away from him, shaking her head. To think he would want anything more out of Tav now.

I want us to be happy.

I want it all. I want to travel the world. I want a family, not a dictatorship.

Did I make a mistake?

“You already possess everything, yet you fail to recognize it!” Tav yelled, watching as Astarion’s chest rose and fell with frustration.

Astarion sighed in annoyance. How could she be so foolish and not understand the endless possibilities?

"It's not enough! I will not be that weak spawn I once was," Astarion got closer to Tav with each syllable he harshly spat.

Tav took a step back, her eyes wide with realization.

"I'll...never be enough for you. You will never be...the Astarion I met when he had nothing, only love to give me." Her voice cracked with hurt and anger.

Tav gestured towards him with her eyes glossed in hurt, "And look at you now."

Astarion puffed his chest out, his eyes gleaming with pride. “I am a vampire ascendant. I am powerful.”

Tav shook her head, “No, Astarion. I just want you to respect my opinions too as your consort! You are not Cazador. And I will not become like you.”

His eyes flickered for a moment, softening to her statement. The way her words hit into him landed a little too close to home. For a moment, sympathy was in his stare.

It hurt him deeply. For her to stare at him the way he used to stare at Cazador.

Tav was enough.

Tav’s hands dropped to her sides in defeat. The tears in her eyes threatened to fall but she tried to stay strong. Tav didn't want to be weak in front of him. She started to storm off from Astarion, but he quickly questioned her with desperation.

Astarion’s voice cracked with hurt suddenly, "Where are you going?" His chest felt like it was collapsing in with furrowed brows.

“Out.” She pushed past Astarion, her face flushed a deep red with boiling anger.

Astarion’s breath hitched, his anger starting to rise with grief. How could she...How dare she?

The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly as he yelled out to Tav, grasping her arm and pulling her back towards him. “WHERE THE HELLS ARE YOU GOING?”

Tav stumbled over her feet, attempting to break free from Astarion’s grasp. This frightened her...she'd never seen him like this before.

Tav cried out, ripping her arm away and breaking free from his hold. “Stop it!”

She couldn’t leave. She belonged to him. The thought of Tav walking away tore at him, constricting his throat and leaving him gasping for air. His lungs ripped out Tav’s name repeatedly.

“You can’t leave me!” Astarion's eyes went wet with rage.

The room went dizzy for Astarion. The reality of his actions started to weigh heavy at that moment. His head was running a thousand miles away to a dark place.

Don't go.

Don't leave me alone with myself.

He followed sternly after Tav, quickly reaching out for her wrist.

I need you.

Please.

Suddenly, something within Tav seemed to snap, and her eyes glowed into a deep yellow. Her druid form took over her body, taking on an animalistic appearance with claws extending from her fingertips.

In one swift motion, Tav’s hand swiped back through the air, perfectly connecting with Astarion’s face. He released her wrist immediately.

He clutched his own face with a pained groan. Astarion looked down at his bloodied palm in shock and disbelief. She scratched me.

Tav’s eyes instantly reverted back to their pale white, and she gasped at the sight of what she had just done. Her stomach knotted when she trailed the droplets of blood drip off his jaw.

She blinked repeatedly, trying to come to the reality of what just happened.

Tav reached out her hand to Astarion, "I -...Oh gods, Astarion I'm s-so..." Astarion cut Tav off and recoiled in anger and disbelief.

He stared at her coldly and menacing, causing Tav to shrink back in fear.

“Go,” Astarion growled through gritted teeth, averting his gaze from her. “Get out of my sight.”

Without a word more Tav sniffled and walked out of the room with tears running down her face.

Fuck.

Tav didn't mean to hurt him. She wasn't even sure what had just taken over her, she was never violent like that on a whim. This wasn't like herself at all.

She ran out of the palace, aimlessly walking around the city in the dead of night. The tears stained her skin wet and in the back of her mind, she thought of Ross.

She remembered what he had told her: "If you’re ever looking for someone to talk to back home, I’m always at the Blushing Mermaid."

Tav sniffled and wiped her tears with her sleeve. Maybe she could confide in someone...

~

Tav made her way to the Blushing Mermaid, and before she could even walk inside, she could smell the strong scent of alcohol. She recoiled in her stomach, that terrible smell of drunk people. Eck.

She opened the doors, and Gods the smell was even worse. But it was very lively, singing, dancing, yelling, and loud music being played by a nearby band.

Tav sank onto a barstool, her gaze wandering aimlessly across the crowded room. The bartender, an older man, caught sight of her weary expression and slid a drink her way. "You look like you need this more than I do," he said.

Grateful, Tav clasped the glass, offering a nod of appreciation before taking a sip.

Just as the fiery liquid burned its way down her throat, a pair of hands landed gently on her shoulders. Tav turned, finding Ross settling into the seat beside her. A warm smile spread across his face. "Hey, Tav! I knew that was you," he greeted with genuine delight.

But as his eyes fell on her red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks, his smile faded. "What happened?" He tilted his face with concern.

Embarrassment washed over Tav, and she lowered her head in shame, a self-deprecating chuckle escaping her lips. "Just got into a fight with Astarion...I feel terrible," she admitted with regret. Ross's frown deepened as he listened intently, his eyes fixed on her every word.

He half-smiled, "Do you want to talk about it? We can get out of here. It's a little too loud right now." Standing up, he extended his hand towards Tav.

She hesitated for a moment before accepting his offer, feeling the touch of his hand under hers. But his kindness was comforting.

"I know a good spot." Ross softly let go of her hand and they walked silently to the docks of the shore. Their shoes clicked and echoed under the wood of the docks and Ross took a deep breath of the salty air, "Now tell me - why the tears?"

Tav bit down on her lips and crossed her arms in a self-hug, "I accidentally scratched him in the face...and made him bleed."

"What? Now why would you do that?"

"He grabbed my wrist and...ah...fuck - I don't know what came over me."

"Wait, wait -" His eyes narrowed in confusion and anger, "Why was he grabbing you in the first place?" he clicked his tongue in dispute.

Tav shook her head over and over, "I was trying to leave and he didn't want me to go."

Ross became passionate at the moment and raised his voice, "So?! No one should be putting their hands on you like that. That's really possessive, don't you think?"

Tav felt defeated and she went to wipe a single tear that fell from her eyes. He was right and hearing the truth made it sting even more.

Tav ran her fingers threw her locs and lifted her hair in a ponytail, gripping her scalp as a stress reliever. Just as Tav heaved out a stressful sigh Ross went uncharacteristically silent.

When she turned her head, Ross had been staring at her with wide eyes, his mouth slightly a gap.

"Oh no..." He whispered into the air as he approached Tav closer.

Her heart skipped a beat, and the warmth of his hand fell on her chin, pulling her face to the side. His eyes glared at the bite marks that scared Tav's skin.

Ross wetted his lips and softly spoke, "Did he do this to you...?"

Tav averted her eyes and stepped away, breaking their contact. She turned her back and hid her scars with her thick hair. Her fingers nervously brushed down the strands.

"Tav - are you a vampire?" Ross sounded dumbfounded, maybe even disappointed.

"I don't need your disappointment too."

Ross scoffed and shook his head, pressing his thumbs firmly on the bridge of his nose, "I'm just surprised. I didn't think your relationship with him went that far." Tav was right. He was disappointed, this was vital information his sister would definitely want to hear...but he didn't feel right about it.

He pitied Tav.

"He's a monster." Ross sneered to himself.

Tav quickly turned her head, and her demeanor quickly became defensive, "He’s not a monster he’s just hurt!" Tav snapped at Ross and just as she had quickly defended Astarion, her attitude simmered back down, not meaning to yell at her friend like that.

Her head pounded with overwhelming feelings. Things between her and Astarion changed when he ascended and it was boiling to a breaking point for Tav.

She whispered out, her voice cracking and barely audible, "All that pain...It changed him into something he's not."

When she faced Ross straight on, the tears on her cheeks sparkled against the moonlight, "Is it my fault?"

Ross shook his head and placed his hand on her shoulder, stroking it to calm her, "Don’t blame yourself…"

Tav held her breath, her body became timid and shaky, "He's just so full of hurt and I don't know how to get through to him."

Ross scrunched his lips to the side in a furrow and eyed her wet face, "If he is smart, he'd apologize for treating you like an object."

She buried her face between her hands, sobbing as she sank to the floor and held her knees.

Ross knelt down on the floor and gently placed a hand on her back, rubbing her in comfort.

As Tav's cries subsided into sniffles, Ross let out a sigh, "Did you eat anything yet? We can go grab a bite. Get your mind off of things."

Tav looked up at him, her eyes red and tearful, her expression questioning his proposal, "Food isn't going to fill me right now...If you understand."

Ross covered her neck with his hands, "Well this neck is off limits." He teased her and stuck out his tongue.

Tav chuckled a fangy smile and wiped away old tears, "Don't worry," she replied, her voice tinged with playful sarcasm. "I'll save your neck for another day."

"So what do you do for blood then?" He became questionable, trying to figure it out in his head.

"Animals, whatever I can get."

"How about we go hunting outside the walls?" Ross suggested. But Tav felt hesitant, her mind still clouded with sadness.

"The night is young. Plus, I'm kinda curious to see you hunt for something.” He rested his chin into his palm, “Want to see what all that hype was about."

At that moment, she trusted Ross to guide her through this time of sorrow. She saw him as a friend, and an outlet to grow a bond outside of her relationship. A healthy social life.

But then again, Tav could just imagine the look on Astarion's face if he knew about this. Even if it was harmless, she would definitely be punished.

What if he punishes me either way?

Ross snapped Tav out of her thoughts, "If you wish to keep degrading yourself, I'll leave you to it." he stated firmly, his hands slipping into his pockets as he turned to walk away from her.

In a moment of defiance, Tav stood tall and took in a deep breath, "Lead the way."

Ross paused in his steps, surprised by Tav’s response. He turned back to face her, studying her for a moment before nodding slightly. Without a word, he gestured for her to follow as he began walking again.

Next part here

Any thoughts? Comment 👇🏼 I love to engage!

Drama and TRAUMA. Baby Astarion, he’s just deeply rooted in hurt. But let’s build up some relationships between characters, shall we? 😌

[constelationprize]

hello! 8 and 18 for ask game? owo

8. Common fanon opinion everyone is wrong about

This one might come to bite me in the ass very very soon but I hate hate hate the idea that Jeremy or the Trojans have to be Jean's white knights to the point it actively hurts their characterization.

One example is, of course, the classic "Jeremy calls out/hits Kevin for leaving Jean behind" because it is the most ATROCIOUS of the already plenty horrible fanon takes around Kevin fleeing the Nest. It doesn't make sense for any of the characters involved and it does not fit the situation.

But the one that I hate the most, and am constantly in fear of seeing become true in the next two books, is the Trojans getting a red card for defending Jean. I get why that would be cathartic in theory, but let me put this bluntly, it would be a dogshit writing decision.

The point of the Trojans being "pacifists", and them being Jean's new start, is that he needs to know he can live his life without violence, even in self defence. They address this in TSC in a way that I found very well explored, in that them refusing to play dirty is not a superiority complex or naive; it is a very deliberate, constant choice they make to not rely on having to put down others to be successful. It makes them work harder, it makes them better players. It's not like the Trojans don't check people, it's not like they play a secret kind of Exy that's not a contact sport, they simply don't throw punches and they don't do cheap shots.

The Trojans are, narratively, the polar opposite of the Ravens. That's why Jean is sent there to heal. Breaking the no red card streak cheapens that. It sends the message that non-violence is never a viable option. That wanting it does in fact make him weak.

Moreover, past the momentary catharsis of seeing Jean being defended, the consequences are not worth it. The Trojans would have their legacy tainted forever, and it would be ultimately Jean's "fault" even if he is not the one carded, and he's already being portrayed as a problem player by the media. Not to mention Jeremy, whose whole entire goal is to become the first Trojan captain to bring home a Championship first place trophy, and that would be cut at the knees by the red card. It would ruin his legacy as well. This would ruin both their character arcs because it would cut off the possibility of Jean being accepted as a true Trojan and Jeremy realizing his dream.

Either that, or it would be portrayed as a universally loved decision with no consequences, which would plain and simple just be bad writing.

Not a single good option here!!!!

18. it's absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on...

I'm gonna be so fucking real right now.

This fandom NEEDS freaks. I think it's very curious how in a series with extremely dark topics wanting to engage with those topics in any way that is not black and white is so widely persecuted. Even the main characters, who are actual murderers, are more often toned down into soft, defanged versions of themselves that have never suffered and never done anything wrong than put in scenarios where they can be morally gray or truly dark. And it's crazy because at the same time the amount of straight up torture porn in fics is insane. But that's only allowed as long as it is our righteous protagonists suffering bravely before the evildoers getting run off a cliff Disney villain style.

TSC gave us so much interesting Raven content but that has made no ripple in the fandom at all because Ravens Bad.

My favorite example of this, also, is Riko. Riko is a very fascinating character, and even if you personally think that he does not deserve redemption, he makes such a fun villain. But so often in fics he's like this cartoonish bad guy not only in the sense of no depth at all but also in the sense that he's like ridiculous. Like he's not a good Exy player and he can't really do anything to hurt Neil or the Foxes which is just. Patently untrue.

People forget so often that EVERY time that Neil goes against Riko, the consequences outweigh the rewards. Every time but one. Neil's constant antagonizing of Riko is what gets Seth killed, it's what gets Andrew assaulted, it's what gets the Foxes constantly harassed, it's what gets him tortured for two weeks and then sent back out looking like bait for his father's people. There is direct correlation between every time that they meet and/or publicly mention each other and a bad thing that happens. And I'm not saying that it's Neil's fault, or that he shouldn't have stood up to Riko – I'm saying that pretending that Riko doesn't have power, that he's not a threat, is stupid. This is literally the key to their dynamic, and I don't understand why people think that the relationship between the protagonist and the antagonist of the story should be the protagonist winning 100% of the time.

This also extends to ships. I understand not wanting to read toxic dynamics, but that's what the ao3 filters are for, not making it a cornerstone part of the fandom culture that you should not want to explore them.

This is a fandom where people are afraid, with good reason, of taking risks. And it makes the mainstream fanon content boring as hell.

[thatone16216]

Slytherins Unmasked

Who are the REAL Slytherins? What lies behind Blaise Zabini's smirk? What secrets do the gray eyes of Draco Malfoy hold? What truths do the full lips of Pansy Parkinson not speak? What horrors have Tom and Mattheo witnessed at the hands of their father? What pain do Lorenzo Berkshire's jokes mask? What sadness hides in Theodore Nott's smile?

⚠️TRIGGER WARNINGS: RAPE, SUICIDE, SELF HARM, DEPRESSION⚠️

The Slytherins. The most privileged group in Hogwarts. Or are they?

For they are hiding something. Something dark. Painful. 

Terrifying. 

Read this at your own risk, my friend. For these are the real Slytherins. The ones behind the insults. The ones beyond the beauty.

*****

Blaise is violated. Every thought in his brain is tainted. Every memory is tainted. Tainted by what happened. What's been happening. What the monsters his mother has married have done to him on the dead of night. What goes on behind the closed doors of his bedroom. But he cannot say anything. Cannot do anything but hide it and endure it. For of he doesn't, the monsters will go after his little sisters next.

Pansy is hurt. She is not her perfect older brother, and her parents hate her for it. They beat her, they curse her, they scream and yell and throw stuff at her, and nothing is ever enough. She silently sobs to herself in the safety of her bathroom, feeling nothing except the blood running from the cuts on her wrist.

Draco is broken. His father may not physically abuse him, but his words scar just as deep. He truly believes he is nothing. He's been told his whole life by his father and grandparents, and he believes that to be true. That is why, every night since 4th year, he has stood at the edge of the Astronomy Tower, asking himself if he should jump.

Enzo is depressed. You can't tell easily, but behind the jokes and laughter, he's masking his heartbreak. He wants his mother to love him. Wants her to accept him, but she never will. She just tortures him, giving him just enough love to know what it feels like, then taking it back, never giving him a break.

Mattheo is angry. He was born into a legacy he never wanted, is being prepped to become the father he hates, and is constantly pitted against his twin brother. Behind the dangerous smirk, and the cigarettes and alcohol, there's a scared, broken boy. One who wants to take the knife sitting in his bedside drawer, and stab himself. Over and over. Always and forever. Until there is no pain.

Tom is numb. He stopped feeling anything. He turned it off. His father always said emotions were weak. He watches his father slaughter innocents. Helps his mother torture enemies. Looks the other way as his twin is tortured for not being good enough, while never making a sound when his own torture comes. He buried his emotions so deep, not even he knows what he's feeling anymore.

Theo is tired. Tired of his family. Tired of school. Tired of being alive. Tired of hoping that every drag he takes of the cigarette  will kill him. Tired of this stupid mark on his arm. Every time he meets those blue eyes in the mirror, he never recognizes the face looking back at him.

In fact, none of them do.

For the Slytherins are broken. The seven of them are forced to live a life they didn't want. To serve a master they didn't follow. To die for a cause they didn't believe.

*****

To an outside viewer, a fellow student, perhaps. These seven kids are the most privileged to be alive. They were born into the most influential of families. The richest of wizards. Fortunes untold.

But what was money worth, when all that existed was pain? 

All of them hide it in different ways. From substances to self-harm, they all hide their pain from the world - and each other. But the eyes, the eyes give their pain away.

Maybe Draco wouldn’t hurt so much if he knew what his cousin Enzo really did when he “stepped out for some air”. Maybe Pansy would understand Blaise if she knew what really happened behind the closed doors of his bedroom. Maybe Tom and Mattheo, bonded through birth, could help each other through the murders and unspeakable crimes they are forced to commit.

Maybe, they’d all feel more alive, less alone, if they knew what happened to them. 

But they don't. They let the demons in their heads dictate them instead.

They let the brand on their skin dictate who they’ll live and die for.

They let their families destroy what could have been.

For if they weren't broken… 

Blaise could have controlled it. He could have decided who to give himself to, and when. 

Pansy would be loved. She would love herself and her family and her friends and anyone else she met in her life. She would give herself wholly to a partner she cares for, and she would love her children as much as her parents loved her. 

Draco could be fixed. He could show off that dazzling smile that only his mother has ever seen, and even that was long ago. He could befriend who he wished, loved who he wished, and done what he wished, and his father would have accepted him.

Enzo would be happy. He those smiles and jokes would be real. He’d truly glow with happiness. Just being near him would make anyone’s day better.

Mattheo could be whole. He could learn who he is. He could show the world that he is not and never will be his father. He could even fight against him.

Tom could feel. He could feel and understand happiness and love and sadness and surprise and anger and heartbreak and every emotion in between. He could understand the looks the couples give each other in the halls, or why the girl he sat next to in herbology cried over the death of her rabbit. He could feel and understand all of it.

Theo would be content. He wouldn’t be tired. He wouldn’t feel like he's just going through the motions of life. He wouldn’t feel like the face in the mirror is an imposter, because how could such an impossibly handsome boy possess a mark for something so evil? 

*****

The world sees the Slytherins as vain and bullies, but maybe it's to cover their own pain. The world turns to stare as they walk by. 

Blaise, with his flawless skin, and chocolate eyes. Enhanced by moisturizers and hiding what he sees in the dark.

Pansy, with her perfect figure and full lips. Achieved through her parents monitoring her diet. The lips blocking the untold truths from being said.

Draco, with his gray orbs, like an ocean before a storm. Hiding the insults his father cleverly masks behind "complements".

Enzo, with his sharp cheekbones and mischievous dimples. The smile a permanent lie.

Mattheo, with his dangerous smirk and devilish attitude. Fighting those who he considers enemies, while never fighting the real one. 

Tom, with his soft curls and charming smile. The smile given to people before they let him into their homes and he's forced to slaughter them.

Theo, with his charming attitude and handsome appearance. The shadows under his eyes, hidden. 

The Slytherins are beautiful. How could someone so beautiful feel so much pain? How could someone so beautiful be so alone? So broken? So… 

So…

Suicidal.

They all are. Every last one of them. They try to hide it. But again. Their eyes. Their eyes tell all. 

That is why, when Blaise is on the quidditch pitch one day, he accidentally falls off his broom, landing on the ground below, an unnatural position.

That is why, when Pansy cut a little too deep, she didn't heal herself.

That is why, when life got too much, Draco finally jumped.

That is why, when Enzo started drinking, one stormy night, he didn't stop.

That is why, when Mattheo was alone, the darkness taunting him, he finally grabbed that knife.

That is why, when Tom had a chance, he turned his own wand on himself.

That is why, when Theo couldn't sleep, he took every pill in the bottle.

*****

Nobody understood, how those seven teenagers, so full of life, so full of privilege, could die so young. But as those people questioned and mourned, the families of them all stood still, faces grave, eyes cold. Staring at their children’s graves. 

They knew. 

They knew how their children died. 

For they were the ones who killed them. 

They killed them with every hit, kick, curse, insult, and object they threw at them.

They killed them every time they looked and said they’d never be enough. 

They killed them, when they were born.

A/N: If it looks weird, that's because the way it was originally written and is posted on Wattpad and Quotev is as a bunch of drabbles in a book

[m12writer]

Birds of a Feather Masterlist

Act One A Hard Day's Night The First Cut Is the Deepest Winning a Battle, Losing the war No Man's Land Shake Your Groove Thing If Tomorrow Never Comes The Self-Destruct Button Save Me Who's Zoomin' Who?

Act Two Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head Enough is Enough Make Me Lose Control Deny, Deny, Deny Bring the Pain Into You Like a Train Something to Talk About Let It Be Thanks for the Memories Much too Much Ower of a Lonely Heart Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer Begin the Begin Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Break on Through It's the End of the World As We Know It Yesterday What Have I Done to Deserve This? Band-Aid Covers the bullet Hole Superstition The Name of the Game Blues for Sister Someone Damage Case 17 Seconds Deterioration of the Fight or Flight Response Losing My Religion

Act Three Time Has Come Today I Am a Tree Sometimes a Fantasy What I Am Oh, the Guilt Let the Angels Commit Where the Boys Are Staring at the Sun From a Whisper to a Scream Don't Stand So Close to Me Six Days (Part 1) Six Days (Part 2) Great Expectations Wishin' and Hopin' Walk on Water Drowning on Dry Land Some Kind of Miracle Scars and Souvenirs My Favorite Mistake Time After Time Desire The Other Side of This Life (Part 1) The Other Side of This Life (Part 2) Testing 1-2-3 Didn't We Almost Have It All?

Connie Sloan's Interns Act Four A Change Is Gonna Come Love/Addiction Let the Truth Sting The Heart of the Matter Haunt You Every Day Kung Fu Fighting Physical Attraction, Chemical Reaction Forever Young Crash Into Me (Part 1) Crash Into Me (Part 2) Lay Your Hands on Me Where the Wild Things Are Piece of My Heart The Becoming Losing My Mind Freedom (Part 1) Freedom (Part 2)

Act Five Dream a Little Dream of Me (Part 1) Dream a Little Dream of Me (Part 2) Here Comes the Flood Brave New World There's No 'I' in Team Life During Wartime Rise Up These Ties That Bind In the Midnight Hour All By Myself Wish You Were Here Sympathy for the Devil Stairway to Heaven Beat Your Heart Out Before and After An Honest Mistake I Will Follow You Into the Dark Stand By Me Elevator Love Letter Sweet Surrender No Good at Saying Sorry (One More Chance) What a Difference a Day Makes Here's to Future Days Now or Never

Act Six Good Mourning Goodbye I Always Feel Like Somebody's Watchin' Me Tainted Obligation Invasion I Saw What I Saw Give Peace a Chance Invest in Love New History Holidaze Blink I Like You So Much Better When You're Naked State of Love and Trust Valentine's Day massacre The Time Warp Perfect Little Accident Push Suicide is Painless Sympathy for the Parents Hook, Line and Sinner Hoe Insensitive Shiny Happy People Sanctuary Death and All His Friends

Act Seven With You I'm Born Again Shock to the System Superfreak Can't Fight Biology Almost Grown These Arms of Mine That's Me Trying Something's Gotta Give Slow Night, So Long Adrift and at Peace Disarm Start Me Up Don't Deceive Me (Please Don't Go) P.Y.T. (Pretty Young Thing) Golden Hour Not Responsible This Is How We Do It Song Beneath the Song It's a Long Way Back White Wedding I Will Survive Unaccompanied Minor

Act Eight Free Falling She's Gone Take the Lead What Is It About Men Love, Loss and Legacy Poker Face Put Me In, Coach Heart-Shaped Box Dark Was the Night Suddenly This Magic Moment Hope for the Hopeless If/Then All You Need Is Love Have You Seen Me Lately? If Only You Were Lonely One Step Too Far The Lion Sleeps Tonight Support System The Girl With No Name Moment of Truth Let the Bad Times Roll Migration Flight

Act Nine Going, Going, Gone Remember the Time Love the One You're With I Saw Her Standing There Leaving

[snapmite1998]

In the grimy depths of Lotho Minor, the stench of decay wrapped around Darth Maul like a shroud, permeating his senses. The twisted echoes of his own anguished snarls reverberated through the labyrinthine corridors, a haunting reminder of the beast he’d become—a dark reflection of his once proud self. The fragmented memories of ambition and vengeance clashed with the grotesque reality of his horrific transformation, a creature born not just of flesh but also of torment and despair. Though Darth Maul felt a tingle of fear, he soon realized this was not real, that he was not back in the hell he had been sentenced to by Kenobi, this was a dream.

As he gazed upon the monstrous creature that was once him, he felt a cold knot of fear tugging at his heart—a stark contrast to the raging fury that usually defined him. The malnutrition had hollowed him, while isolation had warped his very soul. His horns, grown yet broken, punctuated his misfortune, while the black veins crawling across his skin whispered tales of a darkness that threatened to consume him entirely.

“Look at what you’ve become,” the disgraceful echo of his self hissed, each word dripping with venomous insight. “You’ve survived, yes, but at what cost? Power fades in the face of true despair. The shadows that you once commanded now command you.” The voice was an unrelenting reminder of his shattered dreams, a taunt wrapped in truth.

But deep within, the darkness burned brighter. “No!” He roared defiantly, his heart racing with unyielding determination. “I have been tempered by suffering. I have forged myself anew! I will not be a mere phantom of what could have been! Kenobi and I are destined to clash again, and this time, he will know what true power feels like!” Each word was a damning indictment against the chains of his past, the memories of defeat igniting an inferno within him.

His tainted self, wary and solemn, bore a warning that chilled him to the core. “Underestimate him, and you will linger here forever, trapped in this abyss of your creation. What you see as strength could swiftly become your undoing.” The echo was both an appeal and a curse—a reminder that the brilliance of the Force could shine brighter in those who appeared weak.

Darth Maul's mind whirled with images of Kenobi, the fierce Jedi who had once bested him and left him for dead. The frustration was palpable, a scorching ember intensifying his resolve. “No, this will not end in failure! I will rise from the ashes of this nightmare! I will reclaim my place—and Kenobi will fall!” His voice thundered through the filth-laden tunnels, resonating with the promise of vengeance.

And so, engulfed in a swirling maelstrom of doubt and ambition, he stood as the embodiment of conflict; a dark hero in a twisted narrative, delving deeper into the shadows of his mind. The road ahead twisted like the very caverns he inhabited, but he would carve his path. With a glimmer of ferocity lighting his twisted heart, he vowed to confront his demons, both within and without. The echoes of his former self lingered in the darkness, but the fire of his spirit would burn brighter still, igniting a reckoning that could reshape destiny itself.

The laughter of the disgraced self echoed ominously through the tangled tunnels, a chilling resonance that sent shivers crawling across Maul’s desiccated skin. Each spider-like movement was deliberate, taunting, the embodiment of despair circling him like an ancient predator assessing its prey. “Destined for failure,” it mocked, the very syllables heavy with a weight that threatened to crush his spirit. “You cling to the illusion of success, but look around—this is your legacy. A festering pit of failure that will swallow you whole.”

Maul’s dark eyes blazed like twin suns, igniting with defiance against the oppressive weight of those slithering words. “That reality is yours, not mine!” He snarled, rage surging through him like a tempest. “I am not that broken creature you once knew. I have been reborn, forged in the fires of malice and suffering. I have mastered my weaknesses! Arrogance? Yes, it nearly cost me everything! But do not mistake my past for my future!” He brandished his gaze, cutting through the darkness that threatened to suffocate him.

With conviction, he pressed forward, the shadows of his failures igniting an unquenchable fire within him. “I have tempered that arrogance and rage with cunning and patience, and it has yielded a harvest far beyond mere survival. I have built an empire—Crimson Dawn—rising amid the ashes and refuse of the past! My warriors are fierce, my criminals vile, and together we share in a tapestry of victories that no one in the galaxy could dream of!” Each affirmation rang out like a battle cry, echoing through the desolate labyrinth as if the walls themselves were compelled to listen.

Turning his back on the embodiment of doubt, he felt the weight lift off his shoulders, the oppressive presence dimming with each step he took toward destiny. “You serve as a powerful motivator, a cautionary tale of what could be should I falter,” he admitted, confident even as he walked away. “But I assure you, failure is not in my cards. I will not die here, nor will I be outmaneuvered by the Jedi, their clones, or that wretched Kenobi! Crimson Dawn will impose its will! The Sith will reclaim their rightful dominion! My bloodline shall rise above and seize the galaxy as it was meant to be!”

The darkness trembled, and for a fleeting moment, the disgraced self hesitated, its laughter faltering, ensnared by the fervor of Maul’s resolve. Each word was a death knell for doubt, resonating with the paradox of those who once stood against him. The shadows of despair still lingered, but Maul’s heart beat with primal intent—a cadence of fate untainted by the past and fueled by raw determination.

“I embrace my destiny, the legacy of the Sith, and I will carve a throne for my bloodline in the stars!” he declared, his voice echoing through the depths like thunder after the storm. “Let them come; let Kenobi come! For I will face them all, and through that clash, I shall rise once more—a terrifying force, a nightmare reborn!” With each proclamation, he surged forth, the labyrinth behind him fading into obscurity as he stepped into the light of his own making, unyielding against the darkness that threatened to reclaim him.

With each determined step away from the twisted remnants of his past, Darth Maul felt the lingering specter of his disgraced self clinging to him, a grotesque reminder of the fear and doubt that sought to drag him back into the abyss. It slithered closer, hissing softly, "You can’t escape what you are! This is your true self, and the darkness will always claim you. Embrace it!”

But Maul stood resolute, the power of the dark side surging within him like a wild storm. Rage and clarity ignited in his being, merging into a single, unstoppable force. “No!” he roared, his voice reverberating through the labyrinth. In a swift, fluid motion, he harnessed the raw energy coursing through his veins and unleashed it with a fierce Force push, a tangible wave of darkness that slammed into his former self like a tidal wave.

The impact sent the creature sprawling back into the grim shadows of failure, its skeletal form writhing and twisting as if desperate to find purchase in the depths once more. A cacophony of anguished shrieks echoed through the tunnels, but Maul’s resolve was unshakable. “You will not claim me again!” he shouted, the fierce energy from his outburst illuminating the darkness around him, granting him strength. The echo of his tainted self faded into a haunting silence, swallowed by the very abyss that had once held him captive.

Turning away, he felt the pulse of his own power, unblemished and relentless, coursing through him—this was not a refuge of despair but the foundation upon which he would build a new legacy. “I have risen from the ashes of torment, and now I step into the light of my own making!” he proclaimed, a fervent declaration cutting through the remnants of fear that lingered.

The path ahead shimmered, a gateway alive with possibility. Maul could almost taste the impending clashes, the wars yet to come, as he donned the mantle of Dark Lord of the Sith once more. Envisioning the galaxy laid bare before him, he felt the intoxicating rush of ambition intertwining with his mastery of the dark side.

With his past firmly behind him, he stepped boldly into the unknown, ready to bend destiny to his will. The echoes of doubt faded like whispers in the wind, replaced by the unyielding strength of his resolve. "I will claim my rightful throne," he vowed to the galaxy at large, a promise forged in the fires of his rebirth. "Let them cower, let them tremble! The time of the Sith has returned, and nothing will stand in my way!"

And so, Darth Maul departed from the labyrinth of despair, his spirit ablaze, an embodiment of unshakable purpose charging forth to seize his fate and reclaim the darkness that was always his to command. An indomitable figure silhouetted against the vast canvas of the cosmos, ready to carve his name into the annals of history.

[theink-stainedfolk]

Hello everyone this is my writing blog (somewhat) and I'll be posting some of the chapters from my forever incomplete novels and other stuffs.

Some facts to know about me.

Female

18 years

Leo

ENFJ

Indian Muslim

I aspire to become a writer. And a Criminal Psychologist

Hogwarts house: Ravenclaw

You can kidnap me with the temptation of a proper Hyderabadi Biryani, free books, free calligraphy pens and a personal person who can type out the story that i have in my mind for me because i will only procrastinate.

Tell me what else should I add. Masterlist underneath ⬇️⬇️👇👇👇

MASTERLIST

(Old to New)

Keyper

The Moonchild & The Starboy

Nawabs

Two Strangers

Trouble (close to him)

And They Were Roommates

Yellow Like Sunflower

Saved By The Devil Himself

Sun Goddess

Tainted

The Beauty and The Jewel

The Library of The Dead

Royal Detective

Pretty Boy Across The Street pt. , pt.2

Wingwoman

Bibliophiles pt 1, pt2

Sunshine For Two

Quill & Court

The Black Rose

Enter The Killer

Whispers of Shadow & Love pt1 (WoS&L, i don't remember which one is the pt2 pt3 so..) OCs, OCs pt2, Facts, Moodboards, Moodboard 2

Love Thy Enemy

Fragile Feelings

Trees Of The Wretched

Rebel's Crown

Penna Luna

Forbidden Flames

TToTK&HK pt1, pt2, pt3, Moodboard, chapter reboot

Bound By The Shadows

Anchored Hearts , pt1

Legacy of Creation, Moodboard

Paradox Paragon

The Devil's Advocate

Transcendent Allies/ Crossing Realms, OCs

Beyond The Pages , OCs , ch1, Moodboard

A Matter of Time, Ch1, OCs

Shades of Erudition, Introduction

The Shadows We Cast,

A Future Unwritten

The Veil of Allegiance, ch1

Thorn-Kissed

The Silence That Binds Us, Questionnaire 1, Questionnaire 2,

The Lost & The Damned, Moodboard 1, 2, 3

[neargaztambide]

So, I developed an interest in drawing stuff, and combined with my interest with the Batman rogues, I chose to design and make lore about some of the characters. And here is the first draw I made, of Jonathan Crane!

I enjoyed drawing him, as I took a lot of inspiration from the BTAS design. And don't worry about the weird signs at the side, you'll soon find out what they mean. ;)

And as I mentioned, I made lore, a backstory for my version of Jonathan. So this is the thing I did (directly taken from the document I made). Warn you, it is a long read.

The legacy of the Crane family left a mark amongst the townsfolk of Whitevines, a farming village in the middle of Georgia. This village, at first a normal place to live, with a united community of around two hundred habitants, was keeping a secret, as dark as a starless sky and pungent as the taste of rot: people were cultists to the profane off-springs of Mingauru, the lunar god, which led them to make rituals of an unspeakable moral depravity. And of course, these abhorrent acts were headed by the Cranes for years: the rituals granted the Cranes wealth and health, at the cost of performing unredeemable acts.

Is in this background that Jonathan Crane was raised. As a child, he already felt in his bones the dreadfulness that hid in the shadows of Whitevines, even if it was a well kept secret by his family. In addition to this, Jonathan’s dreams were overrun with horrible images, which made him fearful of the world he lived in. This was caused for generations who ran rituals for capricious deities that should have remained forgotten: it was a punishment to a person who had not tainted his soul yet. Even if he felt uncomfortable to do so, Jonathan learned a fair quantity of arcane arts, thanks to his father, Wilbur Crane.

When he was fourteen, Jonathan’s family fell slowly into disgrace, which was the warning that Wilbur needed to see that Whitevines was about to follow that same path. In a desperate attempt to avoid it, Wilbur made his own child go through rituals which marked his body and mind. Jonathan developed mixed feelings with the concept of fear and the gods his town prayed: he was distrustful, and learned to be afraid of everything, and also understood that they were motors that made people go forward in their lives. And yet, as a clock engine, fear could be broken and not needed to be used anymore. For Jonathan, fear could go to such extreme lengths, to the point of making a person fearless and detached from that sentiment forever, making the person evolve and live without fear driving its life.

As an attempt to escape from his environment and seek a form of liberation, he won a scholarship to study psychology in the city of Gotham, New Jersey: only the science of the human mind could liberate him from the horrible things he had witnessed. Jonathan was the best student of his generation, receiving great academic condecorations and a promising life in the fields of both psychology and chemistry —a passion he found while studying—: he was recovering peace as his nightmares were subsiding. His good luck streak ended when he took a charged pistol to one of his lectures to teach his students about how fear motivates humankind. This led to a fatal outcome that guaranteed Jonathan’s immediate dismissal of the academic field. And that started the return of the nightmares, Jonathan’s old friends.

Desperate, Jonathan wanted to get rid of the nightmares and the constant feeling of dread that tormented his entire life. He gathered all his knowledge in the old arts of occultism, psychology and chemistry to develop a “cure” for his nightmares and omniphobia, without caring about who he had to step on to do so.

This is how Jonathan Crane created his alter ego, the Scarecrow, and ran a rampage of crime in Gotham City, with the hopes of freeing himself (and perhaps humanity) from the lethal embrace of fear.

[darkcacaocookieandfriends]

🕯️xas many as you want. I love hearing this shit

(I will do several for each one. Separated by muse. Spoilered because long as hell.)

Dark Cacao

(Candy) "When the time comes, all will come to fruition and you and I will be enemies once more. Even though I am the keeper of your name, I cannot help but feel disheartened at this scenario and yet, I know it to be so certain in my mind. I try to put it aside... Yet, I feel it with dough-chilling certainty."

(Skyline) "Skyline, my boy. You have quite the future ahead of you. So much promise in one little cookie, fallen from the sky like a gift to all of Earthbread. I can only hope, that in your quest to find yourself that you never lose sight of who you truly are...no matter who that cookie may be." Burning Spice

(Candy) "Candy Eye Cookie... If only you could see that you are not meant for greatness. The goal of a monster is always the same, and a herald cannot be made of you. Ask me how I know this. But you could never, for that is the very thing you fear. Embracing yourself is your own worst fear and yet something you cannot deny. For a monster is a monster no matter what disguise they wear."

(Candy) "Even someone like you would shrink away at my touch. The touch of a cookie so fated to only crumble all that is in his hands. Can you not see, that I too have met failure and shame? Of COURSE it hurts, and it always will but running from that will always be a neigh impossible feat. It's best to embrace the darkness in your heart. It hurts far less to do so... It's best to bury it and move forward. More than anyone, I know there are pieces far too fractured of myself to put back together. You can never be that cookie in their eyes, Candy Eye Cookie. You can never make up for those transgressions, and they will always be a brand upon you, reminding you of all you've done. At times, I wonder if you hear it too? The voices of cookies long since perished by your hands, the wailing in the spice storms, the calling of the Licorice Sea...You feel the same too, don't you? Constant reminders of your failure. Of all you could never be. It hurts you too...doesn't it?"

(Skyline) "Truly, you have the blackened heart of a Great Destroyer! I cannot wait for you to carry on my legacy, and when the time comes we will see if I get my question answered. What would it take, to destroy me? Could it be YOU, perhaps?"

(Tainted Licorice) "You try so hard not to lick the bottoms of the shoes of others, but you have been doing that all along to my DEAR FRIEND Shadow Milk. In your pursuit of freedom you only adorned yourself in even MORE chains. How amusing!" Choco Werehound/Schwarzwalder

(To Candy)

"I've got to wonder, why you try so hard to keep what little humanity you got. Why are you so afraid of being one of us? Wear it with pride. I think Red Velvet Cookie said it best, cookies came up with the term monster as an insult, something to degrade us and separate us, to put us below them. Is that how you really feel? If so, I gotta say, I thought I had a subservient issue but you got me beat. I know I'm still on my own journey to find out who I am, and I hope one day you can too. Maybe then you can finally rest that pretty head, eh?"

(Skyline) "You got so much to learn, kid! But don't worry, Uncle Brute's gonna help you! I'll teach you what it means to be a monster, what the thrill of the fight and the love of jamshed can do you!"

"I know your mother's just trying to guard your heart, but trust me it hurts you more than helps you. In this world, you're going to see things you don't like, things that will haunt you forever if you're not ready for them. She should know that more than anyone but I think that's why she tries to save you from it. She doesn't want you to hurt like her... Sorry Candy, but he's gotta know for himself. You can't save anyone from reality."

(Licorice) "I want to protect you from all the pain you feel, and yet you hide things from me. Am I...not good enough to know them? Am I not good enough to stand on equal ground with you? Am I...just a cake monster to you after all?

"If you knew how I really felt, would it change anything? You're one of the few cookies who don't run away screaming when you see me. More than anyone, you accepted me. I don't even mind being your slave anymore...In fact, I feel at home being one to you. It feels weird NOT being your slave now. That might be complacency talking but so be it. I'm not willing to change that. Am I truly a slave, though? Sometimes I feel we're more friends, buddies with benefits...You think I'd be fine with that...but I want to much more. I can't help how I feel. I just want to be the one who takes away that pain, to protect you from anyone and anything that wants to hurt you. I want to dry your tears, to kiss them all away and hold you in my arms. I shouldn't want that. I know it's taboo for someone like me to want those things from you...Guess I'm taboo, then. Guess I'm a bug, dumb brute for wanting a stupid, flat cookie to love me...if only you knew what you did to me, what you make me want to do to you... I know you gave me an option but I could never leave you. I could never not protect you. I belong to you...and I want you to belong to me."

(Tainted Licorice) "What made you agree with me? To think you too are born evil? I know you seem righteous in your convictions but...that's never been the Licorice I knew. He always had some good in his heart. He was never...truly evil. Just hurt and misunderstood. When you love someone, you love their cracks and flaws...but I can't help but wonder if this is all a symptom of something so much greater. Who broke you so bad to make you choose this path? I feel like you're scared, but you won't tell me that. I know you better than that. You always wanted to be tough to me. You always wanted to be strong...but, I know the truth. I never cared if you were or not. You want to lead, but the truth is you need someone to lean on, to rely on. Your foundation is made of salt and your crown is a bunch of rotting thorns. A true leader has to stand on their own, I gotta ask if you can like this? You assure me you can, but I have doubt in my heart. Forgive me, my love. And still, despite this, I'll follow you because in the end, there's gotta be someone to catch you when you fall and these strong arms are waiting for you when that happens. In the end it's you and me against the world, and even if we crumble to bits I'll make sure it's in each other's arms."