#and lol it used to be ALL in my mind. then I learned not to trust my memory too much. anything I think and I like goes down on a note.

[romancherry]

caged in silk (3) — picnic date

pairings ➝ dark!joel miller x dark!javier peña x dark!marcus acacius x female!reader

summary ➝ a nice picnic during a perfect sunny day is turned into something unexpected when javier starts to seduce you. and when he is done, it's joel's job to clean it up.

warnings ➝ explicit smut, soft!dark content, fingering, oral (f!receiving), pussy eating, squirting, overstimulation, heavy praise kink, breast play, nipple play, pet names (especially good girl), guiding and talking reader through orgasms, kissing and making out, all of this happens out in the open in their backyard so it's immoral public behaviour, dirty talk, swearing, 18+, MINORS: DO NOT INTERACT.

word count ➝ 4.900

author's note ➝ hello everyone i'm back with another update on this story! never thought i'd make it lol. i've been busy with college and my inspiration dimmed but i finally gathered the time necessary to write another chapter. it's a bit on the longer and more descriptive side. i tried my best to incorporate every detail i had imagined and i hope i didn't confuse you. if you enjoyed this, please leave a comment or repost! my heart fills with love every time i read your supportive reactions 🩷

do NOT repost, reupload, translate or plagiarize my work.

it had been a week since your failed escape attempt. a week since you had fought tooth and nail, trying to slip away from them, only to be caught and dragged right back where you belonged. 

you had been defiant, full of fire, spewing curses at them and threatening to make their lives hell. but now? now, you peacefully sat between them in the backyard. 

a picnic. their attempt at smoothing things over, at making you comfortable. 

the checkered blanket beneath you was soft, and the spread they had laid out was impressive: lemonade, fresh fruit, cheese and pastries, along with some beer bottles for them to enjoy. 

it was domestic, almost normal. if someone looked from the outside, they’d think this was just a group sharing a lazy afternoon together.

but you knew the truth. 

javier sat on your left with a protective hand resting on your thigh, thumb lazily tracing circles over your bare skin. marcus was across from you, sitting comfortably on a folding chair, reading a newspaper through his sunglasses with a beer in his hand. and joel was just a few feet nearby, tending to a couple of pork ribs on the grill.

it was almost laughable how much they tried to make you feel content here. it’s absurd how they went back to playing house after filling your mind with honeyed threats. don’t try to run again, sweetheart. it won’t end well for you. your place is with us. you belong here, you just don’t see it yet. 

“you’re awfully quiet, sweetheart,” joel said, turning his head towards where you and javier laid on the blanket, studying you.

you stabbed your fork into a piece of fruit, shoving it into your mouth before responding. “what am i supposed to say?” 

“attitude,” marcus warned.

“looks like someone’s feisty today,” javier teased, and you could peak with the corner of your eye just how smug and amused his smirk was displayed on his stupid face.

“why don’t you try an’ relax, hm? it’s a beautiful day, baby. sunshine ‘n all,” joel suggested. and he wasn’t wrong. today’s weather is indeed the only reason to smile. the grass is greener, butterflies are in the air, the sunrays are glowing upon you, making your eyes hurt a little. the colours are vibrant and the ocasional breeze makes it a little easier to breathe through the smell of barbecue and smoke.

too bad the company’s ruining everything. this would’ve normally been the perfect day for you if you hadn’t been in the presence of your captors who changed the course of your life drastically and expected you to fall in line quickly. bend and mold to their every decision and routine while learning to not cross their boundaries.

“what’s in that pretty little head of yours, darling?” javier interrupted your train of thought, his hand smoothing over the plump flesh of your thigh, a bit too uncomfortable for your liking. “i don’t like seeing that frown on your beautiful face,” he added, his words almost genuine. with his hand still warming your thigh, his other hand came up to brush a stray hair off your face and lock it behind your ear, revealing more of your cheek to him.

“eres tan hermosa, mi amor,” he whispered sweetly, and you just realized how close he got to you.

you slightly and carefully turn your head in his direction, and your nose almost brushes his. his gaze immediatelly follows your mouth and studies your anxious breathing. the way your throat barely constricts when you swallow. how you try to make yourself seem unaffected by his presence; not only the warmth and confidence he emanates, but how he’s so open with his desire and admiration for you just by the expression of his eyes alone.

his eyes slowly rise to meet yours, and before you can shy away from the overwhelming eye contact, he gently cups your cheek and brings your lips to his.

your shock comes to life through a light squeak, a sensible moan, and javier proudly swallows it whole. he doesn’t wait for you to give him permission. the moment his tongue breaks the barrier of your lips and meets your own, his chest fills with lust.

he kisses you like he’ll never get another chance; greedy, passionate, posessive. he makes love to your mouth, worships your tongue and ocasionally moans shamelessly at how warm and familiar you feel, like you’ve done this a thousand times before. he laps at every inch you didn’t willingly give; teeth crashing, lips burning, noses touching – and before you can stop yourself, your hand unconciously grabs his shirt, and his body moves itself by instinct, scooting impossibly closer to yours, searching for more. demanding more.

he forces himself to break the kiss, and he does it so annoyingly slow. his teeth drag your bottom lip with him as if daring you to seek his touch further. his lips completely depart from yours and create distance between you.

his eyes run over your every feature, taking in your shaken state. you’re obviously dizzy and flustered, your glossy eyes and slightly red cheeks giving you away to his predatory gaze.

“seems like someone’s having fun,” marcus breaks the silence, the deep, intimidating tone in his voice snapping you out of the trance javier put you in.

you can see in the corner of your eye that joel’s attention shifted as well, from the preparation of the meal on the grill to the heated situation between you and his younger brother.

you search for a glimpse of jealousy and posessiveness in his gaze, but you don’t find any. he looks… interested. amused. curious to see if you will let your guard down again.

his eyes roam over your body and analyze the slight tremble in your naked thighs. you silently curse them for the creativity they put into choosing the delicate sundress for you today. yellow, thin… questionably short.

you realize the choice for your attire is no sudden coincidence. they planned on making you give in. how much, you didn’t know. it was up to them to decide on how many bricks they were going to knock out of your walls. their games of seduction were limitless, and if you weren’t careful… if you let them have their way with you – you know they’ll absolutely ruin you. and you didn’t want that. didn’t want them to have that power on you.

you snap out of deep thought and carefully shimmy away from javier’s body. but he’ll have none of that.

“where are you going, princesa?” javier asks, placing his hand on your thigh. he doesn’t need to apply any pressure to let you know you can’t go anywhere further.

“nowhere,” you fake confusion in your voice, trying to hide your true intention. trying to hide the fact that you indeed wanted to get away from his overwhelming attention.

of course your lies couldn’t get past him. he’s a former agent, for fuck’s sake. if you’re searching for a master manipulator in this house, first person you think of is javier peña. you play his games; he doesn’t play yours.

“now, now, hermosa… you gave me a taste, you know you can’t leave me like this,” he taunts, his intentions clear.

“what would you want me to do?” you question, your irritated tone making it clear you won’t break easily. that you’re not his puppet, his personal hooker that he payed for in order to forget about his problems.

“attitude, sweetheart. watch your tone,” marcus warns. of course he had to lecture you.

“it’s alright, brother,” javier excuses you. he is being suspiciously sweet. “i don’t think our sweetheart meant any harm. did you, baby?” his question is a test. a subtle dare – act impulsively on your frustration and feel the consequences. play his game, by his rules – and maybe you’ll have a shot. maybe you’ll rise in his eyes; make him proud. make yourself worth accounting for next time marcus wants to teach you a lesson.

“no. i meant no disrespect,” you comply. and you don’t miss the growing smile on javier’s face.

“good girl. very good girl,” he appreciates, running his hand through your flowing hair as gentle as possible. a gesture of kindness. a praise. a glimpse of what could happen – what could be – if you choose to submit. “why don’t you come sit between my legs, hm, baby? you’ll be more comfortable here.”

his invitation makes your stomach turn in disgust. you know what he wants, what he seeks. he moves his legs apart to make room for you and you don’t let him wait, moving carefully in the space he created. you’re grateful he didn’t demand you to straddle his lap.

you place your ass as far away from his crotch as you can while you gently lay the weight of your back on his chest. you position your head on his right shoulder, urging him to cradle you, which he does. he removes the barrier your hair created between your faces, guiding it on the opposite side. his breath is heavy and heated on your cheek, and as if the situation couldn’t get more overwhelming, he sneaks his left arm around your waist, circling it, sticking your body to his, making it harder to breathe, to move, to escape him.

you need some means of grounding. a way to cope with the anxiety buzzing in your bones and boiling your blood, your patience. how dare he touch you this way? make a show of your submission and compliance in front of his brothers, for the first time ever? what does he hope to accomplish?

you gather in fists the material of the dress which innocently rests on the side of your thighs, right below the delicate curve of your hips. it’s a way supposed to help you calm down and stop anticipating what’s to come next. to sway you from the overthinking train of thought which is threatening to keep rising your panic.

javier notices the way your body tenses, and he frowns. he doesn’t like it – doesn’t enjoy the fact that you’ll think he’s going to hurt you, violate your privacy and independence. he merely wants to take care of you and help you relax. he quickly figures that maybe this isn’t the best place to do it – in front of the watchful and hungry eyes of his brothers. but he can’t take it back now. all he can try is to make the pain go away. to coax you into opening up and become vulnerable for him – for them.

“shh, baby, relax. relax,” he whispers while carefully massaging the length of your arm with the unoccupied hand. gentle strokes of his fingertips rise goosebumps in their path while going up and down, up and down, doing a better job than you expected. “don’t be afraid, i won’t hurt you. i could never hurt you,” he promises, but his words feel empty to you. meaningless. deceitful.

you feel the wet press of his lips right on your temple and you shiver. he is so gentle, too gentle. treating you like a fragile piece of ancient, romantic sculpture. he surely must think of you like that – consider you something, someone, worth protecting and appreciating. worthy of love.

“you smell divine, mi amor,” he inhales ocasionally, taking deep breaths of your scent – the floral detergent in your dress, the remnants of the shampoo and conditioner in your hair. even the natural scent of your skin, though subtle, is enough to make javier’s head spin.

his hand removes leaves your arm and trails dangerously lower, tracing the line between the bottom of your dress and the inside of your thigh. the occasionally cool breeze flows in your direction, bothering your thin dress and lifting it merely an inch off of your legs. each time that happens, you’re sure that marcus can see the center of your panties and the way they stick like second skin to your pussy, squeezing your throbbing clit.

javier struggles to hide his amused smirk each time he touches you, teases and plays with your imagination by threatening to dip his fingers lower. to enter new territory and sink between your legs to where you want him most.

“so soft, baby. soft as silk,” he murmurs into your ear, his praise followed by a gentle peck to your earlobe, “can’t believe something as sweet as you rests in my arms. you like that, baby? feel safe?” he urges you to answer, to respond in kindly to his advances so he can take your pleasure as a sign to go further.

you shudder at his honeyed praise and force to swallow a lump down your throat so you can speak. “yes,” it’s more of a moan than a proper word, “feels… nice.”

“good, baby. i’m glad you like it,” he nips at your earlobe, and the unexpected distraction presents an open door for his hand to quickly trail further down your dress and dissapear right between your legs. you only notice the sudden intrusion when you feel your body moving without your own accord – your legs slightly parting, making room for him to graze the tip of his index down the center line of your pussy, nudging your clit, and then pressing on your hole, through your panties.

you gasp in both pleasure and anxiety at the gesture, so you try to protect yourself. to shield what little dignity you have left by ending things before they progress into something worse, more serious.

in a pathetic attempt to close your legs, he intervenes by syncing the tight hold his arm has around your waist with the quick move of his feet rising from the blanket and surround your own from the inside, preventing you to close them further.

once you’re securely caged between his frame, he nudges your feet to open up more. encouraging them to move, little by little, towards the edge of the blanket. towards the exterior.

you saw this coming. and that’s even worse than being clueless and not anticipating it – because you knew what he would do, and you did nothing to stop it.

“please, javi. you said you won’t hurt me,” you pleaded, and you hated the inevitable tremble in your voice.

“poor baby, no. this isn’t what you think it is,” he reassures, his words matching his attempt at grounding and soothing you in his hold by kissing all over your temple and massaging the inside of your thigh, backing away slightly from your dripping pussy to make you feel less threatened. “i don’t want to hurt you, baby. i swear. if you let me, i’ll make you feel so, so good.”

you feel the way his heart beats against his chest, the rhythm vibrating in your backbone. he is equally anxious too; he really wants you to enjoy this. to not view it as a punishment. because even if you did nothing extraordinary to earn this treatment, you deserve to feel good too.

“i’ll make this pretty pussy so happy, sweetheart. make you happy too, happiest you’ve ever been. if you’ll just let me…” his promise ends with a pause, giving you time to think if you really want to give in.

the question is – are you stupid enough to refuse, or so weak you just approve?

is it really a sign of weakness, though? to just give in? to let yourself be caressed by him and feel the pulsing desire of his brothers who are desperately waiting for their turn?

all of this is under your control, if you think about it. they punish you for your dissapointing behaviour and shower you with affection as a reward for behaving like a proper lady. like how their proper lady should behave.

you don’t need a gun to assert dominance or make them listen. you hold their wills in the power of your hands.

“yes, javi. please,” you whisper.

“what did you say, baby? please repeat, i didn’t hear it, i swear,” he pleads with you, sounding desperate, not taunting, like before. he genuinely didn’t hear you – or he did, but he just didn’t expect you to comply so easily. so willingly.

“please, javi. wan’ you to make me happy,” you lick your lips, turning your head so your lips ghost his earlobe, and he shudders slightly at the brief contact. “make my pussy happy. pretty please?” you plead innocently, the tone of your voice rising slightly, sounding as if you’re the spoiled daughter of a rich man. pairing your encantation with the submissive doe eyes you present, you give him an impossible deal to refuse.

“good girl, baby. the best girl,” he lets out a ragged breath in relief, his fingers making quick, delicate work of arranging your panties to the side, moving the obstacle out of the way. “don’t have to ask me twice, babygirl. would do anythin’ for you and your pretty pussy.”

a surprised gasp leaves your lips as he guides two fingers through your slit from bottom to top, gathering the wetness he encountered at your entrance to the surroundings of your clit. “oh, mierda, cariño. you’re soaked. is it because of me, hmm?” he presses a kiss to the corner of your eye while rolling your clit between his index and middle finger.

“ah, yes javi. yes,” you admit shamelessly, moans blessing his ears each time your little bundle of nerves receives additional stimulation when he pinches your clit.

“that’s right, baby, sing for me,” he urges you, his patience slipping with each passing moment as his resistance crumbles. the resistance implies forcing your legs even wider, making your knees bend abruptly before shoving you full of three fingers and making you scream while squirting all over his hand and the blanket below.

your eyes go wide when he eases his middle finger inside your tight hole. you’re both surprised that the act itself met not one single obstacle; his finger just made its way in like your walls were invisible, like your pussy saw it coming and decided to expand itself to make room for him, to accommodate everything he had to give.

“please, oh fuck yes,” you moaned shamelessly now, not bothering to hide the building pleasure javier caused right in front of his brothers in their own backyard. he responded in kind, loving the way you felt so comfortable letting yourself go – letting him know you love the way he touches you.

“such a tight pussy, baby. see how she hugs my fingers? hm? imagine it was my cock instead,” another finger joins in, making it two – stuffing you full, yet you can’t get enough. “would you prefer my cock, sweet girl? do you think it’ll fit?” his teases are back, but you pay them no mind. in fact, you love them. paired with the expert moves of his fingers fucking your vagina until your eyes roll in the back of your skull – it’s fucking amazing.

a soft laugh escapes his lips when you don’t bother to answer his question. you actually can’t seem to, really – he can tell you’re on the brink of orgasm by the way your chest rises and falls and your abdomen constricts along with your toes curling.

“no, i guess it won’t fit, cariño. not when you’re this fucking tight, sweet girl. jesus fuck,” the hand which was previously surrounding your waist changes its location to your right breast, squeezing it through the fabric and causing your soft nipple to rise to a little peak. it wasn’t enough, though. he needed to feel the softness of your skin and properly pinch your nipples. so his hand makes its way to your neckline and shimmies right underneath it in a desperate hurry to cup your naked breast and feel the angry little nipple in the palm of his hand. he gives you a squeeze which is a little rougher than intended before caging your nipple between his thumb and index to give it a proper rub and twirl, making you choke on your own moan.

“yes, javi, yes! please, more! don’t stop, don’t ever stop. gonna cum so hard…” you sob, feeling your vision blur and your cheeks getting wet a second after that.

fuck, you went feral. him and his brothers are so grateful they all witnessed the fact that you’re visibly into nipple play, and not only – breast play entirely. he makes quick note of that and stuffs it deep into his memory before continuing his rough administrations to your nipple compared to the loving strokes and poundings of his fingers in your cunt.

“then cum, sweetheart. go on. go on, little dove. thaat’s right, give me what i want. let go, let go. such a sweet little girl, lettin’ me take care of her. wanna see your poor pussy cry too, baby, not just your eyes. come on, baby, soak my fingers.”

he didn’t have to tell you twice. even though the rhythm of his fingers did not (thankfully) change, keeping you right where you’ve been all along, on the bridge of bliss and orgasm, his words were enough to send you over the edge as you closed your eyes and came around his fingers violently, your whole body trembling in his careful hold in contrast to your throbbing pussy pulsing out your release, gushing around his fingers and wetting the blanket with splash after splash as he guided you all the way through it, his arm tightening around your breast, making sure you never leave this safe heaven.

after you came down from your high, your body gradually relaxed and his fingers sadly parted themselves from their home. he let you close your legs and he even pulled the bottom of your dress as low as he could afford it, since most of the material was bunched underneath your bare ass sticking embarasingly to the wet blanket.

you open up your eyes to see marcus turning his gaze from you and back to his newspaper, trying his best not to seem affected by what just happened. but you know better, and judging by the immense bulge he unsuccesfully hides from you, you just know he wants nothing more than to make his way between your legs and stuff you full of his cum until you’re left shaking. he wouldn’t even need to take down his pants all the way through from how quick it would all be over. he practically witnessed how javier struggled to fit two fingers inside your cunt – his cock would basically choke.

joel was none the wiser. he was struggling to hold back even more than marcus; his fists were clenched at his sides, his jaw clenched, mouth closed shut along with a voluminous jugular vein pulsing furiously right beneath the tanned skin.

but you caught the red in his cheeks. he was visibly flushed, nervous and needy. eager to get a taste of you.

and so he did.

you stop breathing the moment he stalks towards you with a predatory look on his face, determined to dull the curiosity, grasping for something to claim from you.

all air is suddenly knocked out of your lungs when joel kneels in front of you and manhandles your legs apart, revealing your glistening pussy to his own gaze once more. she was all puffy and a bit swollen from before, the walls around the entrance pulsing and clenching around nothing as the opening looks much more evident and even wider than a few minutes ago.

“javier treated ya well, babygirl. took care of this lil’ girl jus’ right,” joel says, his deep, dominating tone making shivers crawl up your spine. “should clean her up. can’t leave her all messy.”

it’s all he says before diving head first into your cunt and licking all the juice dripping down your thighs and pussy. your ragged moan urges him to press on, despite your desperate attempts at begging him to take it slow on your overstimulated pussy. he doesn’t give a damn about your hands tangling and pulling his hair; he thinks it’s so fucking hot and it turns him on impossibly more, his cock aching for release in the confinement of his annoying boxers.

“mmm, ‘s right. goood girl,” he moans into your pussy, the vibrations adding more intensity to your building orgasm.

“you’re gonna cum on joel’s tongue, cariño? make a mess all over his face just like you did on my fingers?” javier whispers into your ear, the hand that warmed your breast starting to stir over the plump flesh to gather attention to your tortured nipple once more.

“yes… mmm, fuck yes. p-please, feels so, so… ah!”

“shh, that’s right, babygirl. let go. give it to joel, niiice and slow, thaaat’s it.”

your second orgasm practically makes you see stars. it comes fast and unexpected, crashing over you in the blink of an eye and lasting so long you wonder if you’ve gone blind. joel’s tongue fucks in an out of you, your poor hole trying to clench onto the thick muscle in an attempt to grab him and never let him go as he patiently laps up all your release with a content hum.

he presses a gentle kiss to your clitoris when he’s done. you can’t, won’t, open your eyes again. you don’t need to look at him to know the painful look he probably has on his face because he wishes he could do it all over again. never depart his face from between your legs.

his mind races to various ways and possibilities of making you cum on his face. next time, he’ll definitely make you ride his nose while making love to your pussy with his tongue and mouth. bringing you to several orgasms until you beg for him to put you out of your misery and sink himself into your tight warmth until you’re nothing but a whimpering toy.

one day, he thinks. one day, you’ll succumb to all of their wants and desires.

because you’ll be addicted. to how they make you feel, how they take care of you. to their smell and touch. to them. it’s all just a matter of time, which you and them have plenty of. because you’re never leaving them again.

[zorostitties]

Aurora; 11 (m)

⤕ Your existence had been an endless night, where shadows whispered long forgotten secrets. Trapped in a golden cage, your fragile mind and shattered memories were chains that kept you from dreaming of freedom. Then, he appeared with the first light of dawn, like a gentle sun warming your cold skin. In his gaze, the promise of a new beginning; in his presence, the sunrise your soul had longed for.

In which Alucard saves you from Erzsebet.

pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader

genre: angst, romance, slow burn, eventual smut

warnings: violence/blood, explicit language, mental health issues, grief, physical abuse.

rating: 18+

word count: 9k

A/N: HELLO WORLD!!! This one came a bit late but here it is!! Honestly this chapter was the trickiest to write bc I didn't know how to still make most of it entertaining. I'm proud of myself for DESTROYING this writer's block with my own hands, though. 😈 With this chapter, we reach the mid point of our story!! Not literally, though, because I don't know how many chapters we still have ahead of us lol BUT we're def in the middle. ANYWAY! Feedback as usual is VERY MUCH appreciated! If you've been reading this fic up until now and never commented, please send me a hi or anything. I'll love to know how you like the story. DON'T BE SHY AROUND ME BABYGIRL 😈 Enjoy <3

⤕  Masterlist  ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Playlist

Caution was the rule that dominated Olrox’s life.

He had learned from a young age that in order to survive in this world, you have to be cautious about everything. The people you let into your life, your enemies, the alliances you make; before speaking, you should listen. Before forming an opinion, you should take as much information as you could find. Before taking action, you should think about it – plan it, revise it, think about it again and again and again.

Caution was what kept Olrox alive while his city and his people burned. Caution was the reason why Olrox was still alive to this day despite all odds being against him. And caution was what told him he had to leave the Old World soon.

Olrox knew when a war was lost; he had tried to turn the tables in the past, and it led to nothing but pain. He knew better now. Sometimes, retreating is the best course of action.

Erzsebet had retrieved the second half of Sekhmet’s soul. Olrox tried to intervene by giving Alucard an advantage in the run after the mummy; the son of Dracula had failed to take it. There was nothing he could do anymore, not now that Europe became Sekhmet’s territory.

Olrox had to be cautious for the sake of his inner voice – even more than usual. Erzsebet was still no goddess, but she had managed to summon the soul of one back to the land of the living… and that was a clear commandment for him to stay away.

Which is why Olrox was shocked at himself when he left the docks and flew towards Paris.

Every instinct in him was yelling at him to turn back. Her stench was worse than ever; he could feel her power from miles and miles away. It made the tiny hairs in his arms raise, made him feel genuine repulse. He shouldn’t be anywhere near her. That wasn’t fear or cowardice as he knew Mizrak had assumed. That wasn’t even just his caution.

No… that was something that ran deep within Olrox – in his body, his spirit and his soul.

It was a law he shouldn’t break.

Preys shouldn’t sleep around predators. Earth shouldn’t stop spinning. Rain shouldn’t go upwards. Fish shouldn’t be out of the water.

A god shouldn’t be anywhere near another god.

That is why Olrox had been so cautious ever since the night Tenochtitlan burned. He had to take care for something other than his life – his inner voice.

But Olrox was marching towards Paris anyway, and even though he knew the rules better than anyone else, he couldn’t stop himself.

Perhaps because a part of him never got to terms with what happened to his people, all these centuries ago. Perhaps because, although he promised himself to never join any cause that wouldn’t benefit him only, he never got over the fact that he had failed more than once to fight for justice.

Or perhaps because Mizrak’s saddened brown eyes didn’t leave his mind for a second.

And spend a lifetime running from her? No.

This was Mizrak’s response to Olrox’s invite to come to the New World with him. Not because he didn’t want to go; but because he didn’t want to live a life hiding from Erzsebet.

And perhaps that was enough of a reason for Olrox to want to defeat her.

The closer he got to Paris, the more his heart tightened. He felt his limbs get weaker, a strange ill sensation set in his guts. He’d never felt the presence of another god so strongly like that; before, Erzsebet was just feeding off Sekhmet’s power. Now that she had settled another half of the deity’s soul, things got entirely different. Much more complicated.

The greater force overwhelms the weakest. Erzsebet-Sekhmet had claimed territory over the entirety of Paris, even if she did it unknowingly. It made things even harder to navigate.

But Olrox remembered that Mizrak, a simple human being, was somewhere down there fighting, so he shouldn’t make excuses.

Even so – he had to be careful. Facing Erzsebet directly would be unwise.

Then, he decided to focus on Drolta.

He never liked her. She reminded him of the Spanish Christians too much. Her obsession disgusted him. But he had to admit that she was strong – much more now in this horrendous form.

So Olrox wouldn’t be able to face her in his usual form, too.

The transformation was longer than he expected, took too much energy from him; even in this form, he wouldn’t be able to give his all. Sekhmet’s presence overwhelmed him. But Olrox pushed forward anyway until he no longer resembled a man, but a giant, glorious winged snake in the night sky.

He came in time to save Alucard from a certain strike.

Purple lightnings of pure power slashed the sky.

Drolta knew what she was dealing with immediately.

She groaned, wrapping her arm around her own stomach for a moment – the exact spot where the power jolt hit her – before taking flight once again. She narrowed her eyes and took a defensive position.

“Quetzalcoatl,” She hissed in a mix of surprise, anger and pain. “I should’ve known you were just a snake!”

Olrox attacked again.

The sky got brightened up in eerie purple flashes as their battle unraveled above the ceilings of Paris. Drolta was strong – much stronger than a regular night creature, but her previous fight with Alucard had taken a toll on her. Meanwhile, Olrox was fighting with half of his usual strength; being in Sekhmet’s territory weakened him deeply. In fact, transmuting into the Quetzalcoatl form was something he shouldn’t even be doing, but fighting in his normal form against her would be suicide.

The scales were evenly balanced in this fight.

Drolta slashed his body with her sharp nails – so strong that they could pierce even through his usually impenetrable scale armor, making him snarl in pain. Olrox sent more and more lightnings in her direction. She flew in zigzag, trying to avoid being hit, and every time one missed, it destroyed entire chunks of buildings; any time it hit, Drolta yelled in agony.

Olrox understood Alucard’s strategy: by keeping Erzsebet and Drolta apart, they’d have double chances to defeat them. He knew some magicians – including the Belmont boy – were somewhere down there fighting Sekhmet’s vessel. All he had to do was keep her busy while they worked, even though Olrox didn’t know how much longer he could take…

His inner voice was unsettled; he could feel His discomfort, how it tugged at the corners of his consciousness, making him lose focus for a second. Back away, He ordered Olrox; Go away. Take distance. You must not be near them. You must not.

Yes, Olrox knew that; he knew what he was doing was foolish and Olrox didn’t like to be foolish–

Wait.

Near... them?

But Sekhmet was the only deity there–

His eyes passed rapidly by the city’s cathedral, meters and meters away from where he was. There… there was a figure laid in front of its central doors.

And at that moment, the world stopped.

Nothing else mattered. His inner voice. Drolta or Erzsebet or Sekhmet. His caution.

None of that mattered anymore because it was Mizrak and he was bleeding to death.

A desperate snarl erupted from his throat as Olrox flew in his direction, leaving an injured and tired Drolta behind. He crossed the streets at an unnerving pace, way too fast for a creature so big, making humans down there gasp and run, not knowing if this was another enemy.

Olrox didn’t care about any of them. He got close to the ground, his dragon form dissolving in a black cloud until what resurfaced was a desperate man running towards Notre Dame.

As soon as he got a good look at Mizrak, his heart dropped.

The black haired monk bled from the stomach – he had been pierced. He was laying on the floor, his fist tightened against the wound; his breathing was shallow, his lips already had a nauseating blue color. Olrox knelt down by his side and immediately took him in his arms. Mizrak was getting cold.

This can’t be happening. It can’t be.

Mizrak, who was nothing but fair and virtuous and kind; Mizrak, who weeped at the death of unknown people and put his life on the line for them, even if he was just a fragile human. Mizrak, who made Olrox remember the best mankind had to offer.

And he was dying.

Olrox ripped some of Mizrak’s cape and pressed it against the wound to stanch the bleeding; he gently tapped his face, called his name a few times. To his relief, Mizrak opened his eyes – but there wasn’t much strength to him. His olive skin was sickeningly pale.

Mizrak looked confused, as if his sight was out of focus. Then, Olrox saw the moment his pupils dilated almost imperceptibly.

“Ol...rox?” He managed to speak somehow – his voice was but a ragged, painful breath.

“Shhh. Don’t speak.” The vampire shushed him softly before, with the utmost care, helping him to sit. Mizrak groaned in pain. Cold fear crept up Olrox’s body; he had already lost way too much blood. Medicine wouldn’t save him, and as far as Olrox knew, there weren’t any healers powerful enough to help in France…

It was then that Olrox realized that the cold he felt had nothing to do with fear.

His eyes widened.

The air smelled of coal and sulfur.

He looked behind his shoulder in time to see the tall shadow approaching.

Olrox brought Mizrak closer to him protectively. The entity grinned at them, trembling in what could be interpreted as excitement. At that moment, Olrox damned that fucking Abbot for the hundredth time for dragging Mizrak into all this.

“Old Man Coyote,” Olrox hissed. “He’s not for you.”

His inner voice got agitated, which surprised Olrox. He has been in the presence of this demon before, and He didn’t show much of a reaction… what had changed?

The shadow laughed mockingly – it was like multiple voices overlapping – before disappearing once again.

He had to take Mizrak out of there as soon as possible.

His original plan was to just teleport both of them out of there, but fuck – Olrox had exhausted himself with Drolta; the little strength he still had was being suppressed by Sekhmet’s presence. Olrox helped the monk get to his feet, putting Mizrak’s arm over his own shoulders. Olrox didn’t know how damaged his organs were, so he had to be delicate. Slowly, Olrox started to walk out of there.

“We’re not far from a safe place,” Olrox explained. “Hold on a little longer.”

Mizrak whimpered in response. His head was hanging low, he panted with difficulty. It just made Olrox feel even more desperate.

Then, out of nowhere, the monk raised his head.

A new emotion clouded his face.

“Olrox…” he called in a weak voice again. The vampire shushed him.

“Save it. Everything will be okay.” He didn’t know if he was trying to convince Mizrak or himself. The monk, however, got more and more agitated.

“No… Olrox… y-you have to…”

“Don’t exhaust yourself.”

Mizrak groaned again – but this time, it sounded more like frustration.

He looked over his shoulder; his eyes widened.

Using the little strength he still had, Mizrak put the entire weight of his body on Olrox’s side – making him lose his balance and stumble closer to the sidewalk.

“What–?” Olrox tried to say.

He had no time.

Mizrak got away from Olrox’s grip in a surprisingly swift movement and pushed him into an alley on their left.

The vampire fell on the cobblestones, completely confused; why did he do that? Did he not want to be saved? Was he disgusted of him–?

Light.

It came out of nowhere. It was blinding. It brightened up the whole sky.

Olrox watched with widened eyes as the avenue he was standing in a second ago was completely engulfed in light. He thought it was an explosion at first, but no boom or shockwave came. He felt his stomach drop, his fingertips shake.

Mizrak stood under the light with closed eyes.

Then, Olrox started to hear the screams.

They came from all directions, screams of the purest agony. Screams of death.

Things slowly made sense in his mind.

Olrox approached the corner of the alley. Hesitantly, he stretched his arm towards that light. His fingertips burned. He immediately flinched away.

That was sunlight, even though the sun itself was still hidden behind the eclipse.

He retreated and gazed at Mizrak in pure shock.

Mizrak… somehow, he knew that was going to happen. At the last minute, he pushed Olrox into that alley; it was between two tall buildings, reigned by shadows. Sunlight wouldn’t reach it from the position it was coming from.

That fragile human was on the verge of death himself, and even so, he saved Olrox’s life.

His heart tightened.

After no more than two minutes, the light diminished. Olrox didn’t care to learn where that came from, who caused it, and why it made his stomach drop like that. All he cared about was taking Mizrak in his arms again before he could fall. All he cared about was bringing Mizrak closer to him, cradling him, caressing his face.

Weakly, the monk put his gloved hand over Olrox’s.

He was visibly in so much pain. Even so, Mizrak’s half lidded eyes were full of determination and… care.

He took a deep, difficult breath before speaking.

“F-Fight.” Mizrak whispered. “For m-me.”

Olrox’s heart tightened even more.

The vampire never expected he’d find someone like this in the Old World. He never expected that this painful sweetness would take control of his actions again, of his sanity, overwhelming everything else – his usual caution, his selfishness, even his inner voice.

Mizrak represented everything Olrox loved about humanity.

So, if this fragile human asked him to fight – he would.

Olrox brought their faces closer to each other’s. He pressed his lips over Mizrak’s softly; his hand caressed the monk’s face gently. It was a chaste kiss – much different from all the kisses filled with passion and heat and anger they had shared. And yet, that simple press of lips ignited fire through Olrox’s soul much more than anything they’d done to each other before.

He could feel that something was happening not far from there. An explosion of red power that made him feel even more ill. That didn’t matter. Olrox just wanted keep closer to Mizrak for a second more.

Finally, he delicately laid Mizrak on the floor and got up. If he wanted to save the monk, he’d have to act fast; each wasted minute could cost Mizrak’s life.

Olrox was weakened. Olrox’s inner voice kept telling him to run away. He ignored all that and marched towards battle once more.

That day, Mizrak would lose his mortal life. And yet – he got something far more precious, far more powerful in return.

That day, Mizrak gained the heart of a god.

Drolta was tired.

Tired of the incompetence around her. Tired of these humans. Tired of waiting. She had waited for over a thousand years to awaken her goddess; century after century, she had roamed the Earth after a suitable vessel. Her only goal was to bring Sekhmet back. Everything she did was to comply with her duty as a High Priestess.

And she was tired of Erzsebet.

She took care of this woman for almost two centuries; fed her with her goddess’ holy blood, trained her, pampered her. Drolta killed thousands for Erzsebet’s sake. Drolta made a pact with a demon for Erzsebet’s sake.

And now that she had finally retrieved Sekhmet’s Ba after centuries of searching, how did Erzsebet repay her?

By being humiliated by a bunch of humans.

Drolta was tired.

So when she finally bit Erzsebet’s neck and sucked her blood, she felt nothing. There was a time when maybe, maybe, Drolta felt some sort of affection for her. Not anymore. Not now that she had ashamed and failed her.

This power belonged to her, after all. It had always belonged to her.

Drolta felt a wave of pure power penetrate her skin, her bones, her muscles, every centimeter of her body. It hurt like she was being pierced by a million needles, like she was being chewed by the biggest crocodiles of the Nile. An animalistic growl erupted from her throat; red energy revolved her, cloistered her, pierced her, clacking the air. The air got hotter than the midday sun in the Sahara. Her leathery skin smoked.

Pure agony was what her body felt; her mind, however, was enlightened – as if such excruciating pain broke the boundaries of consciousness.

So much power. It was as if she could see and hear everything at the same time, but all made sense; she could feel the weight of a spirit much, much higher than her permeate her mind. A spirit filled with anger and hate and blood thirst.

It almost felt like an inner voice, commanding her to attack.

Sekhmet, the Goddess of War; She Who Mauls.

Maniacal laughter escaped past her lips. The Belmont boy, knelt on the floor whilst holding the woman that carried a whisp of Sekhmet’s soul, looked at her with widened eyes. Yes; feel scared, be frightened, for I have returned. She was tired of him, too. Drolta had faced Belmonts in the past and she hated all of them throughout history. It was time for that clan to end.

But most of all – that girl he was holding had to die. Who did she think she was to get anywhere near Sekhmet’s Akh? How dare she disturb her goddess’ soul like that? She didn’t know what Sekhmet needed, what she represented. She had no right to be anywhere near her.

After these two, she’d go after that snake. Drolta never trusted Olrox enough, but she didn’t think he’d have the guts to actually face her… and most of all – she didn’t know what lied within him. You must destroy them, her inner voice growled in a wrathful female tone that did not belong to her.

The son of Dracula was next in line. She was also sick of him. He had killed her once, and she’d have her revenge. Drolta would not give him another chance to escape.

And lastly…

Ruby.

She had to die.

It was all Erzsebet’s incompetence, Drolta knew; all she had to do was keep that girl locked and away from the world, but she obviously failed. Drolta spent so long breaking into her, making her submissive – and it all went to waste in less than a week. Now, things were out of control. Ruby had obliterated most of her army. Ruby was remembering, and she shouldn’t remember anything.

But Erzsebet was dead and Drolta had retrieved Sekhmet’s power, so there was no use in keeping her alive anymore. It was time to fulfill her part on the pact and finally get freed of it.

Yes. Everything was within reach. Everything. There was nothing she couldn’t do; there was nothing she couldn’t achieve; there was no one powerful enough to stop her. I am Sekhmet, Goddess of War, her inner voice growled. And I want my revenge against the humans who have wronged me.

Drolta would be the harbinger of this revenge.

She raised her right arm, ready to slash the Belmont boy with her sharp nails–

And it was stopped midway.

It couldn’t be. Not him again.

Alucard stood between the couple and her, halting her attack with his long sword. That… that half-breed bastard was putting himself in the way again. She couldn’t stand looking at his face anymore, she’d took her time to kill him and she’d make it as painful as possible–

Drolta felt a shiver run down her spine.

A shiver?!

No. That couldn’t be possible… she was the Goddess of War and Revenge. She was more powerful than anyone on Earth. Nothing should be able to make her shiver.

Alucard let a raspy, angry scream. It was the first time he let any sort of extreme reaction in all the times they fought. The air around him became different. Drolta… Drolta could see things she couldn’t before. There was a red aura growing around him as rapidly as flames on hay.

His sclera got red.

And at that moment, Drolta knew why she felt a shiver.

His power and his aura and his eyes made her body remember the most powerful creature who had walked this Earth, the only man who ever made her feel real fear, the only man who ever made her obey.

Drolta shouldn’t have forgotten – but that was the son of Dracula.

He didn’t get turned into a vampire, he was born as one. The Vampire King’s masterpiece; the perfect alchemical aberration.

And Drolta realized with anger that during all of their fights until that moment, Alucard wasn’t giving his all.

She growled back at him and tried to attack with her left arm. Alucard deflected it and pushed her back with his sword. No. No one should be able to push her back. She was… she was stronger than anyone else, wasn’t she?!

Drolta launched herself towards him again – this time, he wouldn’t escape. Alucard’s face was distorted in a scowl of anger now. He pulled his cape to cover his body and teleported in a beam of yellow light – only to appear behind her.

She had time to turn back and see as Alucard summoned a giant ball of pure fire and lava in her direction.

Drolta stopped it with her bare hands, but that thing kept pushing and pushing and pushing with the force of thousands of tons; she grunted with the effort, felt the ground beneath her crack, the air get so hot that it boiled the skin of her palms. No, she wouldn’t be defeated. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t.

Drolta yelled when she finally managed to kick that thing away in the Belmont boy’s direction. Unfortunately, he deflected it somehow.

For the first time, she focused her gaze on him again.

The Belmont boy walked towards her, took his whip in his hands; a serious, stone hard expression covered his features. She could see it, too – the blue aura growing around him, invisible to the human eye. He’d never transpired as much power as in that moment. Shouldn’t he be at least tired after fighting against Erzsebet?

The girl behind him, the one that carried a whisp of Sekhmet’s soul…

Mortals work better when they are in their best feelings.

Love is extremely powerful in magical terms.

Drolta found all that pathetic.

Another maniacal laughter erupted from her throat as both men got ready to fight her: Alucard’s sword embedded in red fire, the Belmont boy’s whip embedded in blue. Pathetic is what both of them were. All of them were pathetic – these humans soldiers, the weak vampires that died in battle, Erzsebet, this disgusting city. They all would soon be trembling under her feet; it’s where every living creature deserved to be. Fear is what would unite this world. Fear would be her crown.

They attacked.

Drolta used her hair tentacles to deflect them. Each tentacle had an extremely sharp blade on their tips; they were able to cut through concrete and cobblestones with ease as they whipped around violently. Perhaps Alucard would be able to heal from such injuries, but the human boy wouldn’t – so she focused mostly on him.

Both men immediately understood her tactic.

They fought in synchronicity as if they were connected somehow, attacking while protecting each other. The Belmont snapped his whip around him, twirled mid air to create a field of protection around his body while pushing her tentacles away; whenever one got too dangerously close, Alucard cut them. Drolta was able to regenerate the tentacles fast with her new powers, but it still burned whenever one of them were able to slash her.

That wasn’t going how she wanted it.

Drolta used her nails to try to cut them, her legs to try to kick them, her tentacles to try to strangle them; they always somehow got away. The Belmont summoned fire and ice and lightning against her, somehow piercing through her thick skin; the red flames of Alucard’s sword burned her and his sheer swordsmanship confused her, forced her to be on her toes the entire time. The vampire made sure to tank her heaviest blows so the Belmont could attack with his magic freely.

Alucard jiggled from side to side in the blink of an eye – so fast that even her sharp senses failed to follow. Drolta couldn’t expect where his next attack would come from; his sword twirled in the air creating arches of death, trying to reach for her neck before falling in the hands of its owner again. He was even faster now compared to their previous fights, even more brutal, his precision heightened to two hundred percent.

Excruciating pain.

Drota widened her eyes. Blood spilled from her right shoulder and hair tentacles.

She was so focused on Alucard that she didn’t see when the Belmont sent a sharp ice shuriken wrapped in electricity her way.

Alucard didn’t give her time to recover.

He pushed her up towards the sky – up, up, up, each push more and more violent; his attacks came from all sides, his sword slashing and piercing her leathery skin, each cut deeper than the other. Alucard’s strikes were so fast and so intense and so disorienting and so painful that Drolta couldn’t help but stop for a moment to try to protect her body with her arms and tentacles; he didn’t give her any opening.

Enough!

Drolta screamed in both anger and pain. She whipped all of her tentacles towards him at the same time, finally managing to push him; Alucard fell many meters away back to the ground, creating a crater where he hit.

She smiled. There’s no way he didn’t get slashed by her tentacles this time–

The whip tangled around her neck.

Drolta didn’t have time to prepare for the kick on her face the Belmont struck, propelled by his fire magic. He kicked again, punched her head, kicked again; Drolta growled, feeling rage fill her more and more. That human scum had the audacity to hit her with his bare hands?!

She clasped her hands together and hammered him down to the ground. The boy hit the cobblestones on his back, blood spilled from his lips. Drolta grinned at his immobile figure; she made her nails grow until they were as long as a blade before flapping her wings and flying down on a beeline towards him. Oh, she’d pierce through his chest. She’d take pleasure in ripping his heart out with him still alive.

Her nails were centimeters away from his body…

And then, she couldn’t feel her left hand anymore.

Drolta had forgotten about the ice shuriken he made earlier.

It cut her entire hand off.

She yelled in agonizing pain and stumbled away, holding the severed arm close to her chest. He… he cut her hand off. That fucking human boy cut her hand off.

Anger as red as the sky above her rose from her heart.

Her body got once again wrapped in energy. Crimson electricity clacked around her; her tentacles moved around frenetically like angry snakes. No. That couldn’t be happening. She had achieved the power she sought for over a thousand years. These two couldn’t be offering her enough of a challenge… that didn’t make sense.

Her inner voice growled.

Will you continue playing around with my power like this?

Drolta was tired.

She turned to face them at the exact moment they would attack together.

Time stopped.

Drolta gazed at both men. They were frozen in the air centimeters away from her. They had painful expressions. She could see them struggling to break away from her spell.

The woman laughed and straightened her posture. She lifted her severed arm. After focusing a bit more energy there, it regenerated in the blink of an eye; bone, muscle, veins, flesh and skin rebuilding a new hand in seconds, much faster than Ruby’s healing. Her inner voice was right. She’d already given these two insects enough time to play around. She’d been fighting with what she knew; using her body and strength. But… that was only the surface of what a goddess could do.

Drolta focused on this new power, letting her heightened consciousness travel through it. The larger spirit that now inhabited her body had an infinite reservoir of power. So, so much power; so much energy. The possibilities of what she could do were infinite. They went much beyond just making her skin thicker, her muscles bigger or her tentacles sharper.

It didn’t matter that her opponents were the son of Dracula and this Belmont. Alucard wasn’t Dracula himself, he only had a fraction of his father’s power. And the Belmont… he was just a human magician.

Her newly grown hand got wrapped in pure energy.

She grinned and pointed her hand towards Alucard.

He had to go first. Not only because she despised him, but because he was hindering her attacks the most, confusing her, getting in the way and acting as a shield for the human boy.

Drolta unleashed a wave of red energy his way.

It blew on his face. Alucard groaned in pain as he was sent flying back meters and meters away, hitting a building on his way – destroying half of it – before hitting the floor the same way he did to her earlier at the Notre Dame.

And then – it was just her and the Belmont boy, frozen in time in front of her.

Drolta chuckled with cruelty again. He didn’t have his vampire shield anymore. That wave of energy would tear him to pieces.

Slowly, she aimed her hand at him.

For every suffering, a wisdom is gained, she thought. Maybe if this fight hadn’t happened, Drolta wouldn’t have realized the true extension of her new powers. For that, she was grateful. A goddess shouldn’t fight like a mortal. Now, she knew how to obliterate this city with a flick of fingers. After the Belmont boy was done – and after she beheaded Alucard; she knew that wasn’t enough to kill him – she would have no enemies powerful enough to face her anymore…

Her thoughts got interrupted by a punch.

Drolta got dizzy for a moment.

What?!

The Belmont boy – he broke away from her freezing spell and landed his fiery fist on her face.

Love is extremely powerful in magical terms.

Drolta growled. She hated him. She hated him. She HATED him! He had to die. He was going to die right now. She raised her hand wrapped in power again to annihilate him – there was no way this human boy would survive her next attack–

The next second – all her power was gone.

That girl the Belmont put his life on the line to protect… she was floating in front of Drolta, holding her wrist with her much smaller hand.

And yet, when she squeezed Drolta’s wrist, she yelled in pain and fell to her knees.

Drolta looked deep within that girl’s eyes. They were golden, her irises were vertical like a feline’s. Her grip was hotter than Alucard’s lava ball; her expression was ferocious like a lioness’.

At that moment, Drolta finally understood.

That girl wasn’t stealing her goddess’ power. That girl… somehow she did what not even Erzsebet was able to do.

She became an avatar.

Drolta wasn’t looking at a human girl. Drolta was looking straight into the eyes of Sekhmet.

She shivered.

A part of Drolta wanted to smile, wanted to bow. Finally… after a thousand years, after uncountable nights of prayers, after sweat and blood and tears dropped, she stood in front of her goddess. The one she always fought for. The one who possessed her utmost loyalty and adoration. The one whom Drolta went to the ends of the world for; the one whom Drolta went as far as making a pact with a demon for her sake.

Drolta had fantasized of this moment many times before… the day she’d finally have Sekhmet walk on Earth again; and, if she died trying, the moment her goddess would meet her with open arms at the duat, after Anubis had weighed her heart as righteous and deserving of eternal rest.

But that was not how Sekhmet was looking at her at that moment.

Her golden eyes were clouded by rage and disapproval.

And, for the first time since her mortal days, Drolta felt shame.

“I am Sekhmet!” Her goddess growled as a golden aura grew around her like flames. “Guardian of the Dawn, Child of the Sun, Mistress of Healing!”

Drolta’s entire body shook in pain.

“I did this for you!” Drolta claimed. “All of this! I did it for you!”

“Made yourself into this unclean thing!” Sekhmet vociferated – and, as she spoke, Drolta realized that her inner voice was repeating the same words in unison; she felt as the soul within her and Sekhmet in front of her connected their consciousnesses into a single one. “Filled my temple with atrocities! Fed my soul to a disgusting walking corpse!”

Tears welled up Drolta’s eyes. Her chin trembled.

“So that you could live again!” She tried again; her goddess had to understand, she had to… “I-I thought it was what you wanted! I thought it was what you wanted!”

“It is time to balance the scales!” Sekhmet declared.

At that moment, reality hit Drolta.

Her beloved goddess. The one she had worshiped and served her entire life, from her mortal days to her vampire days to her reborn form…

Sekhmet was disappointed at her.

No. It was more than that.

Sekhmet despised her.

Tears dripped down Drolta’s cheeks.

“I thought it was what you wanted…” she whispered one last time. Pain much stronger than any physical attack slashed through her soul.

In less than a minute, Drolta’s determination was gone.

Her existence was pointless.

She did not fight as Sekhmet started to pull her power – her souls – back from Drolta’s body. She yelled in pain until her throat ached. She yelled for all the years gone to waste. She yelled as she felt her heart breaking into a million pieces.

Drolta weeped for the only real love she ever had as it turned its back on her, forever.

Alucard hadn’t completely healed the wound in his chest when Annette– Sekhmet intervened in the fight.

He almost sighed in relief when she did. He barely made it out alive of Drolta’s last attack; Richter wouldn’t have stood a chance. He stayed knelt on the floor holding his chest. Surprisingly, her attack made a lot of internal damage, but his skin wasn’t pierced – which didn’t mean he didn’t get hurt or wasn’t in pain.

But that pain could wait for now.

Because Richter was trying to reach Annette’s body as Sekhmet pulled her souls back.

Both of them – Annette and Drolta – were involved in a gigantic golden aura, as bright and as hot as the sun. Her power was jarring, he could feel it with every centimeter of his body. Richter made his way towards Annette with difficulty; he covered his arms with a layer of ice to try to lessen the burns before hugging her from behind.

A part of Alucard – the methodical part – was annoyed that this boy was intervening in the process. That was their only chance of putting Sekhmet’s souls where they belonged: out of anyone’s reach.

But Alucard’s mortal heart spoke much, much louder this time.

Because Richter was just a boy. Much stronger than the average human, carrying the heavy Belmont crest on his back with the responsibilities it possessed, one of the few mortals on Earth who could actually be a threat to a goddess.

But he was still just a boy in the end.

And like all Belmonts, he carried a heart too big, too sincere. It was a burden and a blessing at the same time. His heart made him experience the world in more intense ways than any other human Alucard ever met.

Richter was a Belmont. Like Juste, like his grandfather, his great-grandfather… like Simon. Like Trevor.

And on top of that, Richter was in love – and Annette could die at that moment, be consumed by Sekhmet’s power. This boy with a heart too big wouldn’t know what to do if he lost the one he loved the most.

So Alucard had to step in before he’d do something he would regret.

“Richter. My friend.” He called softly, resting his hand on the boy’s back, right over the Belmont crest.

Richter looked at Alucard with round blue eyes – scared blue eyes. I don’t care if we live in eternal fucking darkness, just leave Annette alone!, are the words that had just left Richter’s mouth. Alucard knew Richter didn’t process the true gravity of these statements, but at the heat of the moment, anything could become true.

He needed someone to be the voice of reason.

Alucard looked at him with empathy and quiet sadness.

“You know that’s not what she’d want.”

Richter gulped.

He tightened his eyes for a moment before finally – hesitantly – letting go of Annette.

Both men stepped back.

The golden aura between Annette and Drolta got stronger, more volatile. Tears of blood dripped down Annette’s eyes; Drolta screamed in pain like a hurt animal. The light got so strong that they had to protect their eyes.

Finally, with a last agonizing yell, that volatile aura exploded.

A shockwave hit them. Annette let go of Drolta’s wrist, each falling in a different direction; Richter rushed to catch her body before she could hit the floor.

Sekhmet’s presence was in this world no more.

Alucard would’ve sighed in relief if Annette weren’t in such a critical condition.

Richter was knelt on the floor while holding the girl in his arms. She was unresponsive. Richter called her over and over again, on the verge of tears; the scene made Alucard feel as if a cold hand gripped his heart.

He stood at some distance to give them space. In moments like this, Alucard wished he’d be fit to summon healing – it was one of the rarest forms of magic in existence. Healing someone else takes an absurd amount of energy… and this form of magic is not part of a vampire’s existence.

So there was nothing he could do at that moment but watch.

Richter was so young... he shouldn’t have to experience this type of loss so soon, especially when he didn’t even have the chance to confess his true (obvious) feelings.

You said you’d be here; make her feel it’s true. That she can always come back to you.

These were the words Alucard told him.

So, with a weak, trembling voice, Richter started his whispered confession.

His blue eyes were drowning in tears, but he still tried to sound firm as he described quietly the moment they first met. It even felt wrong for Alucard to witness this moment of fragility; he’d rather not be there at that moment, but he couldn’t walk away when they weren’t sure if their enemies were really gone. So Alucard chose to stand away from his field of view, but still protectively close. Richter held her gently.

“I can’t imagine the world without you, Annette. Any of it,” his voice was but a hopeful whisper. “Not hearing your voice, not seeing you roll your eyes at me, not waking up to know that whatever happens, somewhere, you are there. Please… don’t leave me. Please.”

Alucard tightened his lips. He felt genuine sadness at the boy’s heartfelt words.

...Something changed.

Annette’s body started to shine. Richter widened his eyes, startled.

But that shine was very brief this time. When it disappeared, Annette was herself again; her usual clothes were back, her hair was short again.

Alucard held his breath in anticipation.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. They were no longer soulless, her pupils weren’t vertical anymore… just her usual brown and round eyes.

“...You smell of burning,” she said in a weak, raspy voice.

Richter gasped. Fear immediately left his gaze, being replaced by utmost relief and joy. He chuckled and sighed. “Y-Yeah, that would be you… you’re like holding burning coals.”

Alucard watched with a small, serene smile while they hugged each other and cried.

He knew that feeling very well. Being so deeply in love with someone that your heart aches for them. Caring so much about someone that being apart brings genuine suffering. Sharing their sadness, their happiness, wanting to support them at every moment, knowing them intimately – and receiving this same intensity back.

Alucard had fallen in love countless times during his life… but it’s been a long time since he let himself feel it to the fullest. He decided to shroud his heart after so much pain, so much longing. At the slightest sign that he was beginning to develop feelings for someone, he’d immediately distance himself. He couldn’t bear going through anything like that anymore.

But at that moment, he realized something.

He’d been running away from pain and longing for so long that he had forgotten how love can be… sweet.

Was… was Alucard ready to feel it at its full intensity one more time?

Would his heart be strong enough to bear this again?

Did he even have the right to feel it, especially considering who this involved? What if the other end was too fragile to take him? Would Alucard take the pain of allowing himself to feel something like this again, only to have it ripped away from him like so many times in the past?

Would it be fair for him and for her?

Alucard didn’t know.

And his thoughts came to a halt when an anguished scream slashed the air.

Drolta.

She held her head, her breathing was irregular… for a second, she looked absolutely lost – almost like a child throwing a tantrum.

Drolta gazed at a confused Annette with pure hatred.

Then – Alucard saw the exact second she realized something.

Her eyes widened. Her back stiffened.

Alucard saw everything that unraveled in the next few seconds in slow motion.

Drolta turned her head to the northeast. At first, the vampire thought she wanted to flee – she was obviously weakened now; she had no power source, no army and no chances of winning. Of course, he would never let her go; his hand already gripped the hilt of the sword.

But then, Alucard saw her expression. The aggressiveness. The hurry in her gaze.

Those were not the eyes of someone planning to run away; they didn’t reflect defeat. That was not the gaze of a desperate woman wanting to go down fighting.

That was the gaze of a woman who had a plan.

And when she extended her giant wings and took flight, Alucard realized.

Notre Dame was at northeast.

He unsheathed his sword and flew.

Alucard hadn’t healed his wound completely; his brusque movement sent jolts of pain through his body. But at that moment, that didn’t matter – nothing else mattered, his mind went completely blank. Because even though Erzsebet was dead and Drolta was weakened and most certainly defeated, she still wanted to retrieve Ruby.

He would never let that happen.

They clashed mid air.

Drolta’s reflexes were slower now. Though she already sensed Alucard behind her, she couldn’t defend herself when he threw a heavy blow against her – sending her straight to the ground again not far from where they stood initially. A crater opened where her body hit, rising a cloud of smoke and debris.

She didn’t even have time to recover. Alucard was already upon her.

Both of them were slower, their limbs heavier, their powers weakened – but none of them wanted to lose. Alucard noticed that by Drolta’s fighting style, she was more worried in brushing him away than actually killing him. Her movements showed urgency. In fact, she looked almost desperate. Alucard was in a hurry, too; he didn’t know if Richter could still fight, considering the amount of blows he took, and Annette didn’t look like she could fight at that moment.

What was her plan? Why did she still want to get to Ruby? Sekhmet had completely vanished, the eclipse was still up in the sky – so what use would Ruby have? That couldn’t be just revenge. Drolta might’ve been defeated, but she would never lash out uselessly like this.

These answers would stay unanswered because Alucard needed to kill her.

He was tired of that woman, of the destruction she had caused, of the pain she inflicted. He’d been tracking her for five years – he needed to finish her right then and right there, he needed to end this chapter of his life. If Drolta staying alive meant Ruby would still be in danger, then there were no questions to be asked. She had to go – and she had to go now.

But Drolta was as determined as him.

She elbowed his chin in a blow that left him dazed; she gripped the hilt the sword and grabbed it from his hands. Then, she kicked his chest–

Right where the internal wound still hadn’t healed.

Alucard lost his senses for a second and fell on his back. He felt the taste of his own blood, his vision got blurred, extreme pain radiated from that spot in his chest to the rest of his body. As if she knew that was where the wound was, Drolta pressed her hoof right there to keep him on the ground. Alucard groaned in pain, trying to push her away–

His eyes widened when he looked up and realized what she was about to do.

Alucard had time to put his forearm in front of his body for some protection before Drolta impaled him with his own sword.

He screamed. The blade pierced through his forearm directly into his shoulder – if Alucard hadn’t moved a few centimeters up, she would’ve pierced his heart. With an angry growl, Drolta hammered the hilt of the sword with her fist with such strength that the blade sank into him, piercing the ground below.

Alucard spat blood. The pain was so extreme that he couldn’t think for a moment. Shit, I need to get up. I need to keep fighting. Get up!

His vision was still blurred when he saw Drolta being whipped from behind.

The woman let another yell of anger and pain before stumbling away from Alucard and turning around; Richter was, somehow, still standing. He had rushed to retrieve his whip which was already soaked in blue flames. His flames were visibly weakened now, showing the true state of his physical condition. Richter’s eyes, however, didn’t looked weakened; he sent a fast worried glimpse towards Alucard before gazing at Drolta with determination.

Alucard could hear the sounds of the fight happening beside him, but he didn’t look; he was too focused in trying to get his sword off him. He gripped it with his right hand and started to push it up. Every centimeter it moved send jolts of more pain throught his body. The internal wound and the wound Drolta had just inflicted hurt, his body was weak, his senses were slow – none of that mattered. He had to get up. He had to get up. Richter wouldn’t be able to fight for much longer. Get the fuck up!

With a last groan of pain, Alucard finally managed to take out the sword, holding it by the blade; it was completely soaked with his own blood. He looked towards Richter’s direction and his stomach dropped.

The Belmont boy was about to get hit with no defense.

“Richter!” Alucard managed to scream…

But a new sound completely engulfed his voice.

A purple lightning slashed the air.

Both Richter and Alucard looked above with shocked expressions as a giant winged snake floated near them.

Olrox hit Drolta on the chest with his electric attack; she screamed in agonizing pain, her whole body had spasms. Alucard didn’t expect that Olrox would come back, especially not to save Richter. The Belmont boy himself seemed shocked, though his eyes had anger and resentment in them.

Alucard took these small moments of distraction to stand up and hold the hilt of his sword again. He’d let himself feel pain and tiredness later.

With his last breath of strength, he ignited his sword in red fire once more.

Richter got the message.

As soon as Olrox’s attack ceased, Richter snapped his whip; it entangled around Drolta’s neck. She was too disoriented to resist. Richter pulled the whip, forcing her to bend on her back.

Alucard jumped in the air.

The sword was ready to come down on her neck.

Unexpectedly, Olrox sent another of his attacks – but this time, he aimed the lightning at Alucard’s blade, wrapping it in purple electricity which mixed with Alucard’s red fire.

Time slowed down once more.

Alucard could see everything with clarity: the air clacking with purple sparks around him. Richter’s blue fire burning Drolta’s neck. The reflection of his red fire on her face. Her widened eyes in an expression Alucard knew very well: the gaze of someone realizing they have nowhere else to go. The gaze of someone finally understanding they are about to die.

With the way Richter forced Drolta to bend, the ruby necklace came to rest directly over her neck. It was time to fullfill the promise Alucard made to Ruby and to himself.

The blade came down on Drolta’s neck.

A sanctified silver sword. The purple magic of a god. The red fire of a dhampir.

Nothing could withstand that.

The ruby stone was shattered to pieces.

Drolta’s thick skin offered no resistance.

And then – an explosion.

The three of them were sent flying back. The explosion was red; it had a strange cold feeling, it smelled of sulfur. Alucard had time to see an incredible amount of energy being released from the jewel when he broke it apart. The destruction of the ruby caused the explosion, which made Alucard realize in shock that that was never a regular necklace.

The explosion rumbled the entire city of Paris.

Then… silence.

Alucard got up with difficulty again. Richter too, a few meters away from him. Olrox’s dragon form floated above them. Drolta’s lifeless body stayed in the middle.

The air seemed lighter. The city was eerily quiet.

Alucard looked up.

The shadow that covered the sun… it was slowly disappearing.

It… it was over.

Alucard gripped the wound on his left shoulder. It still bled. Now, his whole body was in pain, but he still stood – because something else could unravel in front of him.

Richter and Olrox stood face to face. A giant winged greature and a Belmont. Richter’s whip was still ignited.

Alucard watched them with anxiety. He knew what had happened to Richter’s mother… and he also knew that neither him or Richter were in condition to fight anymore.

But Richter closed his eyes for a moment.

“...I will kill you, Olrox. One day.” Finally, the blue flames of his whip went out. “But not today.”

He opened his eyes.

They gave each other a last meaningful gaze before Olrox retreated in a shadow of pitch black smoke.

Alucard almost sighed in relief.

The red color of the sky was slowly being replaced by its original blue. The vampire closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself feel relief. He could hear the sounds of the city again… citizens realizing the eclipse was over… people walking on the streets…

Five years of searching for Sekhmet’s mummy, of planning a strategy against them, of finding ways to defeat their troops…

It was finally over.

Alucard opened his eyes once more. Richter was limping his way towards Annette. He saw Juste and Maria, many meters away from where they were, waking up. It’s a miracle that all of them ended up alive…

But he caught something with the corner of his eye – and it immediately made him freeze.

Alucard whipped his head towards Drolta’s body.

She was still laying there. Beheaded. No signs of life at all.

But the shadows below her were moving.

They were getting thicker. The shadows of the entire square seemed to be getting pulled towards Drolta’s body; they twirled under her like a whirpool of pitch black. Alucard gripped his sword. Richter took his whip again. Annette stumbled back. The temperature seemed to drop at least ten degrees.

The air smelled of coal and sulfur.

A black figure rose from within the shadows. It grinned down at Drolta; something that sounded like mocking laughter hovered in the air.

They watched in shock as the shadows engulfed Drolta’s body – and then, both of them were gone.

You were… confused.

You could hear and see. You knew there was something violent happening somewhere in the city; colorful explosions, shockwaves and earthquakes, thunders and the sounds of destruction. You could hear Henri’s and Charle’s nervous chatter somewhere beside you. And yet – it’s like you weren’t really there. As if your mind and body were disconnected somehow. As if… you couldn’t react to anything.

You felt strangely at peace.

You knew that the sky started to get clear at some point. You heard the boys celebrating behind you. But… you couldn’t really move from that spot on the balcony of the north bell tower. You didn’t want to stand up.

A familiar touch on your back.

“Ruby?”

You turned your head to the side slowly. That was… that was Alucard. Yes. Alucard. You knew him. He had knelt on the ground beside you.

“...Hello.” You heard a voice say from a distance… your voice. You said that.

Alucard had a worried expression in his face. His hair was gloriously disheveled, the strong winds at the top of Notre Dame played with it. The fair skin of his face was… dirty. He was all dirty, in fact.

You knew they were talking about you. “I… I think she’s not okay, Mr. Alucard,” Henri said in a hesitant and worried voice. “She’s not reacting to anything. It’s like she’s on some sort of trance,” Charles completed. Alucard placed his hand over your forehead – why was he doing that again? – his frown deepened. Heavens, he was so beautiful. So, so beautiful. Even with the disheveled hair and all the dirt. You coudn’t do anything but look at him; you didn’t bother when Alucard instructed the boys – “You should take care of the wound on your shoulder, son,” he told Henri. “There are nurses out there. Get medical aid. I’ll take care of her.”

You knew the two boys were walking out of the tower towards the stairs. A part of you wanted to stop them to properly say thank you, but your body didn’t want to move. So you just gazed at Alucard instead.

He held your arm softly. “Ruby, are you listening to me?” he asked in a worried voice.

His eyes widened in surprise when you touched his cheek.

“You’re hurt,” you heard your voice say from afar again.

If you were fully conscious, you’d never be brave enough to touch him like that. But it’s like you weren’t even there, so nothing felt real. You brushed some strands of hair away from his face and cupped his cheek delicately.

“You’re tired,” your voice said again. Your eyes dropped below – and for the first time, you noticed a gash in his jacket, right over his right shoulder… “You’re bleeding.”

Alucard rested his hand over yours, which made you look up again. He had a tiny smile on his lips, though his brows were still slightly furrowed. He gazed at you with… affection. It made your body feel warm on the inside. His hand was bigger than yours. Even through the leather glove, you could feel his warmth.

“I’ll heal anyway. Don’t worry about me.” You knew he was just light-heartedly repeating what you already told him over and over again. “Are you hurt?”

You frowned and looked down again.

“No. But I feel strange.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know. I’m… distant. And I’m tired.” You looked at him again. Alucard didn’t move to take your hand away from his face. His own still rested above yours, his thumb caressing your fingers slowly. “You’re hurt.”

“You already said that.” Alucard chuckled lightly before a bit of seriousness covered his expression once more. Finally, he wrapped his hand around yours and took it away from his face; he didn’t let go of it, however, resting both of them over your lap. He looked hesitant before speaking.

“Ruby… Drolta and Erzsebet are dead.”

You stared at him in silence for long seconds.

“Are… they?” Alucard nodded slowly. “Are you sure?”

Alucard hesitated for a second. You saw a glimpse of something you couldn’t understand cross his gaze.

But he nodded again in the end. “Yes. No mistakes this time.”

You lowered your head and… smiled.

Where did that smile come from? Why were you smiling in the first place? You had no idea.

Erzsebet and Drolta are dead.

The mere mention of their names made you feel… closer to your body, somehow. As if things were starting to get real again.

The sun was shining once more. You should’ve understood what that meant. The eclipse had vanished… and so had the Vampire Messiah.

Erzsebet and Drolta are dead. They are dead.

You didn’t know where the tears came from.

They came spontaneously, unannounced. You covered your mouth, trying to swallow a sob; your body was shaking. What were you crying for? Happiness? Relief? Sadness? Grief? Hatred? Pain? You had no idea. But you couldn’t stop, you didn’t know how. When was the last time you let yourself cry freely like that, without trying to be silent, without muffling any sob?

Drolta didn’t like the sound of you crying… so probably never.

But she was dead now.

Maybe if you were in your right mind, you wouldn’t have wrapped your arms around Alucard’s neck, embracing him in a tight hug. Maybe you wouldn’t have hid your face in his shoulder. No, you wouldn’t have the courage. But nothing felt much real at that moment, so you didn’t really care.

Alucard hugged you back immediately, offering no resistance, no hesitance. He kept you close, kept you tight. Tighter than your previous hug. Maybe if you were in your right mind, you would’ve shivered when he hid his face on your neck, too. Maybe your legs would’ve lost all of their strength when you felt his hot breath there, the touch of his soft cheek on your skin. All you could do was cry in a way you never did before.

At some point, you heard your voice stuttering a strangled thank you.

Alucard sighed deeply.

The morning sun kissed you both. The city down there was still in chaos – too many losses, too much damage, too many questions to be answered. You and him were still in he eye of the hurricane. But at that moment, nothing felt too real, so you didn’t care.

Nothing but him felt real. Him, and the fact that those who hurt you were gone from this world definitely. Him, his embrace and the way he warmed you up.

The voice of that unknown woman whispered in your ears once more – and, for some reason, it brought even more tears to your eyes.

...Love doesn’t burn.

Love warms up.

It was over.

[michanvalentine]

I was mentioned in a pro-Ascendant Astarion post with this quote: "Astarion does not have a well-developed sense of self, and by default, he also lacks many of the skills that a well-adjusted adult should possess." This is the post it’s taken from: click me!

No problem at all—it's public, and I don’t see why anyone shouldn’t reference it. Naturally, the post was in opposition to that statement—generally speaking, I mean—but that’s fine too. Everyone has their own opinion and is free to express it. That’s not the point of my upcoming ramble! xD

It’s just that rereading my own words got me thinking more deeply about the topic and made me want to explore it further.

Now, I’m not a psychologist, but I did study psychology. I took several exams at university and I actually did pretty well, lol. I didn’t complete my studies because life took me elsewhere—most importantly, my daughter was born—but the general knowledge I gained from psychology still follows me in everything I do every day.

So it’s second nature for me to analyze characters from the media I consume through that lens—Astarion included. Of course, this is just my perspective; I can’t say for certain whether the developers intended this for his character or whether they did specific research into his psychological development.

That said, today I feel like going off on a little tangent about this beautiful science. Still in reference to that heart-stealing vampire spawn that I’m aaaaabsolutely not obsessed with.

Let me also add a disclaimer. The concepts mentioned are just examples and cannot be applied literally, as every person is different and reacts differently to situations and stimuli. Likewise, the brain is plastic—neural connections change and adapt, and there is almost never a fixed or definitive condition. Above all, I’m not making any kind of diagnosis! That’s not within my competence! Keep these ideas well in mind!

So, why do I say that Astarion doesn’t have a well-developed sense of self? Let’s take it step by step and talk a little about the concept of the "self". I'm copy-pasting something from another post, lol. Rewriting it from scratch is too much work! xP

The self is quite a complex concept with many facets. Briefly put, it’s shaped by various internal and external factors and reflects a conscious image of "me." In psychology, it’s key to building the Ego of an individual—the capacity to act, understand, organize, and interpret experiences. The Ego provides a sense of uniqueness, coherence, and personal continuity since the self encompasses many "faces." All this forms the personality of an individual, which naturally develops (and changes) throughout life.

Particular attention in the formation of the self is given to sensitive periods, such as early childhood. The self determines the level of self-esteem based on an individual’s assessment of their worth and competence in the characteristics they attribute to themselves (Real Self), their future aspirations (Ideal Self), and what they want to avoid (Feared Selves). The greater the discrepancy between these aspects, the lower the level of self-esteem. Social support and approval, as well as competence in domains deemed important to the self, obviously contribute to perceiving oneself as a person of value.

Astarion, as we know, has had his sense of self fundamentally undermined. For him, the world is divided between those who have power and those who don’t, with the former always being the "winners" in his eyes. The magistrate he once was is long dead, along with his moral compass and the life he used to live—especially after 200 years of servitude to Cazador.

As vampire spawn, akin to a newborn in some respects, Astarion learned to exist solely within Cazador’s world, revolving around Cazador, for Cazador.

There are lines of dialogue within the game that highlight this in a painful and terrifying way. For example, when Tav/Durge directly confronts Cazador, or when Cazador ends up on his knees in front of Astarion after one of his brothers or sisters dies during the ritual. Cazador says: “He [Astarion] is afraid. He’s afraid because all he has ever knows is you and me. And without us, he is nothing.” Or: “And then? What will you be without me? A shade? A specrte in the shadows, devoid of all purpose.”

It’s a terrible thing, but it’s true. Cazador represents everything—Astarion’s entire world—and when he dies, he leaves behind a void that’s even more frightening. And let’s not forget that, in the real world, it takes very little to completely erase a person—and two hundred years in the hands of an abuser is an overwhelming amount of time, a detail that too often gets underestimated or completely forgotten.

The whole matter becomes even more disturbing and painful when Cazador suggests that without Tav/Durge, Astarion would have come crawling back to him with his tail between his legs. To his fucking tormentor. And sadly, it's a painful concept because it really happens in real life—when you have nothing and no one, when you have no means of your own and are completely dependent on another person, no matter how terrifying they are. Cazador is certain that Astarion will return to him, even if it means dying. And it's a concept with a devastating impact.

So Cazador was the domineering father figure, and vampire society functions under strict rules handed down by vampire lords. In this hostile context, without any room for self-expression or choice, Astarion developed a fragmented and damaged self-image. Constantly belittled by Cazador as an individual (small, weak, useless, incapable, all words he uses in the game), always pitted against his brothers and sisters, and degraded from a magistrate to a prostitute (this is important because it’s the only skill—or "talent," as he calls it himself—that Astarion believes gives him any value or power, forming the basis for his self-image). It’s easy to imagine just how high his self-esteem must be, right? Most importantly, he never developed the skills to navigate life as a free individual—at least not in a healthy way.

Good Lord, he thinks that in order to receive support, he has to sell himself to Tav/Durge and offer his sexual services—otherwise, he has no hope of survival! And that’s why I say he doesn’t possess all the skills of a well-adjusted adult. Other glaring examples of this—so glaring they hit you like a punch in the eye—are his inability to say no and to recognize his own limits. And shall we talk about the infamous question: What do you want? The first time, he deflects, and essentially gives the answer the player wants to hear. The second time, he states it plainly: he doesn't know. He doesn't know how to make decisions, he hasn’t done it in 200 years, and the very idea terrifies him to his core. These are all skills that a well-balanced person possesses—let’s not kid ourselves.

Like any mature and well-balanced adult, one knows how to recognize their feelings, define them, communicate them, and most importantly, not fear them. Astarion, on the other hand, is unable—after 200 years of pure shit—to understand what he feels for Tav/Durge, and he won’t be able to until the end of the Pale Elf’s quest. “I don’t know—but isn’t it nice, not to know? You’re not a target, nor a victim, not just one night it's better to forget. But then... whatever in the world could you be?”

So, even if reluctantly (and despite his fear), he ends up leaning on Tav/Durge. He needs a guiding figure to help him figure out what to do because making decisions and acting independently don’t come naturally to him. Especially outside of his talents, sex and survival. He needs to be rehabilitated, re-educated, and to achieve this, he requires a safe and healthy environment where he can experiment and grow, perhaps developing other faces of the self on which to base a new evaluation. Like, I'm not just a slave or a whore: but I'm also a companion, a friend, a lover, a hero and I'm able to listen, to help, to learn, to collaborate, etc.

And let’s not forget that when the fateful confrontation with Cazador is brought up, Astarion explicitly asks Tav/Durge for help. “I need to take the fight to him. And I need you to help me,” he says. How to help him—whether to ascend or not—is up to the player and how they choose to play. But the fact remains: Astarion needs support.

Meanwhile let’s take a look at some of the consequences of low self-esteem:

Difficulty opening up in social settings and communicating one's emotions and needs

Extreme self-criticism

Devaluing or ignoring one’s own qualities

Tendency to constantly apologize and feel guilty for things that are not actually one's responsibility

Tendency to appease others due to perceiving oneself as inferior to one’s peers

Use of negative words to describe oneself

Difficulty making decisions and maintaining personal goals over time

Negative and self-blaming internal dialogue

Belief that success is due to luck, with difficulty attributing accomplishments to oneself

Not believing compliments that are given to them

And now, let’s look at the most common causes for the development of low self-esteem:

Being raised by extremely critical and demanding parents

Being heavily devalued by parents or other authority figures

Being ignored or ridiculed during childhood

Being a victim of physical, sexual, or psychological abuse

Achieving poor academic results

Experiencing episodes of bullying or mistreatment in the workplace

Suffering a financial collapse or a significant breakup

Being subjected to a prolonged period of stress

Suffering from a chronic and persistent medical condition

Suffering from psychological disorders (e.g., anxiety or depression)

Does this remind you of something? Or maybe someone in particular? Does that person, by any chance, have red eyes and pointed teeth?

Naturally, these are just examples, and everything varies depending on the individual, but I believe these points still manage to convey the concept.

They especially give the idea of how much events—and especially the context in which we live—impact our psyche. For example, thanks to neuroscience and increasingly detailed brain imaging, we know that brain areas change according to the factors mentioned above; they train like muscles, so to speak, becoming larger and more reactive every time they are activated.

So, if someone is subjected to chronic stress, the brain areas responsible for managing it will become easily activated, bringing with them a whole series of consequences that affect performance, behavior, perception, thinking, and so on.

Likewise, the more the “right” areas of the brain are activated, the more the brain itself will develop in a healthy and balanced way, forming neural connections that support the tools (perception, thinking, etc) mentioned above.

Meanwhile, other areas—such as those related to stress responses—will remain small and more difficult to activate. (Obviously, brain areas don’t literally “grow” or “shrink” in size, but the connections between neurons (synapses) are strengthened or weakened depending on how much they’re used. This is a principle known as “neural plasticity”: what you use becomes reinforced, what you neglect becomes weaker.)

A curiosity: even our mood influences how we perceive people and the world around us—and consequently, our thoughts and impressions too! xD

This image is heartbreaking, because these brains belong to two three-year-old children—and the differences are significant.

The brain on the right is missing key areas that are present in the one on the left. These missing parts impact the abilities of the child with the smaller brain:

this child will likely be less intelligent as an adult compared to the one with the larger brain,

will be less capable of empathizing with others,

and will be at higher risk of becoming addicted to drugs and involved in violent crimes.

Additionally, the child with the smaller brain is more likely to remain unemployed and dependent on social services, and may develop mental health issues or other serious health problems.

The large difference in size and development between these two brains is not due to illness or injury, but rather to how the two children were treated by their mothers.

The child with the larger, more developed brain was loved by their mother, who was consistently present and attentive to their needs. The child with the smaller brain, on the other hand, was neglected and abused. It is precisely this difference in treatment that explains why one child's brain developed fully while the other’s did not.

Of course, our favorite vampire spawn isn’t a developing child—but the point is that certain environments and experiences have a profound impact and shape many aspects of our lives, making us more or less equipped to face challenges.

At this point, I’d like to focus a bit on the reasoning process in general. It’s easy to believe that when humans think, make decisions, and reflect on a problem or task, they do so in the most rational way possible. And that’s where we go wrong! First of all, the cerebral cortex — the part of the brain responsible for complex cognitive functions such as thinking, awareness, memory, attention, and language — is located in the upper region of the brain. Most stimuli, in order to reach the cortex, must pass through all the lower areas of the brain, which often trigger behavioral responses even before the stimulus reaches rational thought. For example, the activation of the sympathetic nervous system, which is responsible for danger responses. A silly example: how many times have we jumped out of our skin before realizing that the loud, scary noise was just a window slamming shut? First comes the fear response, then the evaluation of the stimulus follows.

As if that weren’t enough, the brain plays other little tricks on us — without us even being aware of it — because that sneaky thing does a whole lot on its own, especially when it comes to thinking and making decisions.

So... Astarion has a very limited perspective—mostly the one offered by Cazador. As we said earlier, the world is divided into those who have power and those who suffer it. Period. But we all know that in between there are infinite shades of gray, and that can’t be denied. In the same way, Astarion believes that Tav/Durge is the exception to the rule—the only kind person in the world, the one and only for him. But as much as it flatters our ego to hear that, we know very well that no one is that special. It’s always Astarion’s perspective that’s extremely limited. And in fact, here too, Tav/Durge has the opportunity to broaden his view, to point out that the world is full of kind people who would care for him if only he opened himself up and showed kindness in return. This narrow way of thinking and seeing things, this resistance to noticing alternatives, fits perfectly into the category of cognitive biases.

Let’s start with the premise that the human brain needs to be both effective and efficient. That means reaching a result in the shortest time and using the fewest resources. Therefore: when we think and make decisions, we don’t always do so rationally. We use heuristics—mental shortcuts—often following patterns we've used before. A silly example: if I have to cook a dish I’ve made a hundred times, I don’t sit down to rethink how and why I should cook it—I just switch off my brain and do it the way I’ve always done. Many heuristics are good and useful—others, not so much. And when they fall into the latter category, they become biases.

There are many types, but let’s look at one that we all, even us Astarion fans, share. xD Confirmation Bias!

Confirmation bias manifests when we tend to search for, interpret, or remember information that supports our pre-existing beliefs, ignoring anything that contradicts them or isn’t completely aligned.

Once a certain mental imprint forms, new experiences only deepen that groove, without any willingness to explore other interpretative modes—in fact, they tend to further crystallize internal beliefs.

We can say that the person is cherry-picking—in a complex set of data and information, they pick out only what resonates with a belief they already hold, which, in some way, is convenient for them.

The reason is easy to see: if I don’t challenge a belief—even if it’s irrational—I’ll save time, create less friction, and reduce internal and external resistance to a given situation.

Because confirmation bias shows up when a person selects only the evidence that supports their point of view, it easily becomes a self-sustaining system, keeping them locked in an interpretive and experiential microcosm that risks becoming increasingly stifling—a self-built prison.

Astarion is stuck on tracks he’s known inside and out for centuries, forcibly carved into his mind—and for him, it’s all too easy to filter everything through that lens. And this cuts him off from a myriad of possibilities, in a completely unconscious way. It’s like throwing a wrench in your own gears. So Tav/Durge represents an opening to a different value system, one that could replace or at least expand our vampire spawn’s worldview. Not without resistance, of course—those brain connections will get you!

So, to conclude, let’s go back to the beginning and to the statement in question.

"Astarion does not have a well-developed sense of self, and by default, he also lacks many of the skills that a well-adjusted adult should possess."

Yes, maybe out of context it might sound bad. I certainly don’t see Astarion as half a man, incapable of thinking or choosing for himself. But I do recognize that he has serious vulnerabilities that need to be treated with care and taken into account. Not when we're playing—when we play, we do what we like and have fun—but when we analyze him as a character. When Astarion, at the end of the Pale Elf quest, in the good ending, thanks us for saving him from himself, what he means, in my opinion, is exactly this: thank you for supporting me when my vulnerabilities, my fears, my blind spots, and my narrow perspective were getting the best of me. Because, let’s be honest, Astarion’s story is also about this—about rediscovery, about learning to live again, about changing, improving, growing, developing relationships, new abilities and skills. Not as a rogue or as a vampire, or within game mechanics—but as a person.

The point is: Astarion has come out of a horrific situation, one that has to have left marks, wounds, infected pus festering beneath the skin. A situation that never allowed him to understand what he liked, what he wanted, who he really was—simply because he couldn’t express himself, couldn’t think about his own needs, couldn’t say no. Couldn’t develop his sense of self in peace and safety.

A situation that left him unable to face the world and the people in it in a healthy way, unable to identify and express his own feelings, unable to say that damn "no" or to make choices. To decide, yes. And in fact, every time he’s asked what he wants to do, his answers are vague—or he says he doesn’t know, or admits that he’s afraid of those damn choices. He’s afraid of freedom, of consequences, and of everything else beyond the four things he knows—the four fucking things Cazador drilled into him, all around power and control.

And I’m really supposed to believe that the one choice he’s absolutely sure about is Ascension? Hell no. Just like he's not sure he doesn't want to ascend!

References

Rogers, C. R. (1961). On Becoming a Person: A Therapist's View of Psychotherapy. Houghton Mifflin. → A foundational text on the concept of the self, self-actualization, and congruence between real and ideal self.

Winnicott, D. W. (1964). The Child, the Family, and the Outside World. Penguin Books. → Explores the importance of a safe environment in the healthy development of the self.

Bowlby, J. (1969–1980). Attachment and Loss (Vols. 1–3). Basic Books. → Describes how early attachment figures shape our internal working models and sense of security.

Erikson, E. H. (1950). Childhood and Society. W. W. Norton & Company. → Introduces the theory of psychosocial development across the lifespan.

Herman, J. L. (1992). Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence—From Domestic Abuse to Political Terror. Basic Books. → Explains complex trauma, victim-perpetrator dynamics, and the long-term effects of abuse.

van der Kolk, B. A. (2014). The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. Viking. → Offers neuroscientific insight into how trauma reshapes the brain and affects emotional regulation.

Siegel, D. J. (2010). The Mindful Brain: Reflection and Attunement in the Cultivation of Well-Being. W. W. Norton & Company. → Discusses neuroplasticity, integration, and the development of a coherent sense of self.

Kahneman, D. (2011). Thinking, Fast and Slow. Farrar, Straus and Giroux. → A deep dive into heuristics, decision-making, and cognitive biases like confirmation bias.

Malaguti, E., & Morganti, P. (2014). Psychotraumatology: An Integrated Model for Trauma Treatment. (Translated from the Italian). FrancoAngeli. → Addresses the psychological and neurological consequences of prolonged trauma.

[kerink]

who is this margaritabill

margaritabille is the name of my au where bill escapes the theraprism and just starts living with the pines. like ford and stan just wake up one morning and bill's just. there. and he stays there.

bill's whole thing in this au is that he's lost and with no purpose and he's not coping well. the henchmaniac's didn't break him out of the theraprism, the axolotl tricked and imprisoned him, ford betrayed him. he lost his kingdom the nightmare realm, he lost his friends henchmaniacs, he lost the earth, he lost ford. the empire he's spent a trillion years building, the notoriety he's spent an eternity building, the fear the power the control he used to have is all gone. he's lost everything.

the shack was the home he and ford built together. even if ford burnt up all his tapestries and prisms, he can't wash away the energy built up from having it be bill's temple. but more than that, it was the first time since his mother held him and told him she would love him and protect him that bill had ever felt loved and ever felt happy. so he just does what he does when he wants something and he takes it.

so he starts living with the pines. he doesn't come for revenge or anything, he's just annoying and rude and kind of a pain in the ass. fucking nobody wants him there but they can't get rid of him so they all just learn to tolerate him, esp because he's not doing anything. ford says he can handle it and they let him.

the au is called margaritabille because bill just spends all his free time drinking and getting high and trying to get ford to sleep with him because he's still trying to party but it's not a party when you're by yourself. i described him initially as having a "parrothead early retiree alcoholic gay uncle vibe" and i'm sticking to that. (edit: literally didn't even explain the name like a dumbass. it's just margaritaville + bill lol)

it didn't start off as anything serious, i just wanted a place to drop all my post-theraprism nuisance bills. because i didn't start with any clear vision i don't exactly have any sort of clear story or goal or character arc or anything in mind. hell ☝️everything i just said is the first time i ever thought it for this au so...

it's all freestyle jazz. we're making it up as we go along. it's bill. he's with the pines. he's drunk. that's it.

[ryewwww]

Gotta say, My husband is a truck driver (retired now, since we got a little boy on the way—probably from all the truck sex), and you couldn’t have nailed what it’s like having sex in a Semi-truck/truck stop better. Would absolutely love to read more of your Trucker!Ghost! Kudos to you!

LOL congratulations!!!

Writing truck driver!Simon was a little hard because I literally had to search up the inside of a truck and just…picture how to do it.

And looking at photos inside the latest trucks—they’re actually sooo nice?!?!! Microwaves, fridge, TVs that hook up to a console. It’s like a mini hotel in the back of your truck!!!

After a long day of driving, you and Simon get some junk food from the truck stop, or maybe walk to the nearest fast food place. You hurry back, stuff your face with fries and once you’re finished, he’s stuffing you😩

For Simon, he lovessss when you tag along. Usually, he does these trips alone, in literal silence. Sometimes he’ll play like Metallica or smth but a lot of the time, it’ll just be him and the sound of his truck rumbling. And he’d never get bored because he was so used to this shit back in the military.

But now, with you in the picture, you’re talking his ear off. You’ll go on and on and on about whatever the fuck, and for a moment when you stop talking, he looks over and sees you chugging some water because your throat went dry LOL.

Eventually, you get tired of talking and Simon takes over. You love listening to his military stories on the road. He’s had some crazy ones and when you shoot him a look of concern, “I’m still breathing, aren’t I?”

When you see a different kind of semi truck or a different kind of trailer, or an oversized load, you ask sooo many questions.

“Si, why does the trailer look like that?”

“Oh my god, how did they get that big machine on there?”

“Are they allowed to do that?”

“What even is that thing?”

You’re full of questions but Simon is more than happy to answer. And thanks to him, you’ve learned so much. Now you know that trucks need lots of space to turn (left or right) so you’re more mindful about that. You’ve heard Simon swear one too many times when a person crosses the stop line because it makes it impossible for him to turn without hitting the other car.

Their relationship is not just sex, but genuinely so sweet. Simon is so so happy that he has a co-pilot to accompany him on these long trips🥹 All his life he’s been alone, and constantly working. Though, he could stop working, his retirement from the military would take care of him no doubt, but being all by himself made him depressed as fuck. So he talked to price about truck driving, I mean he had his class 1 so why not right? And he’s so grateful he did, otherwise he would have never met you.

[bronx-bomber87]

Happy Wednesday amazing readers and wonderful fandom :) Writers put themselves right back on course with this one. Returning to a balanced and all around amazing episode. End to End. It's been their thing this season and I'm happy to return to form with this one. The giving season continues to give with this episode.

I'm truly so satisfied with this season it's unreal. Once again can see why Eric said it's his favorite. Why they had the cast in such a social media lockdown about it. It's been worth every bit of waiting and hold out from the cast. We've been # 1 on Hulu every week it seems too. So I hope that trend continues this week with this ep. Makes me giddy to see us on top. Love to get some S8 news next month, but until then let us break down this gem of an ep shall we?

7x11 Speed

We start out with Lucy missing that sweet T.O. money already. Awww. I'll be honest I didn’t think about her losing her pay cause of stupid Seth. But it makes sense since she is now Rookie-less lol Heh I love her spending that extra money on self care. That’s the best. Also very Lucy to do so. It's fantastic. Proud of her for doing that. It's not an easy thing to do tbh.

I love her face as he hands her the file at the beginning of the scene btw LMAO Always say it's the little things I love between these two. *happy sigh* So much said in such a little glance between them. If you don't catch it you'll completely miss this cute exchange. Also it frees his hand up to look sexy af just hanging out on his duty belt. So thank you for your service Lucy ha

I will say her comment about her budget reminds me when she tried to get Aaron on one back in 5x14 LOL Tim telling her to just go to T.O. permanently then. I mean logically that makes sense. She would crush that test and then some. Tim knows it too. So that'll restore that extra money she is currently missing.

I knew she would be hesitant to do this because of losing focus on the Sergeant exam. Honestly I don't blame her. She was derailed a bit by T.O. in the first place. Although it did lead her to this Sergeant decision. Also training another rookie would take a lot of her time. Like to note even though Tim is giving her sass about training a new rookie, his body language shows that he is intently listening to her and I love it.

They're in their usual lock step as they make their way to roll call. Always floors me how they do that. Tim trying to find the words to describe Ridley and Lucy beats him to the punch. I mean he was that and more for her oh my lord. Was a hell of a first rookie for her. So can't say I fault her for being hesitant to dip her toe back in.

Hahahaha 'That is a horrifyingly high ratio.' LMAO It kinda is tbh. Not doing her any favors here love. Or convincing her to go back to being a T.O.... Lucy is firm in her decision to focus on Sergeant instead. That it'll just give her peace of mind instead of doing something else to detract.

Tim has to give her one last sassy comment before they part. 'Guess that means bye bye cleaning lady.' I love these two idiots so much I cannot stand it. Their banter is unrivaled. Ain't no one got what our ship does in just banter alone. Damnit I love these fools.

Look at Tim giving the same Sergeant speech Grey gave him so many moons ago in 4x02. to Lucy. Saying how she needs to learn to supervise from the sidelines. To delegate if she's wanting to be one. Look how far you’ve come my love. It's the little steps of growth that make my heart happy. Also loving the amount of scenes they’re having this early on in the ep. I knew was gonna be a good one.

Like a gift after last week's low amount and unbalanced ep. I LOVE him letting her practice being a Sergeant. To call the shots today. Like an advanced version of PCD for her. Lucy getting excited and pushing her luck like only she can do with him. Asking if that means she gets to drive? Tim sensing this and shutting it down. Naturally he wouldn’t let her drive haha Her face. So rare when he allows it. hehe These two dopes just low key flirting most of this episode.

Angela calling Tim 'Timothy' on the radio LOL Telling him not to be such an ass. I love this episode. Only two women he would allow to be that forward with him are in this convo. Lucy being wifey af rips the radio from his hands and he allows it. Cause well it's Lucy.

Of course she has a good idea. I mean selling stuff suckkkksss. Especially when it has value, but if it saves a job you love it’s worth it. Also loving all the hand touching with the back and forth of the radio. Don’t think I didn’t notice that you two...Bickering like an old married couple as they advise poor Miles.

Hahahaha look at the growth in our boy. Calling himself an ass when Lucy calls him out for his comment. Fantastic. Although I always enjoy his pot shots at Nolan LOL (Sorry John you have been much better this season) This new Tim delights me to no end every week in so many ways I cannot even tell you.

I'm a happy girl. As is Lucy. She has a smile for days for Tim this entire episode. Look at her when he says his line. Couldn't love that man more if you tried my friend. Seeing that change in him and loving it.

Oh my, Tim calling her Sergeant Chen. *fans self* That did things to me holy cow. Loved hearing him call her that. Also the confidence she is exuding when he does. Letting her lead this entire operation. Not questioning a single thing she does either. How far we have come fandom. How far we have come. Always love watching her be a friggin kick ass leader when given the chance.

Oh Lucy you are so much more of a BAMF than you ever give yourself credit for. I love how Tim doesn’t allow the pot shots at herself. Refuses to let her sit in that for even a moment. Reminds her of how she saved him back in 6x10. That SHE IS a bad ass. Making her smile with his sass. 'You're right....Totally lame.' God I love s7 Tim fandom. I can totally cross off 'Seeing a new side of Tim Bradford.' off my bingo card confidently.

Look at her smile. He did that. By building her up. Not letting a single second go by without him reminding her how amazing she is. Also Lucy you would've jumped even if there had been ten bombs. Why? Because it was Tim you were jumping to my girl. Just adore her smile after he makes his playful joke. She is melting everyone. Slowly but surely. Especially with moments like this. Keeping showing up for her babe. She is noticing and liking what she sees.

One of the best parts of the episode right here. Let us begin to dissect this glorious shop scene. Let me start with the 5x08 vibes I was getting from this scene. Some of their best moments are in a shop together. Most truthful and honest moments. Love when they have pod car eps. We always get such good scenes from it. Iconic ones.

Their body language alone is enough to make my shipper heart happy. The way they check in on each other when the other isn't looking. Gah I love these idiots in love. The heart eyes are plentiful in this scene. First off let me say I'm so glad she crushed being a Sergeant. Not at all like her detective run. No complaints from Tim. Came naturally to her. 'Ordering around people is one of your gifts.' The man isn't wrong....

'I've never heard you complain.' LOL Lucy Friggin Chen. Oh my lord The subtext in that line had my head spinning. ZERO doubt in my mind Tim ever had issues with her bossing him around. At work, In their relationship, In the bedroom... Where I am sure this flirty line stemmed from. That's just my opinion though....The flirtatious nature of that line and his devilishly happy smile right afterwards proving that IMO. ‘I don’t mind.’ Heh he sure doesn’t….This man is all giddy smiles most of this scene. Making me lightheaded with shippy joy. He is glowing in this first portion. The man couldn't be more in love with her if he tried. Or be happier to be in this light flirty place with her.

Lucy is getting flustered af with Tim's forward flirting. His smiles and not holding back at all. Letting her know he is A-OK with her flirting with him. Transparent Tim is sending her into a tailspin in the best way. It's making me insanely happy. He is just being candid with her and she is feeling it. Has no where to go but face the music in this moment. This woman just navigated a potential bus bombing as a Sergeant no sweat and it's the man to her left that is her undoing.

Once again, he is all smiles as she tries to steer her way out of this flirty situation she's put them in. His cute 'No idea.' I cannot. Also ‘Just co-workers’ my ass Lucy Chen. You will never ever be just that. Tim is enjoying this ramble so very much as she stumbles her way to her point. I think it is HUGE she is letting Tim know she’s not looking to date or has any interest in doing so. And of course he has zero himself. Man is a walking 'I love Lucy Chen' Billboard.

Has been all season and will continue to be as such. Now we all knew this. (If you didn't then this scene will help resolve that pretty quickly) Knew there was no way these two would go looking for anyone else. They are each other's endgame. But just like Tim going to therapy and working on himself. Getting the actual proof of hearing it makes it so satisfying. Just like it was in 7x07. Physically hearing them say it is literal ship crack right now. Hearing the confirmation from the both of them is EVERYTHING. We are headed in the right direction people.

Lucy continues on with her 'boundaries.' They need to have. Which they do need to have until this is truly sorted. Till they have that talk. Tim letting her know he respects them and will continue to meet her where she is at. Which he has done a masterful job of throughout the season. Never pushing her or trying to get her to talk more than she is ready to. Respecting what she wants to give him and thriving off of that. Continually showing up for her. Which has led up to this wonderful moment. Lucy reminding Tim that she still hasn’t fully forgiven him yet. As she should honestly.

That’s a deep wound he needs to remember he caused, and it remains ever-present. One he still needs to fix. That they're getting there but it's not quite healed yet. His soulful ‘I know.’ Is everything. Eric getting me right in the damn feels with it. It's very loaded with emotion and heavy. He is extremely aware he still has ground to make up with her. Penance still to be had. I love that he knows it and is telling her as such. They're being so open and vulnerable I wanna cry with this progress. Lucy’s reply is wonderful. Saying When not IF but WHEN she does. This is massive. We all knew she would get there. Because it's who she is to forgive of course.

But also she is seeing the change in Tim. How consistent it is. That it's not going away. There hasn't been an episode this season he hasn't shown that change to her. She still loves this man so much and he is slowly making his way back in. So much so that she is saying 'When' instead of If. The shift here is monumental. Her following it up with 'Maybe you can come help me study.' The subtext is unreal. It’s quite the olive branch. His smile is so cute and he is delirious with joy. He couldn't be happier with this reply. Keep putting in the work babe. This is the result. Heart eyes abound at the end oh my lord. Look at these two. Eric and Melissa convey SO much with just their heart eyes. I'm flying high.

If that final scene wasn't enough. That PROMO. OH. MY. LORD. Just coming by with flimsy excuses, just to have her way with him whenever she damn well pleases? Ok! Sign me up haha. He sure as hell is not gonna say no. Clearly. They messy and I don't hate it. Especially after that final scene. Also Lucy showing up looking like a bombshell. Holy hell. How could he say no? I mean she could show up wearing a paper bag and he would be panting after her. Let's be honest.

But legit her goal from that 5 seconds we got was to come and seduce him. I don't know what's going on or what is prompting this scene but I'm excited. Feral Caitlin is going to make an appearance if we're getting Half naked Tim in sweatpants at home. and he looks GOOOOD. Phew lord. I love this season everyone. Every week is a friggin joy. My happy place truly delivering in so many ways.

Thank you forever and always to my incredible readers. I would not be here without you. Thank you for every like, comment (seriously love chatting with you all. Come chat) and reblogs of these first impressions. You are the best. Shall see you all in 7x12 when we lose our minds over whatever is happening. Looks like it'll be a solid ep all around as well :)

~~~

Side notes-Non Chenford

Poor Miles LOL learning all his lessons the hard way ahaha Tim making his ass run for their coffee and their shop.

Always enjoy Nyla and Angela in the field. Gimme that all day in an ep I'll be happy.

Celina handled herself like a bad ass. AND got a Tim compliment in the process. He don't give those out lightly unless your name is Lucy. and even then took her some time to crack him for it. The continued growth astounds me in him.

Wes being adorable worrying about Angela. Love me some Wopez.

Oh and Monica is back least important info of the ep haha Was hoping we'd see Oscar before her but oh well. She's back I guess. Yay....

[staryeclipse]

I think the poll is wrong already, because rectangle is a specific shape similar to square. [Edit] In the general sense squares are rectangles, squares having more specific rules to what they are compared to rectangles. [End edit] The proper word to use would be a quadrilateral rather than rectangle, as both rectangles and squares are quadrilaterals but squares are not rectangles (and rectangles are not squares). The difference is that quadrilaterals is defined as a 4 sided polygon, similar to pentagon (5-sides/angles) and triangle (3-sided/angles).

A square is defined as a 4-sided shape with all right angles with the same length around, while a rectangle is defined as a 4 sided shape with all right angles with 2 sets of different lengths.

Fun fact: rectangles itself is a specific name! If the rectangle is shifted it's now called a parallelogram! Defined as 2 sides being parallel to each other with 2 sets of lengths and angles.

unrelated but why do we consider “squares” to be in line with the other shapes? is it because of the ease of the shorter word? Why do we teach small children about “circles” “triangles” and “squares” if squares are the rarity amist “rectangles”? why is it not more common for the shapes to be circles triangles and “rectangles” if that is the broad term for those shapes?

To this, I'd like to guess that easy to recognise shapes that are consistent, so we learn about those specific shapes. Circles are evenly rounded with no sides, triangles have equal lengths, and squares also have equal lengths. I would say it makes it easier to learn about other shapes once we have these as the base, as identifying what makes it a "circle", "triangle", or "square" helps to identify what makes it different from each other (number of sides/angles), identify its variants ("ellipses", "rectangles", "polygons"), and forms a good baseline for future learning (square to cube, triangle to pyramid, prisms).

I'm honestly frustrated that your teacher walked away instead of explaining it, so I want to help!!! My way of learning is to know in-depth of why things are like that, and it sounds like how you want to know things lol. Hopefully you don't mind me explaining so much, and if there's any other thing you want to know about please ask!!

Comprehension test

There is a right answer

[cultkinkcoven]

Had an interesting conversation with Lord Lucifer last night.

I won’t go too into the details but y’all already know I’ve been having some problems with my mom. Well I ended up cussing her out basically through text lol. I sent her a long letter about everything and made myself extremely clear. I thought it wouldn’t amount to anything, but to my surprise, it actually seems to have gotten through to her. She genuinely apologized for what feels like the first time, and even asked me if I’d consider going to counselling with her, which I agreed to at least try.

I asked Lucifer if he thought I was making the right decision, should I give her another chance? And I was expecting him to say something like “don’t allow yourself to be manipulated again,” but instead he sort of smiled and said he was proud of me.

“It takes a lot of strength to survive after exile, even more to forgive. You have mastered this period of self acceptance, resilience and survival, now I hope to see you master healing.”

and that was nice to hear, it gave me hope that this is something that truly can be overcome with time and effort.

But then, I got this pit in my stomach. Even if my mom and I could somehow find common ground, I am still a Luciferian, I will remain a Luciferian, and she will likely remain a radical christian. And as if he was reading my mind, Lucifer said, “when you have healed you will no longer need me.”

and that stung, because I never wanted to think that my relationship with him hinged on my distance to my mother. I didn’t respond.

“When we met, you had wounds that I sought to help you heal, now you are learning how. I never sought to isolate you, even after the fall, the goal is to rise again, eventually.”

“with you,” I responded, “I rise again, with you, with myself, still the person I was as I fell. Maybe I originally clung to you because I needed something, and you made the wounds less painful. But I also chose you, not to be my healer, to be my God. Your light has shown me a path to redemption, you have helped me heal, but that is not all you have done. You know I will continue to follow you, you know you will always be my Father, whether I am wounded or standing tall.”

and he smiled at that again. “Your mother may have found it within herself to try and find you, my boy. That doesn’t mean she’ll like what she sees at the end of it. Are you really willing to lose her again if things don’t work out, just to continue following me?”

lol. “Lord Lucifer, you taught me how to fall without hurting myself. I will spend my entire life rising and falling, I have spent my entire life leaving and returning to her. So long as I am Shi, and so long as you are Venus, we will forever be tethered to our movements. That’s what I promised you. That’s what you promised me.”

In could feel him confront me, like he was seriously looking down at me. “That’s very difficult, Shi, that’s a very heavy burden to carry. In swearing yourself to me you have guaranteed a life of strife, a constant argument that will never go away, is that what you want?”

“Are you not the constant argument that never goes away? and am I not the child that never knows when to stop talking?”

“Some would say”

“Then this is a strife I am familiar with, it’s an old friend of mine. I don’t fear conflict, what I fear is the erosion of my sense of self, my principles, your principles. Lucifer, I will become the enemy of the world if it means having this.”

and he shrunk down to my level, so we were eye to eye. “and what is this?” he asked.

“Us. you, me, the person I found within myself when I had nothing else. I’m okay with being hated, what I cannot be is misrepresented. I won’t turn into someone else for the sake of someone else, especially not when the Lord I have has always accepted me for who I really am. I just gained this freedom, Lucifer. It is the one thing I can never let go.”

and finally, he smiled again. “Freedom,” he echoed, “yes, that’s it. There are many things I love, education, discovery, temptation… but freedom has always been my truest love. You’ve earned freedom, now you have choice.”

“I choose of my volition to follow the light that loves freedom. Even when I no longer need you, I will always choose you, and I will always choose myself. In doing so I have also chosen love, I have chosen to be strong and give to others what has not been given to me. I will not be cruel or turn away from those who have abandoned me, I am stronger than them. You gave me this strength.”

and he nods. “You can’t get rid of me, bitch,” I added, and he blew up into laughter. “I’m serious. You signed that contract just like I did, you’re stuck with me, Lucifer, forever. You don’t get to be free of me just because my mom is back.”

and another hearty laugh. “It’s a done deal then,” he finally says, “you’re mine forever. I will love you no matter where you are, no matter what you need.”

“I fucking better be.”

As difficult as this whole thing has been, I’m actually… happy? now. I feel like I have actually achieved some peace, not by running away and saying fuck you forever to everyone, but by being real as fuck and doubling down. Had I not sent that message, had I not been the harbinger of conflict yet again, we would still be stuck in limbo. And as satisfying as it would have been to my pride to say “you fucked up, its too late”, I know that in the long run, building and healing will be better for my soul. My internal conflict has evaporated, I know exactly who I am and exactly what I want and need. I have no guilt nor shame, and I have the tools to continue to ascend higher, even if I fall.

I am content.

[mytalemyworld]

Alya: If he has a legal right over the land, you did good by giving it to him. Cihan: Tell this to my mother. Alya: I'm gonna ask you something. Just like Ms. Sadakat said, will you get weaker because you gave Şahin land? Cihan: If he gets stronger, then, yes. Alya: But you still gave it. Is it because he saved Kaya's life?

Is this a foreshadowing? I mean, anything is possible in this show, so I am not making a guess or anything but I just love seeing how well she knows him. He doesn't say what's going on his mind, what he is planning but she can see through him. Mind you, she doesn't even have a knowledge of the conversation Nare and Cihan made in the morning but she still made a right guess: It's because Şahin saved Kaya's life.

Also thanks to him, Cihan could also save Alya from Sedat's grip. So he might feel indebted for that as well. She's so dear to this broody looking man.

They are just so adorable.

Alya: Weren't you watching a movie with Pakize? C. Deniz: Pakize fell asleep. Cihan: Did she? I can talk to her? Alya: No need. She's been taking care of Deniz since morning, it isn't an easy job. Poor girl must be tired.

I loved this tiny little moment. Cihan is such a boss, he just wants everyone to do their jobs properly.

But Alya is like, "noooo, don't. They are human too, she must be tired and she isn't even a nanny, I mean, this isn't her main job. We're increasing her workload unfairly."

He has a very long way to go to learn such things. Lol. Alya is good at managing house matters actually.

C. Deniz: Let's watch it together. Alya: Deniz, your uncle must be tired, dear. Come, let two of us watch it together on the bed. C. Deniz: No. Let's watch it here. Cihan: Okay, whatever he wants to watch, just watch it here. I have something to take care of, after I handle it, I'll come back and join you, okay?

He is tired actually, Alya sees it too but he just wants to do whatever Deniz wants from him.

Such a father material.

When he imitates how Deniz looks. Lol.

I know she is an obstetrician, she must know all birth control methods but this very telling look says that she wants to make babies with him. I don't know, I am just saying what I feel.

Jokings aside, yes, she sees too that he is such a father material.

Whatever happened between them is forgotten when Deniz is with them. He changes the atmosphere, the mood. They can smile at each other, they act like a family. Actually, I think we must get rid of that "act like". Because they became a family already.

This screenshot is too beautiful to look at.

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

I have been looking forward to Top Form all week! I neeeed it. Gimme gimme.

I love how they use the series Akin & Jin film together as a chance to use dialogue that is true to life, but that they would never say to each other in reality.

I feel for Akin. On one hand, he's got these feelings about Jin that he is clearly having trouble reckoning with. On the other, the entertainment industry is truly cutthroat, Akin is getting older, and Jin is the next bright young thing. None of that is easy stuff to process! And Akin seems to resist processing as his defense mechanism.

Also Boom is looking very pretty today.

The shipping going so strong already is probably the most realistic thing about this show.

Aw, Akin is sweet. Being cute with the clerk, smiling at the camera. He's a nice dude to his fans.

Oh, this framing is really interesting...Akin already feeling like Jin is such a massive presence. Dude is clearly already having such big feels.

Fascinating to compare to the framing in episode 1, and how quickly it's reversed.

Hee hee, the wings again. I know there were people confused by it, but seriously, just go with it. It's fun.

Akin is me when it comes to chocolate muffins. But also, editors, muffin flashback was not necessary, it happened two minutes ago.

Not the cat noise! I can't stop laughing. This show is such a gift.

Hey, it's Khom! Love seeing him pop up in things.

Baby has been counting down!

I bet you anything he knows to the minute as well.

Aw, Jin letting Akin know he's been working on his craft, he wants to make him proud. And to be seen as his equal, of course.

Haha, Akin trying to show he's all about the work with his memorization of how many scenes they have together. (But we all know this is about more than work to you Akin).

Oh this is brilliant. Akin trying to show off, and Jin proving he's a match.

HOW IS EVERYONE JUST WATCHING NORMALLY WITH THIS MUCH HOMOEROTIC TENSION IN THE ROOM?!?!

Well, this is by far the prettiest monologuing to a muffin scene I've witnessed.

Poor Akin, this is not going to help his difficult feelings.

Not my mind immediately going to Jin asking this question in bed...

Why yes I do have a praise kink, how can you tell, lolol

Ok, this may seem like a little thing, but Akin letting down his perfect facade around Jin to grab the bottle is a rather adorable indicator that he already feels like he can be different with him.

Oooh, Boom in glasses = hot.

Wow, the parallels of this script - Jin's character studying the dark arts as a metaphor for joining with the unethical company. I am loving this so much.

Holy shit, just when I think I can't love him more.

How much fun do we think Boom had learning to serve cunt with a fan?

Oh baby, don't read the comments.

Not the baby deer!!! Does it literally say "this is me" on it??

Literally all he cares about is Akin, sweet boy.

Also, Smart in glasses = hot.

Uh, calm down crowd. But also Jin is so damn huggable in that sweater.

Oh don't pretend to be annoyed Akin, we all saw that little smile.

Haha, their interaction in the van is so delightful.

This show has some incredible filming locations.

And I love the detail of the aspect ratio changing as they enter their series within a series.

The black and white coloring, the framing of the characters with Jin starting below and then moving to be at the same level multiple times, the interplay between them... I am adoring the details.

Not to mention the fucking killer chemistry, goddamn.

Lol, Jin nodding along to the director is adorable.

Whoa - that escalated quickly!

Nooooo, don't stop there! Waaaaaah.

Oh god is it next week yet?

[melancholyguy]

I was never perfect like you thought I was :(

But please, if everything you said to me today you believe in the deepest part of your heart..

Do not become me.. or like me..

Stay the beautiful person you were.. stay the person who kept me on the right track with everything I was struggling with daily, I use to love when you asked if I had taken my medications and cared so deeply for me. Please don’t lose that in yourself you are the most sweetest & kindest human being I have ever met. You tried and you tried and you tried, the more clearer my mind is and the further back I read I see just how bad you missed me and how much it tore you apart.. so yes I AM to blame for all of this. I should have been better.. I should have been more understanding of your life situation and so much more patient.. you were and are worth the wait I was just to stupidly blind and selfish then.. I was more concerned about my own heart being crushed again and in the process of protecting myself, I crushed yours into pieces ..

You don’t need to answer any more questions from me I now know I’m the one who has turned you this cold and heartless. I’m so fucking sorry words can never even begin to explain how sorry !!!!! But I have to say it anyway even though my sorrys mean nothing to you now:(

I’m sitting here writing this thinking to myself if I could just build a Time Machine and go back in time I would change everything and maybe just maybe we would still be deeply in love..

But after today’s message from you I don’t know If I would if I could.. I had my chance with an absolute pure angel who gave me her all and all of her heart. And I messed it up.. I don’t trust myself one bit not to mess anything up ever again.. so I have no choice but to do you the nicest thing I have done in awhile now.. and just go forever without another word ..

I wish you the best in every single thing that you do, I just know you are going to be successful, you have the drive and the want to be and you will manifest that into reality.

I always admired your drive and focus, your ability to multi task life, job, and gaming while being so relyd upon in all of those areas, then when I came along you even managed to make time for me so much, we would talk literally the whole day about anything and everything, solve every issue together it was the best time of my life and the most personal growth I’ve ever gone through in what was relatively a short span of time. There are more things I love about you then there are stars in the sky so I won’t carry on and carry on about every little thing here.

But just know you were the closest thing any person in this world could ever come to being perfect. And all though you have nothing but disgust, anger, and resentment towards me for the time we spent together now.. for me I will cherish it forever, you will always be my first love at first sight you will be my first true love and my last love. (Not just an obsession like you said) when you said that it felt to me like you were saying you never loved me and it was all in my head the whole time. And if that’s really true then I’m far more crazy then I ever thought lol anyway, here I go dribbling on again .. back to the point!

I’m forever grateful for having you in my life while I did, you taught me a lot of things and opened my mind up to so much more, you helped me become more positive (all though right now I’m in a dark dark place in my head) you showed me what no other person in my life ever has, unconditional love and for that I will always be grateful always cherish it and hopefully I learn from all this.

My feelings for you will never ever change I love you for you through and through. And if you ever find it in your heart I broke so badly to forgive me.. I will be here, I will always be here

If you didn’t delete my number or every possible way of contacting me like I kinda think you have now, then you will always be able to find me and I will always welcome you back 2infinity&beyond my no longer mine.

Be good.. and get that drift car ..

I love you..

The moment you understand and can answer that question as to why they hurt you, you become them.

[goatgoesmbe]

Saw your recent posts about your hijab and androgyny. I'm not sure what culture you come from or how that culture works. But as far as I've heard cultures that make AFABs wear hijabs are usually very closed off the gender nonconformity. Again, I know nothing about your origin or where you come from. Do you mind explaining a little? I'd really like to learn!

tw: rant

yupp, u right actually im very deep in the closet irl (only two ppl know abt me being queer)

and tbh, abt the hijab its just I'm used to wearing it since I was 8 so I just cant imagine not wearing it now, I just feel naked without it

and ofc, people are very closed off to gender nonconformity around me, putting everyone in boxes of male and female, despite the book saying genders is nonbinary (this would be a whole religious discussion tbh, with how jinns/angel/etc are very fluid/agender)

im from Indonesia where its very very conservative here, so- yeah. you're not even allowed to be atheist by law, you have to choose one religion for your id

even thoo- there are native beliefs not seeing gender as binary like Bugis (I'm not well educated about the tribe so I cant explain more)

anyway- about gender, yes. I've always known I don't fall into any of the two ever since I was very little. like, I remember when I was in 1st grade of elementary, we were told to fill this form, and I thought long to myself whether should i check on the F or M box, since neither feels right

I grew up not feminine in the first place, my mom got frustrated one time and got me into dancing class. But then the instructor gave me a male role as my first performance (my mom was so mad lolol)

My dad was more supportive in a way he let me choose what toys I wanna buy, what clothes I wanna wear, compared to my mom. Like at school, I used to not want to wear skirt, I just don't like the label it put on me so I wore pants underneath

There's also a thing about what sex I was born with, my mom liked to tell me multiple times that the radiology result of me in her belly was male (probably due to the tech at that time not as advanced, but idk for sure) so they prepared male names, male clothes, etc etc, only for me to be.. not exactly a male. And then there was this topic she mentioned, about me going into surgery to 'fix' the sex at only a few months old, but idk much abt it, and tbh its tmi so I'm not gonna say it here lol

By appearance also, i never rly care tbh, I just wear what I feel like wearing, and atm I don't care abt what my outfit labels me as. i don't think ppl could determine anyone's gender based on whether they wear dresses or pants anyway, including headscarves

Buttt.. rly, by outfit or what anyone was born with, it doesn't make anyone less valid to not want to be perceived as anything. And as I said, Im closeted, so I can take being misgendered all the time irl, but I seek comfort In a safe place online where I can be true to myself, and id like to not be misgendered here if it is possible thanks

[dkettchen]

she would've told them unlike her canon! version who decided not to be an ally smh

[atalienart]

✧*:･ﾟArt summary 2024

2014-2017 | 2018 | 2019 | 2020 | 2021

[chevroletdean]

Good grief, what is this? This has to be ragebait, and if it is, I'm falling for it, lol. I'm sorry you had to wake up to this, Alex. Anon, you're lucky Alex is such a kind soul, her response is nicer than anything I would've come up with.

Imagine sharing something for free that you're proud of, only to have some stranger be like "Actually, there's something wrong with this. 🤓" and then on top of it, they expect you to... what? Be thankful for their uncalled for, oh so helpful insight?

Please, and I'm saying this to you, Alex, and any other writers, don't let anyone kill your vibe. To write (or generally to be creative within fandom spaces as the same applies to, say, fanart or fanedits) always means making yourself a little vulnerable. People forget that publishing something someone poured their heart into can be quite personal. Wanting others to respect that is not asking too much.

So yes, if someone complains (not critiques constructively, complains) in the comments, Alex definitely has a right to stand her ground. Or even to "ignore" said complaint, because she doesn't owe you an explanation. What do you expect, Anon? What is she supposed to learn from that comment? Should she delete and rewrite everything from scratch, crawl on all fours and ask for forgiveness?

It's a shame some people do not recognize the sheer amount of thought that goes into writing. Even if you didn't enjoy the story, or parts of it, nobody can deny the fact that time and effort went into writing 20k+ (!!!) words. Over. 20,000. Words. With 1.5 spacing, Times New Roman 12 pt. that would be over 60 juicy A4 pages. You think someone just poops that out mindlessly? Dismissing that is just straight up rude.

It's one thing to receive (useful) feedback that might help writers improve (though please know that not everyone is looking for feedback in the first place, and I don't understand what triggers someone to still voice their opinion when nobody asked for it). It's an entirely different thing to have people be straight up mean about it.

Nobody is forcing anyone to like a fanfic, or hell, even someone's writing in general. I have authors whose writing style I enjoy more than others, but I don't go out of my way and ruin their day. Sometimes a story isn't my cup of tea, but I can still acknowledge the effort behind it.

This isn't Goodreads, Anon. We're not on Amazon either. It's Tumblr. In my 13+ years on this website, I have never seen this as a page where people consume (sponsored, edited, and officially published with the intention to sell, mind you -- all resources your average fanfic writer on Tumblr simply doesn't have) content to then give it an X/5-stars rating.

This is, and always has been, the reblog site. Meant for you to find stuff you think is cool. Now, you obviously can't think everything is cool, so those other things which don't spark joy for you, you simply scroll past. Maybe block, if you absolutely hate it, and go about your day. Hope that helped, Anon!

I saw your reply to a comment and I don't understand why you get so defensive when someone criticizes your writing. Isn't that allowed? That's the problem with Tumblr these days. There are only small groups and anyone who doesn't belong isn't tolerated. I enjoyed reading your stories, but I also found several things that made no sense. It's a shame that criticism is simply ignored.

Ah, what a lovely message to wake up to! 😂

Hello, “anon.” I think I know who you are, but for the sake of this I’ll refer to you as anon.

I believe you’re referencing a comment someone made on If I Stay - Part 2, where they basically said, "This makes no sense and I couldn't bother to finish reading it anyway." What you're saying is it made no sense to you. And as you can see, I don't ignore criticism, I respectfully responded.

You're asking me to tolerate rudeness, anon. I've been writing for about nineteen years, since I was 10 years old. I've gone through a lot of growth as a writer since then, and I still am. I'm not a perfect writer, nor am I expecting everyone to love everything I write.

However, there is a world of difference between "constructive criticism" and "rude criticism."

Constructive criticism takes many forms, but it can look like this:

"There were things I liked about this story [name an example], but I'm sorry, this aspect I just didn't understand/didn't vibe with [insert example]."

^That kind of thing I can respect. It's about the delivery. I've had meaningful discourse with people who didn't vibe with things about my work. We talked it out like adults. However, the comment, "This makes no sense and I couldn't bother to finish reading it anyway" is not constructive. It's a rude, disrespectful complaint.

I spend several days, even weeks or months outlining, researching, drafting, and editing my stories before I post them here and on Ao3 (for free), as many writers do. Because we care about our work and a lot of us take writing seriously.

It takes someone just a few minutes to read something, and just a few seconds to write a negative comment like that.

The only way I know you've "enjoyed my stories" is if you comment and/or reblog a story. That particular person has only ever posted negative comments on my work; therefore, I can only assume they don't like my stories.

"Don't like, don't read" is a thing in fandom for a reason. Words have power, and at their worst, they can make or break a writer's will to write and share more stories (again, for free). It's a very personal thing to write and be creative, and it can be doubly scary for new writers to share them publicly.

So you can ignore this and continue leaving comments like that for writers if you want to, but I doubt it will earn you many friends in the fandom. At least, not from the writers you claim to like.

[odetoscavengers]

ooh… how about an anthro comb jelly? or maybe a parasitoid wasp

A couple people suggested some marine inverts so here they are :^)

Not even sure these count as anthros at this point LOL but thats ok