#but i think i just needed to elf everything out even though its kind of scary

[alaskan-wallflower]

can i just…unload? i think ive kinda just been pushing down a lot and i need to jsut let everything out because its been eating at me for a while and i just need to tell somebody

all triggers are in the tags

i think everything has just been a bit too much lately, i don’t even know where to begin with this. i think it’s because of a fight i had, maybe it’s cause of my period, maybe it’s cause of that ask, but i just…i need to unwind. i feel like shit, and it’s kind of to be expected i guess? i feel bad making vents. i feel bad for complaining. but i just need to tell somebody and i don’t know what to do anymore

i used to live with my grandma and grandpa, and my grandpa had dementia. he was a complete asshole to me, my brothers, my dad, everybody. he was just horrible all around and would scream at me and my brothers to the point of tears, stuff like that. we understood it was because of his alzheimer’s but even before it hit and he was horrible. for about four years when he actually moved up with us and when i was about 9 until he died when i was 13, he used to just…do stuff to me. i hate talking about this a lot in all honesty because it makes me feel stupid—my own family doesn’t believe me. he kinda used to jsut grope my chest and slap my ass, he used to make weird comments, he used to just do all this weird stuff to me and it seriously fucked me up. still kinda does. throughout middle school it was hard. i used to sexualize myself so much, and it made me miserable but it was like a drug to me that i just kept taking because part of me liked taht attention, part of me still likes taht attention because the only time i really feel good about myself is when i look like a skank, and i hate that. im still working through it, and he never went further than touching me or anything, it never went that far, but it was just like…routinely. and it hurt. a lot. it still hurts knowing i’m not believed and that to my family im either misremembering or carting it on for attention. and that hurts more than words can express.

it’s really hard to talk about what happened next because like…i’m still processing it and i’m really scared to say anything publicly hence why i haven’t, but it’s been eating me up for years, but a few years back i think i was groomed. not sexually, i don’t think. but when i was 14 i met someone who was a few years older than me, and i thought they were the coolest person ever. i never really noticed anything until we had a falling out and i cut contact, but like…we used to do kinda spicy roleplays, or id write them spicy fics (it was self shipping with another character not with each other) but i kind of just realized like…maybe it wasn’t normal for a fourteen year old kid to write or draw about people making out and taking off clothes, and i dunno. it kind of hurt more because i had/have an interest in heartbeats and such, but over time it felt more like it was because it was intimate, and not a comfort thing because of the way it was written off between us, and im trying to be really vague even though it’s difficult because im just nervous about them finding out i told people since i promised i wouldn’t…i used to send them voice recordings and stuff of me singing for them or comforting them and they did the same back to me. i’m not innocent in any of this either. i was horrible to them. i think having that connection made me codependent on them, because i was desperate for any sense of love from somebody, and i took that love and i made it all i could feel because i was a stupid, scared fourteen year old kid who didn’t have the best relationship with her family at the time. this situation is complicated because i don’t want to seem like a victim because im not, but things with this situation specifically still confuse me.

and then added onto that is the issues with school and my mental state. it feels like my life has to revolve around numbers, with my grades needing to stay in a certain domain, and then trying to control my weight—i’ve dealt with weight and eating issues since i was in middle school and it just will not go away. there’s no way for it to go away either because ill be doing fine but then the littlest thing will set me off because i use starvation as a form of self harm, and in trying to stop doing that, but i just can’t. it’s hard to stop doing. friends are another issue. i feel like absolute shit around them. i feel like im never going to be good enough for them because no matter what i do or what i tell myself, it’s never ever going to be good enough. i carve out the parts they don’t like and see the parts on they decide they want on me. if they think im too loud ill be quiet and when they think im too much i can settle down. i don’t know what “me” is when im around them because i spend so much of my time trying to take what they want and what they like and pray that they like the 200 different versions of me i’ve created for them. i realized they don’t like me. they don’t like who i am, and that hurts beyond expression. even on here i try to be what ig think people want and that’s just so hard to do after a while because ill overthink everything about what im doing, and i advertise myself to become what people like and i feel like i can’t express myself or ill be too weird, people won’t like me, my friends will leave. i live with that constantly and it scares the shit out of me because i know when i lose them i’ll have nothing.

i dunno. this is one of those times where i just feel like everything is way too much and i don’t know what to do anymore. i feel so low, and i feel like i can’t escape because it’s going to slowly kill me, and sometimes i jsut want to do it for them. i wonder if their friends would genuinely be happier if i left them. i dunno.

this is really heavy, and this is a lot of hardcore venting, and i’m sorry—i kind of just needed to get all of this out there bad i didn’t know who else to tell. i’m so fucking tired of it all and i feel ashamed of carrying around the things i have because i can’t tell anyone but like…i don’t know. i just don’t know anymore.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Recent game related things .. hrmm...

[holytrickster]

idk i think it's so funny I went down a survival horror game rabbit hole when a) I'm too freaking anxious for horror games I will make myself cry, b) it was all PS2 stuff which is extra funny bc I've never even played on someone else's playstation let alone had one, i was always a wii kid lol. but now my brain is like ah yes. time to consume everything I can about games I can't even play and that are stupid expensive/hard to get now

[misseviehyde]

SHADOWS

My ex-boyfriend James is sooooo fucking weak and pathetic. I hate and despise him with every part of my soul. He is everything that is wrong with men these days. Indecisive, overly sensitive, small and pathetic. What a fucking loser.

His twin brother Jason by comparison is a God. He is the man I now desire. Once I despised and hated Jason, but now he is everything I seek in a man. Tall, strong, rich, dominant... he makes me so fucking wet. My new boyfriend is a total Alpha. The longer I stay around him the more feminine I feel. I love what he does to me.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me explain how this all started...

Once I was the nerdiest girl at school. It seems insane to say it now, given how popular I am, but there was a time when I couldn't name six fashion designers or contour my makeup or suck off three boys at once in the cheerleaders locker room. I was a fucking loser.

Terrible skin, flat chested, nerdy glasses and goofy teeth. No. I was once plain little Melanie. I even had ginger hair. No wonder everyone bullied me. Popular rich bitch Madison didn't even exist. I was a fucking nobody.

My life consisted of science fairs, anime and role-playing games. Not the fun role playing games where you dress as a sexy school girl and get railed by a hot guy... no... the loser ones where you pretend to be an elf.

To my shame I was even into LARPIng. Live action role play. Each Friday night, me, James, Jason and our other buddies would go into the local woods to play.

We would run around the woods pretending to be on adventures. Fuckkkk it was so pathetic, I feel a major ick just thinking about it.

Jason wasn't the God he would later become at this point. He and James basically looked the same. I don't know why I had chosen James as my boyfriend. I guess he was slightly more confident and had asked me out first. He and Jason basically looked and acted the same though. Many people couldn't even tell them apart. Even me sometimes.

Then Jason found the shadow and everything changed.

As part of our role playing experience we sometimes brought props along and Jason had found this creepy looking glass bottle in a charity shop. It was opaque and stoppered with a wax cork. Perhaps it held a liquid of some kind? Sometimes it looked like there was something dark swirling inside, but it was kind of hard to tell.

We needed a prop to represent an evil demon that was trapped in a bottle so Jason had brought out the bottle.

As usual the group had split up. It was dark now and I was on my own. I had on my favourite druid costume (ughhh so fucking fugly) and I was creeping through the woods under the moonlight.

Suddenly I saw Jason through a gap in the trees. He was on his own too and carrying the bottle. I headed towards him, he hadn't seen me... in fact he wasn't really paying proper attention to his surroundings, which is maybe why he suddenly tripped over a tree root.

The bottle span from his hands and smashed against the ground with a musical tinkle.

I had a perfect view of everything. Jason was lit by the moonlight, his scrawny body shivering and his eyes wide with fear as a rolling mass of black shadows erupted from the smashed bottle and flowed towards him.

I wanted to scream but my voice had left me and I could only put my hands to my mouth like a parody of some dumb anime girl as the shadows flowed into Jason. Black smoke forced its way down his throat, into his nose. It wrapped and enveloped him, melting and merging into his body.

Then it was gone.

But the scene was not over.

Jason let out a cry, or maybe it was a moan. I watched in horrified fascination (and now I'm happy to admit a little bit or arousal) as I watched him change. Jason... my God... was being born.

Muscles rippled and swelled under his skin, causing his shirt to rip and his fantasy style breeches to bulge. He tore his top off to reveal a rippling six back and toned muscles as his skin flowed like wax and he changed and transformed. He grew taller and bigger, more handsome too as his face became more masculine and his hair cut more stylish.

Grunting and grinning Jason ripped off his pathetic role playing costume and stretched confidently. He was entirely naked now and I gasped in arousal as I saw his magnificent ass and his perfect cock. As I watched it was growing. Ten inches of thick white meat now hung between his huge thighs and I almost salivated as I beheld his perfect manly body.

Jason confidently stretched his body, clearly enjoying how it felt. He grinned perfect white teeth and his eyes, once mild and nerdy shone with ambition and dark desire. He clicked his fingers and there was a wisp of smoke as a stylish black shirt and designer jeans encased his new perfect body. He now looked like a male super model and he strode off through the woods chuckling, leaving me breathing heavily and wondering if I was losing my mind.

***

I ran through the woods. Back then I was ungainly and lacking athletic ability. Whereas now I hit the gym daily and can bend into nearly any position (especially when fucking) I was a fucking loser, so I made quite the noise as I crashed through the trees.

James and the others soon found me and I garbled what I'd seen, but they all thought I was still role playing.

"Babe, it's a cool story, but one detail that doesn't work. My stuck up bullying brother doesn't play with us. He thinks we're losers."

I gawped at James. I thought he was joking at first, but as we spoke it became clear he was serious. The shadow had changed Jason, but it also seemed to have changed everyone's memories of him.

I had no idea why I hadn't been affected. perhaps because I had witnessed his transformation directly or something.

James and the others couldn't understand why I was so upset and worried. The shadow had looked evil and I was worried my boyfriends brother was now under the control of something wicked. I decided I'd have to confront Jason directly and see if I could aid him, so I told the others I felt sick and left to go immediately to James and Jason's house.

James started after me, but I quickly lost him in the woods. I didn't want him to see what had happened to his brother. I was sure I could find a way to save Jason.

Haha, what a fucking idealistic moron I used to be.

***

I arrived at Jason's to find the house had changed. There was now a pickup parked at the front and the house was larger and clearly more expensive. Entering the house I found it was better decorated and I nearly had a heart attack as I entered the kitchen to find Jame's Mom and Dad.

Michael, the Dad was now a handsome looking business man wearing an expensive suit. Linda, James Mom had transformed from a homesy kind Mom into a haughty and beautiful MILF. She looked stunning!

Neither of them paid me much attention, they clearly recognised me as James girlfriend. The sneer and look of disgust Linda gave me left me cold. I can't blame her. Linda is now a major icon to me and we are the BEST of friends. She loves me like a daughter and I've learned so much about manipulating and using men from her. But back then I was a dork dating her loser son James.

But that was soon about to change.

I found Jason in a room I'd never seen before. A personal gym.

He was stripped to the waist, his muscles rippling as he pumped iron. He turned and grinned at me as I entered.

"Well well well. My brothers dork girlfriend? What the hell do you want Melanie?"

"I saw everything Jason. I saw that weird shadow enter you. We have to get it out of you. What have you done to your Mom and Dad? This isn't right."

Jason grinned. "Ahhhh. So you saw it? So you remember the old me? Haha you have no idea Melanie. No idea how good this feels. The shadow within me hungers for power and pleasure. It serves no other purpose but to give me what I want. It can change things, people too. Anything that falls under my shadow can be twisted to serve my whim. I am a fucking God now."

I watched nervously as black shadows seemed to spread around Jason as he spoke. The air rippled with potential and a cold numb feeling spread through my body and my soul. Jason grinned as the light seemed to be sucked out of the room and I was drowning in darkness.

"You could be so much more Melanie. You're such a fucking dork, just like my pathetic brother. I always wanted you to be MY girlfriend and now I have this power you can join me. I won't force you, I want you to join me willingly. A taste of this power and I think you'll want more."

I gasped falling to my knees as the shadows surrounded me. All the warmth and kindness and love inside me was suddenly numbed. It was like the shadow was feeding on my positive emotions... perhaps it was.

The dark shadows enveloped and wrapped my nerdy body. Tempting whispers invaded my mind and I felt Jason's presence beating down on me and willing me to give in. The shadow wanted to change and corrupt me, but it would only do so if I wanted it to. Jason hadn't lied.

I don't know if you've ever been offered something so fucking delicious and perfect that even if it came at the cost of your soul you'd jump at the chance... but when that moment finally arrives, it's pretty hard not to succumb.

I'd seen what the shadow had done to Jason. It had turned him into the perfect example of masculine perfection. It could probably do the same for me, but make me the ultimate girl. All I had to do was let it in and surrender to the darkness.

I'd seen girls in magazines, on TV, on teenage drama programs. I'd always wondered how it would feel to be a Queen Bee... a head cheerleader type. What must it be like to be so pretty you can get whatever you want? How would it feel to be a bitch?

"Yes... change me," I groaned. "But only a little... I just want to be a little prettier."

I gasped as my body suddenly ached and I felt the shadows begin to change me. I ripped my dorky glasses off and felt my brace snap as I spat out the metal to leave perfect white teeth. My red hair turned a sexy black and my pale spotty skin tanned as my body toned.

It felt so fucking good.

"Don't you want more Melanie? Don't you want to become a real fucking bitch? If it feels this good to go a little of the way, why not let the shadows take you all the way?"

Jason had a point. The more I transformed the more I wanted to transform. As I felt myself become more popular and beautiful, the further I found I wanted to go.

"Yessss mmmmore," I gasped feeling the shadows pour down my throat and into my body. I could feel Jason in my mind now, his fingers manipulating my pleasure receptors and his thoughts becoming my own.

"That's right Melanie. You don't want to be a dweeb anymore. You want to go all the way. You want to be a fucking bitch. Say it."

I shuddered as delicious throbs of pleasure pulsed through my body. "I... mmmmmh, ohhh yes, I want to be a bitch."

"That's right Melanie. Let's picture a girl. Let's call her Madison. She's everything you want to be isn't she? Thin, pretty, bratty and spoiled. She's the kind of girl that has a new outfit every day, that all the other girls bow down to. I want you imagine how hot she looks. Nice tits, a toned body, ultra-feminine body language. So different to the dork you are. Are you picturing her?"

I was picturing her. I was thinking of every mean bad girl and bitch I had ever know in real life or in the movies. I was picturing Madison and boy was she fucking hot.

"Now say it. Say you want to be Madison. You want to be the bullying popular Alpha girl."

My pussy was wet, my already partially transformed body felt so good. I needed more... I needed the shadows to corrupt me completely.

"Yessss I want to be Madison."

I screamed and orgasmed as I said it, feeling the shadows flowing into me and destroying Melanie forever. All the kind gentle nice parts of me were consumed and the shadows pumped me full of evil, mean bratty thoughts.

Melanie died in that instant and I... Madison... took control.

Long bitchy nails shot out from my fingers. My face became meaner and even prettier, soft pouty lips curving into a bratty grin. My clothing became designer, my handbag expensive and my personality became that of a spoiled rich bitch.

Reality rippled and changed. Only Jason and I would remember the old me. It was as if Melanie had never existed and only I had been born.

The shadows withdrew, but they left their mark. I was a fucking evil bitch now, devoid of mercy. I only cared about myself... oh and Jason of course.

"How do you feel baby?" he grinned, towering over me in his Adonis body.

"I feel amazing baby," I grinned. "In fact I want to thank you for being the best boyfriend ever."

I giggled and sank eagerly to my knees. My long nails looked so hawt as I unzipped Jason's fly and his huge ten inch dick flopped out.

Moaning I began to pump and suck his cock. This was who and what I worshipped now. Jason had taken me from that loser James.

"Yesssss, good girl," grunted Jason as he put his hands gently on my head and pushed me deeper onto his cock. "You're my slutty bitch now and I have everything I ever wanted."

I just gagged and gargled happily, I fucking loved my man's big cock.

I couldn't wait for him to cum. I needed to taste it...

***

And so that is how I ascended from being a fucking pathetic loser into a Goddess myself. Jason is the Master of the Shadow and so long as he holds that power I am his willing accomplice.

Soon after the transformation James came home. He no longer remembered I had ever been his girl, but that didn't stop me and Jason fucking loudly next door and laughing about the little simp jerking off in his room next door.

I felt so evil and perfect. Being Madison was like a perpetual state of orgasm. The meaner and nastier I was, the better it all felt.

Sometimes I wondered what would have happened if James had smashed that bottle instead of Jason? Perhaps he would be the Alpha stud with the delicious bitchy girlfriend.

But it was just idle speculation. The shadows answered to Jason...

And I answered only to the shadows now.

THE END

[godhandler]

Ex-boyfriend Gojo who shows up at your house 5 years later. He looks a bit different now. 

|Souls are laid to rest after the death of the body. As for Gojo Satoru, his soul rests with you. In other words, your terrible ex-boyfriend is having way too much fun haunting you|

|satoru gojo x reader, fluff, lil bitty angst, gojo being gojo, 1400 words, desi-coded reader|

previous series masterlist

Sometimes you wonder if you are a character trapped in a story. Ant in a glacier, you shout and kick but are ultimately powerless, swept along by a narrative you are but a puppet to. It’s nothing new, you’ve felt this way every day for the past almost 30 years; days that keep passing by while you remain where you were.

Your author could have written you a story where you’re a princess and the dashing knight falls in love with you. Or perhaps where you’re a powerful elf magician who conquers the universe. Hell, even a side character in Mob Psycho 100 gets a nicer life than you. 

It only follows that your author is bored and talentless and cruel, because why else would they torment you like this? Why else would the love of your life come back to haunt you?

“... hey, honeycheeks?” Satoru opens an eye. For the past few days since he appeared he’s taken to sleeping (or quietly hovering horizontally) on his side of the bed next to you. “Why are you still up?”

Lately it feels like everything you do is done through you, rather than by you. You have to do something, feel something, assert your freedom of action. Make you feel like a person again. 

You scream for a full 20 seconds before Satoru, aghast, claps a hand (that passes right through you) to your mouth, worried that the neighbours will start banging on the wall, a stray ‘shut the fuck up!’ wafting in through the window. You haven’t slept well since he got here, except, you know, when you passed out. If your current mental state is anything to go, he needs to get you to bed before you lose it completely. 

“No– get off– I have to–are you real, Satoru? Are you? Am I?” 

Satoru’s never been able to hide his thoughts from you, so you can see clear on his face the fear and worry about you. A tinge of pity too. You’re behaving so erratically, so unlike the calm rational lady he remembers you as, one who took all of life’s curveballs in stride. Has he hurt you that much? What does it say about the kind of person Satoru is if his reappearance hurts you more than his disappearance? 

The ghostly form is warm, warm as the sun’s heat on a winter day, and he opens his arms to call you to its warmest core– his heart. You lie back down, pulled into the bedsheets and you shock yourself when you reflexively pull the blankets over both your heads. Like you used to. Like you haven’t forgotten.

Satoru glows too. Gentle light of fireflies and starlight. All humans do, you remember reading in your physics textbook: all heat-emitting bodies emit light energy as well. Satoru is all soul and no body to bar the glow– he lights up your little cave under the blankets. 

“I’m real, my love.” 

Why does it wrap thorns around your insides? Why do the tears burn down your neck, refusing to obey your composure? Why are you losing your grip on everything?

“I’ve always imagined that you’d come back.” Your whispers slip out before you can help it. “You’d stand on the doorstep with a huge bouquet of red roses and chocolate-covered-strawberries. I’ll open the door, and be so shocked! I’d say, “So you think you can just buy me flowers and I’d forgive you?” and you’d get on your knees and beg me to take you back, or at least let you inside the house. Our house. Then I’d say, “Fine, but you have to leave after tea!” And you don’t. You just never leave. Ha ha–” your suddenly realise what you’re saying, though not enough to regret it. “– I know, it’s cliche, don’t tease me… But I knew you, Satoru. I knew it’d never happen; I knew that you were done with me for good.”

And after a full year, Satoru Gojo’s blueflame eyes wet again with the unbearable weight of the past. 

“But if I knew that you’d come back like this–” you bury your head into Satoru’s unruly cloud of hair. His fingers grasp you tight into his embrace, shoulders heave with every sob that wrecks through his body. He can’t look you in the eye. How could he? He’s done so much wrong, so much that cannot be fixed, left so much unfinished. “–I’d have wanted you to stay away.”

“You gave me some of my best memories.” He weeps. Ghost tears fall that do not wet your bosom. “Some of my best days in life. I– I came back– I couldn’t–” 

He chokes and waits for the uncontrollable hiccups to die down, a tic of his whenever he cries too hard. The first time it happened was when you pushed him down a slide he was a bit scared of, and he kept hiccuping and heaving until his distraught nanny took him to his pediatric doctor. He was 2 then. He would’ve been 29 now. 

His voice steadies enough to talk, chest still shaking as he cries. He can’t help it. He’s given up trying to. “I don’t know much, but this much I can figure out. I’m done for, I’ve passed away. I’m sorry, my love, I tried not to, but I died. I’m sorry. It was a fight and I couldn’t win this time. Don’t worry, it’s over now, my students defeated the terrorist, everyone’s safe, you’re safe, love. Everything will go back to how it was–”

“–it won’t,” you cry. “Not without you.”

“There’s no point mourning the dead, I was loved enough in my life. I mean,” he finally has the courage to look at you, allowing a watery smile. There’s tears even in his teeth. “I got to be loved by you. What more can I ask? And that’s what I figured out, I think. Tell me, love, what do you see when you look at me? What am I wearing?”

“Huh? You look just like the day you left. 5 years ago.” 

“Am I jacked like Musclemon?”

You can’t help but laugh. “No, silly, you look exactly like the day you left. Tall lean muscles, sure, but I won’t call you Musclemon. The chocolate bear hoodie you were wearing, grey sweatpants, the blindfold I gave you.” 

The last one was specially hand-made by you. You had to call in a favour from your blacksmithing friends to create a light-weight lead composite shield, which you then tailored foam and padding to create the most opaque blindfold possible. To help him sleep better at night.   

“That’s now how others see me.”

“Others can see you? Who's ‘others’?”

“No, no, not everyone. Just some people I couldn’t say goodbye to. Get closure properly, you know. As far as I can tell, it’s Suguru, Shoko, the children. They all saw me as how they remembered me.” He said. He’s always loved to explain, despite the fact that he’s crying right now. “I don’t know if this happens to everyone or just me, but at the time of death, your soul goes to wherever they find comfort. Mine was split into a few separate pieces, but those parts are done. I talked enough to everyone, bothered them till they told me to go, ha-ha… Suguru’s waiting for me to leave with him.”

“Suguru’s soul?”

“Yes.”

“Leave where? When?”

“I don’t mind, I’ll go wherever he takes me, I trust him. And I’ll go when you tell me to. When you’re done with me.” He whispers. Secrets beyond the grave that he entrusts with you. “But if you keep me with you, if you don’t tell me to leave, I never will. Not this time.”

You must be imagining it, but Satoru seems to get heavier, even though all he is is a ball of cloud. Almost like he was actually lying tangled with you. Must be your imagination. 

Clearly, neither of you are doing very well, or at least well enough to trust your senses. Come tomorrow morning, the barriers will come up again, the awkwardness of proper social conduct seeping through with the sunlight, childish words will go unsaid. 

“I loved you, Satoru. I love you.” It’s the truth, no point in hiding it. It’s destiny beyond himself that his soul came to you. “But more than that I miss you.”

Maybe if you prayed very, very hard, you could convince your author to write you a better story. 

a/n: reader also sees gojo with the engagement band on his finger she just can't get herself to say it out loud

gojo sees himself as nothing eslse but two glowing blue eyes

geto saw gojo as the 17 year old student he left him as. just to clarify, gojo's soul was "split" or in better words, different versions of his souls talked to his loved ones after his death and those versions have found peace and moved on. since geto is the only one dead in that line-up, in a way, he's waited for a year for him to die and join him. geto was prepared to wait as long as he needed to (he hoped that it would be long). reader's version is the only one that's left unresolved. do you think gojo wants to be resolved/freed?

[vermilionskiinmorning]

Abandoned || Enver Gortash x F! Resist Urge-Durge

Quick note edited 12/04/24: Changed a few details of this story. Removed reference to Gortash kissing durge during the coronation scene & tweaked context of the memory flash she gets during this.

Summary: The Dark Urge meets with Gortash in his private rooms the evening after the coronation.

Words: 3989

-----

“Come to me, tonight. We have so much to discuss. None will hinder you.”

She’d just stepped out of the fortress when the words were beamed into her mind in Gortash’s voice. A send message spell clearly.

______

Feravel stood at the foot of Wyrm’s rock looking up at a balcony high above. Its doors were open and light spilled out into the night. She didn’t have to investigate to know he was up there waiting for her. For nearly half an hour, Feravel sat on her boulder contemplating everything she could remember -which was admittedly very little- and comparing it with the information Gortash had shared. The most frustrating part was that she could detect no lie. He had been so infuriatingly open about the whole thing, earnest even in his proposition for an alliance. Furthermore, she supposed the Emperor was right when he suggested she could accept the alliance and not honor it. Feravel was set on destroying the brain. In no realm of existence would she use it to subjugate and that decision was only further cemented with this revelation that the whole mess…was her own doing.

She sighed. A tear forming in her eye as she remembered Gale’s harsh words.

“So this all is your doing?! Not just a Bhaalspwan-" He scoffed. "But the chosen of Bhaal? I need to be alone. I need to think.”

Astarion had tried to rest a hand on her shoulder, but she’d shrugged it off and not gone back to the Elf Song since. Instead she’d taken to meandering through the bustling streets of the Gate trying to remember her life, but gods all she could remember was blood and that unruly black haired man which she now knew had to be Enver Gortash. Even before meeting him at the coronation, she’d felt a sense of familiarity toward him -warmth- looking at his face plastered on posters around the Gate.

She turned her mind back to Gale. Gale who was so kind and genuinely good even when she was moody or difficult. Who saw the best in her always. The one she loved, but if Gale wanted space, she needed to give it to him. She couldn’t be emotional about it and then face Gortash. The man had keen eyes, he would certainly notice, so she took a moment to school herself. There was also the disadvantage that he clearly knew her and well.

Perhaps it would be easier to deal with him alone like this, though, instead of with the pressure of an audience. There were only two ways this discussion would end after all; an alliance or his death -damn what her buried self felt about it. After a deep calming breath, Feravel looked up at the balcony again and misty stepped directly onto the rail. Hopping from the rail to the stone floor with a dull thud as her manner of announcing her presence.

“You always have liked to keep me waiting.” Said Gortash, promptly and with a distinct note of fondness.

His back was to her and he was seated at his desk, but there was a meal laid out on the nearby table.

“Help yourself. I’m sure you haven’t eaten what with wandering around the city all day. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Hesitant, Feravel stood just outside on the balcony watching him. He was at ease here not troubled at all by her unconventional manner of arrival -had expected it even. Gone was his overcoat, gilded bracers, and gloves, leaving him looking oddly exposed before a possible enemy; he was dressed in only his fine black shirt, trousers and leather boots. Was it a display of confidence? Or did he genuinely believe himself safe in her presence? Either left Feravel feeling off kilter which she supposed was his aim.

“The food isn’t poison if that’s what you’re thinking.” Enver added when he didn’t hear her enter the room.

She stepped inside, but didn’t close the door behind her as she strode over to the table. Leaving herself a quick escape should she need it. Despite the fact she was hungry, Feravel ignored it in favor of asking the obvious instead.

“You’ve been spying on me?”

Enver put down his quill and turned to face her. “Spying sounds so…invasive. I’ve simply kept tabs on your little traveling group. Ever since I saw you in the eye at the goblins camp, before you destroyed it that is, I’ve kept an ear out so to speak. Nothing so organized as spying.”

Feravel wrinkled her nose. Whatever he said, it sounded very much like spying and she didn’t much appreciate it.

“Whatever.”

She plucked an orange from the fruit bowl and rolled it between her fingers. It was firm, but not hard. Fresh, he’d brought out the good stuff in anticipation of her arrival. A brief thought of the joy she’d felt when Gale had gifted her one he managed to find during their travels. Enver knew her fondness for oranges as well it seemed. How was that supposed to make her feel? Whatever his intent, it only made her more wary of him.

She considered the orange a moment longer before deciding he must be telling the truth and pulling out a paring knife to slice the fruit. Why waste good food to poison her? He certainly didn’t seem to want her dead. Nor, had she thus far detected any hint of deception from him.

Popping a slice into her mouth, Feravel turned her attention back to him. He was watching her with just the hint of a smile. She got the feeling he was remembering something she couldn’t. It made her frown. That memory she’d seen in his mind… She resisted the urge to covertly cast detect thoughts on him again -after all she’d gotten much more than she bargained for before.

“So what’s the play here?” She asked finally when she couldn’t take the weight of his gaze any longer.

Amusement flared in his eyes. “Play?”

Feravel furrowed her brow. “The late night meeting-“

“It is only late by your own choice. You could have come hours ago.”

“The food. This-“ She huffed, gesturing vaguely to him causing Enver to raise one eyebrow at her. “As if you’re meeting a friend…not a potential assassin.”

He chuckled. “Are you here to kill me?”

Feravel clenched her jaw. It grated her how blatantly he was enjoying himself. The urge sang with excitement at her irritation: kill him, it will please your little friends, make them a gift of him innards. It will please father. Destroy the Banite. Flay his skin, carve the smirk from his foul lips-

She abruptly shut the thoughts down.

“I could be. You did say I was your favorite assassin.”

Enver spread his arms as if in another context he might be offering a hug. “Then by all means, my dear. I am all yours.”

A muscle in her face twitched. Did he think himself funny? How foolish was he to temp her urge like this? Tense moments passed. She wondered if from his spying he’d determined she wouldn’t just kill him outright or if he was playing with her. The notion brought forth a wave of bloodlust that she had to focus to master. Consequentially causing her to miss the knowing way Enver was appraising her.

“No?” He finally asked once he deemed the moment had passed. Getting to his feet, he strode over to her, reaching out to stroke her cheek with the back of his hand, but Feravel swiftly stepped back. Enver hummed apparently in consternation. “Well I suppose after all you’ve endured it would be difficult to expect us to pick up where we left off.”

Her mouth went dry. Even with the space she’d asserted between them, he was close. If he’d wanted to, Enver could still reach out and touch her. The thought made her heart race and heat rise up her neck. Her eyes flicked over his partially exposed chest and she inhaled sharply unwittingly taking in a fine scented perfume she recognized. Dark rosewood and vanilla bourbon, Feravel found herself breathing more slowly to savor the scent.

“I had hoped coming of your own will to be a good sign. That you remembered more than you were letting on infront of your companions.” He looked a touch disappointed. “But it does seem Orin did quite the number on you.”

She hummed condescendingly pushing away the fog his scent had momentarily clouded her mind with.

“Yes, well from where I’m standing it seems my nearest and dearest ally did nothing to prevent that. Perhaps I could be forgiven for not being quick to pick up where we supposedly left off.”

“But you’d trust a group of misfit strangers?”

“A parasite shared is a parasite halved…so I’ve heard.” Feravel said with a shrug.

“Well you should know. I did not let her kill you. We weren’t to meddle in eachother’s affairs. You were very clear on that. All I could do was warn you of her ambitions which I did -duly- to which you explicitly told me you intended to handle it. I wasn’t to know the inner workings of your father’s temple.”

The words sparked a feeling of recognition in her gut. A conversation long forgotten, now just whispers. She couldn’t prove or disprove his claim either way so she said nothing.

“You were gone. I have tolerated Orin for the sake of our plan, but I’ve always liked you.”

She sensed something off about the way he said liked. Slightly strained tone as if he’d almost used another word instead.

“Yes well, I hardly remember you and I know nothing of this plan as you’ve dictated it. Frankly I have no interest in either. Orin is Bhaal’s chosen and I am changed. I want only to be free of this threat of becoming a mindflayer and to go my own way.”

Enver pressed his lips into a thin line. She’d hit a nerve. Good, she thought.

“With things as they are, there is an imminent threat to all the infected, but furthermore the entire Sword Coast. Orin is becoming increasingly bold. As I told you earlier, she’s out for blood: yours and mine. She’d kill us both and take the stones for herself. You may have no interest in this plot, her, or the temple of Bhaal, but she will never stop hunting you until one of you is dead. That is a fact. One way or another you will have to deal with Orin. It is only a question of what you’ll do after that.”

She couldn’t help the small nod of agreement. It was in essence, the same conclusion she’d come to. With Orin after her, the issue would shortly come to a head and especially with the spy Enver previously revealed to be at her camp.

“I do intend to deal with Orin. On my own terms.” She said diplomatically .

“I’m sure you’ll make the right choice. An alliance benefits us both. You saw that before. ” He said. “In the mean time, it would be a horrible shame to let a good meal go to waste?”

Feravel expected more pressure from him to outright agree to working with him, but it seemed he felt little concern for it. As if he considered their alliance a foregone conclusion. It irritated her.

She glanced at the table. Her forgotten orange lay on a plate before her. Glancing at Enver, she sighed and went to take a seat. Plots, backstabbing, and alliances aside, she was hungry. Perhaps she could just ignore him while she ate and then disappear.

It was blessedly quiet between them for a time, but Feravel was not blind to the way Enver observed her mannerisms. He was searching for the person he knew in her. She could feel it, but not until she had just finished eating did he decided to speak.

“You are not quite so changed as you think. I very much doubt, you would have made it this far if you were nothing of what you once were.”

Enver did not meet her eyes as he said it, but he was watching her from behind his chalice of wine which he raised to his lips promptly after uttering the words. It was bait. Clearly, but she couldn’t help herself from taking it.

“And what was I before? A bloodthirsty murderer? Simply more controlled than Orin? Easier to steer? A weapon in the Black Hand of Bane?”

“Self assured, shrewd, and cunning.” Enver answered readily. His lips quirked up just slightly at her scornful words. “If a tad short fused…but passionate.”

“Such pretty flattery. One might almost think you earned that silver tongue from a devil.”

“Little surprise, as I did learn from one.” A proper smirk formed on Enver’s lips. “I do not know what you do remember, but I know that you heard my thoughts; or perhaps saw my memory rather, in the hall.”

The blood drained slightly from her face at being caught in her snooping. He’d made no indication at the time he was aware of her presence in his thoughts. Thinking on her feet, Feravel responded dismissively. “An illusion.”

Enver scoffed, his nose wrinkling in distain. “Unlike your little wizard plaything, illusions are not part of my repertoire.”

“A fantasy then.” Feravel snapped.

Enver let out a mirthless laugh. “I’ve never known you to delude yourself like this. Perhaps you are gone.”

“All I remember is death. Bloody, horrible death. This urge to perpetrate it that’s only barely within my control.” Gale’s concerned face as she came back to herself the night she’d almost killed him. Her own crushing guilt at the foul things she’d said. She could almost feel the burn of the ropes on her wrists. “A stain on my soul I will never wash away.”

Enver’s expression was unreadable and he seemed to have no inclination to speak. Pressure through silence, it seemed, but she did not give in at least not at first. As it dragged on, Feravel began to wonder if he was attempting to peer into her thoughts. She didn’t know if he knew such spells, but

“I didn’t know who you were until we reached the city… I saw the posters. Your face. It was familiar.”

She swallowed hard.

“I’d had dreams of a black haired man, but I never saw his face. I saw you and it just…fit? Like a shadow stepping into the light.”

“And these dreams were of what?” His shoulders were tense.

“What were we?”

“What were your dreams?”

They stared unflinchingly across the table at each other. Feravel wondered if it weren’t for the table between them if he’d reach for her again. Did she want him to? Uncertainty coursed through her. She gripped the edge of the table tightly.

“At first, I thought it was Gale I was dreaming of. We’d only just met, but I liked him. I quickly realized though, it couldn’t be him…”

Enver scowled at that. “Your pet wizard? Yes, I’ve heard of him, Mystra’s former chosen. He reached for something greater and failed. She was right to discard him. He’s not worthy of you.”

“It’s not your place to determine who’s worthy of me!”

“You are Bhaal’s chosen! A softhearted fool like that could never accept you.”

Feravel stood so quickly her chair was knocked to the floor.

“I am no one’s chosen and I am more than I was made to be!” She heaved a few deep breaths. Then she spoke again, far more calmly, staring intently at him. “I am my own person.”

“You were mine.”

Heatedly, Enver got to his feet, pushed back his chair and stalked toward her, but she could barely register his movements for his words held her rapt attention.

“I was yours.”

He cradled her cheek with a softness she would not have expected had she not experienced it before. Before? A forgotten memory triggered by his words began to unravel in her mind. It was incomplete and muddled, but the feelings it held were clear.

A calloused palm against her cheek. She leaned into it. Lips lightly brushed over her own, reverent. This was peace. Her place of rest. So long as she did father's will she could keep this -him. Even if one day, her father's will would lead her to murder Enver. A thing she once would've relished. Now seemed so impossible to execute. That was a problem for later though. For now, father knew Enver was useful. So long as she could continue to make use of him toward her father's aims, Enver was safe. Enver was hers.

It had not been long before her death. She could tell that much. And she suspected this moment to have been when her old self had realized she loved Enver.

“It was because of you.” Feravel concluded aloud.

Enver furrowed his brow. “What?”

“I wouldn’t have sacrificed you to Bhaal, had he asked it of me.” Feravel simply. “I doubt he planned to, but it seems knowing that I was unwilling to do so was enough.”

She let out a breathy laugh.

Then Enver was kissing her like a man dying of thirst and she was a spring in a desert. She was carried away by the intensity and familiarity of it so easily. Her fingers brushed tentatively along his jaw as she raised a hand to thread her fingers in his hair. It was just as fine and soft as in her dreams -except this was real. Enver was not a faceless shadow.

He let out a breath he must’ve been holding and drew her more firmly to him wrapping her tightly in his embrace. The way their lips moved and felt together was as natural as breathing. Her body yearned to surrender to him. There was no denying, Enver was telling the truth. This could not be manufactured, imitated or faked. The feelings his embrace elicited within her were not unlike how she felt for Gale. That worried her.

How easy would it be to stay here? Enver seemed to hold the key to so many of her lost memories. Just days ago she had been desperate still to know some semblance of who she was. Now, it was difficult to sort through what she wanted.

What a difference a day can make.

She was starting to feel choked up like she couldn’t breathe and her fingers slipped from Enver’s hair, running down his neck, over his shoulders to rest on his chest. Suddenly Feravel pulled back, but Enver didn’t allow her to go far -tightening his grip on her waist. Enver leaned his head against her’s as they caught their breath.

It took him a moment to realize there were tears running down her cheeks. So strange, he once thought he may never see her cry. Cautiously he wiped one away.

“Fera?” He said barely above a whisper.

With effort, she swallowed any further tears and looked up into his dark brown eyes which were so unlike Gale’s honey brown.

“I should thank you, I suppose.”

Enver furrowed his brow.

“Whatever we had, ultimately made me my own person. It was enough for Bhaal to abandon me.”

She wasn’t free by any means, but perhaps she could be. Killing Orin might be the key to free herself of father and the urge. Whether that meant her death or a life without the evil hiss in her ear, the devil on her shoulder, she didn’t know.

Enver leaned in again and brushed his lips against hers. It was just the faintest touch, but warmth spread through her from it. She could sense he was being cautious and deliberate now.

“I never told you.” He murmured lowly against her lips. Feravel kept still with anticipation. Her eyes closed, breathing steady, committing this moment to her memory. “There wasn’t a right moment, you understand? But I have to now.”

Love. He didn’t have to say it. Despite the broken thing she now was, he still loved her. Whatever he’d been searching for in his observations he’d examined her and had not found her wanting. To him, she was still somehow the same. An overwhelming prospect.

Feravel felt her heart in her throat. Just that morning, Gale had turned to her at the breakfast table and told her he loved her -just because as he often did. Then Astarion had to ruin the moment with an eye roll and a comment about toothaches which earned him a slug in the shoulder from Karlach. There was no one here to interrupt with banter, to ruin this moment though, only them.

She opened her eyes to find his face mere centimeters away.

“I…I can’t.”

Feravel tried to extricate herself from him, but he held her in place. His grip firm, but gentle he stroked her cheek with his thumb, staring deeply into her eyes. For a second, she almost wanted to lean back in, to erase her words.

“Why did you come?”

She furrowed her brow at him. What sort of question was that? He’d summoned her. But he didn’t give her time to answer before continuing.

“You should’ve known I wouldn’t have pursued or forced you here. Our matters are better left private. Causing a scene by dragging you before me would’ve brought scrutiny.“

“How pragmatic.” She said shortly.

He waved the comment away. “I would’ve been upset to be sure, but as I said before somethings are best handled discreetly. So why did you come?”

Silence hung thick between them. Feravel unwilling to utter a response and Enver unwilling to allow the question to pass. Their stalemate went on until Enver tired of her obstinance.

“You wandered the city all day instead of returning to your companions. Then you came to me. Could it be then that you feared their judgement? Or the judgement of one in particular.”

“What do you want from me?” She snapped.

“Are you so blind?” He released her, but didn’t withdraw. There was a tone of weariness in his voice. His guard was coming back up. “I do not take to heart this distraction you’ve taken in the wizard, but now you’re returned to me. You do not need to be burdened by the opinions of sheep.” He paused, then in a more business like tone. “I will provide for you anything you require to retake the cult of Bhaal or destroy it -whichever you choose.”

Feravel stared at him. Men of exceptional ambition. Was this her type? Two different lives she’d lived and yet. Despite their vast differences, she’d fallen for men who were not so terribly unalike as they first appeared.

“I-I have to go.”

Without giving him a chance to pull her back, Feravel nimbly twisted away, misty stepped to the rail and jumped -opening a dimension door below her as she fell. She didn’t see Enver race for the balcony to peer over the edge and only just catch a glimpse of her portal before it popped out of existence.

Frustration boiled in him at her disappearance, leaving him feeling exposed in a way he would never usually allow. He slammed his fist on the table to release some of the pent up emotion. She would be back he told himself. After disposing of Orin, she would return to him one way or another.

However, he’d known this was a possibility. He’d gambled with how much she could remember -allowing his emotions to take too much of the lead. It had been unlikely for her to agree to anything right away. She’d always had a will of her own and did still. Besides, he mused, it would’ve been unpalatably weak had she just crumpled, immediately abandoning her newfound compatriots. The lord Bane would not have been pleased with such an ally or companion for his chosen.

[imagineitdearies]

Deep-Dive into Perfect Slaughter: The Moon

There are a lot of big themes in this trilogy of a fic that are loud and proud, like fate, hope, trust, pixie dust, and love.

But a couple of you requested a while back to know about some of the nods, references, and literary devices from the fic that maybe weren't so plain to the eye. I tried at first making a list--but the very first bullet got so long, I think I have to accept that most of these will need their own post 😂

So, without further ado, here's a little deep dive into one of the big motifs throughout Perfect Slaughter: the moon!

While this story has little to do with the gods--except maybe to show how often they don't show up for people in Faerun unless they need something--the moon throughout Tyrus's story represents many things outside of its connotations to Selûne. In ch1 we learn he comes from Reithwin, a town of people who all worship the moon goddess, so on a basic level the moon acts as a beacon home for him throughout the story, a reminder to the reader of his past even once he's forgotten--and a tiny bit of foreshadowing, that he will return to it one day.

On a deeper level, I'd say the moon is a representation of Cynda and Tyrus's bond with her, a comfort he turns to subconsciously throughout the story. For instance--in ch15, as I'm sure many of you recall, he prays to Selûne first, because "the moon was a celestial light that hadn’t shunned him since the Turning." While that does him little good, this small line was a subtle promise to Tyrus/the reader that Cynda would not shun him or love him less when she does eventually learn of his vampirism.

Tyrus also makes a promise while looking up at the moon that he would "free Astarion, no matter what" (ch11), a very important oath he holds onto for the rest of the story. And when he's about to face what he thinks is his death, "Tyrus swallowed hard, whispered the moon a short 'Goodbye,' and allowed Astarion to lead him back into the shadows" in ch35. On some subconscious level, saying a permanent goodbye to his sister and the chance of returning home as well.

(In that same scene: "they watched the moon set on the final night before the feast, Selune’s tears glinting off the early traces of dawn with an extra winking glow" -- Tyrus’s subconscious thinking that Cynda will truly have to mourn/cry for him now)

The moon's cycle was also used to indicate how much he remembers Cynda throughout the story. It's full and brilliant when he first crawls out of his grave as a newly born vampire in ch3, when his memories are still accessible. It's a "vivid crescent" after he's finally allowed outside in ch11, when he's mostly forgotten her. And it is a setting moon and has a "faded face" in ch35, when she's lost entirely to his conscious mind and he thinks he's about to die. But, like the celestial body itself, Cynda was never truly gone even when he couldn't see/remember her. In ch40, "a full moon rising from the east" as they enter the druid-harper camp foretells that the two siblings are about to reunite at last 🩵

Add on top of all that the fact she literally becomes a Selûnite cleric during this time apart . . . it's really not so subtle, when you think about it 😂

There is another much subtler moon motif, though! This was far less intentional on my part than everything above, but my mind was blown after I noted the parallels between Tyrus's character arc and this moon rabbit myth halfway through writing, and the amount of rabbits planned in my story multiplied...like rabbits! (More on animal metaphors in a future post maybe 😉)

With this idea of the selfless moon rabbit in mind, one can argue at its deepest level the moon metaphor in Perfect Slaughter isn't just about Tyrus's sister, but a reminder of his own kind, loving soul that is still in him despite all the pain and betrayal that has twisted him.

Getting even further into the weeds--if you subscribe to the "Astarion is a moon elf" headcanon, and remember how Tyrus's love for Astarion is highlighted in both Tystar moon scenes in part 3 (ch26 and 35 specifically), one could argue that Tyrus's heart is the moon, and so comes to represent his love for not only Cynda but Astarion as well, which is what saves all of them--a heart, the true place 'home' resides in 🥰

Alright, that's enough from me! Let me know if you have questions or noted other moon motifs/metaphors! I hope you all enjoyed 🩵

[nerdallwritey]

for the fic asks!

✅🔚🤔😊

✅ list one or two favorite lines you’ve written and explain why they’re your favorite

HMM. Good question. There are certain lines that I write where I'm like "Oh this. This is beautiful," but of course none of them are coming to me now. I'll list a few sequences I love rereading though! (Sorry for the yappage, but are we surprised?)

An Evening to Ourselves

“Rather aerodynamic, isn’t he?” Gale remarked. - Making fun of Astarion's predator run

When you're overthinking in your tent and Astarion's like "I can hear you thinking from across camp" lol

The moment where Astarion's mask goes up and it scares you enough that it snaps him out of it

General Astarion softness with your firsts

Just to Ruin Me

The whole waking up sequence where Astarion smacks you and you hit him with a pillow

"I did have a knife."

The companions finding you snoozing together

Astarion tackling you to the ground and forgetting you need to breathe

Cheeks All Flushed

Shadowheart's wrath

Astarion attempting and failing to get drunk

Gale asking minimal questions about pranking Astarion

Withers

Perfect Every Time

Astarion snoozing on your chest

“Oh I didn’t, but I wanted you to think your little thought experiment had actually evoked some sort of… thought… in me.” He made a face. “Want to try and rephrase that?” “Not particularly.”

Splash fight

Fish love

Worth the Peril

Comparing Astarion to a Barbarian

Feral/protective Astarion right after the injury

"You're allowed to love her"

Reading sequence

About to Strike

Astarion not knowing who Jaheira is

Stretching to prove you feel fine and failing miserably

The entire Jaheira poisoning you sequence

Finding the ring then pampering the elf

Okay CLEARLY I found a few good quotes while skimming through 😅

🔚 have you ever completely changed the direction a piece was going?

I'm sure I have. I usually go into writing with an idea of what I want to say/big plot points and then the bits in between kind of just weave everything together. I know that "Perfect Every Time" was supposed to be part of "Worth the Peril," but it got too long and I made it its own part! I also have the memory of a goldfish and will have ideas while I'm not in front of my computer and then forget it and have to come up with something else.

🤔 why do you write fic?

Honestly? I think I was putting off finishing my first play through of bg3. I didn't want my time with the companions to end so I kind of decided not to let it and tried to bring them to life through more storytelling. I also really wanted to write about Astarion being thrown off by a Tav. I've said it before, but the idea for "An Evening to Ourselves" came to me while I was trying to sleep one night and I made myself laugh when thinking about how if Astarion propositioned me, I'd be like "Wait, me? Why?" lol. I was also in a really unmotivated/somewhat depressed state back in the spring (when I started writing this series) and I really needed a way to be creative and have some fun. I regret nothing! I'm having a blast with you guys and am glad you enjoy the dorks I write about!

😊 say something nice about your writing

I do love my dialogue. It comes very easily to me, whereas prose and description can be a little more difficult. I guess my brain is just wired to think of quick snappy dialogue as opposed to waxing poetic about the vampire's beauty. But I make myself laugh a lot with the dumb things I make the characters say, and I know if EYE am laughing, that you guys probably will too :)

[tobias-wants-to-write]

Hey just letting anyone whose interested know: I have a side blog for short original stories. This blog is for original stories but its more about my books I want to write or are currently writing like Alma's Grave. (By the way if you want to hear more about that or want updates just send me an ask)

My side blog is @here-have-some-stories. I have about three stories on there, two of them complete and one of them still in progress, but chapters come out like chapters on A03.

The first one is Silent Laughter. Silent Laughter is a short horror about a sleep paralysis demon and a boy named Jimmy I think. I forgot my own characters name. He's pretty much alone in the town and is slowly being hunted and tormented by the demon. A lot of it is cliches but I'm actually kind of proud on how it turned out. That one is complete so if it sounds interesting and you wanna go check it out, you can read the full thing right now.

The next one is Massacre Masquerade. This ones my favourite. I actually care about the story and I love the characters. This one is about a kind of alternate universe where there are modern day knights. The new knights who are just about to start their jobs are having a masked ball as a celebration. The disasters that are not accidents start to happen and people get murdered. The building gets put on lockdown and no one can leave until they find a clue of who did it. The murderer planned multiple "accidents" though, and while everyone is locked inside, more murders occur. The main characters are Deacon, Leon and Bailey. The entire thing is a murder mystery, and I'm proud of this one as well, even though this is the other one that isn't complete. I've already planned everything about this story and I'm excited for when I get it finished. If this sounds like the type of thing you're interested in, then go check it out and rate my writing skills. Also it is a gay romance as well, but that's not the main point its just a bit on the side which is how I like my romance

My other story is a two parter called Paper Love. Paper Love is heavily inspired by that one queer animation about those drawings who are in love and try to be together, I can't remember what it's called. Paper Love is about two drawings, one a fairy and the other a steampunk elf and they could see each other from across the room since they are hung up on different walls, and even though they don't know each other, they're pretty much already in love. And yes, this is also queers. They're my pretty little lesbians. Go read it if you want.

I also have two short stories I wrote in English that I felt like posting:

The Slide - Something about murder that happened on a slide (read the warnings)

Just Need Time - Something about depression and getting help with that

If any of this sounds interested, feel free to go and check out that blog. I very much welcome it, and not a lot of people have read it so I'm trying to find more people to read it and give me feedback on whether its good or not.

[lily-lilou]

My breef thoughts on TDP Season 6, not at all in order (also, spoilers so watch out!)

So, main thought? Ouch

Prepare tissues, I needed so much it's unbelievable

Remember we learned, with "Through the Moon" that Rayla's flower sank in the Silvergrove? Well, I don’t wanna imagine what Ethari will feel when he’ll see his big cat come back, have maybe an omnious feeling, and then see Rayla’s flower sink again a few days later... Then both flowers go back and the poor guy will have so many heart attack I ache for him.

Glad to see that frozen ship (hehe) finally move

about said frozen ship, I hope Rayla's "if you have to chose between me and the greater good, do the right thing. make the sacrifice” won't come bite her back because knowing Callum... well, usually he wouldn't, he’s proven time and again that he will always choose her and his loved ones above the greater good. But, you know... never say never...

one last star diamond, one last miracle maker stone. Wonder on what it will be used? (my bet: something about Leola)

Leola is the cuetest cutie ever.

I was all "Cutie Pie! I've know you for like five seconds but if anything happens to you I'll kill everyone and then myself"

But apparently Aaravos called dibs on that plan...

Tissues, guys. Tissues. Your body won't have enough water for all the tears you'll shed.

Lain and Tiadrin : re - ouch. (and ouch for their total screen time since S1...)

Mini Baits

Soren OMG

Viren's backstory (or more like his relationship with Soren's backstory) : prepare tissues.

CLAUDIA!!!!

And Terry, he's the best boi ever with Callum

SO!!!! MY THEORY ABOUT LOVE BEING MAGIC WAS RIGHT?! Though, from what I can see so far, it's not exactly a magic on its own in the same way the others are, but it's a glue in between, what makes the scale tips in the right direction. Interesting, hmmm? :D

oh yeah, the Cosmic Order. I hate them. I've always been prompt to give everyone some leeway in this show, even Sol Regem because I could bet all of them had "ReAsoNs" to act the way they did, no matter how horrible. The cosmic order, though?

they didn’t just kill a kid, they did it out of fear despite being the most powerful out there. My little theory (how long ago was the last one XD) is all about their view of things : destiny, fate, everything should be as is should. Except humans are unpredictable, and that scares them.  Which is why, apparently, showing them magic is a crime.

But hey, if Kung fu panda taught me one thing, it’s that it’s on the path where you hope avoiding it, that you meet your fate. And in killing the kid, they just ensured that destruction they feared so much (now, how they managed to not see that coming? Easy! When you’re emotionally stunt enough to think allowing a father to die with his daughter is a mercy, you’re just destined to die.)

Speaking of mercy. Mrs Merciful One! You’ll excuse my foul language, you all, but I’ll say it anyway : Fuck you! Never have I hated someone more in this whole show that this one. And if I find the damn idiot who called that elf “the merciful one”, I’ll roast them slowly and painfully (Aaravos probably already did, but hey, I'm sure resurecting people can be a thing...)

oh yeah, a very tiny but so crucial point: Runnan is back =)

And Katolis is a big chunk of charcoal...

Ok that's all for now

Have a nice day everyone! I'll come back from time to time. Now, I'm gonna try to cope with all of this, because this is gonna give me some kind of PTSD I'm sure T.T

[blackjackkent]

Fic request, BG3: Karlach/fem Tav, where Tav has died. After the reserection scroll is used, Karlach goes to pieces. Hurt/comfort.

Eyyyy, ty for the prompt! Sorry this took me a little while to turn around. :D Was fun to write, though; I do love me some Karlach romance and some hurt/comfort. <3 I hope you like!

-----

“You hear that?” Tav asks. The half-elf’s eyes narrow, glinting in the pale light of the moonlantern that is all that protects them from the cursed shadows. “Hold on a sec.”

Karlach halts obediently with the others and listens intently. Her head tips slowly to one side like a dog pricking up its ears, and her eyes drift half-closed in focus. But there's nothing. 

The shadow-cursed lands are, in fact, eerily quiet. The place is not only devoid of civilization but life - there's no sound of birdsong, no creatures creeping through underbrush, no leaves or plants of any kind. There's not even a stirring of breeze to knock together the dried branches of the long-dead trees. 

Karlach hates it. It reminds her too fucking much of the desolation of the Hells, dead and dry and full of dangers. Not nearly as hot as Avernus, she'll say that much for it, and dark as the inside of her boot. But still a little too close for comfort. 

“Don't hear anything, Soldier,” she says in a low voice. Astarion and Shadowheart both shake their heads as well. Then Karlach grins, an automatic reaction to the brief moment of tension. “Must've been my heart pounding, eh?” 

Astarion rolls his eyes. “Ugh. Gods,” he murmurs tauntingly. “Is that what passes for smooth in Zariel's army?”

Tav grins. “Shut up, Astarion,” she says, giving him a casual punch in the shoulder. 

“I'm just saying,” Astarion quips, “if we're going to have to watch the two of you give each other cow eyes every day of the week, you're going to have to come up with some better material.”

Karlach sticks her tongue out at him. “No one asked you, Fangs,” she shoots back. But she's laughing. It's really hard not to laugh these days, in spite of all the terrible shit happening to them. Astarion can mock all he wants - but she's in love, real love, for the first time in ten years. The first time maybe ever, truth told, because she can't remember any quick fuck back in the Gate that ever made her feel like Tav does. 

Tav is… gentle. Kind. When she touches Karlach it feels like the whole world is opening up to her, a feeling of hope like everything is gonna be okay. So yeah, Astarion can laugh all he wants, if it makes him feel better. Karlach really couldn't give less of a shit. 

She's happy. 

Too happy, as it turns out, because she's so lost in thinking these thoughts and watching the way Tav's smile looks in the lanternlight that she doesn't notice the first arrow coming in. 

-----

Tav’s scream is like a knife. Blood spatters across the dark ground as the arrow punctures her shoulder. 

A lithe, pale figure darts out of the shadows with a high-pitched giggle and throws something around Tav’s neck. Then in an instant she’s gone, vanished with the creature into thin air.

“Tav!” Karlach starts to shout - but it's choked off as another garrote bites sharply under her jaw and she's yanked backwards into the dark. 

It’s a horrific battle, one of the worst they’ve faced since the nautiloid. The meazels - little shits, every one of them - are quick and cunning, separating the party out into the searing darkness, silencing spells, bleeding them dry. Karlach doesn’t need spells, though, and her usual battle-rage is bolstered by a stunning degree of pain and an entirely unexpected violent panic. 

She wrenches her axe from the corpse of the meazel that grabbed her and tears off through the dark. Unheeding of both the blood pouring from her neck and the necrotic energy chewing into her skin, uncaring of what other enemies might hear her, she bellows at the top of her lungs. “Tav! TAV!”

“She’s here!” That’s Shadowheart, her voice weak. “Karlach, over here!”

Karlach almost trips, so quickly does she change direction towards the cleric’s call. Like a rothe maddened with fear, she leaves the path and crashes directly through the desiccated underbrush, dead plants shattering apart around her with every step.

Tav is dead when she gets there. 

Shadowheart is crouched over her, a useless healing spell in the process of drifting off her fingers. Astarion, blood dripping from his lips, crawls from the darkness opposite her. But Karlach’s eyes are locked on the form of Tav’s body in the dim light from her torch, the eyes blank and staring, the garrote wound flowing freely.

“Oh, no,” she whispers. “No, no, no, no--”

“It’s all right.” Shadowheart’s voice feels oddly far away. “I have a scroll, I’ll revive her-- Karlach, for gods’ sake, breathe!”

She is breathing - too fast, too shallow. The cut at her own throat throbs with each pulse of her heart. She drops the axe with a clang onto the ground and she falls on her knees at Tav’s side, grabbing the smaller woman’s hand and holding it between both of hers. “No, darling, no…” she mumbles. “Gods, don’t-- don’t look at me like that…”

How many dead people has she seen in her life? Could fill a library writing all their names down… But none of them have been her… those blank eyes are so wrong in her face which is always so full of life and humor and warmth… nothing like Karlach’s inferno heat but warmth and safety and home…

“Bring her back…” she rasps out desperately. “Please…”

The magic of the revivify scroll swirls around them as Shadowheart murmurs the words. There’s an achingly long pause during which Karlach finds herself reviewing every single moment of their brief time together and passing through every stage of grief in order; she’s just about reached “depression” when Tav’s eyes flicker open.

“K-Karlach?” she whispers, and then her body spasms around a sudden fit of coughing as she gasps for breath. 

“Oh, gods.” Karlach’s whole body sags with a relief as overwhelming as the grief was. Without thinking, she reaches out and pulls Tav up and into her arms, tight against the heat of her chest. “Oh, fuck… Soldier… Tav… shit…”

The words tumble out, one after the other, and she’s startled to realize that each of them is a sob, raggedly dragging out of her throat between hiccuped, jerky breaths. She’s alive. It’s not over. It’s not over. Oh, thank the gods…

“Hey. Ow. Hey…” Tav mumbles. It’s muffled from how Karlach has her pulled close; her face is sort of squished into Karlach’s shoulder. “It’s all right. Darling, it’s all right, but I can’t breathe.”

“Oh. Right.” She forces herself to loosen her embrace enough for Tav to draw her head back. “You-- sorry. Fuck. You scared me. I thought… I thought…” She can’t say it out loud. The words don’t come out.

“You’re hurt.” Tav gently touches the garotte wound in Karlach’s neck, wiping at the blood there.

“You died!” Karlach says with a sudden, hysterical laugh, flinching backwards. “Don’t worry about me! Just… you just sit there and… and breathe, or whatever, and… oh gods…” The tears blind her.

“Karlach…” Tav sits up in her lap. She’s unsteady, of course, because revivification is a brutal process at the best of times, but her eyes are clear. That hideous blankness is gone from them and they’re full again with the light that drew Karlach to her first. “Shhh.” She cups Karlach’s face gently with both hands and kisses her. “It’s all right… I promise. I’m here. All limbs attached, everything accounted for. And heart very much beating.”

Karlach gives her a watery smile, tries and fails to quiet her choked breathing into something manageable. “I just-- I saw you there… like that… and I suddenly realized… how much shit has gone wrong in my life… how it all changes so fast… but you’ve been good… you’ve been so fucking good, Tav…”

“I’m here. I’m here…” Tav presses her forehead to Karlach’s and draws a slow, shaky breath. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I promise…”

Slowly Karlach begins to settle again, feeling the gentle brush of Tav’s breath on her lips. It’s not over. “You’d better not,” she mumbles.

She realizes suddenly that they’re alone. Shadowheart has taken one of the torches and bodily dragged Astarion off some distance away, leaving them more or less in private. Karlach’s grateful for that; she’s not sure she could handle Astarion’s acerbic wit right at this moment.

“Fuck,” she whispers after a short pause, a little more calmly now. “Sorry, I--”

“Hey. Don’t you ever apologize for anything,” Tav says softly. “Least of all for loving me. You don’t get to say sorry for that.” She kisses Karlach again gently. “You ready to get Shadowheart to clean up that cut?”

“I… yeah. Yeah.” But it takes her a moment to loosen her arms and let Tav out of her embrace. “I do love you,” she says quietly. “So much. And I just got scared as shit about it.”

Tav smiles. “Best kind of scared I know,” she says. 

[inquistors]

@soiasan for our verse!

it was the kind of cold that seeped into your BONES -- the kind that lingered like a ghost even after you've been by a fire for a few hours. she was used to it. traveling in the free marches as a child had her well acquainted with the wind and snow, her ears, cheeks, and nose having seen more wind burns and freezes than she could count. that didn't mean she MISSED IT, though. if anything, it helped reassure her that maybe leaving the free marches was a great idea after all. just like this was.

she peered out from over her wooly scarf, eyes washing over the small village of haven as the sound of faraway wolves and the wind passing through the thick pines reached her ears like a song. this was the right decision. it was the ONLY decision.

breaths quick and thunderous in her ears. another elf dropped by, left elfroot and food in a basket on her stoop. fell to her knees in her presence. hands gripped the edges of the desk until knuckles went white and she could FEEL flames in her fingertips. careful now, or she might burn the whole place down.

and why not? she thought. breaths moving through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. she could see stars behind her eyes with how tightly she had them closed. why shouldn't this so called inquisition burn? it would prove the point that she'd been trying to drive -- she was no herald. she was no savior. she was no HERO. she was just trying to survive.

it only took a few minutes for her to pack everything that she needed -- herbs, the food from the stoop, the elfroot. heavy clothes, lurium potions... she would travel back to her clan, would tell them that she could no longer remain and get their suggestion for a new home. change her name. change -- eyes flickered down to her right hand, glowing sickly green with a consistent, soft CRACKLING sound piercing through the quiet. maybe she would cut it off. if it meant being free.

a puff of air left her mouth and the warm air lingered in the small space between her lips and the scarf as her gaze ripped away from haven and back to the path in front of her. she was grateful for the light snow -- if it continued, it could hide the steps she left behind. most of the lights were out in the windows... everyone asleep, just like she hoped. using her staff as a walking stick, not for the first time, she walked carefully away from her inquisition. magic was used sparingly, but just enough was created to warm her hands and feet -- dying of frost would be rather embarrassing at this point.

she couldn't wait to be gone. even though the cold was brutal, the wind unpleasant at the very BEST, she still carried on with thoughts of the forest, the halla. it was memories of her clan, as flawed as they were, around a fire, sharing stories and meals. that would keep her going. it would have to be enough. her left ear twitched though as she heard a sound and she stopped -- wolf? an easy kill... maybe even useful right now. she could use the meat and the pelt on this long journey. but that would be too easy. of course. those were no steps of a WOLF. eyes snapped to the figure and narrowed -- at first, she thought it might be the seeker. she wouldn't stop hounding maethril -- questions about her religion, her faith, asking if she could be CERTAIN that she was no herald. she didn't care about the truth, only what might served her.

" -- solas." a tinge of surprise, a brow arched. she expected leliana or cullen, perhaps even varric. but she didn't think that solas cared if she stayed or left -- he didn't seem too interested in her company... or anyone's, really. she looked further, wondering now... "is soufei with you?" almost concern slipping into her voice. it was too cold out here for maethril herself, let alone a child. but her attention moved back to the man shortly after, curiosity still peeking its ugly head.

"i suppose i left too neat of a trail for you to follow, hm?"

[lehdenlaulu]

Okay, 40h in, some stray thoughts:

I keep going back and forth between 'oh it's not really that bad after all' and 'ugh why' basically. Every time there's actually a nice bit of writing etc. the frustration at some other aspect soon takes over.

I'm particularly not fond of the random faceless mook hordes that keep respawning in certain locations (seriously, DA2 was bad enough). Or the dumb pointless boss battles you have to do in order to unlock new areas in the Fade where your reward is... another boss battle. And more faceless mooks. And maybe some gear. And maybe more of Solas's tedious sob story if you're lucky. The ghost of the live co-op thing really keeps quite literally haunting the narrative.

Oh, and there's even a fucking gladiator arena. I'm guessing that was originally for PvP. And now it's just there just in case you didn't already get your fill of combat elsewhere. And wanted to ogle Isabela who now inexplicably wears only a bikini and thigh-high boots. Because apparently that's Rivaini cultural outfit now or something? Some pseudo-Aztec thing? Sure. Whatever.

Honestly, just imagine if they'd put as much time and effort into making sure the story is narratively sound and makes any kind of sense as a sequel to its predecessors as they did into crafting the combat system and the needlessly byzantine combat skill tree. *sigh*

I do really like the new exploration mechanics though. I like that I can strafe on narrow ledges and vault over fences and through windows and such. Not super fond that I can magically just use my absent companions' exploration abilities because of my mystical magical all-powerful MacGuffin, though. Guess some people really don't feel like changing their party composition ever. 🙄

And that's another thing. This game coddles the player way too much to the point of treating us like particularly dense toddlers. Not only are there tons of visual options that basically guide you by the hand and point out everything relevant (all of which I obviously immediately turned off) but the dialogue also will very unsubtly tell you what to do at every turn. Like... Taash, babe, we're both Lords of Fortune, I don't think I need to be told to check out if there's something behind the waterfall. And if someone is so new to RPGs to not know something that basic, they need to discover it for themselves, not have it spelled out to them. Honestly, I thought this game's age limit was 18, not 12.

Speaking of Taash and all things unsubtle... I feel like there was a way to introduce their struggle with gender identity in a less... anvilicious way. And maybe come up with some in-universe lore and terminology instead of just defaulting to modern real-world vocabulary. The codex entry in particular frankly felt like breaking the fourth wall and talking directly to the player. And I say this as someone whose own gender identity is pretty nebulous.

Frankly, I'm surprised someone hasn't already literally told Bellara she has ADHD. Yet. I'm guessing she and Taash are relatable to some players, but to me they feel... vaguely insulting, honestly, because it really is about as subtle as a brick in the face. I'm also getting the vibe they're both someone's self insert to some degree at least. Which isn't new for DA, but... yeah.

What else... Oh. Yeah. The less said about the main plot the better. Varric, this really is your worst book yet.

Speaking of Varric, it's pretty funny how he keeps telling Rook to please get some sleep. Sure, mate, would love to but a) all I get for a bed is apparently a bare divan in a room with a massive glowing aquarium b) every time I try to sleep some smarmy elf keeps mansplaining at me in my dreams. Which, you know, is something I shouldn't have in the first place as a dwarf. Maybe I should just start chugging coffee with Lucanis. (But honestly, only Taash and Davrin get to have actual beds, everyone else has to make do with cots, bedrolls, divans, and... an embalming slate??)

Oh, and I'll be really surprised if Varric survives this story. I mean, he's barely there in the first place and keeps talking like some ailing relative who secretly has consumption in a Victorian novel. I mean, his writer was laid off after all.

The pacing and structure of this game is extremely weird. The beginning was particularly rough, then it got better, but it's still a bit all over the place.

Oh, right. I'm fairly sure we were promised cool bard songs at some point. I haven't heard a single one yet. Unless that one street performer in Treviso strumming Enchanters counts, which I don't believe does. It was nice to hear it, though, as much as it was a bit contextually odd to choose that song in particular. Ah well, I guess Empress of Fire would have been even odder.

This is also the most forgettable Hans Zimmer soundtrack I have heard in my life. I can't think of a single theme or leitmotif off the top of my head, but the Inquisition theme on the other hand was instantly recognizable. I might say he's just new to writing video game soundtracks, but... dude's famous for his highly catchy, recognizable and evocative themes. Weird.

But hey! As much as I don't like the cartoony character models, the game is actually otherwise really pretty and has some really lovely visual designs in environments and architecture etc. It's also very stable and smooth for a brand-new game, I've only had one crash and two obvious bugs so far. That's always a big win for a studio. Too bad its actual problems are too baked in to be fixable with some patches.

Anyway, that's it for now. Lots of negativity, I know, but I actually do like playing this game for the most part. I just have to... not think of it as a Dragon Age, basically. Because for all the bells and whistles, or maybe because of them, it really doesn't feel like one. There are glimpses here and there of a great DA game it could have been, but unfortunately, the final result is a bit of a Frankenstein's monster of different and largely incompatible concepts hastily sewn together.

[moonpie016]

:] Oc time everyone. Pull up a chair or rug, because Oc dump is here. Or part 1. (Yes, part 1, depending on how much there is. I'm just very passionate about my children.)

(And whatever story they all have is still a brain thought rolled into blobs, basically scenes that have a small set-up. But not everything is there or has an answer to any questions that come. A work in progress.)

(CW for mentions of injury/scars, mostly involving eyes. A small section but yeah)

---

---

Cody | 21 | It/its |

Marcy | 19 | Any |

(I'm putting them together since they are always together and are important)

• These two half elf, half human peeps live in a small town mostly filled with humans. So they can't really go out much, Marcy does all the heavy lifting for the two to have a roof under their heads. While Cody, it can't or doesn't feel the need to try in that sort of thing. Mostly because it has difficulty doing anything of that nature.

--

•Marcy's full of whimsy and wonder, a happy go lucky bright nature of his. But not all the time, can be a bit heated by wrong doings. Like hostile activity and any harm that can come between her and her friends. But always tries to see everything with a grain of salt (however that works). Is not one to stand around and do nothing, but can be overwhelmed if something extreme happens, she freezes up. A bossy individual. Making sure everything gets done at a reasonable time. Came from a.... interesting background (which is still in development) so they're kind of naive with certain things, mostly people's intentions, not as much though compared to their sibling.

•Speaking of their sibling, Cody is somewhat of a silent type. Not really having the full jist of speaking to ANYONE but Marcy, but, it does have a book to write in. If not vocally, then written. It's more wary of the world and everything about how different the two of them are. Even the thought of being anywhere near people causes it to shake 'no' at any request to leave. But Marcy drags it out anyway. Cody's a bit stubborn, it doesn't take anything from anyone at all, mostly staring at whoever it finds.... unapproachable. Cautious if you will. Its eye is barely functioning (though I'd have to research fully how eyes are damaged, so ignore the inaccuracies.) Headphones are a must, the world is far too "exciting" for it. While Marcy adores it, Cody despises it, though, it finds the peace in calm sceneries. It may also appear unapproachable itself, how ironic. But it can be nice when comfortable.

--

•Bob [Bobby] | 20 | She/they |

•Amy | 23 | She/her |

Ok these last two are kinda small, so I'm also putting them together. Because while they are important, one of them is just more important than the other.

---

•Bob is just a girl enjoying the wackiness of it all, being friends with Marcy and Cody, she's more reserved than them. But still has her own characteristics. Amongst people, Bob is the most talkative out of any of them, always striking up a conversation out of the most random things. She's less care-free than their peers. Not as confrontational as anyone, and can take a while to actually step her ground. Even with their words, they try to be so polite and understanding while possibly after something went down. If you have a movie, Bob can happily sit and spout a bunch of unwanted facts about it (that they know of, of course.) She also has two others that she lives with (that are not mentioned here, in the future.) Just a girl in a strange way.

•Amy. Oh Amy, Amy, Amy... A girl from the more wealthy side of the town, finding the joy in the mundane and luxury. Thinks she's the queen of the world. When in reality, she's a closed hearted person, not taking a no for an answer. Nagging and belittling anything she claims as bad. And hating anything that is "not the norm".

---

Which is where her and the siblings come in, but that's for you to guess. I can't really explain her that well, but if you get the jist. Cool! :3

---

Ok it's another round of Moon gives her children a home. Again. I was sketching some Oc thing, but I'm gonna relax. So hope you enjoy these dudes. Their designs might alter or change a bit, because I'm still wondering if these designs on here work. Amy is great. But the other three, we'll see.

And I'll also get to researching about stuff cus fun. And accuracy to things is cool. When I have motivation for that.

Anyways! There will be more of these dudes, I have stuff I stuff I wanna do with them. And just...so much art of them from the past year. My goodness. But. :3

Enjoy!

---

[variousqueerthings]

1, 3, 13,29

who’s the Blorbo that you’ve never posted about on your blog?

OHOOOO okokokok, well the thing is I am a massive silmarillion/unfinished tales fan (tolkien) and within that I've got quite a few ultimate blorbos, but if I'm gonna go niche-ish this one will go to Míriel Þerindë (later spelled Serindë, although her son hates that)

I've got a whole buzzing that I've really never talked about online at all that she's the catalyst and narrator of the whole story, making choices that rock the foundations of the valar (gods) and becoming a handmaiden to the vala Vairë, where she commits to weaving the story of her grandchildren and the descendants of her former husband, which, in a story like this, the storytellers are powerful, but she's not really often talked about amongst them even though she's both the reason the story happens and the one who is emotionally closest to its events

+ she's weaving the story, not just telling it/singing it/writing it down. so cool!!! also, ofc, everyone is kinda cursed in this story, so the tragedy enjoyer within me is thinking about how she's got to in detail weave the Dooms of all of her grandchildren and great-grandchild, the general fall of the Noldor elves, and of course the destruction of Beleriand, her first home (marking the end of the first age of middle-earth -- she feels like the beginning and the end of the silmarillion, to me)

she's just kinda got it all goin for her. a stubbornnes that the literal gods can't do anything about. autism vibes. divorce. haunting the narrative. telling the narrative. whatever she and vaire have goin on. interesting depiction of post-partum depression. suicide and reincarnation. she's a weaver! she tried doing The Things A Good Woman Should (wife and mother) and she was no good at them. giving that incorrect-girl Vibe.

storytellers within stories. good stuff good stuff good stuff

was there any specific point / any specific moment that suddenly made this character your Blorbo, or did you slowly grow to love them more and more until they became a Blorbo to you?

I'd say the second. the immediate silmarillion blorbo for many people (myself included) tends to be Maedhros/Maitimo, because he's a giant elf who's tortured for many years until he's saved by his boyfriend and tries to reunite the Peoples under a common cause only for everything always to go wrong for him, even though he's like... pretty great at his job

his main flaw ofc is that he's cursed, but it was (like with his father and brothers) kind of his own fault + he's been in charge of several tragic killings himself. but yeah. characters in this narrative are all big fans of cursing themselves

BUT Miriel, i needed to think about the implications first. i liked her vibes, but ofc the thing about the silmarillion is that there can be a sparseness of + a treasure hunt for details. she's not the least drawn character by far, but the Epic Proportions of her part of the story (not just the part that affects her son, but her specifically) kinda snuck up on me. the idea of Witness as Strength kinda comes up a few times in the silmarillion, including the vala Nienna whose main traits are pity and mourning, and the more i traced the tale, the more it all centered around the choices that Miriel made

Then i started thinking of the lives of those left behind -- mainly women. Indis, Nerdanel, Findis, Miriel... the idea of eternal(ish) mourning. lots of thoughts...

is there any crime, any wrongdoing your Blorbo could commit that would make you stop loving them and remove them from your hyperfixation entirely?

Miriel defied the gods, she's kinda gone as far as you can in the story conventions itself... also there are two versions of her, one where she peaces out not long after her son is born, and one where she doesn't until he's an adult. i kinda vibe the most with the first, because i really think that post-partum depression part of it -- that sense of exhaustion -- is important to her decision. there's also something to me about her son's intense devotion to her memory if he potentially doesn't even really remember/know her

point being, from a certain view of characters in the story this woman abandoned her child -- i don't mean that as a condemnation, i mean within the text itself the other characters are Shocked, i tell you (but her son is forever loyal to her memory), so yeah, she's really double-whammied on in-universe crimes, but i think it's notable that the text itself is understanding (i feel)

but yeah, she could burn down the world, she'd be entitled. villain Miriel is kinda making me 👀👀👀👀 (is that just her son tho 😂)

(i do think, btw, in my heart and soul, the valar are kinda 🥰🥰 about Miriel, couldn't tell you exactly why, but... she's their specialist elf. she can defy them a bit. as a treat)

has a fanfic about your Blorbo ever made you cry?

Mmmmm not about Miriel no, but I've also not sought much out, idk why. it was a fanfic that put me on the autie!Miriel train of thought + the idea that Miriel never really wanted to leave Beleriand in the first place and this being part of the issue that cascades down the whole rest of the text... so certainly she could make me cry (and i've made myself cry thinking about her), because her whole narrative consists of trying to do what is expected of her and "failing" and then allowing herself to fail (in a way that feels very courageous to me -- again, she stands up to the gods rather than be brought back to life the first time!) then offering to document the destruction of her entire lineage...........

she's the eye of the storm! the one around which all the other tragedies move!

[tincansamurai]

oc monday!!!!!

i need this i'm feeling struck by madness

original post

1. What is [x]'s favourite colour?

mat: he likes bright CMY colors and jewel tones. magenta is his favorite favorite though

kaz: big fan of blues, even if he doesn't own or wear a lot of blue stuff. top blues: cobalt, aqua/cyan. then black

2. What is one bad memory [x] has of their parents?

mat: HAHA uhhh ok which one do i pick... let's go with a more standard bad one instead of the worst. it's the first month that he's started having for real panic attacks, he's around 14, freaking the fuck out and crying while his dad is taking the door to his room off its hinges so they can keep an eye on him and figure out why he's being like this. his mom is talking loudly to herself and asking why she can't have a normal good kid, why does she has to deal with all these extra dramatics, why can't he just listen to them?

kaz: let's pick one i haven't shared before; when he was 21 he got alcohol poisoning bad enough to land him in the hospital. he had to explain that bill to his mom, and she got incredibly upset because it kind of became clear in that moment that kaz had only gotten better about hiding his alcohol abuse from her, not actually better about drinking. she did get self pitying and apologize for failing him and being a terrible mother, which just dredged up his feelings of being a burden and mistake who fucked up her life. the whole experience was shameful enough that he stayed sober for like a month. but, well, y'know. (he also started smoking cigs WAY more during that month, like a pack a day - he didn't get any better about that for a few years)

3. Where does your character consider home? Is it actually where they live?

mat: thom

kaz: his apartment is home, but he has never really totally felt at home anywhere. everything feels kind of temporary. 

4. What would [x] be as a D&D character?

i took this quiz for each of them as a jumping off point

mat: mat got NG human paladin/wizard - nix the paladin, that means nothing to him. totally a wizard though. i think he'd also be a half elf. i think if he was playing d&d he'd pick a human or halfling rogue

kaz: kaz got CG human paladin/bard - paladin could actually work for him as like a political kinda thing. god he really is the horny bard everyone hates to play with though lmao. 100% a human. i think if he was playing he would pick a half-orc barbarian or a gnome tinkering type class

5. How does [x] feel about recreational drugs? Do they have opinions about any specific ones?

mat: drugs are cool. he smokes weed almost every day. he did some other drugs in college. list: LSD (cool but only once, trip is too long), DMT (didn't do it right the first time, hated the second time), shrooms (coupla times, would do shrooms again if offered to him but not actively seeking them out), MDMA (too good, only once), adderall (eugh). he buys test kits to make sure he's gotten what he paid for without any fuckin bath salts or fent mixed in. he was 100% using tor to buy shit off onion sites before that became way more risky and inadvisable

kaz: mostly ambivalent. alcohol gets the job done. weed makes him weird and morbid and anxious. he did coke once and it tasted too bad and he got scared. have fun though, he doesn't judge

6. Where did [x] go to school as a teenager or young adult? Or if fixed schools are not the norm for that age, in their culture, what sort of apprenticeship or secondary education did they receive?

i swear we had this one before. oh yeah we did. here number 5

7. What kind of villain would [x] make?

mat: just normal mat, he would be such a shitty villain lol. watch out it's the guy who is scared. if i put him in some kinda au situation hmm i think he'd be a real sarcastic/catty rich vampire who just oozes homosexuality and could be conviced to be less villainous if you appealed to his ego the right way. get him a black and red silk robe, gilded crystal wine glasses, and a transatlantic accent NOW. long cigarette holder. hold on i need to draw soemthing i might hauve covid

kaz: he is easily every marvel CIA propoganda movie's insurrectionist commie villain lmao. killmonger type shit where you're like "uh he's right though" and they have to make him do stupid shit to make him seem like the bad guy. alternatively: some kind of incredibly horny mad max post-apoc bdsm slut who doesn't make it to the end and dies kind of happy about it