#but we can only be free if we accept that the only thing we can control is our own choices

[inseobts]

Terminal pt.2

law × reader

part 1

you fall ill with a rare, incurable disease and law refuses to accept it.

a/n: since many asked for it, here we are eheh sorry in advance

words count: 3.3k

tags: terminal illness, soft, angst, worried and protective law

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The sea is calm.

Too calm. The kind that presses against your chest, thick and heavy, like the quiet after something breaks. The Polar Tang glides through the water in near silence, the steady hum of the engine the only thing that proves the world is still moving forward.

Law stands by the observation window, arms crossed, coat hanging loose from his shoulders. Salt crusts the hem. He doesn’t bother brushing it off. His gaze drifts somewhere beyond the horizon, past the steel, past the sea, to a place only he knows.

Behind him, the ship breathes softly. Footsteps echo down the hallway in quiet rhythm. No one speaks unless they have to. Shachi and Penguin pass by with low murmurs, Bepo following a few steps behind, carrying a tray in his paws. He hesitates outside the medbay, like he wants to say something, then thinks better of it.

They all do.

No one talks about what happened a few weeks ago.

Not in front of him.

Law’s fingers twitch at his side, a phantom memory of holding something he can’t replace. A cup passed hand to hand. Your laugh in the early mornings. The way you always leaned in too close when reading over his shoulder.

The infirmary door stays closed.

Law doesn’t open it.

Not yet.

He turns away from the window and walks the length of the hallway with slow, measured steps. Everything about him is precise, controlled. As always. But his shoulders sit lower than usual, and his steps drag just slightly, like he’s carrying something no one else can see.

In the silence, it’s easy to assume the worst. And no one corrects the assumption.

The door clicks shut behind him.

Law steps into the infirmary without a word, the tray Bepo left earlier balanced in one hand. A bowl of soup and a cup of tea.

The room smells like antiseptic and citrus peels. The light’s soft, diffused by the overhead panels. There’s a soft rustle of sheets, the quiet flick of a page turning.

You’re sitting up in the bed, legs tucked under the blanket, a book in your hands.

You glance up at him “You’re late.”

Law exhales slowly through his nose. Not a laugh but close. He sets the tray down on the rolling table and drags it over to you.

“You complain more now that you’ve survived” he mutters.

You smirk, folding the corner of the page before closing the book “Yeah, well. Dying didn’t work out for me.”

He doesn���t respond right away. Just looks at you. Not clinically. Not assessing. Just looking. Your color’s better. You’re holding the book steady again. The dark circles beneath your eyes have faded.

“You should rest.”

“Look at yourself, you're the one who needs some rest.”

He pulls up the stool beside your bed anyway, the edge of his coat brushing your blanket. His hand rests on the rail, inches from yours. Neither of you moves to close the gap.

“So… aren’t you going to check up my blood pressure etc. today?” You say rolling up your sleeve “oh my Doctor please save me”

He sighs and put his hand over your pulse “Everything seems fine.”

You smile at his seriousness. You can see he’s tired. His eyes dark.

And so you move to make space on the bed, patting at the free space next to you “Cuddle time?”

Law’s gaze flickers down to the space beside you, where you pat the blankets, clearly teasing, but there’s a subtle softness behind the playful gesture. His tired eyes meet yours for a long moment. He doesn’t move, his hand still hovering near the rail.

A silence stretches between you two. Not uncomfortable, just the kind where words don’t seem necessary anymore.

Then, with a quiet sigh, he lowers himself down onto the edge of the bed, sitting carefully as if afraid to disturb the fragile bubble of peace you’ve created. The worn fabric of his coat brushes against your side. For a moment, neither of you says anything.

You make a small, quiet sound in your throat, something between relief and frustration, before nudging your head toward the pillows “Come on. I’m not gonna bite.”

He gives you a long, unreadable look before shifting, adjusting his position until he’s lying beside you, his back stiff, but his proximity enough that the warmth from his body makes the room feel a little more bearable.

You’re still not sure if you’re comforting him or if he’s comforting you. Maybe it’s both. You feel it in the way he shifts just enough to make space, but doesn’t pull away.

His hand rests lightly on your side, the fingers brushing against your ribs. You can feel the tension in his touch, like he’s afraid to hold you too close. He’s been afraid of a lot of things lately.

But you’re not going anywhere. Not this time.

You turn your head slightly to look at him. His jaw is tight, eyes closed, but his brow still furrows, like he’s thinking about a hundred things at once. His chest rises and falls in that slow, almost exhausted rhythm. You wish you could read his mind, but you can never seem to get through that wall he’s built around himself.

“I’m not dead, you know?” you murmur, your voice almost too quiet, just a breath between you.

“I know” Law answers, his voice soft but thick with something deeper, something that lingers in the space between his words.

You smile faintly, feeling the pulse of warmth that fills the space where he lies next to you. There’s no pressure, no hurry. Just this… moment of stillness. It’s enough for now.

For a while, neither of you speak. The steady rhythm of his breathing feels like all that matters. Like the rest of the world has faded away for a while, leaving just the two of you here.

Eventually, you shift your body just slightly, turning toward him, sliding closer until your forehead rests gently against his shoulder. His body tenses, but only for a moment before it relaxes into you.

His hand moves from your side, sliding over to your back, his fingers gently tracing the outline of your spine, like he’s checking, testing if you’re really here. You let out a breath, the tension from before starting to dissipate as you allow yourself to sink into him fully.

“You’re not alone” you whisper.

Law’s hand stills for a moment, his breath catching slightly. His voice is barely a murmur, but you catch it all the same “I know.”

And for once, he sounds like he means it.

You close your eyes, letting the quiet fill the space around you. In this small room, in the stillness of the night, there’s no need for words anymore. Just the feeling of his presence, his warmth, the steady beat of his heart beside yours, and the knowledge that even though the world keeps moving forward, you’re still here.

It’s quiet after they leave.

Too quiet, almost.

You lie there, tucked into the bed that’s become both sanctuary and prison, staring at the ceiling with the book still unopened in your lap. The infirmary hums gently with the soft whir of monitors you no longer need, the faint buzz of overhead lights, and the memory of Law’s last touch as he’d adjusted your blanket before heading out.

Just a scouting mission. A new island, routine checks. Nothing risky.

But he still hesitated at the door, eyes lingering on you longer than necessary. Not saying goodbye, just that silent, heavy kind of be careful he never actually voices.

Now he’s gone. The crew’s gone too. And only Bepo remains.

He sits on a stool near the corner of the room, reading a book upside-down without realizing it. His ears twitch every few seconds, his eyes flicking toward you as if you might spontaneously combust if he looks away too long.

You shift under the blanket, then sit up slowly.

Bepo straightens immediately “You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You should stay in bed.”

“I’ve been in bed.”

You push the blanket off your legs and plant your feet on the floor. You’re still in your soft pajamas, sweatpants and a loose shirt, not exactly mission attire, but it’ll do. Your legs ache just a little as you stand, muscles stiff but not weak.

Bepo stands too “You really shouldn’t—”

“Bepo,” you interrupt gently, meeting his eyes “I’m okay.”

He hesitates “Captain said—”

“I know what he said. And I know what I feel. I can walk. I want to walk. I need to.”

You don’t raise your voice. You don’t have to. Bepo’s ears droop a little, but he nods.

“Okay. But I’m staying right next to you.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Your steps are slow at first, cautious. The hallway feels longer than you remember, the air cool against your skin. But every step forward steadies you. The Polar Tang is quiet, the hum of the engine a steady companion beneath your feet.

You pass the mess hall. The lounge. A few doors you haven’t seen in days.

The first person you run into is Ikkaku.

She rounds the corner holding a stack of towels, clearly not expecting anyone, and nearly drops them when she sees you.

“Holy—! You’re—!”

You lift a hand in a small wave “Hey.”

Her eyes widen further “You’re standing?!”

“Yeah,” you say, smiling, breath just slightly short from the walk “Figured I’d stretch my legs.”

She recovers quickly, enough to set the towels down on a nearby bench and grin “They’re gonna lose their minds.”

You just nod, trying not to let the burn in your chest turn into a cough.

Bepo hovers close, watching you like a worried parent.

By the time the crew returns, the Polar Tang’s upper deck is bathed in golden light from the late afternoon sun. You wait by the rail, arms resting on the metal, Bepo beside you. The salty breeze stings your nose, but it feels good... alive.

The first to spot you is Penguin. He freezes halfway up the ramp, eyes wide.

“What the—?” he blurts “Is that—?!”

Law steps up behind him, expression unreadable as always, until he sees you.

And then, for just a moment, his face changes.

He doesn’t run. Doesn’t call out. But something in him flickers. His steps quicken.

You straighten your spine, meeting his eyes with a steady look of your own.

“Hey, Captain” you say, voice clear.

His coat flutters behind him as he stops in front of you. No one breathes.

He looks at you. Really looks.

“You’re standing.”

You nod “Told you dying didn’t work out for me.”

Law exhales, slowly, and then, finally, he steps forward and pulls you into his arms.

Dinner on the Polar Tang hasn’t felt like this in a while.

The long table is full again, crowded with trays of food, clinking dishes, and overlapping conversations. Shachi’s cracking jokes no one asked for. Ikkaku and Clione are arguing about who’s on cleaning duty. Even Bepo’s talking more, ears perked and tail gently swishing behind him. Someone’s music plays low in the background, barely audible over the sounds of laughter and the scrape of chairs.

You sit at the end of the table, tucked between Bepo and Law, legs stretched out, sipping from your cup like you’ve never been anywhere else.

No one says it out loud, but the difference is obvious.

They all glance at you more often than usual. Smiling easier. Talking louder. Like your presence re-lit something they didn’t know they were missing. Like they were holding their breath and only now remembered how to let it go.

Law notices it, of course. He always does.

He sits quiet, as usual, elbows on the table, one hand wrapped around a mug. He doesn’t say much, but he watches. Watches the way the crew leans toward you when you talk. The way the energy in the room has shifted into something brighter. Lighter.

He doesn’t say anything.

But he doesn’t need to. He’s just… glad.

You, on the other hand, don’t waste a second.

“Hey, Captain,” you call, leaning over just enough to bump your shoulder against his “You’re not gonna tell everyone how you cuddled me the other night?”

The table goes silent.

Law doesn’t move.

You flash a grin, teeth and mischief “No? Should I? You were very warm and soft. Surprisingly clingy for someone who says they hate physical contact.”

“Y/N.”

Your name is a warning. Sharp and low.

You take another sip “Oh, come on. It’s not like you were purring or anything.”

Penguin chokes on his drink. Shachi actually drops his chopsticks.

Bepo blinks “Captain can purr?”

“No” Law growls, turning his head just enough to glare at you. His ears are faintly red.

You shrug “Could’ve fooled me.”

Ikkaku covers her mouth to stifle a laugh. Clione just whispers something under his breath and shakes his head, clearly enjoying the show.

Law sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose like he regrets every life decision that led to this exact moment.

You lean closer and lower your voice, not enough to be subtle, just enough to be dangerous “Don’t worry. I’ll keep the neck kisses a secret.”

The clang of Law’s chair scraping back is immediate. He stands without a word and walks to the other side of the room like a man trying to escape his own body.

You grin like a cat who’s won the game.

“Do you think he’s blushing?” Penguin whispers.

“Oh, absolutely” you say, taking another bite of your food.

Behind you, Law exhales sharply and mutters something under his breath. But he doesn’t leave. And that’s how you know he’s not really mad.

“You kissed their neck?” Shachi asks, eyes wide in mock horror “Captain, you dog.”

“I didn’t” Law snaps, sitting back down with a thud and stabbing his food like it insulted his entire bloodline.

“Oh, so it was more of a nuzzle situation?” Penguin grins.

Law doesn’t answer. Which is its own kind of answer.

You hide your smile behind your cup. Barely.

“Damn,” Ikkaku says, nudging her elbow into Clione’s ribs “I was convinced our captain was emotionally constipated, but look at him go.”

“Should we be taking bets on who’ll propose first?” Clione asks.

“Please don’t” Law says flatly.

“Too late” Bepo murmurs, scribbling something into a tiny notepad he definitely didn’t just pull out for the first time.

You snort so hard it turns into a cough. Law is already halfway up before anyone else even moves.

“Alright. That’s enough,” he says, tone shifting with just enough authority that the laughter starts to die down. His hand lands gently on your shoulder “You need to lie down.”

“I’m fine...” you lie, coughing once more, which makes your chest ache “It’s just a little—”

“You’re done for the night.” His voice is soft, but final.

No one argues.

Not even you.

He helps you up without a word, steady hand at your back as he guides you out of the room. The moment the door slides shut behind you both, the laughter fades into muffled noise and the hallway settles into stillness.

Your steps are slower now. It’s not that you’re weak, it’s just been a long day, and your body’s still catching up with the living.

Law doesn’t rush you. Just walks beside you in silence, the distance between you closed by the quiet comfort of presence alone.

When you reach your room, you pause in the doorway and glance up at him.

“You’re staying, right?”

He doesn’t answer. Just follows you in.

The room is dim, the overhead lights replaced by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. You slip under the blanket while Law sets the folded hoodie you’d been wearing onto a nearby chair. He moves with practiced precision, checking the monitor out of habit, even though you’re no longer hooked up to it.

He doesn’t sit in the chair. He sits beside you.

You turn on your side to face him, cheek pressed against the pillow “So. Neck kisses, huh?”

He exhales slowly through his nose “You’re impossible.”

You grin “And yet, you stayed.”

His gaze softens. The faintest ghost of a smile pulls at the corner of his lips “Of course I stayed.”

You reach out, brushing your fingers lightly against his wrist. He doesn’t pull away. If anything, he shifts closer.

For a moment, you just look at each other.

No teasing. No jokes. Just the quiet that comes when two people who’ve been through hell finally find a bit of peace.

“Law?”

“Hm?”

You close your eyes, letting the exhaustion take you “Thanks for not giving up on me.”

His fingers brush gently through your hair, voice barely a whisper “Never.”

"I was really scared to leave you"

"I know, I was scared too."

And in the hush of your room, with his hand warm against your skin and the ache of your body slowly fading into the mattress, you finally let yourself rest.

He stays beside you the whole night.

Just like he always will.

The night is deep and still, the ship humming gently beneath you like a lullaby.

You stir a little in your sleep, enough to shift the blanket, enough to feel the brush of Law’s sleeve against your arm. You don’t open your eyes. You don’t need to.

You know he’s awake.

He’s always awake.

He sits at the edge of the bed, one leg tucked up loosely, the other foot flat on the floor. The lamplight’s long gone. Only the dim green of a monitor in the corner casts a faint glow across the room. It pools over his face in soft shadows, under his eyes, his jaw, the tattooed line of his throat.

You don’t speak. Not right away.

Neither does he.

But eventually, when the silence grows too full, he does something rare.

He talks first.

“I thought I was going to lose you.”

His voice is so quiet, you’re not sure he meant to say it aloud.

But you hear it. And you stay still.

“I tried everything,” he says, almost more to himself than to you “Recalculated every dose. Ran every blood test twice. I made Penguin check my math just to be sure I wasn’t—” He cuts off, jaw tight “There was a point where I couldn’t look at you without thinking, what if this is the last time?”

You turn your head slowly, your eyes adjusting in the dark until you can see the outline of him, shoulders tense, fists curled lightly in his lap. Still holding on. Even now.

“I’m still here” you whisper.

“I know.” He exhales like he’s trying to let that truth finally settle “But it doesn’t change the fact that I almost wasn’t enough.”

You push yourself up on one elbow, enough to reach for him. Your fingers skim over his hand, and this time, he doesn’t hesitate. His hand turns, palm meeting yours.

“You were the only reason I made it,” you say “You were enough. You are.”

He closes his eyes. Breathes.

You think maybe he’ll let that be the end of it. But then “I didn’t just think about losing you,” he murmurs “I thought about how I never told you what you really are to me.”

Your pulse stutters.

“You make this place... this crew, me... feel like more than just survival. Like we’re allowed to have something more than war and running. Like we’re allowed to be...” He pauses but then, quietly “...happy.”

You blink, your throat tightening “Law…”

His hand squeezes yours. Just once “You don’t have to say anything.”

You smile softly, leaning forward until your forehead rests against his shoulder, and his arm slips around you without thinking.

“But I will” you whisper.

You tilt your face up just enough to press a kiss to his jaw gentle, grounding.

“I love you, Trafalgar.”

He doesn’t answer right away.

But the way his fingers curve tighter around your waist, the way he pulls you against him like he’s afraid you’ll vanish, and that says enough.

Eventually, in the hush of the cabin, he answers you.

“I love you too.”

And it’s the easiest thing he’s ever said.

[mandiemegatron]

Law x g/n Reader. Sad with comfort. Acceptable for all ages. MDNI with any works labeled 18+. Not beta read.

"I don't think I can do this anymore."

Law looks up from his own paperwork to stare you down, a curious and slightly worried look in his eyes as he slowly asks,

"Is the work confusing or are you-"

"I mean, in general. Doing.... this."

The way you wave your arm around the entire room and towards him in an almost nonchalant manner makes him sit back in his chair, loosely crossing his arms as he tries again,

"Elaborate. What are you finding difficult?"

You frown at him, trying to fight back the scalding tears that prickle the corners of your eyes as you bite out, "Everything. This, us, you, me, the ship, the crew, the world - I am overwhelmed and annoyed, and I want the world to stop turning for thirty seconds."

Law hums under his breath in agreement, knowing exactly where you were coming from. It takes him a minute, but as you wipe at your eyes, he finally replies,

"Remember what you told me, when I had that little mental break a few months ago?"

You sniffled slightly with a nod, "Yeah I do, why?"

Law continues, "Everything that happens has a reason. Every action demands a reaction, and it's on you to determine what reaction you're going to give. We are not perfect creatures, we exist to learn and experience new things every day, and it's not our fault when things get overwhelming. Sometimes life throws us more than we're capable of handling on our own."

Law uncrosses his arms and reaches over to you, gently pulling you in your wheeled chair closer to him so he could hold your face in his slightly sweaty palms, continuing a little softer, "That's why we have connections, why we bring people we trust into our lives so they can help carry the burden. You tell me so often that I have to rely on the people around me, but why are you sitting here not taking your own advice?"

Tears finally spill over, wetting Law's thumbs as they caress over your cheekbones and under your eyes gently, wiping away a few streaks. "I wish I could Shambles the sadness out of you and give it to a Marine Admiral, but the best I can do is remind you that you are home, you are safe and you are loved."

He presses his forehead against yours, letting the tip of his nose rub against yours before he gives you a few soft kisses. Pride and adoration swell in his chest at the small smile you give against his lips.

When he pulls away, one of his hands leaves your face to pick up your left hand from your lap, his thumb grazing over the thin, beautiful ring on your finger, matching the one on his own left hand. "You're stuck with me, remember? We go through everything together from now on."

A genuine smile washes over you at his words and you nod again, pressing a few more kisses to his lips as your fingers intertwined with his. "I love you," you murmur against his lips, to which he squeezes your hand gently. He watches with half lidded eyes as you pull back, immediately bringing the back of your ringed hand to his lips to hum against your skin, "I love you, always."

After a few moments, Law brings your intertwined hands to his lap, and he asks, "Shall we take an impromptu nap? I think we both need one."

You hide a yawn behind your free forearm with a slight nod, now exhausted from the sudden emotional rollercoaster. "Yes, please."

Law gave the hint of a smile, and before you could blink, you were both Shambled away, leaving only scattered papers across the desk.

DO NOT PLAGIARIZE, STEAL, REPOST OR RUN MY WORKS THROUGH AI.

ALL FANWORKS/FANFICS WRITTEN BY THIS BLOG ARE OWNED BY MANDIEMEGATRON.

[acourtofthought]

Do you know what they’re saying about their belief that Elain is being forced to be with Lucien and that’s why her story will center on choice to not be with him? It makes no sense to me especially since we’ve seen that Feysand and Nessian in a way, had even less control over their feelings for each other because they didn’t know fate was involved. Elain and Lucien have known about their bond from the very beginning meaning MORE choice. What makes them think Elain has less choice than Feyre or Nesta? What’s their reasoning for hating the Elucien bond, when compared to Feyre and Nesta Elain doesn’t even hate her mate? Feyre and Nesta clearly did hate or at least borderline hated theirs at first.

So when Nesta, word for word said, "I don't know what I want. I didn't have a choice" and when Cassian responded, "Well, I didn't have a choice in being shackled to you, either" they somehow got the impression other pairings had more choice than Elain and Lucien?

The fact is none of them got to choose who their mate was. Not Rhys, not Feyre, not Lucien or Elain. Had Lucien been able to choose he probably would have chosen Jesminda way back when. For Elain it would have been Graysen. Had Rhys gotten to choose my guess is he would have never gone searching in the human lands for his possible mate. For Az? Mor, hands down. Feyre would have wanted Tamlin to be hers in ACOWAR and the start of ACOMAF.

Where is the outrage over lack of support for those pairings? Elain desperately wanted to return to Graysen but I don't think a single person in this fandom was hopeful for their reunion.

The LoA chose to stay with Beron, does that mean we should respect that for her character or are we still allowed to hope that she finds a way to break free from him?

I think Sarah has demonstrated through her writing that "choice" is trash unless it's accompanied by other important factors.

The other sides fixation on choice and choice alone reads a bit like "But Daddy I Love Him." Sure, someone can choose to be with whoever they want but when he turns out to be a lying, cheating, deadbeat who leaves you alone and pregnant at 16 years old you start to realize that maybe there is more to dating than freedom to choose.

I'm not religious (and I know Sarah is Jewish) but Sarah's message seems more "Jesus, Take the Wheel." Where you realize there are times when you have to accept there being forces at work that know a bit more than us. Where even a 500 something year old fae (and especially not a 20 something year old human who doesn't fully understand magic) is still not as wise and all knowing as the creator of all. No, someone doesn't have to like the Fated Mates trope and they can choose not to read it but you can't act like Sarah J Maas feels the same. To her, it is a beautiful thing, to have Fate know better and though her FMCs initially push against their mates in an act of rebellion, after healing and growth they finally see why that person was made in the likeness of the other half of their soul.

"But Sarah wrote some bonds aren't matched!" Yeah, for characters we could not give a shit about. Sorry but does anyone really care that Rhys's dad and mom were a poor fit? They gave us Rhys, right? Nobody is about to wish away his creation which led to his meeting Feyre which led to us reading about all our favorites just because some want to take up the crusade about choice but only for one particular pairing.

As the author, it's as simple as putting pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) for Elain and Lucien to choose each other in the next book (or the one after). They conveniently forget how Sarah also said, "is it choice? Is it fate? Or is it both?" Feysands romance is wildly celebrated and that romance was clearly "both" since Rhys knew about his bond with Feyre early on and she said her heart knew he belonged to her even before she realized it so why would she want any of her other main characters to have something less than that? Why, when Feysand, Quinlar, Rowealin, and Nessian had Fate and Choice at work in their relationships, wouldn't she want that for Elain / Lucien, Az and possibly Gwyn?

And you're right, Elain and Lucien knowing about their bond gives them more choice than either Feyre or Nesta. All Feyre and Nesta had was the illusion of choice but it was only ever that, an illusion, because they felt drawn to Rhys and Cassian from the start but didn't understand why and falling in love with them was never actually organic because it was the bond tugging them to one another the whole time. At least Elain and Lucien have had the time as individuals to keep their distance and sort through the different emotions they're experiencing, "is this me or is this the bond?" in a way that the other pairings never did.

She's not going to give any of her pairings less than what her other couples have. The only difference is in the angst and tension they experience along the way. For Feysand, it was Rhys who knew about their bond first. For Nessian, they both suspected from the start but didn't really know for sure until they fell in love. For Rowealin, she knew first. For Quinlar, it was something they realized simultaneously after becoming friends then falling in love. And for Elucien, it was something that happened when they were complete strangers locking eyes for the first time.

Choice means nothing when it's clear the FMCs "choice" would be one that holds her back from reaching her full potential and that's exactly what Elain choosing Az would be.

[thewitchblue]

"Jason, lovely?"

You called out. You had been looking for him for half an hour in the manor. He was a recent edition to the family, and he has been hidden himself away like a frightened animal. You were beginning to think he doesn't like you. He only showed up for patrol as Robin then hid away again. You didn't even know where he slept because he changed locations every night.

You really were defeated. You wanted to bond with him and show him the love he deserves, but he's nowhere. You wanted to cry, and you almost did, but Alfred pat your shoulder and told you to keep your head up. He would come to you, not the other way around.

You still sat down heavily with a frown. You didn't understand why he's avoiding you. Does he hate you? Does he resent you for taking him in? What did you do for him to hate you? You thought you had been welcoming when Bruce brought him home. Why is Jason so scared of you?

"I don't understand why he's avoiding me, Alfred. What did I do wrong?"

You knew Alfred didn't know either, but you needed to voice your sorrow. You were so saddened and defeated. All you wanted to do was bond with the little one, but he didn't seem to want to. He even cooks his own meals just to avoid the family.

Alfred walked up to you and softly said,

"You did nothing wrong, my dear. Master Jason will come to you in time, just as Master Bruce had to come to me after his parents' death."

You started to cry but waved off Alfred's comforting hand. You got up and walked away with a heavy heart and tear-filled eyes. You just want your baby to love you and accept you.

Little Jason watched from behind the corner, frozen in place. He thought he was doing the right thing by avoiding you both. He's only ever known adults who wanted to be left alone. He thought it was normal to stay out of the way to avoid dangerous situations with adults. He's learned noisy kids get tossed away, but does hiding do equal damage? Where is the median for you? How does he make you three happy? Jason didn't know what to do, but the more tears you shed, the worse he felt. He did this, but how does he fix it?

He hesitated before slowly approaching you. He truly did care about you. You are warm and loving despite knowing very little about him as a person. You took him in and loved him so easily. He didn't know what to do. Does he hug you? Does he talk to you? What won't get him thrown out? He doesn't want to anger you. He awkwardly shifted in place, uncertain and anxious.

You noticed him, but you were equally lost. Would he run away if you hugged him? You wanted to love him the way he deserves to be loved. You asked softly,

"Jason, sweet pea?"

Jason slowly nodded, as if he needed to confirm his identity or confirm he's real. You almost sobbed when you managed to coax him into a hug.

"Jason, my lovely, never hide from me."

You kissed the top of his head. You held him like he was going to disappear into thin air. He was overwhelmed by the love, but it was a good overwhelm. He felt warm and safe for the first time. Is this what a parent is supposed to be like?

You loved Jason so easily and openly. He was such a kind kid. You both grew incredibly close after that day.

The library was a safespace where Jason was free and comfortable to do anything, and you often spent time with him in the library as a result. Every time he needed an honest conversation with you, he asked,

"Can we speak in the library?"

That was that. You always obliged when he asked. Who can say no to tiny Jason? You couldn't resist his beautiful eyes and his hopeful expression.

He asked for the library talks even after his revival. He even shot Bruce in the abdomen for interrupting his library time (he claims by accident, but you knew better). He never apologised to Bruce or even to Alfred, who had to attend to the wound. In fact, he actually used the shooting as a distraction and left the manor. He talked to you after patrol and gave you some homemade cookies he made to make up for it. He didn't say anything, and neither did you, but he knew you weren't mad when you offered him a hug and ruffled his hair affectionately. He may be a giant now, but he's still your baby boy, and even Jason can admit you were babying.

He loves you, and he has shot many people that were in his way to your side. He was indiscriminate who he shot. Family and friends have long learned to avoid the library when Jason is suspected to be home. You say suspected because he can get in and out of the manor without ever being seen.

"Jason, lovely?"

You called out when you thought you noticed his shadow. He's built like your husband, so you can't be sure it's Jason from the glimpse you saw.

"It's me, ma."

He confirmed as he guided you to the library. His rough hand held yours gently as you both walked together. He's always loved holding your hand when he was nervous, and that seemed to persist into adulthood. You smiled warmly at him. You asked,

"To the library, lovely?"

He nodded and lightly squeezed your hand. His gaze never stopped scanning the area, as if his eyes were looking for any threats, aka snooping siblings. He needed to tell you something important or embarrassing and needed only you to hear about it.

When you do arrive at the library, he brings you to your usual spot next to all of the young adult books you bought for him through the years. You smiled and sat down at the familiar armchair while Jason stood awkwardly in front of you. He used to sit on your lap when he was younger and giggle when you showered him with kisses, but now he sits in the closest chair available or sometimes on the ground so you can run your fingers through his hair in a soothing motion.

"I'm seeing someone."

He managed to blurt out before quickly looking away from you. He was flustered and blushing, but he wasn't really ashamed. He was embarrassed. It was such a simple thing to say, but he couldn't help his flushed face.

"When do I get to meet this 'someone,' lovely?"

Jason nervously cracked his knuckles. He wants you to meet two-on-one, not the whole family. Your opinion matters the most out of everybody in the family.

"Does Saturday work?"

You took his hand in yours and lightly squeezed it with a warm smile. You said softly,

"Any time, lovely."

Jason breathed a slow sigh of relief. Hurdle one covered. He looked at your conjoined hands as he asked nervously,

"Can you keep this between us? We want to meet only you."

You smirked. With a mischievous gleam in your eyes, you said,

"It's library time. Nobody hears anything outside."

Jason smirked back at you. Oh, he loves you dearly. You offered him a hug, which he gladly accepted.

You held him like you always did, but the hug felt different now. It felt like a proud mother accepting the baby bird to fly and make a life for himself. Your arms promised love and security no matter what happens.

[rhode-island-empire]

Imo based on my personal experience, rather than actually helping you understand things they just teach you memorization. Granted my example is my ninth grade biology class. That class was absolute chaos. So our teacher kind of gave up and let us roam free and just posted the textbook pages each day while he did his thing.

Our tests were pulled directly from the textbook and asked about a bunch of random things that ain't gonna help us at all. Like seriously who CARES about the title of the diagram on page 256 of Campell's Biology 11th Edition? (Yes we used outdated textbooks too.) So I asked the teacher why we couldn't do anything interesting in class and he said he's just following the curriculum and the state standards which were all outlined in a document left for him and that I shouldn't argue with it because there's nothing he can do aboudit.

This was just a regular class. Our school has like 30,000 different APs (college-level courses) you can take. Rather than exploring their interests, everyone took all 30,000 of them because everyone else was doing it and the school culture sucks. Then there were the "normal" kids who took mostly regular classes but also had room in their schedules for cool things like game design, psychology, marine science, etc. All the AP students looked down on them because they weren't taking 30,000 APs.

And in return for sacrificing half your life for all 30,000 of them, you got a slightly higher chance of getting accepted into some Ivy school. So in other words it's kinda all for nothing because colleges only accept a few kids from each school and if everyone takes the same classes they'll all look the same. Everyone wanted to be either doctors, lawyers, or engineers because they make a lot of money.

And of course the game design/psychology/marine science kids were rejected from [insert Ivy here] because "look I know you're really passionate about this one field but your SAT scores aren't good enough and you only took 5 APs."

Anyways idk how to end this I think I've gotten too rambly and tangential because half of this doesn't make any sense but I guess I'll just say that just like the previous reblog, everyone is scared of being absent because you can get detention for continuous absences and it's not easy to catch up. So all the sick kids showed up and now everyone has the flu. What fun.

So there's a post going around that I'm not going to engage with because my point is entirely different than what the discussion is covering there...

It's this thread: https://www.tumblr.com/galileosballs/783607164314976256/some-of-the-responses-to-this-have-been-in

(I will not be weighing in on that thread)

Here's the thing about schooling and Kids These Days from the elementary to the college level using generative AI (which is Bad for many reasons; I am not defending it):

School (for the purposes of this discussion, public school in the US because that's the only kind of schooling I personally have extensive experience with) is not designed to promote learning.

Lamentations about the ethics of the students who do this, about how this is devaluating education, about how it's frightening that future doctors etc are cheesing their way through medical school with AI all have their eyes on a particular symptom of a much, much bigger and deeper problem. That problem is ULTIMATELY capitalism, but on the way there it's about pedagogy.

I, from the perspective of not having been beholden to school for many years, can confidently say that I did not learn a single fucking thing in school between fourth grade (age 9; I learned how to do long division) and college (age 18, learned a lot of different things, absolutely none of them particularly relevant to any paid work I've ever had). School was a six to eight hour time sink (plus however long homework took) in my day that actively got in the way of me learning things WHILE piling a bunch of stress and trauma onto me that I had to spend years recovering from.

School, in the US, is designed from the ground up to train children into compliant workers. It's about showing up on time, being willing to follow arbitrary and often unfair rules, doing as one is told by figures of authority, and giving the desired answers to direct questions (while asking as few clarifying questions as possible). Curiosity and creativity are actively punished by public school.

"Does saying things that are true and that you know are true only matter when someone is giving you a little prize for it?" Literally yes, that his how the system is built. Under capitalism, there is no motivation to say true things that are true that you know are true. It is likely, in fact, to get you punished! If you want to change that behavior, YOU HAVE TO CHANGE THE SYSTEM THAT PRODUCES IT.

This quote, in particular, seems to miss the point hugely:

"Some of the responses to this have been, in essence, "well, it's not our fault for being raised in a bad educational system that prioritizes grades over comprehension". And you're right, it's not your fault.

But you freely admit the system is bad. That it values the wrong things.

So why do you limit yourself to only achieving what it values? Do you not aspire to be better than a system you know is wrong? Don't you want to change the world?" with a post script of "the system is bad and that fact absolves me of moral responsibility to be a good person” is CEO rhetoric frankly"

It should be noted that absolutely no one in the thread has espoused a belief that 'hat fact absolves me of moral responsibility' - they are all talking about ways that the system is rotten from the ground up and needs to be dismantled and rebuilt. Many, many people reblogging the chain are ascribing malice/excuse-making to people who are merely correctly identifying the problem. Explanations are not excuses; sorry that someone taught you that at some point.

No one in that thread has said "I use AI, and think that it's a good and laudable thing to do!" - that is not a position that anyone seems to be holding.

There are a lot of people in that thread who are indignant that anyone is going to college who isn't deeply invested in learning, as if that's the goal that sends people to academia.

We do not live in a world that rewards learning. We live in a world that awards the possession of credentials.

We do not live in a world where people pursue careers because they are inherently important and meaningful to them - they pursue them because they want to survive under capitalism. Most people are not going into healthcare, for example, because they genuinely want to help heal people who are sick or injured; they're doing it because it's a stable career that generated a livable income. I say this as a person who works in healthcare and deals with others working in the field.

"If you're using AI to get through your education you've not fucking earned your qualifications. That AI did."

No one has ever 'earned their qualifications' re: possession of a college degree. They have merely shown a capacity and willingness to jump through the required hoops.

Do you think that you can shame people into not using shortcuts?

I want readers to look at this thread:

which has a much more coherent idea of what the problem is and what can be done about it. I want readers to look into pedagogy; check out these old-ass videos:

And just... just go watch every Ted Talk by Sugata Mitra.

I think we as a society need to be far more honest in what the goals we have are and how they're best achieved. Most of the jobs that people end up spending their lives doing should not be asking for college degrees. Most people do not want or need to go to college. Most people in college, in school at all, are there under duress and the threat of destitution.

I really want people to reblog and reply to this with thier own thoughts - I know that's no longer vogue on tumblr, but I am trying really hard to bring it back. No, the replies will NOT be opened. Fucking reblog it.

[soapbbox]

You know how in TFP Optimus can’t really remember what happened during his time without the matrix. Yeah. The sad version of this what if Optimus met cogless Megatron.

Cont from this, and this

[italyveneziano]

Finally getting the answers to what the plans for HetaOni were honestly feels like this

[biblically-accurate-dca]

KILL!!!!!!!!!

[tardis--dreams]

My gynecologist confusing me completely by not using raw violence this time, being overall quite nice, and first and foremost asking me to undressed from my waist Up?? Wtf?

[teaboot]

Things you can do as a security guard instead of acting like a dickhead: a vent post disguised as advice

Offer alternatives: IE, “Sorry, nobody’s allowed to hang out over there, but we have seats over here you’re welcome to use”. I recommend getting familiar with local parks, public seating, free food programs, outreach, mobile aid, etc., just in case those are needed.

Be polite: IE, “Excuse me, sir”, “I beg your pardon, miss”. This should go without saying but everyone deserves dignity.

Avoid phrasing requests as orders: IE, “Don’t stand in front of that” VS “Excuse me, could you move a bit to the side?”. This works best with an explanation, like, “There’s a sign behind you”, or, “you might get clipped by someone”. This helps communicate that you are asking for a reason, not just throwing your weight around. If you don’t have a reason, rethink whether or not you need to be doing anything.

Avoid directing blame or fault. Don’t say, “The owner says you gotta go” when you could say, “I’m not supposed to let people be here for X period” or “do X thing”. Again, try to have alternatives ready so people can use other resources or do something else instead of just abruptly changing plans.

Come from a place of compassion whenever you can. People are gonna tell you to get rid of the crazy screaming guy. They say that because they’re frightened and don’t know what to do. Your best approach is, “Hello sir”, followed by, “How are you today?”, “how’s it going?”, “are you doing alright?”, etc., depending on what the person is ACTUALLY doing / saying when you get there. You can offer help from there if needed, or leave them alone if they’re not in danger or a risk to anyone.

Remember you’re not a cop. This can mean whatever you need it to mean. For me personally, that means that with incredibly rare exception (like trying to sell to kids, contaminating other’s food or drink) I won’t report you for drugs. If I find you doing drugs on my site I’ll tell you a different place where you can do them instead and ask you to do them there. I have interrupted drug deals to ask the client and the salesman to both kindly move 15 feet to the left, I’m not kidding, I do not care.

Know who you can throw under the bus. Sometimes you gotta enforce rules and be the bad guy and if that’s the fault of some dipshit in a suit 200 miles away, you can say that. Sorry man, I can’t let you park your car on the lawn. I know you’re not hurting anyone and frankly I think lawn culture is stupid but there’s other parking stalls and if my boss sees you I’ll get a write-up for not doing my job. Shit sucks sometimes but if it wasn’t me telling you it’d be the new guy, and between you and me he’s an idiot and he’ll probably just report you to bylaw.

Don’t just act like you’re their friend, genuinely try to be a good friend. If you know that someone is doing something that will only result in a bystander phoning police, don’t let them go down like that. Let them know, “hey man, you seem like you’re having a shit time and I get it, I’ll do what I can, but we gotta have this conversation somewhere else ‘cause we’re freaking out the old ladies.”

Swallow your tongue. You can’t fix the world. People are gonna bitch at you about communists and 5G and gangster rap ruining the neighbourhood, that’s just part of the deal. Nod along, remain neutral, shut down any hate speech, redirect if you can, and keep a limit in mind where you’ll have to shut things down.

Accept that sometimes there are no solutions. Yes, that angry guy who blasts music will be back tomorrow. That homeless woman who asks you to help her find her dog that she hasn’t had in 30 years will ask again, and yes, you’re still going to take a description and promise to keep an eye out. That kid who smokes crack behind the building has been clean for a few weeks and still stops by to say hi, and you hope he’ll get his life together and be happy, but he also might relapse and OD before he hits 25. Sometimes you just have to do the best you can, even if nothing is guaranteed.

Be kind to teenagers. Being a kid is hard, and everyone’s on their ass all the damn time for everything.

Remember that the vast majority of bad people aren’t bad, just unhappy. The guy who keeps showing up drunk and puking on the carpet is unhappy. The lady who bitches about the service every single time and keeps coming back anyway is unhappy. The guy who leaves trash everywhere is probably unhappy. If they were happy, maybe they’d do better, but they’re not, and that’s kinda sad. You don’t have to let them get away with their shit, but they probably aren’t actually a worthless human being either.

It doesn’t matter if 12 is true or not. You need to believe it or you will become a harsh and bitter person. Look for evidence that people are not terrible and invent it if you have to

Don’t let yourself become a bastard

[tearingdread]

man 🐴 …..

[chromegnomes]

the most frustrating thing about AI Art from a Discourse perspective is that the actual violation involved is pretty nebulous

like, the guys "laundering" specific artists' styles through AI models to mimic them for profit know exactly what they're doing, and it's extremely gross

but we cannot establish "my work was scraped from the public internet and used as part of a dataset for teaching a program what a painting of a tree looks like, without anyone asking or paying me" as, legally, Theft with a capital T. not only is this DMCA Logic which would be a nightmare for 99% of artists if enforced to its conclusion, it's not the right word for what's happening

the actual Violation here is that previously, "I can post my artwork to share with others for free, with minimal risk" was a safe assumption, which created a pretty generous culture of sharing artwork online. most (noteworthy) potential abuses of this digital commons were straightforwardly plagiarism in a way anyone could understand

but the way that generative AI uses its training data is significantly more complicated - there is a clear violation of trust involved, and often malicious intent, but most of the common arguments used to describe this fall short and end up in worse territory

by which I mean, it's hard to put forward an actual moral/legal solution unless you're willing to argue:

Potential sales "lost" count as Theft (so you should in fact stop sharing your Netflix password)

No amount of alteration makes it acceptable to use someone else's art in the production of other art without permission and/or compensation (this would kill entire artistic mediums and benefit nobody but Disney)

Art Styles should be considered Intellectual Property in an enforceable way (impossibly bad, are you kidding me)

it's extremely annoying to talk about, because you'll see people straight up gloating about their Intent To Plagiarize, but it's hard to stick them with any specific crime beyond Generally Scummy Behavior unless you want to create some truly horrible precedents and usher in The Thousand Year Reign of Intellectual Property Law

[chronicbitchsyndrome]

so: masking: good, unequivocally. please mask and please educate others on why they should mask to make the world safer for immune compromised people to participate in.

however: masking is not my policy focus and it shouldn't be yours, either. masking is a very good mitigation against droplet-born illnesses and a slightly less effective (but still very good) mitigation against airborne illnesses, but its place in the pyramid of mitigation demands is pretty low, for several reasons:

it's an individual mitigation, not a systemic one. the best mitigations to make public life more accessible affect everyone without distributing the majority of the effort among individuals (who may not be able to comply, may not have access to education on how to comply, or may be actively malicious).

it's a post-hoc mitigation, or to put it another way, it's a band-aid over the underlying problem. even if it was possible to enforce, universal masking still wouldn't address the underlying problem that it is dangerous for sick people and immune compromised people to be in the same public locations to begin with. this is a solvable problem! we have created the societal conditions for this problem!

here are my policy focuses:

upgraded air filtration and ventilation systems for all public buildings. appropriate ventilation should be just as bog-standard as appropriately clean running water. an indoor venue without a ventilation system capable of performing 5 complete air changes per hour should be like encountering a public restroom without any sinks or hand sanitizer stations whatsoever.

enforced paid sick leave for all employees until 3-5 days without symptoms. the vast majority of respiratory and food-borne illnesses circulate through industry sectors where employees come into work while experiencing symptoms. a taco bell worker should never be making food while experiencing strep throat symptoms, even without a strep diagnosis.

enforced virtual schooling options for sick students. the other vast majority of respiratory and food-borne illnesses circulate through schools. the proximity of so many kids and teenagers together indoors (with little to no proper ventilation and high levels of physical activity) means that if even one person comes to school sick, hundreds will be infected in the following few days. those students will most likely infect their parents as well. allowing students to complete all readings and coursework through sites like blackboard or compass while sick will cut down massively on disease transmission.

accessible testing for everyone. not just for COVID; if there's a test for any contagious illness capable of being performed outside of lab conditions, there should be a regulated option for performing that test at home (similar to COVID rapid tests). if a test can only be performed under lab conditions, there should be a government-subsidized program to provide free of charge testing to anyone who needs it, through urgent cares and pharmacies.

the last thing to note is that these things stack; upgraded ventilation systems in all public buildings mean that students and employees get sick less often to begin with, making it less burdensome for students and employees to be absent due to sickness, and making it more likely that sick individuals will choose to stay home themselves (since it's not so costly for them).

masking is great! keep masking! please use masking as a rhetorical "this is what we can do as individuals to make public life safer while we're pushing for drastic policy changes," and don't get complacent in either direction--don't assume that masking is all you need to do or an acceptable forever-solution, and equally, don't fall prey to thinking that pushing for policy change "makes up" for not masking in public. it's not a game with scores and sides; masking is a material thing you can do to help the individual people you interact with one by one, and policy changes are what's going to make the entirety of public life safer for all immune compromised people.

[itsrlymine]

How Many Times Do You Need To Be Told It Already Happened To Know It's Done Now?

Make it simple because it is. Remember it already happened because it did. When we manifest something, WE LITERALLY BEGIN TO TALK ABOUT HOW IT MANIFESTED SO DO THAT SHIT NOW!!!  When something happens, we all naturally recount it. We explain it to ourselves afterwards in whatever way we can. If you want something to happen, tell yourself that it did.  I want a new job. Omg I love my new job. I want to receive tons of money. No way I just received so much money wow. I want a new apartment. Omg I love my new space.  The physicality of a thing isn’t what makes it real. It’s your perception that does. I don’t need to know what device you are reading this on to know you are reading. I don’t need to know when you started, how you pronounce the words, I don’t need to know anything but I know you are. It’s the same with everything else. 

Your mind’s eye sees EVERYTHING FIRST. That doesn’t mean it “takes long.” If you just saw something in your mind, IT HAPPENED. If you just thought of something you would like to experience, YOU ARE EXPERIENCING IT NOW. The only reason you “aren’t” is because you say so. Literally.  Again, when you think about memories, you experience them within you. You can feel like you are experiencing past feelings or thoughts by thinking about them yet you don’t question it. Now when it comes to things you do want, you act all weird about it??? Make it make fucking sense.  This whole entire thing is just about whether or not you trust yourself. Whether or not you believe in yourself. To believe in you is to believe in everything because you are everything. There is nothing outside of you. No power or being dictating whether or not you are worthy of something. The power is you.   I wanted to hear from someone I hadn’t heard from in years last night and then I had to remember “umm?? I’m pretty sure we just got off the phone what the heck.” They called me and we spoke as if there hadn’t been any time that passed at all between us. It had been over 3 years but should I have let that determine if I’d hear from them? NO. It doesn’t matter. The story you tell about yourself is the experience you live. Think back to before you found out about the law (you). You can literally see how your thinking and who you thought yourself to be created situations you were in as a result. There’s no need to sit and beat yourself up about the past because it’s also now just what you say it is.   Give yourself that peace you want. Give yourself the stress free space to enjoy life. There is nothing you can’t achieve as long as you have an open mind.  The world is constantly showing you who you say you are and what you believe about it. Whatever you say you are, you are.  You’ve accepted the fact that you can read and understand the words on this post so what’s stopping you from accepting the fact that you now have what you previously wanted. Be still and fucking know. It’s yours already damn. 

[ink-flavored]

i'm as upset as any 10+ year old tumblr user to see the degradation of ask culture. since i've been making my own games, i get people in my notes reblogging one game regularly—weekly, daily, sometimes multiple time a day—desperate for interaction that their followers simply won't give them, even as those same followers reblog the game from them. it's awful to see people crying out for connection only to be ignored by people who can obviously hear them. it makes me sad!!! and it's frustrating!!!

but at a certain point, we have to accept that yelling about how things were 10 years ago isn't going to change people's behavior. a vast majority of tumblr users simply do not send asks, don't intend to, and will reblog ask games without sending any questions no matter how much we insist it's impolite. it's time for a new approach—so to that end:

for everyone reading this, i give you permission and highly encourage you to copy and paste my ask games (any ask game tbh) into a blank document, fill out every single question for the OCs or WIPs of your choice, and post it. without getting a single ask from anyone, share it anyway. one question at a time, everything in one giant text post, whatever. there's a good chance people who are too shy to send asks will appreciate getting to learn about your characters and stories, and maybe even encourage them to ask you for more details. and even if they don't, maybe you'll build the confidence to post whatever you want about your characters, whenever you want.

be free.

[michanvalentine]

One thing I absolutely love about Astarion’s redemption arc is the complexity of his relationship with the figure of the hero.

Astarion is a vampire, a monster, and also a victim (as well as, in a way, a perpetrator, due to his forced obedience to Cazador). He is the first person in desperate need of a hero to save him and the last person suited for the role of a hero.

He prayed to every god for salvation, even for death, and even that was denied to him. He resents heroes and the powerful, and when confronted with the idea that both have a duty to protect the weak, he scornfully responds that no, they’ve done a terrible job—that in 200 years, no one saved him from torture, and that it was the mind flayers, other monsters, who finally freed him. And that, in reality, the powerful only use their strength to bend others to their will and serve their own selfish interests. It’s in this same conversation that Astarion declares his desire to be better than Cazador—stronger, more powerful—though the player likely meant kinder, more noble.

Yet, despite everything he says, despite his disapproval of every heroic action taken in Act 1, Astarion is irreversibly drawn to the figure of the hero. First and foremost, he seeks their protection, though still through the warped lens of his past under Cazador’s cruel talons. Secondly, he is extremely sensitive to kindness, understanding, acceptance—to being treated like a person, just as a true hero would treat him.

And then, this is something I particularly noticed while playing as Karlach—Astarion is fascinated by Wyll, who is, in many ways, the quintessential hero of the party. He even admits that if he had to choose one of them to feed on, it would be Wyll, because he is sweet and righteous, just. Which is a contradiction, because the very traits that draw Astarion to him are the same ones that make him want to drain him dry. Love and hate, all in one.

With this in mind, even the conversation after meeting Aurelia and Leon takes on a deeper meaning. The player sees something in Astarion, but he still refuses to recognize it, to admit it, and rightfully says he can’t be what we see in him—a good person, a righteous, understanding, even heroic figure. And yet, the player sees through him…

And it’s breathtaking when, during the ritual, just before stabbing Cazador, Astarion says those very same words: "You're right. I can be better than him." But this time, he doesn’t mean stronger or more powerful. No, this time, he means it exactly as it was first presented to him and so bitterly rejected. And he means it with all his heart.

And in doing so, in freeing all his siblings and all the poor souls imprisoned there, Astarion commits a truly heroic act. He does for others what he once desperately hoped for himself, what he prayed for—becoming the hero he needed. Because at the same time, he is freeing himself—from his chains, from his narrow worldview that saw everything in terms of power and dominance. For the first time, he is free to live outside of the path that someone else forced upon him.

And that’s exactly why, in my opinion, the next morning, it’s right to tell him that yes, we were the heroes who stood by his side, but we only gave him a push. Because, in the end, he saved himself.

He is the hero he had been waiting for centuries!

And that thought makes my heart race! ❤️