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fangswbenefits · 10 months ago

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The Arrangement (12) - In the Beginning

Chapter summary: Astarion meets up with Ava and it triggers something deep within him.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Astarion's POV. Mention of masturbation. Dissociative episode. Bloodlust.

Word count: 4.8k

Series Masterlist . Ao3

He should have known this would happen eventually.

His love affair with the sun had reached an unavoidable end. Yet again. Luck had seldom ever been on his side, so this shouldn’t sting this much.

But it did.

His eyes darted to the half-moon window high up above through which scorching shafts of sunlight tore and lit up the dingy cellar.

Revulsion stirred within him and the flares of anger threatened to consume him whole.

The very same sun rays in which he had bathed for weeks were now a sore reminder of his true and inescapable nature.

He titled his head back against the wooden crate, his eyes fluttering shut in defeat as he sat on the cold floor.

Astarion had served his purpose and was now cast to live in the shadows once more, bound to his hunger and to all the inconveniences of being a vampire spawn.

The pain of being scorched by the sunlight had been revived in his mind after weeks of freely strolling around the Sword Coast in some impromptu quest to save Baldur’s Gate whilst having to deal with an inconvenient wriggling dweller inside his head.

But all the physical pain of being burnt mercilessly paled in comparison when his ears picked up approaching footsteps.

He knew who they belonged to.

The sound was carved into his mind like a dagger that wouldn’t budge.

You.

He winced as the squeaky door was pushed open.

“Astarion?”

He gritted his teeth, silently praying you’d simply walk away and leave him to his misery.

But his prayers had never been answered before, and that wasn’t about to change now, least of all when it concerned you.

In truth, he doubted any God above would be able to keep you from plaguing his thoughts.

“Astarion, I know you’re in here.”

Then leave.

He remained silent, eyes fluttered shut and an urge to be swallowed whole by the ground below.

Light and careful footsteps drew near and only came to a halt as a swift rush of air indicated to him that you were crouched in front of him.

Shit.

“Hello,” you said and he could hear the warm smile in your voice.

Slowly, he opened his eyes and he was sure that if he had a beating heart, it would most likely skip a few beats. Instead, he felt his stomach lurch as hunger simmered dangerously.

Your kind eyes met his and he craved nothing more than to have you be gone.

From all the afflictions he was yet again a slave to, you were by far the most painful one.

“Did you come here to mock me?” he spat, the poisonous words leaving his mouth before he could hold back.

Your eyes widened slightly. “Mock you? Astarion–”

But he cut you off like a knife through flesh. “Spare me – I saw the way they laughed as my skin crumbled to ashes. So if you’ve come here to have your share, you can just leave.”

He was being unfair and he didn’t need your wavering smile as proof.

After all your travels together and his unrequited feelings towards you, he couldn’t fight his arrogance from surfacing.

But you never gave up on him – through deceit and manipulation, you were unmoving and relentless in your loyalty to him.

“I’ll have you know that I scolded all of them for doing so,” you said firmly. “It was uncalled for, especially after everything we’ve been through together.”

His jaw clenched harder and his eyes narrowed.

Oh, he couldn’t stand it. That look on your face – pity. It immediately triggered a visceral reaction deep within him, and when he saw you reach out to him with your hand, he flinched away and recoiled against the crate behind him.

“Don’t touch me.”

Your hand immediately stilled before dropping to your knee, and he saw a glint of sadness cross your eyes.

It wasn’t disgust or anger that caused him to utter such words.

He just knew your touch would ruin him and that he’d allow it.

“We can find a way to solve this,” you tried again with newfound determination. “We will find a way.”

He scoffed, averting his gaze.

Unfortunately, the laws of the worlds didn’t bend to the whims of lesser beings without compromise.

And he soon realised what really bothered him was how vulnerable he felt – how exposed and weak he surely looked in your eyes.

Pathetic.

Useless.

Tainted.

Broken.

“Do you trust me?”

He remained silent.

“Do you?”

Your insistence gnawed at his nerves, causing him to lock eyes with you again.

“It goes beyond trust, darling. If walking in the sun again – or curing vampirism altogether – were that easy, I would not be here in the first place.”

Even through his snarky remark, you found a way to hold a smile and it immediately disarmed him. “Astarion, if there is anything our travels together have taught me is that we're quite good at turning the impossible into possible,” you said with conviction. “If there is a way to help you, we will find it.”

In another lifetime, he would have called you a foolish human who uttered big words without knowing their meaning.

But in this one, he did know you didn't extend promises lightly.

And if there was a sliver of hope he could cling to, he'd take it, especially now that Cazador was no longer around to compel him otherwise.

“Well, who's ‘we’, exactly?” he asked, easing himself against the crate.

Your face lightened up. “You and me, of course.”

The two of you. Just the two of you?

Oh, he liked the sound of that. Very, very much.

His jaw slacked as hope kindled inside him, soaring dangerously high.

“Well, and Wyll – he's offered to help.”

Said hope plummeted back to the ground, shattering.

He scowled with a click of his tongue. “Did he, now? How chivalrous of him.”

You nodded. “I'm sure the others will come around, too.”

Astarion supposed this was a decent prospect, but almost grimaced when you extended your hand to him.

“Deal?”

He wanted to believe your relationship with him surpassed a mere friendship value, but he had grown tired of hoping for more.

Still, he would greedily take anything you would offer him.

Whether it was an indication that you craved more than friendship, or a simple handshake.

As such, he took your hand in his, revelling in the familiar warmth. “We have a deal, darling.”

Once he entered The Blushing Mermaid, it was evident that the presence of six Flaming Fists was not welcome at all.

Bork immediately asked for only two to stay inside as they were beginning to frighten the clientele.

But, much to his convenience, he immediately found who he was looking for, sitting in the furthermost corner of the lounge area.

Ava.

The plan was simple: try to get a confession from her – if applicable – but they would still be bringing her in for questioning as Rob Sorel, her lover, awaited her with Wyll.

A measured smile spread across her face as she noticed the fists behind him.

He slithered to her table with determined steps, aware that there was a possibility that this conversation would lead nowhere.

He slowly took the seat across from her, casually placing his twin daggers on the chipped table.

Ava's eyes dropped momentarily before meeting his again. “Oh, Astarion. Offering a silent warning with poison-coated blades? You needn't do that with me.”

Astarion's lips twitched upwards in silence.

He knew this dance better than most. He could read others quite efficiently when it came to sudden shifts in body language, and he had noticed Ava sitting straighter and her saccharine smile wavering all of a sudden.

And he had her right where he wanted her.

“You can't be too careful. Isn't that what some say?” he said, absentmindedly drumming his fingers along the handle of one dagger.

She took a sip from her cup before tilting it. “I'd order one for you, but I know this isn't your drink of choice – unless you brought her along for a sip, that is.”

Her taunt was enough to set him ablaze and the tip of his blade was immediately carved into the wooden table, earning a jolt from her.

“You do not get to goad me with her,” he snarled, gripping the handle so fiercely he might snap it in half. “She is off limits and you were delusional to even think you could bring her into this without consequences.”

Suddenly, her face twisted into a hard scowl and whatever traces of sweetness vanished. “I would not do anything with her without talking to you first.”

“You still offered her a deal, thereby roping her into something she is not to be a part of,” he retorted. “Her blood is off limits. She is off limits.”

Ava leaned back with a roll of her eyes. “Is this a case of you not wanting to share? Not even if that could be beneficial to you?”

His grip loosened slightly as his brows furrowed. “What is your point?”

She took another sip. “Her blood mixed with yours could be beneficial to my experiment and, thus, to you and even that massive horde of spawn in the Underdark.”

Of course Ava would want to play her cards right to keep him around.

It was a temptimg prospect, and he would never consider it at your expense.

He was no fool and you were no bargaining chip.

“I could never ask that of her. She stays out of this.”

She forced a yawn. “Have you forgotten your arrangement with her? Her blood for your good behaviour? Or does all sense of reason rush to your cock when you feed on her?”

Ava's words slashed through the air and he was momentarily taken aback.

The nature of your arrangement with him was vastly different. It wasn’t as simple as him being kept in line like some obedient pup. He could have turned the offer away and live exclusively off boars and deers – much to his horror.

The difference was… well, you.

Your unwillingness to let him go.

Your blood.

Your insistence on helping him keep his mind clear by allowing him to freely feed on the blood of a thinking creature.

And not just any thinking creature.

You.

His first.

The only blood he craved to the point of madness.

“Though, I can tell you haven't fed in a couple of days,” she went on with a dramatic pout. “A lover's quarrel, hmm?”

Oh, she was vicious.

This was the same woman who had shared a bed with him to ease him coming to terms with intimacy. For the most part, her simply being naked by his side hadn't helped much, but it seemed enough, and he was desperate to overcome the prison that his mind had become.

However, this was also the same woman who slayed her kin without hesitation.

She could go from being as kind and sweet to holding a stake to his chest.

Astarion felt a sense of dread wash over him as he realised he had greatly underestimated her.

Now, he needed to tread lightly.

The blade sunk deeper into the table as he leaned closer. “You wanted her blood in exchange for information.”

“Yet it is a far less selfish bargain than your arrangement with her, is it not?”

He ignored tar taunt. “Who is after me?”

“I do not know yet.”

He gritted his teeth. “Lies.”

Ava's face softened and he watched her slip into her usual overly sweet demeanour. “Astarion, we can be here all night hurling accusations and witty remarks at each other,” she said with a sigh. “Or we can approach this in a more sensitive manner.”

He didn't budge. “Who is after me?”

“I do not know who is after you,” she said. “Someone is, but I have yet to find out who.”

There was something in her tone that felt disingenuous. Almost as if she hadn't expected him to press her on this.

“Or there is no one at all besides you,” he said casually.

Her eyes widened slightly. “Me? And what would I gain from doing such a thing? Your blood is an integral part of this experiment. Locking you up in a prison cell would prove to be a nuisance.”

His patience was wearing thin.

“Darling, I've been around long enough to know people lie – you are a pristine liar, but a liar nonetheless.

In truth, he was merely bluffing in an attempt to spot any cracks in her story. He needed anything he could get from her.

And a part of him still hoped this was all a misunderstanding.

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “I can see what you are trying to do and it won't work.”

He thought as much. Still, he had to give it a try.

“What about Waterdeep?”

For the first time that night, Ava looked genuinely dumbfounded. “What about it?”

“No casual killings over there, hmm? In the past hours – accidental ones, perhaps?” he pressed.

She frowned deeply in response. “What are you accusing me of, exactly?”

“Someone was murdered and I am simply trying to rule you out as a suspect,” he said, feigning concern.

“You overestimate my reach outside Baldur's Gate.”

He scoffed. “But not the reach of a certain patriar who so happens to be your lover.”

Ava's lips parted but she didn't utter a word.

“Rob Sorel has dealings in Waterdeep and knows which strings to pull to order a murder.”

She was visibly agitated, but he couldn't tell the cause. Was it the mention of a patriar? Or was he simply nearing the truth?

“Who was killed?”

It was all pointless.

A shame.

He merely turned in his seat and motioned for the two Fists at the door. Both immediately approached with the Mage Slayer right behind.

By this point, Astarion wasn't sure if Ava was even involved in this at all, but he couldn't take any risks. She would be taken in for questioning regardless of his judgement.

“Astarion?”

The room was immediately plunged into silence as multiple heads turned to watch the scene. From behind the counter he spotted Bork shaking his head in clear disapproval, visibly displeased with the ordeal.

“Astarion? What are you doing?”

His eyes met hers as he sheathed his daggers. “The right thing.”

He was known to do that from time to time, even against his better judgement.

She rushed to her feet, clawing at her dress in search of her own dagger. “Astarion!”

He could hear the rising panic in her voice, and he silently watched as the mage cast Hold Person on her before she could so much as blink.

She was instantly left petrified in place as the violet sign on the floor caged her in.

Gasps echoed around him and the two Fists promptly rushed to her side.

“We'll handle it from here,” one of them told him.

There was a part of him that vaguely wondered if this was the correct approach.

A part of him that hoped for Ava not to be involved in any of it.

And then, from across the room, he saw you.

He blinked twice, thinking his eyes betrayed him, but there you were, standing by the door with a Fist at your side, staring back into his crimson eyes.

And it was as if he had been mentally slapped.

Ava had dared to involve you.

You.

And it had been his fault.

The unruly and dense crowd in the room wasn't enough to contain him from darting hurriedly to meet you.

Annoyance hit him first and it was woven into his words once he was in front of you, gripping your forearm. “Why are you here? I told you to let me handle this.”

You immediately yanked free with narrowed eyes. “I wasn't trying to interfere. But this idiot,” you said, pointing to the Fist who merely shrugged, “pushed me inside and – wait! How did it go with her?”

Astarion caught hold of your shoulders, pulling you to the side as Ava was carried away through the door.

As soon as it closed behind them, the fanfare commenced once more in between heated whispers and glares from those around the two of you.

“Marvellous as you can see,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “She didn't confess to anything, and I had limited time.”

You pushed the door open once again and he promptly followed you outside, until he felt a hard shove from someone's hand.

“Move, spawn.”

He glanced over his shoulder only to see a frowning Fist right behind.

“We are not cattle to be ordered around,” he spat, adjusting his vest. “Honestly, Wyll ought to have you all stand trial for severe lack of manners.”

“It's Duke Ravengard to you,” the Fist growled, hand on the hilt of his sword.

Astarion clicked his tongue humorously. “It's Wyll to me and Duke Ravengard to you, Fist.”

Before tensions could escalate any further, you were already tugging at his sleeve, and dragging him across the wooden pier.

Just as the Fist opened his mouth, a myriad of clashing and banging sounds were heard from inside and he turned to open the door.

Probably a tavern brawl.

What fun!

Seconds later, the armoured man was toppled to the ground as the door burst open with people yelling profanities and slinging fists at each other.

“I'll kill ya! WHERE IS MY CHICKEN, YOU OAF?” a drunkard missing most of his teeth yelled, holding a frying pan in his hand.

“YOU ATE IT, YOU IMBECILE!” said another, stepping on the fallen Fist and nearly losing his balance.

Behind them, Astarion spotted several items being tossed whilst Bork's voice begged for order.

He almost clicked his tongue.

Tavern brawls were too much fun and he always adored adding fuel to the fire by standing on the side and instigating these drunkard fools.

But a quick glance at you and he could tell you wouldn't approve of such activity, so he remained at your side.

The other two Fists that were standing guard nearby, clumsily rushed to the entrance.

“Go call for backup!”

The youngest nodded and nearly bumped into Astarion as he tried to keep his helmet steady.

“Oh! Do not leave! Do not move!”

Astarion immediately raised both hands innocently. “Wouldn't dream of it.”

“Right. Thank you!”

Idiot.

Surprisingly, you hadn't let go of his sleeve and your hand moved to his wrist, pulling him to cross the road until you reached the metal balustrade that allowed a privileged view over the Grey Harbour Docks.

It was far away from the chaos that had erupted, but not quite far that would potentially get you into trouble.

Although… “Maybe we should leave.”

Astarion arched an eyebrow at you. “And going against the voice of authority?”

Your face dropped and he fought the urge to pinch your cheek teasingly.

You were so easy to rile up.

“You scheming little delinquent, you,” he said with a devious smile and a chuckle. “I'm all for acts of rebellion, but we ought to stay nearby this time.”

“Do you think we should go help them out?” you asked, glancing over at the rising commotion nearby.

The two of you exchanged looks before shrugging.

“No. They can fend for themselves,” you said, leaning over the fence, eyes set on the lulling sea that spread vastly into the distance.

“Actually, they're quite incompetent, but I don't feel like creasing my shirt,” he said with an annoyed click of his tongue, inspecting his sleeves as he joined you. “Let them fight off the drunkards. We get to collect the scattered coins on the floor afterwards.”

You shot him a curious look. “You do that?”

“Well, obviously? I put the gold to good use, at least.”

“Embroidery?”

That tugged a genuine smile from him and he caught himself staring at you under the moonlight.

Gods.

He would never tire of admiring your beauty and how it was almost embarrassingly too easy for him to get lost in your eyes.

It also didn't help that he hadn't fed in a few days.

Bloodlust clouded his mind and made his insides turn.

It was the soft sound of your voice that snapped him from his thoughts. “What now? I mean… Ava.”

He cleared his throat. “Well, they are to interrogate Rob Sorel and see how both their stories hold up.”

You heaved a deep sigh. “So we wait.”

“We wait.”

Astarion had grown used to the silence that would often settle around the two of you. It wasn’t an uncomfortable one. It was the kind that he had never experienced before.

He wasn't sure there was a name for it, but he knew the feeling attached to it all too well.

The silhouette of passing ships on the horizon, dancing along the calm waters added to the overall soothing atmosphere.

He could stay a while longer like this.

With you.

His eyes eventually darted to the side and he nearly jolted when your head turned to him, as if you had felt his burning gaze.

“You can feed on me once we get home.”

He wanted that.

He needed it.

He craved it.

But… “I can do without your blood for a while longer, darling.”

A white lie.

He could feel his mind spotting and blanking at times already, especially when near you. Maybe he had gotten too addicted to feeding on you to the point his body could no longer go extended periods of time without blood.

Your blood.

And as much as he appreciated your offer, he needed to withstand his hunger.

Ava's words echoed in his mind and he almost felt repulsed from having allowed himself to be so dependent on you and putting you through it in the first place.

“Are you alright?” you asked, visibly worried.

“Yes – of course, darling,” he forced a smile to curl his lips.

Your hand came to rest on his forearm. “Astarion, you can feed on me. I mean it.”

His eyes dropped to your neck, the symmetrical puncture wounds still visible from when he had last bitten you.

Hunger swelled to the point of agony and he could almost smell your blood and feel it coursing through your hand.

You gave him a reassuring nod, which only made it harder for him to resist the urge to give in.

“I should go hunt, actually,” he eventually managed to say and his words felt like ash in his mouth.

You chuckled slightly, squeezing his arm. “You'd probably have to bring a Fist with you.”

He grimaced, but appreciated your attempt at diffusing the tension. “They would end up being the ones hunted by some beast in the woods, and I would have to step in and save the godsdamned idiot.”

Your eyes widened and then you laughed.

Hard.

And it was the most comforting sound he had ever heard in a long while.

It was enough to steer the bloodlust away and he laughed with you.

“It reminds me of the first time you fed on me,” you said, wiping off the teardrops that had formed in the corners of your eyes from laughing. “Remember? When you drifted off into the woods to hunt for something more ‘filing’?”

Oh.

Shit.

His smile wavered and you immediately caught on to the sudden shift.

“What?”

He thought he had told you what truly happened that night….

…. he hadn't?

“Well… I…” his words failed him and as he pondered how he should approach the topic.

Concern suddenly splattered across your face. “What is it?

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“I didn't exactly go hunting,” he said with a tense chuckle.

You remained silent, waiting for him to go on.

“I just had to get away from you… to… uhm, well – take care of a little problem that stirred whilst I fed on you, if you catch my meaning.”

He allowed the implication to dangle from his words, and it wasn't a particularly subtle one.

And then your eyes widened once more in sudden realisation.

“Oh… it makes sense,” you said all flustered, withdrawing your hand from his arm. “You did say my blood feels really good.”

‘Good’ was an unfair understatement.

It always felt divine.

“Don't misunderstand,” he quickly added. “It was totally out of my control. I was quite surprised when I realised just how…” hard he had gotten.

“Just how…?”

“Just how much your blood affected me.”

He could remember it clearly in his head.

How desperate he was to slip into the woods and find a secluded place so he could see just how much of a mess his trousers were.

He could feel it, obviously, but he wouldn't know the extent of the ‘'damage’ until he undid his trousers.

“Did you… get…. really hard?” you drawled out in a hushed tone as if scared someone other than him might overhear you.

Astarion figured this was the last topic he expected to be addressing given that the background noise consisted of screams and threats and loud noises and glass smashing.

Hardly the right ambience.

“Yes.”

He could almost remember the feel of the bark of the tree digging into his back as he hurriedly undid the lacing at the front until he was able to free his cock.

“And what did you do?”

Were these merely questions that stemmed from curiosity or were you trying to stir something else…?

“Well…” he started, “you can't expect me to reveal such things aloud.”

He watched you swallow hard as you nodded. “You can say in my ear, then? If you want to, of course,” you quickly added.

You were too adorable and he was in dire need of a distraction from his bloodlust.

This would suffice.

He leaned closer, and pressed a kiss to your heated cheek before his lips grazed the shell of your ear.

“I had to take care of it.”

You shuddered.

His cock had never been as hard and as thick before he had fed on you. It had made him utterly speechless to see all the precum dripping from the tip.

He had been almost too scared to even touch it.

But when he did….

The groan that had erupted from his throat had been too difficult to rein in. His cock had felt warm and it had throbbed from your blood coursing through it, giving it a faint pink tint to it.

“In the woods?” you asked, gripping the railing with both hands.

“Yes.”

He could hear the faint beating of your heart increasing. “What if someone had run into you?”

His cock twitched.

Innocent, little pup…

“Why, darling… did you want to run into me,” he lowered his voice as his lips brushed against your ear, "and witness my despair as I touched myself?”

You gasped.

Despair didn't quite cover it.

He couldn’t remember a time when he had ever felt like he'd implode lest he reached climax.

It was a novelty and he had felt… alive.

He had heard of how delectable the blood of thinking creatures could be, but he had never anticipated this feeling of fullness and how addictive it could be.

“It was so warm… from your blood, sweetheart,” he purred, feeling himself getting carried away.

You bit your quivering lip before replying, “Did it feel good?”

Maybe too carried away.

And when you shuddered again under his faint touch, it was as if he had been slapped back into another plane of existence.

He suddenly straightened himself and blinked.

What was he doing?

His abrupt change in demeanour was enough to earn a reaction from you, and he could see lust in your half-hooded eyes as you stared at him in confusion.

And just like a tidal wave that one couldn't hold back, he felt disgust and revulsion lacing themselves into a powerful mixture that caused him to take a step back.

His mind was flooded with Ava's accusatory words and the memories of him seducing you for his own benefit.

“Astarion?”

Your voice was miles away and he couldn't even bring himself to blink anymore.

The nauseating feeling was heightened by the fact that he had a very inconvenient erection strained against his trousers, begging for attention.

“Astarion… what is it?”

Your voice seemed even more distant than before, as if he had been plunged into a well and couldn't get out.

Why couldn't he get out?

Why was his cock so hard, but his mind so repulsed by it?

And the impending feeling of dread began to slowly overtake him like storm clouds rolling over the mountains, bent on flooding the land below.

And when it began to rain in his mind, it poured.

He needed to get away.

He needed to get away from you.

You tried reaching out to him with your hand, but he flinched away. “Don't touch me!”

And he could see it in your eyes.

Pity.

Again.

“I – I must go.”

And he didn't look back.

TBC

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x oc #astarion x female tav #astarion smut #astarion x female reader #astarion x f!tav

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byooregard · 2 years ago

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TAKUTO MARUKI? STUPID IDIOT MOTHERFUCKING TAKUTO MARUKI GODDAMN FOOL PAPER WRITING DUST EATING RAT OLD BASTARD SHITHEAD IDIOT AVATAR OF THE WHORE BIGGEST CLOWN IN THE CIRCUS LAUGHED OUT OF TOWN COWBOY TAKUTO MARUKI

STOP PINNING ME WHEN I TALK ABOUT TAKUTO MARUKI I HATE HIM SO MUCH WHY DOES HE HAVE SO MUCH FUCKED UP RESEARCH WHY DID HE DECIDE TO FUCK AROUND AND FIND OUT JUST SET THEM LOOSE IS HE DEAD IS HE A BASTARD MAN HAS SUCH A VISCERAL EFFECT ON ME NOT EVEN IN THE ROOM NEVER SEEN THIS MANS FACE AND I KNOW HE HAS THE WORLDS SHITTIEST BEARD GET AWAY FROM ME.

if i wanted to get into heaven and god said takuto maruki was on the other side i would piss on god's feet for the sole purpose of getting sent back down.

if i have to deal with takuto maruki speaking one word in person on voice in podcast not only will i close the tab i will delete my save out of spite and have to replay the entire game again for the experience of getting to skip any time when he is mentioned or alive

i dont even know why i hate him so much. he writes papers but i am just mad because i am angy

he better have some fucked up backstory to explain this if he's just some academic shithead who's a fan of fix it fics and wanted the irl version ill go ham BETTER have had the metaverse make him kill a man because if he didn't im gonna make him

paypal.com/IFuckingHateTakutoMaruki

arcs not even about him. vaguely mentioned what is supposed to maybe be his palace and I lost it where the fuck is takuto maruki if he's still alive im going to deeply wish he wasnt

crusty old man

i'll punch maruki and his sad school counselor twig bones will simply flake apart under my epic huge meat fist and he will disintegrate until all that's left is one paper he kept on him at all times simply titled Now You Fucked Up in ancient Yiddish.

im not breathing im hyperventilating at this point

i hope theres a date given for when takuto died or will die so i can set a reminder for it on my phone

everyday once a year i will look at it and do anything but pay respect for the man who had so much fucked up if true ideas

#not tagging him but #p5 #p5r #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #cleb talky

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brucewaynehater101 · 2 months ago

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WHUMPTOBER 2024: PROMPT #3

Set up for failure, fingerprints, "I warned you"

Brief synopsis: Tim warns Damian. Damian doesn't heed the advice.

“You're telling me that Bruce assigned you this case?” There's a note of apprehension in Tim's voice as his arctic eyes scrutinize his younger brother. Damian scoffs.

“What? Jealous that Father trusts me more than you, Drake?”

“That's not-” Tim's teeth grind together as he tries to halt his automatic response. “Look. Can you just tell me if anyone else knows about this?”

Damian rolls his eyes. “Perhaps you would need assistance with such a meager inquiry, but Father trusts my ability to handle it with ease.”

“So the answer is no.”

Instead of dignifying that with a response, the kid twists on his heel and returns with his perusal of the batcomputer. He needs to analyze the fingerprint and he does not have time to listen to his older brother's whims. Tim doesn't take the hint.

“If you won't let me in on the case, can you at least inform one other person? As long as it's not Bruce, can you please talk to someone about this?”

Emerald eyes peer over Damian's shoulder as he assesses the older man. Evidently not finding what he was searching for, he continues to ignore Tim.

“Please, Damian.”

With a scowl, the kid finally flips around again. “Why are you so insistent, Drake?”

Tim bites his lip hard enough for the skin to turn white. He avoids the other's stare. “Bruce has a habit of utilizing missions, in particular secret ones, to further his own agenda at the jeopardy of whomever he assigned it to.”

An indignant sneer paints the younger's face at the insult hurled towards their mentor. “You may be an unworthy imposter who doubts Father, but I won't. This is why you were stripped of the title that doesn't fit you.”

With that, Damian proceeds to ignore Tim again. Anger thrums within the older brother, but he knows there is nothing he can do to change the other's mind. If there's anything that Damian is, it's a dedicated but stubborn kid.

Part of Tim, the often buried protective instincts he feels for his baby brother, wants to solve the issue for Damian. He wants to drag Dick into this mess or Jason or Cass or even Duke. His fingers itch with the need to reach out to Oracle and double check whether she sanctions it. He could subtly manipulate the situation so Damian never falls to harm and never learns just what Bruce had in store for him.

There's so much Tim could do, but he won't. He shouldn't and he's been working on being better. He has a habit of controlling and managing other people's lives for them. He needs to allow his loved ones to make their own decisions, even if he knows they will regret it. They deserve that respect. Gods know Steph shouldn’t have had to scream it so many times for it to finally sink into Tim's thick skull.

The visceral obligation to fix this claws at walls of his ribs and it rakes at his intestines, but he's getting better at disregarding it.

It will burn Damian and destroy his trust in Bruce, but the older brother will let it happen. For once, Bruce will reap the direct consequences of his actions without Tim dulling or softening their effects.

He'll be there in the aftermath, and he'll be watching in the meantime. If it appears to be going to a point of no return, if Damian is in serious danger, then Tim will stop it. He will earn the kid's ire for that, but Damian's safety is paramount. Otherwise, it will run its course and prove to be a harsh lesson for the kid.

Tim heaves a sigh as his gaze falls away from the younger one. His shoulders droop with a weariness uncharacteristic of Red Robin.

Damian will make his own decisions. Tim will respect that.

~~~

Damian's hands shake both in fury and hurt. He raises his emerald eyes to glare at Drake.

The older’s expression isn't gloating or smug. It's defeated. He peers down at his kid brother with a dejected frown.

Damian drops his gaze to his lap as he tries to clench his fists. “Why?”

An exhale leaves Tim as he shakes his head. “He does this, Dames. I…” The older brother tries to swallow around the tightening in his throat. Brief flashes of a little black box and screaming matches on rooftops come to mind. “I could explain his reasons, but I'm tired. I'm so tired.”

The shaking of Damian's hands increases to his arms and then to his shoulders. His whole form trembles as his lower lip begins to wobble.

Tim moves until he's perched on the bed next to Damian. He allows their shoulders to touch as a subtle form of comfort. When he hears a little sniffle, Tim can't help but to close his own eyes.

The kid’s voice is nearly a whisper and is cracking with emotion. “You knew.”

The older brother could try to defend himself and state that he didn't truly know. He had a hunch. He worried. He suspected. He wasn't sure.

Still, there wasn't accusation in Damian's tone. Just resignation, hopelessness, and the realization that what's happened to him has happened before.

“Yeah.”

The younger brother nods at the confirmation and leans into the older one. Tim wraps an arm around his shoulder.

Neither acknowledge the tears streaming down the other’s face.

#whumptober 2024 #no. 3 #set up for failure #fingerprints #“i warned you”#tim drake #damian wayne #dc au #dc ficlet

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babyangelsky · 19 days ago

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Faith as a love language and why I want Ju Yeong to give Do Hoe his cross necklace

Let me preface this by saying that one, my interpretations are drawn heavily from my own personal experience as well as the culture I was raised in and two, that this is going to be very rambly and maybe not make a whole lot of sense to anyone but me. But @respectthepetty encouraged me to get this out of my brain so here we are.

In order to explain what I mean in the title of this post and actually get into the meat of it, there's two other things I need explain first. There are layers to this so please bear with me.

The first thing is that I am not and have never really been a practicing Catholic. I believe in god and have a very loose, very personal system of spiritual belief but I am not religious. My grandmother is Catholic however, a very devout one, and since she helped to raise me I would say I was partially raised Catholic. Emphasis on the partially because my beautiful mother in her infinite wisdom (and due entirely to her own religious trauma) felt it was important to give me a choice on the matter and figure out my faith for myself, which I love her dearly for.

(She also once infamously refused to kiss the ring of the local very important priest in the village she grew up in which is one of my favorite things about her)

However, I've learned that even if you are given a choice on whether or not religion will play any part in your life, that does not save you from developing religious trauma. Especially if you also happen to be queer and especially if you don't adhere dogmatically to the widely accepted--and arbitrary--set of rules that determine whether you are considered a "good (insert faith here)".

The second thing has to do with cross necklaces and why being given one is a very specific loving gesture.

I lived in Mexico for a while a couple of years ago. On the day that I was due to come back to the States, my grandma gave me a cross necklace. She didn't just give me a cross necklace, she gave me her necklace that had been custom made for her. She wanted me to have a safe flight and get home in one piece so she gave it to me.

I have worn that necklace every single day for the past two years. If I happen to wear another necklace for outfit reasons, I put my cross in my pocket. It's always around my neck or on my body. Always. And the thing is, I don't wear it to signify my belief god.

In the broader sense of faith and what it means to people, giving someone a necklace like that holds a lot of weight. Taking something off of your body, your 'self', that you trust to keep you safe and that represents your faith and your beliefs and then putting it on someone you love to keep them safe is such a visceral expression of love. It becomes a symbol of faith in a different way.

As I've established, I'm not devout like my grandma is. The necklace doesn't represent to me what it does to her. I wear it because doing so makes me feel loved and safe because she gave it to me, not because I have faith of my own.

Now, having said allllll of that.

Ju Yeong's cross necklace has been established to primarily represent not his faith, but his family's expectations. Expectations that he hasn't lived up to and that have turned that cross into a heavy symbol of his failure that keeps him shackled at all times except when he chooses to take it off. And when he chooses to take it off matters.

He took it off when he confessed to Do Hoe and again when he slept with him because in those moments he wants to be free of that burden, free of those expectations, free to just love Do Hoe without having to think about anything else. Not even god.

Because even if the necklace isn't primarily a symbol of Ju Yeong's faith, it still is a symbol of his faith or rather, the faith that he had no choice but to adhere to when he became a pastor's son. That's what makes Do Hoe misunderstand what it means for Ju Yeong to take it off when he's with him. He interprets it as Ju Yeong being ashamed, as wanting to hide his sin, as only allowing himself to love Do Hoe when god isn't watching. He's wrong, of course, but he doesn't know that. Yet. (Petty explained it better go read that post)

We haven't really gotten into Ju Yeong's relationship with his faith and with only two episodes left I don't think we will, and that's a shame because I think recontextualizing what the necklace means to him and what his faith means to him would help him heal.

(Which is something I believe anyone who has religious trauma should do at some point in their life, especially if they're queer. Religion is so often weaponized against people and something that's used to make them feel inadequate and ashamed and like they aren't allowed to draw comfort from it unless they fall in line with what it asks of them. We always think of it being used that way specifically against queer people but that isn't always the case. I'm not out to my family and I once had a relative look me in the eyes and tell me I was going to hell for not going to mass.)

Really it would help both of them heal because even though Do Hoe wasn't the one with the religious upbringing, the necklace is still making him feel the same sort of inadequacy and shame he thinks Ju Yeong feels.

Which is why I want Ju Yeong to give Do Hoe his cross necklace.

Recontextualizing what it means, allowing it to be a symbol of his faith and nothing more, and making the conscious decision to take it off of his body and put it on Do Hoe so Do Hoe knows that he's loved without shame would mean everything to me personally.

Faith is a love language. It's why Mexican mothers pin medals with the Virgin of Guadalupe on them to their newborns' onesies, why parents choose auspicious names for their babies, why the very first prayer Christian and Catholic children are taught is the guardian angel prayer, why grandmothers do the sign of the cross over their children and grandchildren and end every conversation with "que dios te acompañe", and why we put crosses on the people we love.

#did any of that make sense #i hope so #it made sense in my head #let free the curse of taekwondo #conversations with leah

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spnbabe67 · 23 days ago

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Fire Up The Night

Kinktober Day 30: Against The Wall (B.B.)

Pairing: Billy Butcher x Original Female Character

Warnings: Smut, Throw away character gets a little handsy, PiV, Sex in an Alley,

Summary: Butcher can't stand the sight of seeing Samarra flirt with someone else. But she isn't his, right?

Word Count: 2233

Authors Note: Title is the title of a song by New Medicine

I know I wrote something similar to this with my last Jake Seresin entry, but I what can I say? I'm a sucker for the possessive type, and I hopefully made this different enough to count. I also decided halfway through I could have written it another way, but by that point it was too late for me to go back and change it because I still had to study for an exam the next day.

Butcher was two seconds away from crushing the tumbler full of whiskey in his grasp. He didn’t know how long Samarra had been across the bar talking to a sleazy looking guy, a Supe high up in the Vought chain if the info they were given had any credibility. Not quite as god-like as one of the Seven, but definitely had enough clearance that if they managed to snatch the wanker, they could get some good intel off of him. But fuck, if he had to watch Samarra flirt with him for any longer, Butcher was gonna kill someone. The Supe, Steve or Tony or something, had her leaned back on her elbows against the bar, shooting her a thousand-watt grin, plying her with a seemingly endless supply of alcohol. Butcher could help the twinge of satisfaction he felt every time the Supe bought her some fruity little drink. At least I know what she likes.

Samarra, to her credit, seemed to hold her liquor well, holding out through the conversation like a champ. Maybe a little too well. Butcher gritted his teeth at the nagging thought. Her smile looked just a little too bright, laugh sounding a little too real for his liking. From his vantage point in the corner of the club, he could see the way Samarra didn’t balk from Tony/Steve’s hungry gaze devouring her body on display. Butcher had argued the dress made of gold-accented black gauzy material that hung off every curve and dip of her body was too damn revealing, but Annie had insisted, and Samarra had agreed with her. He knew she was stunning, but why choose that dress in particular; she could seduce a sworn celibate in a pair of week old sweats, she didn’t need all the makeup piled on her features or the glitz and glam. It was simply adding insult to injury.

The worst part was he knew he wasn’t supposed to feel like this. Wasn’t supposed to feel this raw and grating jealousy every time Samarra trailed her finger up the Supe’s arm. They were fuck buddies for fuck’s sake, not going steady. So all Butcher could do was watch on in silence, doing his best to keep his cool as she worked her magic, every tinkling laugh and featherlight touch on the poor sap’s arm, chest, shoulder, only pulling Tony/Steve further and further into her web of lies. Butcher should have been disturbed how easy this was for her, but instead it had the opposite effect. Maybe it was the atmosphere, the pounding music and flashing lights, mostly naked bodies grinding on the floors and poles, but he’d had to readjust his pants more than once watching her seduce Tony/Steve.

After what Butcher deemed too damn long, Samarra’s gray eyes caught his, disappointment and anger ebbing over him at the subtlest shake of her head. Not necessarily at her, but at their informant for giving them wrong intel, wasting their time and needlessly putting them in danger. He’d definitely be killing somebody later. Maybe now, Butcher thought as Tony/Steve’s hand landed on Samarra’s waist. Way far past having enough, he downed the rest of his drink before weaving his way through the crowd.

Samarra kept the preformative smile plastered to her face, looking up at Steven beneath heavily lidded eyes, playing the drunken bimbo to a T. She had to stop herself from viscerally recoiling from his sweaty palm on her waist, feeling his humidity through the very delicate fabric of her dress.

“Oi, cunt. You messin’ with me girl?”

That feeling of disdain and exasperation quickly faded as Butcher’s familiar accent came from her left. She had to bite her lip to keep from bursting into laughter as he muscled his way between her and Sleazen, as she’d named him in her head, Sleazen’s eyes going wide at the intimidating figure Butcher cut, immediately stepping off her. His familiar scent wafted over her, putting her nerves less on edge as they’d just been. She had full confidence she could drop Sleazen if she had to, but knowing she had back up only helped matters.

“I’m alright, Baby.” Samarra turned to Butcher, feeling her heart pounding in her chest as she gave the quickest sidelong glance to the Not-Supe before passionately, and loudly, kissing Butcher, hoping he understood the angle she was playing.

He clearly got the message, big hands falling to her hips, replacing the same area where Sleazen had just had his own grip. After a second, Samarra peeked an eye open, checking to see if the coast was clear. When she saw Sleazen was nowhere to be seen, she pulled away taking a breath, giggling to herself.

“Holy shit was he a loser.” Samarra adjusted the strap of her dress, the satin strip having almost slipped off her shoulder. What she missed was the way Butcher’s dark gaze caught on the movement, pulling his attention back to her face.

“I bet.” He guided her by the waist away from the bar and through the throng of people. “You can tell me and the others just as soon as we get back.”

Samarra didn’t think too much about it when Billy led her out one of the side exits, the dark doorway leading into a small alleyway behind the club. The fresh air was welcomed, Samarra breathing it in deeply as the chill of the night sent a shiver down her spine. She damn near ran into Butcher’s back, her gaze skyward to look at the stars speckling the pitch black backdrop.

“Butch, why’d you stop?” Samarra wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m freezin’ my tits off out here.”

Her brows furrowed as Butcher looked at her over his shoulder, turning around to face her. His pupils were blown wide and the way he was looking at her had heat pooling in her core. It was so different from the entitled gaze of Sleazen, this heated look was welcomed, encouraged even.

“What?” Samarra asked, laughing awkwardly as Butcher took a step towards her, making her step back. Or she would have had the cold stone of the brick wall hadn’t bit into her back, making her flinch at the harsh temperature contrast.

“Do you,” Butcher took another half step closer; if Samarra tilted her head up and leaned in just a little, their mouths would touch. “Have any idea, what you do to me.”

Samarra ran her tongue over her lips, her mouth parting open slightly as her breath hitched as he got closer. “I have an idea.”

All it took was Butcher dipping his head to capture her lips, kissing her deeply, sweeping his tongue into her mouth. Samarra let her eyes fall shut at the sensation of his mouth on hers, his body brushing up against her arms. He took hold of her wrist, unfurling her arms from around her body and a small noise escaped her as Butcher guided her hand down between their bodies to press her palm against the very obvious bulge in his jeans.

“Alla that just from watchin ya work your magic on that sleazy cunt.” Butcher groaned against her skin, trailing his mouth down her jaw to her neck.

Samarra bit her lip, palming him through his jeans. “I think that says more about who you are as a man than it does about my skills.”

She felt him snort a laugh against her neck, nipping playfully at the junction of her neck and shoulder. Samarra tipped her head back against the wall, rolling her hips against the thigh he’d nudged between her legs, pinning her against the brick. Butcher’s hand slid up the outside of her thigh, teasing under the thin fabric of her dress, the hem having fallen about mid-thigh. A cheeky grin tipped the corners of her lips upward as Butcher cursed against her neck as his hands slid high enough on her thigh and hips to realize that she was not, in fact, wearing any panties.

“Fuckin’ diabolical.” Butcher growled, kissing her harshly. “Gonna give this old man a heart attack pulling shit like this.”

“Who said it was for you?”

Butcher’s answering swat to the inside of her thigh had Samarra laughing breathily. The teasing was short lived as he palmed her ass, kneading the softness there before hoisting her upwards, wrapping her legs around his waist. The leather of his trench coat was cold against the bare skin of her legs, but the heat pooling between her legs more than made up for it, along with the warmth of his torso through his dress shirt

Samarra knew her arousal was soaking into the bottom of his shirt but she couldn’t find it in her to care as Butcher’s hip chased her hand as she deftly undid his belt and the button of his jeans. His beard chafed at the side of her neck as he worked to kiss and suck dark marks into her skin, his hand coming up to knead her breasts through her dress He groaned deeply, the sound reverberating into her body when as he went to kiss her, Samarra brought her hand to her mouth, licking her palm wrapping it around his length, pumping her hand up and down him loosely as she pulled him free from his clothes. He bucked his hips against her hand, rutting his cock through her fingers as she guided him to her center.

They both groaned as the head of him slid inside of her. Butcher leaned in, reclaiming her mouth. Samarra’s desperate moans lived and died on his tongue as he slid in and in until his hips sat flush against her. Butcher slid back out, almost all the way, before slamming back in, making her cry out, the sound swallowed by his mouth. Again and again he rocked his hips back just to slam back in, driving her into the wall. Samarra could feel the roughness of the brick at her back digging into her skin, scraping and scratching every time he bottomed out with a sharp thrust.

Samarra slid her hands up and down his torso, trying to find someplace to steady herself against the onslaught of harsh thrusts, ending up on his shoulders. She rolled her hips back against him, keeping up with his punishing rhythm the best she could. Her head goes hazy at his seemingly omnipresent existence; he’s around her, he's inside her, even as her breaths grew into ragged pants she breathed in his scent. Butcher’s lips migrated back down her jaw, ending up on her neck as he braced a hand on the wall beside her head.

“Fuck, Mara.” Butcher mumbled, nearly inaudibly, and Samarra wondered if his utterance was meant to be incoherent as he continued. “I shouldn’t be jealous. You aren’t even mine.”

Samarra bit her lip hard as the revelation was punctuated with a harsh thrust, his movements becoming more uneven, snapping up into her harder and harder until she started to see stars behind her eyes. Samarra clung to him as that coil in her belly grew tighter, her thighs starting to go lazy around his waist. Butcher came with a string of curses into her shoulder, hips stuttering, gripping her thigh to keep it in place on his side. Samarra rolled her hips against him, garnering the friction of his still-on pants against his clit to supplement the change in rhythm. He continued to fuck into her until her inner walls squeezed around him, a keening moan falling from her lips as she came.

Butcher pulled away just enough as they both panted harshly in the post-climax high. He helped set her back down on her feet, holding onto his arm since her legs were still shaky. Samarra straightened the skirt of her dress back down her legs, running a thumb under her lip to swipe away her smeared lipstick.

“You got-” Butcher gestured to her mouth as she did.

“Here?” She rubbed a different spot.

“No, a little more over-not that far.” Butcher huffed at her before grabbing her wrist. “Just, let me get it.”

Samarra stood still as Butcher reached up, dragging his thumb along the side of her lip, his minstations gentle as he removed her smudged lipstick before pulling his hand away.

“Thanks.” She said quietly, suppressing a shiver as the loss of heat reminded her just how cold it was outside. “Shall we. I’m sure M.M. and the others are thinkin’ we got ourselves into trouble.”

Butcher nodded, gesturing for her to walk ahead of him around the back of the building. Samarra flinched when as they rounded the corner with the parking lot in sight, something warm encased her shoulders. Butcher’s cologne filled her nose as she realized it was his trench coat, patched many times over and warm, that he’d plunked down on her shoulders. She looked up at him with pinched brows, but his only reply was a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. Samarra opened her mouth to say something, anything. Maybe address what he’d muttered into her body minutes before. But in the end she shut it, chalking it up to the heat of the moment; it wasn’t like she knew how to broach the subject if it wasn’t anyway. Instead she stayed silent, sliding into Butcher’s car as he pointed the headlights back to the apartment.

#billy butcher x oc #the boys billy butcher #billy butcher smut #billy butcher imagine #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher #william butcher #the boys amazon #the boys fanfiction #the boys smut #the boys tv #billy butcher brainrot go brr #kinktober 2024 #kinktober

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dollsome-does-tumblr · 2 months ago

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saw speak no evil last night, which i really enjoyed! it proved to be my very favorite kind of stressful movie, i.e. a slowburn thriller where people go to a beautiful and remote location and then Things Go So Wrong! it reminded me a lot of other faves ex machina, men, 10 cloverfield lane, the menu, ready or not, the recent blink twice, etc.

just some thoughts about this movie (spoilers!)--

+ i really enjoyed all the gender role stuff going on in this one a whole bunch. this is, of course, a classic gothic romp in my eyes. therefore, watching the dad -- down on his luck, feeling emasculated by his female family and by life not favoring him as much as it was supposed to! -- get seduced by the alpha male andrew tate-y bs embodied by james mcavoy's character, like the dad was but a shrinking naive gothic heroine missing or even lusting after all the red flags, was SUCH a fun subversion to me. yes! yes!!!

+ every time that mackenzie davis's character tried to establish boundaries and they got run over and then she let it slide to be palatable, i viscerally FELT THAT. there was, of course, a big element of 'privileged people wanting to appear woke so they keep being boundlessly pityingly nice to the poor people', but even deeper than that, i think this was a great portrayal of how women in particular are expected to constantly accommodate and ignore their intuition. the bit with making her eat the goose. D: and it got worse!

+ i also really liked how in the big showdown, the mom and the kids were the ones who actually took out the enemies, and the dad was the only one without a 'kill' to his name. (though he did sacrifice himself by jumping off the roof, mirroring Accomplice Wife's self-sacrificial death!)

+ gosh, the dark implications re: Accomplice Wife's character were so harrowing - the victim becoming the abuser - and the fact that the little girl was being primed to follow in her footsteps ..... D:

+ i enjoyed that the kids were the ones who had the sort of Big Finding Bluebeard's Closet Of Dead Wives Reveal. (my bf pointed out that this is a bluebeard story, and it so is! my favorite!) that sort of ASOUE-y feeling of kids having to make it on their own because adults aren't a guaranteed source of safety. MAN, poor ant. :'( that kid had a HORRIBLE time. i really admire his persistence in keeping on fighting and trying to communicate.

+ i saw someone in the reddit discussion thread say that couple vs. couple is an underrated trope, and i agree! would love to see more of that in cinema.

+ love how the title operates both on the level of "this kid can speak no evil about what we do because we cut his tongue out" AND "don't ever say anything mean to people or you might hurt their feelings and what could possibly be worse than that (oh, this, i guess) 😬"

+ can't believe they did nick miller's favorite song cotton eyed joe so dirty like that. :( that scene honestly brought tears to my eyes from pure misery. the fact that some parents really do treat their kids like that ...................... (even if that wound up not being totally the situation in this particular movie). disgusting and heartbreaking.

+ the most a+ "eternal flame" use since gilmore girls.

+ after i watched the movie i read up on what the original film was like, and may i just say: that would have broken me psychologically in the movie theatre. thank god i didn't have to see that. THANK GOD! sometimes american optimism really works for me, honestly. if it's a gothic, then in the gothic, they've always got to make it out at the end!!! bruised and bloodied and haunted but still standing! so i'm really glad they did!

+ it honestly never occurred to me that people would thirst over james mcavoy in this movie, because he's so gross and horrible, but it takes all sorts to make a world, it turns out. the internet teaches me that every day!

+ anyway, i had a great time watching this! would definitely watch again! but gosh, was it a special kind of fun and stressful to watch it unfold the first time.

#feeling very blessed by thrillers rn because i also just got the new ruth ware on libby 🤘#my two favorite genres are agonizing psychological thrillers and people being cute while not much happens #dollsome's deep thoughts #speak no evil

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differentnerddiplomatopera · 1 month ago

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I am kinda…i don’t even know anymore

“Do you think he knows?”

The power you have over me. The amount of knowledge you possess that allows insight of me inside and out? My evident desperation, an intense visceral need to have you everywhere, to be engulfed by your very presence.

That’s a fool's dream, however. I know who you are, what you are. The lust that keeps you, feeds you. But I want it, I want you. I need you. How sick is that?

How sick is it to want you to tear my brain in twain, for you to see every thought I ever conceived in life; you deserve to see me in every way; my fears, my insecurities, my flaws. Maybe you will leave. I beg the gods you stay.

Is it bad that I want you to brand me, make both god and man aware that I am yours? Use fire my love, so that I never forget.

I exchange the title of Athena’s warrior, master of the war cry; when with you, I am just a man, weak and pathetic. In desperate need of a commanding hand, relinquishing control to you.

“Please, closer. I need you closer”

No longer a coward, fearful of life outside my mind. In your presence, I am brave; able to break down walls for you, fight, bleed and smile with you.

Trusting a snake. Taming a boar. Prey and predator are us both. Circling for the kill. For the taste of iron. For victory of a conquest.

I don’t know if I can survive you.

I don’t know if I want to.

I would love to die by your hands.

Such reckless abandon.

“We are walking a fine line here, Dio.”

“Hah! More like dancing. The line is far gone, dearest.”

“Doesn’t that scare you? Don’t I scare you?”

Let me watch your heart beat.

I want to count every thought in your brain.

“Terrified. I've been terrified,of course. Never like this. Never so consuming, so addicting, never; never you.”

Carve my name on your body.

Tear me apart.

Bend to my will.

“It’s not just me though. Both of us know this to be true. You tremble at the very mention of my name, as if the fates were against you. My touch leaves you wide eyed. I leave you in a frenzied mess.”

Ruin me.

“Say it.”

Let me break you.

“I’m terrified of you. You leave my blood cold and my head unbearably hot. I never want it to stop. Never, ever stop.”

But if you would be so kind, put me back together.

“Good.”

Hold me.

Memorize my scars.

Let’s both be brave and be cowards. That’s real. That’s raw. That’s us.

“I could never be bored by you.” “I could only pray.”

Let us drink in power and the madness it brings.

“You have my full trust….

…..Odysseus

Diomedes……

“I am yours to command.”

#Suggestive #odydio #odysseus #diomedes #the iliad #Sooo I’m kinda very much insatiable for them #I literally spend more time on them than anything else #You got hyperfixation and HYPERFIXATION #omg i need help #can somebody please write something #I #nooooo #i cant do this #i will drive myself madddd

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betweenlands · 4 months ago

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OLM!?

STUPID IDIOT MOTHERFUCKING OLM GOD DAMN FOOL ARCHITECTURE GORE MAKING GOD FAKING RAT OLD BASTARD GHOST OF AGOLITH BIGGEST CLOWN IN THE CIRCUS LAUGHED OUT OF TOWN COWBOY MOTHERFUCKING OLM

STOP PINNING ME WHEN I TALK ABOUT OLM I HATE THEM SO MUCH WHY DO THEY KEEP MAKING UP SHIT WHY DO THEY DECIDE TO FUCK AROUND AND FIND OUT JUST SAY SOMETHING ELSE ARE THEY DEAD ARE THEY A BASTARD OLM HAS SUCH A VISCERAL AFFECT ON ME NOT EVEN IN THE ROOM NEVER SEEN THIS THING'S FACE AND I KNOW THEY HAVE THE WORLDS SHITTIEST GRIN GET AWAY FROM ME

if i wanted to get into skyblock kingdoms and god said olms waiting inside i would piss on gods feet for the sole purpose of getting sent back down

if i have to deal with olm saying one word in person on voice in sbk not only will i close the tab i will delete the video out of spite and have to rewatch the entire series again for the experience of being able to skip all the times where they are mentioned or alive

i don't even know why i hate them so much. they fuck around but i am just mad because i am angy

they better have some fucked up backstory to explain this if theyre just some shithead god whos a fan of creepypasta and wanted the irl version ill go ham

BETTER have had the abyss make them a sealed ancient evil cuz if it didnt Im going to make it

paypal.com/IFuckingHateOlm

episodes not even about them. vaguely shown what is supposed to maybe be some architecture gore and i lose it

where the fuck is olm if theyre still alive im going to so deeply wish they werent

crusty old one

ill punch olm and their sad frail old god twig bones will simply flake apart under my epic huge meat fist and they will disintegrate until all thats left is one final tombstone to be locked at all times simply titled Now You Fucked Up in neo galactic

im not breathing im hyperventilating at this point

i hope theres a date given for when olm died or will die so i can make it a reminder on my phone

everyday once a year i will see it and do anything but pay respects to the god who constantly made up shit for fun to be evil

#anyway.#yt #txt #sbk #avidventures #orig #hey did you know that the jurgen leitner rant. exists. in fact theres a tag for rewrites of it probably so #jurgen leitner rant #edit i missed a phrase replacement lmao #edit 2: eff it. maintagged #avid adventures #skyblock kingdoms

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feathered-serpents · 1 year ago

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Somewhere, in a dark flat, Crowley angrily writes this down in the pages of the oldest bible he stole from Aziraphale’s bookshop:

THE METATRON?

STUPID IDIOT MOTHERFUCKING METATRON GOD DAMN FOOL ANGEL STEALING DUST EATING RAT OLD BASTARD SHITHEAD IDIOT VOICE OF THE WHORE BIGGEST CLOWN IN THE CIRCUS LAUGHED OUT OF TOWN THE COWBOY MOTHERFUCKING METATRON

I HATE HIM SO MUCH WHY DOES HE HAVE SO MANY FUCKED UP ANGELS WHY DID HE DECIDE TO FUCK AROUND AND FIND OUT JUST SET THEM LOOSE IS HE DEAD IS HE A BASTARD MAN HAS SUCH A VISCERAL AFFECT ON ME NOT EVEN IN THE ROOM BARELY SEEN THIS MANS FACE AND I KNOW HE HAS THE WORLDS SHITTIEST BEARD GET AWAY FROM ME

If I wanted to get back into Heaven and god told me the Metatron is waiting for me inside I would piss on God’s feet for the sole purpose of getting sent back to Hell

if i have to deal with the Metatron speaking one more word in person on voice in Heaven not only will i end the world I will steal the Book of Life out of spite and rewrite the entirety of existence to be able to undo all the times when he is mentioned or alive

Crusty Floating Head

I will punch the Metatron and his sad frail old man twig bones will simply flake apart under my epic huge meat fist and he will disintegrate until all thats left is one last version of the Bible simply titled “Now You Fucked Up” in ancient Yiddish

I’m not breathing I’m hyperventilating at this point

i hope I get to witness the day the Metatron dies or will die so i can make it a reminder on my phone

Everyday once a year i will see it and do anything but pay respects to the being who had such a fucked up if true voice

#good omens #I know this isn’t the whole rant okay it’s LONG #tma

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vampirebrainrot · 5 months ago

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LESTAT LIONCOURT??? STUPID IDIOT MOTHERFUCKING LESTAT LIONCOURT GOD DAMN FOOL BLOOD DRINKING DUST EATING RAT OLD BASTARD SHITHEAD IDIOT AVATAR OF THE WHORE BIGGEST CLOWN IN THE CIRCUS LAUGHED OUT OF TOWN COWBOY MOTHERFUCKING LESTAT LIONCOURTSTOP PINNING ME WHEN I TALK ABOUT LESTAT LIONCOURT I HATE HIM SO MUCH WHY DID HE TURN ALL THOSE PEOPLE WHY DID HE DECIDE TO FUCK AROUND AND FIND OUT JUST SET THEM LOOSE IS HE DEAD IS HE A BASTARD MAN HAS SUCH A VISCERAL AFFECT ON ME NOT EVEN ON THE SCREEN NEVER SEEN THIS MAN NAKED AND I KNOW HE HAS THE WORLDS SAMLLEST DICK GET AWAY FROM MEif i wanted to get into heaven and god said Lestat Lioncourt's waiting inside i would piss on gods feet for the sole purpose of getting sent back downif i have to deal with Lestat Lioncourt speaking one word in person on voice in an episode again not only will i close the tab i will delete my bookmark out of spite and have to rewatch the entire series again for the experience of being able to skip all the times when he is mentioned or alivei dont even know why i hate him so much but i am just mad because i am angyhe better have some fucked up backstory to explain this if hes just some rich shithead whos a fan of gay fanfiction and wanted the irl version ill go hamBETTER have had his sire make him kill a man cuz if he didnt Im going to make himpaypal.com/IFuckingHateLestatLioncourtScene is not even about him. vaguely showed what is supposed to maybe be his back and I lost itwhere the fuck is Lestat Lioncourt if hes still alive im going to so deeply wish he wasntcrusty old bitchill punch Lestat and his sad frail old vampire twig bones will simply flake apart under my epic huge meat fist and he will disintegrate until all thats left is one final book he kept on him at all times simply titled Now You Fucked Up in ancient yiddishim not breathing im hyperventilating at this pointi hope theres a date given for when Lestat died or will die so i can make it a reminder on my phoneeveryday once a year i will see it and do anything but pay respects to the man who did so many fucked up if true things

#I'm sorry #Or am I #interview with the vampire #iwtv s2 #lestat de lioncourt #vampire armand #louis de pointe du lac #daniel malloy #tma #tma podcast #jurgen leitner rant #iwtv #amc iwtv

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whitegownsandflowercrowns · 5 days ago

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My Rewatch 1x01: "The Heirs of the Dragon"

I do love the choice to start with the Great Council; it's what started this whole thing and there's a 99% chance of it coming out very clunky if you try to talk about it in expository dialogue.

I missed the opening titles this episode :(

Oh god I forgot how happy Rhaenyra and Alicent used to be. It's so much harder to watch their 1x01 scenes when you've watched everything after go down.

Also am I seeing things or was Rhaenyra very much checking out Alicent at the end of their first scene together?

When I watched Aemma and Rhaenyra's scene I thought it was kind of darkly funny how Rhaenyra essentially said "hey mom, are you feeling alright? no one's checked in on you" and Aemma basically responded "you are a womb for the crown." After watching the rest of Aemma's scenes, though, any humor is gone. I'll elaborate.

Did not think the first person I would want to kill Viserys for would be Rhaenyra. But seriously, there's no need to emphasize how you know this baby is a boy and how you're so excited to finally have a boy as many times as he does in this scene when your daughter is right there. UGGHHHH I hate him so much.

DAEMON SHE IS FOURTEEN STOP LOOKING AT HER LIKE THAT

Back to Aemma: something about her scenes that struck me so much harder this time is how much she clearly hates pregnancy, and how hard she's trying to convince herself that she doesn't. Her conversation with Rhaenyra? Trying to convince herself that to give birth to dead children over and over again is her duty, that there is something noble in this suffering. In her bath scene with Viserys she keeps making "jokes" about how awful pregnancy is ("at this point I may very well give birth to a dragon", "born wearing a crown? childbirth is painful enough.") Her book counterpart was married to Viserys at 11, and he only waited two years to start trying to get children out of her. It's unclear how old Show!Aemma is supposed to be, but if we're taking that as canon, she has known nothing else her entire life. She believes that this is her one task, her one duty, and so she must repress the fact that she clearly hates it. And then the fact that her one attempt to gain some autonomy is what led to her death...

Ok so fun fact I cannot watch the Gold Cloaks with a straight face anymore because when I showed @lovelybeautifulwasteland the show and we got to the scene of Daemon hyping them up she just said "it's giving they've explored each other's bodies" with no context and now that is the only thing I can think of so as they're all chanting I'm just laughing hysterically.

Once again, Alicent and Rhaenyra happily gossiping during the tourney is rough when you realize this is essentially the last time the two of them (especially Alicent) will ever truly be happy.

Also Rhaenyra holding Alicent's hand when she notices her picking at her skin...they love each other so much

FIRST LOOK AT CRISTON

Also Rhaenys I am so sorry that I have ever spoken against you. I am apologizing in advance for when I rewatch 1x02 (and maybe 1x09) and I will speak against her again. She doesn't deserve that. She does, but also she doesn't. I love her.

We got so many reaction shots of Laena during the tourney, and a few of her clutching Laenor's arm when she was shocked. I wish we could have seen so much more of their sibling relationship, I would have loved that.

Daemon asking for Alicent's favor immediately after knocking Gwayne out...I am praying for them to interact a lot in Season 3, there's so much potential there.

Aemma's death legitimately almost made me cry this time around because I think it finally truly hit me just how viscerally horrible it is. Viserys barely hesitates before asking "you can save the child?" She's so happy when he tells her that they're bringing the baby out, she thinks it's all going to be okay. And then when they hold her down and start cutting into her, she's so scared. She's so scared, and she doesn't know what's going on, and her husband who she's sacrificed child after child trying to do her duty for isn't doing anything to stop the maester from hurting her and he just keeps telling her that they're bringing the baby out and he loves her, and her final moments are spent in fear and confusion and pain. I hate Viserys so so much.

Also during the funeral, when Rhaenyra wonders if he finally experienced happiness for the few hours that Baelon was alive...I really do wonder, if Baelon had survived, if Viserys would have regretted it even half as much.

Look, I think, out of all of the main cast, Viserys did the most damage. But I do think that there is a really compelling argument that Otto is the single cruelest character in the entire cast. Daemon enjoys violence, sure, but he does care. In his own way. Otto doesn't even wait until the day after Aemma's funeral to immediately start pressing on the topic of heir, covering it all up under the (very very thin) veneer of the whole "I hate to bring it up now" act, and he sends his fourteen-year old daughter to Viserys' chambers literally hours later. He does love her, and he seems to care for Viserys, but he's just so, so cruel.

On that note, "you might wear one of your mother's dresses" really stuck out to me this time around, more so than "in his chambers?" Because let's be honest: the second Otto said "I thought you might go to him" Alicent knew damn well what the subtext of that was. But there was still the plausible deniability. She could convince herself that maybe her father really did just want her to comfort Viserys after a horrible loss. But "you might wear one of your mother's dresses?" There is absolutely no mistaking what the true intention of this visit is. Coupled with the sheerness of the dress in question, that it was clearly made for an adult woman...Otto you're going straight to hell with Viserys.

Alicent in this scene and the choices she makes also really stood out. Because, like I said, she knows that her father wants her to seduce Viserys. Maybe not in the moment right then and there, but he wants her to at least begin the process. She can't completely go against her father's wishes and sit in silence with Viserys, but she also doesn't want to seduce her best friend's father. So she plays it very carefully: she keeps a conversation rolling, but she makes sure that she's just being a friend. I feel so sad for her.

The fact that Viserys names Rhaenyra heir at most 48 hours after Aemma's death is really the worst part of her death. She died for absolutely nothing.

I will not become a Daemon fan. I will not become a Daemon fan. I will not become a Daemon fan. I will not become a Daemon fan.

Viserys' little spiel about control of the dragons being an illusion and how easily the Targaryens could tear themselves apart...it's THE THEMESSSS

I said a while back that I couldn't remember any moment in Season 1 that really said Mysaria was attracted to Daemon, but honestly? She has a few moments that make me think that she genuinely does like him, it's not just the money.

The ending to this episode is just SO good. Cutting between Viserys telling Rhaenyra about the Song of Ice and Fire, Alicent getting her ready for the ceremony, the heir ceremony itself...it's just so good.

Also tell me why I was tempted to cry when they played "A Song of Ice and Fire" over the credits, I just love this show so much and Ramin Djawadi is an actual genius.

#boys bugs and men by helaena targaryen #house of the dragon #the heirs of the dragon #hotd rewatch #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #rhaenicent #aemma arryn #daemon targaryen #anti viserys i targaryen #anti otto hightower

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