#i love talking about the bullshit that happens in my personal life it's very fun to me

[aritany]

sorry to be nosy, but do u have any insights as someone who went through a divorce at a young age?

don't be sorry - what a fascinating question! it's STORYTIME. i don't know if this is so much my 'insights' as it is ruminations, but i digress.

i guess my number one tip would be: don't marry a bigot,,,

i'm kidding. mostly.

i'm very transparent about why i got divorced (if you know me in real life, you know how true this is), but that's what it boiled down to. i got married VERY young, 95% due to deeply religious family on both sides, 5% because i truly believed i had found the person i was going to be with forever. if you're going to be together forever, why not just bite the bullet and get married young, right?

i came out to my ex-husband as bisexual super early on in our relationship (i think 2 months into dating) because i obviously needed him to a) know i was queer and b) be cool about it, and he was. if i recall, he said, "oh. ok, good for you."

(later, he told me that that moment was almost a dealbreaker for him. i NEVER would have known, based on how he reacted in the moment.)

as a married couple, we were awesome roommates and very good friends and overall a wonderful team. then i started properly deconstructing christianity around the same time i started thinking about gender, and covid hit immediately after. i didn't come out to anyone as nonbinary until march 2021, and when i did, he was the first person i talked to. he was... significantly less cool about it than he was with bisexuality.

here's the thing. he LOVED having a wife. in hindsight, it's really easy to see that i could have been anyone, and he was really ready to settle down. i have to give myself some credit, because i think i'm excellent, but i do think that to some extent i was in the right place at the right time and checked off a lot of his boxes. if that sounds a little cold to you -- a SHOCKING amount of cishet men do this. it's weird.

anyway, i was His Wife™, and while i was by no means a traditional christian wife, i was still a very she/her slay queen girly.

then i started committing sins. (got some tattoos. started writing about The Gays. started speaking out against the church. Cut My Hair Short [cue gasps]. started dressing more androgynously.)

he couldn't get his head around using gender neutral language for me. to his students (he was in education at the time) i was His Wife. to his family, i was His Wife, even after i came out to them too. classic wifeguy stuff.

my current partner (who is SO wonderful) was in the process of becoming that best friend you have really confusing gay feelings about, and had to deal with me talking about this and how i was just going to have to settle for being with this guy who wouldn't respect my gender, even when that disrespect started actually making my skin crawl when he'd get close. because hey, marriage is for life. it didn't even occur to me that we might get divorced until about 4 days before The Conversation. i was genuinely ready to stick it out with this guy who refused to really See me, because i thought that was what i had to do.

then came The Conversation. i'd been invited to be a bridesmaid in his sister's wedding and had agreed to wear a dress, because hey, it's her wedding. if she wants bridesmaids in dresses, sure. (i was still very much reeling from my own wedding, but that's another story i'll tell if anyone's curious.)

anyway. dresses. i go to a fitting. i stand there numbly while wearing the most godawful dress i'd ever seen, feeling like Garbage. i go home. i step in the door, i burst into tears. sobbing, on the couch, i tell him that something's not right. i can't wear a dress to this wedding.

i think that was when he realized i wasn't going to grow out of being nonbinary. we had a really long, brutal conversation, mostly about how i was probably going to want top surgery one day, that ultimately resulted in him ending our marriage.

"i can't make you be somebody you're not," he told me. "but you can't make me attracted to you."

that's right, folks! the thing that ended my marriage was my tits.

we'd sat through and endured many conversations in which i shared my feelings about the church, about christianity, about the patriarchy, about gender as a whole, but in the end, the thing he could not get his head around was a version of me that didn't have a chest.

i won't lie, that shit stung. the constant rejection of my gender expression had sort of eroded any romantic love i felt for him at that point, but he'd been my closest confidant for so long by that point that i really had to work through some shit about worthiness in the weeks after. it was just surreal to me that me With tits was good and worth being married to, but a hypothetical version of me with a flat chest was so repulsive that he'd rather end a marriage than endure it.

and like, i get being a boob guy (trust me), but damn.

p.s. some really interesting notes: he waited to have this conversation with me until literally the week after i received the first 5-figure portion of my book deal advance, which meant when we were settling affairs, it counted as "marital income" and he got half, and then he hired lawyers behind my back after we said we wouldn't do that.

in hindsight? maybe it was never about the tits at all. ;)

[orcelito]

God I don't wanna go to therapy tomorrow. Sick of talking about my feelings in a clinical setting. I do enough psychoanalysis just by myself, and now I gotta sit through it with someone else??? Come on.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Ginger Rogers (Swing Time, Top Hat)—Look I’ll level with you, I’ve never seen her in a musical and I know that she’s an amazing dancer and she’ll be even hotter when I finally watch Top Hat but I’m not submitting her as a dancer I’m submitting her as an ACTRESS. Her comic timing is impeccable!!!!! She’s full to bursting with life and in every role she seems to be having FUN, you can practically feel the twinkle in her eye. With her natural warmth it’s like she’s letting you in on the joke, y’all get to have this fun together! Making me laugh is hot!!! [If you'd like to see Ginger dance, videos below the cut]

Dorothy Lamour (The Jungle Princess, Road to… movies)—Ok, to be honest, I get if no one wants to vote for her--she's kind of like my ~problematic fave~ because she started in the Road (Singapore, Bali, Hong Kong, etc) movies with Bob Hope and Bing Crosby, which are full of all sorts of exoticism tropes and usually have her playing very side-eye type roles..island princesses and things...yeah. also she banged J. Edgar Hoover. not very hot. but your honor i still think she's pretty despite all that she's pretty please look at her and tell me she's prettyyy

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Dorothy Lamour propaganda:

She started in jungle and South Seas movies and became famous in the Road series. She learned quickly to improvise when facing Bob and Bing. Road to Bali almost has her character marrying both of theirs, since she's island royalty and nobody had a problem with it - a nearly poly relationship, an epiphany for a viewer who didn't even know that that could happen! She was a popular pinup girl during World War 2, and was the first singer for the popular standard "It Could Happen to You". She sang often in her movies and has a lovely voice!

Ginger Rogers propaganda:

She needs no introduction! An undeniable powerhouse on the dancefloor, and no less talented an actress. I once watched a compilation of cinema's greatest dance scenes and one of her and Fred Astaire's dances was featured, and one of the talking heads said he pitied her for 'having to keep up with him' - or something to that effect. Bullshit, I cry. Ginger Rogers was his absolute equal, and underplaying her incredible skill is downright criminal. I want the 'Cheek to Cheek' sequence from Top Hat to be permanently burned into my memory.

"Backwards in high heels", as the saying goes (though the pedant in me must point out that she in fact spent her fair share of time leading or dancing side-by-side). One of the earliest twinkle-toed ladies of the silver screen, and in terms of acting/persona, her balance of wide-eyed cuteness and movie-star glamour has never quite been replicated.

we all know her beloved string of musicals with fred but ginger also has an extensive and varied non-fred filmography that she's great in! a few ginger moments that are important 2 me personally ginger singing “we’re in the money” in gold diggers of 1933, complete with a verse in pig latin bc this whole movie is kinda mocking the concept of anyone actually being in the money in 1933; ginger and una merkel singing a verse of “shuffle off to buffalo” in 42nd street, providing some statler & waldorf-esque commentary on newlyweds from the upper berth of a railway car (interesting that belly was apparently a risque word in 1933 - maybe its bc the lyric is innuendo-ing about out of wedlock pregnancies - and that panties was a term for men’s underthings!); a favorite fred & ginger number

Ginger Rogers could do everything! She could sing, dance and act. She was hilarious in comedies, moving in dramatic roles (she won an Oscar for Kitty Foyle in 1940) and absolutely gorgeous!

Listen, no shade to Fred Astaire at all, but she both kept up with him step for step and then later went on to WIN AN OSCAR FOR ACTING. (which he did not.) truly a double threat!!!

One of the best dancers in Hollywood! Her work with Fred Astaire is just incredible.

ONE LINE: "Everything Fred did, Ginger did backwards and in heels" AND THEYRE RIGHT! Rogers was a total dance badass, and a lot of movie buffs know the story, but the Never Gonna Dance number from Swing Time took almost 50 takes, and allegedly by the end of filming it her white shoes had been stained pink because her feet were bleeding. As a note, she looks crazy gorgeous in this number. Watching these two dance is insane. They match up to each other in a way my mom describes as "divine" and she's right. DANCE NUMBERS!

Let's Call The Whole Thing Off (Shall We Dance, 1937, dancing starts at 3:14, they're in ROLLERSKATES)

(Ginger Rogers is the hottest woman ever to live in this number. seeing this as a teenager altered my brain chemistry)

(also watch her feet and how she moves opposite Astaire in this one. We all know our boy Freddie had that precision demon but jesus christ Miss Rogers, let a girl live!)

Pick Yourself Up, Swing Time 1936 (Everyone's seen this one but by god you are going to see it AGAIN!)

Shall We Dance, 1937 (duet begins at 2:34)

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes, Roberta 1935 (There's just something about Ginger Rogers in a slick black dress man)

The Continental, The Gay Divorcee 1934 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cjv6nmF7wdk God she's MAGIC in this one.

Gay Divorcee's Ending Montage 1934The infamous table and chairs spin happens at about 0:49. Pay CLOSE attention to her in this bc it looks like witchcraft and I feel lightheaded whenever I watch this movie bc shes THAT awesome.

She is a miracle to watch. Sorry for the sheer amount of clips. My entire family is like madly in love with Ginger Rogers.

[whenyouwishuponastar7]

Hi everyone!

I have to address something that has gone on and is currently occurring. This is the last thing I want to do because I have spent eight years in different fandoms and avoided as much drama as possible. I want no part in it. I want to enjoy my time here.

Unfortunately, this is no longer drama. This is about an individual harming people, their mental health, their safe spaces, their enjoyment of fandom, their favorite ship, and their writing. This is about an individual who chooses bigotry over friendship and will align themselves with bad people for popularity.

And they don’t care who they harm by doing it.

This person made my life a living hell for over five months. It started in August, but things took a turn in October. I was finally free of them in late February because that is when a fandom event ended that tied me to them.

During this event, this person stressed me out to the point of tears. They made passive-aggressive remarks about various things, which made me feel insecure about my fic and writing. They unexpectedly changed their medium and didn’t talk to me about it before they did; I admit I was taken aback, hurt, and short with them. I apologized and took accountability the following day.

From then on, I tried to be as supportive, kind and understanding as possible.

I was “pushy” in December and January because this person had not produced a single finished piece of their art, which would total ten pieces. I knew it was too late in January to get a pinch hitter, and I don’t care that I asked a few times how it was going when I had nothing. I handed them a completed fic on August 28th. They had nothing until mid-January (and almost didn’t make it to this deadline) but didn’t start the bulk of their work until late January 22nd and finished (except polishing and watermarking) on the 26th.

Final submissions were on January 31st.

It took them four days to do what they hadn’t done in five months. I asked if they needed an extension, and we got one because they were not done by the final submission day. I had watched another writer’s artist drop out at the last minute, and mods said they couldn’t find anyone to pinch-hit for them.

This experience was a bad one. I can’t express how shitty it felt. I didn’t write for three months during it, and the fics I’ve written since then aren’t very good. I also have watched my readership disappear—getting the hits and kudos I did before October stopped.

I had a feeling this individual might have been involved if they were talking about me, but I thought I was being paranoid. I still may be, but since this has all happened, I have started to regain readers. I find that interesting.

Anyway! This whole thing ended, and it was bitter for me. I don’t have any more enjoyment in this fandom. I love my ship, but I currently have no desire to write them. I’ve been depressed and I’m scarred from fandom events. This person took away my joy when I only wanted to participate in a fandom event with my friends and have fun.

Because fandom is supposed to be fun, it’s not supposed to do this to people. It’s insane that it does this to people, and I never wanted to be involved in this bullshit.

This person has gone on to enjoy other fandom events, write and produce art, and seems to be doing fine.

Through small but interesting events, I started to learn about this individual’s ‘perspective’ on the entire thing with me. And, hoo boy, it was a fucking ride.

I am still shocked, amazed, flabbergasted and kinda pissed off about how this person lied about me. Everything they said was a complete lie. They shared my DMs via screenshots out of context, warped what we were talking about to play the victim and get sympathy, and flat-out lied numerous times. I have been accused of forcing them to do things during the event when I have screenshot proof that never happened.

For everything this individual accused me of, I provided screenshots to tell the fucking truth.

Two people have told me the same phrasing: they made me out to be a monster.

A monster.

If anyone knows me, my character, they know I’m not a goddamn monster. I try to keep my head down, stay in my lane, play in my sandbox corner, enjoy my ships, and have fun with my friends.

To be called a monster or to have someone say, ‘you’re nothing like they made you out to be,’ is the most surreal moment of my adult life.

This is fiction, fandom; it’s not real, and not everyone makes a living off it. It’s a hobby, and it’s supposed to be enjoyable. Once we step away from our computers and phones, no one knows us as so and so, writer or artist of Ship. Meanwhile, this person is making me out to be the worst human being alive, and it is absolute insanity to learn how deep it goes.

The twists and turns, the lies, the complete lack of reality, the delusion. It’s creepy and disturbing. And, through finding all of this out, I pieced together a pattern of behavior that this individual has:

When you do something they don’t like, they distance themselves, become cold and passive-aggressive, and hold themselves above you. You are no longer of use to them. They dangle their friendship and attention on a lure, hoping you’ll bite, only to throw you back under.

Please understand that this is a dangerous thing—this is not fandom drama—this is a dangerous individual, and the person with whom they choose to spend their time speaks volumes.

I will not share names or screenshots. Screenshots have been shared with the right people, and I will not make it a public spectacle. I also choose to protect the privacy of my friends and others involved in this, of which there are many.

I have been accused of forcing this individual to do things, hating them and their work, being extremely pushy and stressing them out, and that my server was unwelcoming and the people in it were unkind, and various other things. Small things that didn’t mean anything to me were taken extremely personally and made into more lies to make this person a victim.

Such as my preferred formatting for posting my fic links on tumblr. They did not respect it, even though I attempted to respect their formatting for posting their art numerous times earlier, but I was told not to stress about it and, you guessed it—accused of forcing them to change things behind my back. Again, screenshots have been given to the right people.

This individual can delete everything, but we have our proof, as we have been gathering it. We will not publicly share anything, but if this individual decides to, we have the evidence to back it all up.

There were so many creepy and fucked up things that happened. I can’t list them without getting too personal, but please understand this person does not belong in our fandom.

They chase popular people, especially artists, to ‘collect’ them and lie to and manipulate their friends for sympathy. Their friends need to step away and see the light because they are being used—it’s not a real friendship. It is transactional.

And you should be offended. They will cast you aside when you’re useless to them, too.

If I seem mad, it’s because I am. I have been dealing with this since August, when I realized that many of their comments were strange. I didn’t know those were red flags at the time. This individual pretends to be friendly and claims to be ‘the nice one’ when things go wrong so they can keep their reputation. Interactions with them might seem harmless, but looking at them with a different scope makes them something far different.

Don’t ignore red flags or gut instincts.

This is my story, and it is not told exactly how I wish I could tell it. But I know this individual has hurt numerous other people. I was going to make this post without the ability to reblog, but I am leaving it open for now.

If you want to add your story, as I suspect many of you know who I am speaking of, please do. I ask that you avoid telling anyone else’s stories for them unless you have permission. Protect each other.

This stupid shit unites us. I’m not afraid anymore because I’m sick of watching my friends get hurt again and again.

This individual has befriended a known bully and transphobic person. I won’t speak any further on this because it is not my story, but please bear in mind that they chose a TERF over trans friends. And we know what they say about association.

Blindsided victims of this individual are not at fault for this person’s actions.

See something, say something. Terfs and bullies can GET FUCKED.

Share your story.

[maxiskindahere]

Hell is forever | Lute x F!Reader

i’ve become obsessed w Hazbin Hotel recently and well where’s better to write than Tumblr!

I also love x readers and Lute so this is a fun time xx

i also haven’t written in a WHILE so this is not my best work but i promise im better xx

————

CW: swearing, sexual comments

Lute was an interesting person, she wasn’t typically the type of person you’d get in with. But since meeting her & Adam, you are sure that your life has improved… to an extent.

——

“Hey, Y/N! Don’t you think Lute would so much better with less on?” Adam teases as you walk into his office “Adam, you are going to be the first man with no dick if you don’t shut up.” Y/N deadpans, plopping down beside Lute on the couch

“You’re no fun, Y/N” Adam complains, throwing his head back with a groan “I just know that if I agree with you, Lute is very much able to fuck me up.”

You know of the exterminations, and you know Lutes body count. Being on her bad side is not something you wanted.

“Please, Lute’s too busy st-“ Adam is cut off with a yelp as Lute throws something at him “Shut up, Adam.” She hisses, glaring daggers at him “Fine fine” He mutters, flipping her off as you look between them in confusion

“So what happened in Hell?” You decide to ask, knowing the extermination had happened just a week prior. “Well we had a talk with Lucifers bitch daughter today.” Adam begins in a rant about how “Charles” decided to talk about how she wants the exterminations gone and some bullshit hotel

“She seriously thinks sinners can be redeemed?” Y/N questions, leaning forward “What does Sera think about this?” Adam scoffs, rolling his eyes

“she doesn’t know, it’s not like it’s going to cause problems anyways.”

——

Adam was wrong. It was definitely going to cause problems, but that wasn’t her issue. So, she continued on with her day while waiting for the time to come when she’d meet Lute for lunch.

“Sorry!” A voice exclaims as Y/N feels someone crash into her “Fuck!” She yelps out, quickly spinning around to be met with two demons and Emily, the seraphim of joy.

The h/c girl quickly straightens up “Seraphim Emily! What… are you doing here?” She splutters out, glancing nervously at the demons “Oh hush, Y/N. You know you can call me Em when Sera isn’t around” Emily informs the girl with a happy smile.

“Right well.. Em, what is.. going on?” She questions the seraphim, still glancing between the demons “Right! This is Charlie and Vaggie! They’re representatives from Hell!” The girl cheerfully explains

Y/N’s eyes widen “Holy crap! You’re the princess aren’t you?” She asks Charlie, whose face flushes “Yep, that’s me..!” She says awkwardly before taking Vaggies hand in hers “This is my girlfriend, Vaggie” She introduces with a soft smile

Y/N grins “I knew gay people went to he-“ She’s cut off by Emily wacking her lightly “I’m kidding! That’s sick, congrats” She says softly, fluttering her wings

“So, you here about this.. hotel thing?” Y/N questions, crossing her arms together “How do you know about that?” Emily quizzes the girl who pauses for a second “Uh, Lute told me!” She quickly states, rubbing her arm

Emily’s eyes widen “please tell me you two are-“ Before Emily can continue, Y/N spots Lute approaching the four “Respectfully, your majesty please stop” Y/N hisses out as Lute reaches them

“Y/N, where have you been?” Lute asks the girl, anger clear in her voice “Sorry, I ran into these lovely girls and you know how I feel about ditching people” Y/N states innocently, smirking at the anger in Lutes eyes “And you know how I feel about waiting, finish up here and meet me in my office.” Is all the taller girl says before departing

“She seems.. nice.” Charlie says after a few moments of silence “Oh she is, I just don’t think she likes demons” Y/N comments, she knew Emily was unaware of the exterminations and she was not about to admit that she knew to anyone.

“I’m not sure why, you two are lovely” Emily pouts, causing Charlie and Vaggie to give her light smiles “But uh, I better go.. Lute will be a pain if I keep her waiting much longer” She says, excusing herself as she bids farewell to the trio and makes her way to Lute’s office

“Hey..” Y/N says awkwardly, walking into the unlit office before being slammed against the now shut door “I can’t believe you!” Lute exclaims, glaring down at Y/N

“What did I do?” The girl yelps out, feeling the pain rush to her wings “You’re talking with Vaggie! Of all people!” Suddenly everything made sense.

Lute was always fighting for Adam’s favouritism with Vaggie. She was better than Vaggie in every way, but until Vaggies betrayal Adam couldn’t see it.

Since then, the girl had some serious issues with abandonment.

“Oh cmon Lute! You know I don’t care about that failure” Y/N tries to reassure as she feels Lutes heavy breathing hit her face “I only care about you, I promise” Y/N says softly as she notices Lutes eyes soften

“Sorry.” Lute mutters, still holding Y/N against the door “I know a way you can make it up to me” Y/N mumbles, looking down at Lutes lips before glancing back up at her eyes which were wide in surprise before slowly leaning down and capturing the angels lips.

Y/N quickly reciprocates the kiss, wrapping her arms around Lutes neck and pulling her closer, desperate to have the girl closer to her.

But before anymore could be done, Adam suddenly barges in knocking the two away from each other

“The trials starting, come on.”

—

[memelleity]

abigail sentence starters

i’m sorry about what’s gonna happen to you.

our game ends here.

how many bodies we talking?

i thought i heard someone out here.

let’s just leave. get the fuck out of dodge.

i love you so much. and i’m so proud of you.

vampire on my ass! vampire!

a deal’s a deal.

i can smell your blood.

i like your tattoos. do they have a meaning, or…

you got bullied in school? probably by dad, too. so when you got bigger than everyone else, you turned the tables.

i’ve always hated this room. lot of painful memories.

you’ve made a mistake.

are you lying to me?

so, you got a boyfriend or… something like that?

what’s happening?

___’s not here.

promise me you’re not gonna let anybody hurt me?

you’re the one good thing i did in life. and i just needed you to hear that.

what can i say? i like playing with my food.

you in recovery or something? how many days you got?

my dad, well… he thought he wanted a child, but then he just lost interest.

please, please let me out.

you literally got nothing right.

can we not do this, please?

you’re not as smart as you think you are.

i saw the way you were looking at me earlier.

all right, let’s go kill us a fuckin’ vampire.

i’m scared.

you don’t get your hands dirty and tell yourself that makes what you do not as bad. good luck when the illusion wears off.

fucking bullshit. it’s not about the money. the money’s an excuse.

you backstabbing son of a…

i couldn’t sleep. i heard something.

here’s the thing about being a vampire. it takes a long fucking time to learn how to do all the cool shit.

something doesn’t add up.

listen, you sit here and bleed… or you trust me.

i didn’t mean to scare you.

you want to have some fun? all right. let’s have some fun.

you’re just in time for dinner.

there’s a secret door in the library. the bookshelf on the right wall.

why do you have a dick on your face?

this whole thing is a trap.

you’re so bloody and so gross.

getting shot hurts!

how much do you trust ___?

shut the fuck up!

oh, you’re a fucking priest now?

i came when you needed me. i’m here now.

i don’t scare easy. so when i do, i pay attention.

i feel like i got bit by a fucking vampire!

tell me one true thing about me.

what color are my eyes?

i can’t breathe.

i just, um… i can’t do it.

if this is about revenge, why didn’t you just kill us?

you fucking set me up.

the hard part is already over.

with that money… i can start over, you know?

that wasn’t a lie.

i like you. you’re scary, though.

god, everybody’s got to be a fucking victim now.

if you fucking say, ‘i told you so’…

you could be the richest headless man in america.

i don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, but you don’t sound very calm right now.

you’re mine. you’re mine.

wow. you got a lot going on up there, but your brain’s not quite putting it together, huh?

do you have any kids?

nothing different about you. nothing special. just something to help me pass the time.

___ was here when you weren’t.

i just want to get to the bottom of this, you know?

i’ve had a few centuries of experience.

we got a real fucking situation here. so i don’t give a shit what you think. either you’re helping us, or you’re dead weight.

i feel sick.

i’d really prefer not to have to fucking shoot you.

this is so fucking disgusting.

you changed your name, you left town, and you never saw your family again… but it wasn’t for their safety, was it?

keep an eye on the door.

you grew up with a bunch of brothers and sisters, huh?

you’re gonna be a real pain in my ass, aren’t you?

looking for some light reading?

i’m not gonna touch you.

can you take the blindfold off? it’s really tight.

this isn’t the time for sarcasm, okay?

let’s watch each other’s backs.

that’s an urban legend. calm down.

i fucking hate ballet.

you shot me! you shot me!

i brought you here to offer you a deal.

just had to do your little magic trick, didn’t you?

you think i could do that?

maybe it’s worth a try.

you’re my friend.

wow. you might be the least perceptive person i’ve ever met.

i’m sorry. did i hit a fucking nerve?

no. i’m not betting our lives on your fucking hunch.

we’ve got to get out of here. there’s got to be another way.

i’ve gone by many names over the countless years.

you can have anything you fucking want.

bite me.

what the fuck?

[conceptofjoy]

how do u imagine the Dynamic between dave and davepeta postgame. ik ur more of a dsprite fan than dp but i think it could/would be Very fascinating. plays a role in cracking daves eggy loking thign

i love both very dearly :) i draw dsprite a lot more partly bc of the self imposed sprite rules i made for my pc au. seb’s an exception, lets just say some kind of splinter bullshit happened lol.

pre retcon dave had that convo w jade abt ds. the way he talked abt him’s can be easily summarized by saing “hes me when it’s beneficial and not me when it makes me uncomfortable/ makes me need to confront some things.”

he’d totally just compartmentalize any interactions in that way lmfao. oh so youre a catbird sprite thing? alright im an ally do your thing bro i mean they. nepeta’s side of things wants to just PRY him open and the dave side’s like this is going to be so much fun. dps wants to fuck with him SOOO badly but also doesnt want him to run away from the egg crackification process. dave keeps avoiding dps not so casually but jade keeps looking at him disappointedly so they have to hang out. jade knows that theyre pulling something’s so tells dps to ease up on dave but thats literally an impossible ask.

dps explains some stuff about the gender thing bc dave is only casually interested. totally.

DAVE: so like a boy and a girl came together to make a nonbinary person?

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B//< ummm

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< something like that!

DAVE: i dunno it seems pretty clear cut

DAVE: oh shit unless the bird also had some kinda bird gender and shook things up

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: >B33< yeah i had to do all kinds of gender maths as soon as i came into existence

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< did you know bird gender and cat gender cancel each other out?

DAVE: no shit?

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< no that was a joke dump ass!

DAVE: i knew that

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< sure

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< well i dont think the bird had anything to do with the gender maths. or the sword

DAVE: sword gender…

DAVE: wait wasnt the bird a mama bird?

DAVE: seemed pretty intent on keeping our game egg to herself remember?

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B00< ohhh yeah

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< my bad

DAVE: you remember being a bird???

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< no comment

DAVE: oh shit thats not very dave of you

DAVE: any dave i know would jump right into a whole spiel about how tough life is as a single bird mom

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: >B33< well dave thats because… im not you!

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< we went over this before! lets go back to the gender thing

DAVE: yeah yeah

DAVE: ok gender

DAVE: so a human boy a troll girl a bird mom and a sword walk into two kernel sprites

DAVE: wait shit do the kernel sprite have genders too?

DAVE: kernel gend-

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: XOO< holy shit i think i get what equius went through

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< do you see what youre doing to me dave? youre making me sympathize with a sweaty and incredibly silly 13 year old troll boy

DAVE: haha youre funny as shit

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< thank you

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< yeah while the other components probably added some other gender stuff

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< it was mostly dave and nepeta’s gender that influenced mine

DAVE: yeah alright

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< like nepeta for example

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< grew up away from society and barely had to deal with the caste system

DAVE: sure

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< theres specifc roles assigned to each gender and caste but nepeta just didnt get the memo

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< despite the friend group being a pretty non hemoist

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B??< hemoist?

DAVE: sure hemoist

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< well despite the group being all “who gives a crap about your blood color and gender”

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< nepeta still felt like there was just something no one decided to tell him that dictated every interaction he had with everyone else

DAVE: yeah i totally get tha-

DAVE: wait “him”?

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< …

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: ‘833< what?

DAVE: wait was nepeta a boy???

DAVE: oh shit how did no one ever correct me this whole time-

DAVE: no wait pause

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: ‘B33< paws

DAVE: paws

DAVE: no stop that

DAVE: if nepeta’s a boy and im a boy…

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: ‘B33< …

DAVE: were you lying about the bird gender thing or???

DAVEPETASPRITE^2:

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< yes dave. i really am part boy gender and part bird mom gender

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33< *SIGH* i think thats enough for today. i tried my best

DAVE: huh?

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM TASKMASTER SEASON 16 *  assorted dialogue from the tv show, adjust as necessary

you look so nice, but underneath it all, you're just a shit.

it's just exciting to know people are talking about me.

i don't want to be in there with some wet guy.

oh, i'm gonna push this bitch.

are you a child of divorce?

to this day, i don't know what vibe i give off.

i know it's annoying, but it's all i've got so... just let me have it.

i've never done that.

i'm actually quite good with a sword.

this is one of the most exhausting things i've ever done.

why didn't i just draw a cock and balls?

i don't know why i said that, 'cause i don't really regret it.

you're easy to look at than i am.

oh, you're here. what a thrill.

you absolute anus!

you've got a friend?

would it be mischievous to say things that i'm not supposed to say?

can i just say, i love weapons.

you made me say every country in europe.

do you have a license?

if i do nothing else in this life, that was worth it.

[name], the heat is on.

what sort of cool things do you want?

stick that in your pipe.

i knew what had happened, and even i was swept along by the narrative.

it was avant-garde. it was french cinema.

good luck with your career.

bit late for a banana.

it was very, very cold that day and i wanted to get it over with.

is that your starting position?

i knew it was something boring.

don't have to tell me twice.

it is the least sexy thing that anyone's ever said to anyone.

i don't like going upside down.

what have i done? oh dear. what have i done?

it's nice, it's harmless, it's warm.

this thing is disgusting.

that's useless. that's worse than useless.

i also agree with them. you are sick.

your pie technique was dreadful.

i really like it when you're disappointed in us.

oh, is there a fire? how awful.

nothing going through my head is family friendly. not one idea.

lovely legs, sir!

you got a problem?

that was heterosexual male banter.

are you a superstitious person?

it's too late for that.

do i just choose a name?

i can drive people crazy.

that is a true story, and i feel a bit sick.

i bought it to annoy my husband 'cause i thought he'd hate it.

i'm well-presented, very smart, and available for no-strings fun round the back of the barracks.

what room am i in?

what's your favorite number?

why is there smoke?

running a business is bullshit.

when i think exercise, i think exorcism.

we're not allowed to work with nature?

we were at a wedding together once, and i made you eat a whole pat of butter.

obviously you want to put it on a penis.

are you joking me?

is this something that would excite a heterosexual?

you're going to get a lot of letters.

i'm gonna go for plan b and just throw some things.

is this your stage persona, or is this what you're like?

i don't know what you mean.

you can hide in there waiting for your victims.

i'm sorry, i nearly killed you.

is it appropriate to call him "sir?"

i just really like the idea of stuffing a massive stick up a mannequin's arse and rotating it like a rotisserie chicken.

i was made for this.

i was told by an ex that i have the hands of a midwife.

is that a compulsive disorder of some kind?

what an absolute shower of shits you are.

[archangeldyke-all]

HIIII. I’m gonna like try one last time to make a request cause I understand you said there’s something up with your inbox and idk if like tumblr keeps eating mine but anyways—

How about sevika with a reader who’s fucking hilarious/super nice and makes her laugh but when it comes to actually being alone with sevika they are horrible at eye contact and are like supppperrr shy and embarrassed.

Especially like during their first time together (✂️✂️), THE GIRL CANT EVEN SPEAK.

I wonder if sevika would be patient- or if she would be the one to say she’s inlove first.

Idk but it’s up to you to answer this so ofc as alwayyyssss I hope you have annnn amazing day!

tumblr always manages to delete the cutest fucking suggestions thank u for sending this in again omg

men and minors dni

you're the life of the fucking party. no matter you go, you manage to make a friend. you've always got people laughing, you've always got a funny story to tell, and you can keep a conversation with a brink fucking wall. sevika thinks you're fucking amazing, the funniest person she's ever met.

she also thinks you hate her.

when you're alone with sevika, you're completely silent.

she thinks you've got something against her, and she's desperate to make it up to you somehow.

which leads to her being extraordinarily nice to you. which only leads to you being more awkward and standoffish around her.

you can't fucking help it. she's the most attractive woman you've ever met, you just can't help how tongue tied and shy you get around her.

it takes you guys a long fucking time to figure it out.

six months-- six months of sevika being incessantly nice to you, and you basically being silent to her-- and sevika finally gets fed up.

"look-- i don't know what i did to you-- but can you please just fucking tell me so i can figure out a way to make it up to you?" she asks one night at the bar. ran just left-- leaving you and sevika to sit in the typical awkward silence that follows the two of you around.

you blink at her. "what are you talking about?" you ask. she groans.

"oh for fuck's sake! you never fucking talk to me! i've seen you hold conversations with toddlers longer than you hold conversations with me! i don't get it! what did i do to you that makes you so fucking quiet around me?" she asks. you blink again, embarrassment creeping up your spine.

"y-you haven't done anything--"

"--oh bullshit--"

"--except be very attractive." you finish. sevika freezes, your sentence catching up to her. you bite your lip. "you're... incredibly hot. it... kinda makes my brain... mush." you finish.

sevika blinks at you in shock for about five seconds, before a cocky smirk ticks up at the corner of her mouth. "is that so?" she asks, sitting back in her seat and eyeing you in an entirely new light. you gulp.

"shut up." you mutter. sevika chuckles.

"oh... this is fucking amazing." she says, grinning at you.

the first time you guys fuck, you keep trying to hide your face behind your hands. sevika fucking loves it, laughing down at you and smacking your hands away as she grinds her cunt against yours.

"show me that pretty fuckin' face, baby." she says. you whimper.

"s-sev." you whisper. she chuckles.

"fuck happened to you, huh? where'd all those words go? y' were talking up a storm earlier to silco-- makin' fun of me all night long-- what happened?" she asks.

you just whine. she laughs evilly, then ducks down to press her lips against yours.

she never stops teasing you about your uncharacteristic shyness around her. ever.

even when you're trying to tell her you love her.

"w-would you stop looking at me like that?" you ask. sevika smirks. she's got you on her lap, her hands on your waist. you had told her you wanted to tell her something important, and she had sat the two of you on the couch like this, as if her thumbs drawing circles on your hips wouldn't distract you at all.

"keep going... 'we've been dating for a few months now'...?" she prompts, starting where you had left of before she started smirking at you like that.

"w-we've been dating for a while and i-i wanted to tell you that..." you trail off again, your eyes locked on where her tongue is licking across the top row of her teeth as she grins.

"that?" she asks. you sigh shakily, and sevika chuckles.

"you're a fucking asshole." you mumble. she bursts into laughter and darts forward to kiss your lips.

"ouch, babe." she says. you roll your eyes at her. "you shoulda told me that before we spent so much time together-- woulda saved you a whole lotta trouble."

"fuck off." you grunt. she pinches you hip and you huff.

"c'mon, tell me." she says. "i'll stop." she promises, miming zipping her lips shut. you roll your eyes at her and look away.

"i love you." you mumble.

sevika's quiet for a moment, and you gulp. then, her finger is under your chin, guiding you to look back at her.

she's grinning, and your anxiety melts away.

"i love you too." she says.

your stomach does a somersault, and you lean forward to bury your face against her shoulder. "oh fuck." you mumble. she chuckles, her hand coming up to rub your back.

"you're so fucking cute it kills me a bit." she says. you huff against her.

"i hate what you do to me." you groan.

"oh yeah? because last night you seemed to like it quite a--"

"shut up sevika!" you cry. she just laughs.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki

[elderwisp]

My 𝐓𝐨𝐩 24 𝐒𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬 from 2024 ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

I was tagged by @mikachusblog @aurorangen and @moonwoodhollow however I put together a recap earlier this month! Instead I'll pick about ten story moments I enjoyed from this year under the cut as well as a very special screenshot. I did want to make sure I tagged some people as well! :D

I tag: @acidheaddd @likelyamused @pink-chevalier @changingplumbob @salemssimblr

@matchalovertrait @lre333 @swiftviolets @sirianasims @lynzishell

1. January 8th: Kai shares a secret

⋆ This was a really fun flashback scene! We got to see Kai, Frances, Dan and Atlas in the earlier years of high school as well as learn that Kai has romantic feelings towards Atlas, who happens to be his first kiss! This is also where his arc officially begins in my mind!

2. March 6th: Taryn's skepticism

⋆ I remember being so proud of this scene because it was one of the first scenes I fully posed the conversation. I really enjoyed of Atlas and Taryn's mannerisms peaked through. I think this conversation while it focuses on a different subject, the nature of it shows their personalities. Taryn struggling with self confidence while Atlas's facade starts to unveil just a bit.

3. March 12th: Frances's solo

⋆ I was really proud of these poses as well as the shots. The shots of Icarus and Frances while romantic do say a lot about how each views each other. Your greatest heartbreak being how Frances feels and the deepest regret being how Icarus feels. For the cello poses, I did reference through watching performances but also real life so it was neat combining the two. I am excited for Frances's future in De Sol Valley especially when new faces are introduced to the cast. It might be similar to Atlas's prologue where Frances is the focus but just in a shorter interval.

4. March 9th: A rose and it's bumblebee

⋆ March was a good month. Maybe not for the characters, but a good month creatively for me ! I'm gonna sound so toxic but I love the tension between these two so much like hold out a bit longer please JUSTKIDDINGPFFTorami? anyways structuring taryn's monologue came out of order. the frames where she says "A stubbed toe. A scraped knee. A fall." came first. Everything else was built around those three sentences. The scene following that was fun to put together because Atlas really does struggle to apologize and take ownership over his fuck up that he tries to smooth things over by being charming but Taryn, getting more comfortable, shows her newfound skill of setting boundaries (courtesy of Atlas LMAO) and calls him out on the bullshit.

5. August 9th: Theo's official introduction

⋆ Much of Theo's life is hush hush as following after the WR arc we dive more into their lives but I do want to talk more about them. I liked following their life throughout the day and the general reclusiveness they have in a new city. Their only friend at the time is Gabriel and with no goals of going back to their old life, the only way forward is through. I will say, something about the city has a way of helping people find themselves.

6. August 8th: Of course I had to freaking include this scene

⋆ Gonna be so real right now but I was terrified to post this. Terrified. We see the chaos of Atlas's vices revealing a very important detail, one Rowan reminded us all and that is, Atlas seeks out trouble. The most curious and pressing part is why and how does it end? Any scene with Atlas is scary for me because he leaves a lot of subtle little hints but the extent of his nature is like slowly pulling off a band aid. Are people gonna like what's underneath? I'm never really sure but I do enjoy exploring his character quite a bit.

7. September 3rd: Ojitos lindos

⋆ First, I love Jules. Dude was literally supposed to only be in the one scene and... He wiggled himself into a handful. Second, was very proud of how the dance came out, with Taryn teasing Jules and Jules chasing every second of it until the kiss. OUGH! The little fiend in me blurred out "tu y yo" in the kiss scene to sorta symbolize Taryn beginning to move on from Atlas but as we see later, that was short lived. Taryn's monologue was the easiest to write and it comes from a person struggling with the bitter emotions of heartbreak.

8. October 8th: A formal introduction to Ares's life

⋆ Little lore drop but the Langs have been longtime characters of mine. In fact, longer than everyone else. Chase, Ares's father, was a main character of a youtube series I made long ago over the summers of my school days LMAO! So to revisit and restructure them as has been... WOW ! I wanted everyone to feel like they were a plant on a shelf observing the dynamics of specifically the women in Ares's life as well as the structure of his home. It felt subtle but good :)

9. October 18th: Kai's revelation

⋆ I think I have one more scene left for Kai's arc. I specifically wanted to focus on the concepts of jealousy, cognitive dissonance and religion coupled with Kai being a closeted man. I will say in the beginning, I did struggle to connect with this character. While some elements I can totally relate to, writing about it is different. Envy can be classified as an ugly feeling. It isn't palatable to most and is quickly shood away but because of that, we don't talk about it enough. So I wanted to go into this really humanizing this common emotion but not making it as some caricature of an emotion. I do love Kai's growth, I wanted to make sure he earned it and it sure feels like it.

10. November 23: The freaking arts festival

⋆ There's still like four-ish more posts to go. Those will be a bit less crash-out packed but I think it ends on a high note. There's a lot in these six posts. Some of it slightly nudging certain characters arcs, other parts deepening your knowledge of other oc's. I wanted to start out on the disappointment that Atlas faces seeing that the only person supporting him there is Daniela and how he copes in the only way he knows how. The arts festival is something he helped put together but it seems to be a reoccurring theme that any accomplishment he ever has is always overshadowed. It's always something. Each frame, every detail, to the dialogue in these two posts are intentional. The following scenes after that have some really cool conversations. I think the last post also has some unique dialogue as well but we'll pick back up on January 2nd! :)

Also a bonus! I wanted to show one of these first photos of Tessellate. It's no longer on my blog after the reboot but I wanted to show how much has changed in two years.

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Day 47

. . . 

Okay so i’m gonna level with you here. I think i’ve been underselling the degree of brainrot this ship was giving me. Like sure, drawing 100 fucking days worth of art and then some is pretty brainrotted, but I really don’t think that gets the point across.

This, and technically the last piece (which I now have thoughts on, because comedy) are the very first times I have EVER drawn Angsty Shipping art. If you’ve seen me draw Angsty Ship art (which i’m certain I haven’t done outside of this ship, but I also have a very bad memory), it was after I made this. 

I’ve lived a life basking in fluffy romantic content, I would occasionally read Hurt/Comfort fics, but never pure hurt fics. And still I would almost always gravitate more towards fluff. And this of course reflects in my art, for as long as I have drawn art of girls kissing, it has always been cozy, wonderful fluff. 

And then Junkan happened. And slowly, slowly it was chipping at my mind without me realizing, and then something fuckin snapped in my brain. And then I drew this, an angsty Junkan comic. Is it any good??? That’s for you to fuckin decide, me personally I’m still happy with it but I also have very little to work off in my repertoire to say whether I know what the fuck I’m doing or not. 

I don’t know if I had a full concept in mind for what was going on in Junko’s mind when I drew that pic. But what eventually came to me was the idea of Junko having to grapple with one of the aspects of feeling love that I imagine she wouldn’t be geared up. In the very first Junkan pic, which I don’t consider angst personally, I talked about how I liked the idea of Junko being scared of feeling love, I didn’t elaborate on it too much since I was still getting used to writing these posts. 

I think Day 46 makes for a great example of that. 

The thought process I had was that Junko having just come to feel real romantic feelings for Mikan, would have to realize she could at any point lose Mikan, and just having to contemplate that.

And this comic is the follow up, partially inspired by a desire to just depict Junko having a breakdown. I don’t know why I keep doing the role reversal for this ship, first it’s Vampire Mikan, now it’s Mikan emotionally comforting Junko. What’s next, Mikan being taller than Junko???

Also here’s a fun fact, there is like, as far as I can remember, no actual art of Mikan having to be comforted by Junko in this project. I don’t know why I never fucking did that? Sorry Junko you’re the only one dealing with bullshit here I guess.

Also whether the comic itself is of any actual quality or merit here, I’m still at the bare minimum very proud of Junko’s expressions in this. Like i’m actually jealous of my past self because I’m not sure how well I could recreate these kinds of emotions visually if I tried again. 

As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~

[scoobydoodean]

Something fun for you to ponder. When Sam was soulless, Bobby thought there was a chance that, "This is just Sam." I think it's because Sam tends to perform empathy somewhat selectively, at times more cognitively than emotionally. Do I personally think it's a neurodivergent trait? Yes, I do. BUT. It's hilarious to me that Bobby looked at soulless Sam and thought, "Hmm. There's a good chance that's just Sam." No?

Ho ho! Very interesting.

From 6.06 "You Can't Handle the Truth":

DEAN I don't know how much longer I can do this, Bobby. You got to figure out what the hell he is and fast. BOBBY I'm trying. But, Dean, there's a worst-case scenario. DEAN What, Satan's my co-pilot? Yeah, I know. BOBBY Well, that'd be the other worst case. DEAN Well, then what? BOBBY Maybe it's just Sam

Notably: This happens before anyone knows Sam is soulless and before Sam has admitted that he doesn't feel anything, but after Sam has let Dean get attacked and turned by a vampire.

I don't think that Bobby disagrees with Dean that Sam is acting different from before (I think that's why he calls it a worst case scenario). Sam has been putting everybody on edge, not just Dean (Samuel says that Sam scares him in 6.07). I think what Bobby is considering is that Sam simply isn't the same person after The Cage—that Sam compartmentalized his emotions to deal with the trauma—turned himself into a stone cold killing machine as a coping tool—and now Sam doesn't know how to warm back up to feeling anymore or caring about anyone or anything (or maybe can't because it's still too raw). Bobby's considering the idea that Sam may have simply cracked open and spilled his emotions out on the floor somewhere and left them behind... which ironically, is pretty much what happened?

Bobby is aware of similar (though less extreme) behavior from Sam in the past in coping with trauma. In fact, he arguably knows this side of Sam better than Dean does. Sam ghosted Bobby while Dean was in hell (and for months in 3.11 "Mystery Spot", though Bobby doesn't remember that). It wasn't that Sam stopped feeling (he was full of anguish and rage), but he did push Bobby away and focus obsessively on revenge, hunting like a machine. Sam pushed away the potential to talk through Dean's death with someone else who loved Dean and understood a lot of the grief Sam was feeling because it opened him up to a dangerous amount of vulnerability.

This is very John-coded behavior from Sam and it doesn't represent a lack of emotion as much as it represents "I feel so much that I cannot stand the idea of touching that emotion or I will break". It's a refusal to engage with and feel certain emotions, because if he did, he wouldn't be able to get up. Anger is fuel that burns hot and keeps you moving, but grief and fear can rip the life from you.

Consider even John's way of dealing with the worry he perpetually felt about Sam. Yelling and telling Sam never to come back when Sam wanted to go to school, making the fight all about betrayal and responsibility when deep down the entire time, John was just scared that Sam would get hurt (1.08, 1.20). Griping at Sam as a kid for wanting to play soccer (1.08), but without Sam's knowledge, quietly placing Sam's soccer trophy in a storage unit because John couldn't bear to throw it away even though there was no room for it on the road (3.03). John buried certain representations of affection and love because they were fraught with so much terror. Being open about how much he cared exposed him to feeling so much fear he couldn't cope with it, and John feels emotions incredibly deeply like Dean does. When the crying starts he cannot stop. It isn't macho bullshit—it isn't "I'm a man so this is unacceptable"—it's "If I feel this emotion right now at this exact moment then I will shatter into a million pieces".

Sam does the same thing when Dean is dead. Bobby represents vulnerability, family, and love—talking about how much Dean meant to both of them. The rage is easier. Being a hunting machine in 3.11 is easier. Focusing on murdering demon and training to kill Lilith is easier.

When the people Dean loves are in pain, Dean talks to them—he tells them how much he cares about them. He lets himself be vulnerable with it. Sam wants something to do and he needs to take charge. We see this is in 5.07 after Bobby reveals that he's having suicidal thoughts. Dean is distraught, and Sam is too (we see how much Bobby's opinion of him matters to Sam in 5.01)—but Sam just tells Bobby he isn't going to let him sacrifice himself, then jumps into action and focuses on the mission, while Dean lingers at Bobby's side. Then at the end of the episode, Dean sits down with Bobby alone and tells him how much he loves him and needs him. I don't think Sam could have that conversation at that point in his life. I genuinely don't think he could—and not because he doesn't love Bobby, but because he can't touch the distress that would surface from a discussion like that. One could argue Sam really does the same thing in 3.10, stepping outside of Bobby's house and seeking out Jeremy inside Bobby's dream while Dean goes up the stairs and finds Bobby and again—opens himself up to vulnerable emotions and expresses how much Bobby means to him—that he sees him as a father and he can't lose him. Sam focuses on finding the guy doing all of this and skirts the emotional vulnerability.

I think this is something Bobby, then, is very familiar with from Sam, so when he takes it to an extreme, where Sam is now dealing with a traumatic experience from being in The Cage, he can easily see how Sam would suppress his emotions and focus on hunting like a machine yet again, and how that could possibly reach such an extreme that Sam would stop feeling altogether and maybe not know how to or not be able to come back from that. And you know... I've never thought of this before in this exact way, but how did Sam's soul and body get separated in The Cage? Is there anything that disproves the idea that Sam himself ripped his soul from his body to cope with Lucifer's torture?

[tiddygame]

hello im sorry i wrote more for @myriadblvck ’s streamer au ghoap

I time travelled and around 4,000 words magically appeared in a document titled: "you didn't juju on the fucking beat soap" I think I was possessed by something. anyways here’s that:

tw: is it a panic attack? is it just typical ghost angst? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ just be careful it's mostly fluffy (ghost is mean to himself cause he almost kissed soap on the forehead)

also i just realized after i wrote this whole thing, this is based on my general knowledge of dog tags… as an american. writing about the british military. so if you know your shit about the british military, uhh sorry in advance. my bad. from a very brief search i think a lot of it’s the same or at least same enough but this might hurt for people that know a thing or two. whoops!

fun fact: did you know for a brief stint (iirc, >40 years from around 1960s to 2010ish) the american military was printing soldiers’ ss numbers on their tags? yeah can’t imagine why they switched back to serial numbers.

Ghost had been pacing outside of his office for three minutes before he actually entered. When he did, he didn’t say a word. Just sat down in one of the chairs, fidgeting. It wasn't that uncommon of an occurrence, he was normally either gathering his thoughts before talking to Price about something more personal or hiding from what/whoever he didn't feel like dealing with.

When it came to mission debriefs, he was clear and concise. However, personal matters were a different story, and based on the way he anxiously opened and closed his hand, he'd guess this was a personal matter.

Price didn’t ask. He knew that whatever it was Simon needed to say would come out eventually. For now, he continued filling out paperwork and trying to figure out what it was that had Ghost so worked up.

Honestly, there wasn't much guesswork involved. Chances were, it was probably yet another leave request. He knew from Gaz (who was such an awful gossip he sometimes wondered how the man made it through interrogation training) that Simon had been visiting some social media person he had taken a liking to.

(Look, yes, Price knew about Twitch and live streaming and everything. He’s not actually that old. However, as long as he kept up the front of the old man who complained about the keyboard on his phone being too small, he didn’t have to deal with social media. Sure, it caused all of them to joke that he was geriatric and on his last legs, but he was able to convince Roach that he doesn’t know what TikTok is, meaning he wasn’t in charge of reviewing all the bullshit he and Gaz posted. A fair trade if you ask him.)

He also knew that Gaz was convinced the two were in love to the point that he and Roach had a bet going to see when they would get together. Price thought it was rather stupid, but he had to admire their ability to keep it under wraps; if the lieutenant found out they’d been placing monetary bets on his love life, he had a feeling he would need to find replacements for the 141.

Regardless, Price hoped that one day Simon would tell him about the friend but, until then, he was happy to fill out any paperwork that would get the poor man off base. God knows that idiot needs a vacation.

Simon was bouncing his leg, messing with his fingers, and staring off into space.

Three of his nervous habits at once? He must be even more worked up about this than Price thought. But, he was a patient man. It was about seven minutes of companionable silence before Simon spoke.

“I need replacement dog tags. I seem to have lost mine.”

Price looked up. He could see the chain around his neck and the outline of them still under his shirt.

"You do?" Price shuffled his documents around, eventually finding a blank piece of paper he could write on.

"Yes sir."

“And do you know what happened to them?”

“I believe they were knocked off during the fight from the last mission. I didn’t notice until later that night when we were back at base.”

Price paused and looked up from where he had been writing.

The last mission had been an odd one. Ghost normally stuck further away, their eagle-eyed lieutenant typically stayed at long to mid-range, watching for hostiles and making sure whoever else was in the field wouldn’t get caught off guard by someone they hadn’t seen.

During the last mission, he decided to engage at close range, a far cry from his usual approach of sniping hostiles from the shadows.

At one point, their lieutenant had been tackled and almost strangled. The fight had pretty much ended, his attacker was the only one left there. Ghost, being The Ghost, dispatched him with ease, but it stuck out to Price. Ghost may prefer to stay further back, but that didn’t mean that his hand-to-hand combat skills were lacking by any means.

He remembered thinking at the time that it was a clumsy mistake, that Ghost would have had to be intentionally trying to fuck up to get knocked down. He assumed the man had just been caught off guard, but he knew that theory wouldn’t hold up to any scrutiny. Ghost isn’t one to get caught off guard.

What was stranger yet still was Ghost specifically pointing it out in his mission report, calling even more attention to it.

Price set his pen down and leaned back in his chair.

“You planned this?”

“I plead the fifth,” said the British man.

Price just continued to stare, curious to see if this was actually going where he thought it was going.

“Is this off the record?” Simon eventually asked.

“Of course,” almost everything the 141 did was of dubious legality. Not reporting a conversation about possible wasted assets was far from the worst thing that had been swept under the rug.

“Then yes.”

“Why?”

Simon didn’t answer. Price waited, giving the man time to gather his thoughts, but based on the way his mouth opened and closed before he slumped in his chair, it seemed he didn’t know what to say at all.

Price had an inkling he might know what this was about.

“You know, Gaz likes to keep me informed,” Ghost looked up at him, somewhat panicked yet resigned, like he already knew what Price was going to say.

“He tells me you have a certain someone you’ve been visiting?”

“Yes.”

“Is this person a friend or…?” Ghost once again paused, calculating the potential consequences of his available responses.

He didn’t answer.

“Hmm,” Price paused, wondering how far to push before he continued, “You want to give this person your old dog tags?”

“Yes.”

Of course he would pre-plan “losing” his dog tags. Price mentally chuckled, leave it to Simon to be such a sap that he wanted to give someone his dog tags yet still make sure to follow protocol so he never actually risked going without them.

He had to hand it to him, it wasn’t a bad plan.

Price had a smile now, knowing his grumpy hard-ass lieutenant had a sweetheart he wanted to be sappy with.

“Romantic or platonic?” Price tried again.

“… I don’t know,” he’d never seen Simon look quite so… forlorn.

Hmm… That would explain his hesitancy.

He was pushing how much Simon was willing to divulge.

“And does this person know the significance of you giving them your dog tags?”

Well, curiosity killed the cat…

“No, they don’t.”

…But satisfaction brought it back. How interesting, the plot thickens.

“Do you plan on telling them?”

There was a long pause, after which it dawned on Price, “You want to give them your dog tags because they don’t know.”

It wasn’t a question, he already knew. Simon somehow slumped further, attempting to hide his face as if he weren’t wearing a balaclava.

His grumpy hard-ass lieutenant. Absolutely smitten with someone yet too shy to say anything, deciding on a quiet confession, one they likely wouldn’t pick up on.

Price chuckled, jotting down the necessary information he would need when he got his hands on the right paperwork, polishing up some of the details of Ghost’s story to make it more believable, before reading off what he had written to Ghost to make sure he got everything right. Ghost nodded once, and that was that.

“Replacement tags will probably be here in two to three weeks.”

“I would like to request leave for two to three weeks from now.”

Price handed him the form, having already grabbed it. He noticed how the man seemed to calm at just the thought of getting to visit his mystery person.

Oh, he thought to himself.

I am definitely joining Roach and Gaz’s bet.

<><><><>

They were lying on the daybed in his streaming room, or, well…

No, that’s not quite right.

Simon was lying on the daybed.

Johnny was lying on top of Simon.

His computer was still softly playing quiet (non-DMCA) music from where his stream had just ended. Instead of turning it off, he had decided to unplug his headset and leave it on, the music just loud enough to be heard.

Simon was sleepily scrolling through his phone, trying to pretend like he hadn’t almost dropped several times while dozing off, desperately trying to stay awake. Johnny had watched his struggle and decided to lay down right on top of Simon, not even trying to pretend like he was trying to fit on the remaining space on the daybed. Why would he when Simon was right there?

It was meant to be a joke, having thrown himself on top of him to annoy the man into sleeping on an actual bed (he claimed he wasn’t tired but the comically loose grip on his phone and the waking world said otherwise.) However, unfortunately for said sleepy man, Simon was very, very comfortable.

His head was resting on Simon’s chest, arms under his back like he actually was just a pillow, one hand reaching higher to feel where Simon’s hair had begun to grow out slightly.

I wonder if he would let me help him cut it…

Simon had said he was like a clingy cat, his free hand running through his hair in the same manner one would pet a cat to prove his point. The joke's on him though, he likes it.

Simon had tried to stop but Johnny didn’t let him, threatening to tickle him if he did.

(“I’m not ticklish, I just don’t want you throwing a tantrum.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say,” he was definitely ticklish, and one of these days he was going to prove it.)

At some point, Simon had given up on keeping a grip on his phone, letting it drop to the side. They would probably have to go digging through the cushions to get it out of whatever crevice it had fallen to. As of right now, the idea of ever leaving his spot was comical at best.

The sun had begun to set, orange and pink tinted light filtering through the sheer curtains, making everything look more like a dream. Or maybe it was just the proximity to the man below him that was making him feel so serene.

Johnny took a second to inhale and exhale slowly, appreciating the moment. He hoped that this memory, this beautiful tranquility with Simon, would be something he cherished for a long time to come.

He knew that they had things to do. Soon, Simon would be catching a flight at some ungodly hour, headed back to save the world yet again. But for now, he was happy to nap away in their own little bubble. He never was a religious man but here in the arms of Simon Riley, he was tempted to think heaven was real, and that it was right in front of him.

“I almost forgot,” Simon mumbled, not sounding any more awake than he looked, reaching up for the collar of his shirt. Thankfully, the hand that was running his hair remained. He didn’t like proving the cocky bastard right, but he probably would have thrown a tantrum had he tried to remove it.

“They had some fuck up along the line or something and accidentally printed me an extra set of dog tags. I was just gonna toss ‘em but thought you might want—”

Johnny was now wide awake, sitting up and yanking the chain out of his hands.

“Don’t you fucking dare throw them away, of course I want them!” Simon’s face reddened, a frequent treat for Johnny now that he had gotten more comfortable going without the mask. Simon might have been good at keeping a poker face, but without his mask, he was a blushing mess.

He wondered if the blush was from his obvious jubilation at the gift or if it was because he was now straddling the man. Such pesky details, however, (even ones that would keep future Johnny awake at night) were far less important than examining the necklace in his hands.

It was obvious this was the older set, the metal worn and dented in some spots though the writing was still clearly visible.

“Calm down, I’m not going to take it from you,” the gruff tone was severely undermined by the aforementioned blush. It was hard to sound tough while half asleep on a daybed and being used as another man’s pillow.

Johnny stared at them for a little bit longer, feeling every dent and wondering the story behind how they got there, before putting them on.

He smiled at the man under him, “How do I look?”

He was going to joke, asking if he looked like a rough and tough soldier ready for war, but something in Simon’s eyes made him stop short.

He was looking with… with… Reverence was far too intense of a word for the softness of the moment but it was the only word that came to mind.

Simon reached up with his hand, grabbing the tags, his knuckles grazing his chest.

Well, that’s just fucking unfair.

Simon was supposed to be the blushy one. Not him, goddammit!

Though, he thinks when they make eye contact, they end up tied for who is blushing the most. They stare for a while, maybe it should have felt awkward but it was too adoring for either to feel any form of uncomfortability.

Neither moved.

It was Johnny that broke first, smiling at him, yet again tracing all of the scars he could see. It was his new favorite hobby, especially when Simon would blush making the scars on his face all the more visible.

He took one more second to sleepily appreciate the man before him, then went back to using him as a pillow. His hands went back to where they were before, one under Simon’s back and one playing with his hair. His head, however, did not fall back to his chest, instead resting in the crook of his neck and shoulder.

Simon’s hand returned to running through his hair, his other now coming up to rest on his back, rubbing up and down a few times before the sleepiness from earlier fully returned with his hand stopping somewhere around the small of his back.

Johnny leaned up slightly and gave a chaste kiss to the part of his neck that he could reach, then settled back to where he was. The hand in his hair paused.

“Thank you, Simon.”

A second of delay, and then the hand continued.

“You’re welcome, Johnny.”

Simon shuffled slightly, getting comfy before—

A kiss, on his forehead.

He couldn’t stop the blush and smile if he wanted to. He snuggled closer before drifting off to sleep.

When he woke, he was in his bed, practically tucked in. His window had been opened slightly, blackout curtains that had been drawn closed now swaying slightly with the breeze. When he focused, he realized he could smell petrichor and hear heavy rainfall outside with the occasional grumble of thunder.

There was a note on his nightstand. As he expected, it was Simon’s handwriting, apologizing for not waking him up before he left. It said that he had made breakfast for him (pancakes, with enough for when his sister would inevitably try to steal them), that he made sure to lock the front door, and left the window cracked.

He giggled sleepily at the last line. Regardless of the context, it always made Simon anxious to have the curtains open, much less to leave a window open. But, he also must've known how much Johnny loved the rain and set his worries aside, just this once, so he could wake up to the rain.

He set the note down and flopped back onto his pillows, his hand felt something cold and he remembered.

The dog tags.

John MacTavish is no stranger to crushes and heartbreaks.

He's had high school sweethearts, been in and out of love, he knows his way around the world of dating. Which is why he most certainly does not squeal and kick his legs while holding the tags like some kid with their first crush.

He did it like a grown man, thank you very much.

He grabbed his phone and sent Simon the worst pun he could think of; it was tradition at this point to send him some god-awful joke before his flight.

Simon has probably already forgotten about the whole exchange. He probably woke up and assumed he threw them away when he noticed he wasn't wearing them. It was probably stupid, an insignificant gesture with no meaning. But to Johnny, it felt like everything.

He sighed dreamily at the ceiling and felt the cool metal once more. Thunder roared outside. He thought about how he had felt in the man's arms. Thought about how much he wanted that again.

God.

His phone dinged and he immediately reached over to grab it.

I'm fucked, aren't I?

<><><><>

Elsewhere, Ghost was in an airport terminal, having far too much time to think.

Over the weekend, it was almost impressive how many times Ghost had talked himself into and back out of giving Soap his dog tags. He really hoped he hadn't made a mistake.

Simon felt the spot that Johnny had kissed and wondered if he remembered it. Wondered if he had meant it.

Simon thought about how Johnny had looked cradled in his arms when he carried him to his room, the way he had reached out for him when he laid him in bed. The way he had grabbed his wrist and clung to it, grumbling when Simon tried to pull it back.

If asked, he'd say that he had woken up late and that's why he was so far behind schedule. He'd keep the part where he sat there, kneeled in front of Johnny's bed, waiting for him to fall back into a deep enough sleep to pull his arm away all to himself. After all, it would have been rude to wake him up, no?

He had made sure to plug up his phone and, upon seeing the forecasted weather, hesitated before opening the window. It was only barely cracked, just enough for the sounds of the outside world to shamble in, but not so wide as to worry about water damage. He stared at it, convincing himself not to worry and that Johnny would like waking up to the fresh air.

He turned back to make sure the man was still asleep, still comfy, but stopped for a moment. He approached the bed and hesitated before running his fingers through his stupid haircut, almost wishing the man would grab his arm and give him an excuse to stay.

He didn't. Simon did, however, lean in to give him one last kiss on the forehead as some stupidly sappy goodbye, before his brain turned back on and he ripped himself away.

What the fuck is wrong with you? What? He grabs your arm in your sleep so you feel entitled to be able to kiss him?

Simon backed away, staring at the hand that had just been in his hair. He felt dirty.

For fuck’s sake, relax. It's not that big of a deal, you did it earlier; the man fell asleep in your arms, a forehead kiss isn't too much of a stretch.

He went to the kitchen and scrubbed his hands for a while, only stopping when he thought about how much water he was wasting. He still felt dirty.

Not a stretch? You don't get to decide that. How would you feel if someone tried to kiss you while you were unconscious? If they said that they felt they should be allowed to do so because you fell asleep?

He had started making pancakes. Something quick, easy, and reheatable for when Soap woke up. Like making him breakfast would make up for trying to kiss him in his sleep.

Why can't you just be normal?

Eventually, and after a run-in with Soap’s hell-spawn of a twin, he had to leave. The time on his phone showed that he should probably already be halfway to the airport by now but he has always been a selfish man.

He had snagged some paper and left Soap a quick note, hoping the apology would make him feel better about worse sins than not waking him up. It didn't.

He stared at the man for a second, admiring him, before he reminded himself that he was a fucking creep and left.

The storm left the flight delayed by 1.5 hours. Ghost had sat waiting, wireless headphones on and connected, but not playing anything. He had far too much time to think.

Simon thought about how Johnny had looked, his dog tags around his neck, silhouetted by the fading light, the sun behind his head as if even the stars knew they could never compare to him.

He stood and started pacing. Amongst the screaming children, feuding families, and people who think they're entitled to listen to their music without headphones, one middle-aged man having an existential crisis didn't stick out.

He thought about how he had never understood weighted blankets so well until Johnny had thrown himself on top of him. It should've hurt. He should've been annoyed. Instead, Simon selfishly hoped he would never get up.

It took him a while to put his finger on what he had been feeling exactly. Finally, he realized.

There, in that moment, he had never been so happy to be alive. It was a startling emotion to discern amongst the swath of negativity he normally felt. It startled him so much, he had snapped out of his reverie and stopped short in his pacing. When he checked the time, he saw he had one missed text from Johnny.

Soap (art streamer): i was trying to think of an airplane joke but none of them landed

Simon chuckled and sat down; he almost forgot about their dumb little tradition.

Ghost: Disliked.

Soap (art streamer): everyone is so mean 2 me 💔

Ghost: It is not my fault your pun was so Boeing.

Soap (art streamer): well i thought i could wing it

Ghost: Did you look up what giving do-

Ghost: About the tags, you

Ghost: I think you make me want to live

Ghost sighed and fell back further into his seat, coming to a conclusion that his subconscious had long ago discovered.

I'm in love, aren't I?

Soap (art streamer): speechless huh? finally, the Wright reaction to my comedic genius

Ghost: Absolutely awful, Mactavish.

Soap (art streamer): :D

Took you long enough, dumbass.

<><><><>

Soap’s twin spent a good bit of time staring at her brother's new accessory.

“Is something wrong?” he challenged, hoping she wasn't in a bothersome mood.

She failed miserably at hiding her shit-eating grin but didn't care.

“Nope!” she replied.

She had run into Ghost early that morning before he left.

"Detergent."

She was pretty sure he never even learned her name, just jumped straight into calling her detergent.

"Ghoul," she greeted, glaring at the man.

Being required by law to not trust him, she checked on her brother as he was still gathering his things and noticed the necklace.

“You gave him your dog tags,” she accused, like she was framing him for murder.

“Yes, I did,” he replied casually, as per usual robbing her of the fight she so desperately wanted to pick.

“Did you tell him what it means?”

“...What does it mean?”

Damn, he was good. If she wasn't convinced that he was the devil incarnate, she might have fallen for his feigned ignorance.

“100 bucks and you buy my silence.”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“200 then.”

“It doesn't even mean anything.”

“Hmm. Well, I suppose you might be right… JOHN!” their neighbors were probably going to complain.

“What the fuck are you doing?” ooh he was getting panicked now.

“If it doesn't matter then you won't mind me telling him to look it up,” she started walking to his room, “JOHNSON!”

“Fucking Christ, woman! Just— Fucking— Here.”

He pulled out his wallet and started counting bills. Damn, that was easier than she thought.

“What did you say? 100?”

“Nope! That was before inflation. Now it’s 300.”

“What the hell is wrong with you? You said 200!”

“So you admit you tried to scam me?”

“Just take the 100 and g-”

She didn't even get to yell, he reached for more before she could finish taking a deep breath in.

“Just shut the fuck up! Here! Three fucking hundred!”

She was tempted to raise her price further, but she was no gambler, she was a strategist. She knew a defeated man when she saw one. If she played this right, she could extort money out of him for a long time to come.

Something, something, vampires not fully killing their victims and all that.

She took the money, counted it, and then held out her hand to shake.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Wraith!”

He didn't shake her hand.

“Christ, both of you are awful.”

He packed his stuff and left, broke, broken, and defeated.

She ate as many pancakes as she could, rich and victorious.

She thought about how much power, how much blackmail she had in this moment.

“I’m fantastic actually,” she walked to her room.

I am going to be so fucking rich by the time they get their shit together.

[autistic-danieljackson]

So here's what Stargate Atlantis: The Official Companion Season 3 has to say about Sunday:

"It's more complicated than anyone will ever know," says writer Martin Gero of why the decision was taken to kill off Carson Beckett. "It wasn't like, 'Hey, let's kill somebody!' It was for numerous, incredibly complex reasons, having to do with the show overall."

*cough* Ratings *cough*

For a long time, Gero had wanted to see the characters of Stargate: Atlantis in a situation very different from the perils they usually face. He wanted to see them during 'down time'; relaxing, enjoying each other's company and generally having a life not plagued by danger.

Martin Gero, the writer we deserve.

"For a couple of years Martin had wanted to do an episode about a day off," recalls executive producer Brad Wright, "a non-urgent mission. And I said 'Well, I love that as the backdrop...and then something incredibly dramatic happens!' Because I don't think the audience wants to watch anyone sleeping. A day off that is un-dramatic and does not have a huge event centered around it is not going to be that good."

Listen. I don't know about anyone else but I know this is mine and many fan-fic writers' dream. I want to see every bit of a characters life. I would've watched 15 episodes about the characters having lunch and playing board games and hanging out. There is literally nothing more I want to see than my favorite characters having a good time. Just say it's for the ratings, don't try and put this on the audience. Alright, enough of my interjection back to the book.

"I had been pitching this day off episode forever," says Gero. "Brad said, 'This is a dangerous place. There are no days off in Atlantis.'"

Again, bullshit but I'll hold my tongue.

Then there's a bit about how they decided to write things and film things and the different processes they went through. Then more from Martin Gero at the end:

"Usually when we show the director's cut of shows up here [in the production office], it goes through the gauntlet of people making fun of it. That's harsh, but it's an important part of the process because you need to know what doesn't work. And the more vocal your audience, the better, so that when the producers go down to do the final cut, we can try to make the episode better. That started, and then for the last three acts there was really complete silence. When the lights came up, I turned around and Brad was crying. Everyone was just very somber. It was awful that we had to do it, but Brad thinks it's the best episode of Atlantis, period."

No one made you do this!! In fact, we all would've liked very much if you hadn't done it!

After the breakdown of each episode, there's a little report on each main cast character and a blurb about the recurring cast as well as sections about the making of the show. Here's some from Carson's report:

McGillion reveals that whatever shock the audience felt when they learned of Beckett's demise, it was nothing to his own. "It was absolutely not my decision to leave the show," he says plainly, remembering how he heard the news. "We shot 'Phantoms' on location. We came back for one day to finish the episode on the stage, and one of the ADs asked me to go up to the office because [executive producer N.] John Smith wanted to talk to me. I thought, okay, maybe they saw the dailies for 'Phantoms' and they're really happy with my work. Maybe they want to say, 'You did a good job,'" he recalls. "I did not see it coming at all. We went to Brad's office and it was myself, John, Brad, and Robert. I have to have respect for what they did - they called me to the office and told me in person that they wanted to shake things up with the show and unfortunately they had to kill a character off. It had to be somebody of significance so that the fans would have a reaction to it. And my number came up. I was shocked, to be honest with you, and I was disappointed because I love working on the show and I've had some great relationships with the cast and crew."

Wanted. to. Shake. Things. Up.

For McGillion, filming Beckett's final episode after three years of working with the same cast and crew was, understandably, not easy. "It was very difficult to shoot, especially that last scene with David."

Stop I'm crying again 😭

Then it's talking for a bit about how Paul had to come back to film a bit after 'Sunday' and that the last things he filmed were for 'The Ark.'

"I forget exactly what the scene was. I was kind of blurred that day because I knew it was my last day and no one else did," the actor recalls. "I didn't want anyone else to know because I'm somewhat like Beckett, I wear my heart on my sleeve and I didn't want to get emotional. Martin [Wood] shot 'The Ark', and [he and] Alex Pappas, who is the greatest AD that we have, were going to make a little announcement: 'This is a wrap on Paul for the show.' I asked Alex not to do that, because I just couldn't deal with that at that point in time. I didn't even tell the cast. We shoot so much out of sequence that no one knows when it's someone's last day. So I left and I saw Rachel [Luttrell] and told her. David had left [so] I called him to let him know. The next night all the cast went out for dinner, so that was nice. It's tough, but I'd rather just go out quietly."

Real life Carson Beckett, I love him so much 🥺

But that's about what it says on the episode. I know people have been saying this forever but I like to get it from the source as well. I am even angrier now than I was before which I truly did not think was possible.

If you like behind the scenes stuff, I think this is a great book! I'm going to follow along when I do my Atlantis watch-through, there's a lot of great stuff in here. Would recommend if you can get your hands on it, even if it does make you extremely angry at times. 😂

[asthedeathoflight]

A gentle sound (the rolling in the graves) pt 2

pt 1

Woe! More siren au be upon ye. I was gonna have this au just kind of be cheesy and romantic but um. I don't know how to do that. So instead we're getting weird with it. As is keeping with the tradition of this au I'm posting this immediately after I'm done with it and not editing.

- - -

“It’s not safe!” Swan is saying, gesturing wildly with the fork she was at one point using to eat her dinner. Remember dinner? Cowgirl really greatly enjoys dinner. She would love to get to eat it in peace. 

“I’m a fuckin’ adult,” Cowgirl mumbles around a mouthful of rice. “I can look out for myself.”

“You’re just one person! What if you had gotten jumped or something?”

“What’s the point of being a Warrior if we can’t make Coney a safe place for a woman to walk three blocks home from the bar?” Cowgirl shoots back, “I just wanna live my damn life, jeez.”

“I understand that,” Cleon says, which is code for I don’t understand but I’m trying to be civil about this. “But I still don’t think it’s wise for you to be out alone at night when we don’t know where you are or who you’re with.”

“Come on! You don’t give the others a curfew,” Cowgirl whines, “This isn’t fair.”

“The others didn’t get lost on that three block walk home from the bar and need to call home from a payphone in Flatbush at 4 AM,” Cleon says. “And it’s not a curfew, it’s a buddy system. Which the others may also become subject to if I think there’s good reason.”

“This is bullshit,” Cowgirl grumbles, “You guys just hate fun. Ajax has been fucking around with a mermaid for like months and she doesn’t have to have a buddy.”

“She’s a siren,” Ajax says immediately, automatically, and then freezes. “Um. I mean. I don’t know… what you’re talking about?”

Cleon’s attention snaps to Ajax in a way that Cowgirl has the firsthand knowledge to know is terrifying but the fraternal glee to not feel even a little bit sorry about. 

“What’s this about a siren?” Cleon says, extremely casual in a way that suggests she is not feeling even a little bit casual. 

Ajax frowns. “It’s not like whatever you’re imagining.”

“Yes it is,” Cowgirl chimes in, just to be unhelpful. 

Ajax frowns harder. “It’s fine. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Cowgirl has a point,” Cleon says, in her infinite grace and wisdom. “If you’re out doing something dangerous-”

“Oh my god,” Ajax complains, “She’s not fucking dangerous. I’m allowed to just talk to people. I do know how, you know.”

“A siren’s not really-” Swan starts to say.

“Finish that fuckin’ sentence, see what happens,” Ajax says. Swan looks away first. 

“I just want to be sure you’re being safe,” Cleon says reassuringly. 

Well, she’s not gonna get pregnant, at least. Wait, is she? How does that work? Cowgirl has a lot of questions. 

“I’m fine,” Ajax insists. 

Cleon has a compassionate look in her eyes, the kind she gets with new members or people in their community who need help. Ajax hates that look. “You can see why I’m concerned, though, right? I don’t like that you’re keeping secrets from me.”

Ajax splutters. “I’m not keeping secrets from you. I- this is crazy. Why do you all give a shit what I do in my free time all of a sudden?”

“We care about you,” Cleon insists. “And I don’t like the sound of you hanging around a siren without anybody there with you.”

“What do you even-” Realization dawns on Ajax’s face. “You think she put a spell on me!” Ajax looks deeply, personally offended at this idea. 

Cleon doesn’t look even a little bit ashamed. “Wouldn’t you?”

“I am not under a spell,” Ajax says, very loudly, as if that will make her more convincing.

“That’s exactly what you’d say if you were under a spell,” Swan mutters.

“Thank you!” Cowgirl exclaims. “That’s what I said!”

Ajax shoots her a glare that has Traitor! written all over it. “I can’t be under a spell,” she says, “Siren spells lose effect when you can’t hear them anymore. I Googled it.”

Swan mutters something that sounds a lot like that’s what the sirens want you to think. Cleon considers this more thoughtfully. 

“I’m glad you’re doing your research,” Cleon says, “But that doesn’t change that what you’re doing is dangerous.”

Ajax gestures urgently at Cowgirl. “She was there! She met her! She isn’t dangerous, come on Cowgirl, why aren’t you backing me up?”

And, like, sure. Cowgirl was there. And she did meet Ajax’s weird fish girlfriend. And lived to tell the tale. Rembrandt was perfectly polite and answered all her questions and gave her all the right compliments. But Cowgirl woke up in the morning with what felt like the mother of all hangovers and a dawning realization that Rembrandt had been answering questions Cowgirl hadn’t gotten around to asking. Cowgirl will admit Ajax probably isn’t going to get eaten. (Rembrandt had claimed not to enjoy the taste of non-fish meats, anyway.) But Cowgirl woke up that morning with a deep and abiding sense that she should maybe never go down by the water again. The fact that Ajax went back, has kept going back, doesn’t sit right with her. 

Ajax can see her skepticism on her face. She sits back in her chair. Cowgirl had expected theatrical betrayal, but the look Ajax gives her is just one of unguarded hurt. 

“... what do I have to do to get you guys to believe me?”

And this is the part where, if it were Cowgirl in charge, she might say something like, “I’m sorry, Ajax,” or, “maybe just let us know where you’re going next time.”

But she’s not in charge. Cleon sets her jaw. “One week. Prove to me you can go one week without seeing her and you can do whatever you want.”

Swan and Cowgirl wait for her to back down, or for Ajax to blow up and start yelling. Neither of those things happen. Ajax just stares, and Cleon just stares back. 

“Okay, okay, fuck,” Ajax says emphatically. “A week. Fuck.”

- - -

To Ajax’s credit, Cowgirl thinks she had every intention of going the whole week. Sulkily, yes; complaining loudly, yes; but she was going to wait the damn week. She had icily declared she’d be staying in in the evenings since she couldn’t be sure what activities or company Cleon would approve of. This had turned into Cleon staying home to watch her, which had turned into Swan staying home to make sure they didn’t kill each other or anything, which had in turn turned into Cowgirl staying home because it turned out her brilliant distraction hadn’t actually exempted her from the buddy system. It’s fine. If Ajax and Cleon are gonna get into it, like hell Cowgirl is gonna miss that show. 

Thus far, however, there hasn’t been much of a show. Ajax has mostly been doing sit ups until she can’t move and then staring angrily at the ceiling while Cleon manages to write in her notebook passive aggressively. By the fourth night, Cowgirl is absolutely dying of boredom. She rallies Swan to unenthusiastically back her movie night plan, makes popcorn, and herds Ajax and Cleon onto the couch to watch The Shape of Water. 

Ajax has been sullenly avoiding the popcorn and Cleon’s attempts to make eye contact with her for most of the runtime. Every time Cowgirl looks at her, she’s slouched another inch lower onto the couch. 

Swan dusts popcorn residue off her hands and stands up from where she’s been lounging on the floor. 

“Make more popcorn?” Cowgirl entreats, extending the bowl to her. 

“During the movie?” she says in disbelief. “No. I’m getting an apple.”

And then, as Cowgirl watches, something very odd happens. Swan gets up and crosses the living room, but she doesn’t go to the kitchen to get an apple. She goes to the front door, and she opens it. 

Swan stares out into the hallway for a second silently, and then she startles all at once. “Hey, what the fuck?!” she barks. 

“Oops,” says an airy voice from the hall. “Sorry about that. Excuse me.”

It must be pure shock on Swan’s part, because she lets herself be pushed to the side and just watches in bewilderment as Rembrandt steps past her into the apartment. 

She had looked mostly normal, down by the water. Cowgirl had thought she might not notice she wasn’t human if she walked past her on the street. She was wrong. Here in the light of their apartment, Rembrandt’s skin is very obviously two shades too grey, and a sort of mottled blue-green in places, like a bruise. She’s dripping water all over their nice (read: unbelievably shitty) hardwood floors. Rembrandt has stopped in the middle of the living room in a way that unsettles Cowgirl for reasons she cannot describe. She cocks her head to one side like a bird. 

Cowgirl follows her gaze. She’s looking at Cleon. Cleon is gripping the arm of the sofa very hard. Next to her, Ajax is starting to break into a wild grin of disbelief. 

“Hello,” Rembrandt says, with what strikes Cowgirl as just slightly the wrong intonation. “I’m visiting.” She says this like the concept of visitation is exciting and novel. 

“Ajax,” Cleon says. Her voice is perfectly measured and even. “I think you should go wait in another room.”

“What?” Ajax squawks, “You’re sending me to my room? What the fuck, Cleon?”

“Please, Ajax,” Cleon says, without her voice wavering. 

“It’s okay,” Rembrandt says, “Cleon wants to ask me invasive personal questions without you objecting.” She looks like this idea seems fun to her. 

Ajax glares at her, but Rembrandt stares back at her with such an unbothered expression of open curiosity that she gives up after a few seconds. 

“Okay, whatever,” she seethes, “Whatever, fuck. You guys get fifteen minutes to ask her weird questions. And I’m gonna ask her what you talked about afterwards.” She gets up from the couch and stalks over to her bedroom, slamming the door with what is really, for Ajax, just an average amount of force. 

“Okay,” Rembrandt echoes cheerfully when she’s gone. When nobody moves to speak, she frowns a little bit. “You have to ask the questions now. Unless you want me to just answer them. I’ve been told that’s kind of rude, though.”

Cleon’s voice is sounding strained, now, but she manages to say “Asking will be fine.”

- - -

Let's all take a moment to consider the implications of The Shape of Water existing in a world where sirens are real. Anyways I've decided this is a modern au because I can't be arsed to realistically backdate my fish facts which has made my detail where Ajax actually went to the library to look up whether siren spells work on you after you've left the presence of the siren obsolete. Sad.

[chaoticbardlady99]

Darling, Never Stop Haunting Me (Spawn! Astarion x F! Ghost Reader) MDNI 18+

Chapter Six: Four Clerics and a Vampire Spawn Enter a Tomb

Synposis: Astarion is struggling to adjust to not having you around for a little bit, but he amends this quickly. Astarion takes a moment to explore his own wants and needs while you are asleep.

CW: Mentions of torture, gore, m! Masturbation, Astarion being a lovesick mess I just had this, “oh Astarion and Tav were never together so he has no baseline for sexual touch.” And my brain went, “HE DOESN’T HAVE A BASELINE FOR SEXUAL TOUCH” and well- here we are. I hope you enjoy! I have put markers for when smut starts and stops for anyone who isn’t into it :)

Disclaimer- put together the picture for the banner, but I do not own any of the pictures. I did take the picture of ‘Birdie’ and Astarion on my PS5

Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated! Thank you for all your support and love!

Chapter 5: Chapter 7 : AO3

Astarion sits and stares at your broken, crumpled form. He had closed your eyes already and he had dug a hole to bury the cat that so graciously let you inhabit it for so long. 

  He recognizes the country bumpkin arrow as one of Leon’s. How could this happen? Astarion had searched the area high and low for signs of the Bastard and didn’t find a thing- where the fuck did he come from!?

 Astarion lets himself cry as he buries the cat. 

  He can’t feel your presence around him and that terrifies Astarion to no end. He can’t lose you- you are both supposed to be ‘stuck’ with each other forever. 

  Astarion has hopes, dreams, and stupid fantasies about what kind of life you could live together once they were able to resolve your incorporeal person problems. He really just knows that, as long as he’s around you, life will be fun. Hard sometimes, but nothing that couldn’t be talked about or handled. 

 You have given him a rather large lesson in communication and the importance of it- after about six months, you had both celebrated Astarion directly telling you that something you said bothered him instead of lashing out. 

  It had been something stupid- he can’t even remember what it was. He was jealous of some man that you said was very attractive as the two of you peered over the railing of your inn in a small town around Amn. 

 That all feels so trivial now. You could be with anyone if it meant Astarion could have you back right now. He may kill the person and cry, but that’s beside the point. <

  The sun is suddenly embracing him and Astarion feels his body become reinvigorated. 

 You never gave up on him or finding a cure so that he could walk in the sun. You also expressed having hopes and dreams amongst other what-nots. You wouldn’t give up this easily on him and he sure as hell won’t give up on you. 

  You have to be out there somewhere. If you aren’t around him that you had to be teleported somewhere else and if that means storming the Heavens- so be it.

  Astarion immediately begins flipping through Volo’s book- rubbing the stupid pink tulle tutu material between his fingers. 

 It’s a stupid thing to keep- he admits it to himself all the time- but it was such a hilarious sight to see and you had said you hope one day he sees how much you mean to him. Astarion will mess with the crappy material whenever he needs the reminder that he has worth and you are busy doing something or sleeping. It’s helped him a significant amount during the night time- the happy memory soothing his soul. 

  And he desperately needs that reassurance and soothing right now.

 Thankfully, Volo’s book wasn’t totally filled with bullshit- the back detailing a City that is not that far from his current location.

  It’s about two and a half days away. That’s entirely doable and you are more than likely perfectly safe, exploring the city and, with any luck, you are hoping he’s trying to get back to you. 

   He can’t get himself to stop- not even for a moment. He finds himself absentmindedly humming various violin pieces you have played for him since you learned you could be an incorporeal person. 

  He feels border line delirious and he’s pretty fucking hungry if he’s being honest with himself- the creatures he’s finding as he goes aren’t filling enough, but he doesn’t have time to properly hunt. 

   You would be worried and upset with him for not taking care of himself, but he won’t feel okay again until you are back in his sight and within arms length again. 

  The trek is horribly boring- he has become so accustomed to even your little snores during travel that the silence is uncomfortable and wrong. Astarion can’t even begin to imagine how his heart would feel if he tried to fall asleep and stay asleep without you near. 

  The hour he tried to trance out of sheer exhaustion had been full of every nightmare imaginable, but it was a dream of Leon killing you- taking away the only person in the whole world that Astarion would gladly lay his life on the line for. 

  He should have killed Leon the moment he suggested you become a sacrifice for him to get Victoria back. Astarion would sooner go back in time sacrifice him and the other spawn than hand you over if that’s what it took to keep you safe.

 At least in that reality, you could both be together and he would never have to worry about losing you because he wouldn’t have to worry about fucking Leon. 

  He just knows Leon is involved- he can feel the irritation in his bones grow with each minute he walks. 

  Astarion races through the forest- being mindful enough to not go barreling through some poor soul just minding it’s own business. 

 For once, he isn’t looking for a fight. He just wants to get to you and leave- get far away from this Gods awful place and begin your lives together somewhere far, far away.

  The second day feels even worse than the first- twenty four hours was far too long and he was growing more worried by the second stint of his journey.

What if Leon finds you before Astarion does?

 Astarion is worried that Leon will convince you to sacrifice yourself for his daughter if he gets to you first- something he knows you would do without a second thought. 

  Astarion finds himself begging the universe that, for once, he is good enough for someone to stay for him- wait for him. 

 Worth someone being a little bit selfish for once.

 What if he isn’t? What kind of life could a transient vampire spawn offer you? Would you willingly remain a ghost if you had the choice or would you pass on?

 He attempts to trance again when his thoughts become overwhelming. He continues, however, to refuse sleeping for very long or take the time to properly hunt. 

 He knows what his needs are and he will take the time later. However, time isn’t a luxury he thinks he can afford right now.

 Astarion needs you- he’s doing this for himself more than anything.

 His second hour long trance is much better. He dreams of you in his arms, held tightly to his chest- your hair fanning out on a plush pillow while he leaves gentle kisses on your face and you giggle happily. You are here again and everything is okay. 

  Astarion wakes up crying when he realizes it’s only a trance- a trick of the mind. His lips yearn to know how your skin feels underneath them.

 Astarion needs you back by his side yesterday. One day was unacceptable as is, but two? His world feels tilted. 

   He feels like he can breathe again when he spies the massive Watch Tower in the distance- the black, oddly shaped tower looms over the other buildings and it’s presence demands to be seen. 

  His feet lead him through the gates of the City of Manifest and he makes a B-line to the Hall of Farewells. There are people everywhere enjoying their loved ones, but no sign of you yet. 

  Astarion goes to the front of the line- ready to knock whoever over so that he can talk to the teller. Your life very well could be in danger- Astarion hasn’t seen any signs of Leon in the Underdark, but you can never be too careful and that arrow was definitely one of his shitty homemade ones.

 “Hey! You can’t just cu-“

 Astarion gives the man a menacing, unblinking smile. The man gulps nervously.

 “You were saying?”

 “Ha, uh I was just saying, go right on ahead! You can cut me anywhere, anytime.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, my Boy,” Astarion says with a sneer, “otherwise you may not live to see the light of day.”

 A dawning realization of horror crosses the man’s face.

“That’s not what I-“

 “NEXT!”

  Astarion waves, “that’s my cue- I will find your delicious self later.” 

 He snickers to himself after he turns around- the man was positively green-, but when he goes to look down next to him to be chastised by you as you begrudgingly laugh- he’s reminded once again of his current twisted reality. 

  It’s only been 56 hours and he misses you so much- there is a massive hole in his chest with every step he takes and he is praying to every God that you are here. 

 “Hello! Welcome to the Hall of Farewells,” an elderly woman stands behind the counter, “who are you looking for today, young man?” 

  If you were here? You would have busted up laughing. 

“Young man, my ass!” 

  He can’t help, but smile slightly to himself as a tear begins to fall from his eye. 

“I’m looking for Althaeastra Rothwell? She goes by Birdie,” he gestures to show your height, “about this tall, beautiful, kind, hilarious, plays the violin really well.” 

 “Well- that is more than enough information for me to help you!” The elderly woman states while beaming, “she must be a very special woman and how lucky of her to have such a wonderful partner.”

 “I’m the lucky one, actually,” the words slip out of his mouth before he can stop them. 

  The woman smiles even brighter and Astarion has to try very hard to keep himself from blushing like a smitten school boy.

 Good Gods, he thinks, stop being a grieving, emotional mess and focus. You can be weird and dissect your feelings later once you find Birdie.

  The woman claps her hand and performs some kind of magic on a book that flips pages with the intensity of a storm. Names are jumping from the pages- sorting through nicknames, letters, dates of death, etc. until a bright DING alerts the elderly woman that the spell is complete.

 “Ah yes! Miss Rothwell! She hasn’t been here too long- only a couple days,” the woman muses, “hmm well, it looks like your brother already went off to find her. My guess is that you will find her with him.” 

 Astarion feels his entire body become significantly colder than it already is. 

 No- Leon couldn’t have bested him this time. How did Leon get here ahead of him? He did so many perimeter checks before entering the Catacombs and Leon was nowhere to be found. There should be absolutely no reason for him to be here- unless he had planned to kill you so you are a ghost again? That would make sense and it would force you two apart. 

 “Which brother?”

  The woman cocks her head at him and then a realization seems to be forming in her mind.

 You weren’t supposed to be going anywhere with Leon and it’s likely this woman just directed you to your actual death. 

 “His name is… Leon,” she reads the name uneasily, “she wrote only your name in the registry- specifically put ‘WAITING FOR ASTARION’. Brayden tried to tell her it wasn’t necessary, but she insisted. Your brother came in shortly after and checked the registry.”

 Astarion damn near loses it- screaming profanities inside his head and desperately trying to keep from exploding all together. He can’t protect you from prison so he needs to play nice. 

 Afterwards? Well, let’s just say Astarion may be creating a list of people he wants to Falcon punch in the throat after you are safe and with him again. You most likely won’t approve, but he told you not to go wandering off with strangers! You do not have the combat experience or street smarts to be able to protect yourself. 

  Astarion goes to ask another question when a man comes racing in with a very mutilated, but living ghost. An insignia with a boot print and compass rose is on the front. The man’s black, curly locks are mangled and blue stained.

  The older man is hysterical- begging someone to save his son as pieces of him begin to fall away and disappear. Astarion feels a wave of panic go through his body. 

 ���Brayden,” the elderly woman gasps, “Gods help us!” 

  A group of clerics descends on the men and tries to help the man who was evidently giving you a tour. Another group goes racing out the door in the direction the body was found. Astarion makes note of this “Tombyard District” and begins to leave. 

  His body, however, freezes as he approaches the young Ghost laying out on the floor- wheezing painfully and his eyes meet Astarion’s a look of recognition. You must have talked about Astarion a lot.

 Brayden’s eyes seem to scream back at Astarion, “she’s in danger! You need to save her!” 

 Astarion would know that magic and knife work anywhere- Leon got to you and this poor man probably tried to defend you. It disgusts Astarion that he is grateful for a perfect stranger, but anyone who has attempted to keep you safe is okay in his books. 

  He will not lose you to this place and he will make sure Brayden’s suffering was not in vain or yours for that matter. 

  Astarion leaves the Hall of Farewells- realizing that the more he sits there and listens to that man wail for his adult son to stay with him, the more and more hopeless and scared Astarion becomes. 

  Leon was Cazador’s best hunter, but it was because he was an aggressive meathead about the whole thing. It irritated the piss out of everyone. He wasn’t subtle and was more than happy to swoop in and steal your mark if it meant he could get back to the Palace faster. 

  It doesn’t take very long for Astarion to track Leon, but he’s alarmed when the faint scent of his other siblings begins to tickle his nose. The guard at the entrance of the Tombyard warned him against going in this late, but Astarion has a feeling he doesn’t have much time. 

 He stole a Ring of Manifesting on the way there so that after he finds you, you can both run straight to Waterdeep. Astarion had used one of his sending spells detailing what is going on to Tav and Gale just in case you both go MIA, but they are expecting both of you to be there. Admittedly, Astarion is quite proud of himself- you are always on him for not having a plan and this time he actually has a plan!

  The smell of rotting flesh and the sound of people crying over their loved ones rings through his ears. There are multiple funerals occurring at once- mostly Drow and a few Humans. 

 The area is not cozy nor is it an aesthetically pleasing place to rest, the buildings look like warehouses for the bored and lonely and the statues along the streets are even graveyard-esque. It makes him uncomfortable- he doesn’t necessarily care for graveyards anymore. Not that he ever did, really.

 There are alleyways here and there, but only one has Leon’s scent and the other scent is Lavender and something else he can’t pick up on. It has to be you which makes Astarion feel even more sick.

 What did he tell you about following random strangers places!? One time you followed a man with white hair because you thought it was Astarion and you had been missing for an hour and a half. 

 Now you have been missing for probably two Gods damn days!

 The scent leads him to an alleyway and the stench of rot becomes worse- Astarion can practically feel the pull of the weave in the air and the dark art of Necromancy.

 Wonderful, just wonderful. 

  Astarion creeps along the wall- grateful that he listened to your suggestion about wearing solely black armor. It made sneaking around much easier and if he’s about to face a necromancer without a Cleric around then he’s going to need every advantage he can get. 

  A few new scents are in the air- much cleaner than the heavy must that threatens to suffocate him. 

Think before you act, Astarion reminds himself, being irrational is not going to bring Birdie back to you any faster. 

  As he comes around a corner as slowly as he possibly can, he pulls his daggers out with the pointed ends against someone’s throat- he is met with a set of piercing blue eyes and earthy brown eyes. Both individuals appear to be clerics and they both gesture for Astarion to be quiet- that they are not a threat. Two other people become more visible to him. 

 Astarion recognizes the individual symbols on their chest as Uhanam- a lawful neutral God that is about law and intelligence-, Durann- a Lawful Good God that is about healing and listening to laws, and Aluvan- protector of Ghosts. He doesn’t recognize the other God, but she has the same symbol as the poor Cleric who had been severely injured trying to protect you.  

  A door appears further down an alley and a man that smells of Undeath with a beating heart comes walking down the alley. Astarion recognizes him as a Shadar Kai almost instantly. 

  Much to his irritation, the individuals let him pass by them, but he watches one use sleight of hand to maneuver the keys off his belt. The Shadar Kai doesn’t even so much as flinch. It’s rather impressive and Astarion enjoys the shit eating grin the Wood Elf flashes at their fellow clerics. 

  You would really like these people. Astarion will like them as long as none of them attempt to take you away from him. 

 “Alright,” one of the clerics, a blonde halfling woman, releases a sigh of relief before continuing her whispering, “hello- are you friend or foe?”

  “Depends,” he whispers back, “are you going to kill everyone-including the people they have held captive- or are you on a rescue mission.”

 “Rescue and revenge mission- actually,” the half- elf woman with the same insignia as Brayden says, “they tried to kill my fellow Cleric, Brayden- my husband in fact, and they kidnapped the person he was showing around. We just hope she’s still alive- this Lich doesn’t hang onto people very long.”

  Of course it’s a fucking Lich. 

 “For all of your sake,” Astarion snarls, “you better hope she is alive.” 

“Your loved one, I take it?” the halfing says.

 Astarion nods- they need to know there is someone here for you and if they so much as look at you funny, he will kill them with absolutely no remorse to show for it. 

 “That settles it then,” the Wood Elf says, “let’s go save some folks and kick some ass!” 

 It was like being around Karlach- the cleric has a goofy grin and an even goofier vibe.

  Astarion follows them- trailing behind so that he can take more time to search and see you before it becomes a bloodbath. 

 You just have to find her and get out of here, Astarion repeats like a mantra in his head, she is alive, she is safe-ish, she is okay. Everything is going to be fine because it has to be fine.

  The place is filled to the brim with various undead creatures haunting it’s halls. Some creatures he has never even seen before and others look like they are stitched together with mismatched parts. 

  Astarion tries to swallow his panic- no sign of you yet so you may just be caged some-

 “NO PLEASE!” your voice screams through the air and the sound of you struggling against someone rings alongside your voice, “PLEASE! I- DON’T WANT TO BECOME THAT- PLEASE!!!!!!” 

   You cry out in pain and Astarion begins barrelling past the Clerics who are trying to stop him, but they can figure it out. He needs to get to you. 

 Astarion pushes past every individual who comes by him- some try to attack him and he is quick to rebuke them or kill them with one blow. Your screams are becoming more and more panicked- you sound like you are fighting for your life and Astarion wishes you were aware that he is right here- nothing will happen to you.

 He just needs to find you and then you never have to come to this horrible place ever again.

“ASTARION!” your cries are coming from down the hall, “ASTARION, HELP! PLEASE!” 

   Your voice has begun to sound gargled, but he knows he’s on the right floor- the scent of Lemongrass hanging in the air like a blessing. 

  When he finally finds the room you are in, he watches as some kind of magic tries to contort you into something else entirely. You are fighting to prevent it- tears streaming down either side of your face.

“Astarion- please hurry,” your anger and your voice being reduced to a tearful whisper, “I’m not ready to die.” 

  And he’s not ready for you to. In fact, Astarion feels positively homicidal. 

  Within a millisecond, Astarion is shoving his daggers between the Lich’s ribs and it cries out in surprise- Astarion uses an arrow of Thunder and sends the Lich crashing into the wall- one of it’s arms dislocating in the process. 

 The Shadar Kai descend on him and you struggle against your restraints- trying to get away from the ones that are trying to hold you back down and keep him from getting to you. They are unlatching your restraints and dragging you towards another hall. The Lich waiting like a coward behind it’s soldiers. 

 “ASTARION!” you scream, “BEHIND YOU!”

   He sends another Shadar Kai to the Shadowfell thanks to your warning, only to have one of the Shadar Kai holding you cut your throat, an angry growl leaving Astarion,and he cuts through every creature his blade can get it’s sharp edge on. 

   A crash from behind him and the horrific creature that comes racing into the room distracts Astarion and he’s grateful that the Clerics had caught up with him because he wouldn’t have been able to save himself from the oncoming Ghoul running towards him otherwise.

  He makes eye contact with Dalyria, but it’s not her eyes. The sight of his siblings and their fate makes Astarion feel ill- the Lich gestures and suddenly they are collapsing to the ground in a ball of red magic. The blood curdling scream of anger that leaves Astarion’s mouth scares him.

  The Lich looks like he’s about to shit himself.

 Not only had this horrible, unnatural creature taken you and harmed you significantly- it had destroyed his family. The only one he knows and remembers. The only people in the whole world who know what it means to suffer just as well as he does.

  The creature gets back up and the Lich doesn’t have time to dodge before one of it’s unnaturally strong hands grabs it’s face and sends it’s flying away from the hall- it’s skull begins to crack the moment he makes impact with the wall.

  The Lich uses shadow step to retreat down one of the hallways as his siblings run at him again- looking rather pleased that they chased it off.

  He feels angry- it won’t be safe for you or his siblings here or anywhere with that Lich fucking off. Astarion wants to go after it- desperately and end this once and for all, but he knows he can’t. 

  Instead, he returns his attention back to the battle and getting to you as you continue to struggle against your captors. He’s over there in seconds- uses Dimension Door to put you in a safe corner and then using Misty Step to get back into battle. The creature that is his siblings stand protectively in front of you- waiting to destroy anyone who dare harm you. Their eyes meet his and they nod- we’ve got her. 

  He tries not to cry from sentiment alone- they care about him enough to keep you safe so he can focus on killing the other enemies in the room and Astarion never thought he would see the day where that would ever happen. It’s a shame it’s probably too late now to try to start over with each other again. 

  The remainder of the creatures are destroyed and Astarion personally mutilates the individual who decided cutting your throat was a fantastic idea. 

  Once it all calms down and everyone is dead- the Clerics lock the hallway door where the Lich had run away and they gesture for the mix and match of his siblings to follow as they exit the building. 

  The Aluvan Priestess, the Halfing, is the one to assure them that they would reverse their condition, they’ve apparently done it before and he hears your choked sigh of relief. He’s surprised to see the monstrous versions of his siblings look at you with hopeful eyes and you back at them. 

 It must have been a horrible 56 hours. 

 Brayden’s cleric in arms and wife comes over and heals your throat, your wrists, and offers you a clean outfit. You are shaking as you take the clothes and you look at the woman with your lower lip trembling.

“Is Brayden okay? He was trying to keep me safe.”

 The woman nods and smiles, “he’s in rough shape, but nothing he won’t be able to come back from- thank Wyst.”

 That seems to make you cry harder and Astarion is quick to scoop you up into his arms now that the initial shock of everything he has just seen has worn off. You cling to his neck, your arms wrapped around him tightly, and he just rubs soft circles into your back.

 “It’s safe now, Birdie,” he whispers, “I will never ever let anyone harm you again.” 

             *****************************

   It’s later in the evening when you seem to finally be more yourself again, but Astarion can tell that something horrible happened to you at the hand of the Lich. He is refraining from asking- not wanting to upset you or push you too hard. 

  You are drinking the honey mead in your hand heavily- eating bread and cheese along side it. Ghosts can’t get hung over so you took it as an opportunity to try to drown out the events of the last couple days. 

  It’s when you look at him with tearful eyes that he knows you are truly, honest to Gods suffering. 

“Darling?” He gently takes your hand in his, “what is it?” 

 You look up at the ceiling with a trembling lip before looking him in the eyes again.

 “He cut me open,” you choke, “he- he took out my organs and put them in other bodies before putting them back in mine.

“Then he was going t- to,” you shake as you try to get through your next sentence, “he was going to turn me into a Necroplasm. A horrible creature only made of bone and ectoplasm. Lifeless; thoughtless.”

  Your face is back in your hands and Astarion is feeling an incredibly confusing amount of emotions right now.

 He wants to hunt down that lich and destroy the bastard limb by limb, over and over again until he finally shows the last bit of mercy he could- breaking the phylactery. 

 But he also wants to get out of the City of Manifest entirely. His siblings are all separated again- temporarily Ghosts, but incredibly happy to not be melded together while the Clerics search for the remainder of their bodies to reconstruct. He has no idea how it works, but apparently the Gods over manifest are much kinder than the ones who dominate the rest of Faerun.

  Leon is the only one who hasn’t come back, but he’s dead to Astarion either way. He was quite impressed with the amount of damage you had been able to inflict. Once he teaches you how to use a dagger, you could truly be unstoppable.

 However, that’s for a later date when you become settled.

 Gale sent him two tickets to teleport to Waterdeep and you seemed to be relieved that you wouldn’t be staying here- you want to come back, but after you feel more confident in your ability to protect yourself.

  Tav and Gale are getting married in a few weeks- Waterdeep will be good for both of you. It will be familiar and comfortable.

 You can stay together in the room you usually occupy, he will keep watch if that’s what you need to sleep for a while. 

 Anything to make you feel safe again. 

 “I feel so violated,” you sniff and laugh sadly to yourself, “I have the worst luck. The first touch I receive in three and a half centuries and it’s while I’m being cut open and fit to others like a puzzle piece- like a thing.

“I could feel it,” you wipe your eyes, “every horrible thing those people felt before they died. I felt their love and misery for the people they were never going to see again-“ 

  This was not how Astarion wanted this reunion to go- Leon is dead, but it would never feel like enough. 

 Leon took honest, innocent moments you deserved to have and tainted them- all for something that was never going to happen anyway.

 A Lich is a Lich and he’s going to hunt the bastard down- you were just a victim of opportunity in his eyes. 

 “I wish I had gotten there faster,” Astarion whispers, “this isn’t how I imagined this going.” 

 “What do you mean?” You ask, wiping your eyes.

 Does he tell you that he envisioned at least kissing you? If you wanted? Now it feels like it would be pressuring you.

“It’s not imp-“

“No- enough about me,” you say, “I want to know what you’ve been doing and how life in the sun has been!” 

 Astarion smiles softly, “there hasn’t been a life in the sun without you. I barely noticed- I was focused on getting here to you.” 

  “Wait, really?” he nods in affirmation, you smile widely at that, “I’m glad I wasn’t the only one who missed hanging around.” 

  You look so happy looking at him- you are wearing his shirt since your own clothes had been practically destroyed and the clothing that was lended to you was uncomfortable. 

 “I’m going to wash my face and all the ick from these last couple days off real quick- I’ll be back.”

  He couldn’t help but miss you- even a room away when you go to wash off.  Astarion had braided your hair back afterwards. 

  Every part of you is beautiful and lovely- he was so scared he lost you without ever getting to see what would happen between the two of you. He hates how gushy and mushy he’s become over the last two days- at this rate, he’s just going to embarrass himself when you ultimately don’t return his feelings.

“Be my date for Tav and Gale’s wedding,” he blurts out of nowhere.

  Nice going panty dropper- you call that romantic?

 “What?”

  You literally said one sentence and blew up the whole thing, Astarion scolds himself.

  Astarion clears his throat, “I couldn’t think of a better plus one nor anyone I would want to suffer through the cheesy affair with.” 

 “Yes!” You exclaim, jumping up, “one hundred thousand times yes! Oh my gosh!!!!!! We will need to go shopping or thieving- who cares- I GET TO GO TO A WEDDING WITH MY FAVORITE PERSON!!!!!” 

 Oh thank Gods.

  Your once melancholy mood has shifted and Astarion feels a warm glow in his chest. He can already think of what cut would fit you best, what colors, how your hair should look, etc. 

  You ask him so many questions- what color does he think would be best? Will you match with him? What color would be best for both of them? And “GODS ABOVE HOW WILL I DO MY HAIR AND MAKE UP!? I’m out of practice!”

 Oh and you made it very clear- absolutely no tulle or crowns. 

 You both somehow decide on lavender and silver. Astarion figures he’ll wear silver with lavender designs and you will do the opposite. 

“What if I don’t remember how to dance!?” You say, mortified, “I’ll embarrass us both!!!”

 “Oh the horror- to be forced to save my darling damsel in distress from tripping over her own heels,” he teases, pushing a stray hair out of your face, “I’m sure I have more than enough dancing experience for both of us.”

 You look at him and bite your lip- a little bit of worry in your eyes.

“What is it, my Sweet?”

  He struggles to stop his smile at the nice blush that courses under your skin at the term of endearment.

“I- I know you hate parties,” you start cautiously, “are you sure you want to dance and everything? We don’t have to if it would make you unhappy. Just being there with you would be more than enough. Unfortunately I can’t offer not going, I think Tara would murder me.”

  Well that is… unexpected. Astarion’s body feels like it’s radiating with happiness and affection- you are quite literally perfect.

 Pull yourself together.

 “I’ll be fine, my Dear,” he says with a slight dismissive wave of his hand, “besides, this is my first party as a free man- who knows? Maybe I’ll become a party fiend.”

 “Ha! I don’t think you like people enough to do that.”

 “But I like you enough to,” he states, “so if you would like to go to them from time to time- I have no qualms.” 

  Gods when did he become such a romantic? 

  You, on the other hand, look like you might explode and he can’t tell why, but he hopes he hasn’t pushed it too far. Astarion is quickly reassured when a coy, mischievous smile passes over your face. 

“I promise I won’t make you go to too many parties,” you tease, “one too many and one might end up being a funeral.”

“Ah see, that’s my kind of party!”

“Oh my Gods,” you shake your head, giggling, and put it in both of your hands, “you don’t even like cemeteries.”

“You don’t need a cemetery for a funeral if you are creative enough, Darling,” he smiles cheekily, “I do put the fun in funeral after all.”

  You roll your eyes and shake your head with a smile at his Gods awful pun- he learned it from Shadowheart on their adventures and he loves to sprinkle it into conversations. 

“Fair.” 

   Somehow, you eventually end up asleep in his arms in the plush Inn bed like he had dreamed about the other night. You snore softly as Astarion holds you closely to him- making a point of looking at the door and windows frequently enough so there aren’t any surprise visitors. 

  Astarion has never actually cuddled with anyone (willingly, at least). Anyone who’s ever been in a bed with him has been condemned to becoming Vampire spawn (he almost wishes they had all just been dead). It was just sex, nothing more or less. Sure people offered, but it never felt right. 

  This? This feels right and like you were made for him. It’s a miracle truly- Intimacy without any sexual touch and he has the choice to be there, curled up around you. 

  It feels heavenly- better than his trances could have ever imagined. 

  You are both the same temperature so you almost feel warm to the touch. Your eyes are moving back and forth as you dream, he is relieved to see a content smile on your face. 

 Astarion is prepared to be there for you if you have nightmares. You have taught him that just having someone to comfort you is enough. He just wishes you didn’t experience any of it in the first place, but he won’t be keeping you too far out of reach or unguarded so hopefully it will never happen again.

  Eventually sleep takes Astarion too and he’s grateful for the somewhat peaceful rest- until it turns into a full blown fucking sex dream. 

  Astarion tries not to jolt you awake- somehow aware enough of his surroundings to know you are still there. You are still fast asleep- dawn is coming and Astarion is not, which could very well be a problem if you wake up while he’s hard.

   He sneaks away to the washroom- making sure to lock the door. 

 He will just take a bath, cool himself off, and then go back to bed for a cuddle. It’ll be like this never happened. 

(Smut begins)

 He’s never actually masturbated and there is a significant amount of weariness when he thinks about the idea. Sure he’s done it for show, but never in a private, alone moment.

  Astarion has basically been celibate for the last nine months and of course, now that you are a ghost person again, his libido decides to rear it’s ugly head.

 He doesn’t even know if you actually want him that way!

  The water is lukewarm and Astarion leans back against the tub- willing his hard on to go away already. It feels almost impossible to forget his trance- the way your pretty mouth looked around his cock, the way you keened when he filled you for the first time, the dance that takes the act from slow and romantic to something else entirely. 

  Wild, passionate- unrehearsed. 

  Astarion wraps his hands around his cock- desperate for any release he can get at this point. He isn’t going to be able to will this trance or these desires away and he is entirely in control of the act- if he becomes uncomfortable or begins to dissociate, he can stop. 

 “You don’t have to sleep with these people,” you reminded him softly, “Hells- you don’t have to do any of it at all if you don’t want to! Even if you are both naked and you’re already inside the person- you can stop. A good person, a person worthy of you, will respect your needs and be understanding.”

  Astarion can stop. You helped him with this realization nine or ten odd months ago. 

   He strokes himself slowly at first, trying to mimic the movements of the trance- starting with your mouth. You are inexperienced and Astarion imagines teaching you how to suck him off- your wide, beautiful eyes looking up at him eagerly as he praises you for being such a good girl for him.  

  His breath hitches when he runs his thumb over the head and applying a bit of pressure over his slit, his hips bucking upward and his brain paints the beautiful picture of him thrusting into your mouth- guiding your movements by grasping your hair as gently as he possibly can as he gets closer and closer to his peak. 

  In this fantasy- you moan around his mouth and you are touching yourself while taking his whole length until he hits the back of your throat. You wear his shirt like you are now- nipples pert, your breasts swaying as he thrusts into you. Your eyes are lustful, hazy, and wanting.

  Astarion’s head goes back by instinct- a breathy moan escaping his mouth and he’s thinking about what it might be like to be inside you. What it would be like to finally connect with someone he adores intimately. 

  He imagines exploring every single inch of you- finding what makes you wet and wanting for him. Astarion will ruin you for any other lover- his tongue teasing your clit and lapping up your juices like a man dying of thirst. 

 Astarion wants- no, needs- you to be crying out his name and telling him how you will only ever be his like he will only ever be yours. 

(Smut ends)

  He reaches his peak much faster than he anticipated- the release feeling like heaven. Astarion pants as he stares up at the ceiling, entirely blissed out. 

 Now that was incredible. He can understand why people enjoy it from time to time.

 His mind continues to think of you and it gets caught on the words the elderly woman had said earlier today- about how you were lucky to have him and vice versa. Astarion let’s his brain indulge for a millisecond before locking the thought back into the “we aren’t going to talk about this right now, self!” box.

 Althaeastra “Birdie” Ancunín. She would want a nice, but simple ring- nothing gaudy, he pauses his thoughts, or maybe she needs one simple ring and one gaudy one. Especially with her ability to pick up music again. What if she has to dress especially nice for an occasion? The ring should at least be able to tell people all the way out in the courtyard that she is spoken for. 

  He pushes his guilty pleasure thoughts aside. You are his dearest and closest companion- he will not screw that up by making you feel like you have to be in a relationship with him or like you have to jump into something right away. You just started your life and why would Astarion be your top pick? He’s a disaster- with or without you. 

  Well, the bliss was wonderful while it lasted. Now he’s just sad.

  After cleaning up- Astarion finds himself leaning against the door frame, jealous of the warm rays of sun that get to kiss your face first thing this morning. You are still asleep and don’t stir when Astarion climbs back into bed behind you. 

  One day, he will tell you his feelings, but for now? Astarion is going to try to go back to sleep.

***********************************************************************

Author note: Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated! Please let me know if you would like to be on the tag list! I am using the Ghostwalk campaign for NPCs, locations, etc. It is a 3e Campaign and doesn’t mirror 5e Ghosts. I have tweaked some of the ghost powers and such for the sake of the story, but if you would like more information on Ghostwalk and the City of Manifest, there is a PDF online that is free to download :)

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