#it’s perfectly ok to disagree; I don’t mind

[chhagiya]

Unpopular Opinion time:

(This is my opinion. If you don’t agree with me, I fully understand and I don’t have any problem with that. In the past, I have been harassed because some people disagreed with something that I posted purely as a joke. I respect everyone’s point of view)

Sometimes when people grow up in same sex environment as a child, they tend to be more comfortable with that sex. For example, if someone grew up in girl’s only school, then they tend to be more comfortable around girls rather than guys. When someone grows up in boys only school, they tend to be more comfortable around guys compare to girls. And this is often carried in adulthood.

I think Moon Jo is like that too. He grew up in an environment where there were mostly guys. We don’t know much about his childhood. We just know he grew up in an orphanage where Eom Bok Soon was director. So I’m guessing it was a catholic orphanage ( given Eom Bok Soon appears to be closely related to church). Catholic orphanages( especially in the 90s or so) often used to be very strict and most likely not co-Ed. If that is the case, then he probably didn’t have that much exposure to women or girls other than Eom Bok Soon. She was a mother figure to Moon Jo and she tortured him. So obviously that scarred him. It’s very likely that he didn’t have a loving childhood or maternal love for that matter. And his friends, roommates or classmates would have been all boys. So it’s likely that for these reasons, he is more comfortable around guys compared to women. I don’t think it’s his sexuality. It’s just the way he grew up.

Moon Jo is 100% attracted to Jung Woo, there’s no denying that. But I don’t think he is exclusively or strictly gay. Straight, Gay, Bi… these labels mean a person is in general attracted to opposite and/or same sex. Straight people are in general attracted to opposite sex, Gay people are attracted in general to same sex and Bi people are attracted in general to both sexes. Moon Jo is none of these. Seo Moon Jo is annoyed by most people in general. Jung Woo is an exception. I don’t think he was that attracted to Ki Hyuk. Moon Jo and Ki Hyuk were more like Boss and Boss’s right hand man rather than lovers. Other than Jung Woo, he finds most people to be uninteresting, boring and/or annoying. So in my opinion, none of the usual labels are applicable for him.

I think, Moon Jo’s attraction doesn’t depend on a person’s gender or sex at all. If he is emotionally and psychologically attracted to someone, he will be attracted to that person. If his mind is attracted, his body would follow. In my opinion, if Yoon Jung Woo was a woman with same mindset, same personality, same instincts and same madness, Moon Jo would still be attracted to that person. If Jung Woo was an alien from a different planet, he would still be attracted to him. I believe the terms for that are Demisexual or Sapiosexual ( I often joke he’s Jungwoosexual). I don’t want to label Moon Jo in any way, he’s too complex to put a definition on him. But if I had to define his sexuality to some extent, I would say, in a broad sense, he’s Demisexual or Sapiosexual.

[i-smoke-chapstick]

‘WILDFLOWER AND BARLEY,

-GOTHAM!EDWARD NYGMA X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; Sometimes you don’t think you deserve him….other times, you think it’s for the best that you stay.

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!riddler x female reader. SMUT AND ANGST!! reader is toxic, but eddie is too, so its ok. eddy being vanilla but also strangely dominant. guys this fic is FILTHY. also,, part 3 to gotham characters eating you out. takes place with like season 2 eddy, post kringle. Did i write a fic inspired by a Hozier song that isn’t even released yet? yes. readers taking advantage of eddy. but also, eddy is more than willing to give. kind of a character study. im so sorry if i made reader too mean ive had this idea for a week😭

fic requested by @clementine-writes-things <3

♫ “My coffee black in my bed at 3 / You’re too sweet for me. You’re too sweet for me.” Wildflower and Barley by Hozier

You’d fucked up, majorly.

God, what were you thinking?

Edward Nygma, the quirky forensics guy. The loon, as your fellow officers eloquently put it. And you didn’t necessarily disagree. He was certainly a peculiar fellow. He had always a thing for…what was her name? Kristen Kringle. That was it. You’d been working with him for years, watching him moon after her. You could…understand the appeal, you guessed. She had a sexy sixties librarian type of thing going for her. She kept to herself. Maybe you should��ve done the same. She’d dissapeared a few weeks ago.

You somehow landed yourself in the bed of Edward Nygma. You’d been hooking up…For the past two weeks in a row. No judgement, yeah?

It started as a joke. You and the other officers, chatting with beers and obnoxious comments towards the other tools in the GCPD. Jim Gordon…Harvey Bullock. The way the men couldn’t seem to keep their mouthes shut, especially Jim.

Well, you’d gotten plenty tipsy, staying after work. You pummled those beers back like it was your last night alive. And hell, living in gotham? As an officer? It very well could be.

They were all drunk and laughing out of their minds. Anything anyone said seemed overly funny. Especially when one of your fellow cops brought up the name, “Nygma” like the name was it’s own disease.

“You think Y/N could sleep with him?”

“Yeah, Y/N, go fuck the loon. I wonder what it’s like.”

“You think he says riddles when hes cumming?”

“Whats long, hard, and has ‘cum’ in the middle?”

The numerous voices of your “friends” rung out, and in the moment, drunk out if your mind, you too thought it was the funniest thing in the world.

“I could do it.” You affirmed, alcohol giving you the liquid courage you wouldn’t typically have. After the “oooooo”ing from some of your coworkers, you decided, fuck it. Edward was tall, had nice cheekbones, and was smart. You could do worse than a one night stand.

So you confidently marched into that forensics room, high on the dare the other cops had given you.

You found him, looking into one of the forensics mirrors. He was muttering to himself and you snorted. Weirdo. Oh well.

He pushed up his glasses when you two made eye contact. He was sweating, for some reason, in that lanky labcoat and rubber-gloved hands. He stood up straight and went rigid when he saw you.

“Ms. L/N-“ He was about to question, when you rammed your lips onto his. You remember it like yesterday- how hesitant he was. The way he parted for air, breathing wildly at you. He kept trying to ask questions the whole time you were eagerly undressing him. But he didn’t seem to mind your fowardness.

Well, just your luck, that one night stand was the best fuck of your life. The way his cock fitted perfectly into your body, like it was made for your cunt alone. You two fucked on the forensics cabinets, your coworkers in the next room over, and it was exhilarating. Especially when the usually reserved Ed got unusually rough, pulling your hair and smacking your ass just right.

By the time you two were done…you were fucked out of your mind. Pleasantly surprised.

Since then, you hadn’t been able to get away. You told the cops it was vanilla, and reveled in their dismay. But…you came back for seconds. And then thirds. And then fourths. And then you couldn’t remember the last time you woke up in your own bed.

And just as if you were Kristen…he started following you. Your coworkers snickered. You’d see homemade cupcakes left on your desk. You’d catch him staring at you from the other side of the precint. You writhed under his gaze. For a man with not much expirence, he was obnoxiously good at sex. And he was even more obnoxiously good at not understanding the meaning of coworkers with benefits, and not a relationship.

But…mornings like these? You can’t complain.

Taking yourself back to the present, you awoke in his bed. The sunlight of the open windows bled through your eyelids, and you felt yourself smack your lips. You blinked yourself awake, same as you always did. You shifted underneath the covers, which had been neatly adjusted over you. It was infuriatingly comfortable. You let a yawn escape your lips.

“Ah, good! You’re awake!” You heard his voice chime, far off in the kitchen. You looked up, seeing his tall frame. He stared at you adoringly, and you felt your heart pang.

He carried a tray of coffee and breakfast. You sat up. It was the usual morning routine. He made the most exquisite breakfasts for you.

“A necessity to some, a treasure to many. I’m best enjoyed among pleasant company. Some like me hot, some like me cold. Some prefer me mild, others prefer me bold. What am I?” He spoke the riddle quickly.

You blinked at him, tired. You shrugged nonchalantly.

He made his way over to you, swiftly and delicatley placing the tray in your lap.

“Coffee.” He looked a bit dissapointed at your lack of answer, but brightened back up instantly. “Almost black, not quite. 1 Sugar. No cream. Just how you like it.” He noted, and it was in this moment, you felt the weight of your actions. He’d memorized everything about you. Whatever records you liked, he’d play softly. He’d learned your favorite flavor cupcake, and how you took your coffee. Gods, he’d even bought the brand of toothpaste you had at your house, so it was familiar brushing your teeth in the morning.

You squinted, adjusting yourself to the sunlight of the room. Golden. You felt the weight of the tray, and met his gaze. God, it was intense. The way his big, puppy dog like eyes harrowed in on you. Like you were the world.

He was practically wagging his tail, watching you take a slow sip of coffee. He wanted praise, as though perfected it, finally.

He was too sweet for you. You didn’t deserve any of this. But selfishly…you couldn’t resist.

You gave him a small nod in approval, letting the liquid glide down your throat. Damn it, The coffee was perfect.

He positioned himself next to you on the bed, sitting, legs crossed. He looked at you almost creepily, eyes never leaving as you finished your breakfast and coffee. You didn’t say a word to him, but you did listen to him ramble quite a bit. Every now and then he’d ask a casual question, and you’d stay silent, or give him a one worded answer. You’d see his smile falter, but he’d continue.

When you were done, he’d grab the tray from your hands. You let him do the work for you. You liked his bed. He came back, eyes big and bright. He sat once more, looking at you expectantly. You furrowed your brows.

“…What?”

He shrugged, giving a slightly nervous, manic giggle. You cringed a bit, but faltered when you felt his fingertips glide across your thigh.

Oh. Thats what.

“…We have work in an hour.” You replied. The mantra played in your head. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve him. You felt guilty.

“I’ll be quick.” He affirmed, peeling the covers back. Oh, fuck it. Who were you to deny him?

He didn’t lie, he was fast. The covers exposed your skin, still undressed from the previous night. You felt the cool air on your thighs and pussy, and couldn’t help it. You caved.

In an instant, he was worshipping your legs, working his way up. He kept eye contact with you, laying gentle bites and pecks into the plush of your skin.

He kissed his way up, tonguing the bite marks he left in his wake. You shivered when his lips hovered over your pussy. He wasted no time. No, he didn’t tease you, he needed to please you as quickly as he could. It was a need for him.

His tongue came into contact with your pussy lips, and you shivered. Instinctivley, you threaded your hands through his morning messy hair, and shoved his face into you. He reciprocated instantly, wanting nothing more than to make you feel good. He licked up and down, tongue flicking gently on your cute little pearl of a clit.

He circles it and taps it with his tongue, saliva dripping and mixing with your juices. His movements are quick and calculated, and he indulges you, body and soul. He hums in pleasure when you arch your back up into him uncontrollably. It’s almost uncharacteristic- the way he switches from being so soft and gentle, to practically making out with your pussy. You feel his fingers dig into your thighs, like he’s a whole different person when he’s mouth fucking you.

Your moaning and shaking, saying his name over and over. Somehow, your getting off to this. To the idea you don’t deserve him. That he’s such a nicer, better, smarter person than you. And although he doesn’t vocalize it, you wonder if he strangely shares the sentiment.

It’s almost like he knows. Like he’s self-aware- of all your selfish thoughts. Like this, him eating you out, him on his knees for you, making you breakfast in bed- is some sort of revenge.

He knows what he’s doing. He’s making you feel awful, guilty for your mistreatment of him- by giving you more and more of him. And you find yourself cumming in his mouth at the thought.

He greedily laps at your swollen clit, overstimulating you. You let out a loud yelp, and he keeps going, only for a few more seconds.

It’s weird. He’s weird. But as you sober up from your orgasm, shaking underneath him, you brush those strange thoughts from your head.

You look into his gentle eyes again, watching him ramble off apologies. You two will most definitely be late to work. You scold yourself. Why would you think such an odd thing? No, he’s a complete sweetheart. Not a degrading bone in his body. You think.

Yet…you still feel the bruises forming on your thighs. And the burning guilt of using him.

You left his aparment in a hurry, driving yourself insane. You seem to convice yourself it was a weird orgasm thought, maybe you’re more kinky than you thought; for some pseudo pyschological self degradtion.

You go to the precint, just as you do every other day. The work is effectively still just as boring and your peers are still just as insufferable.

You’re given a few files by some mysoginistic cop you haven’t aquainted yourself with, who obviously assumed you were the new record keeper. You snort, but decide to take it. You browse over the files, snooping. They are forensic files, and your heart drops. Ah. You’ll have to give these to him.

You enter the forensic room without knocking- at least, you’re about to. But you hear him mumbling to himself, and decide to listen in for a moment. Curiosity getting the best of you.

“You’re too good to her.” You hear him argue with…himself? “You need to show her whose in charge.”

“I am!” He retaliates to his own voice.

“By making her coffee?” He snarls, and your brows furrow. He smashes a file cabinet closed loudly. You jump.

“Yes!” Ed’s voice growls out, fed up. “If you were smart enough to understand-“ He begins, and you’ve heard enough. You enter the room.

Ed looks at you bewildered, and you look at the same. He’s sweating, and his hair is in dissaray. You two make eyecontact and you grimace. What the hell?

You hardly register what he was actually saying, and more that he was having a seemingly very heated conversation with himself. You watch him fumble with his glasses.

“…Ed?” You question, and he snaps.

“What are you doing here?” His voice is quick and sharp. Thats uncharacteristic. You wince.

“Uh, files.” You nod to the papers in your hands, and he blinks, standing up straight. He clears his throat.

“Right.” He recovers, quickly. You narrow your eyes at him, and hum, giving them to him. He’s about to speak, but you rush yourself out of the room, heart pounding.

He is weird. He is a freak. You chime. Your coworkers have been right.

Any shred of pity you had for him has dwindled significantly, and you mull it over in your mind.

Maybe you do deserve eachother, You think. You’re the best he’s going to get.

[delirious-donna]

Ok, hear me out... We know Nanami is pretty much the perfect man. But, I feel like he can be a bit like Monica Geller sometimes. He likes his apartment perfectly cleaned and organised. If you mess it up a bit, he'll fix it. But I know it will drive him insane at some point, and he'll have to .. well ... Teach you some manners. Thoughts? 😬

Perfectionist Nanami? Who knew…

Kento has a place for everything and everything should be in its place. He doesn’t mind at first when you start moving things around, it’s kinda cute… until it’s not.

You’re far from messy, but even you would admit that you were far from concerned about being neat and tidy at all times. Why put it away now when you could do it a little later? However, your boyfriend disagreed and you had definitely noticed.

At first you did your best to keep your newly shared apartment to the condition that he liked, tidying things away then and there rather than letting things sit. Yet, old habits die hard and it wasn’t long before you fell back into those more laidback routines.

Maybe the slight twitch of his eye was a part of it too. Perhaps the faint huff Kento breathed through his nose was just a little bit too funny. You wouldn’t start to deliberately move things around simply to antagonise him a little… would you?

Regardless of the reason, it came to a head when your blonde beau caught you in the act of moving something from its correct resting place. Caught red-handed and the clicking of his tongue hitting the back of his teeth caused a shiver of trepidation down your spine.

“What’s this, my love? I don’t think that belongs there, and I know you know that too… do you need a lesson in proper manners?”

It’s rhetorical; you already know what is flashing through his mind as his large hand wraps lightly around your wrist and he begins to lead you towards the bedroom.

Sweat slicks your skin, pitiful cries bouncing off every wall and surface, and you try again to plead with him. For over an hour, Kento has brought you to the brink of ecstasy only to refuse you falling over the edge. A myriad of bruises covered your most tender areas; your neck, breasts, stomach and inner thighs pulsing from his punishing mouth. You’d been made to ride his thick thigh until your legs shook with that need to be filled and yet he still denied you. His tongue had toyed with your glossy slit, lashing at your clit but never getting close enough to your desperately clenching cunt.

��K-Kento—please! I need you to put it in!”

His laughter rumbled from between your thighs, hair falling into his eyes and you mewled.

“Now why should I put my cock where it belongs when you won’t show me the same courtesy?”

You’d never make that mistake again…

[ejzah]

A/N: Taking a little break from my super angsty, dark fic and guess what we have today? You got it, more flirting!

***

The Agent and the Fireman, Part 11

By unspoken agreement, Kensi was paired with Deeks as his partner/handler. Although they’d worked with non-federal liaisons in the past, she’d never been responsible for one before. At least Deeks seemed perfectly at ease with the situation.

For the sake of time and efficiency, they’d decided Deeks would tag along for any interviews Kensi conducted, but would stay back if the situation turned more dangerous. Deeks had rolled his eyes at that stipulation, pointing to his battered forehead in an apparent reference to the dangers he faced on a daily basis, but didn’t verbally protest.

As she’d noticed at the fire sites, there was an easy confidence about Deeks that spoke volumes. He let her take the lead, but wasn’t afraid to speak up if he had a relevant question or piece of information. She liked that. Liked that he was sure enough in himself and his skills that he wasn’t intimidated by working with federal agents or trying to out show them.

“I bet this isn’t quite what you expected when your captain offered you up to us,” Kensi guessed as they left their third interview of the day, taking the long walk back to road where they’d been able to park her SUV.

Jason McHenry appeared to have gone to ground so they were hoping family and old acquaintances might be able to shed some light. So far, they’d learned little aside from confirmation that McHenry liked to keep to himself and was mostly self-taught.

“I mean, every day can’t be filled with shootouts and fire engulfed buildings, can it?” Deeks said with a sardonic grin. “It’s ok. Since I’m on restricted duty, I’d probably be stuck in admin. At least this way, I have the chance to accomplish something.”

“Oh, well I’m glad that it’s not all terrible for you.”

“The company is pretty good.” Deeks winked, the twinkle his eyes making Kensi blush. If he stared at her like that much longer, she might just spontaneously combust. She cleared her throat and made a vague sweeping gesture with her arm.

“So, now that you’ve seen what we do, you think you might make the jump, become a federal agent?” Kensi asked Deeks with a confident grin. “We’re pretty amazing, right?”

“You are,” Deeks agreed. “Especially one agent in particular.” He paused a beat. “I’m speaking of Agent Hanna of course.” He dodged her elbow, grinning, and shrugged. “No, I have no desire to leave the LAFD. I love what I do now. And, I’d say I’m pretty damn good at it most of the time.”

“Modest,” Kensi commented, but didn’t disagree.

“I don’t have any reason to leave,” he reiterated.

She expected as much, but still was curious if he saw any elements of NCIS that appealed to him. Outside of present company.

“I wouldn’t mind working with you every day, but I would miss the suspenders.”

Deeks’ eyes widened, his head tilting as he considered her. His mouth curved with that teasing, half-grin Kensi had grown to love in an amazingly short amount of time.

“So the, uh, gear really does it for you, huh?”

“Maybe.” She brushed a stray curl off his forehead, eyeing him playfully. “Among other things.”

He nodded like he was tucking that revelation away for later. The thought made her stomach tighten pleasantly in anticipation.

“Oh? Do I get to hear about these “other things”?” he inquired.

Kensi looked him over, taking her time to study the fit of his button down shirt and the jeans he’d swapped out for his usual slacks or overalls. She adjusted the collar of his shirt and took another glance at his remarkably tight jeans. “Mm, I think that’ll have to wait for our makeup date,” she decided.

“Which can’t get here fast enough.” He sighed, slipping on a pair shades as they reached the SUV again.

Kensi’s phone beeped in her pocket and she pulled it out, scanning a text from Callen.

“Callen and Sam recovered several items from McHenry’s apartment,” she told Deeks. “We’re meeting them at the boat shed again.”

***

Deeks tilted his head, watching Sam Hanna methodically lay out a collection of mechanical and electrical pieces on the table.

“We found a hidden compartment in Jason McHenry’s apartment with this, a thumb drive, and a whole lot of cash in it,” Sam explained. “He either didn’t have time to clear everything out of didn’t come back at all.”

“Those look like—”

“The components of an incendiary device,” Deeks finished softly for Kensi, picking up a small electrical board. He builds his own.”

“You sound impressed,” Kensi said, observing his movements closely.

“It’s a sophisticated device.” He slid several components together, talking as he worked. “This lets McHenry control when the fire starts, he can set it for a specific time, and with the accelerants he uses, most of the components of the device are destroyed in the fire.” With a little flourish, he held up a finished example.

“That was hot,” Kensi said in a hushed voice.

Deeks glanced at her in amusement, catching Sam shaking his head.

“Glad you approve.”

“That doesn’t tell us where McHenry is hiding out,” Callen said. Deeks nodded in agreement, carefully replacing each piece in its former designated spot.

“True. But it does answer some of the questions we had about the fire,” he pointed out.

“You said there was a thumb drive too,” Kensi reminded Sam. “Was there anything on it?”

“Eric and Nell are looking at it now. All the files are encrypted, so it’s going to take some time for them to access the data,” Callen spoke up.

“So far, all they have is a communication between Jason McHenry and an unknown party.” Sam inclined his head. “The wording’s too vague to determine the topic.”

“Alright, it’s going to take a while for Eric and Nell to finish the decryption,” Callen said. “You’re welcome to stay if you want Deeks, but there’ll probably be a lot of down time and you’ve had a couple rough days.”

“I have the sense I’m being dismissed,” Deeks said wryly.

“Only because we care,” Sam drawled, drawing a snort from Deeks.

“Ok, I’ll go. Text me when you find out anything new though.”

“Sure thing.” Callen glanced at Kensi with a smirk. “Kens, you want to drive him home?”

“Of course,” Kensi said quickly, like he might change his mind.

“Be back in an…hour and half,” Callen added. “Is that enough time for you two?”

“Not really,” she answered, blithely resting a hand on Deeks’ back. “But we’ll make do.”

***

A/N: No, I know nothing about incendiary devices. And yes, I am warping investigation procedures to suit my needs.

[khaire-traveler]

Hello!

I apologise if this is a bit of a silly ask, but I’m feeling a bit worried and I wondered if you could provide some insight, since you seem quite familiar with Hermes!

Last night, one of my aunt’s rabbits sadly passed away. I wanted to do something to help, but I couldn’t do anything in person due to being unwell; I could only think to pray to a God for help, and Hermes was the only deity that came to mind.

I reached out to Hermes to ask if he might be able to look out for my aunt during her time of grief, and perhaps offer her some comfort if possible, as her bunnies got her through a lot in her life and she is devastated. I left an offering of fresh water as a “thank-you in advance”. However, I felt like my prayer fell on deaf ears, and like I did something inappropriate or overstepped.

I don’t actively worship the Gods anymore due to poor mental health, I only reach out to them occasionally to ask for help, and give offerings as thanks when I can (saying that out loud makes me feel kind of bad, actually).

I haven’t worried about this sort of thing for some time, so I feel a bit silly.. I’m just nervous that I may have messed up, and I’m hoping that I didn’t because I’d like to get to know Hermes better, and I’d hate it if I ruined any future opportunity.

- Lio

Hey, Lio, thank you for the ask. I'm so sorry for your aunt's loss. I wish her peace during this time. 🫂

How you're feeling isn't silly at all and is something I see often when someone is unable to worship the gods more directly. It's something I've experienced myself. It may be some form of religious trauma or something that causes the feelings, but I'm no expert on the topic. Just know that these feelings are common, and you are not alone in experiencing anxiety after giving offerings and asking for help.

In my opinion, I don't see anything that would upset Hermes. I'm not Hermes, so I can't really speak for him, but from my experience, I doubt any of those things actually upset him. He is a great deity to ask for help from in times of grief as well as to ask aid from in guiding a soul to the underworld. I have asked him for help in similar situations, even without giving an offering straight away, and he was receptive. I don't think he'd be mad at you for this, but if it's something you're extremely concerned about, I'd recommend asking him directly about the situation, maybe through divination or asking him to send you a sign or dream. From my perspective, though, I think everything's ok. 🧡

You may be feeling it fell on deaf ears because you might be feeling a bit disconnected from your spirituality and/or worship right now. I know whenever I've taken a step away from religion, it can be difficult to pray during those times because I feel extremely disconnected from deities and have a more difficult time sensing their energy and the like. Maybe you're in a similar situation where it's been a while since you've called upon a deity, so you're a bit "out of practice", in a sense, when it comes to sensing energy. This is just a suggestion for what you're experiencing, however; it's perfectly ok if you disagree or believe that something else is the cause. Just know deity disconnect is normal and happens to people all the time. I've had moments where I'm genuinely unable to tell if a deity can even hear my prayers only to later find out that they definitely did. Please know that feeling disconnected doesn't mean they aren't there or listening. It will be ok. 🫂

Hope this response helped! I obviously can't speak for Hermes himself, so all of this is just based on my experiences and opinions. I hope it was reassuring, though. It might help to focus on grounding yourself for the time being, then approach the situation when you're feeling a bit more clear-minded if you can. I think everything's ok, and your feelings are not silly at all. Take care, and have a great day/night. 🧡

[ofmermaidstories]

About blocked anon. In general i agree with merms. Howevre. Ok im a silent reaer too for the most part. Tried a sideblog, but i get sidetracked and end up not using it. If the writer has an ao3 i try to leave a comment there but i have more trouble reblogging and interacting on tumblr fro some reason. I have been blocked too for not reblogging fics! But honestly I don't feel particularly bad about it cause I feel like I can't really blame a writer for blocking ppl who don't support their fics.

Like, it's not about talking to the writer, it's about reblogging their fics and show appreciation to the work they put in them and posting them for others. If that's important to that particular writer and they don't feel good with ppl who just lurk (like me) then it's their right to deal with it however they see fit.

I still look at their blog thoughthey just don't show on my dash. If anon wants to put the work and reblog and comment fics on a side blog if they don't want to do so on their main, and ask the writer to unblock them i'm sure they will (unless there's a different reason, like maybe the writer saw soemthign on anon's blog and was like "hmm don't like that". Can't do anything about that.)

You’re allowed to disagree with me, Anon, LOL, I promise don’t mind it—a difference of opinion (on inane things, and I would consider anything that happens on tumblr dot com short of harassment to be inane) is good! Healthy. 😌 Mix things up a bit. But—okay, let’s talk about the reblog debate.

I just don’t vibe with it, LOL. I don’t vibe with sniping people for being lurkers. 💅🏽✨ I don’t respect it, actually, if we’re going to get serious—yes, people can (and should!) curate their followings as they need to. If someone decides to deny you access to their online space then, no, you can’t do anything about it. I just also happen to think it’s one of the more stupid reasons you can block someone lmfao.

I know that the general (touted) thought process behind blocking lurkers is generally a parroted, “it’s about supporting writers”. And to be honest, I would respect the push more if people just admitted they wanted more comments LMAO. Because!!! I think that’s perfectly fine!!! It’s okay to be like, “hey I worked hard on this, and I would like to see a big fat number of notes or to have people in my inbox”. We are real people—real people taking the time and effort to create fun things for free, and it can be bitterly disappointing to have that met with silence or entitlement.

The solution to that though isn’t blocking people for being silent readers. Because that’s turning around and doing to them exactly want we don’t want done to us, as writers—it reduces them from being living human beings to numbers who are measured by how they can best serve (or “support”) you.

I can hear the “Merms this isn’t this serious, we just want more people to reblog fics” already but tbh… it is. I think it is because it lets the worst of us get away with treating each other really, really appallingly. You are absolutely allowed to deny someone access to your online space. But if you’re denying them that access and also making them feel bad (“you haven’t reblogged enough fics/you haven’t liked enough of my posts to fill the weekly quota/you’re not doing enough for me to be allowed to see this content I provide online publicly and for free”) then idk… sounds like ur the problem to me.

And look, I don’t say that easily. Tumblr has always been a site where mass hysteria breeds like mould; it tends to happen when online spaces become our Third Place for socialising. We don’t have the normal, social safety-rails that like, actual real-world Places like work or school have for us—we’re unleashed here in our downtime and feel protected by the anonymity of a screen. By the fact that we can’t see each other’s faces when we say things like, “you don’t do enough for me” to random strangers. I don’t like that! So I don’t police it on my own blog. 🫡

Fandom is one of the precious few spaces we have where anything goes. You can create whatever you want, however you want, and it’s all done purely for the love of it. It’s indulgent and silly and fun. So to come into this space and then directly make demands of the other people in it (“reblog x number of fics or else you’re not a real member of the community”) goes against the spirit of why we’re all in this shared space in the first place.

We can absolutely have a conversation about how to support each other—writers and readers—without fear mongering about lurkers being why “omg the community is dying”. I think the community is falling into a lull because people get obsessed with new things; a new show or game. New technology, like ChatGPT for instance, which gives maybe otherwise passive readers a chance to create their own fiction or pocket boyfriend, instantly. Maybe it’s even a generational thing—a change in how people socialise. We are in constant contact with each other, with constant availability—controlling what little we can, what we spend our energy on or how we engage with things in our third space is sometimes only control we have. I’m sure we could even dig digger about like, the consumerist behaviour and entitlements so many of us subconciously take on now—wanting instant updates or reading completed fics only or taking it for granted that we’ll be given an entire season to binge in one go.

I appreciate that writers want to push back against the audience entitlement that can come with creating readily available smut about popular characters. And yeah, reblogging does help showcase art and writing! But it can’t be demanded. It just can’t. Just how no-one has the right to demand you write how they want you to, or upload when they want you to, you don’t have a right to dictate how engage with your work (beyond not being dicks to it!!!!!! underscore!!!!!!).

Should we try and support each other, even through a small act like a reblog? Yes!!! It’s so so so good!!! Despite the essay I’ve just written, I am all for support being shown in whatever small way it can be!!!! But—there’s no entry fee, to being in a fandom. Not for lurkers, not for active readers, not for writers and not for artists. Demanding a fee like that just pushes people away and feeds them into traps like ChatGPT, which, while I understand and emphasise with it’s popularity (especially for younger readers), I will never support it. It’s using it’s current popularity as free training and when it’s learnt enough it will be monetised, but only after it’s stolen so much from all of us. And this is why we should protect the freedom of things like fanfic, and why we should say no to trying to turn each other into numbers or updates—we’re already products that are being sold, in so many other aspects of our lives. We desperately need spaces where we are free to be unhinged about little kissy stories and the characters they’re attached to.

I’m sorry Anon, I know you were just offering a counterpoint to blocked anon lmao, and I didn’t mean to unleash—but I am actually incredibly passionate about this topic, and the broader implications for the community a debate like this brings.

[alarrytale]

Ok phew I was worried I’d pissed you off. I agree, let’s ignore the citrus bikes from now on. Brand deal or not he’s getting them attention we don’t need to give them more.

Nooo, i'm not pissed off, i love a good discussion and i don't care if people disagree with me. It would be boring if everyone agreed with me on everything and i love to be challenged. I'm not always right about everything and i love to hear your arguments. I don't want an eccho chamber and if you all agreed with everything i said and believed, i would turn very suspicious. You all have a mind of your own, your own experiences and information you base your beliefs and opinion on. You and i disagreeing on whether Harry's own bike would be stolen or not is hardly the end of the world lol. You were perfectly polite and made your arguments well.

There are only a few subjects that i just don't want to discuss on my blog and that's whether or not larry is real (i have a larry blog, that's a given), TS and that god damn citrus fruit bicycle brand.

[fandomshatepeopleofcolor]

Correct me if I’m wrong, but I feel like since The Little Mermaid live action is very different from the original and kind of its own thing, we could say that in this specific version, Ariel’s race does have a special place even though it doesn’t affect the plot at all? I mean, I’m pretty sure that the change from a European setting to a more Southern American one (where there’s plenty of Black and Brown people) was heavily influenced by the casting of Halle Bailey (which is absolutely not a bad thing)! And it fits perfectly with this specific version of Ariel!

Because I don’t think it would have happened if they had cast a white actress? And I feel like either they had planned the change of setting way before casting and already wanted a Black or Brown girl before auditions even started (and I remember seeing an article that said they were looking for a woman of color) or when they picked Halle they had the idea to change the setting to make something new and make it stand apart from the original?

I’m not sure wether I’m being clear or not but what I mean to say is that this specific of version of Ariel was made specifically for Black and Brown children and if they make, like, a stage adaptation of it, a white woman as the lead wouldn’t really fit? Same way that if they had decided to set it in South Asia, having a white actress playing her wouldn’t really fit, you know what I mean??

Ok so I totally agree with you but I only disagree on one point: I don't think that we can legitimately say that Prince Eric's mother the queen was queen of a south american country. Like geographically yes I know what you mean about it being tropical and surrounded by coral which only grows in a certain temperature. HOWEVER, I find it hard to believe that the live action little mermaid was based on any country in our history with the engrained chattel slavery.

Like let me see if I can give an example. So black panther is set in a similar earth to ours but the way they isolated themselves with technological advances means they weren't victim to slavery. but that history of slavery globally still impacts them and the fandom was very adamant about not shipping white women with T'Challa a Black king of an African country.

Whereas Prince Eric was the adopted son of a Black queen who I suspect didn't feel the need to only adopt a black son. The Queen didn't even seem to mind that the previously hostile mermaids were changing. Like King Triton overcame his prejudice for humans and made a solid show of mending their relationship. So I don't think its a similar setting wrt race relations to our history.

But I'm not black so I defer to other Black bloggers. Like Ariel's race matters to us because we see her in our context but that racial barrier is removed from the Queen's viewpoint because she herself is Black. So yeah if they ever cast a white Ariel taking it from the movie it would be whitewashing.

mod ali

[oatmealcrisp-freak]

ok, sorry, i think im officially abandoning agwito :3 it's been fun but i just really don't feel like writing it anymore! if i ever get the gumption up to give it a proper ending i'll be surprised. here's the last bit that i had written under the readmore :3 tumblr exclusive!! thanks again

Though she was now a volumployee of Spirits and Such Consulting so she could get on her supernatural swag, Tome Kurata still had one teensy eensy problem.

Well, okay, she had several, least of which was the fact that her socks were cutting into her calves and making for a sensory nightmare as she ran.

No, her problem was what it usually was.

Aliens.

“Catch… that…!” 

And, okay, the stitch in her side was a big one too. Ou, ouch, that wasn’t a fun sensation. She wheezed hard, watching with hopeless eyes as the back she was chasing faded into the distance, his antenna blinking in the sun then winking right out. She groaned, and collapsed to her knees.

She’d lost.

“Uhm. Are you o-”

She whisked out a hand, her other too busy clutching at her face, as she reeled in the swamps of defeat.

“Not now, Mob. I’m reeling in the swamps of defeat,” Tome groaned.

There was a beat, then Mob said, “I don’t know what that means but okay.”

Uhg, did nothing mean anything to this boy? She whipped her hand away from her face so she could glare at him but Mob only eyed her with his usual sedate expression.

Sometimes he reminded her a bit of a cow. One of those very calm cows, simply at peace with its life in a vast grassy field so it thought about nothing much. Yes, a cow with big liquid dark eyes and a mopey face. He did love milk. Maybe he drank so much of it because of the resemblance. 

It didn’t strike Tome to think that might be mean, or that it might be inaccurate. Why would it?

Tacking that one to the conspiracy board of her mind, Tome flung a pair of pointed hands at him.

“What that means,” She explained, and pretended that she wasn’t pleased to be able to explain something, “Is that Saiki’s gotten away from me AGAIN!”

“Oh.”

Mob took that in. Then he squinted a little bit. “So what does that have to do with swamps-”

She hopped to her feet and caught Mob around the shoulders, poking a finger into his chest.

“You! You can help me!”

Mob also poked himself in the chest and said, “Me?”

Tome grinned and nodded, in love with herself and her mystical magical ideas. She was so smart!

“Yes, you. You’re friends, right? So you can help me catch him! I just want to ask him a few questions is all.”

That was a lie. But what she did want started with only a few questions like, “So what kind of alien are you” and “can you take me to your leader”. That was neither here nor there, though. What was here and there was getting Mob to agree with her.

Mob looked at her with his big dark eyes, and looked at her, and looked at her.

“I don’t think I should do that, Tome,” He disagreed with her and Tome hit the floor with a wail. 

“But why noooooot!” She pouted after jumping back up, fixing her shirt where it was tucked into her skirt. All this running about had mussed her outfit.

“If he’s running away from you, I think that means he must not want to talk to you very much,” Mob said.

Then he frowned, and inexplicably Tome felt suddenly very very bad indeed.

“He’s not doing very well right now. So be nice to him, okay?”

“Pshaw, what’s that supposed to mean?” Tome pouted and looked away, brushing hair behind her ear and trying not to be uncomfortable. “I’m being perfectly nice! I’m only attempting to befriend your friend, but he keeps running away from me.”

“Oh.” Mob said, then tilted his head and said, “Maybe he doesn’t want to be your friend.”

Then he turned and walked away like he hadn’t just shattered Tome’s pride to the core. 

Ow.

Ou ow.

It wasn’t only the stitch in her side that hurt anymore.

~~~

Another of Tome’s problems was thus.

“Hello, my name is Kokomi Teruhas-” Started an astonishingly beautiful girl but Tome screamed and ran away before she could finish.

It wasn’t only her, though.

“Heyo baby-oh,” Started an astonishingly beautiful girl with a wink and a v-sign. “My name is Mikoto Aiura, let’s be razzledazzl-”

Tome also screamed in her face and ran away again before she could finish.

‘Good grief,’ She rubbed the sweat away from her forehead and clutched at her chest. ‘I keep losing my cool. But there’s so many beautiful people at this resort, and for some reason they keep talking to me. I can’t cope with this!’

“Uhm, are you okay?” Said a feminine voice from behind her and instantly filled with the cold weight of dread, Tome turned around with the aching slowness of a person who fully expected to die any moment. She couldn’t take this. If it was another astonishingly beautiful person, girl or boy, she swore she’d-

It was a girl with a strawberry blond bob decorated with a cute little bow and big cinnamon eyes. She sort of reminded Tome of that Mezato girl that hung around with Mob sometimes, and the familiarity seemed founded in good fortune because Tome sagged in relief.

“Oh thank goodness, you’re not beautiful at all.” She said.

The girl’s look of concern flattened in an instant. “What.”

Tome realized a little too late what she said and started, then tried to smile and play it off. 

“Well, I mean-!”

But the girl was already walking away.

Tome thought about chasing after her to apologize properly because that had been an incredibly rude thing to say, but, well, it wasn’t like the girl was an alien and worth the cardio. 

‘Besides, it’s not as though I’ll probably ever see her again,’ Tome thought as she watched after the stranger as she rubbed the back of her head. ‘Yeah. I’m sure it’s fine.’

Anyways, she was supposed to meet everyone at the taco restaurant just a couple blocks away from the hotel. She sighed and shook her head, and decided to just look forward to good food.

Only when she got there-

“Mob, hey,” Tome started and lifted her hand in a wave.

Mob turned around and put on a smile to welcome her. “Master said I should wait outside for you since you’re late.”

“Haha, yeah, am I? Sorry.” Tome said as they walked into the restaurant. “I got a bit. Uhm. Distracted. You know UFOs. Geeze, it’s really busy in here, what gives?”

“I guess this restaurant is really popular. We’re seated over here.” Mob said with a pointing finger and led her to a table. Through the crowd it was hard to tell who all was there but Tome could see a pair of pink antenna and had to resist rubbing her hands together in villainous glee. Saiki would be trapped with her and the rules of social convention would bow him to her will, it was perfect.

“Saiki, hey-” Tome started, and then clued in on who was seated either side of Saiki. It was the blond and blue bombshells, and next to the blue bombshell was the girl who she’d accidentally insulted to her face.

Oh yeah.

Those were Saiki’s friends.

Her jaw cracked where it hit the table.

Saiki sighed, and said it for her. “Good grief.”

~~~

It shouldn’t have been so difficult to get through an all expenses paid lunch but being staunchly ignored while simultaneously surrounded by not just beauty but very, uh, loud personalities really put a damper in her appetite. Which was too bad. The tacos were really good.

‘I guess at least she hasn’t tried to talk to me,’ Tome thought, resisting the urge to sink very low in her seat indeed because hoo boy, this was not comfortable. ‘But those looks she’s giving me…’

The name of the girl she’d insulted to her face was Chiyo Yumehara and Chiyo Yumehara was evidently very talented at giving ghoul-like, empty-eyed smiles that zinged Tome every time those eyes scraped by her. They were just for her, too. When she wasn’t fawning over a boy with wild hair and red bandages, or talking with the blue and blonde bombshells, or eating a staggering amount of food that surely spoke to her work out regime, Yumehara was making her antipathy of Tome known.

But she wasn’t saying anything about it.

Worse still the restaurant was so jam-packed that it made it stiflingly hot, or maybe that was just the redhaired guy who seemed to put off heat like a furnace. He’d even melted his shaved ice.

It struck Tome that Saiki was by no means the only person in his friend group who was a little odd. Whether his friends were also of extraterrestrial origin was yet to be determined.

And to be honest, she wasn’t sure she felt like determining anything right now. The atmosphere, real and metaphorical, were so claustrophobic that, honestly? She didn’t even wanna speak.

Usually that would only incite Tome to say more but. Those looks.

Brrr.

And then Tome lifted her eyes from her plate for the first time in a while and noticed that Mob was missing.

“Where’d Mob go?” She asked Reigen.

“Hm? Oh.” Reigen swallowed his mouthful and nodded to the doors. “He was feeling a bit overstimulated so him, Saiki, and Serizawa went out to get some fresh air.”

Really?

She hadn’t even noticed him leaving.

Uhg. Typical boy. He would leave her in her time of need. All the more irritated, Tome stood from the table.

“Right. I’ll. Uh. Be right back too.” She said, then squeezed through the press of bodies for the doors.

The moment she got into the fresh open air and took a deep breath was the moment Tome felt something in her unravel. As the breeze toyed with her hair she closed her eyes.

Maybe Mob had the right idea, a tiny part of her said, because this felt much better.

But that just reminded her that Mob had left her, so with renewed irritation she looked around and went off to find him.

It didn’t take long. One dip through a short alley toward the ocean was all she needed to find three backs leaning against a railing to stare out into the water.

None of the three were talking to each other. They barely even looked together, Serizawa a few feet away. Somehow, though, something about the sight struck her as. Almost companionable.

Tome looked at her feet.

She was no stranger to feeling out of place but.

She turned on her heel and went back to the hotel.

It might have been her imagination but she almost thought she felt something stay with her. Whatever it was, silly as it may seem, Tome was grateful to it because it helped her feel less alone.

“We should be going ghost hunting anyway,” Tome grumbled, then perked up when she remembered she’d brought her ghost hunting equipment. This was the perfect opportunity to break it out!

[nickgerlich]

Seeing Rainbows

It is rare when music can withstand the passage of time, sounding just as good today as when it was released decades prior. Pretty much everything by the Beatles comes to mind, as does Hotel California by the Eagles, and the rock opera Tommy by The Who.

But let’s not forget Dark Side Of The Moon, by the British prog-rock band Pink Floyd. Songs from that album are in steady rotation on SXM Channel 26, my favorite station. So popular was this album that it remained on Billboard’s Top 200 for 724 consecutive weeks, from 1973 to 1988. That was back when people bought their music, and artists could make a tidy living from the proceeds.

Skip forward to this week, when Pink Floyd updated its profile pic on its Facebook page, and suddenly heads started exploding with dark forebodings. With the 50th anniversary of the album’s release rapidly approaching—1st March—the band opted for a stylized “50” that included the same prismatic imagery of the original album.

It’s just that some people thought the band had gone “woke” and was making a statement of support for the LGBTQ community. Rainbows, anyone? Tell me you’re not a Pink Floyd fan without telling me you’re not a Pink Floyd fan.

As of this morning, there were 17,000 comments on that image alone. Who would have thought that something so simple as this would cause so many peoples’ undies to get in a bunch? And over a non-event in the first place? Sheesh.

Now please allow me to digress a bit. The word “woke” is perhaps to most over-used and misunderstood word being used these days. I bet that most of the people using it do not know its etymology, nor history of usage. Worse yet, it is used as a baseball bat against anyone with whom they disagree, and, typically, from Right to Left. All this in the last two years.

For the record, the first political usage of the word dates to 1962, and was used by African-Americans. Technically, it meant “alert to racial or social discrimination and injustice.” It was used sparingly from the 1940s forward, though, and only hit the zeitgeist by virtue of a New York Times article. More recently, it was used by BLM activists starting around 2016, but by 2021 had been co-opted by non-blacks as a derisive slur.

In other words, it never had anything to do with gay rights, veganism, women’s rights, or whatever seemingly deplorable cause du jour. But hey, “Go woke, go broke” became the rallying cry of the Alt-Right against any company or individual who dared go against their grain.

I do not allow politically motivated speech in my classes. It’s perfectly OK to disagree among us, even with me, about anything, but we must do so in a respectful manner. Don’t use the word “woke” unless you are trying to tell me you “woke up late and missed a deadline” or something like that.

But back to the music. Dark Side Of The Moon is arguably one of the best albums ever released. It has stayed relevant and current by virtue of being that good, but has also benefited from a little myth and lore too. It was in the mid-1990s that a newspaper columnist suggested pairing the album with the classic 1939 film, The Wizard Of Oz. Supposedly the music and lyrics matched the film’s actions minute for minute, as if it were a masterfully created soundtrack 34 years after the fact.

While the band has vehemently denied such intent, they have not argued with the free publicity. If it gets people playing your old album again, then have at it. Which brings me to my final point. In spite of the negativity and willfully exposed ignorance of many commenters, there might just be a silver lining on the dark cloud of social media.

You see, Pink Floyd is now getting tons of unpaid publicity about the anniversary, which necessarily includes a remastered release of the album on vinyl and CD, and even a planetarium tour pairing the music to a star show. While it is regrettable that so many people failed to see the intent of the new logo, and were quick to make accusations, it is also admirable of Pink Floyd to kind of just let it all happen. The PR machine can take on a life of its own.

And Money is more than just a song on that album. It’s what these guys are going to continue making. Got to keep the loonies on the path.

Dr “Everything Under The Sun Is In Tune“ Gerlich

Audio Blog

[piscesgirl87]

do you think kim is selfish and abusive? your friends gina and bryna said before shes selfish and abusive to adam. do you agree or disagree?

No I don’t

I disagree with them

But newsflash…..it’s perfectly ok to disagree with/have different opinions from your friends

That’s how they felt in the moment

I’m sure looking back they’d change their minds

[blitheringmcgonagall]

@jilyawards thanks so much for all your hard work which you do FOR FREE to celebrate our love of Jily.

For some godforsaken reason, every year these have been run - going back to when @petalsthefish (at her own detriment as she didn’t allow herself to win because she was running it, despite her fics being so popular st that time etc) and Eva and others took over - some eejits have thought it ok to be small minded and mean to the person(s) running it.

As a fandom elder (I’ve been here too long and give precisely zero fucks what anyone thinks 😬🤣), and in the spirit of my username and iconic character can I just say -

*meant to be heard in Maggie Smith’s voice*

Minerva McGonagall: HOW UNBECOMING THIS IS KIND OF BEHAVIOUR IS, AND HOW APPALLED LILY AND JAMES WOULD BE - ARE - WITH IT!

Lily: 100% Minnie, couldn’t agree more - by all means don’t participate if you don’t like the format, or the fact that there are winners (you knew this though, it’s literally what this is, every year?!). But don’t go all passive aggressive anon-ing the people running these awards! That’s embarrassing and bullying behaviour and you do know I hate bullies, right? What age are you? Twelve?

James: Yeah, no, she’s not joking - she really does hate bullies. And this isn’t the sort of thing that Lily or Sirius and I would do. If we were unhappy with something we would either tell the people running it straight up, no bullshit, no hiding behind anon, or - much more likely - set up our own awards, run them exactly as we want to, and let the others run theirs in peace!

Sirius: But we do know someone who would go all snooty and passive aggressive, don’t we?

Minerva McGonagall: Mr Black, please do not finish-

Sirius: The guy who- oh. We were just talking about you, Snape

Snape:

Minerva McGonagall: I do in fact, in this particular case, agree with you, Mr Black

Sirius: *smirks* I know, I’m always right, Minnie. You know, maybe these people are in the wrong fandom? They could waltz into the appropriate fandom by just removing the J and swapping in two letters, an S and a P, specifically, and Bob’s your uncle?

Peter: Godric’s Gonads! *stares at camera with anxious eyes*

Minerva McGonagall: THAT IS QUITE ENOUGH, SIRIUS BLACK! NOT ANOTHER WORD, OR I SHALL BE FORCED TO TURN YOU INTO A -

Sirius: I’m being perfectly Sirius, Minnie, I-

SWOOSH!

James: Padfoot, I don’t disagree with you. But I think you need to, er, apologise to Minnie if you want to be back to yourself by dinner time?

Sirius:

Since one of the admins is going on a hiatus are the awards officially called of?

No, the awards are not called off and will not be called off no matter how much abuse anyone tries to pile on us as a team or on Ray in particular.

[winchesterandpie]

QuickCare and Confessions

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x reader

Word Count: 1366

Warnings: sooo self indulgent, for which I will not apologize. Other than that, I can't think of anything

Requested by @katiemcrae

A/N: Enjoy some best friends to lovers! I had a ton of fun writing this. Let's just say, I absolutely love this man! Writing this also helped take my mind off of everything I should have been doing, so I hope you enjoy the fruits of my procrastination lol.

You felt absolutely relieved when Bradley walked into the QuickCare. You hadn’t gotten there long before him, so you were just anxiously filling out the forms they needed in order to see you.

“Hey, thanks for coming,” you said, offering a half grin to your best friend.

“I was worried something happened.” He definitely looked worried. “You texted me that you were at urgent care, I just needed to make sure you were okay.”

Your grin softened into something more intimate. It was moments like these where you realized over and over again that you were in love with Bradley Bradshaw. He didn’t know that, of course, and you weren’t about to tell him. If you only ever had him as a friend, you would take that and be grateful.

“What happened?”

“Well… I may have tripped on the stairs.” You bit the inside of your cheek and looked away, a little embarrassed.

“So… why did you need QuickCare?” he asked, the words drawn out in his confusion.

“Because my ankle kinda went sideways when I fell and now it really hurts.”

There was new concern in his voice, “How the hell did you get here then?”

“It’s just my left ankle. I drive with my right foot, so it’s fine.”

He said your name in pure disbelief. You shrugged, so he said your name again. “You could’ve called me--I’d have driven you here!”

“But you were on base. I figured there was a good chance you were in the air.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” he said after a long moment, shaking his head.

They called your name then, and Bradley stepped to your injured side without you needing to ask. His arm around your waist supported most of your weight as you made your way to the examination room. He didn’t let go of your hand while they poked, prodded, and turned your ankle.

As you suspected, they diagnosed you with a sprained ankle. Once it was tightly wrapped up, you were given instructions to rest, ice your ankle, and keep it elevated.

Bradley took you home, and you could feel him looking over at you every once in a while during the drive. It wasn’t like you weren’t looking at him. Tonight had you wishing you could reach between the seats and take his hand. You could probably get away with it--he might just ascribe it to the tough afternoon you had. But you couldn’t bring yourself to risk him discovering your feelings, which could in turn jeopardize your friendship.

“Here we are, home sweet home,” he said as he pulled into your driveway. You had only just started to move when he spoke again. “No, you stay put! I’ll be right there.”

“I was just unbuckling the seatbelt,” you argued. You still unbuckled, but you didn’t move to get out while he hopped out and came to your side of the Bronco.

“Alright, come here,” he said as he picked you up, sliding one arm under your knees.

“Hey, I’m perfectly capable of walking,” you protested halfheartedly. It was difficult to be anything less than content in his strong arms.

He laughed, the sound rumbling through you. “I’ve got a doctor who disagrees with you on that one.”

You turned your face into his shoulder as heat crept across your cheeks. “Ok, ok, I’ll give you that one.”

“I thought you would.” He paused at the door while you fumbled for your keys. “I’ll get your car tomorrow, okay?”

“That’s way out of your way!”

“I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure? You’ve already done so much for me.” 

Bradley held you so you could unlock the door, then nudged it closed behind the two of you. “I promise I don’t mind.”

You acquiesced with a quiet hum as he set you down on the couch. “I really appreciate you.” That was close enough to telling him you loved him without ruining your friendship, right? “Thank you for being here with me.”

“Nowhere I’d rather be,” he said, too softly. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No, I…” you stopped to chuckle at yourself with just a hint of embarrassment, “I was coming down the stairs to get dinner. The whole ankle thing kinda got in the way.”

“Fair enough. Pizza sound good?” He was already pulling out his phone to place an order, but you nodded nonetheless, smiling to yourself. “You’ve got an ice pack, right?”

“Yeah, they should be in the door of the freezer.” You started to offer to get it yourself, but he disappeared into the kitchen before you could blink. It sounded so strange and yet so… normal to hear him moving around in your space. Something about it just felt so comforting.

When Bradley returned, he set the ice pack and the dish towel on the coffee table. He lifted your legs up onto the opposite couch arm and held the ice pack to your ankle. His fingers brushed the skin of your leg just above the wrap, trailing fire with his touch.

“Think that’ll stay put?” he asked, somewhat rhetorically. It had frozen in a shape that made it pretty stable sitting against your ankle. 

Confident in that, he came over to the cushion that was now behind you and sat down. To have your ankle up on the other arm of the couch, you had to sit just far enough from the nearer one that your muscles had to work to keep you sitting up, but there was enough space for him to sit.

“C’mon, lean back for me, sweetheart,” Bradley encouraged. The nickname made you melt easily back into him. You wished he would mean it romantically. 

You shifted a little, finding a comfortable position. His arm went around you when you settled. It would have made alarm bells go off in your head except that you were just so warm leaning into him. He felt like home.

“Say that again?” he asked, and you realized you had voiced that last thought out loud. You tilted your head back to meet his gaze, a little terrified of what you would find there. Instead of anything scary, you found something akin to hope and that gave you enough courage to speak.

“You feel like home to me,” you said, more certain this time.

Bradley’s lips pulled into a smile and you wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like to kiss him. “You’re home to me too.” When his hand lifted to trace down the side of your face, you finally started to think that maybe he felt the same. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“Why didn’t you?” you asked, turning it around on him, though internally you were downright giddy.

“I suppose we both could have spoken up.”

“I was scared I’d mess us up,” you confessed, though it felt a little silly now.

He confided his own secret, “Me too.” You felt his smile as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m really glad you came.”

“I’ll always come when you need me.”

You turned your head still closer. “What if I just want you here? Instead of needing, I mean.”

“Even better,” he said, and you knew he meant it. “If this weren’t the most incredibly awkward angle, I would kiss you right now.” 

You could have sworn he was glowing brighter than the sun when you laughed. He laughed too, dropping his hand from your face in favor of wrapping his arm around you. You’d never thought you would be grateful for a sprained ankle, but here you were. When you told him as much through gasps of giggles, he just laughed harder.

“Next time you want me to know something like that, you could try just, y’know, telling me?” Bradley’s arm squeezed around you affectionately. “No need for you to get injured, sweetheart.”

“Drat, there go my plans,” you groaned in mock annoyance.

“I promise I’ll make it worth your while,” he offered playfully.

You pretended to think about it. “I suppose I can agree to that.”

Falling in love with your best friend was the best thing you’d ever done, second only to spraining your ankle.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

ok, so we have paranoid bella and all other incarnations, but what about Bella who is just a complete sociopath. She completely understands what a vampire is and what she's getting into by wanting to be one. Bella just wants to be immoral and powerful regardless of the consequences. Edward can't read her mind and I imagine Bella has learned social cues and hiding evidence enough to be about at an equal level social standings wise with already weird book Bella. How does the twilight series go?

Anon is referring to Paranoid Bella.

And oh boy, alright, let's do this I suppose.

On Why Bella Doesn't Have to Be the World's Greatest Actress

Of a note, I don't think Edward would even notice that Bella's... odd. Even if she were a fantastic actress (Bella is notably in canon a very poor liar and very easy to read).

This is because he doesn't actually care what Bella is like, he projects onto her, and she smells phenomenal. In other words, he'll still tell himself Bella's a feminine Carlisle Cullen knock off even if she's drowning puppies in a well.

So Bella doesn't need those social cues, Edward genuinely will not notice, and he will not care.

Regardless, you've set the stage with a completely different character and I guess we're going with that.

The Tale of Sociopath Bella

As in canon, Bella immediately notes something is off about the Cullens. Then Edward tries to eat her in Biology. In canon, Bella was terrified in this moment and genuinely thought this boy might kill her. She later tells herself this was irrational and tries to shrug it off, but none the less, she was terrified.

You don't give me too much to go off of with Sociopath Bella in terms of personality traits, but I imagine she still fears for her life in this moment.

I imagine what she does is, after collecting herself, try to get Edward Cullen thrown out of school. Bella is now a sociopath with no empathy towards others, Edward Cullen makes her uncomfortable and appears to actively wish her harm, she's going to do something about this.

I imagine, rather like Amy Dunne from "Gone Girl", she accuses him of sexual assault and goes about fabricating evidence, including harming herself. When asked, others agree that Edward was acting very strange in Biology towards Bella Swan and is generally kind of creepy. Even the administration agrees that something odd appeared to happen, as Edward tried to switch out of his Biology class immediately and then he disappeared without warning for a week after having appeared perfectly healthy the day before.

Something happened in that class, or after it, and that something seems to revolve around Bella Swan.

There's no real evidence, but there's enough suspicion that Edward is granted his wish when he returns: he gets moved into Physics. Edward, of course, is appalled. That girl not only humiliated him and ruined his life by merely existing and smelling delicious, but now she's spreading slanderous lies about him. His family, of course, knows the truth and tries to comfort him (it doesn't really matter, there's no evidence and they'll be gone in a few years anyway, as it is they can leave early if they have to and no harm done) but Edward seethes.

He makes a point of confronting Bella, both to notice if she noticed anything odd (as in canon), and to get revenge for her slander. Unfortunately for Edward, again, there's a little too many witnesses, and Edward looks... unfriendly. Bella files for a restraining order through her father, it's approved in record time.

Edward is now livid.

This woman is the devil.

Well, that there seals Bella's fate. She is a great evil upon this earth, the worst kind of woman, and in a way just as monstrous as the rapist pigs he used to eat. She's destroying his family's reputation in this town, destroying his school life, and he won't stand for it. Carlisle wouldn't approve, but at some point, the demon wins.

Edward gleefully eats Bella in her bedroom. The crime scene is as grotesque and bloody as you can imagine.

Which, of course, also makes him the primary murder suspect (correct in this case, well done Charlie). With the advent of the internet, with cable television, and with Edward now having to disappear before they start trying to get DNA, the Cullens have to go off the grid and exit society.

They now live in a cave, thanks to Edward and Bella.

But That Wasn't What I Wanted!

I get the feeling you wanted to get a little further into canon than that. So, for once, I'll oblige.

Sociopath Bella, for whatever reason, holds her tongue and takes no action when Edward is terrifying as fuck in Biology. He disappears for a week, she finds this very strange, then he returns, clearly interested in her, which is also very strange.

Bella continues to have no sense of self-preservation (for some reason) and still does not take action against Edward. Even when he confesses to wanting to eat her on numerous occasions.

By the time Bella figures out Edward's a vampire, she wants to be one, desperately. Edward doesn't seem... amenable.

But unlike Canon Bella, Sociopath Bella isn't here to please Edward. After the James incident, and she's met the family, I imagine she takes stock of her options and tries to see who is her best mark.

I imagine Bella lands on either Carlisle or Jasper. Carlisle, because he has the best control and has clearly turned several already, and Jasper because he has shown no hesitation on doing what he believes needs to be done regardless of the family.

If she approaches Carlisle, I imagine she points out the peril her life is in. Edward could crush her at any moment, she nearly died thanks to James, her very existence puts his coven in peril and Edward does not seem inclined to let her go either. This is untenable. (I imagine Bella also learns during the course of this conversation about the Volturi Law, as Carlisle undoubtedly explains it in clearer terms than Edward initially did). Edward has condemned her to death, they both know it, and it's best Carlisle turn her sooner rather than later.

Carlisle is deeply uncomfortable with this but doesn't disagree. I imagine he tries to argue for after Bella's graduation, when she can more easily disappear. I imagine she pushes for that summer, plans a hiking accident and forces his hand with "sooner is better than later".

If she goes to Jasper, Bella points out the same thing. This is untenable, she's breaking the law by existing, she must be turned. Jasper fully agrees (and would like not to eat her) but he doesn't have the control to turn her. He would in turn go to Carlisle (leading to the above scenario).

Now, through Alice's visions, Edward would likely find out about all of this and throw the greatest fit the world has ever seen. He rages at Bella, then himself when he realizes she has a bit of a point and he's condemned her to be a vampire, then rages at her again because the Volturi need not ever know and EDWARD WILL LEAVE HER DAMN YOU!

I imagine Bella keeps pushing, which may get her mercy killed by Edward.

In the event that his guilt is all-consuming and he can't even grant her mercy for he is such a wretched beast, Bella turns, and...

I imagine she's a perfect Cullen.

Bella has superb control, to the point of ridiculousness, more the Cullen lifestyle appeals to her beyond just immortality. They have stability, material wealth, and while Bella doesn't care about the familial connection she won't say no to it either.

Being a man eating nomad has no appeal to this Bella.

She'll follow the diet meticulously to a t, do the high school routine perfectly, and ignore Edward's spiral into depression and despair now that he's ruined Bella Swan's life.

[airi-p4]

From above the stars - Chapter 11

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | ……

_____________________________

I was supposed to update this a while ago but I forgot ^^;

Chapter summary:

The date - part 2

Check the tags on AO3 for the whole fic’s tw!!

AO3

_____________________________________________________

CHAPTER 11 - Date 2 / scars

Marinette walked beside Luka. They had just bought all the tools they needed to cut and dye Luka's hair: a pair of scissors, the dye, shampoo, a comb, a towel... Marinette had insisted on paying, but Luka had successfully distracted her and managed to pay instead. The lady had pouted, but he excused himself saying it would be unfair when she was already offering to be his hairdresser for free, and she couldn't disagree, so she had no choice but to accept.

Trocadero was just at the other side of the street they were walking on, some meters away. She knew Master Fu had a warehouse with tap water he could lend them for having Luka's hair cut and dyed. The lights at the crossroads had just turned green for pedestrians when they arrived at the intersection.

Marinette took one step forward to cross the street, but Luka quickly held her wrist tightly before she crossed the road. Confused, she looked up at him and there was horror in his face.

"Luka? What's wrong, are you ok?"

Luka pulled Marinette closer. "Don't cross," he warned. "It's dangerous. Don't cross, please-"

Marinette was now very worried about him. His stare was focused on the white parallel lines painted on the floor, and his pale face made it seem like he had seen a ghost.

"Luka, Trocadero is just at the other side and the traffic lights are green for us, it's safe" she tried to comfort him approaching with a soft voice, but he pulled her tight into an embrace. His trembling didn't stop and Marinette panicked. "Luka? You're worrying me"

He didn't answer. He was sweating and trembling, and his stare still fixed at the white lines on the pavement road. He only let her go to cover his ears at the sounds of honking impatient cars. The lights were red for them now, but neither of them cared.

"We can't cross the street. We have to- the metro, yes. Let's go to the underground!" he turned away and nervously grabbed Marinette's wrist strongly, pulling her a little harshly.

"Luka! What's wrong with you? You're hurting me!" She pulled back, trying to release his grip and Luka snapped out at her cry.

"Marinette? Oh no, I'm so sorry! I didn't want to- I'm so sorry" he lamented, a little tormented.

"Luka, it's fine, it's nothing serious, see?" She showed how she could twist her wrist perfectly. "But I'm seriously worried about you. What's going on? Are you okay? Let me help you" she surrounded his arm with her hands. "Please…?"

Luka kept trembling and her mouth fell slightly open. "I- I'm scared of crossroads and cars..." he finally confessed. "My father- and my sisters… I can't cross streets without panicking… It had gotten better with time… but when I saw you willing to cross I- I thought- I couldn't- I had to- I'm sorry. I'm so sorry" his voice broke and Marinette's heart ached for him.

"Oh no, Luka… I'm so sorry…I didn't think- Let's go by metro, ok?"

"You're ok with it…? With me being-" a hiccup interrupted him. "It will take us longer and- money and- inconveniences..."

"Luka. It's fine. I don't mind at all. As long as you feel comfortable, that's all it matters to me. It's logical you would be afraid of cars after everything…" She was just assuming, but it was obvious he had some sort of a trauma. She could understand his sisters' part, at least... She wasn't fond or much ready of riding cars either, so she could relate. "I'm surprised you even have a driving license, to be honest…" he looked at her astonished from under his lashes and she noticed her mistake. "Ah-! Sorry, I saw it when you opened your wallet to pay at the supermarket! You looked very handsome in the photo… I thought it was a little unfair when everyone else tends to look bad and-" she flustered when she realized her compliment. "A- Anyway- let's get that one stop at the metro!" She awkwardly laughed and pulled his arm to resume walking towards the nearest metro stop.

"Thank you, Marinette" he finally relaxed, and she linked her hands with his, in support, until they reached their destination in absolute silence.

__________________

It was a quiet day at Trocadero. Candy, André and Master Fu seemed very bored, and Mr. Banana was not even there. The sun that shone bright that morning was now partially covered by darker clouds, and the wind didn't make it especially appealing for getting out.

"Master!" Marinette called and the old man smiled at her.

"Oh, Marinette! Nice to see you. How are you doing today?" Master greeted with his usual kindness.

"I'm good! I'm here with Luka today" she pointed and the old man's eyes opened in surprise. Luka shrugged apologetically, and Master opened his eyes even more. Marinette noticed the strange exchange between them and couldn't stop from asking. "Do you already know each other…?"

Fu looked back and forth at Luka and Marinette, but before he could answer, Luka did instead. "Master Fu has been helping me a lot, and he just hired me for some night part-time job as a musician. I'm very grateful to him" Master nodded.

"Oh! So you're Master Fu's employee? I had no idea! You never explained to me what you did…" she awkwardly laughed.

"You're right. I guess it never came up" he shrugged apologetically at Marinette. "I play the guitar at a bar Master owns. I'm pleased with the job and very grateful for this opportunity" he bowed his head to his boss.

"The pleasure is mine, Luka. You're a great performer and a kind person. And a very diligent worker, too" he bowed back.

Marinette smiled tenderly at the exchange. She was happy that two of the people she liked the most were already friendly with each other. She ran away to call Candy and André so she could introduce Luka to them. Meanwhile Master Fu and Luka remained alone for a moment.

"Are you sure about this…? What if-" Fu started, but Luka cut him short.

"Yes, I know…" Luka stared at Marinette approaching with her friends in the distance. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience, Master"

"That's never a problem, Luka… I'm just worried about you… both of you"

"I'm fine," he whispered. "I'll be fine. Eventually..."

Marinette took care of the introductions, between André and Candy and Luka. They were all awkward at first but soon they all laughed together. Master mentioned he gave Mr Banana a free day and offered the keys of a garage he owned to Marinette and Luka for their hair cut after she had asked for permission.

The garage was used to keep maintenance, equipment, and André's and Candy's stalls during nighttime. It also had an improvised bed and a little bathroom. And even a small kitchen! It was a little claustrophobic, but still a liveable place. Marinette had a devilish smile when she saw Mr Banana costume hanging next to the door and had the urge to try it on, but Luka made her dismiss the idea because it would be a pity if she hid her pretty face. Marinette was KOed twice: first for his compliment, and second, a while later, at his long soaked hair dripping water. Marinette felt her temperature rise and had to drink water to recover her voice.

"Sit down" she ordered, and he obeyed, covering him with an old blanket. "How should I cut it?"

"You almost sound like a professional" Luka chuckled and Marinette giggled with him. "I'll leave it to you" he said, and Marinette pouted.

"That's the most conflicting answer you could give me… What about the haircut from your driver's license? It looks so good! Short, but not too short, long bangs…" Luka agreed to go with it and handed her his license. "Ok! Here we go!'

She was very nervous the first lock of hair she cut, but soon she was entertained. Wouldn't it be nice if it could become a tradition? She thought.

'Focus Marinette! You need to do it well first!'

Her hand moved to tug his loosened bangs in place, so she could cut them shorter. A distinctive mark on his forehead didn’t pass unnoticed to her.  

"What's this? A scar?" She moved closer to examine it, just at the corner where his hair started. His body stiffened. "What happened?"

In truth, he didn't want to answer, but he’d rather have this conversation than the one he kept avoiding since after lunch.

"A dog attacked me when I was a kid…" he answered.

In response, she opened her eyes in surprise and kept examining the past injury. "Does it hurt?"

"No, it doesn't. It's part of the past now"

"Are you- Do you still like dogs after this?" Her thumb softly brushed over his mark for a moment and it was deeper than she expected.

He pressed his lips together thinking for an answer. "Little dogs are cute, I guess. But I'm terrified of aggressive big ones, like the on that attacked me"

"I see… Me too, actually-" his eyebrows frowned. "When I was a child, I was attacked by one big dog, but papa saved me before it could harm me"

"Really…?" He replied, a little sad.

"I can't remember much, because I had my eyes closed, but that's what my parents told me… It was scary… I've been afraid of big dogs ever since…" she shrugged.

"Traumatic events would be better forgotten, wouldn't they…?" He sympathized.

"Maybe you're right…" She lowered her gaze and moved her hand to her neck. "Scars are a reminder of our pasts… and that's sometimes a curse. My neck scar will always remind me of Adrien and your sisters, too. Even if I try to hide it under my scarf, past mistakes will always chase me…” she forced her tears from falling. “I’m very sorry… because of me, your sisters..."

"It wasn't your fault, Marinette… you know that..." he sounded melancholic at the mention of his sisters.

She hummed lightly, keeping her disagreement from him. She resumed her work as her scissors took some of his bangs’ hair.

Thinking back, it was obvious he wouldn't kiss her. Did she really expect Luka to freely love her after what she did to her sisters? Understanding dawned, and she resigned herself to being the best friend to Luka that she could be. Besides, Luka's wellness came first, she reminded herself. She cut his bangs, a little distracted.

“Ah-”

Too short.  

_______________________________

When Marinette finished, the result wasn't exactly as she expected, but Candy came to check on them and gave him some final touches, including the fix of her slip of a hand. Who would have thought Candy was a certified hairdresser? Sadly, she had to go back to the stall, but promised to come back later.

After sweeping the floor, Marinette focused on reading the dye instructions while Luka answered a phone call.

"Everything ok?" Marinette asked when Luka returned.

"Yes. It seems my mother had caused some fuss... They gave some sedatives and she's sleeping now" he sighed and Marinette felt sad for him.

"It must be so tough…" she involuntarily said out loud. "Ah- sorry! It's partly my fault and- I shouldn't- say… these things…"

"Again: it wasn't your fault, Marinette. It was an accident. Stop blaming yourself, please'' he assured once again with a sigh. “But yes, it is tough. Because it doesn't feel like she's my mother anymore. She's changed so much… Even worse than when my father passed away… and the worst part is she refuses to accept reality and to get some help, even from me…"

Marinette didn't know what to say. He seemed so lonely… How was he even enduring all that? If it was her in his same situation…

He sighed again, this time with a weak smile. "Let's get done with the dye, shall we? There is not much time left before it gets dark"

"What-!? When? Time goes too fast! Let's do this!" She hurried to put the gloves on and Luka relaxed at her hands touching his hair.

_______________

To her surprise, Marinette finished earlier than expected and, in the time they had to wait for the dye to set, Marinette laid down on the worn-out bed of the garage. She fell asleep at the sounds of Luka's guitar while she recapitulated all that happened during that day: Sneaking out and lying to her mother, the beautiful park, the enjoyable sounds of Luka's guitar, the picnic and the ‘flirting’, her constantly racing heart, his touch, the new knowledge about his fears (to cars, roads and big dogs) and his feelings (towards his mother and his sisters), his work and meeting with Master Fu, the promise to spend her (and his sisters') birthdays together, the haircut and dye… and their ‘almost kiss’.

That's how it should be called, isn't it?

Was their pain ever going to fade away someday like the blueness of Luka's hair? Could happiness ever find its way for them?

"Oh, Marinette, Marinette. Do you really think you can ever be happy? Poor innocent creature… It's about time for misfortune to remind you of your place… You are not allowed to be happy. EVER" an evil laugh echoed in her head.

Marinette woke up covered in cold sweat.

A nightmare? Whose voice was that? It sounded familiar, yet she couldn’t place it.

"Are you ok, Marinette!?" Luka asked in worry, next to her. "You seemed like you were having a nightmare."

"Yes…" she gulped. "It was only a nightmare"

Right?

...

[rubistella]

Important Disclaimer:

Just a friendly reminder that mun ≠ muse. The way I write Astarion doesn’t reflect my personal beliefs or values. Astarion can be cruel, manipulative, toxic, or downright awful, with just enough humanity to keep people around. His trauma and the slow process of overcoming it don’t necessarily make him a better person.

If you see Astarion differently, I respect that. Personally, I’m not on board with the constant romanticization of trauma you see in media and literature, or the idea that surviving and overcoming your past automatically makes you a better person. Sometimes it does, but let’s be honest, it’s not always the case. This isn’t a dig at anyone else’s opinions, so let’s keep things mature.

And finally, it’s perfectly fine to enjoy different portrayals of the same character, no matter how different they may be. After all, roleplay is meant to be fun!

Thanks for reading. Here's your biscuit 🍪🥛

General

If you're part of the 'I can fix him' squad, that's totally fine. I respect it, but I respectfully disagree. Astarion is not a good person (ref.), and I’m not about to water him down just because he occasionally shows a vulnerable side or a sliver of honesty. (Read: He’s a bit of a gremlin and sometimes needs to be metaphorically leashed.)

Astarion can be influenced by those around him, for better or worse, but that doesn’t change his core. So please, don’t expect a sudden personality transplant. However, if it is natural for your character to expect as much, that's perfectly fine IC.

While Astarion is biased toward those he holds dear (see friended/romanced), he’s also a first-class enabler of others' worst instincts and might very well be the naughty little devil whispering in your muse’s ear, regardless of their moral compass. (Again, he’s a naughty pale elf, mate. I don’t know what to tell you.)

Astarion is highly manipulative and plays dirty. He’ll often tug at the heartstrings, even if it means showing a more vulnerable side or digging up trauma, to get what he wants. (And if he does reveal this side to your character, regardless of his motives, it suggests he ‘trusts’ them... at least enough to make use of that trust.)

Just because he’s a morally questionable individual doesn’t mean he’s above doing a good deed now and then. But don’t get it twisted; he’s not doing it out of the goodness of his heart. He’s quite selfish after all. If friended/romanced, he’ll also display care for those he’s close to, in his own peculiar way.

Astarion is a crook and a liar, even to those he cares about. He won’t always speak his mind and might agree to things he doesn’t want, only to regret it later and blame others for 'talking him into it'. There will be instances he’s genuinely a victim, but other times, not so much.

Astarion has his own personal agenda and tends to follow through with it regardless of what someone else may think, sometimes going so far as to not tell people what he's up to, or straight up lying if he finds it convenient.

[more: tba]

Friended / Romanced

(Friended/Romanced) While Astarion remains largely indifferent to those he doesn’t know (unless their suffering becomes a nuisance to his own agenda), he does possess a certain fondness for those he holds dear. Thus, what might amuse him when it befalls others is far less entertaining when it affects his beloved. (ref timestamp 1:06~)

(Friended/Romanced) Should your character be close to Astarion and possess a more virtuous nature, he might discreetly carry out some of his more dubious plans behind their back, if only to avoid a confrontation or a reprimand. Of course, the possibility of your character discovering his actions and confronting him remains an open prospect for exploration.

(Romanced) Astarion is fiercely protective of those he cherishes and won’t hesitate to speak up if he feels they are being wronged by anyone other than himself, of course.

(Romanced) Astarion is pansexual and, in my portrayal, he tends to lean towards a dominant role, though with a certain flexibility about it.

(Romanced) His stance on polyamory will entirely depend on who they’re dealing with, though he’s not likely to be the one to propose it. That said, "unlikely" doesn’t mean "impossible."

Past & Life

Astarion stands as the sole "survivor" of the Ancunin family, a tragic title bestowed upon him after a brutal massacre. While the Gur were indeed the instigators of said attack, whispers abound that others, nursing their own vendettas against the Ancunin lineage, seized the opportunity to join the slaughter. The mastermind behind it all? None other than Cazador, who saw the elimination of the Ancunins as a strategic boon, both politically and personally. His twisted fascination with Astarion played no small part; starving the young elf of his family was merely the first step in grooming him to become part of Cazador's twisted new "family."

Before his transformation, Astarion made a calculated attempt to seduce Cazador, fully aware of his status as a vampire lord and driven by his own obsessive desire for immortality. His efforts brought him closer to Cazador, hoping to be granted the dark gift. However, Astarion was woefully ignorant of the grim details that the path to becoming a vampire first winds through the harrowing existence of a vampire spawn. Cazador, ever the schemer, exploited Astarion’s naivety to further his own nefarious ends.

Astarion is Cazador's second ever spawn, but his oldest still-living one. The first spawn never made it.

Note: If you roleplay Cazador, you can disregard any HCs that do not mesh well with your own.

click here for other headcanons!

[more: tba]