#not hundreds of people shouting into a void

[captainshyguy]

this is gonna sound a little mean but idc, i have literally never been in a more self absorbed fandom than the m*rio fandom. im literally begging u people to learn how to have conversations that arent just talking incessantly about your own projects and thoughts. please for the love of god learn how to listen to the people ur supposed to be conversing with and actually acknowledge what theyre saying im gonna turn into the fucking joker

[xxscrabiesxx]

- I tried to group the music genres in a way that made sense stylistically, but I admit I'm not The Music Expert of All Time. Just choose which seems about right.

- I almost made options for just 90s/00s but then I realized those still fall under specific genres despite the time period. Again, just choose what fits best for you.

- Tag which song specifically, if you have one!

[cozwalt]

It’s funny how one day you’re 12 and throwing a hissy fit because you’re not better at something or as good as you want to be, and then one day you’re almost 20 and have a small fan base.

[mcmansionhell]

namesake mcmansion

Howdy folks! Today's McMansion is very special because a) we're returning to Maryland after a long time and b) because the street this McMansion is on is the same as my name. (It was not named after me.) Hence, it is my personal McMansion, which I guess is somewhat like when people used to by the name rights to stars even though it was pretty much a scam. (Shout out btw to my patron Andros who submitted this house to be roasted live on the McMansion Hell Patreon Livestream)

As far as namesake McMansions go, this one is pretty good in the sense that it is high up there on the ol' McMansion scale. Built in 2011, this psuedo-Georgian bad boy boasts 6 bedrooms and 9.5 baths, all totaling around 12,000 square feet. It'll run you 2.5 million which, safe to say, is exponentially larger than its namesake's net worth.

Now, 2011 was an anonymous year for home design, lingering in the dead period between the 2008 black hole and 2013 when the market started to actually, finally, steadily recover. As a result a lot of houses from this time basically look like 2000s McMansions but slightly less outrageous in order to quell recession-era shame.

I'm going to be so serious here and say that the crown molding in this room is a crime against architecture, a crime against what humankind is able to accomplish with mass produced millwork, and also a general affront to common sense. I hate it so much that the more I look at it the more angry I become and that's really not healthy for me so, moving on.

Actually, aside from the fake 2010s distressed polyester rug the rest of this room is literally, basically Windows 98 themed.

I feel like the era of massive, hefty sets of coordinated furniture are over. However, we're the one's actually missing out by not wanting this stuff because we will never see furniture made with real wood instead of various shades of MDF or particleboard ever again.

This is a top 10 on the scale of "least logical kitchen I've ever seen." It's as though the designers engineered this kitchen so that whoever's cooking has to take the most steps humanly possible.

Do you ever see a window configuration so obviously made up by window companies in the 1980s that you almost have to hand it to them? You're literally letting all that warmth from the fire just disappear. But whatever I guess it's fine since we basically just LARP fire now.

Feminism win because women's spaces are prioritized in a shared area or feminism loss because this is basically the bathroom vanity version of women be shopping? (It's the latter.)

I couldn't get to all of this house because there were literally over a hundred photos in the listing but there are so many spaces in here that are basically just half-empty voids, and if not that then actually, literally unfinished. It's giving recession. Anyway, now for the best part:

Not only is this the NBA Backrooms but it's also just a nonsensical basketball court. Tile floors? No lines? Just free balling in the void?

Oh, well I bet the rear exterior is totally normal.

Not to be all sincere about it but much like yours truly who has waited until the literal last second to post this McMansion, this house really is the epitome of hubris all around. Except the house's hubris is specific to this moment in time, a time when gas was like $2/gallon. It's climate hubris. It's a testimony to just how much energy the top 1% of income earners make compared to the rest of us. I have a single window unit. This house has four air conditioning condensers. That's before we get to the monoculture, pesticide-dependent lawn or the three car garage or the asphalt driveway or the roof that'll cost almost as much as the house to replace. We really did think it would all be endless. Oops.

If you like this post and want more like it, support McMansion Hell on Patreon for as little as $1/month for access to great bonus content including a discord server, extra posts, and livestreams.

Not into recurring payments? Try the tip jar! Student loans just started back up!

[covid-safer-hotties]

The US Government Is Shutting Down A Key Covid Website

Tomorrow the US government agency responsible for biomedical and public health research, The National Institutes of Health, will shut down its Covid-19 ‘special populations’ website.

This site hosts a huge amount of information about how to treat covid and long covid in the immunocompromised and in people with HIV, cancer and similar immune supressing conditions - so-called ‘special populations.’

The site is going totally offline.

It’s a shameful dereliction of duty by the NIH which, behind Harvard, is the second largest publisher of biomedical research papers in the world. Doctors and clinicians all over the world use the NIH site for advice and treatment ideas.

And it’s going offline during a massive summer surge of covid infections in the US, a surge that is now topping 1.3 million infections per day. (One of whom was Anthony Fauci, who was infected for the third time last week). A surge killing 750 people a week in the US. Many of whom will be precisely the type of people this website is intended to help clinicians treat.

It’s a scandal.

The message it sends to vulnerable people could hardly be clearer - when it comes to covid, there’s nothing else we can do for you. Sorry. That’s it. We’re done.

It’s so terrifying.

It also sends a terrible signal to the medical community about where we are with covid

and will be materially damaging in efforts to treat vulnerable people, both in the acute stage of the disease and those with long covid.

The move to shut the page down is premised on an entirely false assumption: that we already know everything we’ll ever know about how to manage covid so there’s no point keeping a live web resource because they’ll never be anything to update it with ever again.

This is simply not true. While we know a lot about treating covid four years in, we absolutely do not know everything, not by a long stretch. As evidenced by the hundreds still dying every week in summer 2024. And as for long covid, we know very little about how to treat it. For a start, there is no agreed treatment plan. Absolutely none. But apparently we also know so much about this disease we can start shutting down online resources dedicated to it.

Please imagine for a second if a Trump administration rather than a Biden-Harris administration was doing this.

There would be an outcry.

But this move has so far been greeted by media silence.

It is left to a few disability activists and the covid aware to shout into the social media void.

Not that this is a surprise. This is how it has been for the last two years at least, guided by the business as usual, vax-and-forget strategy. More people have died of covid under the Biden-Harris administration than died under Trump. Despite having vaccines since 2021. You’d never know it by mainstream media coverage.

Some people have written to the director of the NIH, Monica Bertagnolli, and asked them to keep the advice live and up-to-date. If you want to do this her email address is:

monica.bertagnolli@nih.gov

Long Covid Action has archived the site here

Maybe if enough people write to her and enough noise is made the decision will be reversed. Worth a try.

Overall it’s just another grim episode in the handling of the pandemic by the current US administration, an administration who, we should never forget, won power in large part due to the outrage at Trump’s handling of the first nine months of covid.

Solidarity to everyone still trying to protect themselves and their communities from covid against all the odds.

At least we can keep fighting for each other.

[autophage]

You were born 46 years ago, birthed from factories built by the smartest people in what they considered to be "the Free World". Your mission is to explore, to push forth into the void that surrounds the small fragile blue orb where you were created. Your other mission, perhaps, you are less proud of: to prove Capitalism stronger than Communism.

(You would have been happy to execute your sibling's mission: to bear the Golden Record, proof of human ingenuity, to announce to the universe that We Are Here, that humans exist and experience the world around them. But you are further from Earth. And you are a machine, so perhaps you have no pride of your own.)

For decades you have traversed space, more distant by far than any other thing produced by human hands.

You are nearly a half century old, and programmers on Earth still write code for you. They still send you updates. Back on Earth you would be considered obsolete, but out here, your age is part of what makes you so valuable: you have journeyed further. Updates reach you at the speed of light, and even at that speed they take twenty-two hours to reach you. And of course that time only increases as you continue. You were the first item born of human ingenuity to reach interstellar space.

In three hundred more years - according to current human calculations - you will reach the Oort Cloud.

Human hands made you. Human hands shaped you. You are a shout, a statement, a greeting. You are humanity's senses, further by far than any eye or ear. You are a projection of humanity against void, against history's dust, against vastness and distance and separation. You will continue to exist long after humanity's changes, whatever they may be. Perhaps they will remember you. You will always remember them.

[h0neyfreak]

helping “The Environment” as an individual is such a nebulous and ever changing concept and seems to be very much in the Discourse™️ at the moment so I just want to take a minute to shout into the void with some reminders I gave my enviro students when they got to the “oh dear god we’re all gonna die” phase of the class:

“Individual choices don’t matter” is like. true(?) for climate change (unless you’re a kardashian or CEO or something) but that just means you can’t reusable tote bag your way out of a private jet society. NOT that you can’t have any impact through community initiatives and activism. Advocate for municipal composting and public transit!! Get involved locally!!!!! Write weekly to your representatives! Do whatever you can to get unstuck and scrape together some modicum of hope.

Also on individual choices. There are some that “matter” but be very wary of outsized benefits promised for seemingly small choices (e.g. the straw debacle). An app is not the thing to save us from a hundred years of industry. Going out and collecting litter DOES have an impact even if that impact is just “this area of the world no longer has trash in it.” It’s not solving the issue of microplastics or whatever but it is helping local birds. And it’s helping YOU feel more connected to your local environment and getting you involved with the world and your community.

Finally, the best thing you can be is well informed, persistent, and kind. Be willing and able to help if you bump into someone who is open to the idea of not letting Shell and SHEIN pour toxic sludge directly into every river. It’s more people than you think. But most people only know how to buy things that are “better.” (Electric cars, reusable bags, expensive neutral clothing made of flax). They want to do SOMETHING but we’re all just kind of vibrating balls of anxiety all the time. Know what sort of things are going on around you and invite them! My go to’s are composting initiatives, textile recycling programs, and pollinator friendly/grass free gardens.

Again, it would be great if we were all willing to drag the Shell and Nestle CEOs out to account for their crimes but being paralyzed by fear is not gonna help. Neither is another ethical clothing brand selling $400 linen underwear (probably). I’ve found time and time again that people who have any amount of tangible connection to the world outside have a much more visceral reaction to billionaire super yachts than defeatist suburbanites who drive EVs and have a kitchen full of dubious organic snacks.

[slytherinshua]

☾　REBORN, UNDEAD　( 성한빈 )

genre angst , fluff , vampire au , undead au , former vampire!hanbin x former vampire!fem!reader   cw blood and battle mentions (from the past in pt 2) , crying   wc 1363   request no   note for @nonononranghaee from the moot fic form (although ik you just went on hiatus but it's okay read whenever ur back !!) also please please read part 1 and part 2 of this fic series before reading part 3 because this will not make sense without reading part 2 esp!!! there will probably be a part 4 to this as well and we'll see after that. thank you so much for all the love on this series so far as well <3   net @kstrucknet @chrimatanet

“Stop worrying about me. I’ll be fine. I won’t get hurt. I promise I won’t.”

In eighteen hundred years, Hanbin had never broken a promise to you. Until now. He was painfully aware that somehow, something had gone wrong on that battlefield. He couldn’t remember what, but something alerted him that everything was very, very wrong. 

“Y/n? Y/n! Where are you?” Hanbin’s shouts landed on deaf ears, echoing around the dark void without anyone to receive them. He didn’t know where he was, or how he ended up there in the first place. The last thing he remembered was you holding him close, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead with tears in your eyes. Why were you crying? Why did you look so scared?

His gaze dropped to his hands, inspecting them as if they would give him some answers. They looked normal, but something felt different. He couldn’t feel his magic surging in his veins. Before, he could sense his heart beating slowly if he focused, but now, it felt like it was pounding in his chest, so loud he couldn’t stop hearing it. He ran his tongue along the front of his teeth: no fangs. 

Was he… no longer a vampire? 

He touched his collarbone, feeling for the tattoos. They were still there, yet they didn’t react to his touch. No glowing, no surge of his powers, just stillness. He gulped. For the first time, unquenchable fear filled his body.

For hundreds of years he had learned to live a certain way. Always close to you, so that his powers could be strongest. Always in harmony between his natural body and supernatural vampiric features. He never needed to worry about sickness or the cold. He could transform into a bat at will or heal wounds, both physical and mental. 

He felt useless now, unable to do any of the things he used to. Lost, without a single direction to go towards. He couldn’t remember what he did as a human; what he used to fill his time with. It was too long ago to recall. He felt like he had just been born again, with no sense of how to go about the world. He’d have to learn all over again. But first, he was determined to find you. 

He wasn’t himself without you. You had held a part of him for too long, caring for his soul as if it was your own. If he wasn’t with you, he had no purpose. So, he took a few steps forward, slowly getting used to the feeling of the ground beneath his feet. Every step took energy he wasn’t used to expending. He felt weak, as if he could pass out at any moment. A pounding headache across his forehead and a weak unstable feeling in his knees. He had never felt this weak as a vampire. 

With each step he took, more ground appeared beneath his feet. Slowly, a sort of town came into view. It was quaint. Little wooden cottages topped with red roofs. Signs pointed out the street names and directions. He stopped to read a few, figuring out which way to head next. He hesitantly chose the town centre, deciding it was a reasonable spot to start. 

People stared at him as he walked by. He didn’t care to find out why. Years of only caring about your opinions trained him to not give them a second glance. He knew his purpose, sure of himself and confident. Although he was scared to admit that his confidence was wavering without you by his side. 

He reached the town square where an official looking building stood next to a fountain. He assumed it must be the governor’s office or some mayor’s building. Maybe he could get a list of residents? He stepped up the stairs, pulling the door open to be met with a fairly empty entranceway. There was a line of counters, behind which secretaries typed away at their typewriters and scribbled on paper with pens. He walked up to one of the open spots on the counter, face-to-face with an elderly man who’s fingers flew across the typewriter with practised ease.

“How may I help you?” His accent was thick and his tone weighted down by dull tiredness. He didn’t seem fazed by whatever had caused the other residents to stare unabashedly at Hanbin. The old man barely blinked twice at him.

“I’m looking for a list of residents in the town. I need to contact someone.” Hanbin said quietly. The man nodded, muttering that he would find a list in the back somewhere. As Hanbin was left alone for the time being, he surveyed the other people in the building, each talking at the counter as well. They were too quiet for him to make out the conversations; his hearing significantly weakened since he lost his powers. One voice stood out, though.

“No, not Hanjin— I’m looking for Hanbin! Sung Hanbin.”

Hanbin’s eyes widened, his head whipping around to try to find the owner of the loud voice. 

“How many times do I have to repeat myself? He’s about 180cm tall, has dark black hair, pale skin, and a slim face. He has to be in your records somewhere.”

“Ma’am, I’m sure we can find him, rest assured. What did you say his birthday was again?”

“June thirteenth.”

“What year?”

“25.”

“1925?”

“No. 25. The year 25. Zero, zero, two, five.”

“Ma’am, I’m not sure I follow. Do you mean to say he is over nineteen hundred years old? No human has ever—”  

Hanbin had never felt his heart race so fast. Adrenaline pulled at every muscle in his body so suddenly he could hardly comprehend what was happening before his legs were rushing him over to where you stood, arguing with the lady at the counter.

“Y/n,” He called to you, and time seemed to slow as you turned your head. “Excuse us,” He mumbled quickly to the lady at the counter, grabbing your wrist and pulling you out the door of the building. He kept walking, his hold on your arm tight, afraid you would disappear. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, entranced by his appearance. Once he had found a secluded area, he stopped walking, trailing his hand up your arm to your shoulder instead.

“What happened? Where are we?” The questions flew out of his mouth. You didn’t have an answer for him. 

“I’ve been looking for you for days.” Tears brimmed in your eyes as you looked at him. You touched his cheek with your hand. It felt warm. 

“What happened on the day of the battle?” He asked again, prying for an answer. You shook your head, tears falling. You just stepped closer, wrapping your arms around him, head against his chest. Shaky breaths in as you felt his heartbeat; steady, fast, warm. 

“I don’t want to think about it.” You told him quietly. Hanbin could only hold you, mind confused and worried. There were so many questions he had. He was sure you had the answers, if only you’d tell him. But he wouldn’t push you, not when you clearly were in a delicate mental state. 

He wished he could feel you like he used to. You had only been in his arms a few minutes, but it felt different. He couldn’t relax your body with a spell, or get a peek into your thoughts. He tried to figure you out from the outside, and that was a difficult task. 

“We should get you new clothes. These ones are soaked with blood.” You mumbled after a while, face still buried against his chest. Hanbin looked down to his sleeve, noticing for the first time that he did have very obvious stains. No wonder he got so many curious stares. He wondered what they were from. Surely, it couldn’t have been his own blood. He wasn’t injured or bleeding. 

“Y/n, what is this town?” Hanbin asked anxiously, as he spotted someone looking at you both from across the road. 

“It’s for the undead. Everyone here has already passed away, including you and me.”

“What?”

zerobaseone taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @okshu,, @chewryy,, @haecien,, @sobun1est,,

@emmylksblog,, @talkingsaxy,, @thesunsfullmoon,, @chenleszone,, @sxmmerberries,,

@cupidslovearrows,, @dimplewonie,, @50-husbands,, @hursheys,, @mjupis,,

@kangtaehyunzzz,, @nonononranghaee,, @forever-atiny,, @nicholasluvbot,, @stantxtforabetterlife

[stargazet]

rant incoming I AM TIRED OF YOU HOES BEING ALL "i wOULD give more comments but idk what to sayyyy🥺/my comments are just xy🥺🥺" HOW ABOUT YOU GO THINK OF A COMMENT OR JUST TYPE YOUR SILLY XY COMMENT ON 30 FICS WITH ONLY SLIGHT ALTERATION INSTEAD OF POSTING ABT HOW YOU ARE UNABLE TO COMMENT.

it pisses me off to no end that most readers need to be coddled and begged for just a SPECK of a reaction. You wanting to leave more kudos on a fic does NOT keep fandoms alive. your "i would comment but" does NOT keep fandoms alive!! you keep giving us excuses upon excuses as to why NONE OF YOU can type up 5 coherent words, but you want longfics and you want well-written fics and you want consistent updates on fics and PLEASE just keep bringing us the fics. I dont care anymore if you're shy or feel stupid, GUESS WHAT?? I'm putting my art, my soul, my joy out into the world for you to see and you think you can excuse your silence with being shy and scared uwu🥺🥺

You know what they tell every artist of any kind when they just started their craft and are not good at it??? To practice, that's right. So get your heads out of your lazy asses and practice. I don't care how many comments keep sounding similar, ao3 is not the mindhive of an individual, WE WILL NOT NOTICE IF YOU SAID THE SAME THING TO 5 DIFFERENT AUTHORS, BUT WE WERE ONE OF THOSE 5 AND WE WILL NOTICE THAT.

And if you hit me with the "But if it's from the same author-" well that's the perfect time to practice making different comments, isn't it?!

Yall get HUNDREDS of posts encouraging you to do this time and time again, even posts that TELL YOU WHAT TO COMMENT, do you realize how embarrassing that is for you as a readership??? Artists not just giving you the art but having to fucking teach you how to respond to that art?? can't you people do nothing but mindlessly consume?? We work our asses off FOR FREE, hoping to inspire others, wishing to connect with our art, our fics, and you are nothing but a void. A black hole. It's frankly not just so disheartening and frustrating, it's quite disgusting if you think about it. Am i just feeding a machine? You sorry lot of gawkers can't even say fucking "thank you for making this." the 5 coherent words in question.

I'm SO tired of seeing you bitches give me excuses and empty promises and SO tired of not even being heard when i yell and scream and shout like I do now. The commenters are keeping you husks and ghosts fed for now, but one after the other, your artists will get fed up or discouraged and they'll stop posting. If you only want fandoms with 3 big creators, then ig you'll get exactly that. I bet it will be fun and not at all stagnant or turn into a mini cult where one guy keeps shaping the collective! But I hope when this happens, and it will if yall don't change your approach real fucking quick, that you'll at least remember that you all snuffed your artists little lights out, one by one, with your haunting silence.

And now open ao3 and get your greasy fingers onto that comment section or so help me god

[harryshousekey]

Target {H.S.}

This is on wattpad (harryshousekey,) but sharing another spicy chapter that the groupchat was scared of :)

THIS IS SMUT. - Harry x OFC // From Harry's POV

Whatever Harry era you want (it's BTA harry in the book)

Vienna is a small blonde with brown eyes :)

He was literally hired to kill her. If you happen to read this psychological warfare of a book i'm writing, leave me a comment over there and we might have to kiss.

Word Count: 3,207

Vienna Pierce

While I have no idea what Harry is saying to the man at the bar, I feel absolutely terrified. He’s got his glass in his hand, fingers gripping tightly. My skin is crawling with anticipation, and I can’t wait to sit back down. Listening to Kaydie say perverted things to Niall sounds about four hundred times better than watching Harry inch on the line of killing a man.

Someone taps me on the shoulder, making me spin my head around. Just a young couple, trying to get past me into the club. I step to the side and turn back around–oh. Harry has either used the glass or his fist to punch the man in the crotch. Yeah, he might kill me tonight. I see him speak to him once more before casually walking away, leaving the man folded over in pain. Sorry, Jack.

Harry is quickly approaching me, eyes dark and my wallet in hand. I had left it sitting between him and Kaydie when I went to find drinks. I really wish I’d stayed on that couch now, even if I’m sure it’s got more blood and bodily fluids on it than a public toilet. Beats the anxiety I feel churning in my stomach as Harry gets closer.

His feet finally meet mine, and he quickly grabs my wrist, and drags me out of the loud club. The humid night air feels like a drink of ice-cold water compared to the sweaty feeling of the club. There’s enough body heat in that building melt the Arctic. We shove our way past the bouncer, the crowds of people smoking, and a drunken bachelorette party before finally reaching the sidewalk. 

Harry’s hand still has a tight grip on my wrist, my fingers attempting to pry it off. His heavy rings are hurting my new nails, and his grip is no match for me, even with how angry I am. Adrenaline can’t beat crazy. Nothing beats crazy.

Despite my obvious defeat, I keep working at my wrist, trying to use my left hand to pull him off. His eyes watch in amusement as I continue to struggle, knowing I’ll never win this one. Eventually I give up, and he calls a cab.

Harry doesn’t say a single word on the way back. He doesn’t have to. His grip on my wrist says everything he’s holding back. Every hard step he takes, every clench of his jaw, and the way his nostrils flare each time I even shift beside him—it all tells me just how pissed he is.

The entire car ride is suffocating. I try to press myself against the door, wanting as much distance as possible, but it doesn’t help. His silence is worse than shouting. At least shouting would give me something to fight back against. This? This is something else. It’s calculated, seething, controlled in a way that makes my stomach churn.

I think about the poor man who decided to speak to me, just drinking with a girl at a bar before he got assaulted. Harry seems punchable right now, not even facing me. He put his seatbelt on, though. I can appreciate that.

When we finally pull up to the house, I barely wait for the car to stop before I yank the door open and step out. My heels click against the pavement, but before I can get too far, Harry is behind me. His fingers wrap around my upper arm this time, and he all but hauls me inside.

The door slams shut. I spin around, ready for whatever comes next, but he just stands there, staring at me. His eyes look void of any compassion or empathy I mistakenly saw. He looks like the man in the woods again. But at the same time, I know he couldn’t have cared less about a man hitting on me if he truly felt that way. He’s so paradoxically emotionless, it makes my head spin and my stomach spin.

“Are you gonna say something, or are you just gonna keep acting like a fucking caveman?” I fidget with the hem of my dress, voice wavering slightly. As pissed as I am, I know he’s more pissed. The difference is he has no qualms about shooting me. His jaw flexes, but he doesn’t answer.

“Oh, right. You’re too angry to speak. Too busy deciding whether I deserve a lecture or a bullet, yeah?” I throw my hands up, even though he’s not looking at me. “Just get it over with, Harry.” The last sentence comes out as more of a plea for mercy, really. I can’t take much more.

His silence snaps like a wire pulled too tight. He spins quickly on his feet, fists clenched tightly as he turns around. “What the fuck were you thinking?” He throws his own arms up in the air for emphasis now, startling me.

Discreetly taking a step back, I roll my eyes. “Here we go—”

“No.” His voice is sharp enough to cut through my skin. He steps forward, and for the first time tonight, I actually second-guess pushing him. “You don’t get to roll your eyes like a brat and brush this off. You walked straight into that club dressed like—” He cuts himself off, dragging a hand through his hair, pacing once before turning back to me. He uses his hands to gesture up and down my body. “Like you had no fucking clue what could happen to you.”

My face burns. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He steps closer, lowering his voice to something more lethal. “You put yourself in danger. Again. And for what? To have a good fucking time? To see how far you could push it before someone decided to take advantage of you?”

I shove his chest, and he barely moves. “You don’t get to decide what I do.”

“The hell I don’t.”

“You’re not my fucking keeper, Harry.” I remind him harshly, and even I’m not sure how true that statement is. His lip curls, and he lets out a harsh laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Really? Because I’m the one dragging you out of clubs before some asshole gets the wrong idea about a girl dressed like a–”

The words hit me like a slap. My breath catches in my throat, and for a second, I can’t do anything but stare at him. I know the word that comes next. The word I’ve been stabbed with countless times. Gun on my thigh, I’m tempted in a sinister way. The room feels too quiet, like even the house knows he crossed a line.

I swallow, forcing down the sting in my chest. “Fuck you, Harry. You don’t get to decide who I am. And what the fuck are you so pissed about?” I dare to take another step foward, cocking my head to the side. “The fact that maybe a man doesn’t want to kill me? That maybe it’s possible for someone to find me attractive? You’re honestly and genuinely a psycho, Harry. In every form of the fucking word.” Hate spews from my mouth before I can stop it, and Harry takes a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair.

He opens his eyes after calming down. “No, Vienna. You wanna know what I’m so worried about? Why I’m such a fucking psycho about that guy?” His voice is deeper than usual, his drawl heavy in a way it only gets when he’s pissed. I cock an eyebrow and tap my foot impatiently, waiting on an answer. “It’s because that man, if you can even call him that, was drinking water.”

My eyebrows furrow at his words, still not understanding. “What the fuck do you even–” he cuts me off, taking a step back so we’re both now inside the kitchen island, surrounded by clean granite. “Water, sweetheart. He was going to get you drunk and stay sober.” My eyes widened in realization, horror washing over me as images flashed through my mind–another universe where I’d stayed at the bar.

“So that’s why I’m so psycho, if you really wonder.” He turns us around, trapping me in on the intersection of the counters. He smiles too calmly, and opens his mouth to speak one last time. “Do you think I’m that crazy, sweetheart? Or are you too arrogant?” He phrases it like a question, but gives me my answer. It burns in the back of my throat. His words smell like whiskey, and the whole thing is just too much. My senses are in overdrive now.

He taps his fingers on the cool countertop beside us, expectantly. He’s waiting on my answer. I feel my mind whirl, and I already know. I just nod slowly.

I don’t move. I can’t.

The weight of Harry’s words, the way they slither through the air and coil around my throat, keeps me frozen against the cool granite. My heart pounds so loudly that I can barely hear myself breathe. My entire body is waiting, caught in a limbo between fight and flight, but there’s no real decision to make. Not when he looks at me like that. Not when I realize—I like it.

I like the way he scares me.

It hits me all at once, like a crash I saw coming but refused to brace for. The tension between us has always been sharp, but now, it cuts deeper. My skin prickles under his stare, the air between us thick with something I don’t want to name. Fear should make me want to run. It should make me push him away, scream at him, do anything but let this moment stretch out the way it does. And yet…

Harry takes his time, tapping his fingers against the counter beside me. His rings click against the stone, steady, measured, like a countdown to something inevitable. His other hand stays exactly where it is—his palm heavy against my thigh, right where the gun rests. He hasn’t moved it since he trapped me here. It’s a silent reminder, a warning, a promise. My skin burns beneath his touch.

He tilts his head, studying me like he’s waiting for something. A reaction. An answer. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. Do I tell him that I finally understand? That the fear he puts in me doesn’t push me away—it draws me in? That I can’t tell where the fear stops and the desire starts? I swallow hard, my throat dry.

“Say it,” he murmurs.

I blink up at him. “Say what?”

His grip tightens on my thigh, fingers pressing into the sensitive flesh. The gun doesn’t move, just sits there, a cold contrast to the heat between us. “Say you know I’m right.”

I don’t need to ask what he means. We both know. My lips part, but no words come out.

Instead, I do something reckless.

I lift my hands and slide them up his chest, slow enough to feel every ridge of muscle beneath his shirt. He doesn’t stop me. Doesn’t move at all. Just watches me, his expression unreadable. My fingers trail up to his jaw, my nails barely grazing his skin, and I feel the sharp inhale he takes.

The air shifts.

Then, before I can think better of it, I push forward and kiss him.

It’s not soft. It’s not sweet. It’s a collision of heat and frustration, of defiance and surrender all at once. I half-expect him to shove me away, to tell me this is another one of my bad decisions. But instead, he grips my waist and lifts me onto the counter in one smooth motion, never once removing the gun from my leg.

I gasp against his lips, but he doesn’t give me space to think, to second-guess. His hands move like they own me, fingers digging into my thighs as he spreads them apart, pulling me flush against him. My dress rides up, and the gun presses firmer against my skin, reminding me exactly who I’m dealing with. Exactly what he’s capable of.

And I love it.

I break the kiss just enough to look up at him, my breath uneven. His eyes are dark, his lips slightly parted, and for a moment, neither of us speak.

Then he smirks, dragging his fingers along the edge of my dress. “That’s what I thought.”

I should hate him. I should slap him, scream at him, do something other than pull him back in.

But I don’t.

I kiss him again, harder this time, and let myself fall. His fingers drum against the countertop beside me, each tap digging into my skin like a warning, a countdown. I can’t breathe. Or maybe I’m breathing too much, too fast. My lungs burn, and my stomach twists in a way that has nothing to do with fear—and everything to do with him.

Harry fucking Styles.

He’s watching me, head tilted just slightly, amusement flickering across his face like he already knows the answer I don’t want to give him. His smile is the cruelest thing about him, carved sharp enough to cut. I hate that he sees right through me, right into the part of me I don’t want to acknowledge.

My body betrays me before my mind can catch up. I nod, slow and hesitant, but he doesn’t miss it. Of course he doesn’t.

His eyes darken, his smirk widening. “That’s what I thought.”

Before I can respond, before I can even process, he moves. His hands grip my thighs, rings biting into my skin as he lifts me onto the counter. My breath stutters. The cold granite sends a shiver up my spine, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of his body, the way he doesn’t pull away.

The gun never leaves my leg. The barrel is cold through the fabric of my dress, a silent reminder of what he is, of what he’s capable of. Of what he’s already done. My heart pounds, every pulse screaming at me to run, to fight back, to do something—

But I don’t. I sit there, knees bracketing his hips, watching him. Wanting him.

“You like it, don’t you?” His voice is low, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns on my thigh. My breath hitches.

“I don’t—”

“Liar.” He leans in, his nose brushing against mine, and my head tilts back instinctively, giving him room. My throat feels too tight, my body too warm. His breath is whiskey-laced sin, and I am drowning in it.

“Harry,” I whisper, but I don’t know if it’s a plea for mercy or for more. He must know, though, because his smirk deepens, his grip tightening just enough to make me gasp.

“Tell me to stop,” he challenges, his lips ghosting over my jaw, lingering just beneath my ear. “Tell me you don’t want this.”

I should. I know I should. But the words lodge in my throat, suffocating beneath the weight of what I really want. What I can’t admit.

He waits, but we both know I won’t say it. And when his lips finally crash into mine, I don’t pull away.

I pull him closer.

His fingers press against my thigh, the cold bite of metal from the gun a stark contrast to the heat burning under my skin. I should be afraid. Maybe I am. But not in the way I should be.

The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken things. He doesn’t move away. Doesn’t let me go. Instead, he leans in closer, his breath warm against my jaw.

“You like it, don’t you?” His voice is low, almost amused. “The way I scare you.”

I can’t answer, not with my breath locked in my throat. But he sees it—sees the way my thighs squeeze together, the way my fingers grip the cool granite beneath me. He smiles. It’s not kind.

His hands find the hem of my dress, pushing the fabric up until it’s bunched at my waist. I should stop him. Tell him no. But I don’t. I don’t want to. My head tilts back as his fingers slide against my bare skin, dragging over my thighs, teasing closer and closer to where I need him most.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, dark eyes drinking me in. “So desperate for a man you claim to hate.”

I shudder as his lips brush against my inner thigh, his teeth grazing my skin just enough to make me whimper. My hands tangle in his hair, nails scratching against his scalp as his mouth moves higher. He groans, the sound vibrating against me as he presses a kiss over the thin fabric of my panties.

“Harry—”

He pulls the material to the side before I can finish, his tongue flicking out to tease me. My hips jerk in response, a strangled gasp slipping from my lips. He holds me still with strong hands, fingers pressing bruises into my thighs as he licks a slow, agonizing stripe over me.

“Fuck,” I choke out, thighs trembling.

He chuckles against me, the vibration shooting straight through me. “That’s it,” he mutters, before his tongue delves deeper, flicking and curling in ways that make me see white.

My head falls back, my breath coming in quick, uneven pants as he devours me like he’s starving. Every flick of his tongue, every graze of his teeth, it’s all too much and not enough at the same time. He’s relentless, like he wants to ruin me right here on this counter.

My grip tightens in his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan against me. The sound sends another wave of heat rolling through me. I can’t think. Can’t breathe. The pressure builds in my stomach, winding tighter and tighter until I’m about to snap.

His fingers dig into my thighs as he sucks hard, and I break. A cry rips from my throat as pleasure crashes over me, my body trembling under his hold. He doesn’t stop. Not until I’m writhing, whimpering, begging him to let me breathe.

When he finally pulls away, his lips glisten, his eyes locked on mine with something dark, something possessive. He drags the back of his hand across his mouth, smirking.

“Still think I’m a psycho, sweetheart?”

I nod desperately, my eyes begging for him to return to what he was doing. My fingers move to try and grab at the countertop, obviously failing. He watches me for a second before dropping to his knees on the hard floor below us, leaving me exposed in the air. My legs are open in the exact direction of the door. I pray to God Niall and Kaydie keep it in their pants long enough to not rush home.

I’m snapped out of my thoughts as Harry continues, giving me no warning before pulling my panties to the side again, metal rings digging cold into my skin. He’s actually going to kill me. I’m going to die. Rather it be from a stroke due to the way he’s furiously lapping at my skin, or from the gun on his side. I’m going to die. And you know what the worst part is?

I’m not even mad about it.

[jessepinwheel]

I'm being so serious right now if you are making a really time- and effort-intensive personal project like a comic or a novel or whatever else for which you are not getting paid or otherwise compensated for (e.g., as part of a class for credit) it is so important to have a few friends who will hype you and your project up and tell you what they think because the feeling of spending hundreds of hours (and in some cases a not insignificant amount of money) on a project and putting it out there (especially if it's original work) and getting absolute crickets fucking sucks

"but you should make things for yourself" if I only cared about projects for myself I could fantasize about them in my head and not spend literal years working on it and use that time for something else instead

"but you can see the views counter in analytics" I don't want number go up I want to hear from a human person that they observed the thing I made and had thoughts about it

"but I'm just some random person how much of a difference can it make" literally all the difference between it feeling like absolutely nobody gives a shit and knowing there was a point to putting in all that work

don't take creation for granted. if you have friends who make things you can be a hero by looking at the things they make and saying words about it to them. if you are enjoying projects made by other people you should say words about it to them so they know you are enjoying it and are not just shouting into the void.

[keep-both-eyes-on-trump]

I grew up in a swing state, in a rural county, surrounded by white people and steeped in traditional Catholic values. I grew up staunchly conservative surrounded by similarly conservative people. My neighborhood was all white. My mom once told me a story about how a black family had been run out of our small town. My school class had almost one-hundred fifty students with one black girl who’d been adopted into a white family and one native american boy. In high school there was one out gay boy who wasn’t even in my grade and six teen pregnancies that were in my grade. 

As I was approaching official adulthood, the ripe old age of eighteen, I was already drawing away from some of my family’s core values. I was no longer attending church on Sundays, to my father’s existential horror that he had failed to save my soul, having reached the conclusion that their teachings on the sins of queer people and the expected submissiveness of women were wildly off base. I was generally in favor of then President Obama’s policies despite my family’s overt assertions that he was one of the worst presidents in recent history. Though I had been a supporter of John McCain in 2008, unable to vote, by November 2012 I was in my first semester of college surrounded by more diversity than ever before and tentatively supportive of Barack Obama and even more tentatively hopeful he would win again. 

When asked, I told my parents truthfully that I hadn’t voted and received a lecture on my failure to uphold my civic duty. I did not mention that I was more than satisfied with the outcome of the election. 

Like many who attend higher education, especially those in my chosen field of social work, I became more and more democratic with my views during my three years spent completing my degree. By the time I moved to one of the largest cities in my state to complete my graduate degree, I was what Trump would refer to as “radically” and “dangerously” left and, as you know from my first post, voted for the first time for Hillary Clinton in 2016. 

This time, when asked if I voted, I lied. I also began to test the waters, bringing up topics to discuss that I had previously avoided only to discover that my family was as conservative through and through as I remembered and more than a few of them were openly dismayed at how college had “libralized” me even though I had admitted to nothing. 

Since then I’ve remained silent when politics are brought up, when racist or sexist comments are made, and when my cousin called her gay principle “disgusting” for having a family photo on his desk. I’ve said nothing when family called President Biden a failure or a “fucking idiot”, claimed that women shouldn’t be president, and believed Trump did the best he could with COVID-19 pandemic, if they even acknowledged it as a pandemic at all. 

I stayed silent out of fear. I was, am, afraid of their reactions, of what they would say to me and about me if I voiced just how divergent my opinions are from theirs. If I said outright, “I am Pro-Choice, I believe in supporting LGBTQ+ rights and protections and teaching comprehensive sex education to children, I agree with universal healthcare and free public post-secondary education and student loan forgiveness.” 

I’ve lied out of fear too. Lied about voting, lied about getting flu and COVID vaccines, lied about being queer. 

And now it’s time to stop. And this is the first step. Putting metaphorical pen to metaphorical paper, shouting out into the void and entrenching myself in what I used to ignore. It may take a moment before I challenge anyone in my life outright but that’s okay. It’s the steps forward that count, it’s holding on to what you believe and speaking out in whatever way is achievable for you. 

If you, like me, find yourself surrounded today by those who subscribe to far-right beliefs, remember: they may be louder, they may be meaner, but you are not alone. We are here with you. 

The Watcher

[skepsiss]

Oh you don’t say? Ok, fluffy one shot idea for you. Steve, backstage, when Eddie comes back from his First Ever Packed Show! “They really loved me Stevie!! 🥹����” excited and exhilarated and exhausted??

I saw this JUST before I was going to bed xD But I'll reply to it now. (other people feel free to send me things, not just my pal void! Also, go check out their writing). First ever packed show; Eddie was like a firework. His explosion of energy was evident, and the colour that came off of him was like catching wind in a sail. It just urged you forward. It was impossible not to be compelled by Eddie, and that was more than obvious as the roar of a full stadium reached Steve backstage. This wasn't Eddie's first show, but it was the first big league one. The stadium was sold out, and everyone here was screaming for Corroded Coffin. It was wild to think that the four men out there on the stage had come from little-town-nowhere and were now adored by hundreds. It was impossible not to adore Eddie. He knew how to put on a performance, and he knew how to engage the audience in a way that only a true showman could. Steve could never do something like that. He never wanted that much attention on him. He was proud of Eddie though, more proud than he could put into words. The band ran off-stage as the crowd continued to yell, the lights around them dimming as Steve already heard shouts for an encore. It didn't seem to matter how much the people adored Eddie though, because Steve could see that as soon as Eddie reached the wings he was looking around wildly for him. "Steve!" Eddie yelled, spying him against one of the back walls. He had chosen that spot to stay out of the Grips' way but hadn't wanted to go too far and miss the performance. "Present," Steve said, raising a hand and then opening his arms as he saw Eddie beelining it for him. Eddie was in his arms in a flash, throwing all of his weight on Steve as he latched on around his neck and hugged him tightly. He was damp with sweat and Steve couldn't help the involuntary 'ouph' that escaped him from the impact.

"Steve!" Eddie shouted again, pulling back to hold Steve's face in his hands. "Sold out, baby! Sold out! Did you see that? They love us--they freaking love us!" Eddie's smile was so brilliant that Steve was certain he could have lit up the whole solar system if he tried. His eyes were twinkling, and despite how exhausted he looked, there was an unbridled energy that hummed behind his expression. "I saw, I saw---" Steve chuckled, letting himself be manhandled. Eddie was like this after every show. His adrenaline was high, and his lust for life was like nothing else. He loved being famous. He loved performing, and Steve knew that he was meant to do it. Eddie was supposed to wow crowds and put on one of the best shows on the planet. "They're asking for an encore," Eddie said, nose to nose with Steve. His smile hadn't faded at all, and Steve felt the infectiousness of it as he grinned back. "Can't blame 'em," Steve replied with a laugh, holding Eddie around the waist. "You should get out there." "Don't go anywhere," Eddie said quickly, looking over his shoulder at the guys who were already standing in the wings, ready to head back out there. "I'll be right back. I'll---I'll be right back." Eddie kissed him hard on the mouth, and Steve hardly got the chance to kiss back before Eddie was rushing back toward the stage. It was hilarious to watch him stumble over himself and then try to look composed as he walked back out to a cheering crowd. Steve just smiled affectionately and wiped away the flecks of sweat and makeup that Eddie had gotten on his cheeks. This was par for the course, and Steve had to admit that he loved every second of being in Eddie's glow.

[blueberry-lemon]

Shouting into the Void about Palia, which has begun its open beta.

Palia is a "cozy sim MMO set in a fantasy world", as pitched by the developers at Singularity Six. If I had to set it up in one sentence, I would pitch it as something like "what if an MMO didn't need to have combat?"

Which is something I'm really excited about.

To clarify, I think the MMO term is slightly misleading. When you log on, you're sent to an instance of around 25 players or so, similar to how Sea of Thieves works. For what it's worth, I think this is actually a preferable experience versus being a "true MMO" with hundreds of people crowding around the town area. I think they made the right call.

Although I have some small critiques and some reservations about recommending Palia during its open beta state, I'm having a really fun, relaxing time and I'm really looking forward to how the game grows. Full thoughts below.

--- I'm sure people will be quick to compare Palia to Stardew Valley and Animal Crossing. This is valid, and probably something the developer wants you to do. Like those games, Palia is about relaxing and having a good time in a simple town with charming NPCs.

That said, I think the closest analogs to how Palia works are actually Disney Dreamlight Valley and Yonder: The Cloud Catcher Chronicles. Dreamlight Valley I think is the most direct competition, so to speak. It's funny to see that another developer got to the multiplayer pie before Disney's teams were able to fully add multiplayer, lol.

In Palia, you dress up your character and you customize your home. I think the art is really great, and the animation has really impressed me. There's a great variety of outfits (although to be clear, 30% of clothing options are available from the start and the other 70% is, for now, premium currency only.) There's unfortunately only 2 choices of body type in the Open Beta, although the devs claim that more are coming.

There's a shocking amount of customization for your house and your lawn. At least, picture Animal Crossing: New Horizons but with better controls for dragging and dropping where you want everything. People who like setting up their plot of land will have a good time. You can even expand your property to make it larger.

The core of Palia's loop involves you hopping around between progressing the Main Story and progressing 8 different skills: Cooking, Hunting, Bug Catching, Gardening, Foraging, Fishing, Furniture Making, and Mining. In addition to this, you're progressing your friendship meter with the different NPCs and, if you'd like, selecting one to Romance.

There's some really smart innovations in Palia that I like.

For example, your Mining skill only increases when you PICK UP the ore loot that drops from destroying a vein of ore. Why is that? Because you're supposed to work together with friends and strangers. If the skill increased for each time your pickaxe struck the vein, then you'd get annoyed if your friend helped you, because working together would destroy the vein in less strikes. If the skill increased for destroying a vein, then only the person who got the "last hit" would reap the exp reward. In Palia, so long as a player strikes the vein at least once, the loot will drop for them when it's destroyed. This way, anyone around you can "get their hand on that ball" by helping strike the vein at least once. This encourages working together, sharing the loot, etc. The same goes for chopping trees: anyone who contributes at all will get the wood that drops. This naturally encourages people to work together. There's no reason not to, because you're not "stealing" the loot from anyone else or "stealing" the exp.

Cooking is the most fleshed out co-op experience from what I've seen. Recipes require ingredients and a stove or prep station. Then, when you start the recipe, you do minigames to chop ingredients and stir them. So long as any player contributes an ingredient or does one of the minigames, they get the full exp and the finished dishes from cooking, even if that contributing player doesn't have the recipe. So if your friend loves cooking, and has a bunch of recipes, they can initiate the cooking and then you can bring the mushrooms and do the chopping. Then you all get to level up and get the dishes.

Even activities like Fishing are more fun to do together. If you fish near someone else who's fishing, you'll both get a buff that makes the fish bite your hooks much sooner. It stacks higher the more you fish together.

Another smart innovation: a rework of the infamous "stamina meter." This time, it's a Focus Meter. If your Focus Meter drops to 0, nothing happens. You don't pass out, you don't starve, nothing. However, if you DO have Focus, you get a Exp Gain Multiplier. This encourages you eating dishes to stay well-fed without punishing you too strongly if you ignore it.

And then, lastly, the core conceit of the game: there's no combat or danger. Although there is a Hunting Mechanic, it's completely one-sided, like hunting deer (which the game is quick to tell you are overpopulated in the area.) You can't die, you can't get hurt, you don't take fall damage, you don't even have health, period. I think this is great at trimming the unnecessary parts of a game like this and keeping it truly relaxing.

Although I'm having a fun time, I can't wholly recommend the open beta of Palia for everyone. The game is still early in its life and is missing a lot of important UI/UX and central features. The Pause and Settings menus are pretty sparse. You can only have 1 character so far, there aren't multiple character slots. You can't even change your characters name once you've made it, so choose carefully. In addition, you might feel like there "isn't enough to do together" if you play with friends, which is similar to a complaint I have about Animal Crossing multiplayer. It's mostly a chill hangout game about fishing next to each other.

There are a lot of things in the game that still need to be fleshed out, but I'm really happy with the core structure they've set up. Once this game leaves Open Beta, I think it'll be an easier recommendation, especially for folks who have enjoyed Disney Dreamlight Valley. I think these devs are smart about how they're handling the core desire here: wanting to play a game like Final Fantasy XIV or Stardew Valley without having to worry about combat or stamina.

My partner and I love to play these relaxing zone-out types of games. While trying Atelier Ryza recently, my partner said: "I just want a game where you zone-out and pick stuff up off the ground." My friends, we finally found it. It's called Palia.

You can find the Palia Open Beta on PC, and the game is slated to release on Nintendo Switch.

[spaceoperetta]

sometimes I tweet about awards shows on twitter, usually maybe one of my friends and a few randos will like it, it's a fun little addition to, say, watching the VMAs. shouting into the void, as it were.

except for last night! when I had what people would call a 'hit tweet'

(twitter metric which we know is a lie claims over a million people saw it???)

somehow my tweet about Lisa (who I didn't even know went solo from Blackpink) half-assing her lip sync and giving an awful performance blew up BIG TIME and good thing I've had notifications for people I don't know turned off for years because it was an absolute avalanche of kpop fans. In over twenty languages!

Part people agreeing with me, part people saying I'm secretly a BTS fan doing an opp to look like I'm not a fan (a "local" as I learned aka someone who isn't a kpop stan) because I didn't know until last night that BTS fans and Blackpink fans hated each other and saw the other group as rivals!

people were out here pulling my, like, three tweets ever about BTS. (none of which were complimentary beyond "I liked their collab with coldplay!) Kpop stans get some reading comprehension, saying I'm "meh" about BTS doesn't make me a fan, it means I'm not one, one that maccas gave me a BTS bag with my fries, and one where I implied BTS fans did a whole lotta voting to get their faves an award) trying to "prove" I was an opp

Complete strangers were defending me of not being one, of being a true "local", one even pulled that time I posted my spotify wrapped from 2021 to "defend" me from BTS stan allegations. honestly just the idea of accusing some random person watching the VMAs of being a secret anti-fan is bonkers

(all that work and they missed that the one kpop group I actually would say I'm a fan of is Dreamcatcher)

I wasn't even complaining that she was lip syncing, it's the VMAs, duh, it was for having a lazy lip sync where she's actively off/has her mouth shut when the track is still going mlutiple times and yet I had hundreds of delusional stans in my mention going no it's totally live she slayed it, I'm being paid to hate

and then I wake up and look at things in the morning out of morbid curiosity and it's full of blue check accounts bots running my tweet through a "this tweet, but a little to the left" program trying to, what, make money by saying "disappointing" instead of "awful" or "uninspired" instead of "not even trying"

Like, I don't care, didn't engage with it, and am laughing about it, but it was really bizarre

[monebula-art]

Yknow I’m gonna rant about something rq. Maybe a bad take but just 👀👀👀 hear me out.

EDIT: this is legit just a saucy rant it’s not meant to cast blame on anyone and I love both Astarion’s because I find the character progressions and options for both Spawn and Ascended to be equally juicy with their own things to unpack. Every player has the freedom to choose and experience the adventures however they want to. These are legit just. My ramblings in amidst some hate brakes on Ascended that I wanted to shout into the void about. It’s not a dissertation. If anything this is just a ‘What if after the End’ kind of scenario that’s been tumbling around in my head. That’s it.

People give Ascended Astarion a bad rap, but like lemme cook for a smidge. If you stick with him. If you support and love him, sure he’s a little power hungry and arrogant and the power of being the Ascended gets to his head a little.

But like, he mentions going traveling. Seeing the world with you. Maybe for decades, for CENTURIES even. Just the two of you seeing all the world has to offer. He’s spent two hundred years+ STUCK in Baldur’s Gate. His love is no bougie noble who must travel in a carriage. And in fact I’d think a Tav or Durge would insist against it. They would travel like they used to. Like people do. (And famous words that tamed the most notorious of vampires was ‘Travel like people do, you might like it~’)

I think that time would eventually change Astarion back to who he was on track to being before he Ascended. Aka ‘Spawn Astarion’. Seeing the world from a ground perspective. Not above it, alongside it. Having a Tav/Durge who is grounded.

Once his little power trip has run its course, I think he’d mellow out. It might take a decade or two. But he’s got LITERAL ETERNITY to address his hurt. And with a loyal and loving Tav/Durge by his side, being his support and his compass how could he stay lost for long? Like think about it.

Who says yall can’t rule a new nation of Vampires? Who’s to say a world where Vampires can become a diplomatic SOCIETY that can coexist beside other mortals? A world where blood isn’t stolen or taken, but given freely by willing offerers. Where spawn are created to serve by their choice and not stolen out of the night with ultimatums to be slaves??? Where a bite from a vampire doesn’t mean a life of servitude or a death sentence??? Yknow??? Kinda like y’all’s romance first started????

Imagine a Tav who is so passionate about changing THEIR nation, that they build a dream where tormented slave spawns like Astarion and wretched monsters like Cazador don’t EVER HAVE TO EXIST.

And at the top they get to rule it all together. The king and queen of a new nation, a new age of vampires out of the shadows. Where they are beloved and revered and ok maybe a little bit feared, yknow? Rulership is hard.

Tell me in a few decades Astarion wouldn’t be all over that shit. With a dedicated partner, they could guide that ambition of his into something TRULY AMAZING. Like how is no one seeing the POTENTIAL? They swear he’s trash, like he wasn’t totally hanging on you before. Like he doesn’t revere you like the sun as his consort. His treasure??? His love, who he sees and desires eternity with? He’s not just keeping you around for shits n giggles. Like he doesn’t have compassion for people that just because he makes a fucked up choice(one that lowkey you helped him make so if you wanna be like ‘Oh but the 7000 lives!’ Like you made that decision with him. I mean. It was a shitty decision and if you fail the roll you fail the role that isn’t on you. I can get that thinking the Ascendant route is the best course and getting more than you bargained for. And I’ll concede, he’s INSUFFERABLY arrogant. But that’s just one choice in a long line of, really ONLY having fucked up choices to begin with???….. every body has done some irredeemable shit. Not saying you can’t condemn Astarion for that, plenty of the characters already do. But like… you don’t have to??? The lesson was keep living and live better. It’s the only way to make up for the misery and suffering.

He opened up to you once. Permitted your probing, even when it pissed him off. He learned to love you because of that. The power got to his head a little and he’s using that as a substitute coping mechanism for shit he still hasn’t dealt with. It’s fresh. It’s a very open wound he’s trying not to show.

It’ll pass sooner or later. And he’ll have to start healing. That’s why he has YOU. That’s why you stay.

Both Ascended and Spawn say they are with you, if you choose to go down the dark road and embrace your destiny as Durge. Both of them are with you no matter how bloody or deplorable or immoral it gets. Spawn isn’t just suddenly this sweet innocent with a peerless moral compass just because he decided not to ascend. Their dialogue is exactly the same. He’s still THERE and he’s still with his darling.

Miss me with that Ascended is irredeemable but Spawn did nothing wrong. They’re both equally happy to stab someone just for funsies. One hopped on the healing track sooner, that’s it. Abandoning Ascended Astarion right after his ascension just cuz you don’t like how he got a little intense about it is like GUARANTEEING he becomes a bitter and sadistic tyrant. Comparing him to Cazador so soon after he just ended that chapter but has yet to actually DEAL with the chapter mentally or emotionally is an interesting choice, but like… idk a lil wild from my perspective I guess.

You handled him with honesty, trust and patience all up until now, but suddenly he gets a little spooky and you back out? Seems to me like someone is just scared of his power now that he ain’t weaker than you anymore and needs to be protected hm??? Now he can actually fuck you up if he wanted and instead of embracing that with him some of yall wanna be like ‘Oh well now you’re the monster you always hated’.

Grow uuuuup. Make him worse? Make him better??

It has to get worse BEFORE it gets better. That’s how improvement works. It’s everyone’s personal choice to stick with him or bail. I don’t think either choice is a wrong one is all I’m saying. If you’re all in for him, and his mess, and sticking with him for the evil, or even to see if in some aftersotry imagining that time and wisdom eventually mellows him out a bit then cool~ I think that’s possible tbh?

If you think he’s too ‘abusive’ for you to stick with then feel free to end things. It doesn’t make him any less insufferable.

All I’m saying as someone who’s legit been in a few abusive relationships in the past— using possessive language and being manipulative and desperate for control is not a character trait that just appeared out of nowhere after Astarion Ascended. And some folks can just not like the path he took and wanna back out without outcrying a whole essay about why he’s now terrible and abusive and nobody should ever enjoy the Ascendant route. Is all I’m saying.