#posting now that it's no longer 3 am

[yaoiconnoisseur]

Astarion ‘has never had wholesome intimacy’ Ancunin vs Gale ‘none of these thoughts are in the bible’ Dekarios

find me on bsky

[infernoflorys]

media: narcissists only get their supply from directly abusing everyone around them until everyone is manipulated and forced to see them as god.

my friend: i appreciate that you did this task for me. you are a good friend

me, grinning, blushing, twirling my hair, getting the supply: haha no problem man

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 1

Or: a secret Admirer AU

Less than a month into the school year, and Steve’s already making use of the library. If Mrs. Click could see him now, she’d be proud–until she caught sight of the blank notebook page in front of him and the lack of textbooks on the table. 

He feels stupid; he’s hunched over his notebook, trying to make his thoughts transfer onto the page in any coherent form. But, he’s not like Eddie with his impassioned speeches and clever English papers.

Words flow through Eddie in fully-formed, concrete ideas. For Steve, it’s more of a drip. Each word has to be scaffolded onto the previous one with blood, sweat, and tears. Even then, it’s never quite right. Too abrupt, never what he was actually trying to say.

He’s just never been good with words.

By the time he gives up, there’s more crossed out than left written, so he gets a clean page of paper and transcribes it as best he can. He’s left with:

       Your hair is pretty. Do you use conditioner?

Steve tears it from his notebook and lays it flat atop his table in the library, smoothing out any crinkles in the page. It feels like the start to something, sure, but there’s more blank space on the page than words. By a lot.

He leans back over his work, adds a little wonky heart in his blue pen and signs the whole thing—

       ❤ your secret admirer

—the way all the girls who leave notes in his locker do. Their notes are usually on pretty paper, written in sparkly gel pen that smells like strawberries. The i’s are sometimes dotted with little hearts he’ll never admit to finding cute. And there’s envelopes involved, and usually more than eleven measly words.

His looks like something Eddie’ll toss out before opening, mistaking it for trash.

Steve grimaces. How do girls do this? Do they all take some sort of class on how to write pretty letters on pretty enough paper that boys will fall in love with them? Is that what they teach in Home Ec? He should have never let Tommy mock him into switching to shop class.

Should he ask a girl?

Under no conditions will he ever ask Carol. She’d have far too many uncomfortable questions and tell the whole school all of his embarrassing answers. He’d be run out of town within days, Carol holding the sharpest pitchfork.

Steve leans back in his chair with a groan too loud for the library and fists his hands to rub tired eyes.

“Are you okay?” Steve jerks, sending his pen and paper careening to the ground in his attempt to cover the compromising words upon the page. “Oh, sorry!”

Steve watches, horrified, as Chrissy Cunningham bends down to pick his supplies up off the carpet before he’s had time to scramble out of his chair. She’s in her cheer uniform, white zip-up Hawkins hoodie covering her arms. She looks perfect and preppy and just like all the girls who’ve ever left a note in his locker.

She’d be able to write something that Eddie would want to read.

“Steve?” Chrissy’s hovering over him, lips pursed, eyes big and worried. “Are you okay?”

“Shit, sorry,” he replies. She’s got his note clutched to her chest. He curls his fingers against the urge to reach out for it—that’ll just draw her attention, and that’s the last thing Steve wants right now. “Just got lost in my head.”

“Anything I can help with?”

He knows what she’s going to do before it happens. Chrissy’s sweet—if there’s a way to help, she’ll want to. So, she holds out the paper and begins to read, probably expecting an assignment she can tutor him on, and there they are: Steve’s damning words written in still-wet blue ink.

Her brow furrows as she takes an obscene amount of time mouthing out the words before she looks back up to meet his eyes. “Did someone give this to you?”

Her eyes are still big, but they look sad now, like just the thought of someone receiving the note he’d slaved over is enough to distress her. Unable to help himself, Steve snatches it from her hands and crumples it into a ball, damning words hidden in his fist.

Chrissy gasps at his abrupt movement and takes a halting step away.

“I wrote it,” he mutters, no longer able to meet her eyes.

She’s silent for long enough that he’d think she left, except the library’s quiet, and he hasn’t heard her take a step. He stares at the grains of the wood in the table, empty hand rubbing against the smudged top as he waits for her to do something.

“Are you…” she starts, trailing off for a moment before picking her thought back up, “…picking on someone?”

Steve clenches his fist tighter, note crinkling beyond repair beneath his nails as he mutters, “no.”

Chrissy’s quiet again. Steve doesn’t dare to look up, even as he hears the chair across from him pull out, the sound of her weight settling into the wood. The table’s just so interesting. Nothing has ever been as intriguing as the little chip out of its edge, the ring on the wood where someone had let their drink condensate against all the library’s rules.

“Who’s this for?” Chrissy’s voice is soft now, like he’s some sort of horse, prone to bolting when spooked. “Steve?”

Steve looks up. Her eyes aren’t sad anymore; they’re piercing.

He’s always liked Chrissy. She’s the nicest girl in the school, until someone does something she doesn’t like. Then, it’s all disappointed eyes, and pouty lips. It’s like disappointing his Mom, but worse, because his Mom’s never around to stare balefully at him.

The point is, Chrissy’s nice. She’s not like Carol. If he told her, there would be no lynch mob, or fleeing Hawkins in the dead of the night with nothing but the clothes on his back. Probably. Maybe.

Steve tries to smooth out the page, and scowls down at it when the wrinkles refuse to disappear. It’s even worse now, words made illegible by the deep creases his fingers have pressed into the paper. There’s no way Eddie’d ever want a note like this.

So, he says, “Munson,” looking up to try to watch his meaning land on her face.

It doesn’t. Her foreheads all scrunched up as she looks down at the note. Only then does Steve realize he’s caressing the wonky little heart. He pulls his hand back, curling his fingers in so she can’t see the smudge of blue on his pointer finger.

“And you aren’t making fun of him?”

Steve can feel his shoulders drooping. He wants to disappear into the floor, melt into the carpet and become one with all the other mysterious stains upon it. “No.”

“Oh,” Chrissy replies, drawn out and low as she peers down at the crinkled note with a confused frown. But something must click because she straightens, eyes wide beneath her bangs. “Oh!”

It’s loud enough that they both reflexively flinch. But, when no librarians come skulking around any corners, Chrissy turns back to him, gaze uncomfortably intent. Steve wonders, somewhat horrified by the turn his life has taken, if he’s about to get hate-crimed by a cheerleader half his size.

But Chrissy’s nice—always has been, always will be. So, she bites her lip and looks furtively around like she’s only just realized this is a conversation that shouldn’t have any witnesses. “But you like him?” she whispers.

Steve leans forward, matching her energy and pitch as he replies, “yeah,” quiet enough that it’s barely a breath. Chrissy smiles at him, warm and small, just like her hand as she reaches across the table to put it over his and squeeze comfortingly.

The note sits, damningly soiled beneath their linked hands, wrinkled, and smudged, and barely-legible handwriting. The weight that’d lifted with Chrissy’s smile sinks back into his gut.

“But it doesn’t matter,” Steve says, letting go of her hand so he can pull the note closer to himself. “I’m no good at this stuff.”

Steve crinkles the note back up. It’s unsalvageable—a stupid idea executed badly.

He’s in the middle of stuffing it into the pocket of his jeans to keep his keys company until he can toss it out in the comfort of his home when Chrissy says, “maybe I can help?” voice lilting up, like it’s a question.

Steve meets her eyes, hand still half-shoved in his pocket. She’s all earnest now, the way she usually is when there isn’t a sad boy infecting her with his own ineptitude. Eyes shining with conviction, bangs curling sweetly around her face. She’s no Carol, that’s for sure.

“How?” he asks, and when she smiles, it looks a bit like hope.

***

 “I can help you write a better letter,” Chrissy starts. He perks up like a dog the moment its owner gets home. “If you do something for me.”

She feels like scum when he curls back into himself, gaze forlorn.

When she’d caught sight of the note he’d spent what seemed like a full hour pouring over, this isn’t what she’d been expecting. And when she’d finally made out his chicken scratch scrawl, she’d been sure Steve was picking on someone, no matter how unlike him it would have been. But then his shoulders had curled in, and his ears had turned red, and his voice had gone all soft and squishy when he’d said Eddie Munson’s name.

And she’d just wanted to fix it.

So, even as he asks, “what?” all sad and droopy again, she knows she’s going to help him, no matter what he says.

“Date me,” she asserts. It’s only as Steve blinks stupidly at her that she realizes how that came out of her mouth. “No, wait, not really!”

Her hands are waving around wildly and she can feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. In contrast, Steve seems to come back into himself, shoulders shoring up as he smirks across at her with his signature raised brow. The one he’d used while leaning on Nancy Wheeler’s locker last year, or holding her books as they walked to class, and all the other assortment of stereotypical boyfriend activities.

He’d worn it all the time, like it was part of the uniform. 

“I just meant, we could fake it?” His right eyebrow raises to meet his left, forehead scrunching up with his incredulity. “It’s just, Jason and I broke up? And he won’t leave me alone.”

It takes all her strength to keep meeting his eyes as the seconds tick away. But then Steve nods, swings his letterman jacket off, and tosses it across at her. Unprepared for his sudden movement, it hits her in the face and drops into her lap.

“There you go, sweetheart,” he says with a cheesy wink that somehow manages to feel more genuine than any of his actual flirting techniques. “Gotta sell it somehow.”

“What a romantic,” she replies, deadpan, but she pulls his jacket on anyway, something that feels an awful lot like relief steadying her heart rate as she smooths down the too-long sleeves.

Jason’s going to freak out. But after that, maybe he’ll stop calling her house, and trying to put his arm around her at lunch, and trying to pick her up for school every morning. She’d do almost anything to get it into his thick skull that she’s not interested.

So, here she is, hashing out the details of a secret admirer letter from Steve Harrington to Eddie Munson, of all the unlikely pairings.

“What’s wrong with what I wrote?” Steve whines, running his fingers through his hair until it’s all mussed up and falling into his face.

Chrissy snorts. “It sounds like you’re telling him his hair is frizzy and dry.”

“I said it was pretty!” He throws his hands in the air before crossing them and pouting his lower lip out.

Chrissy can’t help but laugh. She’s always liked Steve. He’s nicer than most of his friends, and he’s easy to talk to. But this is a side she’s never seen of him. She’s not sure anyone has; can’t imagine Carol or Tommy seeing him put his whole heart into something and not tearing it to shreds.

“Do you use conditioner?” she asks, throwing finger quotations around it as she reads it off the crumpled page.

Steve’s blushing again, cheeks all blotchy and red, rather unbecoming for the shoo-in for this year’s prom king. “Well, I thought you said you’d help!” he says, a little too loud for the library.

So, that’s how she ends up spending the next hour painfully turning Steve’s earnest thoughts into words on the pretty baby blue paper she’d carefully removed from the back of her daily planner.

In the end, they’re left with this:

       Eddie –

       I wish I could say this to your face, but I’ve never been good with words, and you’d probably think it was a joke.

       I can’t even get myself to talk to you, you’re so distracting.

       I like how pretty your hair is. How do you get your curls so shiny? I want to run my fingers through them.

       I hope this note brightens up your day. You deserve all the smiles you can get.

       Yours,

       Your Secret Admirer

It’s not what she would write, but still, it’s leagues better than what he’d started with. She slides it across to Steve, and he smiles down at it. He reaches his hand out, fingers almost brushing the page before he pulls his hand back, curling his fingers into a fist.

“What if someone sees me?” he asks, voice so quiet she can barely hear him even in the resounding silence of the library.

They’d managed not to talk about it, the dangers of Steve liking a boy. But it’d been present in the hesitancy by which he shared each of his thoughts, looking up at her like each remark would be the last straw before she recoils in disgust.

If someone finds out that Steve has a crush on a boy, it won’t take long until he’s getting beat up between classes or heckled straight out of school. Heck, even with all the rumors floating around about him, Eddie might be the one to throw the first punch.

“Do you want me to deliver it for you?” she asks.

“You’d do that?” he asks back, because apparently no one ever taught him not to answer a question with a question. “For me?”

“What else are fake girlfriends for?” she asks because they’re all questions now, no answers to be had between the pair of them.

Steve laughs, all tension leaving his shoulders as he throws his head back with amusement, eyes downright twinkling as he beams across at her.

“You’re the best, Chrissy,” Steve says, smiling even brighter as she replies, “I know.”

She leaves school that night after pushing Steve Harrington’s love note through the slats of Eddie’s locker, Steve’s letterman jacket keeping her warm from the cold.

This might be the best relationship she’s ever had, fake or not. Eat your heart out, Jason Carver.

PART 2

Welcome to my new AU! This will be posted in 21 parts. It is complete, so there will be a new update each morning until it's all posted. I've elected not to do a tag list, but it will be added to my pinned post each day as well. If that's not your speed, it will be added to Ao3 once it's all been posted here.

Special shoutout to @queenie-ofthe-void for not only their usual fabulous beta work, but also both the original idea and the writing of some of the secret admirer letters. You not only make me a better writer, but this work literally would not exist without you. <3<3

Title of the fic from the song Eyes in the Sun by Florist

[tea-tuesday]

07/01/2024

a month left and i'm not panicking (i am)...! sorry to juxtapose beautiful flowers with a cursed picture of memorizing crim at like 3 am lmao. hope everyone's having a lovely summer and good luck to those who are also studying over the summer ! summer study squad🌞📚, let's go!!! may we be blessed with good grades, passing scores, and a stress-free autumn🙏

[osamusriceballs]

Kinktober Day 27 <3

Ushijima x dirtytalk

Warnings: NSFW, fem reader

Words: ~ 2,3 k

Kinktober Masterlist II -> Next day

"Here, Wakatoshi-kun! Look at this!"

A phone gets shoved into his face, the brightness level way too high for comfort, but he squints to take a look at the screen. A small grunt leaves his lips at the lack of greeting from his red-haired friend, but he chooses to focus on the screen instead.

It's an Instagram post with a picture of him, one taken during the Olympics. He looks at the picture, confused, but then Tendou starts scrolling through the comments

"I'd combust if he called me 'baby' with that deep voice."

"Do you think he's vocal in bed?" Reply: "He doesn't talk much in interviews, so I doubt it." Reply: "What a waste. His voice is so hot."

"LOOK AT HIS ABS *drools*"

"The world is going crazy ever since you said 'baby' in that one interview!" Tendou wildly gestures with his phone still in his hand, his grin almost smug when he elbows Ushijima. A frown appears on the spiker's face as he tries to recall the interview. It was one that he wasn't too fond of, due to the number of personal questions that had been asked. Way too personal questions for his liking.

"Ushijima-san, do you have any plans to start a family soon? When can we expect a baby, a little Ushijima junior?" "Baby?" he had echoed, clearly taken aback by this question, something that the interviewer probably failed to notice, but to the people close to him, it was fairly obvious. The silence after this question lead to speculation on the internet about his relationship status, something that he has kept private so far.

"It wasn't in a sexual way." Ushijima states after skimming through more comments, raising his eyebrows when the messages get more explicit and vulgar. "I was surprised when he asked the question."

"Doesn't matter! The world is going feral now, everybody wants to be Wakatoshi's baby! And even I have to admit that I got butterflies when I heard you say that. Y/n is really lucky~" Tendou hums, mischief clear in his eyes, but Ushijima fails to follow his train of thoughts with this.

"Why is she lucky?"

"Because she gets you to say sweet and dirty things to her all day long. You can't fool me, Wakatoshi-kun; I'm not only your best but also your oldest friend." Tendou winks and strolls ahead, oblivious to the way Wakatoshi is left standing there with a frown on his face, still.

xxxxx

"Y/n?"

You rub your arms dry with a fluffy towel when his voice comes from the other side of the door.

"Hmm?" you hum, smiling excitedly because he is finally back home. "I'll be out in a second."

"Yes, please. We need to talk." You hear him lean against the door frame, clearly waiting for you to come out.

You freeze at his words, eyes growing wide when realization settles in and you fully comprehend his words. "Talk? Talk about what?" you know that you sound shrill and loud, but you can't help yourself but to feel nervous at his serious tone- even more serious than normally.

"About us." Your jaw drops, and you quickly reach for your bathrobe, hastily unfolding the fabric to its full length.

"What do you mean about us? Is there a problem with us?" You finally manage to pull your arms through the fabric, quickly wrapping the fabric along your body before you open the door. You're met with Ushijima's broad chest as he quickly straightens to his full posture. His olive eyes roam over your body, lingering for a short moment on your exposed cleavage before they return back to your face. He looks nervous, there is no other way to put it. "I'm not sure. I think there could might be a problem."

"And what would that be?" You cross your arms in front of your chest, your eyes boring into his face as if you could find answers for his unusual behavior there. You've never seen him like this before. His usual warm eyes are clouded with worry, his hands fidgeting with his phone in his hands. "Toshi? What is it? Please, talk to me." You're tempted to take the phone out of his hands, but you refrain from touching him, not when you don't know what's going on.

"Are you happy with our sex life?" His eyes don't leave your face, not for even the slightest second to see your reaction, and your jaw drops at the sudden question- you expected a lot, but definitely not this.

"I'm- I mean, yes I am? Shouldn't I be? Are you unhappy?" You take a slight step back, creating distance between the two of you, baffled by the sudden implication that he thinks that you're not satisfied. Or that he might not be. Sex with Wakatoshi is great- hard, rough, and passionate. He knows how to fuck you, that is for sure, but he also knows how to be gentle and sweet, how to take care of you and spoil you, especially during aftercare. You lack nothing in your sex life with him- and you hope that he feels the same.

"I am happy. Very. I enjoy sex with you very much much," he states firmly, but that only confuses you more.

"Why are you asking me then? What made you think that I could be unhappy?" You move closer to him, worry etched in your features when you finally take his phone and put it aside to grab his hands.

"Do you want me to talk more? To be more vocal? I saw a video and people kept on commenting how they want me to call them 'baby' and some more things. Would you like that too?" The way he asks nonchalantly like he was just talking about dinner made this even more embarrassing somehow.

"For you to call me 'baby' during sex?"

"Hmm." He nods and looks expectantly at you, his hands squeezing yours while his gaze seems somewhat calmer now that he is convinced that you're satisfied.

"You... you can call me whatever you want. I'm fine with it." You try to sound unbothered and calm, but the slightly shaking note shows how the thought of him calling you "baby" or "his pretty girl" while he thrusts into you does something to you. He nods, hesitating for a second, but then his hands suddenly drop yours to pull you in by the waist, his other hand coming to your chin while he leans down until his lips are close to your ear.

"My baby. Or would you rather be my babygirl?" His honey-like voice almost puts a spell on you, and you find yourself shivering in his arms, thighs involuntarily clenching together. "S-sounds good, Toshi." You bring your hands up to his chest, feeling the hard muscles under his shirt and his slow and steady heartbeat.

"And what would my babygirl like me to do? Does my babygirl want to be touched?" He lowly mumbles against the shell of your ear, your heart now beating faster when his hands start to roam over your body. "Yes," you breathlessly answer, hands slightly clenching into the fabric of his shirt. Definitely not what you had expected as the outcome of the conversation, but vocal Wakatoshi makes your pussy throb with every single word.

"My babygirl needs me to touch her, huh? I will take care of that pretty little princess cunt." He kisses your cheek, and your legs feel like jelly at this point. You cling to him, hanging on every single one of his words. You feel your arousal growing, feel how you start to get wet the more his hands keep touching you.

"More," you whisper, feeling hot and bothered while he keeps on touching you and pressing kisses to your neck. "More? Is my babygirl needy? That pretty princess cunny needs me to touch her?" He lifts the bathrobe just enough to place one hand on your thigh, and you feel like your body is on fire when he touches you there.

"Yes," you gasp, your hands now finding purchase on his shoulders while you cling onto him like your life depends on it. "What does that little princess cunny want? My fingers?" He grazes his fingertips along your thigh, moving dangerously close to your pussy under the bathrobe- bare, and basically creaming for him the longer he keeps playing with your body.

"Or my tongue?" he licks along the column of your neck, and you gasp at his words, the sensation hot and forbidden god. "I want to taste you, baby. You always taste so sweet. Do you want my tongue between your legs? Licking at your pretty pussy?" His fingers reach your throbbing pussy, slightly parting your folds and dipping in your wetness.

"Do it, do it, Toshi, please," you press your legs together around his hand, effectively caging him right where you need it. "Hmm, but you have to cum on my fingers first." He pecks your cheek and pulls his hand away from your legs, just to place it on your hips to guide you towards the bed. "Lay down for me, baby. Open that bathrobe for me."

His baritone echoes through the room, and you feel yourself doing everything like you're in a haze, full of need for him. "Hmm, that's my good girl." He hums apporvingly when you discard the bathrobe on the floor. Your body is trembling in the cool air of the room, but Ushijima is quick to join you on the bed and to hover above you, radiating so much heat that you instantly feel warm.

"Baby, spread your legs for me. Show me everything." You take a deep breath and slowly part your legs, revealing your glistening folds to him. A shiver runs down his body, and he clears his throat before he speaks again, his voice now lower when he is obviously bothered and turned on by the situation. "Look at how wet you are for me. All for me."

You frantically nod, anticipation rushing through your body while you wait for him to touch you. His fingers finally roam over your thighs, and your head falls back into the pillow at the way he touches you, the way he knows exactly where and how to touch you.

"So impatient. I can't wait to be inside of you, to feel you around me." Your gaze falls to the tent in his pants, the thought of him fucking you making your head spin and your pussy throb with need. His fingers move between your legs, moving along your folds and pressing against your clit. You moan at the sensation, your hands fisting the sheets when his thumb prods on your entrance.

"You look so pretty like this. Just waiting for me to touch you, to fuck you. And you feel so good around my fingers." He pushes his thumb inside of you, and you almost close your legs around him. "I will make you feel so good. I will make you cum on my fingers, on my tongue, on my cock." You clench around the digit at his words, your eyes focused on his handsome face while he keeps on rubbing your clit. "More, please more," you whine your body shaking underneath his. "Shhh, I'll give you more. I'll give you what you need, baby." His eyes roam down your body and you almost protest when he pulls his thumb out, just to quickly replace it with three of his fingers. "Oh, Toshi," you whine, your hips arching into him, and you start to fuck yourself on his fingers. He keeps the fast rhythm, pulling his fingers out, and pushing them back inside, curling them pulling them out again. "You feel so good. You're is creaming for me, look at that." His words only add fuel to your desire, and you grab his shoulders to push him down to you to connect your lips in a needy kiss. He groans into your mouth, his movements slowing down for a few moments before he sets his rhythm again, a fast and punishing pace now.

Your nails rake along his bare shoulders, leaving red marks, and he groans at the sensation. "Come on, baby girl. Let me feel you clench around me. Cream on my fingers, make a mess for me," his voice sends you over the edge, and you moan his name when you cum, your walls pulsing and clenching softly around his fingers. He groans your name, sweet praises of how you're his good girl, how pretty you look under him, how much he loves you, leave his lips and your body arches from the bed into his while your face contorts in pure bliss.

He prolongs your high, making sure to keep his pace and to curl his fingers just the right way, and your body goes limp when he finally slows down. His lips meet yours, pressing chaste and loving kisses to your face. "Was that okay?" The slight frown on his face is back, a clear sign of him being deep in thoughts when he pulls back after a few more kisses.

"More than okay. I think I could cum from your voice alone." You smile up at him and cup his cheek, the afterglow making you feel so good while you lay under him.

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity now sparkling in his eyes at your words, and you are quick to explain further. "I- I didn't mean that literally. Like- I just wanted to say that your voice is hot. And you are hot." Your cheeks heat up when he simply nods and hums, a mild smile on his lips.

"I want to test that out. Let's see if I can make you cum with my voice alone, baby."

[lavenoon]

@naffeclipse the bounty hunter continues to not be free of me, same as I am not free of him

*self insert is not a girl (he/she)

og detective au by sunnys-aesthetic!

[messiahzzz]

while it’s perfectly fine to have your own headcanons that are non-canon compliant — by all means, go wild. recognizing pieces of yourselves in fictional characters can be a very healing and validating experience. this is nonetheless a casual, well-intentioned reminder that gale, in fact, does not have bpd.

bpd is a pervasive pattern of instability affecting interpersonal relationships, self-image, and mood. the disorder is marked by impulsivity beginning in early adulthood and is present in a variety of contexts. a diagnosis requires at least 5 of the following 9 criteria to be met:

Fear of abandonment

Unstable or changing relationships

Unstable self-image; struggles with identity or sense of self

Impulsive or self-damaging behaviors (e.g., excessive spending, unsafe sex, substance abuse, reckless driving, binge eating).

Suicidal behavior or self-injury

Varied or random mood swings

Constant feelings of worthlessness or sadness

Problems with anger, including frequent loss of temper or physical fights

Stress-related paranoia or loss of contact with reality

source: [x]

i highlighted the criteria that do apply to gale in one way or another in a pretty purple.

i personally believe that it’s rather harmful to equate his relationship with mystra with her being “his fp”. she is a deity, his goddess, and the source of his powers, who is in in full control of the magic he wields.

gale: mystra commands all magic. salvation, if such a thing exists, is hers to bestow or withhold.

gale has been effectively groomed and conditioned to serve and revere her at every turn since early childhood. imo this comparison really undermines a lot of crucial points in gale’s story that deal with his overall trauma and abuse. after all, you wouldn’t call shar sh*dowhe*rt’s fp either.

gale doesn’t revile mystra, nor does he commit benevolent deeds solely motivated by the secret hope that she will somehow notice and take him back. when you meet gale in the game he has already fully come to terms with the fact that he has been abandoned by mystra with no hope of reconciliation whatsoever. he also had some very fitting lines in ea regarding this topic that i'm sad haven't been repurposed in the full release in some way.

gale: [the tadpoles] don't know that some things are impossible. they don't know that... they don't know. player: what is impossible about what you're being shown? gale: forgiveness. gale: it is mystra i see. and yet it cannot be her. there was a time when i would have believed - but no longer. gale: suffice it to say she would not bestow upon me the favors promised in these dreams. that is how i know they are delusions.

he has already reached the stage of acceptance. moreover, gale only starts to realize that mystra might have been in the wrong for requesting his death once the tadpole squad & tav speak some sense into him. and even then he doesn’t ever show that his emotions regarding mystra are anywhere along those lines. he is instead rightfully angered that she only saw value in his death, after he had been worshipping her loyally for years.

gale: i worshipped mystra loyally for years, and in that time she granted me the barest sliver of the power i was ready to wield. gale: even with the fate of the world at stake, she had little more to offer me than the means of blowing myself up at a more convenient time. she's done nothing to help us.

gale: you abandoned me in my hour of greatest need. i had no obligation to help you in yours. gale: because you had no right to ask that of me. you cast me out, remember?

gale doesn’t display rapid changes in mood either. he is a character who is generally very composed and has been known to remain nonchalant even in the face of utter horror. tim downie himself even commented on this once. source: [x]

the only instance i can think of is his sudden switch from resigned-to-death to utter-eye-sparkling-enthusiasm once he spots the crown of karsus. apart from crucial story reasons that i won’t touch upon in this post, i’d also like to add that it’s a rather common phenomenon for people who have just barely survived a suicide attempt to suddenly be filled with zeal and unbridled energy. he doesn't display impulsivity without thorough consideration when it comes to its acquisition either. he considers this a golden opportunity and is positively enthusiastic and elated that this might prove an alternative to him ending up in a cloud of netherese smoke. nonetheless, he knows what he is doing. evident in him actually succeeding in ascending in one of his endings.

gale: this is no passing whim, trust me. if i can obtain that crown, it will affect us all. it is not a decision i'll take lightly. gale: it's our future that i'm thinking of - we can't rely on anyone else to do it for us. gale: for now - we've learned all we can.

neither are his relationships that we do know of (namely elminster, tara, and morena) frequently changing. they are marked by years of mutual respect, care, and consistency. there is nothing unstable about them. while it's important to note that his relationship with tav is still in its honeymoon stages during the main game, there is no inclination of any push-and-pull dynamic between them whatsoever.

gale isn’t preoccupied with keeping up some sort of benevolent act in order to win (back) affection — he genuinely IS a good person and he proves this at every turn. moreover, to have a tressym become your familiar you must be of Good alignment.

(taken from tumblr user galedekarios's post.)

there is never a moment where his ideals or alignment suddenly change. in fact, i’d argue that he and wyll are most consistent in this regard when compared to the rest of the companions. gale makes his moral standpoint very clear from the beginning on and also explicitly states that he believes that in order to survive this entire ordeal it would be selfish of him if he wouldn’t be willing to compromise on his morals. this isn’t a sudden bout of ✨muahahaha wizard hubris✨ that he barely contained to hold in before, this is yet another act of selflessness — it is what he’s willing to do for the group and subsequently, the welfare of faerun.

player: i love unsavoury things. don't feel guilty on my account. gale: that's good to know. although i should say i do what i do out of a sense of utility and pragmatism, not a love of the unsavoury. gale: we're up against the greatest threat faerun has ever faced. i don't mind getting my hands dirty if it gives us a better chance of surviving. gale: whatever advantage i can gain for us. i will. and i refuse to feel guilty for it, no matter how much mystra's chidings might echo in my skull.

this is him, once again trying to be useful in whatever way he can. to give them an advantage, a slither of hope against seemingly impossible odds, so they might make it out of this in one piece. gale wouldn’t approve of those actions under normal circumstances, but their predicament is as far from any definition of “normal” as it can get.

gale is no fool, he realizes this is essentially about survival. he knows that he has no option left other than to tolerate, which is why he can be convinced to not immediately depart tav’s company even if they choose to commit atrocities. this is no character flaw of his or him displaying a previously dormant openness for cruelty, this is about recognizing the necessity.

player: you don't stand a chance alone. you're free to go. i dare you. gale: gods damn you - you're right. few things are more powerful than the will to live.

gale: i thought the orb to be the greatest of my sins, but i see now that there are darker depths to which i might yet sink. you may be content to sink into that abyss, but i assure you - i am not.

gale doesn’t lead a split existence. he has a very strong sense of identity. he knows what he wants, what he doesn’t want and he isn’t shy in expressing his boundaries either. which he has especially shown when it comes to his relationship with tav. i originally had intended to touch upon this in another post entirely but: i firmly believe his entire Gale of Waterdeep™ persona is more of a performance than him struggling to find a sense of identity and trying them on for size. it is an intentional decision to separate gale dekarios from the great wizard of waterdeep, to create distance and make sure his family name remains untarnished in case things should ever go sideways.

gale: i agree. and on the plus side, if i get myself into any truly cataclysmic straits during the remainder of our journey, my family name will go untarnished.

there is also a deep-rooted feeling of unworthiness and his firm belief that love and praise are conditional resources that he will only be granted through his talents alone, naturally. presenting himself as gale dekarios, the man, would mean highlighting his shortcomings and very human flaws, while distracting from the aspects of himself that are deemed praiseworthy, the ones that actually matter: his magical prowess.

i personally believe that part of the beauty of gale’s story is him realizing just how “little” it takes for him to be truly content. he gets his happy ending, with someone at his side who truly sees him, understands him and unabashedly commits to him. they worship and adore him in return — and it is well deserved. he isn’t reduced to be constantly and restlessly searching for some unattainable ideal to fill the gaping void within himself. he doesn’t secretly thirst for more power still or believes that in being with tav he is settling for something. instead, he is finally happy to just be. be and be accepted. teaching a class of unruly wizards and coming home to his spouse each day already fulfills him.

gale: that's how i feel with you - content. it's a rather unfamiliar feeling, i must say. not something gale of waterdeep ever craved.

even if he doesn’t pursue a romance with tav, he reaches a realization of “oh, it appears i am not irredeemably flawed and only able to reach true redemption through my own death. what i needed was actually with me all along.” throughout their journey and through his friend's support. i think that’s a very powerful and comforting message. he is very well capable of finding peace within himself.

devnotes: his default state is that he returned to waterdeep and became a professor of illusory magic at his former school, blackstaff academy. general vibe here is that this is a gale who's found peace with himself - he's a great teacher, one his students are mostly in awe of.

to repeat myself: sharing your headcanons is all in good fun, nor should you ever be discouraged from doing so. this is your personal tumblr experience, after all. but i personally think we should be mindful of unintentionally perpetuating negative stereotypes, such as narcissism being a general indicator or being deemed a classic depiction of bpd. i think we can all agree that the continuous longing for acceptance, connection, praise, and approval is something we all have in common deep down, regardless of whatever disorder we may have. [insert victoria justice meme here]

gale may be many things to many people, but he is no entitled narcissist.

[muirmarie]

Me: I joke about writing the same McCoy centric story over and over again in different ways

Me: and like. I love doing it and imma keep doing it because it makes me happy.

Me: but also. I do sometimes wonder if it's like. A little Much.

Me: like maybe I should branch out or something

Me: [reads another fundamental and extremely insulting misread of McCoy's character by someone who is clearly making a Choice to cast McCoy as the villain, because they have to get him out of the way of spirk, because they're too???? idk immature??? to realize that even when you're in a relationship with one person, other ppl can and SHOULD still be important to you]

Me: lmao I hope I AM too much actually!!!! I hope it is 100% obnoxious how much I love that doctor!!!!! Time to write more versions of the same story of McCoy being forced to realize that he is loved and cared for!!!!!!

Me: I KNOW MY NICHE AND IMMA DIE IN THAT NICHE, THANKS

[miodiodavinci]

im being so so brave but also i am gripping you by the shoulders and leaning in and letting you know i am so tired of being brave

[skitskatdacat63]

2009 Brazilian Grand Prix - Jenson Button

[notebookmusical]

you’d think taylor is a fucking dictator with the way people are crucified online for voicing anything other than a wholly positive opinion about her, holy fuck u guys

my notifs are a mess right now 😭 which is unsurprising but still 😭 i think that this is in part due to, how much misogyny was linked to taylor's career, liking taylor, etc. back in the day which then became this like "us vs them" mentality, that led to so many people believing that either you like taylor wholeheartedly or you don't; there's no in between. there's this weird like, superiority contest with who is the bigger or better fan — which i do think, is in part, linked to secret sessions, taylor nation notices (and formerly, notices from taylor herself), any criticism makes you a bad fan! and then there's also the way taylor herself responds to criticism. it's easy to be defensive of things you love and i think a lot of people also think that any criticism of the things they love reflects on themselves as well — just overwhelmingly more so with taylor swift. i think it's important to be critical of things you love (especially of the things that you love), and taylor is no exception. obviously i loved her and her music. obviously i want her to be better. that's why i'm frustrated and hurt and disappointed in a way that i wouldn't be if i hadn't spent eighteen years loving her and her music. i wish people would understand that i'm not just being a # hater or being # cynical.

[mirrortouchedsea]

dark. that was all he had ever known. cold, dark, damp. the boy shivers in the small room, painfully alone, only a book and his magic to keep him company. he tries not to use his magic very often, though. it seemed that the people above knew when he used it and they always always always refused to give him food until he “woke up” next, if they bothered to keep track of that. maybe this time he’ll learn their lesson. the boy whispers his spell, cur memini, and creates a small light in his fingers. this is the only spell he can cast safely, too small to be noticeable by the people above. he holds his hand over the fading book on the floor. the boy can’t read the letters on the page, but this book has pictures. he flips through it again, careful of the pages that were falling apart, admiring the figure in armor who always comes to rescue the figure in the tower, cut off from the world, just like him. the boy frequently dreams of a figure in armor coming to save him, despite the years he has spent alone. dark and cold and damp. 

the room the boy lives in, the only room he has memories of, is empty besides himself and the book. sometimes the people above would give him water and stale bread to eat, and then there was a cup and a dirty plate, but otherwise it was just the boy and the book. the boy knows why the people above have locked him away, they told him that he was a freak of nature, unnatural, dangerous. but the boy could only make lights in his palm, and that wasn’t very dangerous at all. he thinks to himself that the people above are the dangerous ones, locking away a child for something like this, but he can’t say that out loud. he doesn’t want to die again. 

the boy’s stomach grumbles and he curls in on himself, the light in his palm fades out. he longs to see the sun again, to play with the other children he can hear through the ceiling, to be normal. the people above must have decided to punish him again, though, as he doesn’t remember the last time he had anything to drink, to eat. his stomach would eat through his skin and he would still wake up the next day. why can’t he just die once and for all and be rid of the pain? why is the world keeping him here? why was he even born?

the boy closes his eyes, and falls asleep. maybe this time it won’t hurt so much. 

--- 

how long has he been here? the boy doesn’t keep track of time. he knows he’s died at least a dozen times, but how long does it take for a dozen lifetimes to pass? 

--- 

a clattering on the floor wakes the boy up. the people above decided he can eat today. stale bread and water again, but better than nothing to the boy. he crawls closer to it, listening to the door. it closes and the voices disappear. where was the sound of the lock? did they forget? 

the boy scarfs down his food and water before tiptoeing up the stairs. he doesn’t hear any voices, but he needs to be careful. he doesn’t remember what the above looks like, but he needs to leave. he needs to be free. 

slowly, quietly, he opens the door. it’s dark on the other side of it, but still much, much brighter than his room ever was. he closes his eyes but keeps the door open. breathe in, and out. opens his eyes again, blinking the brightness away. pushes the door further open. steps on the hard ground outside the door. he’s so close. closes the door quietly. turns around and holds his breath. where was outside? pick a direction and go. his legs hurt. turn the corner, listen for voices. voices are dangerous, get away from the voices. whisper his spell, create a small light. keep moving keep moving keep moving. window ahead. break it? open it? is he strong enough? lift the window up. too weak. voices coming. hurry hurry hurry must get out now. whisper spell again, hand on window. break the glass and jump through it. cuts on feet cuts on legs deal with that later. voices getting louder voices shouting. run run RUN. 

the boy runs away from the building, away from his room. freedom is so close. first get to the trees, then… he hasn’t thought that far, but he will find a way. gunshots from the house. he runs faster, must get to the trees, must hide, must be free. cur memini, he whispers again, crossing into the forest. his spell can make lights and now break windows, but he needs it to protect him at this moment. run run run until the voices are quiet again. his legs are giving out, but he needs to run. he can’t die now or they’ll find him. keep running. bare feet on sticks and stones and sharp things, everything hurts but he can’t stop. he keeps running until the sun comes up. his heart beats out of his chest. 

--- 

when he wakes up he doesn’t know how much time has passed. his heart beats fast and he sits up. did they find him? he looks around. trees, rocks, a gurgling stream. he’s free. he’s free. he sighs and lays back down. how far did he run? he needs to go further. away from other people, away from anyone who might lock him up again. he sits up again and forces himself to stand and walk towards the sound of the stream. he can start there. water is important, and he might be able to get food from the little stream too. 

his first drink of the stream water is icy cold, quenching his lifelong thirst in just a few swallows. he washes his face with it, removing years of sweat and grime. he wants to sit by the stream forever if only he could, but the people will find him eventually if he doesn’t keep moving. but he allows himself a few minutes to bathe in the water, savoring the feeling of water on his skin. his stomach still growls, wanting something more filling than the freezing water of the stream, but that would have to wait. he needs to get his bearings. 

the light of the outside world is almost blinding, he realizes. the sun and the snow made it almost impossible to see anything. he should get up above the trees. can he even do that? cur memini, he says, trying to get his voice to be louder than a whisper. his feet float a few inches above the ground. he closes his eyes and says his spell again with more conviction. Cur Memini. he feels himself shooting into the air before he opens his eyes. he can see the forest stretch out for miles around him. trees covered in snow in every direction. if the old house is behind him, he should fly straight ahead, towards the forests on the mountains. tentatively, he leans forward and focuses his magic on keeping himself afloat. 

it doesn’t take much to exhaust what little magic he has, but he’s put more distance between himself and the old house and the people above now. he should be safe to rest, truly rest. but first he should find something to eat. is there anything to eat out here? something in his head tells him to look a little closer to the ground. to his left. there’s a bush full of berries. he’s never had anything but stale bread, and doesn’t know what to expect as he crushes one with his teeth. 

the sensation overtakes him for a brief moment. the berry is sweet, yet tart, and delicious. it’s the best thing he’s ever eaten and he thanks the little voice in his head for the information as he picks several more berries from the bush. the juice runs down his chin and makes him sticky, but it feels good. he feels truly alive for the first time. 

once he’s finished picking the bush clean of its fruits, he needs to find a place to rest, to stay warm. he’s shivering in the intense cold of the north, but it’s nothing he isn’t used to. the room was never very warm after all. he listens to the little voices calling out to him, guiding him towards a small cave, instructing him on how to make a small fire to warm himself up. a small rabbit brushes against his leg and he swears one of the voices is coming from it. and with the fire going, he thanks the rabbit before it hops away back into the snow. he would be roasting that same rabbit over the fire a few months later. 

the boy can’t stay in the cave forever though. as days turn to weeks turn to months, he worries that the people above are getting closer to him. they’ll put him back in that cold, dark, damp room again. he needs to keep moving. he has been practicing his magic, casting stronger spells, and he needs to be ready to fly. it's been long enough. cur memini he says holding his hand out. a rough stick with twigs tied to the end flies into his hand. it’s a poor excuse for what he understands is a broom, but it will work. he climbs onto it and focuses. cur memini cur memini cur memini. he lifts off the ground and watches as the branches of the trees get shorter and eventually he passes above the treetops. 

he takes a moment to gather his bearings. he no longer remembers the direction the house was in, but going up is his best bet of staying away from the people above. he laughs, realizing that he is the one above them now. after a moment, he flies into the mountains. the small voices change into bigger, unfamiliar ones as he gets further into the mountain range. they tell him to hide, to stay away. he doesn’t listen. they cannot be more dangerous than the humans he is running from. 

the boy lands, still exhausted from using so much magic, but he was able to travel further this time. that has to count for something, surely. he gathers some sticks and looks for another cave to make his home in. the caves remind him too much of the room he left, so he chooses to stay close to the entrance, close to the light that reminds him he is free. the fire keeps the animals away, but the voices are curious about the new presence in their woods. they make him curious too. he should stay in the cave tonight though and regain his energy. maybe he can get some small game to fill his stomach before settling in for the night. he listens for a rabbit’s voice, or maybe a squirrel, anything that would be small enough to kill with his hands. 

at last, a small fox’s voice is heard nearby. he wonders if fox will taste different from the other game he’s eaten thus far. he lifts a hand-sized rock and slinks out of the cave towards the voice. it takes a few minutes to find the source, but the fox is curled under a tree, shivering, hungry, just like him. the boy hesitates before bludgeoning it and slinging the corpse over his shoulders. there are more foxes. he is much more important. 

the fox is only the first animal he hunts in those mountainous woods. he spends several years in that forest and eventually humans settle up there as well. the boy, or rather, the man now, has made a name for himself amongst the human populations of the north. he is no longer afraid of humans capturing him and locking him up. they are still terrified of him, but now he is in control of that terror. the hunters that left his territory alive whispered tales of the great wizard owen who inhabited the mountains and terrorized anyone who had the bad luck of running into him. 

all of this is perfectly fine with owen. eventually his reputation will grow beyond himself, encapsulating atrocities that were impossible for even someone as strong as oz to commit, but that would be a problem for future owen. for now, he is still young and living in his cave on the outskirts of a small village and scaring hunters who stray too far from their boundaries. the wolves don’t like these visitors either and gladly listen to owen’s lamentations. it keeps his hands clean of the bloodshed if he isn’t casting the spell himself. the wolves don’t care for owen either, but they respect him. and that is enough for owen. 

the first of the unwanted visitors was a young man, someone who wanted to provide for his family. he pleaded with owen and the wolves to let him go and he wouldn’t cause any problems. those pleas fell on deaf ears though as owen looked the man in the eyes. won’t your family be disappointed, he asked almost innocently, you don’t have anything to show for your efforts. the man stammered a response, they’d rather i come back alive with nothing than die trying to find food. is that so, owen reached out for the man’s chin, the distance between their faces was almost nothing. y-yes, sir, please just let me go and i won’t bother you anymore. owen grinned. oh i’m sure you won’t be causing us any trouble again. the wolves stalked out of the woods, drooling at the prospect of tearing a piece of that man for themselves. owen snapped his fingers, and they came running forward, only to stop mere inches from the now trembling man. there was a suspicious yellow stain in the snow beneath him. p-p-please sir, anything you ask, it’s yours! then make sure you tell the rest of your little village that this forest belongs to the great wizard owen. the man ran off, leaving behind a hunting rifle and a ratty sack. the rifle would be of use, but the sack became tinder for his fires. 

despite the warning from that first man, hunters continued to enter into owen’s territory. and one after the other, they ran off screaming with their tails between their legs. this should have annoyed owen, that people would ignore all of the warnings and stories that had started popping up about him, but it doesn’t. their fear feeds into his magic power, only making him stronger, and that is all fine with owen. he is no longer a weak child locked in the damp, dark basement, and he never will be again. 

[art--harridan]

[Image description: A digital drawing of Amanda Young from the Saw franchise. She's wearing her outfit from the third film, but has her hair from the first. She's wearing the reverse bear trap, which leaves only the top half of her face visible. Her eyes are open wide and staring directly at the viewer. Eyeliner runs down her cheeks. In one hand she holds overflowing needles which are falling from her loose grasp. In the other she has a tape recorder. Her arms are stiff, as if she's a posed mannequin. Bandages are wrapped around both of her wrists. These bandages, the tape recorder, the needles and the reverse bear trap are all coloured a bold light blue. Amanda is coloured bright white with grey shading, while the background is a darker grey. It also has a subtle spiral pattern to it.]

[goldyluna]

Revenge ask (like revenge boop) I know you have already talked about yttd AUs, so maybe you could tell something about your OC(s) too? (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

Yasss, hell yeah I will. The problem is I don't know which one to pick... So I will probably write about them all (with some fragments that I wrote years ago).

But I will tell you first about the world my ocs live in. My universe is named The Beginning of The End (cliche but it stuck). This world is full of magic, superstitions and prejudice. But it is also beautiful in some ways. Woods filled with life, people with good intentions, spirits showing the way. Unfortunately, the story starts with death. Five of them exactly.

✮

Let's now meet our main characters:

Golden Rose – she is a beautiful medium with crazy mind. She can see the ghosts and do favors for them. She tragically lost her parents and had to live in an orphanage. Her only friend was a kid ghost, Boo, that never takes off his ghost sheet. Rose can let the ghost possess her, but if she lets them stay too long, the connection to the ghost world starts getting bigger and bigger, letting in the evil spirits and making it harder to close the connection. A lot of people died the day she first lost control. Desperation and guilt push her to drastic measures filled with water and flowers.

Tear – a Dark Empath. He was cursed even before he was born, because his grandparents angered the wrong people. He feels the emotions of other people, but without them he is an empty shell. People from his village shunned him and all he can feel from them is hate and distrust. Empaths are common, but the evil ones are called Dark. They like to take emotions from other people to leave them empty like dolls. People think Tear is one of them so the only positive emotions directed at him are from his mother and sister that likes giving him cute accessories. If Tear ever was close to feeling any of his emotions, it was love for his family. But curiosity killed the cat. He read that people choose suicide as a way to feel. So what's a better way to check it out than trying to fly?

The Seer - not a lot is known about her. Her age, name and story is a mystery. People say she is untouchable, no man ever got to kiss or to touch her, that usually angered them. The Seer got her name because she draws and paints the future. The hands and magic guide her so she isn't really aware during the process. The Seer lives in a dark, magical forest, full of creatures. She also specializes in dark magic. It is a shame the magic she loves so much can also hurt her so fatally.

Elijah – demon spawn, a creature of hate. Contrary to the title, he was born from love. It was the people fearing everything that looked different that wanted him gone. His life was mostly peaceful, living in the forest with his "aunt" so he doesn't bring danger to his parents. Unfortunately, hunters don't know when to stop looking.

Raven – he can heal anyone with just a touch. He is a talented medic too, even if he isn't using his powers. His parents are ritch and wants him to be a doctor, but don't accept him. They still call him his daughter, even after transitioning, as they think it is just a phase. He still loves his family and would do everything for them. So he heals and heals and works hard. But everything has the price. Wound for wound, life for life. The recompensation must be the similar weight as nothing happens without a reason. Raven has a chance to see it himself one day.

★

Like I said, it all begins with death. But that is the real beginning of this story. Let's see one together!

✮

How funny is it that ghosts judge less than living people? Thought the Golden Rose on her deathbed. This bed was hot water in a bathtub covered with rose petals. There were tall candles burning brightly around them and next to them were smoking incense sticks with the scent of summer flowers. It could have been a romantic sight if the girl didn't know that the water was about to turn red. Her naked body ached and shivered from the cold, even submerged in burning water. The ghost hands were holding onto her hours after tragedy. Ghosts are nicer than living people, ghosts teach me new things, Róża continued in mind. It wouldn't be that bad to become one of them. She ignored the voice in her head telling her that ghosts can be as vicious as living people. "Are you sure you want to do this?" the voice asked, waking her up from her thoughts. Next to the bathtub was a young boy standing. His face and most of his body were covered with a white sheet. He looked like a ghost from cartoons Rose watched on TV when she was little. His voice was full of sadness but also understanding. After all, he was a big part of her life with her, so he knew what she went through. If he were alive, he would shiver only thinking about it. "Yes." A blade shined beautifully in orange and red flames. A hint to what will happen next. "Okay then. It's time to say hello to the Grim Reaper."

✮

But wow, that's how the story starts and Golden Rose is the main character! It doesn't mean she didn't die. But if they die now, it will be forever.

So maybe let's go to one of the first interactions of our main casts!

✮

A girl with strange eyes and goat-like horns looked at them in disbelief. "Why are you so calm!? So... relaxed? Shouldn't you be at least a little scared? After all, you have lost your chance for a normal life! And you... You sit and drink tea as if nothing happened?!" The nameless girl shouted, losing control of herself. Tear felt her confusion and anger. He decided that she was one of those people who didn't like not knowing what was going on. As if her hands and eyes were tied, sitting in the dark. Poor girl. "What normal life?" asked Rose. Her voice soft and lacking the usual edge, as Lucifer had fallen asleep in her lap fifteen minutes ago and she didn't have the heart to move him. "In my normal life, I killed myself. Just like everyone else here." The medium stopped petting the cat to messily gesture at everyone present in the room before going back to petting. Lucifer purred loudly, making her smile for a second. "This whole school is a fucking graveyard of the walking dead. Aren't you one of them, dolly?" "I- of course, but-" "Plus, I've seen stranger things," The Seer interjected. She had already drank her own tea and was staring at the grounds at the bottom. She had to say the future looked interesting. "You try living in the swamps. I'll finally sleep in a regular bed and talk to someone other than my old books. After so many years of knowing each other, they have little to say."

"...And everything tells me that life with you all will not be boring."

✮

That... went well? Our group of misfits is weird but normal is booooring!

And even misfits deserve some love and family. People that will do everything for each other, even the craziest things...

✮

Golden Rose suddenly stopped and turned her head towards the nymph. There was a strange gleam in her eyes and her lips curved into a smile. However, it was a bit too wide and too sharp to be friendly. The make-up completed the image of a cruel jester. "Why shouldn't I kill you, hmm?" she asked in a sweet voice. Too sweet to be genuine. Suddenly her smile dropped and her face became completely blank. "You know... I've always been a fan of Shakespeare's works. Hamlet was my idol, he made pretending to be mad so easy. So I tried it myself and I have to tell you... I was great at it. But now I'm not sure if I'm still pretending." A dark laugh echoed and bounced off the stone walls. Nymph shivered with cold and fear. In the semi-darkness of the corridor, Rose's eyes glowed dangerously. The medium turned completely towards her prey and a knife in her hands looked unnaturally sharp. He hadn't been there before, but the sea girl wasn't going to ask where it came from. Despite her earlier words, she had no intention of dying today. Permanently this time. "Remember, don't play with me and what is mine. Then you won't have to worry about the Fool and his madness... Got it?" "Y-yes," tears welled up in her eyes, her shoulders were shaking. "Good girl," Rose almost purred, looking the nymph straight in the eyes. She brought the knife to her cheek gently, but still blue blood escaped down the blade. "Hmmm, if you weren't such a bitch, you'd be quite pretty. With tears on your face, blood and a look of complete devastation. I would like to destroy you. More." And suddenly the feeling of cold metal disappeared from her cheek and she took a breath, not knowing she had been holding it. The medium was nowhere in sight, but she still felt as if she was surrounded by the undead. Shaking herself, she started running towards her dorms, promising herself that she would avoid the newest group. It's full of freaks.

✮

So that's that! I gave myself a hard job talking about all characters, but well. I love them all. I hope it was interesting to read at least!

[youredreamingofroo]

εїз Stardew Valley Profile εїз ʚ- Roo Norman -ɞ

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Made by : @bigeyedkitteh ( Profile maker ) Portraits from : Slightly Edited Portraits by Poltergeister Duck and Chicken icons from : Elle's Cuter Coop Animals by Elle/Uploaded by junimods

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(Just a fair warning, this got a LOTTTT longer than I expected it to 😭)

Because I got a little too invested in this, I'm gonna lengthily elaborate on most parts of the profile, enjoy :)

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Pequeño and Gräddkanna/Grädde

Pequeño is a 3 year old Mallard Duck. As a duckling, Pequeño lived with Marnie on her Ranch for a couple of weeks, Marnie was convinced he wouldn't live to see the next week, at this point, as he was scrawny and very obviously a runt compared to the rest of brood. In this same week, Roo was looking for another feathery friend to occupy his space with him and ended up visiting Marnie, and upon seeing the scrawny duckling, he asked Marnie if he could take him in, she warned him, but he was persistent- He left that Ranch with a duckling who could barely hold his own. It's taken three years of strenuous work to keep Pequeño well, but Roo didn't give up and now, at three years old, Pequeño is alive and, although he struggles from time to time, he is well and very happy. Roo calls him Pequeño because it means little, and Pequeño is a very little duck- Pequeño is also one of the only words Roo knows in Spanish. (Pequeño is also a reference to a tame I had in ARK LMAO)

Gräddkanna, or Grädde, is a 6 year old Cream colored Silkie Chicken. Roo has had Grädde for 4 years, like Pequeño, She was taken in from Marnie, although Grädde was in much better condition than Pequeño upon being adopted. Roo never considered himself to be a bird lover, and especially never considered himself to be a bird owner, but it was like love at first sight when he saw Grädde meandering Marnie's Ranch- So Roo began indirectly asking Marnie if Grädde (or Mila, as Marnie had originally named her) was available to buy, she said that Mila/Grädde was there to stay on her Ranch, but it was the saddened look in his eyes when he was exiting that had Marnie begin to reconsider her choice, and Roo left her place empty-handed. A week later, Marnie showed up at Roo's door, early in the morning with a Silkie chicken being cuddled in her arms, she knocked and was met with a rather grumpy Roo, however he lightened up when he saw Mila in Marnie's arms, She offered him Mila for a low price (15 dollars), while she was willing to give up Mila, she wasn't going to give up Mila for nothing- He happily paid Marnie and took Mila, now Grädde, in his arms. Grädde co-parented with Roo to raise Pequeño, Grädde was very happy and eager to take Pequeño under her wing (pun intended), and so she did. Grädde and Pequeño are now best friends and sometimes you'll see Pequeño hitching a ride on Grädde's back, this is more commonly seen when Roo is wandering the town and he isn't actively carrying Pequeño, he [Pequeño] does this mainly because he is too weak to walk for long and has to rest, and Grädde is just strong enough to carry around Pequeño for a moderate amount of time. Gräddkanna means Creamer and Grädde means Cream in Swedish, Roo named/nicknamed her that because of her Cream feathers and because the texture of her feathers reminds Roo of Cream.

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Roo Facts 1-5

- ♪ "Tends to wander town with Grädde and Pequeño" Roo loves his birds, and equally loves wandering as much as he does his birds, so during the day (during any season except Summer), you'll often find Roo wandering about in town or in the forest with Grädde and Pequeño, there's a couple different wandering variations, the most common being him carrying Pequeño with Grädde following suit, an uncommon variant will be of, as mentioned earlier, Pequeño on Grädde's back, and a rarer variant that will only occur later on during your playthrough (around year 2, and progressively becomes more common beyond year 2), is of Roo with only Grädde or Pequeño, this is due to Pequeño's condition and age and Grädde's age, Roo will only carry one of his two birds, as the birds age, Grädde becomes weaker and unable to walk as much and unable to carry Pequeño as long as she used to. As for Pequeño, he is unable to stay out for long at this point, meaning Roo has to leave him at home so he can stay warm, leaving Roo to carry Grädde around town (and vice versa, depending on how Grädde is doing). Another rare variant that only occurs VERY late in the playthrough (around year 4-5+, becomes more common in later years beyond year 6) is of Roo by himself- as mentioned, his birds are old at this point, and around year 4-6, they are too old to be able to even travel with Roo, this variant contains the least amount of dialogue lines from Roo and is the variant where most times, you will not be able to talk to him, due to him being sad about not having his birds (I did not want to include pet death in his story, so Roo's birds do live, however any year after year 6-8 will only include his last wandering variant)

- ♪ "He hates Summer, so most of his summer schedule is spent in his home" It's as the fact states, Roo hates the Summer and thus doesn't leave his home much for most of the day. You're more likely to see him wander around around sunset, as it's cooler and isn't nighttime where his birds won't get lost. Due to this, it is significantly harder to befriend and/or romance Roo during this season- it's still possible, just a bit frustrating/difficult to do so. To get a brief/broader look at his schedule during the summer, here's a time chart of his weekly summer schedule:

Mon-Thurs, Sat : [ 9:00 AM: Waking up [ 10:00 AM: Tending to his birds [ 12:00 PM - 4:00 PM: Hanging out around his home with his birds, awaiting sunset [ 4:30 PM - 5:30 PM: Nap [ 6:00 PM - 8:00 PM: Town wandering with his birds (or without, depending on the year)

Fri : [ 10:00 AM: Waking up [ 11:00 AM: Tending to his birds [ 1:00 PM - 4:00 PM: Cleaning house [ 4:30 PM - 5:30 PM: Nap [ 6:00 PM - 8:00 PM: Town wandering with his birds (or without, depending on the year)

Sun : [ 11:00 AM: Waking up [ 12:00 PM: Tending to his birds [ 2:00 PM - 3:00 PM: More house cleaning [ 3:30 PM - 4:30 PM: Hanging out around his home with his birds, awaiting sunset [ 5:00 - 5:30 PM: Nap [ 6:00 PM - 8:00 PM: Town wandering with his birds (or without, depending on the year)

- ♪ "Used to date Leo until he [Leo] moved to Zuzu City" Leo and Roo briefly dated/were friends with benefits (it was complicated), Leo was new to Pelican Town, and it didn't take long for him and Roo to hit it off, however, Leo did not fancy the small farm/town life, and left a couple of months later for Zuzu city, officially cutting it off with Roo. This took place before Roo got his birds and when he was also new to Pelican Town (albeit, not as new as Leo)

- ♪ "He resides in Cindersap Forest" Roo technically lives in Cindersap Forest, he lives in the forest gap between Cindersap Forest/Marnie's Ranch and 1 Willow Lane (Sam's house), i'm sure ya'll know what I mean, but here's where he is on the map (for all my visualizer homies out there):

Roo's home is unavailable during the very beginning of a playthrough, and you cannot meet him properly until the Flower Dance. It IS possible to meet him during the Egg Festival, however he is off to the side somewhere beyond the bar, over by Dusty- At this point, Roo won't really talk to you, and will only say "Hello." before going back to watching the festival from afar, this will not count as meeting him. Going back to the Flower Dance, he is found standing awkwardly off to the side by Elliott and Leah, you can talk to him, and he'll, like before, say "Hello." and this will count as meeting him, and you will see him around town from here on out. After meeting Roo, two new areas will be introduced, when going between Cindersap and Pelican town, you will instead go to a small threeway intersection instead of going directly to and fro- going upwards will take you to another small area which is where Roo's home is. I don't have an exact image of what his home looks like right now, but just know it does have a little fenced off area for his birds, and the inside of his home is pretty duck/chicken-proofed. Roo's home cannot be entered until you get 2 hearts with him, and after reaching 2 hearts and entering his home, you will have to further your relationship with him (4 hearts) to be able to enter his bedroom.

- ♪ "Roo rarely visits Calico Desert, but when he does, him and Sandy chat up a storm" Perhaps one of the biggest surprise facts LMAO Him and Sandy are really good friends, unfortunately he doesn't visit a lot cause he hates the warmth of the Desert, but he does occasionally visit her, and their vibes actually compliment each other well and they like to chat and even sometimes gossip between each other (although Roo doesn't like to gossip a lot so it's moreso them just chatting).

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Favorite Thing

I just wanted to briefly elaborate on this one, but it's kind of two things (ofc I couldn't put two), Leo is his favorite thing/person, but since Leo has left and since Roo has... mostly... moved on, Roo's new favorite "thing" is Elliott, he's absolutely enamored with him. (It seems Roo's growing type is long hair...)

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Favorite Villagers

His absolute favorite villager is Elliott, he could marry Elliott if he could, and while Elliott does like him back, Elliott has established that he doesn't want to take their relationship further. Following Elliott (in order of most liked to least), is Sebastian, they both share a very familiar emo/grunge-y vibe... Next is Sandy, who I've talked about- Then it's Alex, who's kind of a guilty-like/crush, Roo doesn't really like some of Alex's ideals/outlooks, but he can't help but catch himself admiring Alex's face when he's near- and lastly is Harvey, Roo thinks Harvey is cute and they're good friends, but Roo is a little weirded out by the fact that Harvey's name is... well, Harvey- If you know Roo lore, you'll know that Roo's birthname is Harvey and thus why Roo getting with Harvey would be a little strange. Saying Roo doesn't like any of the aforementioned villagers isn't right, he loves all his friends (and Elliott a little moreso), however there are a couple of villagers he doesn't like... 👀

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Other Random Facts

★ Roo and Elliott, ironically enough, have the same birthday hehe

★ While Roo is romancable, his sexuality is still in place, and is the only villager/character who is only romancable to male villagers/characters/farmers. If a female character tries to romance Roo (Asking him to the flower dance, Bouquet... etc), He will reject them and their advances, you'll lose a heart with him initially and if you try again a second time, you'll lose 2 hearts and if you REALLY just cannot give it up and try again, you'll lose all your hearts with him and all his dialogue with the farmer will change (basically being distant), you can regain hearts with him, but it takes twice as long and if you do end up trying again for a FOURTH TIME, he'll reject you and will become incredibly distant to the farmer, and you will not be able to regain hearts with him.

★ Most of Roo's disliked items are items that can only be acquired during the Summer (Spice berry, Hops, etc), which goes hand in hand with his general dislike for Summer altogether- While most of his liked items are catered towards Fall items (Fairy Rose, Wild Plum, Plum Jam, etc). Even though his likes/dislikes are catered toward preferred seasons, he also has separate reasons for liking/not liking those things (not liking Hops because he doesn't like beer / liking Fairy rose because of the color)

[kyofsonder]

Brain in Daylight Hours: There is no mental or emotional space for writing. There are no new ideas, and no structure for old ideas.

Brain after Dark: Here's 38 new ideas, 3/4 of a structure, official permission to write, and -- oh. The only place to write in the dark is your phone? ... Never mind.