#rather this is how it FELT for him
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aznack · 5 days ago
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HUnter suffering (REALLY BADLY) from the rot
Body horror warning below cut
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This artwork was heavily inspired by the song Fruiting Bodies by RIProducer oh my god I forgot his tail
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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year ago
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OH SAY LESS 14 WITH ASTARION PLEASE
so this is my first time publicly writing and posting astarion, so please be gentle. higher word count solely because i felt the need to add lore because, ya know, first time writing him! also, i changed the line just a tiny bit to better fit the character and scene. ALSO, uh... this is a little fade to black. i'm sorry. it just got too long.
14. "Oh, you're hard to please."
warnings: foreplay, sorta fade to black smut (it's there if you squint your eyes), an ungodly amount of pet names, mentions of past sexual abuse and healing from it, technical game spoilers, not edited, 18+ so minors do not interact
pairings: astarion x afab!reader (no pronouns used)
wc: 4.4k+
join the smutty party! send me one of these smut dialogue prompts with a character
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How long had it been since Astarion had actually enjoyed sex? Craved it, even? 
If he recalls correctly, it had to have started to become tainted well over a century ago. Somewhere between the first and the third victim, when he’d realized how every single beautiful soul he had entrapped were simply being lured to their own death. And then, the sour taste left in his mouth only became more pungent the longer it went on, the more he came to the realization of just how used he felt. His body was no longer his own – it technically hadn’t been his from the very second he’d emerged from his own grave, and Cazador had been waiting for him – and everything about the act became an old rehearsed dance that he’d grit his teeth through. A chore, something to make his stomach churn, something to regret. A means to an end. 
Plainly put, it had been a while. 
But then you happened. You, who hadn’t blinked an eye when the first time you met him, he’d literally threatened you with a gods damned blade to your throat. You, who had repeatedly trusted him, even when it had been an objectively stupid thing to do. You, who had always offered him the utmost patience and genuine understanding, to the point in which if he thought about it too hard, he’d probably cry. You, who had led your group of misfits with brain worms right into victory, with plenty of personal demons defeated along the way. 
Personal demons including Cazador. 
Maybe that’s when things changed for Astarion. He’d already fallen for you before your group had reached Baldur’s Gate, he’d already gotten to know your body intimately before ever laying eyes on that ridiculously oversized brain you somehow made look easy to defeat. But that had been different, hadn’t it? He hadn’t really wanted to do that (not meant as an offense to you – certainly not after all was said and done), but had thought he needed to. To gain your trust, to gain your protection. And in the end, it turned out he never needed to do such a thing. You’d never said it outloud, probably at risk of making him feel even more regret after you’d learned all his secrets and darkest corners, but he knew. 
And knowing that you didn’t view him as something purely sexual, as a means to an end, as an item to use – well, it had the opposite effect of his request to no longer be viewed in that light. 
“What are you doing?” he says as he quickly looks up from his current book he’d been pursuing the moment you’d entered the room. He hardly cared for the words on the page – he just needed a way to pass the hours until you were available again. 
It was a hard habit to kick. Being so codependent on you, even with the end of the world resolved and the gift of safety being handed over to him on a silver platter. 
“We received mail,” you’re grinning wickedly as you hold up an embellished envelope, delicate fingers pinching the parchment as if it were the greatest gift to ever exist. He’d argue the real gift at hand was the last three months – time spent with you, in a place he can call home. But nothing could impede on your good mood as you throw yourself down on the mattress beside him, “From Withers, of all people!” 
His brows shoot up for just a moment before his face twists up with something akin to distrust, “Withers? What in the Hells does that sack of dust and bones wan-” 
“A reunion,” you cut him off, the look on your face warning enough against his attempt at an insult. “He’s reaching out to all of us to bring us together for a celebration, to check in on everyone, let us see each other again. Apparently, we were the easiest of the bunch to find.”
Astarion quickly lets out a tut as he snaps the book shut and discards it on the bedside table closest to him, “Well, we certainly need to fix that. Soon enough all of those little shits are going to end up on our doorstep, preaching about the power of friendship and how they want to check in on us.” 
You snort at that, laying flat on your back with your hair wildly spread out in a makeshift halo behind you. The sight causes something to stir within him, his gut twisting as he watches the way your knees knock together before slowly falling apart, your legs settling down as flat as the rest of your body.
He hadn’t taken you since that night at his grave. Before the epic final battle, before the two of you had made the decision to settle down somewhere for some well-earned peace and quiet. 
The moonlight dances past the open curtains, and his breath catches in his throat at the way the blue shadows dance across your skin. It almost reminds him of the first time he’d seen you fight. It hadn’t just been the blood splattered across your cheeks that had really gotten the better of his curiosity (even if that’s what he had told you when you asked), it had been the sunlight. Those rays of gold that had mingled with your own aura of warmth after you had helped the tieflings for the first time. 
You put the sun to shame, truly. And he missed it – Gods, did he miss it – but he was content to bask in the peace of night for a few months more before he finally cut you loose from the leash to begin your next phase of adventures to find him a cure. You had promised him you would, had already dedicated plenty of free time to research, and all you really needed was his word to begin. 
He’s selfish. The two of you can find a way for him to walk in the sun once more another day; all he wants right now is to bury himself in your warmth, to slot his body between your thighs, to hear every breathy gasp and the way you’d practically sing his name-
“Star?” you’re looking up at him from an awkward angle, eyes owlish and chin tilted painfully far back as you clearly await an answer to a question he’d been too lost in a daydream to overhear, “Did you hear me?” 
He clears his throat and adjusts the pillows behind his back, keeping him propped up as he admires you, “Of course I did, darling.” 
“Then what did I just say?”
“Something about how we’re absolutely not going to this reunion, yes?” 
Your smile is nothing but patient as you flip onto your stomach. He watches the way your shorts ride up your thighs, how the top of the soft fabric bunches at your waist. His fingers practically twitch with the need to weasel their way under it, to press his cold fingertips into warm flesh and hear you preen. 
Whenever you’re ready, you had whispered to him one night shortly after saving the world. Just tell me when, and I’m yours. 
He was ready. Insatiably ready, really. 
“Very funny. I said we should go, though. It’d be nice to see everyone again, wouldn’t it? All our friends?” 
You’re still talking about this damned reunion. Astarion has half the mind to figure out a way to summon the insufferable skeleton right here, right now, and drive a dagger into his bones until he’s truly nothing but dust. Solely for the distraction. 
“Your friends, my dear,” he corrects gently, “We both know they’re only overly fond of one of us in this relationship, and it certainly isn’t the one that they repeatedly threatened to stake.” 
The furrow of your brows is impossibly cute – he knows that look of determination. It’s the same one you wore when he mentioned it was likely that the two of you would never find a cure to his condition. 
“Our friends,” you insist, “Karlach adores you, Star. And Wyll has always been proud of you, whether he told you as much or not.”
“And what of Gale?” 
Your lips twitch at that, “Gale… certainly wouldn’t stake you on sight.”
“Ah, yes,” he flourishes, trying to keep his eyes from wandering anywhere but where your hands press into your cheeks as you prop your face up to speak to him, “Not staking me. The ultimate sign of kinship.” 
Focusing is a losing battle when you roll your eyes, and he finds his mind overtaken with insatiable lust again. Imaginative ways that he could have your eyes rolling for him under different circumstances. 
“You’re not getting out of this. They are your friends just as well as mine – so argue all you want, but we’re going to the reunion.” 
“Are you sure there’s no other way I might be able to…” he pauses with intent, finally lifting one of his docile hands to your cheek, letting his finger graze the skin with a feather light touch before it travels back into the mess of your hair, “Persuade you otherwise?” 
You almost fall for it, too. Your eyes flutter shut, your head tilts into his touch as if you were starved for the connection. But even with the lack of sexual intimacy, you both know there hasn’t been a day that has gone by in the last three months where Astarion hasn’t found a way to get his hands on you.
Holding your own, resting his cheek on your shoulder, spinning you like a child in the kitchen – he had quite the sudden arsenal of romantic gestures that didn’t involve old wounds. It had been awkward here and there, some of them landing and some of them leaving you both looking like fools, but he was trying.
Almost as hard as he was currently trying to not jump your bones. 
When you recognize the innuendo for what it is, however, you harden immediately. Your shoulders set, a frown settles, and your eyes open with set determination he knows he can’t falter without speaking plainly to you. 
“No.”
“No?”
You’re quick to lift yourself up onto your knees, putting distance between yourself and his hands, “The days of weaponizing sex are over. I don’t even want to joke about that.” 
And, oh, he’s finding himself in quite the mood tonight, because as soon as you’re retracting, he’s following. As you settle on the haunches of your calves, he’s lifting up from his reclined position, leaning forward so that his face is breaths away from yours. 
“I mean it,” you warn, narrowing your eyes and holding up a finger in that small space between you two. 
He tests his luck, wasting no time in snapping his fangs just millimeters from your skin. You both know he wouldn’t actually bite you, but it still humors him to see the way you whip your hand out of his reach. 
“Were you not the one who insisted that we ask before we bite?” you snap, and his smile only worsens. Like a cheshire cat, like a child never scorned by the world – he’s radiant and basking in the moment. 
He lets out a small hmph before saying, “You’re no fun, my dear. Come on – just play with me for a moment, won’t you?” 
Your face softens at his teasing tone, and he can see the way he’s withering away your defenses one by one. There was once a time where he’d done it with malicious intent, but this time around, it’s with nothing but good intentions. 
If you asked him, he’d go as far as to swear it on his own grave. 
“I’m sorry,” you apologize as if you’d done something wrong, and it makes more than half of his own playfulness drain from his face in absolute displeasure. Before he can so much as open his mouth to scold you about unnecessary apologies, you’re continuing on, “I just… After everything we’ve been through, it’s not something I find particularly joyous to joke about.”
What a rare thing, to have found someone to bare your soul and all your burdens to, and watch them offer to help you shoulder the weight without second thought or regret. 
He’s never met someone like you in all his years, and he might never again. 
“And if I told you I wasn’t joking?” he asks slowly, carefully, trying to choose each word with the utmost care, “I’m not weaponizing – I’m offering.” 
Whenever you’re ready. Just tell me when, and I’m yours.
He was ready. Very, desperately, sorely ready. 
The topic of the reunion is all but forgotten as you process his words, nose twitching as you decipher all that’s he laying out before you. “I want more than an offer.” 
“Excuse me?” 
He can’t help the small laugh that leaves him as he sits up properly, leaning into your space fully now with one hand pressing into the mattress just beside one of your thighs. He can feel the heat radiating from you, smell your blood rushing to your head as you try to be sensible. It’s a pitiful excuse for an internal war; all he has to do is close that conveniently small distance between your lips with his own, and you’ll have lost all sense of logic. 
“You’re…” you trail off, searching his eyes as if he holds the answer you’re currently looking for, “You’re sacred to me, Astarion. You must know that. And it will take much more than some joking offer to convince me to have sex with you when I know-”
“I’m not joking,” he’s nearly whining, letting his forehead fall forward to press to yours, “Gods, I am not joking about this. Cross my heart and hope to die again.” 
If he has to beg, he will. 
He’s spent two hundred years in an insufferable position of pure misery, pure shit, and the realization that he’s finally free has everything clicking into place. Proof of the change exists solely in the fact that he could have resorted to his tired old seduction routine from his life before to get what he wanted, but instead, he’s trying to just communicate. 
It was a novel moment. 
But he could appreciate it later, when the crotch of his pants wasn’t becoming increasingly uncomfortably tight and he wasn’t watching you closer than prey. When his stomach wasn’t so tight with desire and anticipation, just waiting for your word to indulge. 
“Do I need to beg?” he sighs, his lips brushing against yours ever so slightly from proximity. He catches the shiver that runs up your spine. “We both know I’m not particularly fond of it, but if I have to get on my knees for you- well, actually, that’s the entire point of what I’m asking.” 
You laugh at that, and his gut twists again, because it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever had the opportunity to hear. Something more breath than any vocality, something sharp and spelling out the loss of words on your tongue. 
Your silence is enough for him to push it all a step further. Forehead still leaning against yours, he properly presses his lips to yours this time, slotting them between softer than a feather’s caress. Finding home as he can physically feel himself steal your breath away. His fangs just barely nip your bottom lip, unintentionally but still eliciting a delicious reaction of a gasp that makes him graze you a second time just to feel the way you’re leaning into him more, becoming absolute putty in his hands. Pliable for his taking, and Gods, he wants to take you. 
Something snaps. 
All hesitation has vanished as he grabs at your hips quickly, making use of the way your brain has gone blank from a simple kiss in order to lay you out below him. He moves you with ease, incredible speed in slotting himself between your legs before he’s caging your entire body in with his own. The squeak that leaves your lips from his manhandling affects him even more than your gasps had, a low growl shaking his chest as he kisses you deeper. Tasting, begging, searching – he wants this, but he needs to know that you want this just as badly. 
Your hands find purchase on each of his shoulders, squeezing tightly as if needing something to tether yourself to. You pull him in closer for a second, eagerly returning the kiss, almost feverish in the way you drink him in. But the next, you’re pushing him away, a game of want and sensibility still clouding your judgment impossibly. 
You always were stubborn about things like morals. And, well, it wasn’t very moral to just jump right into sex with your traumatized boyfriend who had explicitly said not to view him in terms of sex, was it? 
It was Astarion’s own damn fault. 
He could have just acted like a normal person, initiated a normal conversation in which he renegotiated his boundaries. But you’ve been on his mind all day, and he’s long since proven since the very day that you met him that he has little to none impulse control. 
“My, my,” he murmurs, pulling back from the kiss, eyes wild, looking at you with even more hunger than he had the first night you’d given him a taste of your blood in camp, “You’re just an impossible thing to please, aren’t you? Do you want me near, do you want me far? Tell me, my love, what do you want?” 
He settles all his weight onto one of his forearms as the other slowly brings his hand to your side, caressing over the soft fabric of your shirt – a shirt he’s quickly realizing is actually his own. He recognizes those flowy sleeves, that lacing across the chest, the off-white tone that had seen better days. Given all its wear and tear, he’s almost sure that it’s one of his shirts he had grown most comfortable wearing during the nights of your adventures against the Netherbrain. 
It’s cute. A sort of domesticity that he can ponder over later, when your legs aren’t hanging on his hips and your breaths aren’t coming out staccato as he hovers just out of reach from you. 
“I want whatever you want,” you whisper. Your eyes flutter open, looking at him with pupils so dilated they could swallow him whole. 
“Let me be very clear, then,” he hums, cold fingers creeping their way to the hem of the shirt, slipping beneath with practiced ease to find the smooth skin of your hips below. They dance and skitter up, up, up until he’s brushing against your ribs, “I want you. I want that warm cunt of yours, I want to feel every gasp and breath as your walls squeeze around me. I want to fuck you until you’re unable to walk on your own two legs, until you can only remember my name. I want to watch you come undone, my dear, and for it to be my own undoing.”
Your lips quiver in anticipation, and he feels your thighs tighten their hold on him, “Such pretty words. And… and no ulterior motives? No sense of obligation?” 
“None at all,” he smiles, a predator closing in on his prey, “I’m choosing this. If you want it, if you’ll have me, then I’m ready, pet.” 
Pet. The nickname rolls off his tongue, and he can imagine your walls fluttering just as your eyes do. 
Your hands lift from his shoulders to bury in his hair instead. One cradling the back of his head, the other resting on the nape of his neck as you toy with a snowy curl. It unfurls him further, has him humming lowly as he dips down to recapture your lips and bring you into him even closer. Closer. He needs all and any space between the two of you to become nonexistent. To feel every inch of your skin pressed to his, to allow you to physically curl up into his chest just as you had his mind all those moons ago, to make a home in a room with your name on it already somewhere between his third and fourth rib. 
“Do you really have to doubt if I’ll have you, my love?” you mutter against his mouth, smile breaking the kiss momentarily before he’s back with a vengeance. You don’t care – you’re apparently in a chatty mood, dodging his kiss to get your last words in, “There’s been a space in my heart for you since the moment I first met yo-”
“Yes, yes, very romantic,” he interrupts urgently, suddenly tugging your shirt up, “But, truth be told, love? I’m hoping there’s a space between your legs for me at this moment.” 
You snort, eyes pinched shut as you attempt to shake your head at the ridiculousness of the words that just left his mouth. At any other moment, you might point out how the outrageous comment is just another defense mechanism, veering him away from having to acknowledge the gentle sentiment behind your own words, but now’s not the time. When you open your mouth, probably to say something exactly along those lines, he rolls his hips down against yours, pinning your lower half deep into the mattress. You feel just how hard he is through his trousers – it’s impossible to miss, but he’s deliberating being sure that you feel it as he lets the tips of his fangs sink into your bottom lip. 
The resolve of fighting against his wishes is quickly dissolved. One thing after another, and Astarion has you bare beneath him before any other distractions or annoying conversation can send the two of you further off track. Your, his, shirt is tossed to one side of the room. Your parents fly to the other side of the bed. Only once he has the entire spanse of your body nude and vulnerable to him does he take the time to pause, to look down at you with absolute adoration. 
“Gods, you’re beautiful.” 
He’s said those words to you a million times before. Consistently greeting you with them, muttering them in the dead of night, whispering them as he kisses you awake. But they never lose their weight. And certainly not now, as he’s looking down at you like it’s the first time he’s ever seen that freckle on your chest or the curve of your stomach barren before him. 
“Please, if you’re comfortable with it…” you start, voice laced with desperation, but he shakes his head. 
He’s full of interruptions tonight, “Consider me comfortable with anything unless stated otherwise for this moment, my sweet.” 
“Take off your clothes, Astarion.”
His giddy smile should annoy you. That smug satisfaction in finally, finally getting his way as he undresses himself at almost twice the speed that he had stripped you. And yet he knows you’re enjoying yourself just as much as he is. You’re reveling in drinking in the bare caricatures of his body, every inch and every curve exposed to you just as you are to him. And when his cool skin meets yours again, his body sinking right into that space between your thighs that you’ve granted to him, you let out a short gasp that reminds him that you want this just as badly as he does.
You’ve waited just as long as he has. 
It almost mirrors that night on his grave. The slow descent of his body against yours, the way he slides a leg up to spread your own even further for him as he crawls his way back home to your lips. Unlike that night, however, he isn’t taking quite as much care, his movements far faster and far more needy. 
He’s been waiting long enough. He’s denied himself long enough. 
It really doesn’t matter when the last time he had enjoyed sex had been, because all that he cares about is that here and now, in this moment with you, there’s not a trace of imperfections to taint his enjoyment. 
Cazador is dead. The brain has long since been defeated. You are both safe. 
As he sinks into your heat, the only thing on his mind is that contentment, overwhelmed with the feel and smell of just you. 
He’ll never be a slave again. Never be viewed as something to simply be used and disregarded again, if you have any say. And one day, some day, he’ll even feel the warmth of the sun again. Thanks to you.
But until that day, the warmth of your love is enough.
When you sigh his name out so delicately, jaw all but unhinging itself in bliss as your back arches in reaction to his touches, he knows he’s made the right choice. 
And he supposes he lied, in a way, earlier. 
You’re not that hard to please – not when it comes to him, at least. Not when it’s his hands trailing along your skin, not when it’s his lips and fangs nipping at every opportunity. And certainly not when it’s his name that’s being chanted like a prayer from your lips in time with every thrust, every stroke, every single movement with the sole purpose of making both of you come undone. 
Astarion no longer questions when the last time he enjoyed sex was in the aftermath of it all. With you, pressed into his side, sweaty forehead nuzzling his chest, the only thing he cares about is the next time he’ll be able to do so. 
“We’re still going to that reunion,” you murmur, half asleep, fading away from him quickly to fall into blissful unconsciousness. 
He almost doesn’t breathe in fear of disturbing you. He’ll waste the night away, laying here, still as a statue for your comfort. 
It’s no surprise when he refuses to put up a fight, instead his hand simply drawing soft stars across the back of your bare shoulder blades as he sighs, “Yes, dear. We will. Now sleep.”
“I love you.” 
The words tumble from your lips so carelessly, so easily and without hesitation, he nearly shakes you awake to hear them once more. Again and again, he needs to hear them, to be reassured that you feel for him as ardently as he does you. 
But he has the rest of your forever to hear them. So he lets you sleep, sending you away with a simple press of his lips to your temples as your breathing evens.
“And I love you, my dearest sun.”
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meownotgood · 2 months ago
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you give viktor a forehead kiss one time before he leaves to go to the lab and he's thinking about it all day. his whole head feels tingly. it's more difficult to focus than usual. he's still thinking about it when he gets home
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jesuis-assez · 2 months ago
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↠ Tim & Lucy ↳ 2x10 - The Dark Side
#jesuis-assez edits: chenford season 2#jesuis-assez edits: chenford#jesuis-assez edits: chenford scenes 2x10#I really didn't want to gif a single frame of Caleb. But I did want to gif this scene. So sacrifices had to be made 🤣#Absolute INSANE behavior Tim. INSANE! and yet justified given how much of a piece of sh-- Caleb turned out to be. He had creepy vibes#from the get go. It's interesting how Tim said that Lucy hesitated with Caleb.#The only hesitancy (and frustration) I detect is this conversation taking place while Tim is there and Lucy being very aware of that.#And Tim at the end handing her the paper. Lucy observing how he's acting and how quickly he shifted into protective mode. Tim standing#there with a part of him not feeling right about this whole thing & later projecting that as Lucy being the one who didn't.#He was overwhelmed by his guilt and in such anguish. Just falling apart at the thought of losing her because he gave her advice#as a friend and not as her training officer. Something awful happening to someone else. To Lucy... collecting more guilt#and piling it on top of all the other times that happened. That someone suffered because of 'his actions'#Neither Tim or Lucy saw this sadistic monster coming. And Tim may not have suspected him...#But there was something about Caleb and that interaction that had Tim stepping into that role of the fierce protector.#And Tim isn't only emitting protective energy here...🟢 * Puts a green circle there and doesn't elaborate * Yaass queen give us nothing 🤣#The green circle of jealousy and Tim is standing inside of it.#But he's also coming across as distrustful of Caleb's intentions which is not alarming as they're in the midst of the chaos#surrounding a serial killer. It's rather expected to be that way. It's how Tim said he should've known. He should've suspected him.#He's a cop. And yet he started interrogating like a cop would & as if he were a suspect. Asking for a last name. What he does for a living.#He behaved in that way for a reason. So something definitely felt off but the need to be Lucy's friend in that moment#that he encouraged her to go out with him came before his instinct to be a cop or even her T.O .#In other words... He prioritized Lucy and what he thought she needed. He shifted the focus from the case onto her by#suggesting she focus on something else. And when she was taken... that focus on her became heightened by the gravity of the situation.#+ The EYE CONTACT. Tim & Lucy having their own private moment. The silent communication between them while Caleb rambles on#in the background about something unimportant. I have so much more to say but I've reached my tag limit 🤣*whispers with feeling* f**k..
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elizabethrobertajones · 6 months ago
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Canonical bunny hug.
(I know the weather transition didn't happen like that but NG+ isn't exactly generous with the transition to switching off the zone when technically Frog was halfway through Stormblood in the first screenshots :P)
(I just wanted to make them hug tbh. I may be back when NG+ comes here for real. Lamaty'i should be here to make faces in the background while G'raha and Krile facepalm.)
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dykedvonte · 3 months ago
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Something something perhaps the reason Curly lacks a truly undamaged ID where his face is visible is to represent how much damage Jimmy had already affected on him throughout their relationship and the way Curly obscured part of who he is and what he stood to unintentionally cater to this toxic influence in his life.
#I think there is something to say that most people draw post crash curly and may not have every drawn him pre crash#and I think it says something that we only really look at the characters substantially in relation to Jimmy and not their own merits#unless we are discussing how J I M M Y mischarcterizes them cause in this#since we don’t assign a face and identify to Curly’s actions outside of Jimmy until the end their is the question of how much we are viewing#them as separate entities rather than intertwined actions cause while the flipping#of who we play at shows them and parallels and in separable in terms of the story going down#they couldn’t be drastically more different in thinking and you only really realize that at the birthday scene where Curly felt the need to#take responsibility for something while Jimmy just felt the need to take#this is also more so me thinking about all the reason people think Curly and Jimmy could be friends but they are missing the point of Jimmy#and his dynamic there is nothing severely weird or sinister about Curly or his intentions it’s that he’s well meaning to a fault#he’s an average dude having a mid life crisis and Jimmy is a guy that takes advantage of good intentions like the idea#that curly has to be like Jimmy in some way personality humor morally is the exact sort of projection Jimmy wants#to happen and does like it’s the sad and real case that sometimes people just have friends like Jimmy that they can’t cut off for one reason#or another like it’s not highly philosophical people are friends with objective assholes but it’s less about them#and more about the person feeling some obligation to stay like I feel like crafting him into#being more morally grey is to just make it easier to be angrier or think someone with more of a backbone#could of done something but it’s not even that he was spineless he was just too distracted and sometimes that feel like cowardice like even#Swansea waited it’s just the sad truth of how people avoid people like Jimmy or setting them off#sometimes it just does more harm than good I just am so bored with all the takes#acting like there was a perfect man on that ship and that any one outside of Anya knew the exact type of guy Jimmy#was from the get go like the point is other men wouldn’t in rape culture but women and their victims already know#mouthwashing#mouthwashing game#curly mouthwashing#jimmy mouthwashing#throwing rocks at Jimmy
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soulfireblue · 1 year ago
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thinking about tubbo and his relationship with leadership. how he asked forever if he could be president for a day and got added to a long list of names of people who would take over for the person before their name on the list. how he asked to be leader of soulfire and everyone was like "uh yeah sure i guess" on that first day and didn't really take it seriously.
and then fast-forward to now, he's going into purgatory 2 with a whole team behind him supporting him and his leadership. they want him to lead them again without even knowing what's to come, and they still call him coach and captain. it doesn't matter that they lost the first time. it doesn't matter that he's the youngest on the island. he's won people's respect, but more importantly, he's found a family in soulfire, and they've all found a family in each other too. it doesn't just come from a place of respect. it also comes from a place of love. and he's come so far since he was first released from that ice prison. they all have.
before purgatory, no one took tubbo seriously. he only had morning crew. bad was his enemy because of ron and fred. bagi hated him for the hole. he didn't have an egg. so much has changed since then. i mean, just think about what bad said when he showed tubbo the base! think about how bagi's desire to go to purgatory was to save tubbo and the other members of soulfire, how she's said so many times that she wants him as her coach again.
he's found respect, and he's found love of every kind in places he never would have even thought to look. i don't think there's any truer definition of found family than team soulfire.
#qsmp#tubbo#qsmp tubbo#qsmp team soulfire#soulfire#qsmp soulfire#team soulfire#crazy to think about how just months ago qtubbo was just the crazy kid with the controversial hole#and he's still the crazy kid with the controversial hole but that's no longer the only thing the others notice about him#they actually notice him now. they love him#and he loves them#he'd felt so isolated from the other islanders before#but at long last people outside of morning crew have his back#they take him seriously#when he tries to explain himself they actually listen#when he needs support he's encouraged rather than disregarded#sunny has been a huge part of that but so have the other soulgayfire members#there's just so much love there#i really hope they get to work together again in purgatory 2#and i'm super excited to see etoiles going with them :D#on the subject of this post even though etoiles wasn't on soulfire he also ended up gaining that respect for tubbo#the group that was brought to the purgatory boat has such good vibes i care about them so much#and even pierre who still antagonizes him also told sunny to take care of him#i wonder if tubbo even knows how much he's loved#it's certainly new to him#i think if they'd known about fred's funeral they would have been there#tubbo doesn't expect anyone to be there for him and doesn't realize how many people want to be there#they're the found family of all time#the eye guys offered him power but he's already got it! he's got the love and respect of soulfire/morning crew and sunny and the other eggs#and that's all he needs
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ruvviks · 2 months ago
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PLEASE DO NOT TAG AS YOUR OWN OC.
Vincent spends all his life searching for himself, searching for his spot in the world. He lives in the past and what will never be, longing for everything he has missed out on and everything he will never have. It is not until he learns he is dying that he comes to realize he has to live in the present, to enjoy life as it comes.; and despite his confusion, fear, and his regrets, he tries to live the rest of his life to the fullest, knowing very well he is living on borrowed time. OC WEB WEAVE SERIES: VINCENT "V" MAYER.
charles bukowski, pulp // by wiissa0 // loneliness for love; lovelytheband // louise glück, from 'unpainted door' // by biryuza // summer farah, i could die today and live again // tobia photographed by su yang // wake up; run river north // ruhlare // by julykings // lemonade; twin xl // ryan walker photographed by ryan pfluger // mary oliver, from 'marengo' // still not dead; dreamers // by lovelyopalite // by geloy concepcion // lemon drop; raynes // chris abani, ritual is journey // 'die milchstrasse', cover detail // louise glück, averno // i like cars; caroline kole // by cruellesummer // frances molina, o’death
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doyelikehaggis · 3 months ago
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7 Days of Scarepairs: Sciles | Scott McCall x Stiles Stilinski (Teen Wolf) + “Grief”
Requested by @joanthangroff (TW mention of suicide attempt)
It was a long ride back from the motel. At least, it felt longer. Stiles' gaze burning holes in the side of his face wasn't making it go any faster, either. Scott could see his bouncing leg, hear his racing heart and smell the anxiety radiating off of him. Even if he were oblivious to all of that, he would still know something was wrong with him.
"Stiles," he said wearily, looking at him properly for the first time since Coach snatched his whistle back off of Lydia and told them to sit down. "Are you okay?"
"What? Oh, yeah. I'm fine. All good."
The way he glanced at him said otherwise. Scott raised his eyebrows pointedly and the leg bouncing stopped. Stiles ran a hand over his thigh and nodded jerkily as if reiterating that he was fine.
"Look, we're gonna figure this out, okay?" Scott assured him as best he could. "From what Ethan said, there's a good chance that Derek is alive. Once we get back to Beacon Hills, we can find him, and we can make a better plan. No one else is going to get hurt."
He just managed to bite back a promise. He knew he couldn't. He only hoped that it was the truth.
But Stiles stared at him like he could see right through him, his eyes narrowing. He parted his lips like he was going to retort, as he usually would, but instead, he just shook his head and turned to face the back of the seat in front of him. As he ran a hand over his face, Scott frowned.
"You're angry," he blurted out.
Stiles shook his head again and sighed. "No. No, Scotty, I'm not angry." His heart skipped but he acted like Scott couldn't hear it. "I'm just... I'm tired. Last night was..."
"I know," Scott said softly. His own heart skipped. "But the darach's not going to catch us by surprise like that again."
Stiles nodded, but he didn't say anything else. In fact, he didn't say anything else for the rest of the ride. Scott wanted to, but something stopped him. He took to staring out the window and letting his eyes unfocus as he repeated his plan to find Derek in his mind the whole way home.
*
The bus dropped them off at the school. Stiles insisted on driving Scott home, even though he had his bike. He didn't put up a fight - he just wanted to go home and see his mom before he did anything else. That phone call back at the motel had felt too real. He just needed to see her.
Of course, she was at work. Scott sighed when he found the note on the fridge, but he told himself not to overthink it. She was fine.
"Alright, well, I think we should go to Derek's loft first," he said, turning to Stiles who was lingering by the back door, his arms folded. "He'd most likely have gone back there to try and heal."
He frowned.
"Although, if the alpha pack are looking for him, that might be too obvious. Maybe we should try the animal clinic first. He could've gone to Deaton, right?"
He waited for Stiles to agree with him or suggest something he hadn't thought of because right then, all Scott had was a handful of guesses and maybes.
But Stiles didn't chime in. He shrugged when he realized Scott was looking at him.
"Stiles, are you sure you're okay?" he asked gently.
Stiles dragged a hand over his face and sighed again, his tongue in his cheek, and he could smell the irritation on him, just like when they were on the bus.
"You know what? No," he snapped, throwing his hand up. "No, Scott, I'm not okay, and, quite frankly, neither are you, and I don't get why we're just pretending that last night never happened. Because it did."
"Do you mean..." Scott couldn't quite get the words out, his throat closing up around them and forcing them back down. He shifted his feet, his gaze dropping to the ground for a moment. "The wolfsbane?"
"Yeah, I'm talking about the wolfsbane," Stiles said, his voice thick with emotion he was failing to contain. "More specifically, what the wolfsbane did to you, Scott."
Scott shook his head, his eyebrows drawing together as he tried to ignore the sick feeling weighing down on him. "It was just... you saw what it did to all of us. Ethan-"
"Tried to saw himself open, yeah," Stiles cut him off. "Probably something to do with his freakish ability to combine into one even more freakish mutation with Aiden. Isaac - he was hiding under his bed. Boyd and Lydia were hearing things. But you, Scott..."
He took a step toward him, and Scott watched his feet, observing every little detail of his shoes and the kitchen floor.
"Scott, you tried to kill yourself."
"It was just..."
"No. No, Scott, the wolfsbane brought out all of your biggest fears and just - just heightened your true emotions. Boyd's guilt about his sister, Isaac's fear of his dad, Lydia always being the one to find dead bodies. It wasn't the wolfsbane talking when you did that. Was it?"
Scott knew he had to give him an answer. He just didn't think either of them really wanted to hear it. The truth hung in the air between them, as suffocating as the gasoline that still clung to Scott's senses.
"It doesn't matter," he said quietly, then looked up to meet Stiles' disbelieving stare. "We need to find Derek. We can't waste any more time, we need-"
"Scott, stop! Can you even - you nearly died! Twice!"
"But I didn't-"
"Because someone stopped you! Allison literally had to sew you back together because you felt so guilty about Derek being dead that you were going to let yourself die, too! Scott, I had to talk you out of setting yourself on fire, how can you not - how do you not see how messed up that is?!"
"Stiles, I'm sorry about last night, okay? I shouldn't have... I should've fought the wolfsbane, or..."
Stiles just stared back at him, shaking his head incredulously. Finally, in a much softer voice, he said, "Scott, I don't want you to be sorry that I had to save you. I just... I just wanna know that you don't actually believe what you said last night."
It was a simple request. It would take just two words. And yet...
Scott opened his mouth. Then he shook his head and closed it again, looking away with a piercing pain where his healed wound was just yesterday.
"You have to admit that a lot of what we've gone through wouldn't have happened if I hadn't..."
"Hadn't what?" He looked back up to see the reason for the quiver in Stiles' voice; tears shone in his wide eyes. "Hadn't survived being bitten by Peter? That's what you meant, wasn't it?"
He tilted his head but he didn't get a chance to deny or confirm. Stiles already knew. He looked like he might crumble into a million pieces.
"Scott," he said, his voice cracking as he moved closer. "I don't care what's happened to us. I don't care about the murderous werewolves or - or the hunters, or any of the crazy supernatural things that keep happening around us, alright? Because we've survived it, but what I wouldn't have survived was losing my best friend."
Scott bit his tongue, his eyes stinging. Part of him wanted to point out all the bad things - the numerous times he's put his life in danger, the people who haven't survived the craziness of their world, and everything else.
Then Stiles really did crumble. "Scott, I meant what I said last night. And I can't lose you. I can't - you and my dad, you're all... you're all I've got, and I can't - Scotty, I can't lose you as well. I need you. And I know how selfish that is, but it's true. So, if you need a reason to - to believe that you should be alive, then there it is. Me, Scott. Make me your reason if you have to, or your mom, or even Allison, because I promise you that none of us would be better off if you weren't here."
"You'd be safe, at least."
He didn't mean to say it. It just slipped out.
"You don't know that," Stiles countered, then he shrugged. "And even if that was true - I don't care. Scott, I'd rather be in danger every day of my life from some supernatural threat than live without you."
He didn't know what to say to that. All he could do was surge forward and hug him. Stiles immediately wrapped his arms tight around him, as if he never intended to let go.
"I'm sorry," he repeated quietly into his shoulder.
"Just make me a promise, Scotty. Alright? Promise that you'll talk to me, so that, when you start blaming yourself for every bad thing that's ever happened, I can tell you what an idiot you are."
Scott chuckled and nodded. "I promise." Then, he softly added: "I mean it."
Stiles tightened his arms just a little more. Both of them savoured the feeling of the other against them. Solid. Real. Alive. Safe. For a moment, they were as physically intertwined as they were in every other way.
Scott knew they should look for Derek. They should come up with a plan to stop the darach. But he wasn't ready to let go of the first real feeling of comfort he'd felt in a while.
#teen wolf#sciles#scott mccall#stiles stilinski#scott x stiles#stiles x scott#7 days of scarepairs#myedit*#derek hale#because scott's grief over derek destroyed me and then there's the added layer of stiles thinking he was about to lose scott#so he's thinking about his mom as well#and there's just a lot of angsty things being felt in general#and also motel california was like the scariest episode for me#so I felt it was fitting to delve a little into it for halloween#and also can we talk about how crazy it is that no one mentioned what happened at the motel afterwards?#they were like 'oh. it was wolfsbane. checks out' then they just never talk about the implications of what happened#like isaac obviously has his trauma. that makes sense#boyd though. I wanted to talk more about his guilt over alicia going missing but then they fucking killed him in the next episode so!#and ethan with the saw thing?? even just a scene of him talking to like danny or SOMEONE about his feelings behind that whole thing#like it was because he feels like he and aiden are one being and he can never be free of him? was it just because they can combine?#or was it like him being worried about aiden being back in beacon hills without him?#but truly the one we do not talk enough about is scott#it is never mentioned again afterwards that he felt like everyone would be better off if he was dead and I just think that's crazy#because sure. wolfsbane. but it was still to an extent scott saying all of it#and we know from the previous episode that he felt so guilty about derek possibly being dead that he would rather DIE than live with that#which is also crazy and doesn't get talked about enough#I need to know if derek knows about that actually#has anyone written a fic about that?#rarepair rowboat#rowing the rarepair rowboat
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sledge-in-space · 5 months ago
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John Seed is a comfort character for some people. Folks like to ship him with their deputies or craft redemption arcs for him.
There's nothing wrong with that, obviously.
But I just can't wrap my head around it.
There's nothing comforting about the way John Seed treated Joey Hudson. I don't understand why the ordeal she went through doesn't seem to matter to fans of his.
She was bait for the rookie deputy and nothing more, because she wasn't going to give in and join the cult.
He terrorized Joey and the rest of Fall's End, stooping to the lowest, most inhumane levels to get his way. Some even theorize that he hurt the "sinners" in his care just because he wanted to, for malicious, sadistic reasons that didn't have anything to do with the cult. At worst, some people go as far as to speculate that he raped Joey.
It's easy to see why someone might come to that conclusion. The way he acts is deplorable and he makes everything feel extremely personal, sometimes in ways that can be interpreted as sexually charged. He'll do anything in order to get his way because "no" is antithetical to him. He regularly flies off the handle, so much so that Joseph is threatening to cast him out. All the touching and getting right up in the player's face is so uncomfortable and obsessive (which is the point, but I digress).
So why does he get to be redeemed and venerated by fans? Don't his actions warrant consequences?
Are people willing to let him off the hook because he's attractive? Because he had a horrible, abusive childhood? Obviously he's got a lot more lore than most of the cast. Is that something people are interested in exploring for him over other characters?
I'm not trying to come after anyone personally. There's nothing wrong with liking villains and Jacob, Faith, and Joseph have also done terrible things to innocent people.
Which is like, fine. It's a video game.
And I know that John, like Joey, is a victim of Ubisoft's choppy, inconsistent writing and storytelling. Things got changed and swapped and cut during development that got us to where we are, with the story we have. Flaws and all, not like it was ever going to be perfect.
But in my opinion, I feel like the adoration for John does a huge disservice to Joey. People make thirsty edits of him while she's literally tied up behind him. It's tasteless and makes the optics of her situation look even creepier.
Her pain has largely been ignored for as long as the game has existed. I can't for the life of me figure out why.
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rickybaby · 10 months ago
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Fear, faith, friendship: Inside F1’s most precious relationship
Tom Stallard, Daniel's race engineer at McLaren, speaks out about his collaboration with Daniel in BBC's article about the relationship between drivers and race engineers.
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home-halone · 1 year ago
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a short rest
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wavesoutbeingtossed · 8 months ago
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All I’m going to say I think now that my brain remembered part of what it was thinking is that Taylor and Joe went through a lot together (good and bad) and regardless of how it ended or what led to it they both seem to be determined to keep that private and not throw each other under the bus and in the end they’re just two very, very different people whose outlooks in the long term were just never going to align and never has that been clearer.
#I AM NOT DEFENDING HIM JUST TO BE CLEAR#I’m just saying… he said a lot of nothing in those quotes beyond ‘people on the internet suck’#which is true#and both he and Taylor are keeping things close to the vest about it all#and just seems to me that whatever they went through together they are determined to keep it between them so that’s the end of that#(again in contrast to how she has no qualms about reading m for filth)#he’s just some guy and now he gets to be just some guy forever#and she gets to be extraordinary#like yes the loving committed thing raises eyebrows given how much pain she was in#but like he could have shaded her about how it ended too and he didn’t#AND I AM NOT DEFENDING HIM#we know he was a terrible partner and she felt like shit#I’m just saying neither of them want to delve into the specifics and i think they’re just moving into footnotes in each other’s lives now#like i want to make it clear AGAIN I am not condoning anything on his part here — clearly there were huge issues#I’m just saying just because he may have sucked as a partner doesn’t mean the internet being cruel isn’t also true idk#and yes it’s transparent why he’s choosing to speak out now (or rather why the Sunday times is choosing to reach out to him now)#but like… idk i just can’t muster up any feeling about this man one way or the other lol#and take cues from Taylor (and even him) she’s determined to keep it between them other than the broad strokes#so I’m following her/their lead#(like I have thoughts about why but that’s not important and ultimately is just… it’s the most normal of ltr breakups)#like he just sounds a little pretentious with his ‘real life’ which like… good on him keep living that real life you do you dude#meanwhile his ex is flourishing with every passing week and milestone and is living her unabashed best life#and they’re probably both happier for it now
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illmoraineakoi · 12 days ago
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So how many times do you think Victim tried to commit suicide after Mitsi's death, but never actually got very far because of the fear of potentially waking up back on the PC?
And how many times do you think he was so far beyond caring that he actually did try?
And how many times do you think Agent found him before it was too late?
IMO, all three are a non-zero number.
#I think he probably wanted to “join” her at least once in those first few months and didn't see the point in continuing to live without her.#I also think that Victim probably self-harmed at least a few times because he didn't know how to cope with his emotional pain#I feel like after the attack Agent dedicated himself to Victim to an unhealthy degree in an attempt to make up for failing her#And I think that during that time Agent developed a sense for when things just felt “wrong” with Victim#Like a sudden gut feeling that something wasn't right and that he needed to go check Vic RIGHT NOW#and 9 times out of 10 something would be wrong with Vic.#Either he'd be in the midst of a horrible grief-stricken breakdown; injured from SH; catatonic to the point of not eating/drinking#or actually in danger of dying from an attempt.#Victim would have just been an utter MESS in the first few months afterwards. Completely unable to function.#The only reason Agent can function is because Victim needs him and he cannot bear the idea of letting him down.#Agent probably also helped run Rocket corp in those first few months too because Victim wasn't in any state to do it alone#and might not have even known what he was doing because acting as CEO was probably more Mitsi's job than his.#Vic seemed to be more like a designer and builder of their tech than the business side in the flashback photos.#TL;DR: Agent has been Victim's sole pillar of support ever since Mitsi's death and I think Agent would literally rather die than fail him.#He will support Victim even to his own detriment#Because Agent cannot let go of his own overwhelming guilt and grief for Mitsi any more than Victim can.#Her loss is a shackled wrapped around their necks that will never let go; nor will they ever let it let them go.#Alan Becker#Animator vs animation#ava#ava Victim#ava Agent#tw: suicide mention#tw: self harm mention#Mitsi's death fucked both Victim and Agent up so bad and you cannot tell me otherwise
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1960z · 4 months ago
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holy fuck that really puts into perspective how tall van zieks is why is kazuma tiny
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bigskydreaming · 6 months ago
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The thing that kills me about the Star Wars prequel trilogy and why I will die on my hill that my problem is not that Star Wars is a tragedy, its that its a badly written tragedy, is that Anakin Skywalker was at his closest to being a good Jedi when he was ten years old.
#im not an anakin apologist by any means because I get the point of his character and Im not pro or anti jedi#my only real opinion on all of it is similar to what I was saying about Peter and Tony and the MCU yesterday#its badly written. its EVERYONE being contorted into shapes that dont make a ton of sense in service to#getting characters to where they need to end up for certain things to occur#my opinion is not that Anakin is inherently bad or good or that the Jedi are inherently bad or good#its that their entire conflict was set in motion by forcing the Jedi to act in ways that felt massively OOC when they were#first interviewing him as a kid and like.....I ACCEPT that the Jedi are supposed to be for the most part kindhearted and empathetic and all#of that which is why its so noteworthy in my opinion that this does not match with how they were FORCIBLY portrayed in those early movies#in order to ENGINEER the idea that this kid in desperate need of support but already with a lot of good instincts and positive traits#came to the order of kindly supportive literal empaths and everything went downhill from there#like kindly supportive literal empaths would not in my opinion look at a kid trying his best to be brave & stoic in completely intimidating#circumstances and surroundings and be judgmental and fairly dismissive about it as though theyve never met a kid before let alone a#traumatized one and the fact that thats kinda what happened is in contrast to how a lot of pro anakin people frame that NOT proof#that the Jedi order are inherently bad its that in that key scene and multiple others#the Jedi order were BADLY WRITTEN in pursuit of one pre-determined outcome that mattered more to the script/Lucas than#being true to their core conceit and characterizations. and thats just one example out of dozens I could list and the same holds true for#anakin's side of things so thats why I always steer far away from SW discourse#because Im like the problem with the characters in terms of the most iconic arc is not really any of the characters so much#as the plots refusal to let them actually consistently BE characters rather than just fixed and contrived stepping stones on the way to#the desired endpoint
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