#it's just frustrating to deal with | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

unfinishedslurs · 1 year

Text

prank gone wrong (viral!) (steddie)

Eddie’s been someone’s dirty little secret before.

He’s got a type, okay? Unfortunately hot jocks are often the type of asshole to get sucked off behind the bleacher and then turn around and spit in his face about it. Going right back to their friends to talk shit about what a freak Eddie is, never mind the fact that his mouth still tastes like their nasty fucking jizz. He’s used to it by now. Used to people who pretend they barely know each other. He’s not asking they parade their relationship for the whole town to see, just someone who doesn’t pretend they’re strangers. Is that too much to ask?

He’s so fucking stupid. He really thought this time would be different.

Steve Harrington barreled into his life like a goddamn train and Eddie’s been derailed ever since.

The first time he met Steve he was six. Eddie still lived with his mom, and she took him to the park, where he met a little boy who wrinkled his nose and told him he smelled bad. Steve does not remember this, and turned red with mortification the first time Eddie told him

After that incredible hit to baby Eddie’s self-esteem, they didn’t interact much, existing on the periphery of each others lives. He figured it didn’t matter. Harrington was a year under him, and a douche besides. Was ready to leave town from the moment he learned to walk. As soon as he graduated, he could finally get the hell out of this place and never think about the assholes he went to school with again.

His mom leaves. His dad gets arrested. He moves in with his Uncle Wayne, who only has one bedroom in his trailer and won’t take no for an answer when he gives it to Eddie.

Eddie doesn’t graduate.

(Harrington comes back to school different after Byers beats him up. Eddie doesn’t notice. He’s got bigger things to worry about.)

They don’t talk in Eddie’s second run of senior year either. He hears the gossip, sees him come to school with stitches in his forehead and no girlfriend. Still, it’s none of his damn business. He rolls his eyes at the rumors and stays far away from Billy Hargrove.

Steve Harrington graduates. Eddie doesn’t.

And this is where his careful distance falls apart.

It’s the mall’s fault of course. What isn’t? Businesses closing down, rent going up, his resolve crumbling. All over some fucking ice cream. God, Eddie should have just turned around. Left the store and the mall and the entire damn town behind.

He’s aware he’s being melodramatic, but in his defense he’s queer in Indiana. He has a right to be.

Anyways, the point is that Eddie saw Harrington’s little blue shorts and red lips and cannot be held responsible for what happened after.

(They fucked. That’s what happened. They fucked, and kept fucking, and then after the mall burned down Steve showed up on his doorstep with suspiciously placed bruises and his coworker and looked at Eddie with pleading eyes. He didn’t even bring Robin home to her parents like a sensible person, just insisted on having her there because they were a package deal now and couldn’t be separated. Like puppies, Robin said when he looked at her. Last he checked, she wanted to bite Steve’s head off, and now they were attached at the hip?

He got used to it quickly. He had to. She comes on half their dates. Steve’s lucky he’s so cute.)

Now, nearly five months after Steve served him ice cream for the first time, he feels his heart shatter in the Hawkins High parking lot.

“Harrington,” Dustin shouts, and it carries across the empty lot. Steve’s head jerks up and he waves, Robin standing beside him. “Steve, c’mere!”

Steve tilts his head. “What?”

“Come. Here.” Dustin repeats, enunciating clearly. Mike and Lucas look at him like he’s insane. So do Gareth, Jeff, and Chuck.

Steve, who is standing a mere 20 feet away, turns to Robin and says something that makes her snort. Eddie can practically hear his bitchy murmur.

“Is that Harrington’s girlfriend?” He hears Gareth ask. He has to swallow his laughter.

“Yes,” Dustin says.

“No,” Mike corrects.

“He won’t admit anything, but he always has a bunch of hickies and stuff after hanging out with her,” Lucas clarifies, because half the time when Steve says he’s hanging out with Robin he's actually with Eddie. The fact that Robin is usually still there is irrelevant. Marking up his boyfriend is one of his favorite pastimes. He refuses to let his boyfriend’s “soulmate” get in the way just because she refuses to sleep in one of the Harrington’s fancy guest rooms like a normal person unless he kicks her out. The way they both pout at him for it is fucking ridiculous. He ends up giving in half the time, and then lies awake and cold on the very edge of the bed because Robin starfishes her way across the rest and Steve is a blanket hog.

The first time he tried giving Steve a hickey as some kind of dominance move for privacy, Robin stared him dead in the eye and didn’t back down.

“I can do that too,” she said, and promptly bit Steve on the shoulder. Steve, who was shirtless and already slightly dazed from Eddie’s ministrations, let out an honest to God squeak. Like a dog toy. Eddie and Robin both stared at him before breaking into loud cackles that had a blushing Steve yelling at them before finally burrowing under the covers and refusing to come out. Needless to say, Eddie didn’t get laid that night.

“Harring-ton,” Dustin whines.

“I’m literally right here. You come here.”

He did, if only to grab Steve by the wrist and drag him to where everyone else was standing. Steve squawks. “When we’re late for dinner with Ma, I’m telling her it was your fault—“

“I want you to meet everyone!”

“I went to school with them!”

“Yeah, but they think you’re still a dick,” he says, as if they’re not standing right there. Steve is similarly engrossed in their conversation, not even noticing that Dustin’s stopped walking.

“They can think whatever—“ he walks right into Eddie and lets out a startled oof. Eddie, who let it happen, catches him as he flails.

“Well hello to you too,” he says, not bothering to hide his amusement.

Steve looks at him with wide eyes, gaze dropping down to his lips before whirling around and snapping, “Henderson!”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“I didn’t do anything,” Lucas mimics under his breath, ducking behind Steve when Dustin turns around with the fury of a thousand suns in his eyes.

He just stands there, hands on his hips as the kids bicker around him.

“Oh, so now we can talk?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asks, brow furrowed like he doesn’t know exactly what he’s talking about.

Eddie can’t help but laugh, a sharp sound that makes Steve jump. “What do you think it means, Harrington? You never want to talk to me in front of the kids! Don’t want to dirty your hands with the Freak in public, I guess.”

“I…what are you talking about?”

[no talkie henderosn]

“What?” His eyes get wide, panicked, as he reaches for Eddie. “Eddie, that’s not—you have to know that’s not what I meant by that. I never meant it like that!”

“Then how did you mean it?”

Steve mumbles something he can’t make out.

“Speak up, sweetheart.” It comes out mean, he knows it does, but he’s feeling a little mean right now. Lashing out like a wounded animal just because his boyfriend didn’t want to talk to him in public.

Actually, when he puts it that way, he remembers he’s justified.

Steve says something again, still incomprehensible. Eddie rolls his eyes. “If you can’t stop mumbling, I’ll just leave.”

That does the trick. “I thought we were playing a prank on Henderson together!”

Eddie gapes at him. “What?”

“I thought,” he repeats, running an anxious hand through his hair, “we were pretending not to know each other to mess with the kid. Eddie, baby, you’ve gotta know I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known you were hurting. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t I…” This can’t be real. He’s been agonizing for months, and for what? A prank? Just some stupid, shitty prank Steve thought he was in on? He’s going to jump off the quarry. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have had so much fun with that!”

“I thought you knew!”

“How would I have known? I can’t read your mind!”

“You can sometimes,” he says, pouting. Eddie wishes they weren’t in the middle of an argument, he wants to kiss those lips so bad.

He groans into his hands. “It’s significantly easier to tell when your boyfriend wants to fuck than it is to read ‘Hey, let’s play a prank on this twelve year old,’ on someone’s face, sweetheart.”

“I guess,” Steve huffs. Then his face softens. Eddie lets himself be drawn in by the wrist, helpless in the face of his sweet smile. “We can stop,” he promises, swaying in close enough for his breath to ghost across Eddie’s lips. “We could walk into Hellfire tomorrow holding hands, if you wanted to. Anything you want, just say the word.”

“How would we walk into Hellfire? It’s at your house.”

Steve pinches him for that.

#prank gone wrong (viral!) au #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things fanfic #steddie #i Did not end up writing the actual scene where Steve decides to prank Dustin by pretending to hate eddie #But just so you know he looks at Eddie and raises his eyebrows and in Eddie’s mind he’s asking how they should play this #in Steve’s mind he’s asking a series of convoluted questions that end ideally end with Dustin ripping his hair out in frustration #Steve I’m sorry but you need to use your WORDS your boyfriend things you HATE HIM #this goes from pre-s4 to post-s4 btw #Featuring stobin being weird as fuck friends bc I feel like they would Not Be Separated for the first couple of months after Starcourt #Eddie just has to deal with that #He’s also being dramatic they eased up eventually. enough for Robin to give them space to get their rocks off anyway

469 notes · View notes

miusato · 1 month

Text

Loitering after school like they don't have 5 homeworks due tomorrow 🥴🥴🥴

#*sigh* i missed drawing 😔😔😔#anyway hhh i kinda prefer without the bg maybe because it just looks clearer to me #but this was fun to paint akdjekaoqljdoqd I just want them to hang out and like air out all of their frustration in their life #like since both of them are orphans I know they both just shares the same pain and frustrations with the home they lived in #i like to think of kotone living with a chill but promiscuous aunt so most of her grievance is her dealing with her aunt and her men talk #-and of course seeing her bringing different men back home #and shinji living with a foster family that clearly brings him in just for the money so he has to take part time jobs for school money #i swear i need to sit down and actually think about their backstory in this au akdjdksiapa helpspslsks #asukart #00s highschool au #persona 3 #persona 3 reload #persona 3 portable #shinjiham #shinjiro aragaki #kotone shiomi #minako arisato #persona 3 femc #foolmoon

60 notes · View notes

uncanny-tranny · 4 months

Text

The whole "humans are inherently awful and bad!" spiel is so tiring to me as a survivor of abuse because it comes off as abuse apologia. If humans are inherently awful, then why should it matter if you're abused - that's what humans do best! Like, genuinely, I think this mindset can harm abuse victims/survivors because they're being inundated with this idea that, well, how bad can their abuser be? All humans are horrific, why complain, why escape, and why try to resist it?

I really wish people would critically analyze where these ideas come from and where these lines of thinking can lead. Maybe it's a matter that I'm looking too deep into, but this very bleak ideology is not going to help in the long run, I think, and some of the first people who are going to be crushed by it are the people who are vulnerable or who are put in vulnerable positions in society.

#politics #abuse tw #abuse mention tw #i think a lot of these beliefs can influence your politics and how you view other people #honestly if i kept the mindset that humans are inherently abusive i would have just stayed with people who abused me. lol.#i think a lot of people who posit these things are genuinely in pain and i really really feel for them...#...a lot of these people may be in the earliest stages of healing where the world DOES feel scary...#...but i don't want that to be normalized in the sense that it *can be* harmful to dwell in...#...when the world feels like a hammer you're going to think you're a nail. and that's such a scary thing to be stuck in #i think it's different when people use this stuff to imply that abuse isn't real/isn't a big deal because abuse is the Nature of Humanity #i'm just frustrated that this is seen as... expected? necessary? fine? it's hard to describe #i've probably talked about this before but i don't care because this is important to me still even if i did

113 notes · View notes

expectiations · 15 days

Text

Thinking of how "left me like a book on a shelf" is from River's POV and therefore does not mean it is the entirety of the story much like how "the Doctor does not and has never loved me" was uttered from a River who was grieving.

Like the Doctor could have spent a long time putting the TARDIS in stationary orbit around the Library. The Doctor could have puttered about with the Library from years before it was shut down to ensure that everything would go smoothly while doing his best not to change a single thing. And on days when it is too hard, he just stares at the Library from his perch on the TARDIS door. Waiting, hoping, thinking. Trying to find a way out for her. For them.

And he does!

He finds a hundred ways to get her out of the data core. But...something always goes wrong. It's somehow never good enough. She's back, but she's not entirely there.

So he scratches it out, slaps himself, and tries again.

And again.

But his plans always fail.

But they don't. Not really. His plans could work. Could have worked. His beloved Sexy would help him. She'd always help him when it comes to her Water. But he was too scared. Too frightened of failure. Because one single mistake. One. Single. Mistake. And she's gone. He can never get her back. Forever.

So he runs. And runs. And runs. Until centuries has gone by and companion come and gone. Until he met a younger, more alive version of her. And then they had Darillium. And oh the joys of wonderful joys, what a night that was.

But things end. Even for him. They had to part ways again. Had to say goodbye. So he tries again. Picks up what his previous self had shelved. He tries. Oh how he tries.

But still. That fear exists. Is it worth it? Can he finally accomplish what he'd started a literal lifetime ago?

(He doesn't.)

Off on another lifetime with a new body. He's a...she now? Oh and shorter! Wow. That's new! I wonder what Ri–

On the rare moments she allows herself to succumb to sleep she goes to their his her study. She takes a moment to take everything in. It's unrecognizable now – the study that once was theirs filled with warmth and laughter and-

Every single space was taken. Covered by plans of plans of plans spanning...two...lifetimes now. Sexy still kept it just as it was the last time he she had been in there.

Their His Her favorite throw was still where it was – on their his her favorite corner of their his her favorite couch.

Nothing had changed but everything had changed.

She curled up and buried her face hoping it would still smell of her (It did. They never knew how it worked but somehow her smell still lingered anyway. They thought they were hallucinating at first but other people had been able to smell it too. Sometimes they forget but Sexy also lost her too).

She was a he again. The same face they had four lifetimes ago. The same face who was the first to keep the memory of their meeting.

But wh- what? Why? How? Is this it? Is this the body that finally brings her back home? A fitting act really. He put her in there and so he'll also put her out of there.

But... she wasn't there. Nothing was there. Nothing but chunks of debris and ashes and smelted...somethings.

When he blinked his eyes open (when had he closed them?), Donna's worried face greeted him. He blinked again and blinked. Nothing changed. Everything has changed. He had waited for far too long. He had made her wait for far. too. long. He feared of failing her but now he actually has failed her.

Everything was bland now. Was it just him or is everything a bit...on the side of grey? Donna looks at him like he might break. (He won't. He's a Time Lord. Time Lords don't break.) Even Sylvia had taken to treating him a bit more kindly.

He goes off alone with Sexy. His return to the Noble-Temple (Temple-Noble) household becomes fewer and further in between. One day he finds himself in Venice. Wonderful Venice. His Pond and her Roman (who wasn't yet a Roman) had gone here. There were vampires. And running and –

River?

No silly. River wasn't there.

He blinked. And blinked again. Made sure the sky was blue and the clouds still fluffy white. But was that his leather jacket that just whizzed by past him? Wait. Hold on. That was... Was that? Oh no. It wasn't. It couldn't be. Did they? No. They couldn't have.

But of course, apparently they did. Because that was actually his leather jacket wearing self that just passed by him again(?) tugging along his very-much-not-dead wife along running from... Hold on. Why are they running? What- Who's shooting at her?!

#cues in iconic doctor who intro lmao #hi don't mind me. i'm just being my melodramatic PMS self #it's reaaally wonky i think but argh whatever just spitting out my grief and frustration. come to think of it i find words flow easier when #i am upset lol? hmmm what does that say about my high school self who used to write chapters with 1k as minimum.#it's difficult dealing with people who simply say river is just another one of the doctor's marriages so this is me dealing with it #i had trouble knowing where to stop and then thought OH why not put nineriver in but make it Post-Library River???#lmao and i ended it there because i needed to stop (i have 3 – THREE – exams tomorrow)#dw musings #that turned into a sort of fic ish #doctorriver #doctor x river #doctor who #tia talks tish #river song #eleventh doctor #tenth doctor #twelfth doctor #thirteenth doctor #fourteenth doctor #ninth doctor #the doctor's wife #tardis #what other thing can i tag my sort of fic #tia writes tish #post-library river song #yowzah #i pond queue #11th doctor #12th doctor #10th doctor

41 notes · View notes

piratecaptainscaptainpirates · 3 months

Text

Heyyy, I'm gonna be turning off anon asks for a bit. I think one of my posts where I talk about how refreshing OFMD is for me as a poc got screenshotted or something and I'm just getting a lot of nasty asks about it and I just don't have time for that.

And I've just had a lot of people come into my askbox demanding to know what my race is since I just identify myself as "not White" or as a poc most of the time, and I thought this could maybe be a teachable moment. Some people have been using the fact that I speak Hebrew/Yiddish as my first languages to insist that I must ""really"" be White and dear lord if you think that I just want you to examine why you're so insistent that Jews have to be white.

I usually just identify myself as "not White" online because I'm mixed, several non-White races. My family is mostly Ethiopian Jewish. Most Ethiopian Jewish families like mine moved to Israel in the twentieth century, my family did in the 1950s and mostly later moved to the US but we still speak Hebrew. It is not fucking weird to be a Black guy who speaks Hebrew as a first language and the fact that some people think that is a big part of why I choose not to elaborate on my race in the first place.

Anyway. Just, like, if you feel the need to harrass some random poc on the Internet until they tell you their exact racial makeup you need to do some self-reflection about that because it is, first, none of your business, and also just a wildly racist thing to do to someone because they said they found a TV show to have great representation.

#ugh. sorry if i sound angry this has just been a frustrating day.#and i'm okay! i've blocked the people who've been nasty! i just like to come on here to have fun so i'm turning anon off for a bit #because i do not have time to deal with this when i could be having fun talking about my gay pirate show

59 notes · View notes

linktube · 23 days

Text

i think its some of damiens responsiblity to think what kinda relationship he cultivaded with his fans. and why is centering his need for explaning, defending and further protecting his self/image is his knee jerk reaction. unless you do those things a social media break is just another way of image management. plus it wont feel better when you come back and you are still centering your image which causes you too act defensive/childish. you cant support things thru acts of fear and nervousness and not expact them to crumble! i know people joked abour his virtue signalling in the past, and they are jokes, but its a curious thing people notice that around him enough to point that out. i hope he can actually look into that part of himself with a more honest critical lense.also these twitch stream where he wants this magicaly ''positive'' enviroment where people can ''escape'' is just unrealistic at best. this is a livestream where people rush on each other to talk to you. its by nature feeding into these things im afraid if you wont allow friction there, you'll fall into cencoring. positivity is not the warm blanket you think it is, its more of a trap lol

#some thoughts #blocking fans in general is a very emotional but stupid move lol(to me) as a somewhat public figure he must understand that block feature i #practically useless to him other than get his frustration out maybe for a minute? then what?#it only creates a snowball effect.#idk its feels counterproductive altho i can still understand where the frustration is coming from #stan twitter can be nasty. getting cussed by 17 year old girls with no emotional regulation and too much time lol #anyways this is absolutely not about him having the perfect response/apology.. that'll happen and idc about pr managing his reactions lol #also personally i dont find the joke much of a big deal. its whatever. lazy lowblow at worst #he just needs to be realistic about his internet presence and how it interacts with his defensive/nervous personality #and in grand scheme of things the way he interacts with ''activism''.. its not for him/about him.#at the end this reaction is a part of him! he can do what he will with that #hope he has people around him that can be critical about his intentions/reactions without it being taken as a personal attack

36 notes · View notes

recitedemise · 6 months

Text

𝗠𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝗚𝗮𝗹𝗲'𝘀 𝘃𝘂𝗹𝗻𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗯𝗶𝗹𝗶𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗴𝗴𝗿𝗮𝘃𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗱𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗹𝗼𝗽 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘂𝗺𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗲𝘀, 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗠𝘆𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮 𝗮𝗰𝗰𝗲𝗽𝘁𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗰𝘂𝗹𝗽𝗮𝗯𝗶𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗳𝗼𝗿. This lengthy headcanon will refer to canon dialogue from mostly Gale, sometimes others. Reader's discretion is very much advised. There will be in depth explorations into grooming, emotional abuse, heavy manipulation, and suicide.

First, let it be said that Gale, a mortal man, will always be the powerless one in his dynamic with Mystra. Of course, nearing forty years of age, he remains entirely responsible for his own actions, his own foul blunders and every hurt he'll cause, but it's important to remember who formed much of who he is: his goddess, his deity, and egregiously, his lover.

Mystra is power. Mystra is possibility. She knows what sway she holds over her Ioyal, vulnerable, and entirely mortal followers. In all ways that matter, they are but lambs she can steer and herd as she sees fit. She knows they can't deny her, and knows they'll never want to. Gale's sheer servitude and complete devotion; to the very quick of his bones, she lapped them up.

Gale: I was just... practising an incantation. Player Character: No, there's more to it than that. I know devotion when I see it. Gale: What can I say? She's—she's Mystra. I can't describe it, the need I sometimes feel to see her - to draw the filaments of fantasy into existence... Mystra is all magic. And as far as I'm concerned, she is all creation. Player Character: I didn't realize the depth of your devotion. Gale: Magic is... my life. I've been touched with the Weave for as long as I can remember. There's nothing like it.

Gale, orb in his chest, doomed to be eaten by the very thing he loves the most, still speaks so reverently of the goddess, of his lover that has left him to die. He conjures images of her memory—and she is all the while forgetting about his.

Minsc: Gale reminds me of vremyonni of my homeland. The man-mages of Rasheman. While the girl-folk go on to rule as wychlaran, Weave-touched boys were hidden away. Trained to work their craft in silence and secrecy. It is an old custom, not well-observed. In truth, I thought it born of caution after some catastrophe of wizardly men-folk of old. Now, I wonder if it was not done to hide them from Mystra, and the snares she sets for young and prideful boys, hm?

Tales of Mystra's treachery spreads far, leaving those familiar waters surrounding Gale's tower in Waterdeep. They whisper her name, afraid to utter it one time too many, suspecting, perhaps, that she'll show in their mirror like some Faerûnian Bloody Mary.

Talent rouses Mystra. She can see who uses the gift of the Weave and feel them, sampling whatever delight sings their veins as they pull from her domain. Not unlike a spider, she'll follows every tremor that strikes her as just a sliver more profound; and Gale, a prodigy, plucked the Weave's web to so garner her focus. And like some black widow scurrying, she surged down that ripple to prey on a boy. There, Gale, so impressionable, was just a mite older than twelve whole summers. He sat so stunned, beholding Mystra as she lured him into the cradle of her Astral domain. Bathed in her magic, pleasantly coddled within that glittering cosmos, Gale felt blessed in a way he'll struggle always to recount, no word, no language, fit to describe it. He felt chosen. He felt seen. And potently, to a child, he felt loved. Now, imagine a child experiencing something like that. Imagine what they'd think, how brilliant they must be when stood beside the rest. She told him he was gifted, made his heart swell not unlike a child's appetite for praise. She knew what she was doing by offering these morsels, by preying on a child's most delicate mind, and Gale, child prodigy, was already so awash in the idea that his value was in magic. Unfortunately, Gale, susceptible, had no way of squirming out of his goddess' grasp.

Reality: She's laid down the seeds to creep into his heart. When he's just old enough—seventeen's sufficient, she thinks—she stakes her claim and makes him hers.

Gale: My virtuosic talent once caught the eye of the goddess of magic herself, Mystra, who named me her chosen and her lover.

Gale is stunned when she takes him to bed the first time. (Is this really happening?) Mystra claims his mouth in a kiss, taking everything she knows he offers so willingly. Mystra, of course, is not so stunned.

Dream Visitor: An elder brain... one of the cruelest and most powerful creatures in existence, enslaved by mere mortals. Gale, tasked with Mystra's missive to sacrifice himself: This is it... I must do as Mystra commands.

Gale has worryingly low self-esteem beyond his magic. As already explored, his entire worth as a man hinged on and was built entirely off his talent as a wizard. He fought tooth and nail for any crumb of affection Mystra would offer his way, something she only gave him at all seeing his gift as a child. He wants her forgiveness. He desires it genuinely. He believes so firmly that he has wronged his goddess, buying into the idea that sacrificing himself will right his wrong. She holds such dominion over him, making him reduce his confidence in himself into a mere, trifling pittance; after all, she wasn't just his lover, but the patron deity he prays to. And regardless, Gale is a people pleaser, his initial acceptance of her missive coming as no surprise.

After all, Gale, at times, goes to incredible lengths to appease his audience. This habit, compulsion, impulse, whatever you want to call it, is a quality that was relentlessly exacerbated in his relationship with his immortal paramour. He wanted to content her, felt all he did was never enough, for as a matter of principle, he was oceans, leagues, and entire galaxies beneath her. Gale figures: well, how can a short-lived dalliance satisfy a god? He had to make her happy. Indeed, he'd done everything she'd ask. He'd bedded her how she liked, kissed her how she wanted, and of course, even said those words she'd said tasted best. She was his lover, a lover that never tended to his own needs and pleasures, and he fooled himself into thinking that's enough. He won't bend backwards for everyone, mind you, but if you're of the ones he would, he would stop at nothing to make you happy. After all, people pleasing is a way to keep oneself safe, a trauma response to sidestep discomfort, and though it achieves only a direly tentative peace, when that is all you've been fed, you will pursue it.

Gale did not want to lose Mystra; he couldn't bare the sting of it. And so, when Elminster visited him, Mystra's call for his death offered oh so callously, Gale, heartbroken, felt that part of him kick up. He couldn't endure the guilt, was so hungry for a chance to let his weighty heart breathe, even if it meant dying in the process.

At least this way, he'll finally do something right. At least this way, Mystra will forgive him, and all his friends will survive.

Gale: After I was afflicted with my condition, I locked myself in my tower for an entire year. I was inconsolable, wallowing in my self-inflicted tragedy. I'd given up on myself.

As a byproduct of people pleasing, Gale, too, is all too quick to accept all guilt. He self-deprecates, gaslights himself to a venomous degree, and twists his reality in so cruel a way as to make him the villain Mystra'd led him to believe. He self-flagellates himself, the first one in the world who will throw Gale of Waterdeep a mental punishment. Mystra's a goddess, after all, seen as utterly faultless, and twined so tightly with a being so mighty in esteem, Gale slipped into the role of the guilty often. When tied with anyone with grandeur like this, so immeasurable in their own self worth, it's important to keep in mind this: you are nothing but a prop in which to fulfill their ego. Gale was not Mystra's, not by a long shot. Rather, Gale was a tool, simply her mortal extension.

And he took every blow meant for her... a common and terrible habit for many people in imbalanced, ego-fueled relationships.

Gale's life beyond her wasn't something that interested her. She took most of Gale's devotion, manipulated his life to be her sole mantle of attention, for Mystra is not a goddess that shares very happily.

Indeed, long before his self-imposed isolation, this jealous deity did well at keeping him isolated.

Player Character: Picture kissing him. With tenderness. Then, with passion. Gale: I... I didn't think— Narrator: You perceive quick-fire embarrassment, trepidation, and finally... elation.

And so, cheated out of love, so reduced in his value as a man and lover both, suffice to say, Gale's slow to believe he can ever be loved. That's what happens when you're with someone so cold, consistent only in their infinite lack of respect. Gale looks at fondness, and he feels—confounded, to be sure. He thinks, is this truly mine to have? He doesn't know what to do, is nearly forty in game, and despite having lived decades devoted to one relationship, he feels, at the same time, entirely out of depth. To be frank, he greets it with embarrassment, like he's been caught red handed with something not his at all. He's like a child caught rummaging with his hand in a cookie jar, all this isn't mine to enjoy, not mine to indulge in, but he thinks, startled, but god, do I want. He wars with disbelief, uncertainty, and need, and in so many ways feeling utterly starved, with just a glimmer of affection, he falls fast into love.

Scenario: (And if properly romanced, it changes his world.)

Gale: In her (Mystra's) likeness, I used to read a thousand stories. She was beauty, wisdom, elegance, power... she contained universes. But now... it is hard to see any redeeming qualities in a lover who condemned you to death. I'd much rather gaze into your eyes than hers. Yours are capable of tenderness and feeling... No god could ever compare.

He says it with sincerity. There is such wonder, such love, and such awe in his eyes. He makes the act of kissing him feel like you've just reached into the trenches to but pluck him soundly from his ruin and despair. You think, Gale Dekarios, how unloved have you been all this time?

Gale: To know you love me for the man I am, and not the magic I command… none have loved me so purely before.

The answer is: entirely.

For so long, Gale thought love was simply being chosen. He knew nothing of being favored for the quality of his character, to be cherished and accepted even in those ways he fumbles and lacks. Again, his needs were seldom met, often treated with utter indifference by Mystra herself, and to meet someone so eager to treasure him, dote on him in a way his heart, his body is somberly new to, raptures his spirit and captures his soul. He's seen for who he is. He's... loved, desired for his silly quips, his easy smiles, and his growing affections. He bares himself to them, and in turn, they cradle his heart like something entirely precious. Gale thinks this has to be dream. He says, at times, you are more than I deserve.

Scenario: (But sometimes, he hopes too strongly and loves too greatly. As it always does, then, like he's once more wanted too much, he watches something beautiful slip right through his fingers. Of course, Gale Dekarios. Of course it does.)

Player Character: I didn't know you felt so strongly, Gale. Gale: Perhaps I should have done more. Been more charming, more flattering, harder to reach... but I was only myself, and sometimes that isn't enough.

They don't love him anymore. It breaks his heart. He hurts so much, so profoundly and deeply, and he doesn't realize that he breaks their heart in turn.

Unable to ever voice his feelings with Mystra in any way that amounted to much, Gale's a tendency to wallow, expressions coming off as potentially 'guilt-tripping' and even, on occasion, passive aggressive. Firstly: Gale NEVER means to manipulate emotions, and he's no intention of twisting anyone's arm, either. Fact is, Gale, never taken seriously when he'd bared his vulnerabilities to the Mother of the Weave, can end up saying just a little too much. He feels very deeply, and for most his life, seldom had an outlet for these weeping sentiments. He sometimes lets slip raw words and oftentimes heart-wrenching expressions; all the same, it's not so pitiful as to shepherd an outcome, but rather, is a gesture taken by a man so desperate to be heard. It may feel like scheming, but the truth is far, far greyer: feeling as though he's no right to share the depth of his heart, Gale simply lets it geyser out in a way he can't cork up. In ways he doesn't realize, he's adapted to this ache, passively reacting so his feelings can at least be seen and recognized—no matter how pitifully unwhole. With someone who values so little his thoughts... well, when he slips into these moods, one can hardly feign shock.

Situation: (And if no one shows him trust and tenderness, any true care in his character or worth, Gale gets swallowed up by how wronged he was.

He thinks: Let me be a god. Let no one hurt like me anymore.)

Gale: They only want us to serve them, pray to them...and ultimately, to die for them. But what if we didn't need them? What if we wielded their power instead and helped ourselves in all the ways they refuse to? I could make that happen.

Gale is not above anger, and as stated, he is not above pettiness; however, more than that, he is not above righting himself whatever wound he was struck. Gale, if not offered much by ways of affection, understanding, is made to believe that one idea that's lived growing in his mind: Gale Dekarios is far from sufficient; he has to be more. He has to be better. Gale, in such an unkind ending for himself, sips too desperately—and perhaps greedily, too, but desperately serves as a far better word—at that idea that he needs power. And so, wresting the Crown of Karsus for himself, he spites Mystra in his own way, becoming a god he feels is leagues better than she will ever be. Damn her thoroughly. Damn her ego, her power, and her endless indifference. He will serve the people, protect them, and in ways Mystra never could, better the world.

Situation: But as a god, he loses all sense of his kindness. Humanity. All who loved him leave him, and even Tara spurns the image he's become. With power, he's gained the respect he thought he always wanted... but in turn, he lost in even greater measure all the love he's known.

Endnote: But healing, knowing to forgive himself and knowing he's deserving of care simply for being Gale Dekarios will remain, always, the best path for him.

#HEADCANON.#Oh... anyway. This. Was. A lot.#And it was a lot for me mentally and emotionally to write.#So much of this hit home.#Gale isn't perfect. He can be petty and immature—a byproduct of not being all too good at venting his frustrations when #it gets to a point. He has very bad self esteem. He is not forgiving of himself and is too forgiving of Mystra.#He endured FOR DECADES the cold indifference of a goddess he called his lover.#I know people dog on him because he's a grown man with these hurts and traumas and responses #but just because his trauma manifested in ways you don't find palatable or hot or sexy #doesn't mean they aren't scars left by trauma buddy!!!#And quite frankly that bit about God Gale sounding vindictive and angry #yeah! SOMETIMES people who have so cold and uncaring and belittling a partner #end up angry. You shoved someone into a corner and hounded them for SO LONG. Don't start crying when they rear back on you and bite #I have a deep connection with godhood Gale. But obviously a healed Gale that finds love and acceptance in himself is so much healthier.#I'm rooting for you Gale (always).#So much of this was typed up with a lot of first hand experience so... to say this was a Gale exploration #as much as a way to navigate my own trauma is an apt one.#No two tales of abuse are alike of course. Gale's experience isn't my experience. But I can sympathize a great deal.#TL;DR: This meta post means a lot to me. K. Thanks.

68 notes · View notes

zeb-z · 9 months

Text

also something about foolish, who usually sticks around spawn, who builds or fools around, who takes care of his daughter, going off thousands of blocks away to fight in dungeons. to throw himself into the fight again and again. to find something harder to fight each time, to get a reward that he doesn’t really need or want anyway. no leo around for him to worry about, or worry about him in return, after all

#foolish 🤝 bad - healthy coping mechanisms who??#anyways no one is dealing with this well and I’m ready for them to just destroy the island until their children come back or they can go #and save them #sorry to keep angst posting on main I’m going through it pfksjfjs #I’m just. foolish isn’t one to get serious or genuinely upset. frustrated maybe. hardly upset like he is #his reaction to Leo? not letting anyone read the book she left before he could even if it would take a lot more effort?#he had his moment of ‘wtf’ laughter. and then he has his genuine im upset I’m pissed I’m at a loss reaction. which is the polar opposite of #his usual frantic raised voice almost comical over the top reactions #when Tina finds out he can’t even fully brush it off with a joke to comfort her. he can’t reassure her. he gets quiet #I’m just. the whole combo. I’m upset about this man #mcyt #qsmp #foolish #z speaks

108 notes · View notes

impossible-rat-babies · 1 month

Text

vierapril day 24--fear

"it wasn't until alisaie fell in the ghimlyt dark--when they were carrying her body back to the forward camp, and further still to the rising stones--when the fear truly set in. when the loneliness rose up to fill the gaps where the scions used to be, and the crushing weight of it settled in.

#vierapril #vierapril24 #oc: eyrie kisne #i should have a gpose tag #ffxiv #stormblood spoilers #i had long tags here but tumblr logged me out halfway through posting so #300/10 functioning website #anyway yeah alisaie was kinda like. the last straw on top of all the other 4.1-4.55 patch stuff #truly they were Not Doing Great #the loss of the scions + all the death at the front lines was Not Great #compartmentalizing that stuff to deal w later #they don't show the fear well but they were terrified to where they were just jittery and quick to frustrate

49 notes · View notes

taffywabbit · 1 month

Text

me: i wish someone other than intsys would make a good tactical RPG with Fire Emblem-style gameplay for me to enjoy

studio: look we made a cool new tactical RPG that fans of strategy games like Fire Emblem will enjoy

me: is the gameplay Final Fantasy Tactics or Advance Wars

studio: it's a good tactical RPG ma'am. fans of strategy games like Fire Emblem will enjoy it :)

me: *plays 20 minutes of it*

(it's FF Tactics or Advance Wars)

#buny text #no shade to either of those games but ff tactics is not really my thing and advance wars is EXTREMELY not my thing #and you would not believe the number of times i have been recommended something like Wargroove when i complain about the decline of FE game #i want more shit like FE Echoes #like literally i'd be overjoyed if i could just play ports/remakes of older FEs with modern difficulty balancing and QoL features #it's deeply frustrating to me that if i want an FE game without permadeath i have to also deal with dating mechanics and a persona calendar #i'm just really surprised i've seen so many indie devs and other studios play off of classic TRPGs but they never seem to do FE #i really thought fuckin uhhhh. triangle strategy or whatever was gonna be it. but i played the demo and it's FF tactics #anyways all the more reason for me to get into gamedev so i can make my OWN indie fire emblem. with gay nonbinary space furries or whatever

30 notes · View notes

madamdiaval · 7 months

Text

I'm not the one now thinking about Malleus dancing with Yuu all night during Masquerade because they blabbed about how in their world they didn't get a chance to dance at the prom

#I'm not the one taking my frustrations out on Yuu in hopes of finding someone to console me #I graduated from high school in 2020 #And traditionally there was supposed to be a prom but it was canceled because of the pandemic #I didn't get a chance to wear a prom dress #I also didn't have a partner because all the guys in our class acted like jerks and didn't think the last high school dance was a big deal #I didn't get a chance even dance with my own dad #I just want to imagine someone saying to me “It's not your prom but let me make up for it and give you the dance you were deprived of”#twisted wonderland #twst #malleus draconia #twst malleus #twst yuu #twst mc

74 notes · View notes

feroluce · 1 year

Text

When Al Haitham dreams, it's in shades of sandy blonde and red, metallic gold and feather-blue. His nightmares are colored much the same.

Kaveh leisurely strolls ahead of him, shoes leaving deep treads in the soft desert sand. He keeps a careful distance, arms length, and in return Al Haitham keeps an eye on him, the other man's back dead center in his sights.

He curses the sand in his boots and the long line of footprints he steps into, already the exact shape of the soles of his shoes.

They aren't lost. Al Haitham knows where they are. They've been here before. They are still here.

Kaveh doesn't watch their feet. His head is constantly tipped back with his eyes on the stars and their constellations (of which Al Haitham only knows two, Vultur Volans and Paradisaea). He'll walk right into a cactus like that. Al Haitham yells ahead for him to watch where he's going.

Kaveh reaches up to touch the side of his head in a strange motion, but otherwise there's no acknowledgement. They press on into the dark of night.

Something squelches beneath Al Haitham's boot.

It stops him short, pulls his attention like a magnet and as much as he wants to, he can't ignore it. He doesn't want to lose any more ground. But something won't let him move on. Al Haitham watches as red seeps into the golden sand, spills beyond the border of his bootprint until he slides his foot aside.

It's an ear.

It's a human ear, and there's a heavy earring attached, metallic gold, gems red and green, a familiar shape, a familiar shade-

Al Haitham opens his mouth to yell. Chokes. Swallows the lump in his throat as he quickly restarts his pace. Tries again.

"Hey!"

Another squelch under a hurried footstep. He doesn't stop to look. Al Haitham is pretty sure he knows what it is.

"Kaveh, hey!"

The path becomes littered, little slices and small pieces, fingertips and knuckles, Kaveh's arms once held casually behind his back now strewn along the sands. Every time Al Haitham extends his hand to him, reality warps and bends like the twisted image in a broken mirror, lines mismatched and edges jagged. Kaveh flits just beyond his grasp, fleeting fae, no longer able to hear him or to reach out to him. Al Haitham can only grit his teeth and follow.

His right foot marches forward. His left follows. His right again. His left suddenly doesn't follow, and Al Haitham is thrown off balance and pitches forward, swinging his arms outward to land on his palms and keep his face off the ground, because he's been in the desert enough times to know what a foot suddenly being stuck can mean.

Quicksand.

Al Haitham curses and swears in just about every language he knows as he tries to spread his weight as evenly as possible, stay afloat at the top of it because if he sinks, he knows he'll be done for, and shit, Kaveh.

His neck cranes uncomfortably in his search, Kaveh had only been a few feet in front of him, he can't be sunk much further, and he's in the desert much more often than Al Haitham anyway, he'll be familiar with what to do-

Kaveh stands in front of him, empty sleeves fluttering loose. Still just out of his grasp, still watching the stars. The quicksand is already up to his calves.

"Say, Al Haitham..." It's the first he's spoken this whole time. His voice resonates somewhere deeply nostalgic in Al Haitham's chest, produces a ripple that momentarily stuns his heart.

Kaveh is sinking.

Al Haitham stretches out on his belly as far as he's able, it's quickly up to his knees, Kaveh isn't even trying to redistribute his weight or pull himself out, it's at his thighs, Al Haitham sucks in a breath and yells for him, his hips, yells louder, his waist, Al Haitham's trembling fingertips can almost reach, his chest, Kaveh drops level with him, quicksand about his neck like a noose.

Kaveh's head tips back, back, impossibly far back, until it hangs, angle awkward, and he's looking right past Al Haitham with his tired smile and gouged, blinded sockets full of starlight.

"Do you believe in karma?"

The quicksand swallows him entirely and Al Haitham dives, shoves his arms deep and pushes off with the one foot he'd had left on safe ground, because he can't, he can't, it's not the same without Kaveh, not anymore, he needs him, no one else keeps him sharp, no one else challenges him like Kaveh, if he can just grab him, if he can just pull him back up-

Al Haitham thrashes, against the sands, against gravity, against the hardwood of his bedroom floor. Clumsily scrubs the back of his hand across his face to rub the grit of quicksand and sleep out of his eyes.

Sometimes he thinks he preferred it when the Akasha was still harvesting his dreams.

He pops his head out from under his weighted blanket and lays where he'd fallen out of bed for a moment, blinking blearily against the lamplight shining from his desk in the corner. Deep breaths. His consciousness shifts along the blurred line of nightmare and reality, crosses over the slow transition into wakeful awareness.

He's home, Kaveh is home. It's dark out. The house is dead silent.

He's just going to go check, he tells himself as he peels himself out of his sweat-soaked shirt and roots around for a replacement. He's already losing memories of his nightmare, the details spilling away from him like wet ink, but he knows he needs to see Kaveh. It'll feel better to do something, anything, than try to go straight back to sleep.

He's quiet when he slips out of his bedroom door, because they both keep late hours but their bedrooms are right next to each other, and Al Haitham will never hear the end of it if he wakes his roommate up.

Lights off, door shut. Nothing conclusive. He moves out to the main room.

Kaveh sits on one of those ridiculous sofas he'd ordered three of for some reason, back to him as he tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. A mostly-empty wine bottle stands tall on the table, next to the cobbled-together remains of an architectural model that's been picked and fussed over for four days straight now.

"Kaveh? What are you doing?"

This earns him an exaggerated startle, but Kaveh doesn't turn to look at him, preoccupied with whatever new sketch or blueprint he probably has in his hands. "Ohhh, nothing," he slurs cheerfully. "Just working. Just thinking."

Kaveh has always been the world's chattiest drinker. Al Haitham waits for the rest of it.

"Say, I think...I think I asked you this years ago, back then, but you never answered me." Al Haitham feels all the blood drain from his face in ominous familiarity, drip cold down the length of his spine. Kaveh sinks into the couch until he can tip his head over the back of it, looking up at him with a tired smile and exhausted eyes.

"Do you believe in karma?"

#genshin impact #haikaveh #al haitham #kaveh #kavehtham #these two have had me chewing concrete lately god #3.6 got me frothing at the mouth #something about al haitham trying to save kaveh from himself and his own guilt complex and self-sabotage wheeee my heart #and he's normally so self-assured but he fucked it up spectacularly the first go around- good job baby-#and now it's years later he's trying again but it's something he's barely chipping away at not to mention Kaveh not wanting his help lol #and so some of Al Haitham's nightmare is objective fact and some of it is his own subjective pov #Kaveh loses his arms and ears bc al haitham is frustrated that he won't hear him out or reach out for help #and he keeps his eyes up and eventually blinds himself bc al haitham thinks of him as too idealistic and blind to reality #and kaveh does all this to himself bc when you ask al haitham about his troubles he talks about people who cause trouble for themselves #kaveh pondering the concept of karma in relation to his bad luck and misery and guilt about his father's death in the quicksand *fans self*#al haitham starting to get just a little nervous that maybe he really he can't do anything about this #or that one day it'll be too little late ough. love when I can whump character by whumping the other.#two for one special buy one get one two birds stoned at once type of deal #i have a Vision about them and their stupid dumbass relationship dynamic that I need to yell about later but for now: this #written while listening to A Sadness Runs Through Him by The Hoosiers which hilariously was introduced to me as a pla Emmet song #'but here was a man mourning tomorrow; he tried to finally drown in his sorrow'#'oh he could not break surface tension; he looked in the wrong place for redemption'#'don't look at me with those eyes; I tried to unheave the ties; turn back the tide that drew him in'#'but he couldn't be saved'#'a sadness runs through him'#extremely kaveh and haikaveh song for me ough #my fics #gore #body horror #I mean it's pretty unrealistic but still just in case

175 notes · View notes