#this could lead to future issues
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Homecoming v.2
...get it.. because the first chapter of my long form sayuri fic is called "homecoming" and this would be version 2... funny... no you dont get it.. thats ok...
Day 6! :) Uh, I had sooo much on my mind for this one and i shortened it quite some so it wouldn't get out of hand. But there is sooo much still in my brain that will never come out. Classic "In my head AU"
Blink and you miss it reference to @depressedhatakekakashi's Yua because when I thought of this scenario and where Kakashi possibly could have gone, she would not leave my mind.
Uchiha Sayuri is this bitch
Role Reversal Au (but not like a total role reversal, Sayuri still has her scumbag father)
Rated M (there is mention of domestic abuse in here)
4116 words
for @narutoocshipweek Day 6: Role Reversal.
On an Anbu mission out of town Sayuri stood face to face with a ghost.
On an Anbu mission out of town Sayuri stood face to face with a ghost.
She didn’t need more than one look to realise who she had stumbled upon, the hair silver grey and white as it used to be, the uncovered eye lazy and disinterested. He was tall now, yes, stronger, larger, but he was still the same. No matter how many years she hadn’t seen him, she still felt hot now that she was back in his presence.
That Hatake Kakashi hadn’t died wasn’t a secret to her. In fact, she hadn’t thought him dead the moment he had run away. Kakashi was not a shinobi of second class. He had been Jounin at the age of 12 and not for no reason. No, Sayuri hadn’t believed what people had told her that he had died when he ran away from his shame and anger and disappointment. Neither had Rin, for what it was all worth. All of them had strongly believed that he was still alive somewhere, holding on, doing whatever it was that took his mind off things. But as years passed many lost their belief, even Gai after a while thought it must have been true. If Kakashi were still alive he would have sent them a message by name, he would have to have a reputation. There weren’t many people with sharingans running around.
But Sayuri had always known that he was still alive and around somewhere. At least since the mark on her wrist appeared and branded her. Soulmates were a weird concept that she could not wrap her head around until it was suddenly there. Three little symbols on her 14th birthday marking his name on her left hand. She couldn't exactly tell people that she knew he was still alive. Also because part of her wished to never see him again after everything, Rin dying, Kushina dying….. She didn’t feel like explaining this to him.
Running from him forever however just put her right here in this place with him. He was wearing armour, his hair long and pulled back in a tiny ponytail not unlike the way his father had worn it when he had come back from whatever place he had travelled to that had kept him from Konoha as long as it did. Back when he appeared with a child but without a wife and refused to talk about the circumstances. Sayuri of course had not yet been born back then, but her father had complained about it often enough.
Kakashi’s eyes shot up as if he could feel her stare on his face and their eyes met for the first time in almost 10 years. His were still as grey as ever and hers were the signature black that the Uchiha genes provided. He nodded and Sayuri nodded back. What else was there to do? She slid over to his table and sat down on the opposite side without asking if it was alright with him, placing her Anbu mask on the table next to her.
“Your mask is a dog”, Kakashi stated without introduction or hello or other conversation starter. “That’s a fun twist of fate is it not?”
She didn’t feel like telling him that it was a Hound, which was yes, a dog, but bigger, and that yes, she had picked it because she had remembered his dog pack back from when she was young, instead a million other questions swirled around in her mind. And though she should have maybe asked “Where were you?” or “Why didn’t you message us that you were alright?” or “What the hell are you wearing?” The words she settled on were more personal and expressed a deep pain in her heart that she had maybe always felt, but that was definitely bubbling to the surface now.
“Why did you leave me?”
This was probably not the right thing to ask, seeing as Kakashi hadn’t left her personally. He had just left their village, their teachers, their friends -one of whom happened to be Sayuri. But it felt like a direct slide to her, now that teachers and friends had died or moved on, she could not help but feel angry and disappointed at it. Here he was, all grown up and healthy and happy from the looks of it and that stung more than she could admit out loud.
Kakashi waved to the barman and he brought two sake cups to place before either of them. He drank the entire cup before he spoke, throwing the long hair into his face. He wasn’t wearing a hitai-ate anymore, but his sharingan eye was covered by a thin bandana bearing rune-like symbols that Sayuri had never seen. He sighed deeply: “You must have known I was still alive out there.”
Not a reply to her question, he was just evading what she had accused him of. Of course, he was aware she had known he was still alive. Sayuir’s eyes darted to her left wrist that was at the moment covered under her thick black gloves and then to his hands, which too were behind gloves. If she had his name it meant that he had hers. At least theoretically.
“You could have contacted me”, she now said and the words were bitter on her tongue. Kakashi just shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “I did not think I had anything to say”, he replied and sounded like a spoiled little child.
Sayuri took her own sake cup and drowned it down, filled it and downed it again. “Gai thought you were dead”, she said bitterly. “Does that mean nothing to you?”
“You could have always told him.”
He must have known well enough by now that the soulmate marks were only visible to oneself, and, at least that's what the legend said, to your soulmate. So Sayuri had tried and failed to inform Gai about Kakashi’s wearabouts, had told him she was sure he was still out there, without mentioning her mark, but Gai had always assumed she was just telling him things to please him. “You don’t have to lie to me, Sayuri. It is ok. I am quite fine.” It had been a hopeless case. Even though he’d been away, there was no way Kakashi didn’t understand that.
“Oh yeah, that would have been so easy, you got me”, she spit out and moved her head away. “Still, I thought you’d be more interested in knowing how we are all doing.”
She noticed that he was wearing a tiny Hatake symbol on his frontal plate. It reminded her a little of the Uchiha crest her father wanted her to wear underneath her ANBU armour plate as if it made a difference. She had objected of course, to no avail. Everybody in ANBu was supposed to know which clan she belonged to first and foremost. IT was disgusting actually.
“I was. But I don’t think I could have just returned after I was away for so many years. Don’t you think they would have asked questions?” Kakashi said and he was obviously right. Had he returned after he was declared dead he could have been seen as a threat to the village. Especially if his answers about where he was and why he didn’t give notice were unsatisfactory.
“But then again, I’m not sure Minato-sensei would have done that to me”, he continued musing. “He did have a soft spot for me anyway… I assume MInato-sensei did end up becoming Hokage, right?”
Of course, Sayuri laughed which gained her a confused look by her opposite, he did not know that they died. Why should he? But that also meant he was in a place so cut off from the outside world that he hadn’t heard about the Kyuubi. He must also not know about Rin, about the other changes in the world. It was so hard to believe that he was away so long and so thoroughly that he missed the death of two of his most important people.
Sayuri emptied another cup of sake. That was three in quick succession and she was well on her way to getting blackout drunk. Maybe that was the only way she could deal with this situation right now, she thought. “Minato is dead. So is Kushina-sensei and….” Her voice broke before she could name Rin.
Kakashi’s eye went wide, she could see him breathe in and out below his mask. “Died?” His voice was quieter and he copied her and emptied a cup of sake. Who knew how many he had had at this point.
“When I was 13, yes. The nine-tailed fox attacked the village and killed both of them. They left behind a baby son”, Sayuri explained and remembered that night. The screams, the chaos, the specific instructions that they were not allowed to help the fighting shinobi. She had just recently joined ANBU on Kushina’s encouragement and felt utterly helpless and horrible. And then the persecution of the Uchiha made her father even more unhinged than he already was…
“You know if you’d contact me once you saw the burn mark on your wrist, then you’d maybe know about them dying”, she said in anger and tapped with her finger next to his left hand. Kakahi pulled the hand away as if she had burned it and frowned: “I was not able to contact anybody at that age. I’m sorry to hear of their death….”
He really seemed like he meant it. “Whatever”, Sayuri said. “Their son looks exactly like Minato, he keeps the village on its toes. Not that I could take care of a child - can’t even take care of myself…”
It was weird sitting there with him and drinking sake cup after sake cup with a long lost friend. The guy she used to crush on when she was younger and more naive. He looked so similar to the version of him that had been dominating her mind, but he was so different. The lines around his eyes were deeper and his facial structure was more mature. Also his voice, of course, his voice had dropped down and was now naturally vibrant, filling her ears and echoing off her insides. He looked good, well fed, well grown, not a mess like she was. And that, above all, pissed her off.
“So you have been doing well for yourself, huh, have enjoyed some fruitful years”, Sayuri said coldly, gesturing to his belly as if there was any fat there to make fun of. It was a petty thing to be mean about, of course and untrue on top, but she felt petty.
Kakashi shrugged his shoulders: “You Uchiha have always been a major pain in my ass, really. It was so quiet with none of you around.” Now he was being petty back at her.
“Oh yeah?! Well you have my brother’s sharingan eye, so show a bit of respect to my family!” Sayuri screamed a little louder than really necessary. Kakashi pulled a brow and she could read the question on his face before he even said it. No Sayuri’s connection to her family had not deepend, no she still despised the fact that she had been born into the Uchiha clan. Using them to win an argument was stupid. Idiotic. Childish.
It was even worse because now people’s heads turned over and put Kakashi into their lenses. A shinobi running around with a sharingan eye for the taking was not usual, especially if they weren’t actually part of the Uchiha clan. Sayuri could clearly feel the eyes of all of them aimed at their table and could sense the killing intent polluting the air.
“Let’s go into my room”, Kakashi hissed quickly and grabbed her, before she could stop him from it. She had just about time to grab her mask before he dragged her up the stairs into a small room with a tiny futon and a kimono folded over a bamboo chair. At least that answered the question that she hadn’t asked and showed her that he did not always wear this weird armour outfit.
He let go of her hand and she laughed a little cruelly: “Can’t you defend yourself anymore? Did the last ten years make you weak?” Kakashi turned his head, it was a little red with anger. “I didn’t want to cause a scene, something you should understand or not? Anbu squad leader Dog” Kakashi said back and a shadow fell over his eyes.
“Hound, actually.” Sayuri shrugged her shoulders theatrically: “Wouldn’t have surprised me if you had not been able to do something about them. You don’t at all seem like the person you were when you were a child.” She looked up and his icy glare met hers. “I mean except the part of you not caring about your friends and comrades. You were good at that already when you were ten.” She grinned a lopsided grin and knew she was now dangerously close to crossing a line.
“I do care about my friends and comrades,” Kakashi growled between gritted teeth.
“Ohhh, well if that would be the case, why didn’t you send a message? At least to me?”
“Why do you think you are entitled to have me message you? Why do you think of all the people that I trusted, you were the one I would tell where I went and what I did? You were only a pain in my ass most of my childhood, “ Kakashi’s eyes now were alight with a fury that ignited her own.
Without saying a word she ripped her arm protection off her arms and pulled her gloves down. All of it fell to the floor with a loud clunk and she pushed her wrist into his face: “Because of this! Because I felt like you would want to talk to me about this. Was this nothing to you?” The skin below her left wrist was burned in like the tattoo on her left arm. Three tiny symbols were visible right beneath it and it had Kakashi’s name on it. He looked down on it and stretched his left hand. Then he looked up at her arm.
Sayuri was full of bruises, it was the way she was. Her missions took a toll on her and she was clumsy when she was distracted. Kakashi touched the arm, let his thumb run from her wrist to her elbow and up her arm to her sleeves. He was surprisingly gentle when handling the wounds and his first direct touch in many years made her blush against her will.
“Who did this to you?”, he asked with a grumble and picked up her other arm to inspect her bruises. She bit her lower lip. There was this inclination to lie to him. It could have been so easy- she lied to her subordinate Tenzo all the time about it. The reality was embarrassing and terrible and a little hard to admit to herself. But somehow she couldn't bring herself to lie to Kakashi specifically. She squirmed: “I came home late recently”, she explained. “He did not like it.”
“You father?” Kakashi asked and his eyes went wide again. He grabbed her wrist so that his thumb hung over his own name. “He is still hitting you?” Sayuri nodded, though she did not look in his face. “You should be stronger than him now, right?” he seemed genuinely angry on her behalf, “Why don’t you put a stop to this?”
Sayuri tried to get out of his grip but he held onto her even tighter: “I don’t know! He is my father. I have nobody else. Maybe - Maybe - Maybe I deserve this..” She bit her tongue at the last part. She knew she’d said too much.
He seemed like a slow erupting volcano: “You don’t deserve this. He should not do this. I’ll- I’ll get him to stop…” She laughed a cold unforgiving laugh as a reply: “And how? You don’t even want to go back to the village. You could have helped me long ago, but it did not matter. Rin didn’t matter, Minato didn’t matter… Obito didn’t matter…” She dragged the last name out and knew she was hurting both of them by calling it.
His face went white and then red with anger. He stepped forward to press her back against the closed door. “Well I’m trying to help you now, am I not?”
“Don’t you think that's a little late?” she spit back.
“Sage, do you ever shut up?”
“Could ask you the damn same.”
They stared at each other, the air between them sizzling with electricity. He was still holding her wrist with his name under his fingers. Sayuri was breathing heavily now as if the air had suddenly gotten unbearably humid, which was so unusual for the country they were both in at the moment. She stared up at the grey eye and the bandana, and looked into the face of the man who used to be a boy that was her friend. Now he was just… Well, she did not know who he was.
Her fingers found his own left hand and without breaking eye contact she undressed his glove and let it fall to the ground. There were some new scars around his hands, from sharpening swords or kunais or whatever he had been doing, but when she looked down she could see the three symbols engraved there. Her heart jumped a little when she saw it was her name, even if she had known it before. Maybe deep down she’d still be scared that she was somehow misunderstanding this whole soulmate thing.
Strangely mirroring him she let her thumb run over her own name, gently holding his wrist between her fingers. Kakashi let her do this and watched her from overhead. Neither of them spoke for a bit, the fight seemingly on hold like they had both been put in a daze. Soulmate marks were odd and seemed to evade proper research. Nobody knew where they came from and why they appeared and disappeared. And nobody knew what incredible power they held once they were unified next to each other.
There was a pull right behind her ear, as if it was dragging her head upwards. Something magnetic was forcing Sayuri closer to him and she let it happen, let herself get dragged into his orbit. Kakashi too seemed to be pulled in by the gravity and he let go of her wrist to move finger mechanically up to his mask. They looked at each other one moment and Sayuri was confused and insecure and felt the weight of everything crushing and disappearing around her, but the next moment her eyes fell shut on their own and she just let whatever was happening happen.
Once as kids they had kissed, or rather, Sayuri had kissed Kakashi as a fun prank. It had been so long ago that she’d forgotten most about it other than the embarrassment she had felt after she’d done it and his shocked face. This was not like that time. It was like they had always done this, as if they had kissed each other a million times before this one. It was so easy, so intuitive and it felt like coming home from a long mission. Kakashi pushed forward into her and she let him, a little dazed at the taste of all of it, the encompassing feeling of melting away under the touch of someone else.
They got dragged underwater like in a spiral, hands grabbing each other greedily and fast as if there was sudden hunger involved. The leftover glove dropped and Sayuri who did not know how to get the armour off let her finger get guided by his hands until she figured the clips and slings out, while his mouth explored her cheeks, her neck and her shoulder. Neither of them spoke much other than affirmations and sighs and names. The world ceased to exist and there was only them and their pull to be as close as they possibly could.
Every of his touches felt like a flame moving up her skin, each of his kisses left a little bruise behind that did not sting like the others did. He was careful with her injuries, she found more and more scars on his body. Wherever this body had been in the last ten years, Kakashi had definitely looked after it even when he was injured. There were so many questions that needed answers, but right at this point she just let herself be undone by him. Maybe she should have been angry still, but she found herself unable to think and feel anything but the greatest desire.
Kakashi held her steady when they were done, both on their backs on the floorboards. They hadn’t walked to the futon that was not far from them and had instead stayed on the hard ground, unable to make it one more metre for more comfort. The wild feeling had not yet passed completely, but Sayuri could feel her breath calm under his embrace, could feel herself ease into the crook of his neck. It was like this place had always been her place and in some way this might be true. After all, they had been branded soulmates.
“Come with me”, he whispered into her ear suddenly and she opened her eyes to turn to him. She had pulled the bandana from his head and let his hair fly down over his face in her frency, but he had kept his sharingan eye pressed shut all through it. It made her smile to think that he felt like this moment was too private to share with Obito, no matter how much Kakashi must miss him.
Sayuri reached her hand forward and ran her fingers through his hair: “Come with you, where?” She still had no idea where he had lived most of these years and he had not told her about it.
“I was in the Land of Iron” Kakashi explained and Sayuri moved away from him a little. The samurai land? Getting in there was surprisingly hard and usually foreigners were killed on sight. If he had lived there for so many years he must have been very lucky. But on the other hand this would explain why he missed so much of the world news. The samurai were notoriously against engaging with the outside world. “Turns out my mother is still alive there” he continued.
“Y-your mother..” She blinked at him. It worked with the stories she had heard of Sakumo staying away for a few years and suddenly returning with a son and no woman to show for. Maybe she’d stayed there. Maybe she hadn’t been permitted to leave.
Kakashi nodded: “Yes, she was there. I travelled around on my own for a while and then I heard rumours. I did some searching and finally found my way into the Land of Iron, which was very dangerous of course. She protected me though as soon as I found her.”
Not surprising that his mother would be a strong, independent warrior, Sayuri thought and her mind’s eye showed her her only far long gone memory of her mother. “She will protect you too if I bring you, I swear.”
“I’m not sure… I have responsibilities and… subordinates… and Gai…” Sayuri thought of Tenzo, her number two, who was like a brother to her and all the others that had been in her graduating class. If she would also disappear suddenly it would just open old wounds again. She squirmed away from him a little more, though his hand kept hold of her hips.
Kakashi smiled and she saw the kindness in his eyes: “If you want to contact them, we could do that. You could write them all about this, if you want. As long as you leave my mother out, at least for now.” He put his forehead against hers. “I just want you to be safe from him.”
Sayuri touched her own arm and let her own fingers run over the bruises. Her father would probably not care if she’d disappear. He would assume she had died and feel better because of it. Her friends however would surely worry, no matter how worthless she sometimes thought she was. She looked up at Kakashi and knew that he was sincere with what he was saying.
Maybe this was her destiny. They had been marked as soulmates after all. She leaned up to kiss him and he held a hand against her cheek.
“Fine. Let’s go home together.”
#fanfiction things#oc: sayuri#narutoocshipweek2022#naruto oc ship week 2022#like sayuri is also the one who killed rin in this scenario#in my head both kakashi and obito saw it happen but kakashi was too far away to she WHO did it#so he just has the mangekyou but he doenst know that it was here#this could lead to future issues#also makes her guilty as hell#and thats why she got into anbu just like kakashi would have anyway#after that incident was when he went to the land of iron#thats not mentione dhere but that was sort of my idea#meow#yes im uploading this early because nobody reads these anyway so the timing does not matter#does a little dance
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This is very random but like my one slight gripe with how qsmp is run is the lack of separation between 'in -lore federation' and 'admin'.
First of all the official recaps being in Lore Mode is a fun idea but because of that they deliberately leave out very important lore that the fed doesn't want to address within RP, meaning ppl who want to actually catch up on lore or get into it newly are missing a ton of info in what are supposed to be good recaps.
Perhaps more importantly the issue of in server rules. There's no distinction for the players of what is a rule created within RP by the fed that they can break for lore, and actual rules made for the security of the server function by admins. Which ends up with stuff like when Tubbo broke into the nether and caused a server crash. Like it hasn't caused Major major issues yet but I think that would be a very important distinction to make.
Idk this isn't like, crit, it's just me as someone who also runs a similar type of streamed MCRP server seeing it and going. This is not the way I would personally run things and I think it could potentially cause issues jjfxjxbb
#qsmp#genuinely i do not know why i am thinking about this so deeply it just feels like#idk it could very easily lead to issues in the future for them#obviously they can do whatever they want tho I'm just saying my thoughts
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anyway i clowned too close to the sun
#op#im sooo scared of leading ppl on or something.......#i have no clue whats normal with dating ive gone on like 2 dates with this guy and im talking to a woman as well and im like#is that morally incorrect#im leaning towards no hence me still being here but it feels strange but i also dont know whats normal#and whats allowed#guy & i havent discussed anything or done anything romantic/sexual yet#aside from . the dates but those were really just like friend vibes#the girl i just established with that we're both looking for romantic/sexual relationship#but also i met them both on a dating app so like#i think at this point its not anything yet but it could become an issue in the future#if anyone has thoughts. pls let me know#yay or nay . slay or nay#this is like a fun gameshow its like is! faulkner! being! unethical!
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#i fucking hate always being the one who has it worse than others#it alienates on so many fucking levels#you don’t have the energy to meet up with people bc you’ve had to solve already seven different life altering problems that week#as if you’re on a magic quest#oh and four of those you can’t do anything about bc world politics or finances or societal problems etc#the other three resurfaced some other things you already felt bad about four years ago and could never get rid off in your head#and then of course when people ask you how your xyz was and you either just shrug and lie and give the expected answer#or you tell them the truth how horrible this holiday was or how that thing everyone is supposed to enjoy was actually not possible for you#bc see above#of course ppl will also tell you their problems#but you won’t be able to help thinking ‘okay and…?’ bc quite honestly ppl are complaining about wild shit#where either the solution is ‘do something about it’ or it’s not actually more than a minor complaint in the first place#which leads to the dreaded gap of me thinking ‘i can’t believe you are complaining to me about that when you know i struggle w xyz’#‘and have been for 4 years. it has no future of getting fixed btw itll just always be like that why are you complaining about this bs to me’#or the other person finally remembering like. compatibility of certain issues and they just finish with#‘of course that‘s not half as bad as it is for you’#which they will start hating you for at some point definitely btw#bc they never get to complain about their little life which i understand#but like. i didn‘t choose this y’know#oh and btw they will still hold you up to their standards always#didn‘t clean your flat? didn’t fill out those documents in time? don’t have your life on track?#well that is clearly your fault#and has nothing to do w the circumstances that keeps them from rightly complaining about their own little problems to you#i’m so tired of it it’s so tiring i’m so exhausted#like girl i wish it was easier for me too y’know i’m not doing this for fun#barely holding on as is and then you have to take everyone’s little hurt feelings into account too#bc they’ll also judge you as negative nancy if you have nothing good to say when they ask you how it’s going#‘no one likes a negative attitude’ yeah i’m aware. i live this daily as i struggle to get by. thanks#.txt
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I finished writing my buffer chapters, so posting art for chapters will resume shortly. I’d not been wanting to write, just draw. But I can’t draw chapters if I have nothing to draw from lol
#i mean ig i COULD#but i dont wanna#thats scary and would lead to SO MANY issues down the line#writing#comic creation#comic series#webcomic creation#webcomic series#webtoon creation#webtoon series#fantasy#fantasy writing#our future fantasy
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Wakui really tryna make me stop slandering Mikey out here.
#like…ok listen tht chapter was sad af#the thing about Mikey is tht I always gave him some grace because he clearly went through shit to turn out how he did#and he knew he had issues but he still tried to be as good as he could with the morals he learned from the important ppl in his life#it was interesting to see that despite Mikey’s parents being in his life for a short period of time they still had such a significant impact#on him like the way he latched into being strong because his father appeared to be strong and because of the way his mother talked about him#he wanted to be more like his father#also interesting to note is that Mikey doesn’t seem to have his own identity? i used to scoff at ppl who made theories about him not knowing#who he truly is but this proves it because he adopts the character traits of ppl he cares about#he did so with his dad his brother Baji draken izana (funnily enough) etc in the future timelines#the relationship his mom had with his dad was odd tho#were they married.. were they still together when he died because if so tht means he cheated on her a little bit before he died since Emma#is a year younger than Mikey but the mom still talked about him like she loved him and even accepted Emma since Emma seemed genuinely hurt#over her death - I will say the mom was a bit ..weird why would you only talk about his father when you’re talking to your kid? why not#talk about yourself or talk to Mikey about things other than being strong I understand he was fixated on strength but she could’ve stirred#it away from being the constant topic of conversation when they talked like how he’s doing and how he can take care of himself mentally#she was good in telling him that being strong doesn’t mean you don’t cry tho#also something odd I noted was how Mikey said he hated weak guys who cried easily like…? thts literally shinichiro#and you made it seem like everything you did was as a result of your brother and tht you admired him so much#thts literally the only reason he cared about takemichi 😭 I just find it weird because by tht point shinichiro was the main one taking care#of him and Emma while in a gang and inspired him to be in a gang yet he hated ppl like him and seemed to even after seeing shinichiro lead#his own gang..#now onto the whole sanzu and Baji thing again I believe Wakui is shoehorning Sanzu into Mikey’s story because he was supposedly there from#the beginning yet wasn’t considered to be in the original toman and wasn’t close to Mikey like Baji was or draken was who he met later on#he can’t be like Mikey asked sanzu and he refused bc we see sanzu is up his ass so why wouldn’t he do it?#he can spin it like he thought sanzu was weak tho but again it wouldn’t make sense because how he was when he came in contact with Takemichi#would show he didn’t care and would be open to it - it just makes no sense#but whatever I wanna see how this goes because now we’re seeing Draken’s reintroduction and I can’t wait to see how he positively impacted#Mikey just like he did with mitsuya#tokyo revengers spoilers#Tokyo revengers 263
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#I'm having another one of those 'i want to kill myself' nights#I'm a financial burden to everyone in my life#between all my medical issues plus needing a wheelchair plus probably needing my wisdom teeth taken out#all of which are incredibly expensive#it's not fair to anybody to have to try to deal with me like this#I'm not worth going into fucking debt over and I'm not getting any better either so what's the fucking point#if i was gone I'd stop being so fucking expensive to just keep alive#not to mention with my medical stuff i have to 'work from home' now which isn't exactly stable income#there's no guarantee how much money I'll make or how soon I'll make it which wouldn't be fair to any future roommates#i want to be able to put in as much as they would. i want to be able to pay my share of the rent and have extra to chip in with#and I'd never be fit to be a husband or father. as much as i wish i could be i just know i can't do it.#I'm in pain all the time and can't do a lot. I'm not very strong. my memory issues make it hard to keep track of anything#not to mention I've got some issues that y'know. could lead to a higher risk of maternal mortality#so even if i tried i might just fucking die anyways#I'm far too expensive to take care of. i could never make enough in 10 lifetimes to pay people back. i could never be a husband or father.#I'm so tired of being a burden to everyone i love#they deserved so much better and i want them to be happy and i just don't see how me continuing to be around does any good#they'd all be so much better off without me i can't do anything and i could never give back as much as i want to#i want to put in an equal amount of effort and money and care and love#and i know I'm not doing that and i hate it and I'm trying so hard to get to a place where i can but nothing's working#I'm so tired of being a burden. i just wish i wasn't so fucking hard to take care of. i wish i didn't need to be taken care of at all.#things really would be better if i were gone. i don't think anyone could convince me otherwise#I'd stop being in so much pain all the time and the people i love wouldn't have to put up with my dead weight (no pun intended)#everyone's lives would be so much easier if i wasn't in them#gods how fucking selfish is it of me that i haven't done it already?#i don't deserve anybody's kindness and my friends and family don't deserve to put up with my bullshit anymore#i just want them to be happy#vent#suicide tw#suicide trigger warning
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the funny thing is that i don't think younger people - and i mean those under the age of 40 - really have a grasp on how many of today's issues can be tied back to a disastrous reagan policy:
war on drugs: reagan's aggressive escalation of the war on drugs was a catastrophic policy, primarily targeting minority communities and fueling mass incarceration. the crusade against drugs was more about controlling the Black, Latino and Native communities than addressing the actual problems of drug abuse, leading to a legacy of broken families and systemic racism within the criminal justice system.
deregulation and economic policies: reaganomics was an absolute disaster for the working class. reagan's policies of aggressive tax cuts for the rich, deregulation, and slashing social programs were nothing less than class warfare, deepening income inequality and entrenching corporate greed. these types of policies were a clear message that reagan's america was only for the wealthy elite and a loud "fuck you" to working americans.
environmental policies: despite his reputation being whitewashed thanks to the recovery of the ozone layer, reagan's environmental record was an unmitigated disaster. his administration gutted critical environmental protections and institutions like the EPA, turning a blind eye to pollution and corporate exploitation of natural resources. this blatant disregard for the planet was a clear sign of prioritizing short-term corporate profits over the future of the environment.
AIDS crisis: reagan's gross neglect of the aids crisis was nothing short of criminal and this doesn't even begin to touch on his wife's involvement. his administration's indifference to the plight of the lgbtq+ community during this devastating epidemic revealed a deep-seated bigotry and a complete failure of moral leadership.
mental health: reagan's dismantling of mental health institutions under the guise of 'reform' led directly to a surge in homelessness and a lack of support for those with mental health issues. his policies were cruel and inhumane and showed a personality-defining callous disregard for the most vulnerable in society.
labor and unions: reagan's attack on labor unions, exemplified by his handling of the patco strike, was a blatant assault on workers' rights. his actions emboldened corporations to suppress union activities, leading to a significant erosion of workers' power and rights in the workplace. he was colloquially known as "Ronnie the Union Buster Reagan"
foreign policy and military interventions: reagan's foreign policy, particularly in latin america, was imperialist and ruthless. his administration's support for dictatorships and right-wing death squads under the guise of fighting "communism" showed a complete disregard for human rights and self-determination of other nations.
public health: yes, reagan's agricultural policies actually facilitated the rise of high fructose corn syrup, once again prioritizing corporate profits over public health. this shift in the food industry has had lasting negative impacts on health, contributing to the obesity epidemic and other health issues.
privatization: reagan's push for privatization was a systematic dismantling of public services, transferring wealth and power to private corporations and further eroding the public's access to essential services.
education policies: his approach to education was more of an attack on public education than anything else, gutting funding and promoting policies that undermined equal access to quality education. this was, again, part of a broader agenda to maintain a status quo where the privileged remain in power.
this is just what i could come up with in a relatively short time and i did not even live under this man's presidency. the level at which ronald reagan has broken the united states truly can't be overstated.
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anti-curse
pairing: percy jackson x daughter of apollo!reader
summary: whether he knew it or not, percy jackson made the world a better, brighter place — and you intend to protect him, no matter what path the fates leads you down. fuck prophetic dreams. the future wasn't written in stone.
warnings/disclaimers: mentions of typical demigod things (battles, weapons, etc.); this is set during the heroes of olympus series so roughly follows that plot + features the seven demigods; mainly inspired by book!percy (dark hair, sea green eyes) bc that's the one i fell in love w growing up; characters are aged up from the book (reader + percy are meant to be 21-22 y/o) bc i imagine there was more time between prophecies/series....anyways, please enjoy <3
when you first met percy jackson, he almost shot you through the chest with an arrow.
given that apollo is your godly parent, you often found yourself at the archery field, which happened to be one of the first stops on percy’s tour of camp half-blood. after that first mishap, your other half-siblings were, understandably, too scared to let percy try again — frankly chiron seemed a bit hesitant as well — and you could sense that percy felt disheartened. so, you flashed the boy a reassuring smile before giving him a few pointers and a second chance. when he smiled back at you, you felt a fluttering in your stomach that told you percy jackson would be more than a little important in your life.
archery still wasn't percy's strong suit, but your gut feeling turned out to be true. you and percy had dealt with a lot since then — a handful of quests, several prophecies, more than a few near-death experiences, a titan war, and, maybe worst of all, high school. you couldn't imagine getting through any of it without him by your side, and you knew the feeling was mutual.
so, you were entirely anticipating that percy would be hurt by your announcement during dinner.
“no way that’s happening.” percy laughs, as if he can’t believe you’d suggest something as ridiculous as not having him accompany you on your quest. he remains unfazed, takes a sip of his electric blue coke before gesturing to the empty seat next to him. “come on, sunshine. have something to eat.”
the nickname sends your heart into a frenzy as you sit next to him. you and percy had never been anything other than friends, but sometimes....sometimes you look at his dangerous ocean eyes and wind-swept dark hair and it makes you blush. sometimes you consider the way his laughter fills you with warmth and his smile holds a thousand memories, the way he teases and winks at you and you decide that he makes your world so much brighter. sometimes you remember how sarcastic and thoughtful and loyal and reckless he is, his heart of gold and unpredictability of the sea. and you start to think that maybe possibly you'd fallen in love with your best friend.
that was not the issue at hand, though. you summon your favourite food and drink, but don't particularly feel like having either. percy returns to his conversation with hazel about how the two of you would drive up to montauk after you finally got your license, any time either of you needed to escape your reality, even just for a night. you'd sit on the beach, stargazing and roasting stale marshmallows and wishing to stay there forever. hazel seems to think that sounds like a nice escape, and percy promises that once the eight of you fulfill this prophecy, you'll all go to the beach house together, which makes hazel break out into a grin.
you can't help but smile at percy who loves his friends, who has loved you for so long. that feeling is quickly replaced by a pang in your chest that reminds you what's at stake. from the corner of your eye, you notice annabeth across from you, who looks at you like you’re a puzzle she can’t quite solve. you're trying to hide it, but if anyone can read you better than percy, it's annabeth. she knows something is weighing on your mind. you briefly lock eyes with jason, who you had gone to earlier for help, from the other side of the room, where he sits between piper and frank.
if you weren’t so distracted, you would have been able to enjoy dinner. the eight of you — all demigods of the current great prophecy — hadn’t been all together in a while, and it was nice to share a meal aboard the argo ii despite the reality of why you’d all been traveling together. leo had equipped the ship with magic plates and cups, and with the lively jokes and stories filling the air, you could almost imagine it was an ordinary summer evening at camp. you could almost forget that tomorrow, you had to go on a quest to rescue apollo and artemis from python, a monster so powerful your father barely defeated him thousands of years ago. you could almost ignore the impending war with gaea and the giants, and the doomed fate of the world if you were to fail. the one thing you could no longer ignore, however, is the gut feeling you have about the fate of the boy sitting next to you if your quest is to unfold the way you had first planned it.
you clear your throat, an attempt to interrupt the group's conversations.
“i was serious earlier,” you declare. “you’re not coming with me, percy. jason is.”
the smile percy had on his face fades. his eyes are filled with concern and disbelief, as he glances at you. “i – i don’t understand.”
"percy,” jason jumps in carefully, aware that he’s treading through dangerous waters like you had warned him. “y/n and i were strategizing earlier and it seems to make the most sense, given our powers combined."
percy shakes his head. “but — but you can’t just make last minute changes. we’ve already got everything set. right, valdez?”
leo shrugs, swallowing a mouthful of chicken before responding. “i don’t know, man. i’m no expert in quests, but it seems like i’m not the one who should be deciding this.” leo looks at you, and you nod gratefully.
you've been on edge since last night, and to calm your nerves you fiddle with the gold chain around your neck. it was a gift from your father: a necklace with a music note charm that can transform into an electric guitar or a bow and quiver. thankfully, you hadn't had to need both at the same time.
“it's up to me. and i want leo and jason to come with me.”
“then i’ll come too,” percy's voice remains calm, but insistant.
“isn’t there that thing about quests usually being done in threes?”
“that is true, piper,” percy agrees. he tilts his head towards you, like he's calling on you to remember. "exceptions have been made, though. like that one time with zoe." that had been years ago, when demigods from camp half-blood and hunters of artemis joined forces. five had been sent out on a quest, but only three came back. you shiver at the thought.
"or my quest through the labyrinth," annabeth recalls.
"but won't that also change our other plans, though?" hazel asks.
"not necessarily," you pipe in, your voice more assertive. "if jason and percy just switch. no harm done."
"we're not interchangeable," percy grumbles.
"hera sure seemed to think so!" leo searches the room for positive responses to his joke, but the most he gets is a half-hearted laugh from frank. "too soon?"
you take a deep breath. "it's not a big deal, really."
"it kind of is," percy counters. "you've never gone on a quest without me."
"you've gone on quests without me," you point out.
"that's...that's different."
"why? because i'm so weak that i need the son of the sea god to protect me at all times?"
you're giving percy the coldest stare you ever have. he hesitates to hold your gaze.
"you know that's not what i meant," he sighs.
"then what did you mean?"
percy looks at you, his eyes and tone softer. “look, sunshine, let's just stick with the plan, alright? we can just —”
“gods, you never listen, do you?" you finally snap. "you're not coming! i don’t want you there, percy!”
percy stares at you, stunned. you look around the table, and everyone looks back at you, wide-eyed. they weren’t used to this side of you, your sudden outburst not fitting in with your usually sunny disposition.
“well, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” leo jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood, with less than ideal results.
“you saw something in your dreams, didn’t you?” annabeth realizes.
her conclusion makes you freeze.
demigod dreams are always significant, carrying vivid images of monsters, messages from friends or enemies. some children of apollo like you had visions of the future — pseudo prophecies that are supposedly set to unfold given the path you’re on. technically, you weren’t supposed to share your visions, something about messing with fate or destiny, but that didn’t mean you had to accept the way things were.
what you saw in your dreams last night, what might happen to percy, made your blood run cold.
you would defy all the laws of the universe and divine rules if it meant you could protect him. so fuck the path the fates are attempting to lead you down, and fuck prophetic dreams. you refuse to let percy die. no matter how frustrated you’re acting towards him in this moment, you know he would still do the same for you.
you figure that the future isn't written in stone, right?
either way, you're willing to challenge destiny for percy jackson.
without answering annabeth, you get up from the table and take a deep breath, carefully avoiding percy’s gaze.
“i go with leo and jason, or i go alone.” your voice is steady, fighting the heavy beating of your heart and tears caught in your throat. “either way, i leave in the morning.” you exit the mess hall before anyone — before percy — can protest.
#Spotify#when i was younger i didn't think people would want to read all the stories i'd make up in my head about this series#so im glad the percy jackson renaissance is here#there's something so healing about writing + sharing this blurb even if i'm still nervous#might fuck around and write another part because i have so many ideas of where this could go#percy jackson#percy jackson x y/n#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo series#pjo fandom#pjo hoo toa#hoo#heroes of olympus#percy jackson x reader#percy jackson x you#pjo#saf writes#riordanverse
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Hi! I'm very interested in attempting to write a disabled character (not for this blog, I assure, for an book I'm writing) in which the story doesn't fetishize/objectify her prosthetic limb. I'm in many writing circles and have been for a long while, but I've never seen this issue brought to light which I realise is a very important one. I have much to change in my thought process, and thank you for bringing this issue to attention.
I'm curious, and I apologise if this has been asked before, but what sort of design could you see for a functional prosthetic that doesn't go for a plainly aesthetic appearance, or is soully to please others? I do note that you said prosthetics are generally... not that helpful. So is there a way that it could be? Or do you think it would always generally be better to not use a prosthetic, as its mostly for aesthetic purposes, as you said?
I apologise if this ask is too outright or anything, and I don't mean to intrude. Thank you for your time and have a beautiful day!
okay, i want to answer this as in depth as possible, because whenever i talk about having a prosthesis, someone will always tag some variation of "#writing reference" and i do wonder what message they're taking away, and i want to get as much of my experience out as possible to maybe help shape how this is all portrayed in the future. and yeah… this is gonna be one of those rambly smg posts that the expand feature was invented for, so i'll start with the very abridged TL;DR:
if you're writing a character with an upper limb prosthesis; don't. arm amputees are unicorn level rare even compared to leg amputees, and i've never interacted with or even heard of an upper limb amputee that regularly uses a prosthesis, let alone relies on one. fiction has lied to you for the sake of cool aesthetics, don't repeat the cycle. more in depth writing advice including nuance and "but i waaaant to" will follow.
that said, grab your donning parachute and let's get started...
context for everyone involved: i am an upper limb amputee that rants a lot about how prostheses suck, i lost my right hand roughly five years ago at roughly the age of 30 after a very rough decline in health… it was pretty rough. this question is being asked in the context of a previous rant post of mine, and i checked that the ask is about an upper limb prosthesis in particular.
the situation regarding the usefulness of lower limb prostheses is totally different; i am definitely no expert, but by all accounts, prosthetic legs are incredibly useful for many people. getting a good leg can be absolutely life changing and more or less necessary for day to day life for some; mostly because infrastructure and society is just so fucking hostile to wheelchair users. being able to walk - at the cost of pressure sores and rashes and increased residual limb pain - is a preferable option to many people than being unable to fit through a doorway or in a bathroom stall or find out that the key to unlock the only elevator is in the admin office up three flights of stairs (true story).
but upper limb prostheses… see, the thing is, hands are incredibly complex organs that rely on a lot of immediate haptic feedback to work at all. hand dexterity is all about control, you need fine granular movements of the digits yes, but you also need the subtle sensations of pressure and proprioception in order to adjust your movements on the fly. i speak from experience, in the years leading up to the full loss of my hand, i was slowly losing function of it, usually swinging between numbness that made it clumsy at best, or screaming overstimulation from moving it at all resulting in unpredictable spasms… and let me tell you, a half working hand is infuriating to try and deal with. you can never know if you have a good grip on something or if it's slipping because of the wrong amount of pressure, and there's only so many smashed bottles of pickles on the floor before you give up using it all together… so amputation wasn't a great loss there, i had time to adapt.
a prosthetic hand of any kind has all of those issues and more. they're heavy and bulky, the cosmetic faux fingers or gripping claw have crude movement at best, and there's zero feedback (put a pin in this). 100% of the time you're using a prosthetic hand you have to keep your eyes on the grip and visually guesstimate whether or not the thing you're carrying is held tight enough but not too tight, that is if your "heavy duty" prosthesis can even support the weight without the servos disengaging or the wrist attachment socket just busting loose. i dropped a whippersnipper on my foot last week when my socket couldn't take the weight and i think that was the final straw in me desperately trying to prove to myself that there is a single task my prosthesis actually helps with.
this is usually where fully two handed people start talking about bleeding edge DARPA tech, and how we just need to invest more,research more, develop more. better tech, more tech, neural integration, more more more. okay i promise the writing advice is coming! for starters on tech, my experience is already with a mid-to-high end ottobock terminal device: i've got a myoelectric nerve-signal operated proportional control heavy duty greifer; about the only upgrade left for me to get would be a rotating wrist joint if i could coflex. it's not military, it's not "rockclimber that owns a prosthetic company", but it's quality tech. it still fucking sucks. secondly, that high level military tech exists primary for PR purposes so they can say they treat their discarded casualties well, "we can rebuild him, we have the technology" style. every war vet i've read about or heard from that's been gifted that high level tech also abandons it for the same reasons; it's imprecise, there's no feedback (or the haptic interface has to be fully recalibrated every time they put it on), but mostly they're more capable without one.
okay, the transhumanist ableds say (i should know, i used to be one), what if we did more ~research and development~ and got that neural feedback working? then we could have fireproof superhumanly strong robot arms to fix up everyone! here's where i take out that pin we put up before and i tell you that a class of prosthetic arms/hands already exists that has perfect proportional control, fine motor control, and physics perfect pressure feedback piped directly into the patients' existing sensory systems! they're called body-powered prostheses, and they were invented in like the 1600s. you strap a whole bunch of stuff to your arm and shoulders shoulders, and control the operation of the terminal device and elbow through cable tension by flexing your shoulders. they do take a considerable amount of training to operate - though hell i spent 18 months training to use my myo - but based on everything i've read, body-powered prostheses are the best option if you're an upper limb amputee and absolutely need a second hand for some reason.
but they don't look cool and futuristic, and according to my prosthetist, most people give up on using them too. we all give up on our prostheses, no matter the type. my rehab OT was impressed i lasted the 18 months of my training. towards the end, they even asked if the clinic director could drop in to one of my sessions to see my progress; he expressed genuine amazement at me casually using my bulky robot claw to use a brush and dustpan, and made an offhanded (hah) comment about what someone can achieve "if they stick it out to the end", implying it was somewhat of a rarity for me to have done so. several years on, and yesterday i wedged the dustpan between my ankles to sweep up into it, awkward but exponentially less effort than putting my dusty robot arm on. which, by the way, is a whole thing. look up some videos, they're all awful to don. i don't actually know the official technical name of what my clinic calls a "parachute" but it's a bitch to use! have you ever tried to pull back with your arm whilst also pushing it forwards at the same time, and simultaneously lean in to and away from an external force pulling on you? that's how you get a myo socket on.
bare with me, i promise writing advice is coming, and i promise it's more than the tl;dr. but. remember when i said a half working hand is infuriating to deal with? any prosthesis, from fancy myo tech to pirate-era body powered, will only ever be half as good as a working hand, and being juuuust within capability to do something but not quite able to is maddening! but you know what works way better than a half working hand? no hand at all. using whatever residual/vestigial limb you have - whatever "stump" you have, i hate that word - is pretty much always better than trying to use a prosthesis. i can use the inside of my elbow to grip and carry things, i can use the nub of my arm to apply pressure to hold things, open doors, use a computer mouse, turn on taps and lights, if i put a glove over it i can use it to prep for cooking. i have full proprioception and pressure feedback with skin contact, i don't think i've ever dropped and broken anything from my elbow, unlike countless things slipped from my greifer - which, by the way, absolutely will start clenching as tight as it can if i get even slightly too sweaty around the electrodes, which has both broken things i'm holding and also injured me, because surprise surprise but servo operated robot claws have pinch points on them right near the "emergency disengage" lever for some reason!
but i am exponentially more capable without it on than with it. no, i'm not fully independent, i rely on housemates and loved ones to help me out with some tasks that simply just need two handed dexterity, but none of those tasks are things a prosthesis makes me able to do anyway. i used to imagine my prosthesis would be like a bra; a bit awkward and uncomfortable, but i'd wear it throughout the day because it's helpful and take it off in the evening to decompress. in reality it's actually exactly like a bra: an absolute bitch to put on one handed, unbearably uncomfortable because it never sits right, ugly af unless you're a millionaire, and absolutely useless except for the fact that i get gawked at and judged by strangers if i leave the house without it on.
and if you really want to discover how far "no hand is better than a half working hand" goes, brace yourself, and look up the patient's stories (not medical system stories) of people that have had hand transplants. the first man to receive one hated it, he was promised a return to normal function, and what he got was a nightmare worse than being one handed; he wanted it removed again but the doctors refused because it would undermine their grand achievement of the first hand transplant. the doctors and society wanted him to be fixed, they wanted him to be normal, they wanted him to be abled. they failed. they made him less able to do things, denied his autonomy, and left him with someone else's hand slowly rotting on him, prioritising the idea of "scientific progress" and "two hands good" over the physical health, mental health, and ability to function of this man.
he's not alone; every story from the patients' perspective about hand transplants that i've read goes this way, including a woman who was born quad limb different and was promised hands would improve her life, pressured into a double hand transplant, only to find herself after the surgery essentially experiencing disability for the first time ever, because she had lived her whole life getting by just fine with her 'underdeveloped' limbs, but half working hands are worse than useless. you can try to find these stories yourself, but i'm not going looking for sources on any of these cases, because if you look back through enough of my posts you'll get a glimpse of the horrors and abuses that i too was put through by doctors who prioritised trying to "fix" me at any cost, rather than providing me the best quality of life, and in turn traumatised me and left me more broken than any loss of limb on its own could. dear goddess, i promise the writing advice is coming.
so. why do upper limb prostheses exist at all? if they're so terrible and useless, what is their function? i want to borrow something someone else left in the tags of a previous rant here, from someone who i believe works in prosthetics and/or rehab, cleaned up and anonymised at their request:
"upper limb functions are wildly more complex than: 1) bear weight static, and 2) bear weight moving.
but every single upper limb amputee i know has a fancy expensive prosthetic just gathering dust in the closet because there is literally nothing it can do like a few years of adjustment and if needed non-dominant hand retraining can't do.
the existence of forquarter prosthetics to begin with is just kind of silly and useless and entirely to make OTHER people feel comfortable, especially considering they universally are UNcomfortable for the amputee.
i hate the notion that as soon as you get the amputation the prosthetic is The Thing That Will Fix You And Make You Feel Normal again because it universally isn't!
but every forequarter person i know had like this ideal of Being Fixed By Magic Prosthetic that they were then obviously wildly disappointed by and had to do yet another grieving process with, versus if the dominant narrative were just one of: yeah. it'll take time, there is no magic fix."
and i think that really nails down what the actual purpose of upper limb prostheses is: they're not for the user, they're for the sake of other people. and not just their comfort when looking at our bodies, although based on the pressure for both amputees and people born limb different to get functionless cosmetic plastic hands, there is a lot of that. but it's not just that.
i fully believe that the reason prosthetic hands exists is to comfort the fears of the two handed. "don't worry", they say, "we can fix you again. you don't have to fear becoming Disabled, you don't have to worry about adapting or your life changing. we can make you Normal™ again."
you would not believe the number of people that have approached me to shower me with pity, to tell me how horrific my life is, how they can't imagine it. people have told me, apropos of nothing, that they'd kill themselves if they lost a hand. indirectly, that my life isn't worth living. unless, of course, i happen to be wearing my cool as fuck looking robot prosthesis! then they tell me how wonderful it is, how lucky i am, how glad they are that we have the technology to fix me. that's what a prosthetic hand says, what all the happy fishing photos on limbs4life posters at the rehab clinic say: don't worry, we can fix you. that's what the bleeding edge DARPA flexi-whatever fully articulated neuro-feedback hands say: don't worry if you get IED'd while hunting civilians for us to drone bomb, if you get hurt, we will fix you, we will fix the fuck out of you, we will motherfucking adam jensen you into a cool as fuck cyborg that your son will idolise; come on boys, don't you wanna enlist just for the chance at being as cool as this? join the bomb squad for a ticket to the upgrade lottery.
and so we arrive at fiction. as much as his dialogue options protest, adam jensen loves his robot arms, they punch through walls, turn into fucking swords! they make him the most special man in the world. what would he do without them? learn to cope? grieve? practice acceptance? take up poetry? just, be disabled? there's no power fantasy for ableds in that.
in fact, can you think of a single fictional character that's an upper limb amputee that's, well, just an amputee? they all have robot arms. not realistic prostheses, not medical devices; robot arms. sleek or bulky, top of the line or broken down self built, steampunk or nanomachines or magitech automail; they're never without them. never just an amputee. never born limb different either! there's always that element of tragedy to overcome, always suffering and misery porn, always focus on the pain and the helplessness without the absolutely vital robot arm that makes them Normal and Whole. the closest amputee example i can think of is furiosa from mad max, who iirc fucking punches max in the face with her residual limb like a motherfucking badass! i can barely lean on mine wrong and she punches a guy! but she still apparently needs a dieselpunk robot hand to drive a truck, something you can do one handed so easily most drivers don't even notice they're doing it! please don't, by the way
and so many disabled fans love to point to robot armed characters as disability representation; the winter soldier, luke skywalker, edward elric, misty knight, that genderswapped furry girl from ratchet and clank, jet cowboybebop, finn the human, and yes, adam jensen…. these are all characters that someone disabled i know has told me they love because they "represent disabled bodies"…. and i know nobody wants to hear this, because i've been screamed at for saying it before, but… they do not. they are not disabled, functionally or within fiction. they are either perfectly able bodied Normal people with chrome paint on an arm, or tortured misery porn we are supposed to pity and feel lucky we're not them. sometimes both!
also you ever notice how it's basically always arms? lower limb amputations are orders of magnitude more common than upper, my prosthetist said i was probably only the 4th or 5th upper limb she'd worked with in her career, with literally hundreds of lower limb fits. but fiction doesn't seem to reflect that, huh? or any other part of the reality of disability. it's always cool as fuck robot arms, never cool as fuck wheelchairs or crutches or dialysis machines or colostomy bags. a fair few "i was blind but now i can see with Robot Eyes and also infrared and xray" around, which again, plays into that "we can fix you and make you cooler" propaganda.
by the way, up above when i was describing body powered arms, if you wondered to yourself why i went with a myoelectric one instead when i clearly believe body powered is better… yeah. i am not immune to propaganda! i too wanted to be cool as fuck. i spent years with deteriorating function in my hand for reasons that are still unknown, was misdiagnosed and medically neglected to the point that removing my hand seemed to be the only option left to offer some relief, and even that was a clusterfuck that left me worse than ever… of course i wanted to believe in the power and prestige of a cool robot arm that fiction promised me.
but fiction promises fantastical lies. and so.
we get to the writing advice portion of the novella that is this post. you asked for advice on how to write a disabled character with an upper limb prosthesis. you've read the tl;dr, you've read everything above i assume, you know i don't want you to do it. the obvious twist is that it's been writing advice all along, me trying to share my perspective on what it's like being an amp with a robot arm and how shitty it is, implying how almost any fully realised and realistic character that's missing an upper limb would give up on a prosthesis at all. you can already tell that every value judgement in me says "don't give her a prosthesis, no matter how functional or cool you make it. don't try to make the tech better to justify it, just let her be one armed, one handed. just let her be disabled, but not helpless. let her show off her elbow or underarm carry strength. let her love interest appreciate how soft and squishy her residual limb is in a moment of tenderness. let her natural disabled body be respected and valued."
but that's a personal value judgement from me, and you are the author of your own work. i know it's trite to say, but you are! even the act of deferring to someone with lived experience in the hope of doing a better job at representation is a value judgement, a good choice in my opinion, but one you needn't necessarily take. maybe you do want to write a character that has a cool as fuck unrealistic robot arm as a power fantasy, or a comfort blanket… i did.
i've been slowly writing my own probably terrible scifi epic for over a decade now, and when my arm was giving me hell back then, i'd take great comfort in this fantasy of my protagonist with her chunky robot arm, the terrible traumatic suffering of her loss, overcoming, the power and ability her advanced prosthesis gives her over others, that she alone has access to, because others are not willing to make the sacrifices required. inspiration porn. awful stuff to me now, but empowering to me then. as i grew and gained direct experience, i slowly reimagined her, rewrote her, ship of theseus'd her into an entirely new character; a reflection of me now, bitter at the whole thing, spiteful that her natural flesh arm evokes fear and distrust, but unwilling to suffer the pain and frustration of her unnatural prosthesis just to make others comfortable and respect her as "whole", however artificial that whole is. and as with the ship of theseus being two ships, once i realised the transformation, i re-added the old protagonist back in whole cloth as a separate character; proud of her robot arm and its power, but in new context, as a foil and antagonist, an in-universe military prosthesis propaganda figure to reflect how i now feel characters like her exist to us, the readers.
i'm not just sharing that as egotistical self promotion, but to highlight that, even if i sit here begging you all up and down not to write characters with robot arms for how bad and unrealistic they are; there's still something genuine and true that their inclusion can say. the great thing about the story that you're writing is that only you can write it, as they say. but i whole heartedly believe that to write to your best, you have to be aware of what you're writing and why. as tempting as it is to feel these characters form naturally in us and therefore we're averse to changing traits about them that feel organic and self evident; as authors we have omnipotent control over the text, every trait and detail is a reflection on us, so we'd sure as hell better understand why we're choosing to write a character with this trait. because anything you write without being aware of intent will take on its own meaning in the space between.
and on that note, if i don't say this, i'm leaving it to be inferred: i definitely don't want to appear to come down on the side of saying "you cannot write an amputee unless you are one", because we are rarer than single young bisexual unicorns! and it would be a tragedy if anyone read through all this and then turned away in fear, deciding to never write an amputee character (with or without robot arm) because they feel they can't do it justice… believe me, no matter what anyone says, some hack writer somewhere is going to keep writing adam jensens and winter soldiers. don't let them be the only voices in fiction! just try to do your best.
so my ultimate advice on the topic of writing a character with a prosthetic limb is to ask yourself one question in two different frameworks, and meditate on what you feel the answer is:
why does she have a prosthesis?
from a doylelist perspective as the kids say, as an author with omnipotent control, why are you choosing to write about this topic? why are you choosing to give this trait to this character? what does it say about how you view ability and disability, what makes a person normal, and what our society values? will you let her be in her natural body? or will you give her a prosthesis, force her to wear it by authorial fiat, or author her a meaningful reason to choose to? if yes, be sure you know; why did you give her a prosthesis?
and from a wastonian perspective, diegetically, inside the story, why does she choose to wear a prosthesis? what does it say about her inner character, and how she interacts with the world? how does she feel about doing it, is she prideful and loves the attention she gets, or does she resent whatever necessitates its use? how do people in this world view ability and disability, what does this society value? and above all, whatever the answer to these questions, whether or not she uses a prosthesis or is badass without one, how does she deal with the eternal freezing cold that every amputee ever feels constantly in their residual limb and why does nobody make a heat pack that fits over a nub without drafty gaps???
i can't outright tell you how to write a good upper limb amputee, but if you at least know why you're writing one and for what purpose, you're on track to write the best character that you can. that's the best advice i can give… other than, like, this whole rambly mess.
and, as a reward for reading this far, please have a very blurry cryptid photo of my cat doing his old man sit:
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Sunrise
Astarion x female reader/Tav
Rating: Explicit
You must be 18 years or older to interact with this post in any way
Word Count: 5.7k
Tags: smut, slight end game spoilers, Astarion good ending spoilers, mentions of past abuse/abuser, sex, piv sex, oral sex, cuteness, fangs, biting, over-stimulation, bleeding, blood, blood drinking
Summary: Astarion and the reader share an intimate morning together as they contemplate their past, present, and future together.
Read on AO3
It's the early hours of dawn, just before sunrise. The sky was deep purple just an hour ago, but now it’s transforming into shades of indigo and blue. A faint glow threatens to spill over the city walls, to wash away the final vestiges of night. It's been a while since you've greeted the sun like this, not that you never see her at all anymore. After all, if something needs done during the daylight, you take care of it without issue. But that's all business. Just fleeting glances as you move through the crowded streets of Baldur's Gate. This right now, during the quiet hours of dawn, this is pleasure. This is you waking, nude, on the forest floor after your first night with Astarion. This is the sun’s rays warming your bodies before the two of you sneak back into camp. This is Astarion’s eyes glinting in the light, like that shared goblet of Arabella Dry at the Tiefling party.
Your heart yearns for the sun like you yearn for the past. You see your small smile reflected in the window as you continue to watch the sky change. A dozen-dozen heartbeats pass, and then the soft golden honey of the morning sun caresses the rooftops of the city, before spilling down onto the streets below. The heartache in your chest fades to nothing as the sun fully crests the horizon to kiss your face, a mere phantom in comparison to what you have now. The moment is over for you. You’ve had your fill and you begin to feel the fingers of sleep coaxing you to rest.
“Do you miss it, darling?" Astarion calls out to you from your bed, well out of view from the sun. "The daylight that is.”
Untying your silk robe, you let the soft fabric slip from your shoulders to pool at your feet. Both the sun and your lover lovingly gaze at your sun dappled curves. "It's strange," you muse, holding your hand up as if to catch the morning light. "I have so many memories of you in the sun, but no. You're the only thing I ever miss." You take a few moments, eyes squinting through the brightness to watch the people begin to fill the streets before pulling the heavy curtain firmly close. “And besides–” You turn to your love. He’s artfully draped himself, nude, across the plush pillows that adorn your bed. A deliberate attempt at making himself look all the more enticing. “How could the sun ever hope to compete with my dear Astarion’s beauty?”
He beams at your compliment, practically preening at the attention. Reaching out, he proffers his hand for you to take. It fits neatly in his as you let him pull you, gently leading you back to bed, back to him. It's a gallant gesture as your eyes readjust to the darkness of the room. A yawn begins to creep its way up and you only just manage to stifle it as Astarion draws your back to his chest. His pale, strong arms wrap around you as he presses you close, holding you tight. There weren't any cuddles the first night, or in the weeks that followed as you let him feed on you, but back then there wasn't anything real between you at all. Just lies and illusions and unending uncertainty. But somehow, by some miraculous blessing, you were able to earn his trust, just as he earned yours.
“Now you know that’s not what I meant, darling.” He leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek. “Though, please continue to remind me of how beautiful I am. Your words almost make up for how useless mirrors are to me.” You hear the smirk in his tone alongside the underlying truth. Uncertainty. As much as Astarion tries to hide his past pain, to pretend he’s fine and not hurting, you know the scars will never truly leave. Even after death, Cazador still manages to find a way to torture Astarion, and it drives you fucking insane with rage. It takes you a moment to collect your feelings. There’s no room for this in the bedchamber, or in your heart. Anger and sorrow will do nothing but more harm and that’s the last thing you wish to bestow upon Astarion. All he wants–all he needs is an answer to the question he left unasked. It's not difficult for you to understand. He wants to make sure you don’t regret your decision to stay with him–worried that he’s not enough. He’s worried if this is what you truly want. That he’s not trapped you, or worse, that you’re staying with him out of some fucked up feeling of guilt or pity. He won’t admit that he’s terrified of hearing your answer even if he knows in his heart what it’ll be. That’s why he doesn’t ask what he really wants to know. That’s why he wears his mask of smiles as he plays with your hair between his dexterous fingers. He’s content to pretend, but there’s no way you can leave him like this. Just floundering inside his heart while he holds you in his arms. For the briefest moment you’re almost tempted to fall asleep like this. Wrapped in Astarion’s embrace, snuggled peacefully in your bed together, but you know that after all this time, a part of Astarion still seeks your assurance.
“I miss it, the sun, the people, our friends–” Astarion freezes, as still as a statue, and suddenly the room feels cold. His muscles jerk in a way that alludes to him not knowing whether or not to pull away or hold you tighter. Reluctant to let you slip away from him, he’s afraid that this will be the last time he has to hold you. Silly elf. “But it’s not in the way you think, my love. It’s purely nostalgia. I was just reminiscing about our early days. When we first met, when we first had sex, traveling together, and unsure which day was going to be our last." Your mind drifts, gravitating to fonder memories. “The first time we made love. Your grave. I–,” The threat of tears begins to rise in your throat so you cut yourself off. Again, there is no sadness in you. Just the overwhelming feeling of love for Astarion. Of feeling like you’ve found the place you both belong.
"I wouldn’t stop you, darling. I won’t keep you here, all for myself, if that is something you no longer wished for. If you ever–do decide you've had enough of me. Or even if you could no longer stand to spend your waking hours in the cold night. I would understand."
"Astarion!" The incredulity in your tone is a good mockery of Astarion’s own frequent ostentatiousness. He’s gone too far. This line of teasing isn’t any fun and, truthfully, it hurts to imagine leaving after striving so hard to live your life together. After ensuring your love is real, and strong, and brighter than any sunrise you could imagine. You move to chastise him quickly, turning in his arms as best you can to face him. Pressing your palms to his chest, you glower, face set into an angry scowl before you realize. His red eyes are overflowing with sorrow and self-loathing. And all at once, your anger melts into nothing. “My love,” you whisper as you press chaste kisses to the shadows under his eyes, and even though you’re the one being held, you wrap your arms around Astarion’s neck to bring him close. Your bodies move instinctually, the embrace being frequent and familiar as Astarion rests his lips against your neck. You card your fingers through his silky curls. There’s no intention of feeding at the moment, though. It’s just the two of you basking in your gentle love, relaxing into the moment.
“Do you remember, before making it back to Baldur’s Gate together, that godforsaken shadow cursed land we had to traverse?”
“Shit, don’t remind me.” Astarion scoffs, pulling back to look at you. His eyes roll in mirth, fangs flashing from behind his lips. “I know our dear Shadowheart was right at home with all the doom and gloom, and while I too am a fan of darkness and the macabre–I prefer to be the only creature lurking in the night, hunting for their next meal. That entire place was far too crowded for my tastes.”
“Not to mention Raphael, or the horrors of the Cult of the Absolute,” you trivialize in jest.
Astarion leans in close. His soft lips brush over the sensitive skin of your neck as he speaks. “Or that vile drow who sought to use me because of what I am.” The venom in his voice is dampened by the reverence in the kiss he places on your neck. “There is only one person I feed on and I have her right–here.”His hand is in your hair, his breath is hot on your neck, and your heart is suddenly choking you, pounding in your throat. His fangs barely scrape your skin and you know that you only have to say the word–.
“Yes,” you breathe. There’s never any pain. Just a light pressure as Astarion’s fangs sink softly into your flesh, and then a swooping sensation as your blood is being pulled to his lips. The familiar feeling of lightheadedness begins to return. It’s nothing light that first night. No, this is controlled, worshipful even as he savors your blood on his lips and tongue. You don’t need to tell him to stop before your fingers go numb and your heart flutters in protest. He’ll stop long before there’s any danger, no matter how much he may tease otherwise. It’s easy to relax and go limp, trusting Astarion fully as he cradles your body reverently.
Far too soon Astarion stops feeding from you. “Delicious,” his moan makes you shiver. Blood begins to slowly trail from your twin puncture wounds, painting your neck crimson. Astarion isn’t one to waste a precious gift that you offer so freely to him, however. He makes quick work of the mess. Devouring it all until it’s just his tongue on your skin, traveling the length of your neck, chasing the way your body shivers. Overwhelmed from the unique mixture of pleasure and pain that makes your head spin and your body hot. Gods, you love this man. He’s so, he’s just so, so–
“W–wait. Astarion, wait,” you weakly plead for his attention, grabbing at his shoulder. You feel him smile before scraping his teeth on your skin, refusing to stop. The devious vampire did this on purpose and he knows he’s been caught red-handed, or well, rather red-lipped as he continues to playfully bite at you. Astarion just hums into the curve of your neck, refusing to acknowledge that he’s been found out. “Hey!” You laugh defeatedly as Astarion kisses the shell of your ear. “Stop trying to distract me!”
Astarion’s lips find your jaw before traveling over your cheekbones. You close your eyes and he places kisses there as well before finding your mouth. Trying his very best to lure you into parting your lips for him. “I rather think you’re the distracting one, my dear.”
“I’m trying to tell you something and I want you to listen, please.” Glaring, you hold his red gaze in yours and his perfect, bloodstained lips fall into a pout that’s just a little too perfect. Another ploy. Your head is still slightly spinning, but through sheer force of will you begin to collect your thoughts. The need to kiss away his frown, however sly it might be, is strong, but he needs to hear what you have to tell him. “As sad and as miserable as that entire place was–if for some reason that’s where you were, where Astarion decided to be, I would also–”
“You mustn't worry about that, darling. I wouldn’t be caught dead, or rather, undead in a place like that ever again.”
“Hush,” You try to quiet him by pressing your fingers to his lips. A poor decision in hindsight as Astarion instantly kisses them. Running his tongue along your fingertips, trying his hardest to distract you once more. “Stop! Listen–just wait a second. I’m trying to be sweet to you.”
“Oh, I know exactly just how sweet you are.” Astarion’s voice drops as he slips into seducing you. “So much so that I rather think I’d like another bite.”
“Yes, yes. I know. Your “little treat”.” Reclaiming your fingers from Astarion’s greedy mouth, you cup his too handsome face. Willing him to listen to you. “The only thing I wish for in life, in death, in whatever time I’m given, is to be with you. Wherever and however I can. I love you and never once have I regretted my love or wished it away.” You’ll tell him of your love every second of every day if that’s what it takes. If that’s what makes him smile like this, dazzling and warmer than anything the sun has ever graced you with. You stretch your head up and kiss him. You kiss him and kiss him and kiss him. You kiss him until the need for air demands your attention and you break free to refill your lungs.
Astarion rests his forehead to yours, curly locks obscuring his hungry gaze underneath, as he catches his breath. Your chests heave in unison, breathing life into the fiery tension blazing between your bodies. One moment you’re both still, wrapped in each other's embrace, and the next the room spins as Astarion wraps a leg around your hip, rolling you until you lay on your back. He’s straddled your hip, pinning you underneath. His eyes are hungry as he looms over you, his disheveled curls haloing him in the dim light. Astarion drags a hand down your collarbone, delicately tracing the veins under your skin before gently cupping your breast. A flick of his wrist has you gasping as he plays with your nipple. You can’t help but thrust your hips up, seeking the attention that Astarion is teasing. He ignores your silent plea, stilling his hand until you follow suit.
“You’re not playing fair.” You halfheartedly complain, willing your body to calm.
“I never promised that I would, my sweet.” You don’t know what god or goddess you should pray to to thank them for bringing you Astarion, but you’re a devout believer. “Now stay still, or I might bite.” He flashes his fangs at you. It’s not a real threat. He’d never actually bite you without your consent, but the tease still sends shivers down your spine. Coursing through your body until they land, pulsing deeply in your cunt. Astarion leans forward, an illusion of a predator cornering their prey. His soft cock begins to harden as he cups your face in both of his hands. Cradling you as if you’re something breakable, something precious. Astarion swipes his thumb across your cheek as he stares into your eyes–as if it’s the first time he’s seen the sunrise. “I love you.”
Astarion pounces, taking you down with a devastatingly deep kiss. If kisses were ambrosia you’d have been drunk ages ago. And still you want more. You need more of him. His heart, his touch, gods above, you need his cock that’s pressed between your thigh and his abdomen, but Astarion refuses to stop kissing you or to move into a more accessible position. He slides his tongue into your mouth, licking you open until you writhe and squirm with a need that burns so hot it overpowers your senses. But even still, Astarion doesn’t relent. He presses on, moving from your mouth back down to your throat where he begins to suck bruises to your sensitive skin. Out of pure desperation, you grasp at his back until your fingers graze his scars before moving to grip his shoulders. You clutch him to you just as passionately as he kisses you. It takes everything inside of you not to bust and fade away into the Weave as Astarion uses his weight to keep you pinned to the bed. His lips move from your throat and for one solitary second you think he might give you what you need, but no. Instead, he works his way along your jaw, tracing you with his mouth until he finds the place under your ear that drives you wild.
“Fuck–please! Astarion—” His cock, hard and weeping now, rests on your stomach. Pressed between your bodies as Astarion rolls his hips. Clenching, you feel your arousal dripping out to stain the sheets below. You’re wet, so unbearably wet and empty and aching for him to fill you. You’re pleading and your moans do nothing to sway the elf, though you know the bastard hears you. His pointed ears twitch as you cry out for him, but he continues to hold you down. Unwilling to pull back even an inch to separate himself from you. You manage to angle your arm just enough to get a solid handful of his hair, and begin to pull. Slowly but firmly enough that his head raises just enough to make eye contact, and as you do, you feel his cock throb with need. He likes this.
“Oh fu–ck!” Astarion’s shameless cry comes out sticky sweet from his throat, Adam’s apple quivering prominently. He sounds drunk. He looks it too. The expression on his face is close to ecstasy before you accidentally lose your hold on his hair. Too turned on and thoroughly debauched to be able to concentrate on keeping your grip. Not when he shifts his hips to create a delicious friction between your slick pussy and his engorged cock. You chase the feeling, grinding against him as best you can, but to no avail. You’re still pinned beneath him. Hips and thighs locked. Both you and Astarion are reduced to base instincts as his rigid cock slides over your clit once more before contact is lost. This isn’t fucking working. You’re only briefly aware of the pillows being pushed to the floor, shoved away by Astarion to make better room for your head, before his hand reaches down. He shifts and forces your leg over his hip. He’s a man consumed by desire. His need for you.
Astarion hovers over you, his crimson eyes piercing you through your heart as you reach for him, aiming to pull him back down for another taste of his ambrosia lips. Instead he captures your hand in his and pulls it to his bloodstained mouth. He sweeps gentle kisses over your knuckles before intertwining his fingers with yours and pins it to the mattress. His other hand finds your thigh, grasping tightly before guiding your knee to your chest. Opening and exposing your pussy for him to slide his cock against your entrance. “That’s it darling,” he encourages you. Praising you as he slides against you, slowly dragging his cock along your wet slit. The head of his cock catches, and without hesitation, Astarion presses in. It’s blissful and devastating as Astarion finally fucking fills you. Sliding in on one long stroke to fully seat you on his cock. He doesn’t pull out, just gently grinds against you. His smooth skin and throbbing cock caressing you until your breath leaves. Whisked away by your lover, leaving you with blurry vision and a spinning room. “Now, now. We can’t have that.” Astarion rolls his hips, wonderfully grinding against your folds and bringing friction that your clit so desperately desires. The sensation makes you gasp, forcing you to gulp down air, reminding you that you’re here–now. Very much alive and not in heaven, no matter how much it feels like you are.
“Astarion–”
You’re not sure if he’s listening. Flaming eyes and a silent snarl are all that he gives you besides a deep guttural moan as he continues to fuck you. It’s slow and brutal and entirely different from any performance he puts on. This isn’t Astarion trying to pretend to be anything other than the vampire–the man that he is. Desperate and extraordinarily dangerous as he claims you for himself. Your orgasm taunts you. Haunting you from the edges, and you want it so fucking bad, but you also couldn’t care any less. It’s now, it’s this moment, it’s Astarion who holds your attention in his iron grasp. Ruining you with his love. You hear the wet sounds of your pussy as he fucks into you. Pushing more of your arousal out of your cunt with his cock. He lets go of your hand and leans in close, snaking his arm under the small of your back. Using his vampiric strength, Astarion pulls on you, just enough that your hips shift to a new glorious angle. One that has him hitting a spot that makes you go feral underneath him as his pelvis grinds against your clit on every stroke. He keeps his other hand firmly under your knee, pushing your leg into a position that stretches your hips. It all feels so fucking good.
Astarion’s taut, muscular body moves over you. He’s graceful even now as he holds you, fucking you rhythmically. You clench around him, wordlessly asking him for more, and he raises his head. Fangs snapping in the air, muscles tensing in his neck as Astarion tries hopelessly to hold on to his senses. A half-baked idea forms in your dazed brain. You don’t stop to think it through, you can’t. You just act, throwing your arm around Astarion’s neck, pulling him close until you have him right where you want him. You sink your blunt teeth into the side of his neck. Your vampiric imitation pales in comparison to the true thing. Only biting hard enough to bruise his delicate moonlight skin. The moment you bite down on Astarion’s neck, you feel his cock throbbing inside of you. His breath hitches in your ear as you press your tongue against his skin and a soft moan escapes his lips.
“Fuck–” he growls through gritted fangs. Dropping your leg, Astarion moves his hands to the curve of your hips. Holding on tight, and pinning you down as you continue your mock feeding. “Fancy yourself a vampire now, darling?” You bite down harder in agreement and Astarion melts in your arms. Moaning as you claim him as yours in return. “I think not,” he protests, and for a second you think it’s an empty threat. It feels like he’s close, like he’s struggling to keep from falling over the edge. That is until he starts to move again, fucking your pussy like a goddamn promise. “I’m the only blood sucker you’ll find in this bed, darling, and I’m going to eat you right up.” Before you know what’s happened, Astarion has hold of both your legs, knees propped over his strong shoulders. He circles your aching clit with his thumb as he savagely fucks you. Tits bouncing from the force, sliding you up the bed on every thrust. You feel the spit that streaks your lips as you gasp out for him. It’s too intense–too much all at once. You try to hold on, to stop your orgasm from slamming into. Astarion gives you a saccharine smile. "You sound so adorable when you're trying not to come."
You beg.
You curse.
You come.
Gushing on his cock, your body is electrified, and you fall. Blood rushes in your ears so loudly you can’t hear anything. Your senses thrust you into a burning pit of pleasure as Astarion forces you down further. Spiraling until you find yourself caught, supported in Astarion’s arms. An uncomfortable wetness coats your legs and part or Astarion’s stomach but you can’t find the motivation to care because somehow, he’s still moving. He's held on long enough to fuck you through you orgasm. Giving your pussy long, even strokes as he chases his high. His ethereal face is close and so you take him with your lips. Kissing him, licking his fangs, until you feel his cock pulsing, overfilling you until his spend leaks out from around his cock. Adding to the mess.You feel like you’re floating. Exhausted, yes, but happy and ready to sleep. The mess will keep till nightfall when it’s time to wake, but Astarion shows no sign of slowing.
“No, my love. You're doing so well for me, but I’m not done with you yet.” Grabbing a pillow from the floor, Astarion cups your head, lifting it for you to place the cushion underneath before tenderly laying you back down. He slides down your body, lavishing you with attention. Forcing you to stay in the present with him by kissing your dips and curves. Any place he finds on your body he marks it for himself. Kneeling between your legs he softly coaxes you open. His spent cock rests half hard but bobs in excitement as he spreads the lips of your soaked pussy, licking his lips like he's being presented with a feast in his honor. The air from the room feels cold and uncomfortable on your wet entrance, covered in the sticky slick remnants of your lovemaking. It makes you clench involuntarily and more of Astarion leaks out of you. Astarion looks ruined at the sight of you. His perfect features contort into agonized lust before he leans in.
“Wait! No I’m too–” He doesn’t listen. Astarion leans down and wraps his lips around your mound. You can’t help the way your body jerks at the first swipe of his tongue on your oversensitive pussy. He’s cleaning the mess he's made of you. His sharp fangs are hot pinpricks on your skin that further blur the line of pleasure and pain you’re walking down. Another swipe of Astarion’s tongue has you twisting, kicking your legs to pull away. You move higher up on the bed, willing space for your body to recover. “Please, I need a minute. ”
Astarion reaches up, catches your ankle in his firm grasp, and pulls. His strength makes it look easy as he drags you, clutching at the traitorous bed sheets in desperation, to his parted lips. “I said I’d eat you up darling, and frankly, I’m still absolutely famished.” His voice is gravel but yours is fire as he begins to eat his fill of you. This time you’re unable to pull away. He’s wrapped his arms around your thighs, locking your cunt to his mouth so he can eat you like a piece of fruit that drips down his lips and chin. Saccharine sweet and delicious as Astarion consumes you. Fucking you with his tongue. Licking your nectar coated skin and sucking you between his teeth.
You lack any leverage to fight back, to twist away. Your entire lower half is being held up off the bed by the vampire feasting on your pussy. If you sincerely asked for him to let you go, to set you back down you know he would, but you can’t force yourself to say the words. You don’t want to. You want this. Astarion knows you want this as you gasp, muscles clenching while he sucks your clit between his lips. His breath is hot flames that lick along your scorched nerves. “That’s it, love. You can give me one more, can’t you darling.”
Yes, you think, or maybe you agree out loud because you hear Astarion chuckle before kissing his praise into cunt. For a second you’re confused as he pulls back again, wondering why he’s stopped. But then Astarion adjusts his grip on you, making sure your leg is solidly hooked over his shoulder, before he slides two fingers into your pussy. “Ah! P-please,” you’re not sure what you’re asking for, but Astarion gives it to you all the same. Scissoring his fingers, he strokes your cunt. Gently trying to coax out your pleasure, caressing your insides until you sing. his lips find your folds once more. His devastating accuracy brings you over the edge in moments. You’re left gasping, head spinning as the position Astarion holds you in makes it hard to breathe. It takes him a few moments, his lips busy kissing your pussy, his tongue lapping your mess, before he eases you back down into the ruined silk sheets. His mouth finds yours and you taste yourself on his lips, bitter in comparison to how thoroughly sweet he’s being.
You feel dazed–and elated. Your body floats somewhere between the heavens and the earth. Entwined together with Astarion who holds you close, refusing to let you go, but you don’t mind. His skin, though warm, is still much cooler than yours. It feels wonderful as your heartbeat begins to slow, your breathing returning to normal. Turning your head just so brings Astarion’s lips back to yours and the easy kisses you share almost bring tears to your eyes. Blinking them away is easy though as Astarion deepens the kiss, parting your lips so gently you don’t realize what’s happening at first. Not until you feel Astarion shifting his hips to slide his engorged cock along your entrance once more. You part easily for him, sending shivers of over-stimulation mixed with desire through every limb. There is no rush this time. Just a few languid strokes that have you gasping into Astarion’s mouth before he stills. Even while kissing you, you can see the smirk on his face as he allows you to adjust to holding him inside. Laying there together, connected in the deepest sense. Warming each other with limbs and lips entangled. “What the hell has gotten into you?” You don’t really expect an answer from Astarion as he seems to be preoccupied with lavishing attention across your collarbone.
“I’ve decided to reclaim the day for myself. It’s what I’m owed,” he sulks, looking up at you through his pretty eyelashes, but you can hear the sincerity behind his words. Yes. Yes, Astarion is owed the day. The sun. That and so much more, but not all of it is within your power to give. But this–this you can do. His ruby eyes sparkle in the candlelight as they dance along your face. Your answering smile stuns him into silence.
*************************
The sun has long since set as you stifle a yawn. Nostalgia returns once more. It’s been ages since the night meant it was time to rest, but the elf who’s at fault for keeping you up all day looks positively happy. So you let your complaints remain silent as you gaze at your lover. A heavy tomb rests in his lap and a gold chalice clutched in his delicate hand is filled with either wine or blood. You can’t tell from your position across the room. Reluctantly, you glance back down to the delicately looping script on the thick parchment in front of you. The letter is from Gale, back in his tower in Waterdeep. You’ve been trying to read it for the last half hour, but Astarion is just, so distracting. Honestly, anything could distract you from Gale going on about his Tressym, but Astarion seems to be especially good at it. That is until your eyes catch a few words that make you excited.
“Astarion.”
“Yes, darling?” He answers, eyes slow to leave the pages of his book.
“How would you feel about visiting with Gale for a bit?”
Astarion doesn’t try to hide the disinterest on his face at all as he turns his attention back to his reading. “No.”
“It’s just that–wait. No?” His answer takes you completely off guard. “What do you mean no?”
He heaves a sigh into his book. “I suppose if he were to come here that would be fine with me, but I’m far too busy this evening to travel all the way down to the Lower City just to visit with Gale.”
“Busy?” you laugh. “What do you have planned that makes you “too busy” to see a friend?”
“First of all,” he interjects. Head raising until he adopts a pose of self-importance. “‘Friend’ is much too strong of a descriptor for my relationship with that wizard. At most we are merely,” his graceful fingers swirl about until he finds the words he’s searching for, “–former work associates at best.”
“Oh is that so?” you say, smiling up at the hill you know Astarion is about to come down from.
“And besides, what if I get a bit peckish later tonight?” He pouts, coyly looking up at you through his eyelashes. “Neither one of us would like Gale around for that.”
“Well you’re being very greedy tonight, and I can’t say I don’t like it either,” you shoot him a look before unburying the lead. “But Gale isn’t in Baldur’s Gate, love. He’s invited us to his tower in Waterdeep.”
“Why would we travel all the way to Waterdeep just to see Gale fawn over his cat?”
You hold out the thick parchment letter with Gale’s elegant handwriting for him to look over. “Apparently, Gale and Tara have a lead on a cure for your sun sensitivity–” Astarion is out of his seat, book falling heavily to the floor, and by your side in an instant. He snatches the letter from your hand, reading Gale’s words for himself. You put on an air of indifference. “But if you really don’t want to go visit an old ‘work associate’, I understand.”
“Now now now, my love. Let’s not be hasty.” You roll your eyes. “Gale is a dear friend of ours! And I hear that Waterdeep is beautiful this time of year, not as beautiful as I am, of course, but that would be expecting far too much I suppose.” You let Astarion read on, absorbing the message for himself. “Well,” he says as he reaches the end, signed with your friend’s love. “It seems our wizard has been busy. Very busy, if he has a possible solution for you too.”
“I’m not worried about that just yet, but it’s nice to know I might be able to stick around longer than I thought possible.” Astarion caresses your cheek, allowing you space in the same way you provide for him. “I think I’m ready for another adventure though. It’s been a while since anyone’s tried to murder us. What do you think, love?”
He bends down, placing a soft kiss on your lips. “I’m ready to have some fun,” he smiles. Fangs and all.
#astarion#astarion fanfic#astarion x reader#astarion x you#astarion x tav#astarion bg3#baldur’s gate 3#bg3#bg3 astarion#baldurs gate astarion#baldur's gate astarion#baldur’s gate astarion#baldur's gate 3#baldurs gate 3#baldur's gate#reader insert#fanfic#astarionslittletreat#astarion ancunin
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Sacrificed to a Chivalrous Dragonkin
Pairing: Male!Dragonkin x Fem!Sacrafice Princess
Tags: fluff, meet not cute, flirting, teasing, offered as a sacrifice, kissing, transformation, chivalry, suggestive
A/N: Next part of my monster event! In DnD I love the dragonborn so this is uh... very self indulgent.
Chivalrous!Dragonkin who shows up in his dragon form at first, to intimidate others away from you. As soon as they're gone he drops to his more human form but his horns, claws, wings and tail stay, he doesn't like going without those.
Chivalrous!Dragonkin who refuses to do anything but princess carry you. Its very easy for him due to his strength, to fly you to his home. You need to be close to him, don't squirm, he won't drop you either way but its easier if you'd cooperate.
Chivalrous!Dragonkin who walks around shirtless. He would be naked if he were alone but it would be rude of him to take all his clothes off in front of a innocent princess. Being shirtless will do, as long as he can spread his wings out its fine with him.
Chivalrous!Dragonkin who warns you not to touch his horns or his wings too much. Those are weak spots of a certain kind and he wants to court you properly before you get to the next intimate step. However this does include kissing your hand and cheek upon greeting or departure.
Chivalrous!Dragonkin who brushes his tail over your back and lets it curl around your wrist when leading you. He uses just a tiny bit of pressure, fully knowing that he could crush you otherwise. Don't worry, as a dragon he will never break his newest treasure. Or his future bride for that matter.
Chivalrous!Dragonkin who finds it amusing that you thought he would just eat you and be done with you. Someone so cute? You're gonna be staying with him for a long time. Your lifespans might differ but he's learned to make the most of the time he has with the humans that he likes.
Chivalrous!Dragonkin who warms you up when he cuddles up to you in bed. Again, shirtless but his body generates heat anyways so its no issue for him. Keeps his hands on your hips, don't worry he would never touch you unless you ask. But the moment you do that gown of yours is getting torn to shreeds.
#dragon x reader#dragon x human#dragon x girl#monster x reader#monster boyfriend#monster love#monster fluff#monster imagine#monster headcanons#monster x you#monster x human#monster x girl#dragonkin x reader#dragonkin x you#terato
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18+ / mdi
content: loser!jungkook, sub!jungkook, softdom!reader, afab reader, loss of virginity, smut, dry humping, handjob, penetrative sex, etc.
wc: 1894
a/n: this wasnt proofread at all so pls excuse any mistakes</3
masterlist
"o-oh, i don't think we should-"
"you don't want to?", you pouted at the wide eyed boy under you, hand on his chin as you made him look straight into your eyes.
"it's not that- it's just that, uh, i- i wouldnt want to be disrespectful or anything," he stumbled over his words, bunny teeth biting into his bottom lip.
you chuckled patronizingly, readjusting yourself on his lap and making him let out a low hiss at the movement.
"it's okay, bunny. we're just having fun, right? nothing wrong with it if we both want it, hmm?", your hands went down to his dress shirt, playing with the collar, undoing the very top button, "plus, we did make a deal, didn't we, bunny?"
oh, right. the deal.
jungkook's eyes almost rolled back at the implication of the agreement you had unexpectedly dropped onto his lap a few days ago.
your grade for your statistics class had somehow dropped below average somewhere along the semester, which caused your professor to recommend some tutoring to you, claiming that you'd likely not be able to graduate if you failed this class, as it was a requirement.
being in your senior year of college, failing was not a risk you could take, so you pleaded with your professor to assign you a tutor, whomever he deemed the smartest. that's when jungkook came into the picture.
by all means, jungkook could easily be described as a loser. his only friends were fellow members of the anime club, taehyung and jimin, equally as virginal as himself. more than anything, jungkook was just incredibly socially awkward, leading him to a life of loserdom as he made no friends and zero good impressions in life. this led him to dedicate all his efforts to school and give up on any social endeavors.
when the professor had asked him to tutor one of his lower-graded students, jungkook had no issue with it. he was offered extra credit if he did so, so it just seemed like a win-win situation to him. it wasnt until jungkook was told it'd be you he'd be tutoring that he began to have a problem with it.
now, jungkook didn't know you, he simply knew of you. so what if he had a crush on you? he didn't need to know the ins and outs of your personality to be into you.
except he kind of did.
to be quite frank, jungkook had a slight obsession with you ever since meeting you at orientation a few years ago. his friends were aware of his crush on you, always teasing him for taking the same classes you did just to get a glimpse of you whenever he could.
how did he find out your schedule? as ashamed as he was to admit it, he had wrongfully used his power as an administrative assistant on campus. he knew he wasnt supposed to, but he couldnt help in looking up your name and saving your schedule for future use.
unfortunately, jungkook never did anything other than coordinate your schedules. he was far too shy to even make eye contact with you, having never even introduced himself to you.
and now he had to tutor you. alone in your room as you sat side by side.
at least that was what he had pictured, not this. not you catching onto his crush immediately and proposing you pay him back for his efforts in the form of taking his virginity.
he could've sworn he almost had a heart attack when you'd shamelessly suggested it, somehow clocking both his crush and his virginal state within twenty minutes of your first session.
that session had ended quickly after that, with jungkook sheepishly accepting with a desperate nod and receiving a chaste kiss on his cheek as a goodbye.
and now you straddled him while he sat on your bed, hands shyly holding onto your hips.
"y-yeah, the deal," he breathed through his nose, mentally preparing himself for whatever you'd do to him. he'd take anything you gave him.
you grinned at him, lowering your head to kiss at his neck, making him immediately sigh in pleasure. he could feel the stickiness of your lipgloss leaving its mark on his neck, but he didnt care. he wished the marks could stay forever.
nibbling at his neck, you made some longer-lasting marks, making him groan as his fingers dug into your pajama-clad hips. that's when your lips made their way back up, catching his own on his first kiss ever.
he knew he might've been awkward in how he kissed, but you didn't seem to mind it, taking his jaw in your hand and tilting his head so you could lick into his mouth. his soul left him at that moment, with his tongue far too desperate in its movement while yours remained slow and sensual. despite how messy he was, you still moaned against his lips, beginning to grind your hips into his own.
"a-ah, that's ... fuck," he breathed out.
"you like how that feels, bunny?" you whispered into his mouth, "just wait til you feel my pussy,"
this time his eyes did roll back. the mere thought of you wrapped around him made him want to rip his hair out in desperation, almost unable to wait until you have yourself to him.
you continued to suckle on his tongue, making him grow more and more frustrated by the second. your hands eventually came to fully unbutton his shirt, removing it before beginning to feel up his chest and arms, gasping into his mouth when his own arms wrapped around you and brought you closer.
jungkook felt his mind cloud as you ground against him, convinced that if he didn't get more from you, he'd lose his mind. fortunately for him, no begging was necessary for you to give him something that'd have his breath catching in his throat and his tent growing even harder.
he pathetically followed your lips when you pulled away, though he sat in complete awe upon realizing the reason why you'd pulled away in the first place. suddenly the sight of your breasts became the most pressing matter in jungkook's life. his breath stopped and his heart raced, making him feel like he'd pass out if he even dared make contact with the newly revealed skin.
yet his reaction did not prevent you from grabbing his hands and placing them on your breasts, guiding him so he'd squeeze and play with them.
"o-oh, fuck. they're so ... so fucking soft," he whimpered, "so pretty and ... shit, c-can i ... can- can i play with them?", he pleaded, eyes never leaving your swollen buds as his hands hesitantly ran over your breasts.
he hoped you knew what he meant by play, because he was far too embarrassed to properly word his desire.
luckily for him, you were just so nice and so pretty and so so smart that you understood, removing his hands and guiding his face to your breasts, pressing them together so he could rub his head against them, nuzzling his nose into the skin as be groaned a gruttal groan. his shy tongue came out to lick at them just moments later, licking over your nipples all while he whined and cried as if he was the one receiving the stimulation.
at some point your hands snuck between the two of you, sneaking beneath his pants and grabbing onto his cock. you jerked him as he lost himself to the supple skin of your breasts, letting out breathy whines into your skin while his hands tightly held onto you.
as pathetic as he knew he must've looked, he didn't care. he'd wanted you for years, and suddenly he had you in his arms, willing to let him do anything he wanted? any social filters within him left him, letting his unending desire for you take over no matter how embarrassed he would be at his desperate behavior after the fact.
you let him play with your tits for a while, letting out the prettiest sighs of pleasure as he got his fill of you, eventually pulling him away so you could kiss him again. despite being out of breath, he kissed you back with everything he had, now more able to match your pace.
"bunny, wanna ride you," you pulled away with a pretty pout, letting go of his dick.
"p-please. yes, i- yes," he stammered, hands coming down to touch at his clothed cock out of reflex.
giggling at his desperation, you attempted to get up, only to be stopped by jungkook's grabby hands as he whined at you not to let go. grabbing his arms, you reminded him you needed to take off your shorts, making him get an embarrassed look on his face at the realization.
he got up to take off his own pants, sitting back down and pulling you to him the moment you'd stripped. once more, you giggled at how badly he clearly wanted you, pulling him into yet another kiss.
"i'm gonna sit on it now, okay, bunny?", you breathed against him as you lifted yourself to line him up.
jungkook didn't trust his voice to not let out yet another string of desperate pleas, so he simply nodded, taking a deep breath to prepare himself.
but nothing could prepare him for the warmth of your cunt, nor for how tightly it wrapped around his cock, taking all air out of him. he couldnt help the whimpers of desperation that came out of his mouth when you first started bouncing against him, tightening every so often just to get a reaction out of him.
burying his head in your neck, he babbled nonsense against you, incapable of halting his pathetic noises enough to hear your own pretty moans.
after some time, you grabbed onto one of his hands, leading it between the two of you and guiding him, "play with my clit, bunny," you blindly guided him until he finally found your clit, following your instructions of rubbing it all while your bouncing never seized
and god, had that been a mistake.
you got impossibly tighter, dragging your nails down his back and crying his name in the prettiest gasps ever heard by man. he knew he'd meet his end like this, far sooner than he wanted. but he was comforted in knowing that your orgasm was close too, catching onto your pleas to cum with you.
muttering constant praise towards you, jungkook's orgasm took over him as your own arrived, making him deliver endless thank you's while your speed fastened and your rhythm lost all its sense.
"t-thank you, oh, fuck. thank you ... so fucking good, it's- it's so good. oh, thank you ..."
you immediately fell onto each other when your highs had gone down, equally out of breath. being the sweet girl jungkook always knew you to be, he hummed in contentment when you held onto him, cuddling into him in a loving manner and playing with his hair.
if you weren't careful, he'd probably fall in love with you even more than he already had.
he only broke the silence after a few minutes of cuddling, still slightly out of breath.
"do you- do you still wanna go over your statistics homework?"
you laughed, nuzzling further into him, "maybe tomorrow, bunny."
#bts imagine#bts fanfic#bts scenario#bts oneshot#bts smut#bts x reader#jungkook scenario#jungkook smut#jungkook x reader#jungkook imagine#jungkook oneshot
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Hey, so...
Have you all noticed *how* Crowley and Aziraphale are drinking in 1941? And by this I mean... that they barely are? <wink>
Crowley has been drinking for millennia by this point. He gets drunk as Bildad the Shuite in 2500 B.C.. Aziraphale has been drinking since sometime prior to the scene in Rome, which is also when we see them drink together for the first time. *This* scene is 1941 so countless years and meet ups between Crowley and Aziraphale have taken place since and considering how these two drink together in other situations-- like how completely wasted they were in the "eleven years ago" scene in S1-- this one here in 1941 is *interesting.* Why?
Because friends, that is *one bottle of wine* on the table beside Aziraphale and I can still see wine in it above the label, which means what's currently in their glasses is less than the first half of the bottle... which means the glasses they are sharing now that Aziraphale just poured are their first drinks of the evening... and neither of them are really drinking much of it. That signals an intent not to drink very much at all-- the open bottle probably being plenty for the two of them. They're going slowly, without an intention to get drunk, but not really just to savor together a particularly interesting vintage. They don't seem to be noticing or tasting the wine at all. Aziraphale poured them both a good amount but not overkill but both of them so far in this scene just take cautious, *small* sips of the wine... and they don't need to conserve it, ok?
It's not the war. It's canon that Aziraphale has a case of Chateauneuf-de-Pape that he picked up in the 1920s sitting in the back of this shop at this very minute that he doesn't bust open until "Eleven Years Ago" in the future of S1 and Crowley is a bootlegger in this moment in history lol and also they're both literally magic. They could miracle wine from halfway around the world if they wanted to. There's wine to drink if they want to get drunk...
...and they both have silently agreed that they don't want to.
It is the *only* time that they drink together in a scene that we've seen where they have a mutual agreement to not drink that much. Even when Aziraphale *didn't drink*, he still got *food* drunk while Crowley was drinking in the Job minisode.
But when they're having a drink together in 1941, both of them are very clearly, by a kind of unspoken agreement from the vibes in the room, *not really drinking.* Just a little. A few sips that will lead to a glass or two a piece total, at most-- that bottle split between them would be a lot from the air of and the pace of them in this scene.
And I mean... forgetting for a moment that Aziraphale will get drunk without issue in other scenes, we all know Crowley, right? This Crowley...
In S1, part of *God's narration* lol includes that Crowley and Aziraphale had been drinking for six straight hours in the bookshop together in "Eleven Years Ago." Rome is one thing because they had just had just met up so we don't know how sloshed they got over oysters at Petronius' new restaurant (and would seem likely that they did) but in every other scene when they drink together, basically, they drink quite a bit and both of them usually wind up drunk, especially Crowley.
So why is 1941 different?
Because they're drinking like people who both want to mess around, that's why.
Yeah, people mess around while drunk and I'm sure the same can be said for any of the few Effort-curious angels and demons outside of these two but Crowley and Aziraphale are not a casual hookup to one another-- they're in love, they're best friends, and they haven't been together before after literal millennia of pining and yearning for it. It's not something that's happening while they're drunk. They want to be sober and for it to be special and the evening here in 1941 has really got everything lining up for a perfectly romantic night, if they want it to be. All the rescuing one another and little glances and now Aziraphale's asked Crowley back to the bookshop for a late night drink and they're both drinking like they want it to be tonight.
They're both silently telling one another they want something to happen by the fact that they're drinking with no intention to get drunk. They want to be present. They want to remember. They want each other's explicit consent so they're barely drinking the wine so that it's evident that if things get intimate, it's not because either or both of them are drunk, and no one has to stop over concern over that.
Aziraphale is looking at Crowley looking all dashing, unusually quiet for him, maybe a bit nervous and still hiding a little behind his glasses-- Hell's biggest lush taking the world's smallest, barely-there sip of that wine lol-- and is like how many more tiny sips do we need to take before I can crawl onto his lap...?
Aziraphale's like omg, the sex is going to be amazing... thank God I don't yet know in this moment that something-- like some Zombie Nazis, probably-- will stop us and we'll still be on trying to kiss one another 80 years from now...
#ineffable husbands#good omens#crowley#aziraphale#crowley x aziraphale#aziraphale x crowley#good omens 2#good omens 1941#aziraphale kiss crowley in that damn hat before we all lose it already
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pac/pap: message from your future spouse/partner
take what resonates leave what doesn't - nothing is 100% for you because these aren't personalized so please no angry comments or dms about what i am saying not being a good fit for you or that you "don't claim" just keep scrolling if that is the case. be kind, self reflect, and have fun.
last pac/pap: what energy should you bring with you into the new year?
want a personal reading? click here to check out my reading options and prices!
pile 1
their physicality: emo style, pale, dark hair, tired looking, vitiligo, multicolored hair, highlighted hair, heterochromia, attractive, cute, stylish, possible smoker, and/or nice voice
their personality: impulsive, spontaneous, foreign, traveler, commitment issues, wanderer, needs space/freedom, adventurer, flirty, mesmerizing, agile, easily jealous, charming, irritable, scatter-brained, high-energy, easily distracted, and/or indecisive
where you are likely to meet: outdoors, at an art gallery, decor/antique shop, flower shop, alternative medicine shop, card section of a store, when buying beauty products, somewhere you are meant to dress up, art class, at a metaphysical shop, psych office, at night, the movie theater, night club, new york, naval academy, on a boat/cruise, at the beach, yachting, and/or somewhere coastal
now maybe this person doesn't have the best track record with previous lovers. in fact, it might be a bit chaotic to you when first hear about it. maybe when you meet them they will be freshly out of a recent breakup. they might be the type of person to remains friends with exes. those exes might even be actively involved in their life. that likely stems from their fear of commitment or their fear of being alone. currently, they are still learning that letting endings happen leads to new space for "bigger and better things" and people (like you).
to them, you are like the only star on the darkest night. they will only have eyes for you because you will be their muse. they adore you. you are so incredible in their eyes. they will see you as someone who is immensely strong, faithful, and optimistic. they find you to be a breath of fresh air - when they are with you, they feel like they can dream. they see all the possibilities of what could be and what they could become to transform into someone worthy of you.
they have some great qualities but ranking highest is their urge to control the chaos in your life for you. they are protective - they don't like to see you overwhelmed or hurt by the world around you, so they willfully step in the path of chaos to protect you. when you are overwhelmed, they are the first to volunteer to take care of anything for you. especially, when it involves them, they want to stay with you at all costs, so they will do whatever it takes to appease you and make you comfortable. they also are very wary and do not believe everything at face value, which, in my opinion, is a good quality. they don't take "i'm fine" as it is; they need to know that you are seriously fine. they don't do insta-love either which is good because, in my experience, those are the connections where the relationship is quick to fizzle out. they search for honesty and truth in all things but even more so with a romantic partner. and you? you are as genuine as they come. one last quality i want to mention before moving on is their stability and reliability. when this person makes up their mind, their mind is unchangeable. when they commit there is no out - they are all in. they are someone very stabilizing, driven, and generous when they decide that you are the one for them. they will no doubt make you their partner in crime. they will want you with them to explore the world and to spoil.
i feel like there will be noticeable tension in your pre-relationship that will bring you guys together. it will make you both feel destabilized and make you wonder if you are doing the right thing. you might feel like you are being vulnerable unnecessarily and that the relationship will amount to nothing but that won't be the case. challenges are momentary and are meant to bring you back to where you are meant to be.
the connection will bring happiness and intense emotions, especially, because you are both willing to confront each other with honest feelings and fears. you are both assertive and focused on your goals to make a future together.
song: "i wanna be yours" by arctic monkeys
pile 2
their physicality: distinctive features, angular features, black/dark hair, chiseled look, strong chin, emotional, seductive, attractive, pale, curvaceous, and/or darker skin tone (olive, easily tans, etc).
their personality: talkative, articulate, dextrous, gossiper, eloquent, influential, spiritual, soulmate, deep, independent, constantly in motion, diplomatic, and/or mediator.
where you are likely to meet: via a friend, someone sets you guys up, at the doctor's office, therapist office, walking a dog, at the veterinarian's, doing charity, while out to eat, at a bar, at the bank, making a donation, a romantic place, and/or at the cardiologist
i sense that they have a good reputation when it comes to love. they are notably nurturing, reliable, sensual, and dependable in a partnership. they go into a connection wanting to build a strong and lasting relationship.
they love that you are always trying to improve yourself. in the past, you may have been codependent on other and you might have relied on others to make you feel happy, but when you meet them, your efforts to do the opposite will be noticeable to them. you won't have unrealistic expectations for them, in fact, when you communicate with them regarding your expectations in the connection, they will find them very doable and will respect you for being upfront with them.
this person has rather unique qualities that makes them an attractive partner. for one they are aware that their emotions and thoughts sometime cloud them from seeing the reality of a situation. they can acknowledge their stress without taking it out on you and those around them. they like to manage their mental health so they can lead a productive life, they aren't afraid of making changes to better accommodate their situation. it is important to them to implement healthy coping strategies such as journalling. journalling and talk therapy likely made them the eloquent individual they are when they meet you. another attractive quality is their humble natural - they aren't haughty people who believe they are better than those around them. in fact, they aren't afraid of questioning themselves and their abilities - they realize that they are not the only one with answers and abilities. they don't do anything impulsively, they think carefully about everything before they actually do anything. lastly, they aren't afraid to admit they need space to take care of themselves - they aren't the type of person who allow others into their space just so they can lash out at them. they are very caring even when they feel depleted. they look within to nourish themselves, so you never have to fear that they will drain your well to refill their own.
you both will be brought together after you both feel more stabilized (emotionally, mentally, monetarily, etc) and are willing to commit. while careful planning isn't the sexiest thing in a connection, the sense of stability you will find with one another after such a long time of waiting to find each other will be well worth it.
this was a match made in the heavens, in my opinion. it was simply meant to be - this is the most important connection of your lifetime and they are your soulmate without a doubt. you both will love and respect each other all your lives. when you lead with love, what else could you expect.
song: "helena" by my chemical romance
pile 3
their physicality: physically fit, bodybuilder, good looking, in shape, attractive, dark/black hair, and/or darker skin tone (olive, tan, etc).
their personality: depressive, unhappy, down, lower self-esteem, pessimist, sickly, talkative, dextrous, gossip, mediator, loyal, devoted, friends first, humble, persistent, trustworthy, dependable, and/or friendly.
where you are likely to meet: somewhere with illegal activity, IT, technology shop, via a plumber, jewelry shop, at an amusement park, on the road, in a courthouse, at a political rally, at a voting booth, a highway, at an art class, at a metaphysical shop, a psych office, at night, at the movie theater, at a night club, and new york.
i sense that they aren't overly experienced with relationships, mainly because they have been working on themselves. they have been looking for someone to build a strong relationship with. someone who matches their enthusiasm, passion, and/or intensity.
they love that you can wait for things they you really desire - you have very good restraint. you aren't afraid of adjusting and refocusing your plans and goals to fit where you are right now. you aren't easily frustrated by a lack of progress - slow and steady wins the race for you, and they adore that you have that level of determination, patience, and passion.
your partner will have some astounding traits that are kinds blowing to me as i read these cards. for one, i sense that this person is very healthy - they don't have any exes waiting in the winds for them and hoping they will come back. their exes know they just won't be back. when they are done, everyone knows that they are indeed done. change is natural and normal to them - they have no problems letting go of things and people that don't help them grow or serve them in the long run. they like things and people that have purpose and are driven. they will do whatever it takes to go into this next chapter in life with you. this person tends to focus on the past however. sometimes it is difficult for them to see the possibilities of what could be as they fear that only bad things surround them and their circumstances. but they do not wait for the world around them to change; they begin the change within. they go through it - they have been through it. they know pain and struggle which has taught them how to be gentle, caring, and how to be content. they know how to find peace and how to be grateful for what they have gained. all of this is to your benefit.
prosperity and generosity are what bring you together. that and, of course, maturity - maybe this is someone you knew earlier and life, and now you are getting a second chance with them. by being forward and clear about your intentions this connection will continue to blossom and grow.
i feel like you will be better off and happier when you keep the relationship private - there are people on both side of your relationship that are gossips and manipulation.
song: "puppet" by tyler, the creator
#astrology#astro community#astro placements#astro chart#natal chart#tarotdaily#tarot witch#tarot art#daily tarot#rider waite tarot#tarot deck#tarot reading#tarot cards#tarot#tarotblr#rider waite smith#rider waite#pick a pile#pick a picture#pick a photo#pick a card#pick one#future spouse#fs
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Neteyam w/ a Human Girlfriend
Fem reader insert, not proofread and written on my phone, so excuse any weird formatting issues.
Also read; Lo’ak w/ a Human Girlfriend💙
In all honesty, Neteyam couldn’t believe that he’d ever see a human as more than a friendly acquaintance, let alone his mate. But all that was blown out the water when your lil human self tumbled into his life.
He had been wary to pursue you. Not because of you, per se, but he knew that choosing a human would make his future more complicated. But, in a rare display of fatherly kindness, Jake had assured his son that it would all be alright and worth the risk.
So, that leads us to you two as a couple!
I feel like both the Sully brothers would be extremely protective, but Neteyam in a more sensible way. You’d have to beg him to fly his Ikran with him or to accompany him on a hunt. He wasn’t even initially keen on you swimming in the ocean and would insist that you keep your head above the water to protect your mask.
That being said, he loves your enthusiasm and excitement about the things that he does day-to-day. Neteyam’s a busy guy, but you bring a little fun to his daily life with your curiosity and desire to learn the Na’vi way of life.
And the same can be said for him. In fact, he’s rarely happier than when he’s at your side in the lab. You could be amongst the most beautiful nature that Pandora has to offer, but a part of him would rather be all cosied up in your little makeshift bedroom back in the lab. For him it’s an escape from his role within the clan, a place where he can get lost in another world. Your world.
Despite the indifference he felt towards humans before meeting you, he’s fascinated by your culture. It’s not even like there’s one thing he’s particularly enamoured by- he just finds everything so interesting, from cultural norms to your favourite snacks.
He’s also very curious about your physical features (as Lo’ak would be too). And it’s in a completely innocent way. He’d just love to touch your skin and make cute compliments about the softness of your hair and the colours in your eyes. It’s all so new to him and he loves you for your differences.
But what makes it that much more special? The fact that you’re teaching him everything. He loves feeling more connected to you, whether that be brushing up his English skills or listening through your playlists. He could sit for hours hunched up in your non-Na’vi-proof bedroom just listening to you ramble about life on Earth.
All in all, your relationship with Neteyam is one of cosmic chance- a needle in a haystack, if you will. You’ve opened his eyes to a new world, and together you build one upon unending love and kindness.
Bonus: Nicknames for you include but are not limited to; my love, princess, yawntutsyìp, star girl, sweetheart, darling.
#neteyam x human#neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan#neteyam sully#neteyam x human reader#neteyam x reader#neteyam x fem reader#neteyam x y/n#neteyam x fem human#Neteyam fluff#neteyam headcanons
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