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ashintheairlikesnow · 1 year

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Why You?

CW: PTSD, panic attack, hallucination, traumatized whumpee, escaped whumpee, some referenced gore from the past

Death Valley

For @amonthofwhump day 8; holiday haunting

Wichita, Kansas, 2012

A man who had once gone by Finn Schneider sat in a diner just before midnight, sipping weak but scalding hot coffee and waiting for his breakfast plate to be ready. The diner held a scattering of people other than him - a group of five drunk kids who couldn’t be more than teenagers, giggling to each other, a boy and girl shooting each other lingering looks that told the man that they would probably be kissing before the night was out.

The girl had stolen the boy’s hat five minutes ago and currently wore it with the bright and shining smile of the triumphant. The boy slid her sidelong smiles.

How long did it take him to realize what it meant when girls stole his sweater, his coat, his hat? He couldn’t remember, really. At some point, though, he understood that it was the same as a sign waved in the air, interest made clear without words.

There were a couple of truckers meeting for what passed for dinner at midnight, too. They’d nodded to him when they came in, thinking he must be one of them. He figured it was the eating-at-midnight, the loneliness, the heavy canvas coat he wore against the frigid chill of wind outside.

Noah had given it to him, congratulated him on your first Carhartt, now you’ll fit right in behind the wheel with me, and he’d worn it ever since. Noah was off on a different job, and it was up to the man - who currently called himself Henry Schmidtgall - to try and fit in by himself. Mostly, that meant saying as little as possible to hide his accent and wearing these heavy coats and gloves and a thick hat.

He was on his way from his last job in Illinois, near Chicago, headed up to Montana. There were some people he’d pick up in Colorado, three or four, and then he’d head north for the border and hope they made it before the snows fell.

Meanwhile, he sat in a diner in Kansas freezing his ass off. The chill air from outside made its way through the big glass windows, and he looked out to see absolutely nothing beyond the bright streetlights flooding the small parking lot. Not that there was much to see.

He hated driving through this part of the country.

There were no trees to stop the wind, for one, no real hills to slow it down. It blew across the fields and plains and cut like a knife. Half the time he thought if he forgot to wear gloves it would slice his skin right open. This time of year, there wasn’t even corn to rustle.

The waitress stopped over to refill his coffee, and he smiled at her, distant and unfocused. Over the tinny speakers, country music played, low enough to mostly escape notice, occasionally breaking into his thoughts as the singers wailed a particularly emotional line. The booth squeaked a little when he shifted, but he ignored it.

One of the teenagers threw her head back, letting out a bright burst of laughter that traveled through the diner like a gunshot. Everyone tensed a little, then went back to their soft conversations or - in Finn’s case - to staring at nothing.

Two waitresses argued over politics by the countertop, the cook occasionally chiming in while bacon sizzled and eggs fried in a saucepan to one side. The man who used to be Finn Schneider barely listened to them. He didn’t know anything about American politics and he didn’t care, either.

The bell over the door jingled as it opened, a merry little sound, and he looked up on pure instinct.

Then he froze.

His hands clamped down around the cheap ceramic coffee mug until the heat burned his palms, and still he held on. The chill was no longer on the outside of him, but boiling up from within, traveling up his throat and turning into the softest whimper.

Luckily, that came just as the chorus of the song hit its crescendo, and the tiny noise he’d made was smothered by she was the one that got away, the one that wrecked my heart…

Hesitating just inside the door was a woman in her midtwenties with black hair that flowed loose down her back like water, blown around by the freezing wind. She had a cell phone up to her ear, wearing tight black jeans that flared out over heavy boots, a thick sweater and the same kind of coat the man who used to be Finn Schneider was wearing over that.

Finn saw her in profile, left side only, her aquiline nose and light brown skin, one green eye - he was sure it would be green, although he couldn’t see from here - and full lips. She laughed, to whoever she was talking to. “Yeah, I’ll call you when I get back on the road,” She said, her eyes scanning over the booths and tables, taking in the sparsely populated little place. “Yeah, I try my best to be. Mmhmm. Love you, too.”

She shifted, shoving the phone into her pocket.

Finn stared at her, years falling away. If she turned her head, he knew she’d be missing one eye. The right side of her head would be bashed in, crushed bone and brain and so much blood. If she turned, he’d see one green eye ringed in a little line of brown, just the one, an empty marble in a broken face.

He never did quite understand what had happened to the other eye.

He last saw her on Robert’s living room floor, a dead body dragged along on a trash bag with her hair a terrible halo clumped with blood and gray matter. He’d listened to the awful, final sound of her body thumping down the basement stairs, disappearing into the dark. Then he’d seen Robert bring up the barrel with little left inside but bones he’d bury somewhere in the wilderness while hunting for new victims.

What had her name been?

Robert had shown him the driver’s license, made him hold it and smear his fingerprints all over the thing. A smiling, pretty woman’s face with long black hair. Nicole Chumani. Age 24, address somewhere in North Dakota.

Robert had commanded Finn to read every detail out so he couldn’t look away from it. Hair, black. Weight, one hundred forty-five pounds, height, five feet six inches…

Only when Finn had broken down into tears inside his cage, Robert disgusted by his emotions, had he taken the license back and driven her body away to be dumped with all the others. She’d been in California, Robert had said cheerfully, to visit a friend who came out here. She’d been to California to have a nice visit, and she’d had one, and then she’d run into Robert at a rest stop at 3 AM when he was hunting.

And then-

She’d been buried in the woods, with the others Robert didn’t keep in his basement. Somewhere in the woods, somewhere along a highway in Wyoming, somewhere no one was ever looking for them.

And here she was, now.

When Finn glanced down at the floor, he could see the blood dripping and puddling there beneath her feet, bits of gray matter floating in it. Bone, like shards of glass, the slight curve of a skull.

“Just you, sweetheart?” The older waitress called out, a woman in her fifties maybe. The dead woman smiled, giving a nod in affirmation. “Sit wherever you like, it’s too late for anybody to be all that picky.”

She laughed in response, and Finn blinked, watching her back as she walked to a booth, pausing just before it. Bloodied footsteps trailed behind her. His heart stilled as he waited for her turn around - to see that bashed-in face, to throw up all over the table and to have only coffee inside of him to lose - and then it began to beat again. The heavy thump of it knocked the air from his lungs.

She turned his way as she sat down and he realized it wasn’t Nicole Chumani at all.

There wasn’t any blood on the floor.

No bone or brain.

He blinked, rapidly, and shook himself like a dog shaking off water.

She didn’t even look like Nicole Chumani, and her eyes were clearly far too dark to be green. Her hair was too long, although didn’t he read once that hair keeps growing for a while after you die? Her face wasn’t broken at all, wasn’t bashed in and destroyed by Robert’s hammer blows. She had two perfect dark eyes.

She glanced over and caught him looking at her - staring - and Finn immediately looked back down at his coffee. The next time he chanced a look, she had her phone in her hands, and he knew what she was doing.

He knew.

She was taking a photo of him, maybe, or just describing him in a text to someone she trusted. Guy staring at me, creepy asshole.

It was only-

She’d just looked like-

He almost asked. Do you remember Nicole Chumani? She went missing in 2003? But of course she wouldn’t, they probably had never heard of each other. How many people lived in the States, that he should assume any one person would know about any other? This woman would have been a teenager when Robert dragged a body across the floor in front of Finn’s face.

It would have been fine, if he had died, and Nicole Chumani had been the one who lived. She would probably have done a better job with her life than he’d done with his.

A plate was set down with a clatter in front of him and he jumped, heart in his throat, eyes jerking up to see-

The waitress, blinking with surprise. “You all right, hon?”

Finn swallowed, once, twice, three times. “I-... yes, thank you.” If he kept his sentences brutally short, he could mostly cover up his accent. Noah told him to, that he needed to not seem like someone who didn’t belong here, but it was hard when he belonged nowhere at all. When he shouldn’t even be alive. When he should have been buried in the basement with the rest. “More coffee, please?”

She nodded, bustling away. His stomach flipped at the smell of the cooked eggs and bacon in front of him, the toast with its little cups of butter and jam. He wasn’t hungry any longer, but he made himself spread the butter anyway, take a bite of crunchy browned bread and salty fat.

The waitress poured his coffee back up to the top, then glanced up at a clock that hung on the wall near the door. “Merry Christmas,” She said, with a solemn thoughtfulness.

“Wh-... what?” Finn blinked.

“It’s after midnight, hon. Merry Christmas.”

“Oh… ah, Merry Christmas, thank you.” He caught himself before he could say danke.

She walked back over to her argument over the President with the other two, and Finn ate some bacon with a tongue that did not taste it, with teeth that were barely aware as they chewed. He could feel the woman in the other booth looking at him, still. Wondering why he had stared at her like that.

There was nothing he could have said to ease her mind, now that she was worried over him. No way to say, look, I’m sorry, but you look just like a corpse I once knew-

He had to stifle a giggle, put a hand over his mouth. Hysterical fear threatened the edges of his vision, settled like a weight against his back, ringed him like the bars of his cage.

He didn’t dare look her way again. Not only because he knew what he looked like, but because he was terrified that if he did, she would be missing half her face again. She would point at him, glaring with her one baleful remaining eye, and ask with a mouthful of missing bashed-up teeth and cracking broken cheekbone what made you so goddamn special? Why did you get to live and I had to die?

And he’d have to say, I don’t know.

He fled into the night a few minutes later, his meal barely touched and a twenty dollar bill left on the table.

The man who used to be Finn Schneider was in Dodge City before he stopped feeling the weight of one single eye on his back.

@finder-of-rings @endless-whump @arlinthesnep @thefancydoughnut @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears @hackles-up @grizzlie70 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @burtlederp

@whumperfully @pigeonwhumps @squishablesunbeam @darkthingshappen @whumper-soot @pumpkin-spice-whump @pardonmekreature @d-cs @honey-is-mesi @whump-queen @sowhumpful

#amow winter whumperland 2022 #finn schneider #death valley fic #whump #holiday haunting #day 8: holiday haunting #gore #ptsd tw #panic attack tw #Hallucinations #visual hallucinations tw #referenced eye whump #traumatized whumpee #trauma response tw #escaped whumpee #freed whumpee #rescued whumpee

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brucewaynehater101 · 1 month

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Overwhelming Emotions HC: Tim, Jason, Dick, and Damian

TW: dissociation, panic attacks, unhealthy coping mechanisms

Tauma, upbringing, culture, parenting, and experiences will have varying effects on how one processes and expresses emotion. Not all coping methods will be healthy or deemed socially appropriate. Here's my hc on how their circumstances affected how they deal with overwhelming trauma.

Tim is used to locking down his emotions. When it gets to be too much, he literally shuts down. He'll stare at walls for hours as time passes, be unable to move, and experience difficulty with speaking

Jason has panic attacks. He isolates himself, breaks things, and mentally spirals for hours if not days

Dick will fly off the handle with rage, clutch his hair as he rocks back and forth, and cry hysterically

Damian will flip between intense anger and dissociation. He will either lash out, or he will slip into depersonalization not being fully aware of his own body

#dc comics #dc universe #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #people react differently to the same stimuli based on their upbringing and trauma #their reactions are not healthy but still valid forms of expression #usually the bats manage their emotions enough (not well) but they can't do that forever #processing emotions varies and I could talk for hours about why each kid would respond these ways #lashing out in highly emotionally situations should not be punished but mitigated (it is a trauma response)#poor mental health comes in many shapes and sizes #tw dissociation #tw panic attack #tw depersonalization #i can go into heavy detail

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idolomantises · 1 year

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I think I’m gonna discuss this once and hopefully never have to bring it up again. Originally I wanted to talk about it on Twitter but people are very disrespectful when it comes to mental health so… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Basically, I haven’t been doing so great, mentally. Nothing bad has happened to me, I’m safe and surrounded by people I care about, and it’s been like that for months. I just, I haven’t been feeling good.

For people who do follow me on accounts like Twitter and Instagram, you may have noticed I haven’t posted anything new since January. I was struggling to feel motivated to make something for my main accounts despite having countless ideas I’d love to work on. I feel better now and do plan on getting something done in March, but that sudden lack of motivation is pretty rare for me. Art is not only my job but a big hobby for me, I just love drawing. I did get some nsfw art done at least.

I don’t know what really prompted my mental health decline, I’ve been getting a few worried messages and fanart because someone insulted my art. But that didn’t hurt me at all, it actually boosted my account and patreon.

I guess I just… got sad?

I have a really bad tendency to suppress and even ignore my trauma and feelings of guilt. And I guess one day I really sat with my thoughts and I just, lost it I guess. I have so much traumatic memories and sudden and intense feelings of self loathing, something I’ve never felt in almost a decade, that it got overwhelming. I couldn’t reassure myself, I couldn’t really talk to anyone about it because how do you confront things that happened years ago? You feel almost irrational. It’s just memories that haunt you, it’s nothing physical or tangible and yet it’s a crushing feeling of anxiety, self hatred and resentment.

I was crying almost every day, and crying so much that my eyes kept hurting long after I was done, and I could barely see my own screen. I’ve had paranoid thoughts about myself and others, thoughts I can’t get into because they’re so deeply irrational. I was feeling suicidal urges and thoughts of self harm. I don’t see myself doing it, but it’s so frequent and overwhelming it’s like I’m already planning my suicide note.

I was talking to my therapist about it, that I was starting to hate being alive. That I hated living. That I could spend the next 50 years of my life with no more conflict or trauma and I’d still be in intense misery and turmoil. They’re feelings I couldn’t really bring myself to tell friends about because what could they say? How do you calm yourself down and reassure yourself. I can’t even talk about my trauma verbally without crying. And it’s funny because sometimes minor irks started to affect me negatively. I was feeling anxious about what to draw because I didn’t want to do deal with homophobic backlash.

I went to a therapist, I talked to friends, Ive been working out more and eating better, I did everything I should do to improve my mental health and all of a sudden a single night just sitting in my room destroyed everything I was slowly building up over the past 5 years.

It’s been really difficult for me. I think also, I just felt so much guilt over not being the best person I could be. I decided to lessen my online usage, not just for my mental health but because I really wanted to work on being a better person. I want to stop hating myself and letting my trauma push me down and I want to do just be better and do better as a person. A lot of people have been very forgiving and kind to me but I don’t feel like it’s enough and I want to do more and I want to feel better about myself. I want to give everything I can to people around me. I’ve been going to therapy a lot more lately and things are getting better for me, but it’s been a very slow process.

I just want to repeat that nothing serious has happened to me. Nobody attacked me in a way that negatively affected my health. A lot of people, friends and strangers have been really nice to me these past few months. I just was doing a lot of self reflecting and unintentionally forced myself to confront a lot of my trauma. I’m saying trauma a lot. I don’t want to get into depth about what I endured because it’s my business but people who do know me know how bad things were for me. I don’t want to feel like that again. I want to feel better, and I want to do better.

Sorry for the long read. That’s just how I feel.

#txt #suicide tw #self harm tw #I was very hesitant to discuss this because whenever I talk about mental health it leans into #one side. who are super well meaning but feel obligated to make sure that I’m okay. like I’m their responsibility when I’m just a stranger #online and my thoughts and feelings should never make someone feel like they have to ‘protect’ me #and another side who sees me purposefully be vague about some of the things I discuss like trauma and regret #and just construct their own narrative and get mad at me for it #at this point I’m just too tired to care about the potential backlash of the latter #if you read all this and think I’m saying I did nothing wrong and everyone is bad except for me that’s your fantasy you get to live in #I just want to be honest about my thoughts and feelings

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cascigarette · 1 year

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it's really interesting to me how they wrote and how jarpad played sam's trauma from the cage through the soulless sam arc and the hallucifer arc. like when he's soulless he's very much like dissociated out of body hypersexual kind of trauma response with memory gaps and no real sense of self. when he gets his soul back he does sort of a 180. he's overwhelmed, he's hallucinating, having intense flashbacks, using self harm to ground himself, feeling hyposexual, he can't help but remember. I just find it interesting to see his initial trauma from the cage and how it changes over time, how it changes him

#ive just been learning about trauma and how ive been changed by trauma in ways i didnt realize before #and i find myself similar to a lot of his responses #and it feels sort of validating to me weirdly bc in my head im very prone to be like yeah no that wasnt a big deal #ur making a big deal out of nothing etc etc #just a lot of minimizing #which sam does too #if i had more coherence rn id go more in depth with his trauma responses but im feeling kind of out of it today so this is what ive got #sam winchester #sam and lucifer #hallucifer #soulless sam #spn #trauma tw #ask to tag #mine #sh mention

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snowflake-sage · 7 months

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Had to get this off my chest

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thechosenanubis · 8 months

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Nina is actually a better person than people give her credit for. Like at the beginning of S1, I had the same scenario with Patricia happen to me: new girl at a new school, trying to make friends, and this other girl in my class didn't like my ~vibes~ or whatever and started saying nasty stuff and trying to isolate me. (thankfully in my case no close friends were kidnapped by secret societies in search for eternal life 💀 ) So not only i can sympathize with her situation, but even relate to it.

And what I don't see talked about enough is ( or if people did, I haven't seen those posts) calling out Patricia's behavior for what it really was: bullying. Keep in mind here, that I understand where Patricia's behavior is coming from, since she's being gaslit like crazy. But that still doesn't make her behaviour towards Nina acceptable or excusable.

And I wouldn't have blamed Nina if she refused to accept Patricia's apology, because is not a victim's responsability ( only their choice) to forgive their bully.

Still, Nina forgave Patricia because she's good like that ( and probably didn't want to break the already fragile ecosystem of the house with more hostility even if it was within her right to keep a grudge and refuse Patricia's apology. )

What i'm trying to say, Nina is a good person, flawed but good.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

#house of anubis #nina martin #patricia williamson #hoa character analysis #bullying tw #the same thing obviously applies to K.T's situation in s3 #theres something to be said about patricia's inability to control her emotions and her tendency to lash out at others in anger #<<< read previous tag as: trauma response #like our fave redheaded girlie sadly didn't learn jackshit from the entire situation in s1 😞 (kind of)#also keep in mind that in this post im talking about beginning of S1! Nina ( who isnt traumatized yet lol)#S2! Nina's behavior is another beast entirerly and deserves its own post imo #i enjoy deep diving into characters psychological behavior way too much to ever stop 😌

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tr1ppy6 · 9 months

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“The abuse and trauma I suffered as a kid hasn’t really affected me”

Oh no? You crave intimacy but panic when actually receiving it? Well did you ever hear “stop crying before I give you something to cry about” or “if you didn’t act like this, I wouldn’t have to act like this” from them? You jump and freeze when a door closes a little too loudly or a dish drops into the sink, or get intensely angry at a loud alarm? Did you ever feel guilty for hating them, because they were nice *sometimes*? “I know they really hurt me yesterday but they got me my favorite candy bar, I would be a terrible person for still being upset.” Congrats, you have likely have c-ptsd.

As I’ve grown older, I’ve wondered more and more who I would be, if not the scared little girl trapped in those memories.

#mental illness #b1polar #bpd thoughts #tw cptsd #cptsd life #trauma #childhood #child abuse #trauma response #cptsd recovery #just cptsd things #mental health #mentally unstable

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gay-jewish-bucky · 3 months

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if magneto were written today he'd [insert thing that completely pretends antisemitism doesn't exist anymore and tries to turn him into a leftist approved tokenized minority]

#personcole #tw antisemitism #yall would not like what magneto would actually be written in response to today #i think you dont actually like him if you don't understand how integral Jewish trauma is to the character

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uncanny-tranny · 10 months

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"The world isn't a safe place, so get used to it!"

Man, as somebody who's survived multiple, long-lasting instances of abuse from a very young age, I was under the impression that the world was, indeed, so safe and conforming to my desires. I'm practically stunned to learn that this is not the case, and I have been severely humbled

(Sarcasm fully intended)

#mental health #mental health advocacy #abuse apologia #trauma #abuse tw #abuse mention tw #if your response to somebody talking about trauma is to go 'the world isn't safe!' that is a reflection on you; not the world #and if the world isn't safe because of human action: we can change our behaviour #not only is this abuse apologia but it is also kind of... lazy #and i *hate* the word 'lazy' but it's simply the only word i have to convey how asinine the whole 'get used to it!!!' is #if living in the world is to be used to abuse and some of the worst shit imaginable then. i don't think that's right. or normal.#again like... i actually truly just fucking despise the way most people talk about trauma and abuse...#...and pretty much anything that isn't like the bare surface-level 'mental health is important!' type deal...#...because it has always cpme down to 'how can i help maintain the status quo (people being abused and tormented)?'#or 'well you were [x] so you deserved it!' or 'you shouldn't want for ANYTHING if it makes me sad/annoyed/frustrated!!'#but maybe i'm naïve but i know this shit can change #and i don't think silence and letting people go about believing that shit is how it'll be done

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newtabfics · 6 months

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Could I ask for a drabble with drunk Astarion? It was adorable how he got drunk from a bear. I wonder what would he do if he got even more drunk later in the story? What would do his female Tav, would she make fun of him or get drunk too? Thank you in advance!

In my personal headcanon: Absolutely would get teased for it. But I'm feeling a type of way today :3

Basically, they're all at an inn for this.

Below cut for scrolling

Triggers for I guess drinking, mild angst. basically going into astarion's thoughts and fears about not being a sexual being.

His stumbling into her arms made her sigh as she helped him to his room. "You're drunk again. What happened?"

"Some...guy...he was drunk first," Astarion slurred, leaning into her. He nuzzled against her hair and gently pressed a kiss behind her ear. "Gods, you're so sweet to me. Makes me love you so much."

Her cheeks warmed at his words as she helped him to his room. They were lucky they could afford separate rooms. After the camping, it felt needed for everyone.

Though, as she helped him into his room and gripped her hips, she felt that desire building again. "You're drunk, Star," she said gently, guiding him to his bed.

"You're drunk, Darling," He giggled out as she helped him sit. "Ooh. Gonna take advantage of me?" He joked. His eyes flickered a slight as a panic rose in his chest.

Tav smiled gently and knelt down, carefully removing his boots. "Let's get these off," She said softly.

He watched her through rosy vision. It was startling. She was so careful with him, not letting her touch linger too long. He could see it in her eyes, how much she wanted to be intimate with him again...

"Do you hate me?" He mumbled out.

"No, Astarion," She said firmly as she set his boots aside before reaching up and helping him out of the padded overcoat. "Let's get this off. You can't sleep in armor. You'll be fussy in the morning."

Astarion felt his throat tighten as he reached up and touched her hand. He couldn't grasp it still. She was so careful. Her hands stopped, letting him do what he needed. It was like she refused. to move now without his permission.

"Why...not?" he asked softly. "You could...whatever you wanted."

Tav looked up at him from her kneeling position as she gently took his hands into hers as she rested them on his thighs. "Because you keep asking that," She said. "Astarion..." She blushed a slight. "You mean so much to me. You're the first to...to really look at me. And you didn't have to. You said you wanted us to be real. I want us to be real too."

His heart fluttered when she gave a gentle kiss to his knuckles before resting her forehead against them. "I'm not going to do anything, because that's not what you need. and I think you know that too, My Shining Star."

Astarion's face went red at the nickname. "W-Why do you keep calling me that?"

Tav smiled and shook her head. "No particular reason," She giggled.

"What? But I wanna know," he whined.

Tav's soft laugh made his heart melt as she carefully got off the overcoat, leaving him in his loose shirt and pants. He gulped and looked at her, eyes flickering with anxiety as he studied her. His eyes glanced to her neck, seeing the familiar fang bruising on her flesh.

"I feel like I owe you," He sighed, gently tracing the marks. He watched her shiver and still. It was like she was reigning herself in for him. His heart dropped as he thought about how he was neglecting her. How he could do better or--

"Astarion," She said firmly, reaching up and cupping his face as she adjusted. She stood and his hands tenderly found her hips as her lips pressed against his forehead.

He shivered and hugged her close, burying his face against her stomach as he sighed heavily. "I'm sorry I'm a mess," He muttered.

"Don't be sorry," She sighed, running her fingers through his hair as she held him. "I just want you to be comfortable again. I'm never going to make you do anything you don't want."

Her words stopped. She almost wanted to think of something else to add to the statement, but even unsaid, she had spoken volumes more.

Tav smiled as she watched him starting to fall asleep against her. "I'm going to tuck you in now, alright?"

"Don't go..." He muttered into her stomach. His hands clutched the back of her shirt, almost cradling her close to him. "Just...stay?"

She smiled and kissed her head. "I can do that." She hummed as she lay with him in the bed, watching him cling to her. "next time, you're not going out for blood alone though," She told him with a gentle look. "Or at least, maybe don't grab a drunkard."

Astarion smiled softly as he felt the alcohol already clearing out of his mind. He couldn't tell her that his vampirism made him process alcohol so much faster and that it was a buzz. Not after it meant he could be wrapped in her arms and feeling her hands through his hair.

maybe he'd tell her in the morning once his mind stopped reeling.

#ask me stuff #ask request #astarion bg3 #tavstarion #alcohol #tw alcohol #mild angst #trauma response

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