Advice if you love/care about an addict but they're not ready for abstinence. This is meeting people where they're at- the most important part of harm reduction

we do not talk enough about how you get hit front and back by being a jew and supporting Palestine. For a recipe that i want to make during Shabbat I have to scroll through a jewish recipe blog and cringe at the I Stand With Israel posts and then go back.

so a bunch of jewish spaces aren't safe anymore or are landmines. then you're forced to go someplace else. then there's tumblr with the people who think Jews=Zionist.

like oh, you're jewish? they immediately think you support the idf or something and praise genocide or something. your family barely survived a genocide that wasn't even like more than three generations ago and its being used as some sort of crutch to israel's moral defense when israel does NOT give a fuck about holocaust survivors at all except for their pr...

like damn bro im just trying to live my life and cook normally. Palestine has my entire heart. but like the pipeline from Palestine advocacy to accidental antisemitism to purposeful antisemitism is so 😭😭. man. i just wanna say guys jewish people aren't your enemies. the goal is to stop genocide not make the nazis proud of you or something

I think we need more "unnecessary" gore in horror movies actually I think people should explode into a giant mess of blood and tissue and viscera during random scenes in horror movies

when the size difference is showed properly on baldur's gate 3 i just immediatly pass away

LOOK HOW TINY ASTARION IS, HALSIN HAS TO TILT HIS HEAD DOWN

The sick reality is that many of the renowned academics and writers among Gaza's thousands of martyrs will, in twenty years time, be quoted and memorialised by the same universities and institutions that have denigrated them and enabled their slaughter.

Didn't get enough weekend, can we rewind?

Reading amazing fanfiction, then forgetting to bookmark it

Hey just so you all know when you google Preminger this is the third image that pops up

Bond!AU | Wyll & Ansur [Pt. 2]

Followup to the original post here: Part One

He does not find himself in that clearing every time he dreams — not even most times. In truth, he considers it to be a strange, singular thing, until – months later – he finds himself in the same clearing, by the same still pond. He brightens immediately, the memory of his little friend rushing back to the forefront of his mind, as well as the strange clarity and peace he had awoken with, after that first dream.

He peers over the side of the pool, turning his head to scan across the waters, straining for a glimpse of bronze scale. For long moments, there is nothing, and he begins to settle back, an unaccountable sadness bubbling up within him. A quiet rustling following by a gentle splash nearly startles him into tipping over, and he whips his head around, focusing the limited scope of his vision upon the source of the sound.

A small, spotted salamander rests atop a broad leaf a few handspans from the edge of the pond. The leaf is clearly well into the process of decomposition, and its structure is eaten away in patches. As he watches, it begins to sink slowly toward the bottom of the pond, taking the too-still salamander along with it. The water laps against the salamander’s skin, washing away cool mud and leaving bronze in its place.

Wyll’s eye widens, and he curses, leaping to action. Wary of frightening the little creature further off of its tenuous perch, he attempts to keep his movements as smooth as possible. A test of his resolve indeed, given the tension he feels. He slides his hand into the water, stretching out his arm to reach underneath the leaf, steadying it back to the surface of the water, hoping all the while that his little friend will be wise enough not to jump away.

When the leaf is once more level with the lapping water around it, Wyll pauses, a bit at a loss. The salamander has not moved away — but it hasn’t moved at all, staring at him with a wide, black eye. Wyll swallows, a fine tremble starting up in his arm.

He cracks an abashed grin at the little creature. “You know, I hadn’t really considered what would come after the dashing rescue. Thoughts?”

The salamander blinks, once, then – while Wyll is still cycling through options in his mind, searching for the one with the least chance of scaring his flighty little friend – flicks its tail with a tiny splash and turns, scurrying onto his wrist and up his outstretched arm before he can think. Wyll freezes, suddenly afraid to even breathe, as it continues its delicate – and extremely ticklish – journey to his elbow, where it leaps down onto the ground.

It pauses and stares up at him for a moment, and he meets its gaze, still sprawled out inelegantly against the ground, holding the leaf aloft. It blinks, then darts off into the surrounding grass, reappearing in flashes of bronze between the blades until it finally comes to a stop in a hollow below a stone on the other side of the pool, slipping happily into the shallow layer of mud.

Wyll closes his eye, draws a breath, and then clambers back upright, taking care not to damage the leaf, for all that its precious cargo was no longer atop it. He sets the leaf upon the rock behind him to dry in the sun, then leans back against the rock himself, heaving out a rough sigh. He doesn’t say anything further for the remainder of his time there, but cracks his eye open every now and again, just to check on his little companion. Every time, he finds it watching him in return from its alcove.

After his heart has stopped its hammering in his chest, an unfamiliar feeling of ease steals over him, and he allows himself to relax into it. The feeling persists well after waking, even when its origin has faded to a far corner of his mind.

while you were studying girls i was kissing the blade

The answer is however many show up outside the window he tosses food scraps of. I'm sure Astarion comes up with beautiful names for each of them but they're just called "cat" 85% of the time.

Bed time would be a real unbalanced situation during winter.

Astarion’s simple plan

BG3 AU where Wyll's self-sacrifice in saving Baldur's Gate – from cultists of Tiamat, the queen of evil dragons, no less – at great personal cost creates the barest beginnings of a bond to the still-slumbering Ansur. After all, that stymied, accumulated draconic power would have had to dissipate somewhere, and would it not make sense for it to be drawn to the lodestone of a necrotic-energy suffused dracolich?

It would give Ansur a bit of a jolt toward waking, but not enough to bring him to full awareness. The part of him that remained curious, and hopeful, and mourned its lost connection to a bright spark of mortal devotion and nobility – in retrospect, lost to him perhaps even before Balduran’s transformation – latched on to that new path, following it to its end in the brilliant, marred soul of Wyll Ravengard.

After everything, after his father returns to the city, and Wyll... leaves it, he dreams. There’s a different, recognizable creature every time. It starts very small, a little fish in a pond he finds himself sitting by. He is tired and worn from keeping up his mask of careful good cheer, and his body aches from the scuffles it has been forced into. Mizora seems to get some entertainment from sending him after quarry just slightly above his level, or with not enough information to prepare himself adequately. He is learning quickly, but never quite quickly enough, it feels. Here, in this dreamscape, his eye socket still aches, but it is comfortingly empty of the stone that sits within in in the waking world, its chilling weight reminding him always of his mistress’s leash.

He trails his fingers within the pond, and the little fish darts away, a flash of blackened bronze scales. He can’t blame it; he’d hide from himself if he could, too. He says as much to the little creature, and fancies it moves a little closer to the entrance of its little hiding hole. Charmed, and encouraged by the thought that, after all, who else could he possibly speak to about any of this, he settles back against a small outcropping of rock alongside the pool, leaving his fingers bobbing gently in the water, but letting his eyes close and his attention wander.

He tells the little thing about his most recent quest — he likes to call them such sometimes, in the privacy of his own mind, because it lets him pretend that they are anything as glamorous and heroic as the future he dreamed for himself, Before. Even more privately, he draws a mental distinction between the quests he is allowed to take on of his own volition, and the jobs that Mizora sends him on, to further her own unknowable ends. Thus far, they don’t seem to have been anything too horrible, but he fears that such will not always be the case. What can he do about it, however? This was his bargain for the lives of every resident of the Gate, and his own acts at Mizora’s direction have not even come close to outweighing that number.

He is broken from this too-familiar thought spiral by a distinctly unfamiliar – and unexpected – brush of scales against his fingertips. He starts, briefly, but keeps his calm, and merely cracks open his eyes to look down at his little friend. It is poised to dart back into its crevice at the slightest motion, and he smiles down at it, keeping his fingers as still as he can.

“Have no fear — I will make no attempt at you, I swear it. At least one of us ought to be free.”

The little fish makes one last brush against his outstretched hand before darting away again. He fancies it swims with less frantic caution, this time, and counts it a victory enough. When he wakes, soon after, the memory of the strange dream does not fracture apart in the way of most dreams, but seems to tuck itself away, coming to the forefront of his mind only when directly called upon.

@infernaldaydreams knocked this commission of my Dark Urge Dove and her war criminal boyfriend out of the park.

Find unhinged fanfic about them here.

prince of the gate indeed ✨

— wyll as regé-jean page in that one pic posted by Valc0_ on twitter

edit: just to clarify the clothing is PHOTOBASHED i only edited colours and shape a bit!! tysm to everyone who thought i did paint it tho waahh thats really flattering 🧡