I'm So Glad I Live In A World Where There's Archive Of Our Own

you say it's my villain era and what you mean is that when you were six you panicked about wearing the right thing to kindergarten, what you mean is that in middle school nobody was eating, what you mean is that you spent high school prepping for college and college prepping for adulthood and adulthood fucking lost in the system.

what you mean is that you've been good. you were a good team player. you would have never considered yourself perfectionist - those are people more popular, prettier, more successful - but you carry any flaw like a secret in you, terrified someone will desert you for the simple reality of your personhood.

if you were good you could be loved. you could be loved if you were selfless and thoughtful and caring. if you bent over for every person, if you went above-and-beyond, it would absolve you of who you actually were. deep down, how horrible that you had needs. that you had boundaries, that you had desires. you learned young that you cannot afford to cut people out of your life - you would have nothing left. it is better to live in the service of others, to supplicate. to worship. you weren't exceptional, you had to make up for it in some way. to prove to others you were worthy.

if they need you, it's the same thing as loving you. if you are always-there, always-listening, always-friendly, you are filling a role. you have a purpose. you are living correctly.

villain era, you repeat. you mean: yesterday you finally told a man no. for hours afterwards, you couldn't control your heartbeat. you mean: you've been saying positive affirmations on repeat, trying to teach yourself any new thing about how self care is necessary. you mean: three weeks ago, due to a scheduling conflict, you finally told a coworker that no, you couldn't do them a "quick favor". you have felt bad about that ever since. sure, it would have made you work late and it would have been extra stress - but you feel bad about it nevertheless.

you tell your therapist you have been leaning into evil. she asks what that means. when you tell her: sometimes i prioritize my own needs, she doesn't find it funny. she looks at you a long time.

"and that's evil?" she clarifies.

"well," you say. "feels evil to me."

i got possessed by an idea

GETTEM, MANFRED

Me, innocently playing Veilguard: Wow, I usually fall for non-romance-able NPCs, I'm surprised I'm starting Act 2 and not geeking out over anyone yet.

Me, upon meeting Makal Damas: Okay, well now wait a minute....

(I don't actually remember the order of operations here, I did a lot of little side quests today, but I'm fairly sure Weisshaupt was yesterday's big deal.)

My Rook is smooching Emmrich and making it everyone else's problem 💀 💋

Taash: Why are Emmrich and Rook standing facing away from each other? Harding: They had an argument. Taash: But they're still holding hands? Harding: They both get sad when they fight.

Keeping up with the Mourn Watch

A Poet's Heart

Zevlor x (f)Tav [Fluff]

Tav began digging through her rucksack on her way through the Emerald Grove. She had a meeting with Commander Zevlor soon and had rushed through her noonday meal, scarfing an apple, a hunk of bread, and a few slices of cheese and cured ham. As her hand rummaged through multiple potion bottles and gold pieces, it brushed against something flexible and smooth: paper. Baffled, she carefully removed the folded sheet and opened it, looking down at the haphazard yet elegant scrawl.

Another one, she thought to herself. Tav glanced around but saw no one watching her at this moment. Carefully, she studied the words on the page and wondered who her mysterious admirer might be. Her heart melted as she considered the possibilities: Gale and Wyll were her top two contenders, as the wizard had mentioned dabbling in poetry and the duke’s son was ever a courtly gentleman, but Tav also couldn’t discount Astarion and Shadowheart, who had also grown closer to her in the past week and could be luxurious in their words when they chose to be.

Smiling to herself, she read through the note. A poem, this time. It wasn’t always a poem, sometimes it was just a short, lovely note praising her leadership, her prowess in battle, her smile, her laugh. Tav found that she rather liked the poems though, there was something very romantic about them, the author’s emotions laid bare for her to see. 

The sun does not choose the brilliance with which it shines

Nor do my beloved’s eyes;

Her lips as sweet as berry wine

Breathe onto mine with delicate sighs

Short and sweet though it was, it made her head spin with the possibilities. It was intimate, knowing; it caressed her as she mouthed the words to herself and sent her into a daydream, imagining a scene with her unknown admirer. She sighed wistfully before remembering where she was, and stuffed the note back into her bag as she continued on her way to Zevlor’s chambers.

Tav was the last to arrive, having been too caught up in her reverie to feel any real urgency around this meeting or the goblin situation in general. She smiled an apology to the Hellrider, who acknowledged her entrance with a slight nod of his head. He moved to the side slightly as Tav approached him around the side of the desk, eager to go over the map and general goblin movements. He is a very handsome man, she thought, though she tried not to allow herself to get lost within a fantasy at this moment.

As Zevlor spoke, Tav nodded along, listening intently and adding relevant information as it became pertinent. While her group had yet to engage with the goblin leaders, they had found, followed, and dispatched several small scouting parties out in the woods and near the Emerald Grove. 

Zevlor’s taloned index finger traced routes on the weathered map, stopping to mark specific locations Tav and her party had discovered the past few days. She watched him dip his quill into the inkpot and then carefully annotate the map near the bridge that spanned the small river.

Her eyes unfocused and then narrowed in with the precision of an eagle. His handwriting. It was his handwriting, she thought, shocked. Her hand shot into her bag and gently thumbed the piece of parchment she had only recently returned to its resting place. Small tears pricked at the corner of her eyes as the realization shot through her body like a bolt of lightning. Tav’s mouth trembled briefly as she looked at Zevlor's face, bent over his desk and set with a look of focus and intent. He hadn’t yet noticed that she was unwell.

“I must take my leave,” she choked out. “Please let me know if you require anything further.” He looked up to her face as she wiped away a tear and then quickly began marching toward the stone door to the commander’s chamber. As she exited, she heard him call after her, heard his footfalls rushing towards the closing door.

“Tav!”

She stopped to the right of the door, along an empty and nondescript hallway. The door to the chamber opened once more, Zevlor rushing out and hurriedly looking left and right. He breathed a sigh of relief to see her still so near, and no longer rushing away from him.

He walked to her carefully, studying her face for any signs of extreme distress or upset. As he approached and held out a hand, Tav pulled out the parchment scrap in her bag and handed it to him, her eyes shining with tears and a deep emotion that Zevlor wasn’t sure he recognized. He knew what she held, and made no move to take it from her.

“So you know,” he whispered, his head dipped and eyes looking to her while cloaked under his infernal brows. “I knew you would find out eventually, you must, and I knew I couldn’t keep up the charade forever.” He sighed heavily and stepped closer still, while Tav watched him, mouth agape, rooted to the spot where she stood. 

“You must know, you are a very special person, Tav. Your eyes melted me when they first saw fit to gaze upon my face and warm me for the first time in years. Your smile did the very same, and even caused my own lips to curl upwards for what seemed like the first time in ages. There is life in you, a spark of joy and wonder, the likes of which I could only hope to capture by being in your mere presence.”

Zevlor gently cupped Tav’s cheek in the palm of his hand as he bent his forehead to hers and rested it gently. Tav relaxed and moved a hand to his waist, sniffling gently as she tried to keep her composure.

“I am no poet, but I feel as though I have a poet’s heart since meeting you. You are all of the beauty in this world, Tav, and I have been far away for far too long. Please, before I lose all of my nerve-”

Zevlor bent his head further and brushed his lips to hers, carefully, just barely, in askance. She moved forward a step, leaning into his frame, his armor firm beneath her body. Her lips parted delicately, her breath soft against his cheek. Tav tentatively brushed her lips back against his, savoring the heat from the Hellrider’s touch. He firmly pressed his mouth to hers, drawing her as close as he could into his arms. Tav dropped her bag on the ground and brought her hands to Zevlor’s face, cupping his jaw between her fingers and holding him close to her. 

He sighed and pulled back briefly, his burning eyes boring into hers. “I have wanted to do that since you knocked Aradin out cold,” he chuckled, brushing hair away from her face.

Tav smiled up at him, arms around his neck. “Please, do not let it be the last.”

people really just walk into horror movies and expect them not to deal with uncomfortable things despite the genre being dedicated to discomfort.

i saw so many people complain that lisa frankenstein, a movie where one of the leads is famously a rotting corpse, was too gross for them. when i walked out of nosferatu, i heard people say that the nudity was uncalled for... in a vampire film. nudity? in MY gothic horror?! unheard of!

a LOT of people really need to accept that maybe some genres just aren't to their taste, idk. not every movie needs to be cookie-cutter clean. sexuality is a staple of gothic horror, if not the wider genre horror in General. you don't need to enjoy it, but it doesn't make these things uncalled for.